Long. Way. Home.

(Long Way Home is yet another terrible Asian name joke - I'm tired and sat waiting for a ferry so that's my excuse for constantly repeating material). 

Here we are, folks. My last blog from out east. What a fantastic month has been, flying by faster than a scooter in Hanoi, or the phlegm of an elderly Chinese man who just can't help himself. This was my first trip to this side of the world and it hasn't disappointed. I've been reunited with an old friend and made lots of new ones too, so I'll take this opportunity to say thank you to all of them. 

From Sasha and Fanny for having me in their home, to Johnny for his Vietnamese nail girl impersonation and pole skills, to Tim for crossing the (metaphorical) friendship bridge with me, and to all of the cast and crew from The House of Dancing Water - you're all great and have made me feel so welcome. I've got to give a big special thank you to Ben Milot for a great two weeks travelling around Vietnam and Thailand, for being a father figure and for being too drunk to stand in Bangkok. And, last but not least, to my bestest best friend in the whole of Taipa (if not the world)...Sophie "Insert Stage Name Here" Robinson. I am so proud of her wee face for all the amazing work she is doing and the life she is living over here. She deserves all the good things that are coming her way and it has been brilliant just catching up, let alone all the travelling/feasting/drinking. So, in the last bit of Derbyshire I can muster, ta me duck for everything. 

With feasting and drinking in mind, that's exactly how I spent my last day in Macau. Me and Soph met Ben and Johnny for an Italian buffet in the Venetian. The four greatest words in the English language...all you can eat. We had a wander before heading to the Ild Taipa Tavern for some farewell beers and festive port. For some reason a Chinese family sat their infant child next to us and made it pose with a glass of wine. If anyone sees the photograph, I haven't adopted a Chinese baby. Yet. We then gathered my luggage, met Tim for a farewell sherry and I am now just outside of Hong Kong on the ferry. Land, sea and air people. 

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Hong Kong airport is huge. They also gave me about £15 in a tax return. I bought some hideous chopsticks to celebrate. I'm now waiting for my flight to Munich, and then my connection to Manchester. Eighteen hours altogether so I'm banking on more complimentary red wine to ease the pain. 

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Made it to Munich. Seemed to be ahead of schedule so now I'm having to wait here for three hours. Quite a few Man City fans knocking about, seeing as they beat Bayern on Tuesday night. I haven't really got any great plane stories. I drank red wine, watched 'Meet The Millers' (which Soph had weirdly recommend to me earlier in the day), and about three quarters of 'The Hobbit.' I slept. It was really foggy as we landed. Getting off of a German plane is a far more relaxing experience than getting off of a Chinese one. This blog is petering out faster than Robbie Williams' career. I'll put it out of its misery when I land in Manchester. 

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Currently freezing in Chezterfield. I'm back safe and sound. It's afternoon but it's night but I just ate breakfast but...you get the picture. I just drank Vietnamese coffee, think that's my 10th of today (or yesterday, or tomorrow...). I need a beer. Here's a picture of me in a mask. Thanks for reading everyone! I'll be blogging again soon on my next madcap adventure. 

More of Macau/Hong Kong.

Sunday night was spent drinking cocktails in the Lisboa casino. It is strange to be a visitor in these places. What hits you first is the smoke. Even the high-end areas like The Venetian have a distinct working-men's club feel to them. The Lisboa was even more old school. Dancers performed the can-can while I drank Black Russians. It's not a bad life. 

Me and Soph spontaneously decided to try the rather fancy looking Chinese restaraunt next door to her building. The sight of huge fish swimming in the window was apparently tempting, and despite it being nearly empty, it was open until 3am. We ordered crab and shrimp dumplings, a whole chicken (including face) that was beautifully cooked, a strange but incredible mix of pig's intestines, chilli and a lot of cloves, and probably the best rice I've had on this trip. It was a pretty incredible meal, and the first authentically Chinese one. 

Monday involved wandering around Venice. The fake one. It is now completely normal to see Chinese tourists taking scores of photographs of a ceiling painted like the sky, or a gondola drifting along a canal of chlorine. To make things worse there is even a Manchester United shop. I wonder if they watched the Everton game last week. What a corporate mess they are. Me and Soph went for dim sum before this traipse around, making up for lost time on the Chinese cuisine front. 

I watched the show for a final time, moving to a different area and getting a bit wet in the process (from the pool). I managed to do some filming, so I will chuck up some videos on Facebook when I get chance. I sadly missed Soph slipping in one scene though. Afterwards I did some Chinese shopping and cooked a group of the guys from the show some traditional food from my homeland (pizzas). By now you know the drill - I drank the night away and carried on my unbeaten record of every single day in Asia containing alcohol. That's commitment. 

Tuesday was my last full day (sniff), so me, Soph and Ben took our weary heads over the water to Hong Kong. Those guys had some tattoos touched up briefly, I spent a large amout of the day photobombing tourists, and of course drank. We went for a lovely French lunch after another brief ferry - think cheeses, charcuterie and foie gras - and then drank Stella to my heart's content. We pottered around the shops, went to a couple of wine bars and caught a ferry back to Macau around 1. A successful last full day all told. 

And now it is upon me! I'll do a blog at the airport later to try and sum up this Asian Odyssey, but for now I'm off for an Italian lunch that my body needs/deserves.

   

Adam is back in Da House (of Dancing Water).

I had a pretty easy day yesterday. Can definitely feel myself and my trip winding down, just as Sophie and everyone in her show is gearing up for a busy Christmas schedule. With that in mind I went to watch the eight o'clock performance, where I was made aware that I would be seeing the full show. Given that what I had already seen was pretty wild and whacky, I was intrigued. And I wasn't disappointed. 

From the moment a giant hydraulic boat rose from the water, accompanied by music that bore a striking resemblance to 'The Pirates of the Carribean,' I started to understand why everyone had been so apologetic. There were so many elements that I had not seen: besides the boat there were fighting scenes in the water, high dives (and I mean high) and the sheer lunacy of the Russian swing. It looks more dangerous than Duncan Ferguson holding a can of Stella and a dead pigeon. Soph was there swimming in the water one minute, the next up in the rafters, part-fish, part-circus flea. Bonkers is about as good a word as I can find. 

After stumbling out amid a bevy of drunk gamblers fighting around an ambulance and police car or three, I found Soph. After ascertaining that the giraffe with the broken neck was ok (note. not a real giraffe), we headed for beers and cocktails at The Venetian. I could get used to this casino business. If someone can wangle me a Celine Dion style gig in Vegas, I'm there. I would accept blue man group though. 

I'm off into Macau now for a wander and some gift buying, cos I'm just that nice a guy. I'll be seeing the show again tomorrow, then Hong Kong on Tuesdsy and then...homeward bound. 

Coloane.

Thursday night was spent recovering from the sights of hundreds of fish being butchered...by eating sushi. I then helped Soph and her friends put up the Christmas tree in their flat. Listening to Buble and drinking sherry is a little surreal so far from home, it must be said. I have been surprised at the number and scale of the Christmas decorations in Asia, especially in Thailand. I guess over here they just call Father Christmas "Ho". Or Jin Gul Bell. Or something else that isn't funny. 

I actually had a kind of lie in on Friday morning. Well earned I would say. I scuttled off to my last unvisited area of Macau, the old town of Coloane. It was supposed to be a lot quieter and more Portugese in influence, and so far it hasn't disappointed. Soph had time to join me for coffee and croissant before shooting back to work, leaving me to explore. It is a small area - the odd temple or chapel, small back-street cafés, dogs sleeping in shady alleys. It definitely makes a pleasant change from the melee that was Three Lamps yesterday. 

And yet staring across the water from me is mainland China. A little more than a stone's throw but not by much. Technically I am already in China: Macau is classed as an S.A.R (Special Administrative Region), as is Hong Kong. It is controlled by China but has it's own currency and a certain degree of independence. In some ways I am getting a China-lite experience. Yet with the sheer popularity of gambling means that a huge number of mainland Chinese are here. Soph told me before that they are limited to visiting twice a year, so that they don't waste too much money. 

As if to remind me of the fact that I am actually in China, whilst kind of saying that I wasn't, a ridiculous number of fireworks just blew up next to the temple I was sitting by. Nobody batted an eyelid. I assume it was some kind of funeral or wedding tradition. But it certainly killed the solitude. I'm not one for blogging about stereotypes but generally Chinese people are loud. And I mean loud. I'm hoping for a quiet flight home via Munich but it won't happen. Guess I will need to knock back the free wine again. 

A strange old woman with a face like old fruit came up to me while I was sitting, and put her hand out. She said "no tea." I really hope she wasn't a prostitute. I moved further down the water and a man was chattering away to himself. As you can see there is little peace. 

I did explore more of the old village. I tried some of the local food; Lord Stow's bakery is an institution famous for its egg custard tarts, and very nice they were too. After some more wandering I went to Nga Tim's Cafe, recommended by Andy for its salt and pepper squid. Very nice! It certainly prepared me for a bus jammed full of Chinese men. It was so unpleasant I got off early and walked past the casinos lit up at night. They have certainly gone all out for Christmas. 

I decided to be boring and have a beer back at Soph's tonight. I am watching the show again this Saturday night, and will get to see the full spectacle for the first time. Only four nights till I am back to the cool embrace of Manchester. 

Goodbye, Chiang Mai

I'm back in Macau after a mad dash across Vietnam and Thailand. It was tough to leave Chiang Mai - not only was it a cool place that we were just getting a real feel for, but we had such great hosts in Andy and Hilary. 

On Tuesday we decided to forgo another coach trip and instead headed to the Chiang Mai zoo. It was only a short ride and gave us the easiest way of seeing the elephants that this part of Thailand is famous for. It was a surprisingly well-looked after place. We got to feed, hippos, elephants and Soph even gave a jaguar some meat. As you do. It was also really quiet for a zoo. And it cost about £2 to get in. Yep, that cheap. 

We paid a little extra to see the pandas, which did what pandas generally do and just laid there next to some bamboo. We did get the chance to get one of those terrible, photoshopped pictures where it looks like you're holding the pandas though. Well worth it, results to come soon. 

After the zoo we met Andy, Hilary and Molly and went to their favourite Thai place in town. It was far and away the best food I've had in Thailand. I had one of the local specialities, khoa soi kai; chicken, noodles in a creamy broth and topped with crispy noodles. It was delicious, as were all the extras. It was also home to Soph's favourite Thai dish and, as far as I'm aware, the only good Asian pudding - mango with sticky rice. You can't beat it. 

We then proceeded to do the done tourist thing and spend our remaining baht on crap t-shirts, copious amounts of beer and some elephant trousers that the people of Chesterfield are going to be seeing an awful lot more of. They are more comfortable than falling asleep in a fat girl's cleavage. And that was about that for Chiang Mai. A smashing city and a great end to to two weeks on the road. 

I'm now back in Macau for around a week before England welcomes me back into its own ample bosom. I celebrated this fact by watching the Man U-Everton game on Chinese time aka 4am. I was duly rewarded with a 1-0 win. And after some well-earned rest, I spent today wandering around the Three Lamps district. The Red Market was certainly an eye-opener - eels, fish, prawns all still alive and (not quite) swimming...until one of many butchers was there to carve them up. It was carnage. Also turns out that a bearded white person seems to stand out in that environment. Hello again, China! 

Chiang Mai/Traditional Thai Massage.

For those of you readers who want me to do all the depraved, disgusting, Englishman-in-the-Orient sort of deeds...I had a traditional Thai massage. It was my first full day in Chiang Mai, the wind was in my sails - why not? Except by traditional I am not referring to "sucky sucky 50 baht/you big American G.I/happy ending." I mean the biggest woman I have seen in Thailand, hands like dustbin lids, a chip on her shoulder and a knee dug deep into mine as reward. 

She started on the legs. They feel alright now but at the time I thought that I was going to lose them. She told me to relax, clearly picking up on my anguish. If she had offered me a happy ending, I would have rolled over and bit the pillow. It was that kind of massage. She walked on my back. She performed a crippler cross face that Chris Benoit would have shuddered at. Four times. It was a relaxing massage because at the end of that anything will be relaxing. 

I do feel loose now though. That might be the Chang going down smooth as much as anything. It's also a general effect of being in Chiang Mai, which is bustling but feels like Tideswell on a Tuesday night compared to Bangkok. We are staying with Soph's friend Andy, along with his wife Hilary and daughter Molly. They are all great and it has made a nice change to have someone to show us around a little. We spent Sunday night drinking Chang, ending up in a downbeat, Rasta-themed rooftop bar. Taking off your shoes before you go inside a place for a drink is a novelty but one that definitely adds to the easygoing feel. The small snatchings of Thai food I have sampled have all been great too. 

I headed off into town today on the songthaew; it's a cross between a bus and a taxi, where you hop on with others and try to get as close as you can to your destination. Having negotiated it with Andy with ease, I managed to end up in another part of town. I was saved by a girl sat next to me, who I assumed was about twelve owing to her braces but turned out to be a nurse. She pointed me in the right direction and after a wander I met Ben and Soph. 

We had heard good things about a temple on one of the mountains around the city, so took a taxi to Doi Suthep. At first we thought the driver was ripping us off but for about £4 each, including an entry fee, he took us on a winding ride through the trees and high above Chiang Mai, waited for us while we visited the temple and then met us to drive us back. The temple itself was busy but magnificent. Buddhism as always been that religion that even a staunch Atheist like myself can like a little bit. Sitting barefoot and watching the world go by is all good in my eyes. The views were spectacular as well. 

As for now, I am sat in a German sports bar. Purely to charge my phone, because I'm assuming I will end up overpaying for this Chang. It definitely feels like a relaxing way to end a madcap dash across Vietnam and now Thailand. I see a lot of similarities with the north-west of Thailand and the north-west of the U.S. There is general feeling of calm, the mountains surrounding the city, the backpackers aimlessly lolling around in baggy trousers. I like it. It feels a million miles away from Bangkok; the capital is on lock-down as protests spread and anger builds. And then there are the prostitutes. 

P.s special mention to my Buddist bud Tom from San Francisco who kept the flight here interesting. 

Bangkok.

There is a beautiful park in the centre of Bangkok, about a half hour stroll from my hotel, called Lumpini Parl. There is a lake, fountains, a little outdoor gym. It seems popular with locals, expats and tourists alike. But that is not the whole story, and from what I have seen of this city as a whole, it never really is. Because a few yards from me a rather impressive monitor lizard is stalking on the water's edge. Another is swimming around a turtle, who until he came was having sex with another turtle. Even the turtles cannot help themselves in Bangkok. 

If there is ever a way to rock up to a five-star hotel in the middle of the night, it is via a tuk-tuk, ferrying this dishevelled Englishman - in typically-tourist "Bia Hoi" T-Shirt - and his friends, smelling of noodles and beer. The next morning I headed out with Sophie and found this very park, a time when I was less nonchalant about a giant lizard swimming past me like a mallard would back home. A man stopped and gave me a hand massage in the park, a criminal offence in England, and we ate some Thai food. Cue diarrhea. 

After plenty of wandering I did something I truly regret, something I said that I would never do on holiday. I really am ashamed, but I guess I was caught up in the idea of being in Bangkok. Yes, I went to the gym on holiday. Should be noted as well that my travel buddies are professional athletes - two days later and it still hurts to breathe. 

That night we grabbed food in somewhere that was not on the side of a street. Madness! As a result the service was absolutely abysmal, each of our meals separated by about ten minutes. Give me pho in Vietnam any day of the week. After that the night quickly slipped into what can only be described as depraved. We drank. A lot. I even drank Chang, the drink of (enforced) choice at my beloved Goodison and the sort of tasteless fizz that makes me yearn for something tepid and hoppy. 

But a fair few Changs later and all was forgotten. It certainly helped to enjoy the last few songs of the Thai Beatles set in an Irish bar.  We sat in a strip club that seemed rather tame compared to what I had envisaged. I had a chat with a girl called Mona, who had an ample personality. A street tout followed us around to numerous bars, and we finally went to his bar. It was empty, save for about twenty or more expressionless women, like department store mannekins. We made a hasty exit and went into another place where - in part due to Ben's exclamation - we were cheered on arrival. Never have I felt more popular in all my life. It was only inside that we realised some of the girls were not as feminine as the rest. An interesting Russian roulette. 

After ditching a girl who offered to sleep with me for 2,000 baht (an eye-watering £40), we found another bar and let the tequila do the rest. An eventful taxi home in the very wee hours, with Ben managing to vomit out of the window in transit, summed up the utter debauchery. To add to our entrance on our first night, we got a security guard to take Ben to bed on a luggage rail. Bangkok is definitely a place to gain some emotional baggage. Then again, the numerous white, middle-aged men cavorting with ridiculously flamboyant girls would probably disagree. This truly is the capital of the mid-life crisis. Luckily I had mine years ago. 

Friday nights events made Saturday a bit of a write-off, not helped by my inexplicable use of "condiments" in the Thai cafe the previous lunch time. Eventually we surfaced, before I went as English as possible and went to watch Everton destroy Stoke 4-0 in the Irish bar.  I found a fellow blue from Ireland to watch the game with, and the Chang perked me up. I then went out for a few drinks in another area, more upscale than the previous night. I ended up on a rooftop bar with some ridiculously attractive people. My people. But after waking up on the toilet the previous morning

and having not eaten since an ill-judged pastry binge at a drunken breakfast, I took my leave. 

And that, dear reader, is it for the Thai capital. We are taking a plane to Chiang Mai this afternoon for another three nights. Time is creeping up on my return to English shores. And I can say with some pride, tinged with a little disappointment, that the only souvenirs I will be leaving Bangkok with are a couple of Chang vests and a sore head. A monitor lizard might slip through customs though...