All that went in to these two cases, plus two backpacks.
Quite a few people have asked for a rundown on what is/was in my luggage for our seven months of travel from London back to Sydney. Unless you’re going on a cruise and need formal clothes so you can sit at the Captain’s Table, you don’t need to take much. We spread our stuff across a largish suitcase and a 65-litre backpack. We also had two smaller backpacks.
Here’s a list of what I took and a few comments.
• 1 tent shared with Poor John (weighs 3.5 kilos)
• 1 three-season sleeping bag (might consider a four-season next time)
• 1 Therm-a-Rest sleep mat (buy the best, you won’t regret it)
• 1 merino sleeping bag liner (for the cold)
• 1 travel pillow
• 1 pair rubber thongs (flip-flops, not underpants)
• 1 pair runners/sneakers/whatever you call them
• 1 pair sandals (never worn and sent home from China)
• 1 pair Crocs (bought in Austria and worn rarely, may ditch soon)
• 4 bras (have only used two, but glad to know there is at least 1 spare)
• 5 underpants (have only used three)
• 2 pairs long pants, one with zip-off legs
• 3 pairs shorts (have managed with 2)
• 3 sleeveless merino tops (have managed with 2)
• 4 long-sleeve merino tops (loaned one out permanently)*
• 2 short-sleeve merino tops (never worn)
• 1 skirt (worn twice)
• 1 sarong (indispensable)
• 1 bathers/swimmers/swimsuit
• 1 belt
• 3 pairs sport socks (used 2)
• 2 pairs thermal socks (used 1)
• 1 travel towel (stolen in Turkey and replaced with a loaner)
• 1 Goretex rain jacket (which has lost its waterproofing) 😦
• 1 pair warm gloves
• 1 warm beanie
• 1 head torch with 2 sets of spare batteries
• 1 MacAir laptop with Hard Candy case and charger (indispensable)
• 1 Mac charger that plugs into a cigarette lighter (another indispensable)
• 1 external hard drive (for back-ups)
• 1 Canon 450D camera with case, charger and spare batteries
• 2 plug adaptors (both 2-pin round)
• 1 electric toothbrush, extra brushes and charger (indispensable)
• 5 tubes Colgate Sensitive toothpaste (easy to buy replacements)
• 7-month supply of blood pressure tablets
• small selection of antibiotics, water tabs, cough lollies etc (none used yet)
• handful of plasters (bandaids) (easy to buy replacements)
• toiletries (easy to buy replacements)
• 1 notebook (easy to buy replacements)
• 1 Swiss Army knife
• 1 heavy-duty nail clipper
• 1 sunscreen (extras not always easy to buy)
• 1 bug repellent (extras not always easy to buy)
• 3-4 pens
• 1 gadget that told the time and temperature
• 1 soft-pack tissues
• 1 sewing kit
• 1 plastic bottle of laundry soap
• 1 length of clothesline
• 20 clothespegs (bought enroute)
• handful of rubber bands
• oodles of books and more bought on the way
• 1 packet zip-lock bags
• 1 larger waterproof bag
• 1 mobile phone and charger (not used after Turkey)
• 1 iPod with charger (another indispensable)
• 1 nutmeg grinder—go ahead and ask! 🙂
Without ransacking my bag, that’s all that comes to mind. Keep in mind that Poor John and I shared lots of basics. For example, we took 1 pair of nail clippers and 1 sewing kit, not one each, and 5 tubes of toothpaste between us. When we left Australia, our luggage together weighed 37 kilos.
The sandals, pants and most of the cold weather gear got posted home from China—only $32 to send 6 kilos by sea to Australia.
I kept the two lightweight long-sleeve merino tops as the nights were still quite cool.
You may notice that I didn’t take a warm coat. By layering, I actually got away with not having one. In China, I did buy a couple of el-cheapo, all-purpose head wraps, that kept my ears and neck warm, but otherwise we were well equipped for the cold. Lots of our fellow passengers had to buy blankets and warmer clothes, so we were pleased that our training in Africa served us well this time.
As you can see from the notes above, I think we took too much—stuff I never used or never really needed, or stuff that could be purchased enroute. So restrain yourself when packing. Remember, at some stage, you’ll have to carry it.
* A note about merino tops. I wore the lightweight sleeveless merino tops all through the hottest days of the trip (even the 45°C in Turkmenistan). They may be wool, but they breathe and wick away the sweat. You won’t regret taking these in summer. The long-sleeve tops were of varying weight, with one being an Icebreaker 320 (super warm).
What do I wish I’d taken?
One of our companions had an altimeter. I was so jealous and will buy one for our next travels. Otherwise, we did very well, but I’ll let you know if I forgot to mention anything critical.
I also wish I had taken a spare pair of specs. Travel and my eyeglasses don’t mix.
The nutmeg grinder
I don’t usually travel with a nutmeg grinder, but a dear friend, Malou, gave me one when we visited her in Belgium. I’ve had many crappy grinders. Most break on the first use. But I had hankered after Malou’s streamlined, heavy-duty one ever since I first saw it about eight years ago. A few years back, she found one—perhaps the last one ever sold. It’s a Peugeot. Who knew Peugeot made nutmeg grinders?
At least dragonflies don't bite!
I’m covered in fleshy bits—not quite as many as I had when we started the trip, but still too many. So why do mosquitos pick my boniest body part to sink their stingers into? You’d think they’d choose a nice juicy bit with plenty of meat.
Perhaps this frustration is unique to Koh Samui, the island where we are staying off the east coast of Thailand. In less than 24 hours, I’ve had four mozzie bites on my right knee—just my right knee. Lily reckons the mozzies here are afraid of heights. I reckon they are gamblers—betting on who can get through my tough skin most often.
I’m trying my best to win the mozzie war. I bought five 70-ml bottles of repellent in Cambodia. It’s manufactured under the authorisation of Fountain of Youth Pty Ltd the label says ‘soft for daily use’. It also says ‘do not apply on furniture, plastics or painted surfaces’. I never knew furniture was susceptible to attack by mosquitos. But I have a suggestion for more advice on the label—does not work on knees.
Agadore Spartacus
My dear Aggie—Agador Spartacus—is gone and I’m broken hearted. At the impressive age of at least 15, he had to be put down this morning. This was one of my biggest fears when we left Australia in May—that I might never see the old goat again. But I did see him this morning, on Skype, and it was confirmation that it was his time. When he left to go chase rabbits over the Rainbow Bridge, he was surrounded by love and farewelled with tears.
Aggie—who graces the banner of this blog—was a taller than normal standard schnauzer, and had more attitude than any dog I’ve ever known. We rescued him in 2002, when he was about six years old. He made his mark on the family immediately. Just this morning, Petra and I recalled that in the first week we had him, he casually jumped over the 6-foot fence in the backyard—from a sitting position. But we already knew this fellow was going to be a personality and hard to contain. I could write pages and pages about him, but I’ll share just a few snippets, and you can read about his not-German heritage.
This is the dog who:
• could wind down his car window and unbuckle his seat belt
• broke into Poor John’s desk and ate a 300-gram block of Lindt dark chocolate—vet bill $166.70
• ate almost everything and especially loved raw carrots, and once ate a box of Sunlight soap
• stole food from high places—especially sausages
• barked at seaweed the first time he saw it coming at him on the beach, and then decided to rescue it the next day
• loved a bum rub
• hated to be brushed
• attacked a poster of a cat
• chased $30,000 worth of race horse for fun
• bit a lot of people, but never drew blood
and so much more.
Chiyo and Aggie waiting for something to bark at.
Even in a short time, Graeme, who has looked after Aggie and Chiyo in our absence, has come to appreciate Aggie’s quirkiness. When I wrote to say that I agreed that the time had come, Graeme, who has a wonderful way with words, wrote that he thought Aggie was truly unique and said
‘I feel honoured to have had my time with him and to bond our way. Such a character and very individual and, until now, independent. The happiness and fun he has given me is priceless. It’s easy to be selfish when we face saying goodbye but you are right. We are ensuring his dignity is maintained and suffering is ended.’
In amongst all the farewell cuddles from Graeme and our daughters, Libby and Petra, Graeme managed to get this parting message from Aggie,
‘Tell mum—i am in good hands. Thank you for all your love and good times. Nine years with you was a bonus compared to the dog’s life i had before. Really good times and memories. just wish you hadn’t caught me out being naughty so often. I have had so much fun being the boss. And didn’t I show them in my early days. Graeme got to know me when i had mellowed, but we remember the good old days. Which is what we have to hold onto—priceless, funny, quirky, unique memories. I’m off for a long sleep soon and i am so looking forward to it. Damn body just won’t function as i want it to. So it’s no fun anymore. And Mum, you and I sure had plenty of fun. Thanks so much for sharing that with me and giving me a great dog’s life.’
Thank you Graeme for loving and looking after Aggie so well in my absence. And thanks to Libby and Petra for being there for him with oodles of your own hugs and cuddles.
And to dear Aggie, farewell my beloved friend. Enjoy chasing the rabbits and may you catch a cat or two.
A canine Groucho Marx.
Imagine my surprise to run into the canine Groucho Marx in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. I saw him several times over the course of two days—usually patiently and nonchalantly begging food from tourists, an activity and manner of which I’m sure Groucho himself would have approved.
This fellow must be a bit of a celebrity in town as he held quite still when I went to photograph him. At first, Poor John thought the eyebrows had been painted on but, no, they’re definitely real—I hope. I wonder where he hides his funny glasses with the fake moustache and big nose? Oh, wait, he already has a big nose!
News flash: One of our group met Groucho’s family. The eyebrows are fake—added by his ‘dad’. Apparently Groucho recently lost a dog fight. Perhaps dad thought the eyebrows might scare off any other opponents. We wish him well.
A tight corner in the Himalayas.
One of our most spectacular drives of the entire trip was out of Lhasa, TIbet, and through the Southern Himalayas. I’ll do a whole blog with photos about that drive, but I also wanted to share the nail-biting stretch of road with amazingly tight curves, low overhangs, narrow bridges and steep drop-offs.
Will, our driver, trusts Lu to be his second pair of eyes to direct him out of awkward spots, and this road offered up lots of awkward spots.
Lu spent most of her time on foot, waving this way and that and shouting or banging on the side of the truck to let Will know to stop.
Quite a few of us got out of the truck to photograph the progress on this one-of-many tight curves.
The bus conductor makes himself comfy on a kid's chair in the aisle.
Yesterday, after almost three weeks, we were reunited with our truck.
We’d been without it for all of Vietnam and Cambodia and some of Thailand—ever since early October when we got dropped off at the Lao–Vietnam border (see https://leggypeggy.wordpress.com/2011/10/11/yes-theres-a-motorcycle-under-all-that-stuff/).
We weren’t ditched or anything horrible like that. And while I’m not sure of the exact rules and regulations—does it matter—the bottom-line was that the truck wasn’t allowed into certain places in Vietnam so, after he dropped us off, Will drove on to the Scania dealership/repair shop in Bangkok. The clutch had been playing up since the Himalayas and a few other things needed attention.
The reality is—an overland traveller without a truck is like a cowboy without a horse.
Not surprisingly, the absence of the truck has created a whole new trip dynamic for all of us.
We’ve had to haul most of our luggage along with us, but luckily not our tents and sleeping bags. Then there’s been the array of transport—from tuk-tuks and minivans to taxis and buses. Many journeys have been longer than expected, and some have had unexpected hiccups. We’ve had flat tyres, seats that are permanently reclined, seats that won’t recline, windows that won’t open, windows that won’t close and buses with pink curtains. Too many drivers (except those in tuk-tuks) have chosen 120kph as their preferred travelling speed.
A fleet of tuk-tuks ferry us to a hostel in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
All in all, we were very glad to see the truck yesterday but, then again, it felt strange to be there too.
We have another six weeks of the trip, but only five or six more drives in the truck. WE have drives over the next two days and then spend almost a week on an island in southern Thailand. Our last drives will be out of Thailand and into Malaysia. The truck won’t go into Singapore, and will be shipped back to England instead. We’ll take a boat to Indonesia (50 hours or something like that) and then public transport. Our only flight will be Bali to Darwin at the end of November.
Then we finish off in a UK to OZ bus in Australia. Anyone got a horse?
The water is rising in Bangkok.
By the time you read this, Bangkok’s central business district will probably be up to its knees in water. Much of Greater Bangkok is already under water. High water levels caused by heavy rain during the monsoon are flowing toward the city. Officials hoped to avoid—or at least postpone—the worst, by letting water flow into the suburbs. But the sheer volume of water and continuing rain have meant the inner city is doomed.
We arrived in the city on Wednesday, about the time the mayor declared a five-day holiday so people could prepare their homes and businesses. A lot of the businesses that were open when we arrived have since closed and remained shut.
In order to fend off the coming deluge, people have used plastic, sandbags, concrete walls, plasterboard, caulking guns and a combination of any and all of these. From hole-in-the-wall shops to huge shopping centres, the race against the water is on. Shops that are opening each day have tried to make it easier for customers to enter and exit by creating steps out of sandbags or concrete blocks. Fashionable young women haven’t yet given up their short skirts and stilettos and totter over the makeshift stiles. The Royal Thai Army has an existing four-foot concrete wall surrounding their base in town, and they’re adding another two feet to that. Last night there was about an inch of rain in an hour—just what they didn’t need.
Most supermarkets and convenience stores have run out of bottled water. The food shelves are becoming bare. We’ve seen people extending their vehicle exhaust pipes, buying supplies in bulk, blowing up rubber dinghies, carrying boats home on the roofs and back-ends of cars. Today we saw an ambulance carrying people wearing lifejackets, and assumed they had been rescued.
I’ve taken these photos over several days. I’ve been constantly impressed by everyone’s good humour. Not one person rejected my request to take a photo, although a group of girls carrying sandbags got the giggles so bad, they could hardly stand up. I could post another 50 pics, but I won’t.
Try picking out the sour cream from this jam-packed dairy case in Prague.
While we were in Prague, one of Tom’s father’s cousins came to visit from Germany, so Tom’s family organised a big get-together.
In many ways, it reminded me of an Aussie barbecue. Perfect weather, everyone sat outside; delicious food, everyone ate too much; plenty of grog, everyone drank too much; and wonderful friends and family to share in the fun.
It was an unexpected and cherished bonus for us to enjoy this slice of Czech life, and to meet and learn more about Tom’s extended family. Can you believe this? His granddad, who is in his 80s, regularly hops on his bike and pedals 2000 kilometres to some place he want to see. I wonder if that will be Poor John in the future? Although his electric bike doesn’t have that kind of range.
Anyway, in preparing for the shindig, Tom asked if I’d make a couple of dips because he wanted me to show his mum how to do it. Bless his heart, he remembered how I made dips every week to take to the Friday afternoon drinks and trivia quiz at work. Tom always scored the leftovers, so had good memories of the variety of dips I made.
A trio of dips.
Tom’s mum was going to make guacamole—she makes a wonderful one—so I decided to make dips with dill pickle and semi-dried tomatoes. First task—a trip to the supermarket to buy sour cream.
I love to explore supermarkets—in any language—and this one was well-stocked and huge, with more than 40 check-out aisles. But our challenge was to actually find the sour cream. Tom didn’t know what it was called in Czech and, not surprisingly, none of the labels had any English. So it was a simple matter of walking up and down the dairy case, shaking various containers to assess the consistency of the contents. I finally chose a likely candidate, which turned out to be just the thing.
So on to the dip recipe
This recipe applies only to dips with cream cheese and sour cream as the base. It is so simple and so flexible. There are only seven core ingredients.
• 125 grams cream cheese, softened
• 125 grams sour cream
• 60-125 grams of the main flavour ingredient, roughly chopped
• onion (and sometimes garlic), roughly chopped (I use up to a whole small onion)
• some liquid (start with a tablespoon)
• some herbs and spices
• salt and pepper (optional)
The amount of flavour ingredient depends on how much you have on hand, and the strength of flavour you want—I start with 60 grams and go up from there, and have been known to use as much as 200 grams—please taste as you go.
Toss the first four items in the food processor—although you can make dip just mashing with a fork, but that requires a lot more elbow action and plenty of preliminary chopping—and buzz for a 10–20 seconds.
Unless your sour cream is super runny, you’ll realise straightaway that you need to add the liquid now to thin the mixture to a dip consistency. I usually add a tablespoon of milk, and give another buzz. Then, depending on how thick it all still is, I continue to add more liquid (no more than a tablespoon at a time) such as milk, lemon juice, olive brine, pickle juice or whatever I find in the fridge. It depends on what your main flavour ingredient is. I think dips are the perfect opportunity to use up bits and pieces in the fridge. On occasion, I’ve added chutney, salsa, curry paste, jalapeno juice, barbecue sauce, ketchup (don’t tell anyone) and horseradish—use your imagination.
A wonderful big kitchen to cook in with Tom's mum and his niece. What a great visit we had.
Now for herbs and spices. Once again, what you use will depend on your preferences and your main flavour ingredient. Dill goes well with pickles. basil goes well with tomatoes, parsley goes well with almost everything. I often use chilli powder, cumin, coriander, turmeric, Plenty of other herbs and spices can be used. Start with a handful or herbs and add more as needed. Same goes for spices, but start with a pinch to a teaspoon. You can always add more, but you can’t subtract.
Salt and pepper are the last things to toss in. If you’ve been tasting as you go, you’ll know whether either or both of these are needed. Once again, add sparingly and keep tasting.
Garnish with some chopped herbs and serve with veggies, chips or other nibbles.
Prague's famous astronomical clock.
It’s been four months since we had a wonderful visit to the Czech Republic, and it’s time I shared some of the highlights.
We were lucky to have some spare days between getting the main visas for the London to Sydney overland trip and needing to join the truck, so we checked whether it would be convenient to drop in on Tom and his family in Prague.
Tom spent a semester attending year 11 at Dickson College in Canberra. He was the first Czech student who ever came through Student Exchange Australia, and we were delighted to have him stay with us for five months.
His family was delighted to have us ‘drop’ in and we got a lovely introduction to Prague. Pity we didn’t have more time, but we will definitely return.
I don’t mean to confuse you about time and place—we’re in Thailand now—but some of the next posts will be about Prague and the fun we had there.
"Weed' gathering.
Yesterday at the Angkor Wat complex of temples, which is deservedly considered to be the 8th Wonder of the World, there was a young woman ‘cleaning’ the roof of one of the corridors. I didn’t manage to get a picture of her while she was on the roof—she was bent over and moving along quickly. It looked like she was pulling some of the many weeds sprouting from the stone blocks.
Of course, we were wrong.
About 10 minutes later we came upon her after she had returned to earth with her abundant collection of ‘weeds’.
Using a mix of sign language and pidgin English, we discovered that she was pulling these ‘weeds’ to use in cooking. Perhaps she planned to make korko (there are lots of different spellings for it), which is a Cambodian national dish that calls for 15 different kinds of greens.
I’ll be posting another little item on this dish, because we ordered a bowl of fish korko at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant tonight. Very tasty and it has a touching history. Stay tuned.
A roof at a Cambodian temple is a veritable garden.
Where to next? 