Travel Logbook

Honolulu, San Diego and the road to Vancouver: 31st March-17th April.

My first stop in the US was Honolulu, Hawaii. My entertainment on the flight from Fiji was provided by the US immigration form, where I was expected to give serious answers to questions like; "Have you ever been or are you now involved in espionage or sabotage, terrorist activities or genocide?" and "Are you seeking entry to engage in criminal activities?" What worries me is that presumably some people answer yes...

I only had one day in Hawaii, March 31st ( a day which, by virtue of crossing the International Day Line, I actually got to live twice). The morning of that day I spent in Waikiki, checking out the beach and browsing the tourist shops. In the afternoon I took a bus ride right the way around Oahu, which cost just one buck. The eastern side of the island was engulfed in a storm and I couldn't see much from the bus. Luckily the rain eased slightly because the road around the northern tip of Oahu had been shut due to a landslide and I had to get out and walk across the beach a few hundred yards to get on another bus on the other side.

My flight next morning was at 6.00am so instead of taking a room for the night I just went to the airport and tried to sleep there. On the plane to LA I was sat next to a Roman Catholic bishop who proved to be a fascinating man. He was full of stories about how the Catholic church has been infiltrated by Jews and Masons, how if you convert Pope John Paul's name to roman numerals you somehow get 666, and how a big asteroid is heading to Earth, a fact the authorities are deliberately hiding from us. I had to tell him that, while I found it all fascinating, I didn't believe a word he was saying.

When I arrived in LA I decided to first go down to San Diego to visit my aunt & uncle who are living there. I stayed with Malcolm & Marie for a few days. They had only just moved to the area so apologised for not being able to show me the sights, but I thought they did OK. One evening we drove out across the mountains into the desert, another we went across to the Coronado peninsula for a look around.

I found an advert for a company called AutoDriveaway that needed cars to be driven up to Vancouver. I gave them a call and next day I was heading up Interstate 5 in a '97 Honda Accord; all I had to pay for was the gas. Which, as it turned out, worked out about the same as the bus fare would have been but it was a more enjoyable way of seeing the west coast. When I got to LA I turned off I5 and cruised down Hollywood Boulevard, then crossed onto Sunset Boulevard which I followed into Beverly Hills. I mingled with the Porsches and Jagwahs on Rodeo Drive before getting firmly stuck in LA's traffic heading down to Santa Monica. Eventually I reached the sea and turned north, following Highway 1 through Malibu as the sun set, until I reached Highway 101. I took this north, heading for San Francisco, and drove late into the night looking for a rest stop where I could park and get some sleep in the car. There didn't seem to be any though and I ended up parked in an industrial estate just off the highway next to a couple of huge campervans which were presumably having the same problem.

Next morning I woke up with a severe cramp problem and after a few stretches I set off again. I reached San Francisco mid-morning, but I didn't linger in the city; I passed straight through and then drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, stopping at the lookouts at each end. On the far side I drove up to the Marin Headlands from where I got a fantastic view of Alcatraz and the city beyond the bridge.

Continuing north, I left 101 and followed Highway 1 again, an exciting, twisty kind of road which I took at speeds that didn't leave much time for admiring the stunning sea views. Eventually, late in the afternoon I came to a town called Leggett, which proudly boasted a drive-thru tree. I'd never driven through a tree before, and to be honest it's long been an ambition of mine. The tree was in a park; the entrance fee was $3 and as the office was closed for the night I was supposed to drop the money in an honesty box. I had a look around but there was no one to be seen, so I drove in without paying, drove through the most amazing tree I've ever seen in my life (a monstrous Redwood) and then legged it from Leggett before I got found out.

This whole area north to the Oregon border was dominated by Redwood forest; I reached it just as dusk fell but saw enough to be impressed. As I drove on through the night some of the tree trunks that flashed past my headlights right next to the road were truly awesome. My aim for that day's journey was to get into Oregon and back onto Interstate 5. This I did just after midnight and soon came across a rest area where I parked for the night and slept in the car again. The next day I set off fairly early with nothing on the agenda except to reach Vancouver. On the way I passed through Portland and into Washington state, past a snow-capped Mount St. Helens and up through Seattle at sunset. I reached the Canadian border after dark and found a half-mile queue of cars waiting to cross. This probably saved me some hassle actually because when the border man asked me what was in the trunk, and I said "Dunno, I haven't looked", I could see he was itching to search the car. There was just too much of a backlog of traffic for him to spare the time though, so I got through OK.

Once into Canada, I made my way to my cousin's house in North Van. Moira and her husband Lindsay have a little fella called Alexander and he's the cutest chap I ever saw. I stayed in Vancouver for more than a week, not doing anything too strenuous; it was just nice to see Moira, Lindsay and Alexander and Lindsay's parents, Don & Jan. Moira took me across to Victoria on Vancouver Island where we visited my cousin Mally's wife, Annette; Mally was away on a course though, so I didn't get to see him.

San Francisco, LA, Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, USA: 18th-28th April.

When I was all done in Vancouver I took a Greyhound bus down to San Francisco. I spent a couple of days in the city which was enough to get a feel for the place and have a good look around. I wanted to go out to Alcatraz but the tours were booked out for nearly a week and I wasn't prepared to wait around.

Next stop was LA. I stayed in a miserable hostel right on Hollywood Boulevard, just down the street from Mann's Chinese Theatre which is where all the hand prints in the cement are. I discovered that my hands are almost exactly the same size as Arnold Schwarzenegger's, although my feet are considerably smaller than Donald Duck's... My first day in LA I went for a walk to Melrose Avenue (which didn't impress me), got lost and ended up at the Beverly Centre on the edge of Beverly Hills. This would have been a waste of a morning but for the fact that I saw Ellen Degeneres crossing the street. Next day I went for a walk amongst the houses up in the Hollywood Hills, hoping to get a close look at the Hollywood sign and maybe see someone famous. Which I duly did when Jerry Springer, would you believe, pulled up next to me and got out of his Jaguar...

My final day in LA I went down to Santa Monica, had a look around and walked along the beach to Venice and back. The Baywatch babes were nowhere to be seen, just lots of people on roller blades and bikes with big handlebars and no brakes (why would anyone ride a bike with no brakes?) For my lunch I popped into a Wendy's and had a burger. While I was eating, I spotted a man at the table in front of me reading a book on English grammar. He looked at me and asked me what the difference was between "it's", with an apostrophe, and "its", without. I explained that one was a contraction of "it is" and the other was used to indicate posession, but I may as well have been trying to explain the principles of good sportsmanship to Alex Ferguson. He told me he was writing a religious book; he didn't need to worry about the words (they came from God), but he needed help with the grammar and punctuation. He asked me to take a look at what he'd done so far and help him out. I had a look at what he had written and, not wanting to discourage him, offered a few hints on the merits of full stops and paragraphs with more than one sentence, then wished him luck and made a swift getaway. I'm looking forward to reading the book when he finishes it in 2050.

Las Vegas. In the words of Obi Wan Kenobi, "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainry". I arrived at this mirage in the Nevada desert on a shuttle bus from LA, along with two Kiwis and an Australian bloke who bore an uncanny resemblance to Patrik Berger. After checking in to our hostel and watching the free comedy show from some LA comedians, myself, the Kiwis and Patrik headed out to check out the Vegas Strip. First of all we had a look at the Fremont St Experience, a pedestrian area three blocks long covered by a huge arched roof of lights that light up to display swirling patterns of colour celebrating the history of entertainment and showbiz.

After this we headed down the Strip and went into a few of the casinos, such as the Luxor, Camelot and New York, New York. Our general plan of attack in each was to walk past the "minimum bet $100" craps tables and put a quarter into the 5¢ slot machines, then sit there playing very slowly until the waitress came round with our free beers. The best thing about playing the 5¢ machines is you only have to win a couple of bucks to feel like a millionaire as the machine pumps out hundreds of coins at you. We didn't get to bed until about 5.00am, then next morning we were all up at 8.00am to take our tour to the Grand Canyon.

The tour turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. We didn't eventually leave Vegas until nearly midday; the road out to the canyon passes over Hoover Dam where we stopped for five minutes at a viewpoint that didn't offer much of a view. After that we continued out into the desert, passing through a Joshua Tree forest; the driver stopped at the worst possible spot he could find to let us take photos. Shortly after that we left the sealed road and took a dirt track which led to an Indian reservation on the edge of the Canyon. We reached the South Rim at a point very few tourists make it to, which was the tour's only saving grace; we had the place more or less to ourselves. We ate a very late lunch on the rim, then the guide led us on a "hike" of a hundred metres to a point where we got a slightly better view of the Grand Canyon and could see the helicopters buzzing around, a kilometre below us.

After another night in Vegas I made my way back to San Diego where I spent a few more nights with Malcolm & Marie. While I was there they took me to see a baseball game, the San Diego Padres against the Atlanta Braves. I had to agree with Malcolm, it was a bit dull. Better than cricket though. The atmosphere was a bit strange; no away fans to spice it up and most people seemed more interested in stuffing their faces with burgers and soda than in watching the game. I enjoyed the experience though.

Tijuana to San Cristobal de las Casas & Palenqué, Mexico: 29th April-4th May.

Following day, 29th April, I went to an English pub to watch Liverpool's Champions League dreams start to crumble at Stamford Bridge, then I took the short tram ride down to San Ysidro and walked across the Mexican border that separates the First World from the Third. I changed some money and got straight onto a bus for the 35 hour journey from Tijuana to Guadalajara.

35 hours on a single bus is a strange experience. Your whole world becomes that bus, life is simple on board and the world outside seems threatening and confusing (especially when no bugger speaks any English). By the time we got to Guadalajara I didn't want to get off. I'd put my time on the bus to good use though, and was armed with several key Spanish phrases such as "Where is the bathroom?" and "I'd like one beer, please."

There wasn't an awful lot of interest to me in Guadalajara and I moved on after one night. I took the cheapest bus possible to Mexico City, but only thought to ask how long the journey was after I'd bought my ticket. The journey that took 7 hours on a 1st class bus was going to take me 12½. This meant that I would arrive in one of the world's largest cities at 2.00am, not the sort of arrival time anyone in their right mind would choose. Still, on the bright side, my second class bus would be taking the more scenic back route and the mountains beyond Morelia were said to be beautiful. Of course, by the time the bus eventually got to Morelia it was dark, so I couldn't see the blasted mountains anyway...

So eventually the bus arrived in Mexico City. I was only passing through as I was going straight on to San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas state, to meet my friend Jim who was coming out for a two week holiday. Arriving in Mexico City at the western terminal, I had to make my way across the city to the eastern terminal to get my onward bus but the Metro didn't start to run until 5.00am. I tried to sleep on the extremely uncomfortable seats at the bus terminal but couldn't, so I passed the time by writing what you've just been reading. The hours crept by; eventually 5.00am came and I took the Metro to TAPO, the eastern terminal. The first bus out to San Cristobal left at 12.30pm, a seven hour wait, and arrived at 5.30am the following morning, a journey of 17 hours.

I think it's worthwhile at this point to ask - why the f*** do I put myself through all this suffering and misery? Why didn't I just fly from Tijuana to Mexico City? Well, I don't really know the answer to that. I've asked myself the same question a thousand times as the miles have rolled slowly by on countless bus journeys this last year. I guess at the end of the day it mostly comes down to cost, but also I convince myself that I'm getting to see more of the country than I would by flying (although on a night bus you don't see anything anyway). I also think any hardship and inconvenience is quickly forgotten, and only the positive memories remain. (Like the time I was waiting for an endlessly delayed train at Varanasi station in India; I whiled away the hours watching a succession of Indian men dropping coins into a broken speak-your-weight machine, and being entertained by their differing reactions to their misfortune. But that's a different story...)

So, reaching San Cristobal at 5.30am, all I wanted to do was get a bite to eat then get my head down for a few hours to catch up on some sleep. Had trouble finding somewhere open at that hour but eventually got a cheap room then headed down to the bus station to meet Jim, who was arriving from Cancun. After we'd had something to eat and caught up on some of the more pressing gossip from Dartford, I finally got to go to bed for a few hours.

We spent the afternoon exploring the quaint narrow streets of San Cristobal. The town is a major tourist attraction in southern Mexico because of its colonial charm and the chance to see something of the indigenous way of life in the surrounding villages. But on New Year's Day 1994 it came to international attention when it was attacked and occupied by guerrilla forces of the ELZN. Today, tourists buy little dolls of Marcos, the guerrilla leader, complete with balaclava and rifle...

Next day, Jim & I took a tour into the surrounding villages. First we visited Chamula where we were surrounded by Indigenous Peoples trying to sell us Marcos dolls and children asking a few pesos for a photo opportunity. We also visited the church. Although it looks like a typical Spanish colonial church from the outside, inside it's very different. There are no pews; instead the floor is covered with straw and along the walls of the church, illuminated by the flickering light of hundreds of candles, are heavily decorated statues of various saints. People don't come to the church to pray as such, but rather to be healed by the various healers who lurk inside. The act of healing involves, among other things, the sacrificing of chickens to honour the particular saint chosen to be asked for help.

After the church we wandered through the village and the busy market. I wanted to take some photos of the local people in their traditional costumes but understandably they weren't too keen. I wouldn't be either... After Chamula we visited the village of Zinacantan, similar to Chamula but with far fewer people around. Our guide took us to visit a couple of local families where we got to see how they lived, what they ate, how they made their beautiful clothes, and, of course, had the opportunity to buy some of the local crafts.

Following day we moved on to the town of Palenqué to visit the Mayan ruins. We arrived in town in the late afternoon and headed out to a campsite a couple of kms from the ruins. We pitched Jim's tent before going to get something to eat, a couple of beers and then an early night so we could get up early and reach the site before the tour buses rolled in. But whoever had had the bright idea of camping (me) hadn't reckoned with the 100° heat of the southern Mexican jungle. It was too hot for me in the tent so I hung my mosquito net from a tree and lay on top of my sleeping bag under the cloudy night sky, the sounds of the jungle all around me. I was still pulling ticks off my body three days later...

In the morning we walked to the Palenqué ruins. Palenqué was a Mayan city that flourished between 300 & 900 AD. None of the buildings is particularly impressive on its own, but taken together and seen in the spectacular hilltop jungle setting, it's an impressive site, and there are plenty of interesting relief carvings adorning the walls of several of the buildings. If you find that kind of thing interesting... Which I do...

Chichen Itza, Playa Del Carmen & Mexico City, Mexico: 5th-19th May.

Moving on again, we took a night bus that same day and reached the town of Merida the following morning. We left our bags at the bus station and spent the morning exploring the town, although in truth there wasn't much to see and we ended up killing time until our bus to Chichen Itza, another Mayan site, was ready to leave. Chichen Itza was built at about the same time as Palenqué, but the style is quite different. The centrepiece of the site is an archetypal Mayan stepped pyramid called El Castillo, exactly the kind of building I always imagined I'd find in this part of the world. The rest of the site I found a bit dull though; maybe I've just been to too many ancient ruins on this trip...

Instead of staying a second night in the village, we moved on to the town of Valladolid, and, and the following morning visited the Dzitnup cenoté. Cenotés are circular lakes formed where limestone caverns have collapsed; Dzitnup is actually enclosed except for a small hole in the roof which lets in a Mr Bean style beam of light. Jim & I swam in the pool for a while before heading back to town and getting the bus to Playa Del Carmen.

Playa Del Carmen is a less expensive alternative to the mega beach resort of Cancún, an hour to the north along Mexico's Caribbean coast. Less expensive, but still not cheap by Mexican standards. All the bars offer eternal happy hours with drinks two for the price of one; just as well, seeing as the drinks are three times as expensive as they are elsewhere in the country. We ended up spending five event-filled days and nights, most of it too embarrasing to be recounted here... One day Jim & I took the ferry over to Cozumel Island and did a couple of dives including one on the world famous Palancar Reef. Spectacular visibilty and massive coral formations but not much in the way of fish life.

Eventually I left Jim and travelled to Mexico City. The capital city of Mexico is the most populous city on Earth with 25 million inhabitants. It is also generally reckoned to have one of the worst air pollution problems, being surrounded by a circle of mountains which hold the smog over the city. In my two days in the city I wandered around the chaotic city centre with its squadrons of green and white VW Beetle taxis buzzing around like, well, beetles, and the side streets choked with traders selling everything from battery operated plastic ray guns to sacks of rice and trays of jalapeño peppers. I went to the Anthropological Museum and looked at all the copied artifacts and carvings from various sites I'd already been to.

I also went north of the city to the ruins of Teotihuacan. These pre-Aztec ruins include two huge pyramids, one of which, la pyramide del Sol, is the third largest in the world. I was feeling a bit low and homesick on this particular day but was cheered up when having climbed to the top of the pyramid, and sitting there admiring the view, a horde of young Mexican girls grabbed hold of me and asked if they could have their pictures taken with me! Their English teacher told me they thought I looked like Brad Pitt!! It certainly cheered me up anyway...