With 10 countries and 29,254 miles traversed, 2017 was my most active year of travel since 2013, although interestingly my mileage count for the year seemed low given the number of flights I took (19 in total). At the end of this post you can see summaries of previous years’ adventures and how they measure up. But 29,000 or so miles is nothing to sneeze at; in some ways this last year feels like it was much longer than a year. Here’s why, and what I did in 2017:

This post was originally published in 2018. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

JANUARY: Florida, Ecuador

I started off 2017 in Florida at my (kind of) home base in Hollywood where I had spent a chunk of time in 2016. By mid-January, it was time to make a move, and that move was to the mountains outside of Cuenca Ecuador to live at Gaia Sagrada retreat centre; a place I discovered in late 2016 and to where I was returning.

FEB-MAY: Ecuador

The next four months were spent at Gaia Sagrada, where I assisted the manager in trade for a break on accommodation expenses, and informally continued my studies of ayahuasca and san pedro shamanism. It was an intense and all-encompassing position that required a lot of my energy through every two-week retreat.

So I didn’t spend much time “discovering” Ecuador, nor doing much work on my online business, which had been somewhat stagnant since I took to doing “shaman things” in Peru in late 2014.

But I did get around Ecuador a tiny bit during the five day breaks between retreats at the retreat centre. I visited Banos in the north, which is the adventure capital of Ecuador, and where I (sort of) bought a hotel for $29. I also visited Vilcabamba in the south; a popular “hippie town” with an interesting vibe that compares to my former home of Pisac Peru.

But the time soon came (inspired by an expiring Ecuadorian visa) for me to move on. By the end of May I was on a plane. Doors have been left open in Ecuador (and at Gaia Sagrada) for me to return, but to this day I’m not sure if it’s in the cards.

JUNE: Florida, (Toronto), Japan

The beauty of my (kind of) home base in Hollywood Florida at my friend’s house is that it’s a great jumping-off/landing point when traveling to/from South America. So after a couple of weeks of decompressing in Hollywood, I said sayonara to my boyfriend (with whom I’d been together since my arrival in Ecuador in 2016) who was jetting off to the west coast to earn some money while I jetted off to Tokyo (with a lightning fast layover in my hometown of Toronto ) for a house-sitting gig.

My arrival in Japan was an exercise in me proverbially coming up for air and taking stock of my online business, which had been relatively stagnant after three years of sitting on Andean mountaintops “doing shaman things”. What I saw wasn’t pretty.

JULY: Japan

Among other increased business activities such as redesigning my website and taking social media to a new level, I breathed new life into my dormant YouTube channel and started producing weekly travel vlogs. Tokyo was a perfect place to do it; it was eye candy for the camera and cocaine for the brain. Selected highlights included almost dying on Mount Takao, going to the Greatest Show in the History of Entertainment, and then having the wool pulled off my eyes in Akihabara.

I started to intellectually fall out of love with Japan after Akihabara, as I pontificated in my post Why I Could Never Life in Japan. But after almost two months in total in Japan, I managed to pull it all together with this (slightly more balanced) post.

AUGUST: Japan, Indonesia

I realized that in over 10 years of wandering the world, I almost never went somewhere without having my accommodation sorted out (and usually free accommodation at that). Bali was the first time I’d gone somewhere without having any innate connections, specific opportunities, or accommodation lined up.

But I went anyway, and it was fantastic. I hung with the monkeys, negotiated like a pro in the markets, hiked through rice terraces, and learned about the beautiful ceremonial practices of Balinese Hinduism. Oh yeah – and I visited Kuta to see a Balinese healer, which was a total comedy of errors (but the kind that made for a really funny post).

SEPTEMBER: Hong Kong, Macau, Indonesia

Coinciding with the expiration of my 30-day Indonesian visa was an opportunity to go to Macau to speak at a travel conference.

I stayed in Hong Kong for a week (and loved it – most of it), before taking a ferry over to Macau for the conference. The connections I made there paved the way for some opportunities for an upcoming trip to India that I’d booked after finding a mistake air fare.

After my quick sojourn in Hong Kong and Macau, I returned to Bali for what was supposed to be another month. Instead, the active volcano Mount Agung went into high alert, and although I was technically safe in Ubud, reports I’d heard from Ubud’s survivors of Mount Agung’s last eruption in 1963 didn’t make me want to stick around to find out, so I voluntarily evacuated. Turns out I evacuated a couple of months earlier than necessary, but the volcano did indeed start spewing ash which shut down the airport a few times.

I really enjoyed Bali on the whole, and am certainly curious to return….another time.

OCTOBER: Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India

Part of the reason evacuating from Bali was easy for me was because I had friends of friends (of friends) in Jakarta who were kind enough to open up their homes to me. I had no intention of writing about my three weeks in Jakarta which were pretty sedentary, but a few things happened that I found so amusing I simply had to share.

Then it was off to India (via a night in Sri Lanka). India was another destination that I chose without having much of anything organized save for a cheap flight. But after sending off a few emails and making some connections in Macau, my trip started to take shape. It began in Jaipur where I reunited with an old friend and landed in the lap of luxury, which continued on the Deccan Odyssey: the most luxurious train in the world.

NOVEMBER: India, Thailand

Even in the lap of luxury, everything started to go wrong for me, and my month in India (much of which was spent in Rishikesh) became a critical and pinnacle experience for what I suspect is going to be a big transition/transformation (still in progress). I’ll be pontificating more on this idea in 2018, as this is something that is unfurling by the day.

So it was with no small degree of enthusiasm that I left India in mid-late November on a plane bound for Chiang Mai Thailand, where I reunited with my boyfriend after six months apart. We found a sweet little condo to nest in for a wee while.

DECEMBER: Thailand

I’ll be writing a bit more about Chiang Mai in the coming weeks; but I also don’t have very much to write about Chiang Mai on the whole, since I did almost nothing noteworthy (from a travel blogger’s perspective). Instead I enjoyed all the creature comforts of this surprisingly bohemian city, ate amazing food, went to the gym, spent time with my boyfriend, and tended to some increasingly consuming issues of health and wellness (both physical and emotional).

It was an agonizing kind of bliss that capped off 2017 in the strangest of ways.

Summary Notes

For a year that started off in South America with a focus on plant medicine work, I didn’t expect to visit 10 countries; including seven Asian countries – all of which were new to me except for Thailand. Then again, it was a year full of unexpected surprises and new experiences. The easiest way to explain my current state of being is to say that it’s like every single aspect of my life has been thrown up in the air (lifestyle, location, health, relationships, career, etc), and I’m watching all the pieces float around and am waiting to see where they land. It’s simultaneously exciting and agonizing. 2018 is going to be a very interesting year. Stick around….I’m pretty sure it won’t be boring.

10 countries and 29,254 miles…..2017 is another one to go down in my own little history book.

Previous Annual Summaries

My First Four Years of Full-Time Travel (2007-2010, including Canada, Hawaii, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, USA, Mexico, New Zealand, Spain, Germany, France, England, Scotland, Ireland, Nepal)

What I did in 2011 (13 countries, 73,000 kms, including New Zealand, Canada, USA, Sweden, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Ukraine, Russia, China, Vietnam, Grenada)

What I did in 2012 (8 countries and 20,000 miles, including Grenada, St. Martin, BVIs, USA, Switzerland, France, England, Canada)

What I did in 2013 (12 countries and 29,000 miles, including Grenada, USA, Canada, England, Scotland, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Ukraine, France, Panama)

What I did in 2014 (7 countries and 34,000 miles, including Panama, USA, Canada, Peru, Spain, Gibraltar, Italy)

What I did in 2015 (6 countries and 35,000 miles, including Peru, Colombia, USA, Costa Rica, Canada, Bolivia)

What I did in 2016 (5 countries and 30,000 miles, including Peru, USA, Canada, Ireland, and Ecuador)

This post 10 Countries and 29,254 Miles: This was 2017! appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Now I know why.

This post was originally written in 2017, and has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

Hong Kong: The Good

There are plenty of things to like about Hong Kong, like the cheap and efficient transportation system, well-priced high-quality food, rampant shopping opportunities, and a neon vibe. Here are some of the many reasons why Hong Kong struck a chord in me, and why I’m grateful to have had the chance to pass through for a week (enroute to a speaking gig in Macau).

The Food.

Having grown up with a love of Asian food in general, Hong Kong was my foodie heaven. Obviously Chinese dishes like BBQ meats and dim sum were ubiquitous, but so too were other Asian cuisines such as Japanese, Vietnamese, Malaysian, and Thai. Dim sum and sushi being two of my absolute favourite foods, I ate one (or both) at least once per day.

And, I’m delighted to report that eating out in Hong Kong doesn’t have to be expensive (more about the cost of living in Hong Kong below). In fact, because accommodation in Hong Kong is so restrictive (more on that later as well), eating out is actually a necessity for some. Which means, if you know where to eat, you can get a proper meal for $30-50 Hong Kong Dollars ($4-6USD).

Food, Part 2: Inexpensive Michelin Star Rated Food.

I ticked off a few Michelin-rated snack shops on this list, including Kai Kai Desserts (I loved the sweet ginger soup with rice balls ($2.50US) so much that I returned…twice), Mammy Pancake (which also received an encore visit), and I gawked in the window of Owl’s Choux and Gelato but decided it wasn’t “Asian enough” to justify the addition to my waistline and reduction of my wallet.

The Contrast of Old and New.

Next to a shiny new skyscraper sits an old dilapidated apartment building. Sitting underneath towering buildings is an ancient looking temple. The contrast of old and new is rampant in Hong Kong; although apparently some places that look old (like the dilapidated buildings) aren’t particularly ancient; Hong Kong’s characteristic humidity does a great job of wearing and tearing.

Some Pretty Cool (and Funny) Feng Shui.

One of the more informative and enjoyable activities I did in Hong Kong was to take a free walking tour offered by a colleague and friend of mine: Virginia of Humid With a Chance of Fishballs (yep – not a typo). During the tour, she shared various interesting pieces of trivia, but the following story was my favourite:

Feng Shui is a very important concept in Hong Kong (and to a larger extent, China); so important that whenever a building is being designed, a Feng Shui consultant must analyze the architect’s plans.

The picture you see above is of two of Hong Kong’s big banks: HSBC (on the right), and Bank of China (on the left). Virginia went into great detail about how the HSBC building met the feng shui consultant’s requirements; the symmetry, the arrows pointing up, the use of space, etc was all perfect. The consultant actually said that building was a bit too symmetrical and perfect, which inspired the giant atrium at the bottom, with two off-centre escalators taking visitors up to the lobby – a gorgeous piece of design work unto itself.

Then we turned our attention to the Bank of China (which houses the stock exchange), which you might surmise is very feng shui’d up, given how pretty and shiny it is. It isn’t. The designer (the same fella who designed the Louvre in Paris) refused to use a feng shui consultant, and as a result all kinds of things are wrong with the place. This is serious stuff; apparently the very same week this building opened, the stock market crashed.

It gets better. The HSBC building is not only next to the Bank of China, but it’s sandwiched between competitors with the Standard Bank on the other side. So HSBC’s final stroke of brilliance, in the face of being surrounded by competitors (with some bad feng shui juju no less)….was to build some maintenance cranes on top of the building. But these maintenance cranes don’t look like any such cranes anywhere else. They look like cannons. Two sets of cannons, pointing directly at the buildings on either side.

I found this story absolutely hilarious. I mean – can you imagine! What a fabulous sense of humour – a big serious bank constructing cannons pointing at neighbouring competitors! What’s even more funny to me, is that it was probably done 100% stoically and seriously, in the name of feng shui.

OMG The Nature!

Unfortunately – and anybody who knows Hong Kong will agree this is a great travesty – the picture above is as close as I got to Hong Kong’s nature. (This is Kowloon park; a giant park – aviary and flamingos and everything – built atop a shopping centre). Although this park is pretty, it doesn’t even come close to the sort of nature that exists in Hong Kong.

Most people wouldn’t think of Hong Kong as a hiking destination. I didn’t; instead of hiking boots, I packed city slickers and hit the concrete jungles. Big mistake.

Of Hong Kong’s 1,100 square kilometres, 75% of it is countryside, much of it completely undeveloped. 40% of Hong Kong is designated park/nature reserve. A 10-minute taxi ride from just about anywhere in the city will take you to some sort of hiking trail. When a friend found out through Facebook that I was in Hong Kong, he sent me a note with pictures and recommendations from his own hiking experiences that made me immediately regret not doing more research before my trip. He summed it up perfectly by saying Hong Kong is “a megalopolis dropped incongruously into a spectacular national park”.

Hong Kong: The Bad

Although I loved Hong Kong way more than I expected to, it wasn’t perfect (by far). Here are some of my beefs with the place:

The Accommodation.

Given that 75% of Hong Kong is countryside, that leaves a ridiculously small amount of space to fit 7.5 million people. Thus, it’s a vertical city. Everything is built up into the sky, and down into the ground. And the amount of space allotted to each person is laughably small.

I knew beforehand that my room would be tiny, but it was still a shock to open the door to this small windowless room (don’t be fooled by the curtain); the window was something of a sham. I booked my room at the HK Peace Guest House after receiving a personal recommendation and reading some stellar reviews. And indeed it lived up to the description; the location was terrific, it was clean, and the owner/manager takes very good care of the place and guests.

But it wasn’t exactly a place that inspired a “homey” feeling. Nor was it cheap.

Accommodation, Part 2: Adjusting my Idea of a “Nice Area”.

Another matter entirely was the building my accommodation was located in; another shocker. In many other places in the world, it would be considered a slum. In the Tsim Sha Tsui area of Hong Kong, the Mirador Mansion is a good step above many of its neighbours.

This, in an email from a friend of mine about his own Hong Kong experience 30 years ago, staying in the neighbouring Chungking Mansion (a renowned hellhole):

…I had dreams about it for years afterward… Now, I can’t be sure if some things actually happened or not… but, I DO know there were plenty of lowlifes, junkies, dealers, mobsters and perverts there…

Chungking – and Tsim Sha Tsui in general – has cleaned up significantly since my friend visited a few decades ago. Although I’m sure a seedy underbelly still exists, it’s not immediately evident. Instead, the lowlifes, junkies, dealers, and mobsters have been replaced by Sri Lankan tailors. I lost count of how many times I was approached (dozens? Hundreds?) by Sri Lankans (who were specifically targeting white people, interestingly enough) offering custom tailor services. And I had to fight my way past many them just to get to the elevators in my building. Although it might sound like I’m complaining, I’m not (particularly); to me it merely added to the flavour of the place.

It’s worth noting that most expats live on and visit the “Central” island of Hong Kong, south of Tsim Sha Tsui. It’s much more modern and spiffy, as it’s also the financial and business district of Hong Kong. Tsim Sha Tsui is a bit more “old school”, and tends to appeal to a different kind of tourist. Like, the kind who can’t bear to pay more than $50/night for accommodation. (Having said that, don’t be fooled; Tsim Sha Tsui has more than its share of $150+/night places to stay).

The Confusing Cost of Living.

Perhaps I was disappointed by my room because of the amount of money I was paying for it. I mean, I knew it would be small and in a building of questionable condition, but for $50/night, I expected more.

I was wrong. Depending on the measuring stick you use, Hong Kong consistently hits the top three of all the lists of most expensive cities in the world. I found this a tad confusing however, given that some things in Hong Kong are still quite cheap, like transportation and (some) food and (some) shopping. In fact, the Tsim Sha Tsui neighbourhood is renowned for the Chinese tourists who visit in droves with big empty rolling suitcases, just to buy stuff.

But in digging a bit deeper, I discovered that Hong Kong is a very difficult place for the average person to get by; largely due to the cost of accommodation. A local Hong Kongese friend told me that as a young person starting out in their career, it’s almost impossible to survive. The average salary for somebody in marketing is $10k/month (less than $1,300USD), which wouldn’t even cover rent if you live alone. Thus, many young people continue to live with their parents, or share (undersized) places with multiple roommates. Their parents’ generation didn’t suffer the same problems; in their day salaries were commensurate, and they could afford to buy a place.

The Crowds.

Given my general dislike for cities, it stood to reason that by the end of my week in Hong Kong, I was ready to leave, much as I liked the place.

This wasn’t helped by the densely populated neighbourhood where I was staying. I was surprised when a Hong Kongese friend expressed her distaste for “mainlanders” from China (an apparently common sentiment in Hong Kong); she said they’re generally disruptive and disrespectful. She alluded to Chinese tourists always rolling their shopping-filled suitcases over her foot as a random example. Although I don’t care to jump into this little feud, by the end of the week, I must say I was pretty sick of doing the sidewalk dance with so many people (and suitcases).

Let’s End This on a Good Note.

Every place is good and bad. Up and down. Bright and dark. Hong Kong is no exception. My mission whenever I visit a place is to get an understanding of both. Ta-dah! Mission accomplished. Some of the things that bothered me wouldn’t bother other people, and vice versa.

Despite my beefs with the place, I will reiterate that Hong Kong surprised me by how much I liked it. I would return in a heartbeat. Next time though, I’ll bring my hiking shoes. And ideally I’ll have some sort of free accommodation. (Stranger things have happened).

Things to do in Hong Kong

While Hong Kong is a very user-friendly city, I adored doing the walking tour, as I really appreciated this cultural insight I’d never otherwise have received. Click below to check out some interesting an cost-effective things to do in Hong Kong:

Related Posts

Hong Kong Mashup (Vlog)

This post Hong Kong: The Good and The Bad. appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

The reason for my trip?

Macau. (Which is kind of a different country…sort of….in the same way Hong Kong is a different country from China….sort of).

The short version of my reason for being in Hong Kong was that I spoke at a travel industry conference in Macau, which is a short ferry ride away. With an expiring Indonesian visa and a cheap direct flight, it was a prime opportunity to check out this place I’d never visited but heard amazing things about.

And now…I get it. I get why everybody I know who has visited Hong Kong loves it. I don’t particularly like cities (and I’m not a huge fan of China)….and I still thought it was pretty damn cool.

This post was originally published in 2017, and has since been updated for accuracy of links and content.

I’ll be pontificating more about my experience of and thoughts on Hong Kong in another article (this one).

Suffice it to say I had a pretty amazing week….despite the horrendous cost (and state) of accommodation.

• I ate ridiculous amounts of dim sum.
• I walked and walked (and walked).
• I gawked and gawked (and gawked).
• I marvelled at the juxtaposition of old and new.
• I ate some more.
• I drank tea.
• And then I ate a little more.

The only thing I didn’t do (I expect everybody who loves Hong Kong will take a collective gasp at this), is hike, or otherwise visit nature. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the place, a mere 25% of it is developed – the rest is countryside; 40% of Hong Kong is made up of official parks and nature reserves. Little did I know, otherwise I’d have brought my hiking shoes.

Instead, I brought my city slickers, and considering I only had a week, I made a pretty good show of checking out the city.

Hong Kong Mashup, Vlog Ep. 23

Check out my week in Hong Kong mashup below….a mashup of footage taken whilst gawking at the city, marvelling at the temples, checking out the markets, and of course, eating the food.

Click here to watch the video on YouTube

This post Hong Kong Mashup (VLOG Ep. 23) appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

You may not end up in Guinness for it, but you’re sure to have a memorable experience.

Links to posts about each of these experience – as well as videos! – are included. Enjoy!  

World’s Most Dangerous Beach

We don’t normally think of beaches as being dangerous, but Sunset Beach in St Martin in the Caribbean will set your heart aflutter. It’s directly at the end of the island’s airport strip, and you can watch planes come in on top of you. Thrill seekers like to hold on to the fence at the end of the runway and be mangled by the prop blast as jets land mere meters away. (I settled for taking pictures from a mildly respectful distance).

The Most Dangerous Beach in the World

World’s Highest (Commercial) Skydive

As a skydiver with almost 300 jumps (from a life that seems lifetimes away now), I dropped my license when I started traveling full-time. But when I was in New Zealand, I was treated to a tandem jump that allowed me to experience the world’s highest commercial skydive, exiting the plane at 15,000 feet.

World’s Highest (Commercial) Fixed Line Abseil (Rappel)

This was an absolute highlight of all my travels. In Waitomo New Zealand, this full day event involved a 100 meter abseil (rappel) into a cave, followed by five hours of venturing through this extensive watery cave system. In our wetsuits, we squeezed, swam, jumped, and shimmied through this cave, and hung out with Waitomo’s famous glow worms (which have their own funny story).

Abseiling, Caving, and Spotting Glow Worms in New Zealand

World’s Highest (Commercially) Rafted Waterfall

New Zealand is home to all kinds of world’s [whatevers], and I experienced a lot of them whilst filming a tv show there in 2010. Even after a day of sledging (which is like white-water rafting on a glorified boogie board), I was shaking in my wetsuit in anticipation of the 7 meter (23 foot) drop that flips a good percentage of rafts. Ironically we survived the drop, and then almost sank the raft whilst caught in a rapid that is apparently more dangerous than the waterfall itself.

World’s Longest Train Ride

When I did the Ultimate Train Challenge in 2011 (30 days from Lisbon to Saigon, all by train), it included a solid week on the Trans-Manchurian between Moscow and Beijing. It’s better known as the Trans-Siberian, the difference being the particular route the train takes. Either way, it’s long.

A Week on the Trans-Manchurian Railway

World’s Fastest Train

Hot on the heels of the world’s longest train ride, I embarked on the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. Watching the world whizz by at speeds close to what planes manage was an experience. And with stations on either side that were more like airports than train stations, at times I had to wonder if I was actually flying.

13 Random Experiences on Asian Trains

World’s Longest Wall/Biggest Ancient Architecture

You got it – this is the Great Wall of China. I’ve had the good fortune to have been there not once – but twice.

Beijing – Then and Now

World’s Shortest Ferry Ride

If you fly into Toronto’s Island Airport (officially known as Toronto City Centre Airport), a ferry will deliver you to the “mainland” downtown core of Toronto. It’s a whopping 120 meters (400 feet), and the ferry itself is about a third of the size of passage it runs.

World’s Most Isolated Major City

There are a few contenders for the world’s most isolated/remote major cities (depending on your criteria such as by population size or accessibility), including Auckland New Zealand, Honolulu Hawaii, and Iquitos Peru. Regardless of the measuring stick you use, I can say I’ve been to all of them.

But Perth Australia is most eager to wear this banner, and it’s an isolated city indeed. Bonus: it also boasts the largest inner city park in the world.

Perth in 24 Hours

World’s Most Dangerous Airport

When I was filming a television show in Nepal in 2010, we flew from Kathmandu to Lukla, which is the gateway to Everest and the Himalayas for trekkers. Tenzing Hilary Airport earns its moniker as the world’s most dangerous airport due to the short runway with absolutely no margin for error. The runway is on an incline so planes coming in can stop before hitting the mountain behind it, and so planes taking off can gather sufficient speed before the runway drops off into a valley of nothingness.

The other danger factor at this airport is the weather, which comes in out of nowhere. It took us two days of waiting at Kathmandu airport for enough clear sky to allow us to fly in, and we were stuck there for three days longer than scheduled waiting for the clouds to clear so we could take off. The only other way out would have been to hike for 2 days to the nearest city where we could catch ground transportation back to Kathmandu.

World’s Most Expensive City

Oslo Norway takes this prize, and spectacularly so. I went to a middle-of-the-road thai restaurant for lunch and paid almost $50 for a green curry and a glass of wine. This was pretty average for my meals in Oslo. Now, if you live in Oslo and earn money in the local currency, you can get by pretty well. But with Norway’s strong currency, visiting there with foreign currency in your pocket will result in your pockets being empty pretty quickly.

Travel Lessons and Surprises: Oslo

World’s Top City for Cyclists AND World’s Happiest City

Again there are a few contenders for this title (not the least of which is Amsterdam), but the prize – for both bike friendly city and happiest city – goes to Copenhagen Denmark. I don’t know that bicycling and happiness are related, but there you go.

Copenhagen: A Modern-Day Fairy Tale

Largest Beer-Producing Area in the World

If you think Germany takes this cake, think again. When I was in Boulder Colorado, I learned that it’s part of the largest beer-producing triangle in the world, with micro-breweries at every turn. Boulder tops a bunch of other lists (in America) mostly in the realm of being active, bike-friendly, dog-friendly, rich, and skinny. Guess you have to burn off the beer somehow, and with the Rocky Mountains at your doorstep it’s not too difficult.

A Curious Bubble in Boulder, Colorado

World’s Largest Techno Party

The annual Street Parade in Zurich Switzerland is actually officially billed as a political demonstration (dating back to its humble beginnings in 1992 as a demonstration for peace, love, and tolerance. Back then there were 1,000 attendees; now it sees about a million attendees, hitting the streets to party, show off their costumes, and get their groove on.

The World’s Largest Techno Party: Street Parade in Zurich

World’s Highest Bungee Jump

The world’s highest bungee jump is currently the Macau Tower at 233 metres. However in 2005 when I was in the Western Cape of South Africa, I took a leap (a few, actually) off Bloukrans Bridge which was at the time the world’s highest bungee jump at 216 metres. So considering this is a list of my own world [whatevers], I think it still counts. So there. Bite me, Macau.

World’s Highest Navigable Lake

Lake Titicaca (bordered by Bolivia and Peru) is the largest lake in South America, and the highest navigable lake in the world. I spent a few days on Isla del Sol, and even though I live at an incredibly high altitude in Peru, I marvelled at just how close to the sun this island really was.

Visiting Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca, in Bolivia

World’s Longest Standing Protest

Since 1972, a small fire has been burning in front of Australia’s parliament building. Along with the small collection of derelict looking tents off to the side housing anywhere from a few to a few hundred Australian Aboriginals who tend to the fire, this is the world’s longest standing protest. Stumbling on to this with a friend while walking around Canberra one afternoon led to one of the most enlightening days I’ve had in all my travels.

The Australian Aboriginal Tent Embassy

World’s Worst Smelling Food

This prize goes to Surstromming, a canned fermented fish that is popular in Sweden. It’s a love-it-or-hate-it kind of food, that actually doesn’t taste nearly as repulsive as it smells. (There. I’m sure you want to try it now, don’t you)?

Northern Swedish Delicacies, Including Surstromming

Do you have any World’s fastest, highest, longest, smallest, deepest, craziest WHATEVERs in your travel repertoire?

This post 18 of the World’s Fastest, Highest, Longest (etc) Things to Do appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

We blew through Beijing, gazed at Guilin, said Hello to Hanoi, and eventually settled in Saigon.

Some of the more interesting (and random) rail experiences happened on this last part of the Ultimate Train Challenge, and my favourite train ride for scenery and photographic friendliness (due in part to windows that opened) was the last two-night ride from Hanoi to Saigon.

Please enjoy the third and final part to my video trilogy of the Ultimate Train Challenge finale adventures of The Professional Hobo. You’ll see from some of the shots and footage in the last half of the video why I liked the final train ride – and ultimately, Vietnam – so much.

Enjoy!

Click here to watch this final Ultimate Train Challenge video on YouTube.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

This post The Ultimate Train Challenge Finale: China, Vietnam [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Spending a week solid on a train from Moscow to Beijing, in small quarters with no showers and two people I’d only just met for a day a couple of weeks prior was no small task.

The good news is that we’re all still friends, and actually, I consider myself very lucky to have shared such an epic experience as the Ultimate Train Challenge with two other dedicated nomadic travelers and bloggers.

Please enjoy this video diary of my week on the Trans-Manchurian train through Russia and China. It’s a good thing “smell-o-vision” isn’t a big hit, and you’ll see me wearing the same outfit up to three days in a row. But rest assured the continuity is genuine; you’ll detect signs of wear-and-tear throughout the week, including increasingly flatter hair and growing bags under my eyes.

But don’t worry – you don’t have to look at my sorry face the whole time; I’ve crammed the video with clips and pictures of the amazing changing scenery along the way, as well as some of our food stops and “beer chats” with new friends, a few time-lapse clips, and some tense moments at the Russian/Chinese border.

Enjoy!

Feel free to click here to watch the video on YouTube.

This post The Ultimate Trans-Manchurian [Video] appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Three of our six nights between Beijing and Saigon are spent on trains, so I have lots of time to experience Asian travel culture, make friends, and bide my time while watching the world go by.

Here are some of my random experiences:

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

Beijing to Shanghai

This journey is traditionally an 11-hour ride, and has been cut down to just over five hours with the new flashy bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai – reputedly the world’s fastest train. It is an incredibly comfortable and easy ride, buffeted on either side by shiny new expansive train stations.

Random Experience #1: McDonalds “Delicacies”

Even the McDonalds at the Beijing train station is fancy, featuring a “tea restaurant of table delicacies” (pictured here) – whatever that means.

Random Experience #2: Hand-Holding

While waiting for the train, two small adorable Chinese women in some sort of uniform come trotting (literally trotting) by me, holding hands. It’s not until they’ve passed that I can see the bold writing across the backs of their cute little uniforms: SECURITY. Where I come from, security personnel are usually intimidating. This is just endearing.

Random Experience #3: Tongue-Twisting

I am seated at the front of my train car, so I simply hold my camera up at arms length facing backwards to get a shot of the car, with no idea what the picture will look like. The guy sitting just behind me gives me this gem of a shot:

Shanghai to Guilin

In an effort to save a few bucks, we opt for the 3^rd class “hard sleeper” train on the 22-hour trip from Shanghai to Guilin (which is all part of a larger 33-hour journey originating from Beijing). Although we initially regret this decision when faced with a crowded, loud, open car with three tight layers of bunk beds, it doesn’t take long to get into the fun and enjoy some of the most random of Asian train experiences.

Random Experience #4: Random Photo

Just outside of Shanghai, I take an accidental random photo with my camera, which is randomly pointed at the window. What are the chances that I catch a ferris wheel. I mean, really.

Random Experience #5: Train Food

Although vendors regularly pass through the train car selling fruit, packaged food, and prepared food, I notice most passengers bring their own food on-board; which includes a lot of instant noodles and vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu. (Yes, vacuum-packed snack-foods like chicken feet and tofu).

Random Experience #6: Passenger Food

A middle-aged woman takes over the communal seating/table area at the end of the bunks and delicately airs a pile of mystery food in the space under the counter.

The following morning, this mystery food selection has darkened, shrivelled, and interestingly – multiplied, and she is now carefully continuing to dry out this food using the light of day. She periodically attends to the little brown packets of something, squeezing them, smelling, them, and turning them over. When she smells them I study her to see if I can get a sense for its deliciousness (thinking maybe I can tell from her expression if it’s sweet or savoury), but she gives me no clue with her stoic face.

Random Experience #7: Mystery Packages

This same woman has also commandeered the entire table between bunks for 11 wrapped boxes of something. At first I think they are box lunches, and as she shuttles more and more over to the table, I wonder if she has treated our whole section to a meal. I restrain myself from digging into one of these “lunches” which turns out to be a good thing, as I later learn from a Mary Kay girl (how’s that for random-ness? keep reading) they are “moon cakes” that are likely gifts for family and friends.

Random Experience #8: Music and Talk Radio for One and All

As I start to become annoyed at the passenger somewhere above me who is listening to the radio full-blast, I realize with some degree of horror that it’s being piped through the whole train. This deafening combination of talk radio and Chinese muzak will play for an hour, then stop for a few hours, then play for another half hour, then stop for 20 minutes, and so on. Most people seem to tune it out, despite the ear-shattering decibels.

Random Experience #9: It’s a Mary Kay Conference

As I sit on my lower bunk working on my laptop, the lady on the top bunk (with a kind face, who initially helped me locate my bunk from my cryptic train ticket) climbs down and sits cross-legged next to me, looking expectantly at my laptop, then me, then smiling. I’m not sure what she’s after, so I show her pictures of my recent adventures on The Great Wall, I play the Ultimate Train Challenge Trailer, and explain with pictures, sign language, maps, and numbers on the computer what the Ultimate Train Challenge is all about. I think she gets it, since she seems genuinely surprised and confused by my mission to travel from Lisbon to Saigon (25,000kms) by train in 30 days.

Now it’s her turn: I learn she’s a Mary Kay consultant returning home from a Mary Kay conference near Shanghai. She shows me pictures on her camera of the conference, her home, her husband and two year-old son, and her mother and father. I am quickly introduced to the rest of her gaggle of Mary Kay friends. I obediently pose for pictures with each of them and many combinations thereof.

Although we don’t share a common language (albeit she knows more English than I know of Chinese), we are best friends for the rest of the train ride; she teaches me about moon cakes, shares a pomegranate with me, we establish our ages and birthdays, my last visit to China in 1993, and we muse over a Chinese handbook with select phrases and pictures.

However our language barrier proves its limitations when I ask what the mystery food (that’s displayed and drying at the foot of our beds) is. It seems this mystery food will forever remain just that: a mystery.

Random Experience #10: Toothbrush Etiquette

A train attendant sets up shop in the middle of the car (which happens to be at the foot of my bed) around 10am. In her loudest voice she launches into a sales pitch for toothbrushes. This lasts about 10 minutes, as she extols the virtues of the brush itself with a full demonstration of its many features, along with a quick lesson on brushing techniques. I never realized a toothbrush could be deserving of such intricate descriptions. She must have done a good job, because she is swarmed by curious customers at the end of her lecture and she sells quite a few.

(Note: I also see this display on another train between Guilin and Nanning, as well as a very compelling sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels. Then again, what sales pitch and absorption demonstration for chamois towels isn’t compelling?).

Random Experience #11: Deputy Train Conductor

In the train washroom, I discover a female attendant’s hat hanging on the hook, obviously left behind by one of the conductors. I take the opportunity to stage a little photo shoot in the washroom, which also serves as a scavenger hunt score for the Ultimate Train Challenge competition.

Hanoi to Saigon

Although I dread the last train from Hanoi to Saigon (as part of a larger longer 4 day/3 night race for the finish), this 35 hour train ride actually ends up being one of my favourite train rides. The scenery is great, there’s power in our cabin (glory hallelujah), and the piece de resistance: the windows open for us to capture some great shots along the way.

Random Experience #12: Epic Instant Noodles, Station Stops

At a station stop, I pick up some instant noodles for lack of there being any food vendors with cooked food. It’s not until I dig into said noodles that I see just how cool my package of noodles is. Check out this guy!

Random Experience #13: Photographic Expose

With the window open and the humid Vietnamese air breezing through the train, I have a blast shooting reams of photos and video of the landscape between Hanoi and Saigon. Here are two random shots I get that I’m particularly proud of:

Thank you China Odyssey Tours for providing our tickets for the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. During the Ultimate Train Challenge, we managed to conquer the world’s longest train ride (the Trans-Manchurian), followed immediately by the world’s fastest. Now that’s poetry. 

This post 13 Random Experiences on Asian Trains appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

So it is a blessing that these are the two places I get to revisit (or rather, breeze through) on my return to China as part of the Ultimate Train Challenge.

We’re all very grateful for the two whole nights we get to sleep in stationary beds at How Hostel – I realize with slight horror that the last time I stayed this long anywhere was in Zurich, which feels like lifetimes ago.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

River City

With two rivers meeting near the centre, Guilin is a very water-centric city. And if you can hack it, the best time of day to experience Guilin’s river culture is early in the morning; the earlier the better.

My first morning in Guilin I witness this phenomenon around 8am. An elderly woman (she must be in her 60s or 70s) has her leg propped up on a bridge and is stretching her hamstrings as part of her morning exercises. She is so flexible, she’s actually overextended the splits – and she makes it look like nothing (can everybody in Guilin do the splits? I wonder).

Further down, a group of ballroom dancers are waltzing in the user-friendly park space that lines the riverside.

Next group another 100 metres away is a tai chi session with about 10 people practicing.

Then, a group of costumed women with drums, apparently rehearsing for a performance.

Following, some sort of meditative dancers with flags.

There are periodic public exercise “playgrounds”, but instead of slides and monkey bars for children, the playground-esque equipment is comprised of stationery bicycles, rowers, and cross-country ski contraptions commonly seen in home gyms.

Between all these groups practicing different modalities of exercise and meditation are dozens (hundreds?) of pilgrims; power-walkers to wanderers, many exaggeratedly swinging their arms or hitting their shoulders or other pressure points in what I surmise is an eastern practice for total body health maintenance.

And amazingly despite the murky colour of the water, there are even people – many people – swimming in the river (either doing “laps” across and back, or swimming along the length of the river) alongside motorboats and bamboo rafts.

The following morning I’m out before the sun has even fully risen, admittedly not so much for exercise as a quest to enjoy one last bowl of Guilin’s famous rice noodles for breakfast before catching a 7:30am train.

But walking through the park enroute to breakfast is a magical experience. The entourage of scooter/motorcycle traffic hasn’t begun for the day, which creates a subdued – almost muted – ambience. Quite a few people are out to enjoy the early morning peace along with me; a dozen people practicing tai chi, two women out for a morning stroll, and lots of individual arm-swinging pressure-point-pounding power walkers and tai chi gurus.

The water surrounding us, with Guilin’s famous and unique mountain landscape as a backdrop is a perfect setting for these early morning meditations. What a way to start the day.

Guilin River Tours

With such a water-centric culture, it stands to reason that one of the biggest tourist attractions for Guilin are the river cruises along the Li River.

This is one of the experiences I most fondly recall of my visit to China in 1993. Cruising along the quiet Li River with its clear water and stunning scenery was a peaceful afternoon that left me feeling like I’d “discovered” an untouched and very special part of China.

Imagine my surprise 18 years later when I realize the rest of the world has caught on to cruising this “untouched” and special part of China..

This time around, it’s very much “touched”.

Our Guilin guide Sherry (of China Odyssey Tours) leads us through the fray to our boat, which heads out to cruise along this 83km stretch of the Li River in an assembly line fashion. Every picture along the length of the twisting river in either direction includes at least three identical river boats.

18 years ago, I remember a man on a bamboo raft pulling up and tethering to the boat. He had a basket of fruit and offered his wares for sale to the passengers. I found this unique, charming, ingenious, and fascinating.

Today, the man on the bamboo raft is still there (along with dozens of other bamboo rafts). But in addition to selling fruit, he also sells pop, and even souvenirs of little men on bamboo rafts selling stuff to passengers on river cruise ships. I kid you not.

Initially my stomach turns at the exploitative nature of this river cruise and how “touristy” it has become. I long for the feeling of being “off the beaten path” that I had before, oh so many years ago.

But as the hours pass and as I aim my camera out at the (still stunning) mountain scenery instead of the other tourists and boats, I realize the views are still the same. The unique mountains with imaginative names and tales of folklore are still there, and just as majestic as before.

There’s a reason so many people have caught on to the river cruises of Guilin. It’s an amazing experience. And there’s no reason why I should be the only person to know it.

Touring the Countryside

“So do you like bicycles?” Sherry asks us. Jeannie and I eye each other, having seen the bicycle tour listed on our itinerary and feeling nervous about our respective injuries that prevent us from riding very well.

“Um, they’re okay…” we reply, not sure how to navigate the second part of our tour planned for the day.

“How long do you think you can ride?”

I’m grateful for this question, since I’m not averse to riding, but have no ability to do it for more than very short distances. “No more than half an hour,” I reply.

Sherry’s eyes widen and I detect a note of panic. “Really? That’s all?”

I go on to describe my chronic hip injury, and Jeannie nods, chiming in with her bum knee.

Sherry takes this information in stride and immediately adjusts our plans for the day by instead taking us on a ride in an open-air golf cart through the countryside. We appreciate the customizable nature of the tours we’ve received throughout China with China Odyssey Tours, and the ease with which we’ve been able to travel through China in our almost-delusional state of travel-exhaustion.

Ever Onwards

Sadly, that’s it for our time in China. Our itinerary presses us ever onwards towards Saigon. Traveling about 25,000kms in 30 days by train requires constant movement; movement that now has us feeling dizzy, confusing events and locations, and largely unaware of what day it is or even what time it is.

But the end is now in sight; we have six hours by train to Nanning (where we get a chance to walk around for a few hours), followed by 12 hours to Hanoi (which sadly entails getting off the train twice in the middle of the night for border formalities). After a day in Hanoi, our final train (36 hours) delivers us to our ultimate destination of Saigon. Despite the fact that this last portion of schedule actually equates to half of the epic Trans-Manchurian train, at this stage it feels like a drop in the bucket; we can do this in our sleep. And in fact we will – three nights’ sleep.

Check out this video of my Guilin experience, from peaceful tai-chi filled mornings to the chaotic (yet beautiful) river tour!

Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

Thanks to HostelBookers for arranging our Guilin accommodation at How Hostel, and to China Odyssey Tours for arranging all our tours and transfers throughout China.

This post Guilin: River Culture and New Tourism appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Aah….China.

I was last here in July of 1993 – 18 years ago – at the tender age of 16, when I toured the country with a ballet. It was my first overseas trip, and an instrumental experience in fostering my love of travel, which eventually led to my adopting a life of full-time travel as The Professional Hobo.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

On Arrival

“Andy” – our tour guide from China Odyssey Tours (whose Chinese name obviously isn’t Andy) – meets us at the station at 5:30am when we arrive, feeling a little worse-for-wear given our last week on board a train (not to mention the two weeks prior of careening through Europe). We’re eager for showers, stationary beds, and a decent meal.

But Andy has other designs for our day. Given his expertise, he has two strong recommendations; One: that we head straight for the Great Wall of China to avoid traffic and crowds, and Two: if we can wait long enough, that we return to the city to eat lunch at a local place instead of a “touristy” restaurant in the mountains.

Given our paltry 24 hours in Beijing, these turn out to be amazing recommendations that we end up repeatedly thanking him for.

China Then…China Now

My first time in China – also being my first overseas trip – I felt like I’d landed on another planet. Nothing was familiar, and I was traveling through some remote areas that hadn’t seen white people. I felt uncomfortable at being the object of curious attention, overwhelmed by the cultural differences, and intimidated by a heavy military presence. Although the experience of visiting China as a whole was an amazing eye-opener, there were more than a few occurrences that left a sour taste in my mouth.

Now, having been to well over 30 countries since that trip, China is a very different place for me. (And I’m a very different person for China). With the advent of the 2008 Olympics and globalization in general, my white skin and red hair isn’t a head-turner the way it once was. I’ve also got much more “travel street sense” under my belt, and am less phased by cultural differences, and more knowledgeable about (and respectful of) Chinese culture.

So this time around, I’m both comfortable and happy in China. I immediately notice a difference when the smiling friendly Chinese customs officials breeze through the train in the wake of the grim and intimidating Russians. This friendliness only improves throughout my entire trip in China.

Enroute to The Wall

We’re thankful for the lack of Beijing’s notorious traffic on this early Saturday morning, and for the extra rest we get on the 1.5-hour journey in a comfortable car enroute to “The Wall”.

I certainly remember more bicycles and less cars, but aside from that, Beijing looks quite similar at first blush.

Including the smog.

The pollution is so thick that I look at the rising red sun – directly – without even squinting. It would be more beautiful if I didn’t understand that the root of my sun-watching pleasure is in the layers upon layers of smog.

In many parts of China, I remember that clear skies can only be identified by the slight blue tinge directly overhead. You can see that it’s sunny because there are shadows on the ground, but the hazy sky looks overcast. It’s bizarre. This effect has only worsened with time, as you would reasonably assume given a lapse of 18 years.

But 70km out of town at The Great Wall, the blue skies are bluer – in more ways than one.

The Great Wall of China

When we enter the gates at Badaling, I don’t have recollections of anything around me, and I assume that the last time I was here I visited a different section (an entirely reasonable assumption, given the many different sections of the Wall you can visit).

Since it’s so early, there is almost nobody here to begin with, and given a choice from the entrance, most people turn right and climb to the nearest viewpoint. Our guide – and our intuition – tells us to go left.

We have this section of wall almost entirely to ourselves. There are two people about half a kilometre away. It’s a photographer’s bliss, at The (empty) Great Wall of China on this early Saturday morning.

Choosing to get lost in memories of the last time I was here, I take a few photos along with Michael and Jeannie, and begin my pilgrimage up the steep steps to the viewpoint a little faster while they set a more languid pace with their cameras.

I reach the top, and something happens.

A plastic bag lining a garbage bin in the watch tower is rustling in the wind in an eerily familiar way. I look out, and a cable car line that was obviously shut down long ago sits below. I look left. I look right. Can this be?

Suddenly it’s 18 years ago. I stood in this exact spot on top of The Great Wall of China, marvelling at the 1054 steps I took to get up there, and celebrating with my best friend Chris who was also in the ballet with me.

18 years ago, we reflected on the history of this amazing wonder of the world, looked out over the beautiful mountains, remembered the adventures that brought us to that moment, and dreamt of our vast futures that lay ahead.

18 years ago, we took a picture sitting on the steps at the top, geeking the camera after the exhausting climb. A vendor beside us looked on us bemusedly as she said “Hullo! Hullo!” and tried to sell us something.

This time, it’s just me (no vendors, no ballerinas, and no tourists) and I’m not so much exhausted as exhilarated.

Like last time, I reflect on the history of this amazing wonder of the world, look out over the beautiful mountains, remember the (many more) adventures that brought me to this moment, and dream of the vast future that still lays ahead.

Please enjoy this video of The Great Wall of China – then and now.

Email subscribers, click here to watch on YouTube.

I’m very grateful for the chance to revisit my favourite Chinese city of Beijing after all these years; it has been an amazing “full-circle” experience. Many thanks to HostelBookers for arranging our one-night stay (our first night in a stationary bed in a week!) at the very nice Happy Dragon Courtyard Hostel, and to China Odyssey Tours for arranging our Chinese tours, transfers, and even the world’s fastest train from Beijing to Shanghai. You’ve made our trip through China an absolute stress-free breeze – something I can’t be happier for after the last few weeks of exhausting travel.

This post Beijing – Then and Now appeared first on The Professional Hobo. Please click through to read it in full!

Although this train is regularly referred to as the Trans-Siberian, the actual route we are taking (around the top of Mongolia and through Manchuria) is more accurately referred to as the Trans-Manchurian. It is 8,986km (5,623 miles), and involves 145 hours and 37 minutes of straight train travel.

Give or take.

Here is my account of the trip.

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. 

The Trans Manchurian Railway: DAY 1 (Saturday)

We board the train at 11:30pm, and start rolling just before midnight.

We have two conductors on our car – one is a kind looking woman, the other is a very drunk man who interrupts an obvious video we’re shooting to flirt with Jeannie and I. Initially it’s funny and even a little charming, but it shortly devolves into being creepy.

We find our cabin; it’s small but comfortable. The three of us play tetris to settle in and find appropriate spots for our bags.

“Beer?” the conductor says as he staggers into our doorway. We happen to just have finished our inaugural Trans-Manchurian-beer, so he can see that we’ve been drinking. We try to clarify his question. “Beer?” is his eloquent reply.

We don’t know if he’s telling us we’re not allowed to drink, or asking us for a beer, or – as we eventually deduce – he has beer (and vodka) and wants to drink with us. We politely decline as we make for our beds, and we go to sleep that night hoping that this drunken episode isn’t a habit. We’ve already discovered the Russian propensity for alcohol is no rumour.

I opt for the top bunk, figuring if I want to sleep in I won’t disturb anybody. In the middle of the night, I perform an act of acrobatics trying to get out of bed in the dark to pee.

DAY 2 (Sunday)

We are passing by little communities of wooden houses; they look increasingly derelict yet charming, with uniquely-shaped roofs and a uniformity throughout each community.

As we venture further from Moscow, the paved roads turn into dirt roads, and eventually no roads at all (seemingly). Is it possible these are self-sustaining communities out here? I try to imagine how they would survive in winter.

We eat dinner at the restaurant car; I have a thoroughly mediocre and overpriced bowl of borscht ($6) (which is really chicken soup), and Jeannie loses her shirt on a thin piece of salmon and some sliced tomatoes and cucumbers ($10). Michael sticks to beer, citing his stash of instant noodles as satisfactory for now.

We vow never to eat there again, and Michael chuckles. “You say that now, but trust me – before the week is out, I’ll bet you try it again.”

DAY 3 (Monday)

My bed is good, but hard. I wake up stiff after a (thankfully) long night of sleep. I wonder how I’ll feel about it by the end of the week.

We awake to even more pronounced autumn colours, and I’m surprised at how warm it is when we step off the train to stretch our legs and find some food at the (approximate) twice-daily 20 minute station stops.

There are numerous towns and signs of civilization along these tracks, yet many look abandoned and derelict. Only a string of laundry or a satellite dish or the occasional person walking along the tracks indicates to me these places are actually lived in.

Our food situation isn’t good. Yesterday at one of the stops, there were babushkas all over the place selling prepared foods (meat patties and potatoes, stuffed rolls, hard-boiled eggs, etc). But I wasn’t hungry at the time, and figured this would be available at every stop. Besides which – the food didn’t look all that appetizing.

Now, three stops later with little more than potato chips, preserved meat, and beer on offer, the babushkas’ food would have been downright delicious. The instant noodles we brought on-board aren’t appetizing or satisfying, and we’re all getting hungry for some good food. For now we have no choice but to settle for mediocre food.

At the last stop of the day we score a “bounty” of cheese and crackers (our best meal yet), and we enjoy it with Yvan from London (a fellow we met yesterday). We all enjoy this meal together in our cabin, washed down with a few beers.

We seem to be developing a routine of sorts; during the day we each spread out through the largely-empty car, working, reading, snapping photos, and napping. After the late afternoon/evening stop, we enjoy beers, music, and camaraderie at night.

DAY 4 (Tuesday)

Almost unbelievably, the autumn colours are even more beautiful, highlighted by lots of blue skies and sunshine. The same towns which, two days ago, appeared dreary and desolate in the drizzly weather, now pop out charmingly; full of character when bathed in sunshine and surrounded by the golden landscape.

We are thankful for a decent food stop at 10am; none of the babushkas we were hoping for are around, but the little stalls on the platform have fresh fruit and veggies, and some prepared foods that are a little more homemade-looking than the pre-packaged crap (instant noodles, crackers, sausage) we’ve been relegated to.

And we score an awesome food stop at 3pm (which couldn’t have come sooner, despite our moderate morning stop). A lineup of women are laying goods down on cloth panels just outside the train doors. Perogies, dumplings, roasted chicken, salads, hard-boiled eggs, fresh bread, beer, drinks, and some packaged foods are available.

The train conductors look on bemusedly as we fawn over what you might think was our first chance at food in weeks, given our level of enthusiasm.

We feast with Yvan back in our cabin. We ask him how his attempt at reading War And Peace is coming along. “It’s a light read, really,” he replies. “You know those costume drama movies? Yeah. Just like that. It’s just very, very long.”

I guess the Trans-Manchurian warps perceptions on many levels.

DAY 5 (Wednesday)

“Train Time” (which remains on Moscow time) is wreaking havoc with our schedules. The actual time is three hours ahead of Moscow time. So the sun is rising around 3am (Moscow time), and we’re finding ourselves tired by 7pm (Moscow time) when it has been long dark and it feels like bed time.

In an effort to reduce “jet lag” (train-lag?) in a few days when we disembark in Beijing (at 5:30am no less), we’re trying to adhere to the actual time zones we’re going through. But we still have to be cognizant of “train time” to understand when our next station stop is.

This straddling two different time zones is actually quite difficult and very disorienting.

So last night we went to bed before 7pm (Moscow time, 10pm actual time), and despite feeling tired, I tossed and turned for many hours. I don’t know if it was something I ate (I felt like I was in a broken fevered delusional sleep with vivid half-dreams), the change in time, or the bed. But it was not one of my better nights of sleep.

The upper bunk bed is also taking a toll. It’s narrow at the best of times. The bar that keeps me from falling off in the event of a hard break (I like this bar; it’ my friend) prevents me from spreading a knee or arm beyond the perimeter of the bed; something a lower bunk would allow. I am perpetually waking with pins & needles in my arms because there isn’t really anywhere for them to go, so they’re awkwardly positioned above my head against the wall or under my body.

So good sleep eludes me.

“I’m sorry,” are Yvan’s greeting words to me at the 10am station break. “You’ve been noticed by a Russian in my car, and over a few drinks (on him), I kind of agreed to facilitate an introduction. He doesn’t speak any English.” I feign a smile, truly lost for words. I assume he’s not serious; at least I hope so.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Yvan approaches me and Jeannie on the platform with my suitor in tow, again starting with “I’m sorry.” He makes an introduction, and we all stand there awkwardly before Yvan says “There. It’s done,” and walks away.

My suitor starts in with some rapid-fire Russian, to which Jeannie and I reply with rapid-fire English. Neither of us really understand what the other is saying, but somehow we deduce that he’s Russian, and that we’re Canadian. A good time is had by all.

Jeannie and I get back on the train, assuming that’s the end of the episode.

But minutes later once the train is moving, my suitor appears in our doorway as we’re fixing breakfast. “Vodka?” he says. What? It’s 10am! Really?!

We decline his offer, pointing to our wrists (where watches should be) and saying “later”. (Thankfully he doesn’t return “later”).

I feel bad for eschewing this offer to ultimately be social, but I’m tired, it’s hard work to communicate with somebody whose only English words are about alcohol, and I feel uncomfortable about how the whole introduction transpired; I somehow feel “sold” by Yvan, and I’m a little miffed about it.

Siberia

Where is Siberia? I muse as I look out the window. It doesn’t look nearly as desolate as I’d imagined Siberia to look. Is there a line that delineates Siberia – this vast harsh land for outcasts? Is Siberia geographical, or psychological?

We cross the border into China tomorrow morning, and we’ve been on the train since Saturday night. Surely in all this time across Russia, we’ve touched upon this renowned land.

DAY 6 (Thursday)

The sleeping situation is worsening. Jeannie agreed to trade bunks with me after I complained that the top bunk is just a little too small (she is much shorter than I). I settle in for what (I hope) is a good night, but ends up being my worst yet. Similar to my long trip on the Indian Pacific in Australia, I’m finding that sleeping in moving beds long-term is not very restful.

I awake in the middle of the night to the overwhelming smell of fart. And the heat is on in the cabin, full blast. I don’t think the fart’s origin is me, but I don’t rule out the possibility of this being a mixed brew between the three of us; the smell is so vile and thick that I struggle for breath. I sense that it has been lingering in the cabin for quite some time.

I somehow recover, only to be regaled with Michael’s renowned snoring. I don’t know if it’s worse tonight, or if sleeping on the bottom bunk has different acoustic properties; either way I lay awake in mild fits of claustrophobic frustration for much of the night, eventually getting up at 4:15am (actual time; 7:15am train time). Whatever time.

This morning the scenery is more like the Siberia I had imagined; largely-empty fields of brown grass. It’s a slightly-hilly grass desert, dotted with the occasional settlement or town that seems to pop out of nowhere.

I can tell we’re getting closer to China, as the people have a more asian look at each subsequent station stop. Our last stop before the Russian/Chinese border has an almost-equal mix of ethnicities

We stop at the Russian border early in the day (7:30am Moscow time, 11:30am Beijing time – you pick one to go with), and are told through sign-language by our conductors that the stop is for three hours. We ask (again, with crude signing) if we can get off and back on the train, and are given the characteristic nods and “da”s we’re now used to.

So once our passports are in the hands of the Russian authorities, we go off to find some food and “discover” this Russian border town.

It looks like a place that was designed with great intentions, but stopped halfway through construction. Partly finished buildings sit with no windows and rebar sticking out where the roof should be, and streets are half-paved with no rhyme or reason to their jagged edges.

So it doesn’t take long for us to pick up some groceries and make back for the train. Problem is, we’re not allowed back on, and the station is being renovated and reeks of turpentine. We sit on the platform for four hours and watch the train roll off and back on over and over again as they change the gauge of the wheels to accommodate the Chinese tracks.

We are finally allowed back on to the train, and after our cabin is searched and passports returned, we still wait for hours. Although the stop is supposed to be three hours, we roll off the platform eight hours and 24 minutes after our morning stop.

We haven’t even cleared Chinese customs yet.

It’s now dark and we roll forward a kilometre or so, revealing a totally different (Chinese) cityscape full of tall buildings with animated LED decorations. It’s a stark contrast and we’re astonished at not having noticed these buildings from the drab Russian frontier.

Although the Chinese customs process also takes hours, we are greeted by lots of smiling and cordial officials, rather than the dour-looking Russians we had become accustomed to. I am surprised to initially feel quite welcome in China, very happy to be out of Russia.

DAY 7 (Friday)

Thankfully I sleep better than the last few nights and awake with a touch of sentimental remorse that it’s our last day on the train. As much as I’m eager to expand my horizons beyond the small cabin we’ve been living in for the past week, I’ve also loved the journey overall.

I’m stoked for a shower. A week of using baby wipes in mediocre cramped bathrooms to keep fresh has made me yearn for a nice long hot shower. Funnily enough it has skewed my priorities.

“Hey Jeannie!” I exclaim in the morning. “You know what we get to do tomorrow?”

“Um…see The Great Wall of China?”

“No! Well, yes, but we also get to shower!”

Our first station stop (and the only one of any length today) is the capital of Manchuria and a large looking city. It’s a bustle of activity; great for observing and photographing. Unfortunately the majority of my time is spent trying – unsuccessfully – to exchange my many Russian Roubles for Chinese Yuan. Last night at the Chinese border there was a kiosk, but after being kept off the train for four hours earlier in the day, I didn’t want to risk a repeat performance of train-exile, since the break was to extend well beyond midnight when I’d like to be tucked in bed.

Not taking the chance to exchange money however turns out to be a mistake, since I have nothing but Roubles and no way to pay for food on the station platforms or in the (now Chinese) restaurant car. I’m thankful that this is the last day on the train, as my ration of uninspiring instant noodles will barely last me the day.

Ah well…this will make me appreciate the abundance of flavourful (and spicy! God I miss spicy) Chinese food I’ll enjoy tomorrow and for the rest of the following week.

“Why ARE you keeping those eggs, Nora?” asks Michael, reminding me of a mistake I made yesterday and simultaneously giving me hope. I had purchased half a dozen eggs in a plastic bag at the Russian border; eggs which I had assumed were hard-boiled, as were all the other eggs in bags that I’d purchased along the way. (Of course, on trying to “peel” my egg, I realized – the hard way – that it was still raw).

“I dunno. Maybe I’ll donate them to the restaurant car,” I said, before I realized the brilliance of this idea.

And so is hatched (bad pun intended) a plan to walk into the restaurant car with a bag of eggs, hand them to the server, and see what happens.

I wander into the restaurant car desperate for a good meal, and with the hopes that they’ll either accept my Russian Roubles or my eggs in trade for a meal. The Roubles are no good, and they’re not sure what to make of my eggs. Yvan has agreed to spot me some Chinese Yuan, so we go ahead and order from the menu (of course, not having any idea what we are actually ordering; such is the fun of foreign-language menus with no pictures).

I hand the eggs to the server; I have no use for them, and I sign that they are a gift for him. The car is filled with Chinese people, many of whom I think work on this part of the train (which was only added at the border). They eye this transaction with curiosity, then each one of them fondles this plastic bag of five eggs.

Before I know it, the eggs have been prepared (scrambled with some aromatics and garnish – free of charge) and are brought to our table. An unexpected – and pleasant – surprise.

I go to bed early, after my first warm meal since the horrible “borscht” I had almost a week ago. Although I do love trains, I’m excited to get off early in the morning with visions of a shower, a good (stationary) bed, and some excellent Chinese food rolling constantly through my mind. If I could have those three things and stay on the trains, I’d be a happy camper.

DAY 8 (Saturday)

After a week – almost 150 hours – on the Trans-Manchurian, we get off the train at 5:30am, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but excited.

I’m looking forward to re-visiting China; a place that was the scene for my first-ever overseas trip…18 years ago.

But that’s another story, you’ll have to read about in a future post. As momentous an occasion it is for us to have completed the longest section of railway in the world, we’re still only part way to our final destination of Saigon in 30 days. The train must go on.

Such is life on the Ultimate Train Challenge.

Want to see the Trans-Manchurian (Trans-Siberian) journey in action? Check out my video diary of the experience:

Many thanks to Real Russia for arranging for our Trans-Manchurian railway tickets and giving us invaluable information and assistance along the way. Stay tuned for an amusing video diary post of my Trans-Manchurian adventures!

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