tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1780983958746754132024-03-13T10:19:11.328-07:00Proper Mileagefrom Southall to beyond - a travel blog by Kris GriffithsKris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-27168249679765621682021-09-28T16:53:00.004-07:002022-11-22T05:03:53.226-08:00Lebanon Rising<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3VfGOlXrZWE/YVOcwcrNAEI/AAAAAAAACgo/XeyDblGlS_IoEnQh7m5PtN5nBVztOQj9wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2635b.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="277" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3VfGOlXrZWE/YVOcwcrNAEI/AAAAAAAACgo/XeyDblGlS_IoEnQh7m5PtN5nBVztOQj9wCLcBGAsYHQ/w416-h277/IMG_2635b.jpg" width="416" /></a></div><br /></div><p>It was a <i>long</i> time ago when I last left the country, for obvious C-word reasons. Two years ago in fact: September 2019, when I finally visited Lebanon, somewhere that had been on my list for many years.</p><p>It was to write an article for British Airways High Life magazine and, later, Fodor’s travel guide, on the lesser-known destination of Baalbek and the ruined Phoenician city of Heliopolis. The article focused on an amazing old hotel close to the ancient city which once attracted the likes of Einstein, Cocteau and Franz Ferdinand (Archduke), until a calamitous series of tragedies struck Lebanon in the form of war, bad government and, most recently, Covid, which dwindled the hotel's guest numbers to almost zero.<br /><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdUzycHb2A8/YVWNajkbKmI/AAAAAAAAChs/MeyM8TXRYVMYxmEEZ9NaBamrQ2cH_UpjgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1576/lebanon%2Bfodor%2527s%2Bbaalbek%2Bpalmyra%2Bhotel%2Bfeature%2Bpng.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kris Griffiths' article on Baalbek, Lebanon, for Fodor's" border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="1576" height="203" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GdUzycHb2A8/YVWNajkbKmI/AAAAAAAAChs/MeyM8TXRYVMYxmEEZ9NaBamrQ2cH_UpjgCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h203/lebanon%2Bfodor%2527s%2Bbaalbek%2Bpalmyra%2Bhotel%2Bfeature%2Bpng.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.fodors.com/news/hotels/royalty-artists-and-intelligentsia-stayed-in-this-hotel-overlooking-forgotten-roman-ruins-after-150-years-its-in-danger-of-closing" style="font-size: small;" target="_blank">My article for Fodor's, published July 2021</a></div><br /><p>It was one of my most memorable travel experiences simply because the epic UNESCO site of ruined Roman temples is on par with classical counterpart sites in Rome or Athens, but with a fraction of visitor numbers due to Baalbek's proximity with the Syrian border. Undeservedly so though – I felt safe at all times, and wish that more people will visit this beleaguered city and country as soon as things properly open up again. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aEjknvIlJnM/YVOfgKUyxHI/AAAAAAAACg4/eUTgVFpvHUg3liymJN2VXD6Zl6kR58JzgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_2664edc.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kris Griffiths, Baalbek, Lebanon" border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="2048" height="208" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aEjknvIlJnM/YVOfgKUyxHI/AAAAAAAACg4/eUTgVFpvHUg3liymJN2VXD6Zl6kR58JzgCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h208/IMG_2664edc.jpg" title="Kris Griffiths, Baalbek, Lebanon" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>My other connection to the country is a longtime Lebanese friend named Nicolas Angelina, who I met almost 20 years ago when I started out reviewing restaurants for In London magazine, and he was handling the publicity for Noura restaurant on Piccadilly’s Jermyn Street which I was fortunate enough to be assigned to cover.</p><p>Not only was the Lebanese cuisine and atmosphere there memorable but I hit it off with this affable character who showed me around and we remained in touch ever since as I later started writing food and wine articles for luxury titles and it turned out Nico was heavily involved in the underrated Lebanese wine industry, and still is to this day. His wine brands partnered with and sponsored some seriously high-end events at the Ritz Hotel and Sir Ian McKellen’s patronage at Park Theatre in Finsbury, where I was lucky enough to meet the man myself for my unashamed favourite celeb selfie ever. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tkHSReIUtC8/YVOjFVpUBLI/AAAAAAAAChA/Su4pWCjG3B8quigni1OIpB_YBvuGCmPmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1825/IMG_5265ed3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Ian McKellen & Kris Griffiths" border="0" data-original-height="1664" data-original-width="1825" height="183" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tkHSReIUtC8/YVOjFVpUBLI/AAAAAAAAChA/Su4pWCjG3B8quigni1OIpB_YBvuGCmPmwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h183/IMG_5265ed3.jpg" title="Ian McKellen & Kris Griffiths" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a_WJMbEvaIk/YVOnnNL45VI/AAAAAAAAChI/JwEA-SSe9pcqDiwo-wxlbeg9SI-LlDz1ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/crypt%2Benologia%2Btable.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kris Griffiths with Nicolas Angelina at Bleeding Heart, London" border="0" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a_WJMbEvaIk/YVOnnNL45VI/AAAAAAAAChI/JwEA-SSe9pcqDiwo-wxlbeg9SI-LlDz1ACLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h213/crypt%2Benologia%2Btable.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Me & Nicolas at centre of table</span></div><p>Back to the present day, Nico has kept me au fait on how Lebanon’s wine industry is now making great waves on the international scene, with four of the country’s vineyards making the recently announced <a href="https://www.worldsbestvineyards.com/list/1-50" target="_blank">World's 50 Best Vineyards</a> in 2021: Châteaus Oumsiyat, Cana and Héritage, and Karam Wines winning best in the whole of Asia.<span face=""Open Sans", sans-serif" style="color: #2f3138; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></p><p>This is seriously impressive stuff from a nation to have risen above so much of the calamities it has faced in recent years, not least its current unprecedented financial crisis. It’s a wider story I hope to be covering as soon as I can get back out of the country, and it will be extremely fitting if Lebanon becomes the first overseas nation I visit two years on from it being my last.</p><p>*Nico was also heavily involved with the <a href="http://www.thelebanonpavilion.com" target="_blank">Lebanon Pavilion</a> at Olympia’s Specialty & Fine Food Fair earlier this month, promoting the country’s gastronomy to a wider audience, which I was disappointed to miss. If anyone should be shortlisted for the next national ambassador for Lebanon it’s surely this man. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--o6cyiUcvlg/YVOoZzcgQJI/AAAAAAAAChU/y1q2csaSeqoyep0kYwz0usRjHBvu6pSBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3102.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lebanon Pavilion at Olympia’s Specialty & Fine Food Fair 2021" border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--o6cyiUcvlg/YVOoZzcgQJI/AAAAAAAAChU/y1q2csaSeqoyep0kYwz0usRjHBvu6pSBwCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h240/IMG_3102.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOJFvGxArJw/YVOoZUy_WcI/AAAAAAAAChQ/o_4nyfUP0w01N1nMZQXcUNAo40EDeWiVQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/IMG-20210914-WA0011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOJFvGxArJw/YVOoZUy_WcI/AAAAAAAAChQ/o_4nyfUP0w01N1nMZQXcUNAo40EDeWiVQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG-20210914-WA0011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/albums/72157711076917868" target="_blank">Flickr gallery</a> of my visit to Baalbek, Lebanon. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">My full article on Baalbek for Fodor's <a href="http://www.fodors.com/news/hotels/royalty-artists-and-intelligentsia-stayed-in-this-hotel-overlooking-forgotten-roman-ruins-after-150-years-its-in-danger-of-closing">www.fodors.com/news/hotels/royalty-artists-and-intelligentsia-stayed-in-this-hotel-overlooking-forgotten-roman-ruins-after-150-years-its-in-danger-of-closing</a></span></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-78235010803525974582019-06-05T08:10:00.000-07:002019-06-05T13:49:39.916-07:00Deutschland: Berlin & Lake Constance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After a lifetime of not quite making it to Germany's capital, I finally did so last autumn, and contrasted it with a separate trip to the much more relaxing Lake Constance in the south, on the borders with Austria and Switzerland.<br />
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Berlin's one of those cities that a long weekend is never going to give full justice to, so I'm just waiting for the right opportunity to return. What I did do was tick off all the main sights and attractions, so I can next time experience more of the real city away from the tourist areas.<br />
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The travelogue <a href="http://www.australiantimes.co.uk/travel/72-hours-in-berlin-a-historical-and-cultural-powerhouse/" target="_blank">article</a> I wrote for The Australian Times covered most of these: the Holocaust memorial and Topography of Terror museum; TV Tower and Alexanderplatz; art galleries the Dali Museum and C/O Berlin; and of course Mauerpark (pictured above) where I resisted the urge to sign up for 'Bearpit Karaoke' - wasn't drunk enough to perform for that many people!<br />
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Some of my other snaps from around the city:<br />
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And then on to Lake Constance, flying in to Zurich and also dipping into Liechtenstein for the first time. Did all four surrounding countries in as many days, which was a breeze with no border controls. Was disappointed not to get the chance to fly over the lake in one of the Zeppelins that floated overhead every day, although I did get to sail across from the Austrian town of Hard on a restored paddle steamer - ‘<a href="https://www.hohentwiel.com/en-us/hohentwiel/geschichte.aspx" target="_blank">Hohentwiel</a>’ - which was a trip highlight.<br />
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Others were Konstanz city itself with its ancient cathedral; getting to make Käsespätzle in the kitchen of my hotel near Vaduz; and the Tettnang hop museum and brewery which is Elysium for a beer lover like myself - the smell of its barn full of freshly harvested hops was amazing.<br />
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My travel feature on all Constance destinations visited for Luxury Lifestyle Magazine: <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/travel/hidden-europe-a-luxury-guide-to-lake-constance/">www.luxurylifestylemag.co.uk/travel/hidden-europe-a-luxury-guide-to-lake-constance/</a></span><br />
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As of this month I've no outstanding travel plans save for Green Man Festival in South Wales in August. Just interested to see what happens post Brexit following our big leaving day on October 31st...<br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-66073998939222764102018-04-18T10:33:00.002-07:002019-03-30T18:44:11.341-07:00Return to Zimbabwe - where business is booming again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was five years ago I was lucky enough to visit for the first time the southern African nation of Zimbabwe, to write a travel article about its then recent renaissance as a tourist destination following the return of international airlines to its capital and the lifting of EU travel warnings.<br />
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It was such a revelatory experience to see and feel what the country has to offer, after years of negative press in newspapers and on the TV screen, that when the opportunity to revisit the nation arose last month I jumped at the chance to secure a new commission, with both The South African newspaper and Luxury Lifestyle Magazine.<br />
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On this trip, organised by Zimbabwe Tourism Authority, the group of accredited journalists was much bigger (four times as big in fact) which, while presenting a few more difficulties logistically, also made for a more vibrant social experience, with a range of backgrounds and nationalities represented.<br />
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The eight-day tour encompassed the length and breadth of the nation, which appeared to be in buoyant mood following the recent abdication of Robert Mugabe – Zimbabweans are naturally a happy and friendly people, but this time the welcoming smiles seemed even wider.<br />
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Destinations on the itinerary included Harare, Masvingo, Matobo, Bulawayo, Hwange and Victoria Falls, all distinctively memorable locations in their own right. It was also a pleasant surprise flying for the first time with Rwandair, who co-partnered the trip, from London Gatwick.<br />
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Both articles covering all destinations visited and the supporting airline will be published in a fortnight's time. My photo gallery for the time being: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/albums/72157694715157724/with/41341240561/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/albums/72157694715157724/with/41341240561/</span></a><br />
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Zimbabwe is truly open for business again.<br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-23148552445889470552018-01-19T17:51:00.002-08:002021-08-02T19:22:50.505-07:00Viva Italia: Naples, Herculaneum & Milano<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My travels in recent years seem to thematically occur in threes - from Stockholm, Seattle & Snowdonia <a href="https://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/stockholm-seattle-snowdonia.html" target="_blank">in 2015</a> to the Iberian trio of Lisbon, Andalusia & Cuba the <a href="https://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2016/07/cuba-andalusia-lisbon.html" target="_blank">year after.</a><br />
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Following that triplicate theme my latest round-up comprises three separate trips over the last 18 months to the European nation I've visited the most throughout my life and will never tire of doing so. From its unrivalled vino and food that no British restaurant can truly replicate, to those atmospheric old towns clinging to hills and mountainsides, the attraction of Italy never wanes.<br />
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My first return to the country after a hiatus of several years was to visit Naples and Campania for the first time, as a lucky member of a press trip organised by the city's tourist board in late 2016 to promote its regional cuisine.</div>
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After meeting government ministers and local food and wine suppliers at the Italian Food XP event in Mostra D’Oltremare I enjoyed a detailed tour of the historical city centre and its architectural highlights. While Naples is aesthetically a bit rough around the edges, it makes the contrasting pockets of Baroque beauty stand out even more, and is accordingly a great city for photography. Some of mine:<br />
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I remember eating a lot of octopus and (as it was my birthday) drinking a lot of grappa throughout my few days there, so was badly hungover for my group’s final-day visit to the World Heritage site of Herculaneum (Ercolano): the ancient Roman town destroyed by the same 79AD volcanic eruption which devastated Pompeii.</div>
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My most memorable meal of the weekend took place fittingly on the lower inclines of Vesuvius later that afternoon: pasta served with tomatoes grown on the fertile volcanic slopes, washed down with Lacryma Christi (‘Tears of Christ’) - a local speciality wine made from grapes grown on the same slopes.</div>
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The only disappointment of the trip for me was that we didn't visit any purveyors of the world-famous Neapolitan pizza, so I had to steal away solo for a couple of hours before the return flight to seek out and scoff one with a final Tears of Christ wine 'for the road'.<br />
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And then there were two separate trips to Milan, a year apart - the first a standard sightseeing city break, taking in Il Duomo and various art galleries, and the second last September for the nuptials of an English friend and fellow journalist who had serendipitously met and wooed an Italian woman on a press trip he had himself been on a couple of years previously. </div>
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It was probably the most memorable al-fresco wedding reception I've ever attended, in balmy late-summer temperatures at a rustic venue away from the city which looked like something out of The Godfather. It also happened to be my birthday again, what's becoming an inadvertent annual tradition.</div>
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Finally, it was during the previous Milan trip that I revisited with my then partner an old Cuneo town in the northern Piedmont region, 100km south of Turin, called Garessio: where my family used to holiday at a campsite when I was a boy. My parents had randomly stumbled upon the town while touring northern Italy with their caravan, and after they befriended some local shop-owners and fell in love with the place we would return several summers to this quaint old settlement surrounded by mountains, where you'd never encounter another British tourist. </div>
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For most of those holidays I would be bored out of my skull, especially during afternoon siestas when everything shuts down, so it's only now as an adult I could fully appreciate visiting somewhere so off the beaten track.<br />
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Garessio's most beguiling hidden gem though is the ruins of a multi-storeyed grand old hotel destroyed by fire fifty years ago, still perched precariously on a hill overlooking the town. Now completely fenced off and left to crumble, the Hotel Miramonti - once you've managed to breach the fence - certainly makes for an engrossing afternoon wandering around its empty shell, with plenty of atmospheric photo opportunities you're not going to find many places elsewhere.</div>
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And so concludes my Italian adventures for the time being, with the tourist-tastic Venice next on my list, which I've still not visited. As a fan though of the '70s horror movie Don't Look Now - the Daphne Du Maurier adaptation starring Donald Sutherland as a working holidaymaker in Venice - I have designs on visiting off-season in the colder months to beat those crowds and revisit Daphne's former haunts<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (pun intended)</span>. </div>
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<i>Postscript.</i> Apparently they're remaking the movie, to Sutherland's dismay, so the release date could be a timely peg on which to arrange a visit, as with my Twin Peaks <a href="https://www.roughguides.com/article/on-the-trail-of-the-real-twin-peaks-in-the-usa/" target="_blank">travel feature</a> for Rough Guides. It's reported that the sinister dwarf woman won't be making the new cut though, sadly.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos (c) Kris Griffiths. Further shots of Milan & Naples at <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/albums/with/72157670531215194" target="_blank">Flickr gallery</a>.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Another old hotel featured recently <a href="https://www.fodors.com/news/hotels/royalty-artists-and-intelligentsia-stayed-in-this-hotel-overlooking-forgotten-roman-ruins-after-150-years-its-in-danger-of-closing" target="_blank">for Fodor's, in Baalbek, Lebanon</a></span></div>
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-59828264844909234632016-07-23T12:51:00.002-07:002018-01-21T08:42:41.118-08:00Cuba, Andalusia & Lisbon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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From Stockholm, Seattle & Snowdonia late last year to three Spanish, or should I say Iberian, destinations this year, taking into account my first visit to Portugal.<br />
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That trip was actually to attend NOS Alive festival in Lisbon - headlined this year by Radiohead, Pixies and Arcade Fire - which I <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kris-griffiths/rock-royalty-in-portugal-_b_10954030.html" target="_blank">reviewed</a> for Huffington Post.<br />
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The other two were week-long holidays in proper sunburn-inducing temperatures. It hit 40 degrees in Seville when we visited last month, with the temperatures thankfully cooling slightly in Cadiz on the southern coast.<br />
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Either way I found both cities to be very welcoming and laid-back and housing some impressive historical sites, including Seville's Alcázar and Plaza de España, and Cadiz's epic cathedral.<br />
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I have to say I more enjoyed my time in these Andalusian cities than I did in Barcelona - less sprawling and a lot more chilled in atmosphere. My experience can be summed up by two animal-themed incidents that occurred in both cities, which I wrote about on my other personal blog (<a href="http://www.krisgriffiths.co.uk/blog/spanish-fables-the-peacock-the-snails" target="_blank">link</a>).<br />
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Can also recommend probably the best restaurant I've visited in Spain - Cadiz's Taberna El Tio de la Tiza, serving fantastic portions of fresh local fish in a concealed square (my Tripadvisor <a href="https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g187432-d2166785-r395527785-Taberna_El_Tio_de_la_Tiza-Cadiz_Costa_de_la_Luz_Andalucia.html" target="_blank">review</a>).<br />
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Cuba, on the other hand, was a completely different kettle of fish.<br />
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Like many Westerners have recently been doing we wanted to visit now before the country becomes too Americanised, relations with the US having recently thawed.<br />
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While its crumbling colonial architecture and 1950s cars made Havana very atmospheric, and everything was pretty cheap even with the weak pound, it also presented many frustrating obstacles too, from the often lax approach to service to making it as difficult as possible for you to get online - don't bother is the lesson we learned.<br />
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However the photo opportunities were endless, which is a boon if you've a quality camera and a good eye for composition. Some of my better snaps, including one that's probably my favourite taken in the last five years:<br />
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Like Andalusia I'm glad that I finally visited and experienced the place, but unlike Andalusia I won't be heading back in a hurry.<br />
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If I ever do, though, I'd like to find that bloke in the straw hat and thank him for letting me take his picture.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Full Cuba gallery, incl shots from Mexico City stopover, <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/albums/72157663430306734" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos in this post (c) Kris Griffiths</span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-91567434602609297452016-01-27T15:23:00.004-08:002018-01-21T08:30:13.275-08:00Stockholm, Seattle & Snowdonia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As I've not posted for a while I thought I'd pool into one round-up my alliterative last three destination visits, which were for both business and pleasure.<br />
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The first was a family hol in Stockholm for the first time, my only other visit to Sweden having been a day trip to Malmo ten years previously while staying in Copenhagen.<br />
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This time we did a house swap with a family residing on Lidingo island, not far from the city centre, and spent our time visiting the star tourist spots Skansen open-air museum and the 17th century Vasa warship that sunk on her maiden voyage, both fairly absorbing.<br />
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A lot of the rest of our time was spent trying to find pubs that served beer for less than £6 a pint, and on one day I stole away to watch Stockholm's finest football team 'AIK' destroy Elfsborg. With match tickets about £14, less than half of most EPL prices, it was one of the few inexpensive things on offer there.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2kGWLPP5-Tk/Vqj-IjPNWuI/AAAAAAAABFg/LirQpq33RT8/s1600/CIMG2964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2kGWLPP5-Tk/Vqj-IjPNWuI/AAAAAAAABFg/LirQpq33RT8/s320/CIMG2964.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u8stR2kYNb0/Vqj-JFKvWrI/AAAAAAAABFo/cld5GSJ_I4Q/s1600/CIMG2920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AIK Stockholm v Elfsborg (c) Kris Griffiths" border="0" height="237" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u8stR2kYNb0/Vqj-JFKvWrI/AAAAAAAABFo/cld5GSJ_I4Q/s320/CIMG2920.JPG" title="AIK Stockholm v Elfsborg (c) Kris Griffiths" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next was my first visit to Seattle, to undertake the long overdue Twin Peaks pilgrimage that I'd successfully pitched to Rough Guides (full article with pics <a href="http://www.roughguides.com/article/on-the-trail-of-the-real-twin-peaks-in-the-usa/" target="_blank">here</a>). As the cult TV series I watched religiously as a teenager had last year announced its comeback with David Lynch back at the helm I basically rewatched the whole two seasons and resolved that the time had come to finally visit the filming locations, situated around that coastal corner of Washington State, before it returns to our screens next year.<br />
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I'd always wanted to visit Seattle even if I wasn't a TP enthusiast, having been a Nirvana fan since the early 90s and a craft beer lover since the noughties, and there aren't many better place to visit in the U.S for the latter.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hendrix statue</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mount Rainier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pine Box bar</td></tr>
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Also had a great time at the Experience Music Project museum, where I immersed myself in the permanent Nirvana exhibition, played on several guitars exhibited and even recorded a live version of Purple Haze by local boy Jimi Hendrix, playing drums this time while a random American bloke I bumped into did the vocals and guitarwork. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kurt Cobain bench, Viretta Park</td></tr>
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Finally, after successfully climbing Coniston Old Man in the Lake District last year I decided I wanted to go one higher with Wales' tallest mountain Snowdon, which I ascended with Welsh sherpa mate Vaughan, who as a recent Iron Man contestant was far fitter than me and left me lagging for much of the ascent, particularly near the summit when I was on my last legs. Unfortunately it wasn't the best day for it either, with the upper half of the mountain above the clouds so zero visibility and the cafe at the top stuffed with other climbers so no chance for a cuppa before getting back down.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d4mHUkTJfA0/VqlMfWiQMlI/AAAAAAAABG4/iubvhhufP7Q/s1600/IMG_4124.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Snowdon (c) Kris Griffiths" border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d4mHUkTJfA0/VqlMfWiQMlI/AAAAAAAABG4/iubvhhufP7Q/s320/IMG_4124.JPG" title="Snowdon (c) Kris Griffiths" width="320" /></a></div>
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While there we also gave 'Zip World' - the longest zip line in Europe - a try in Blaenau Ffestiniog and hung out in nearby coastal towns Criccieth and Porthmadog, as well as the Italian-style village Portmeirion. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NR2qam24sZM/VqlTwmm42iI/AAAAAAAABHY/DdZQuZ-hzWM/s1600/IMG_3997.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Zip Blaenau Ffestiniog (c) Kris Griffiths" border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NR2qam24sZM/VqlTwmm42iI/AAAAAAAABHY/DdZQuZ-hzWM/s320/IMG_3997.JPG" title="Zip Blaenau Ffestiniog (c) Kris Griffiths" width="320" /></a></div>
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That trip alone just went to show that, despite it being a relatively small country, there's still so much to see and do in the land of my fathers, with Caernarfon and Anglesey next on the list. </div>
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But it's also been nice to mix things up with the continent and across the Atlantic. My next destination is Havana, Cuba, next month, which is as close as I will ever have been to South America, the only continent I've left to visit (bar Antarctica of course, which someone always says when I say that).</div>
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More of my travel shots at <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/" target="_blank">Flickr</a> account. My article on visiting Snowdonia at <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kris-griffiths/a-weekend-in-snowdonia-up_b_9491550.html" target="_blank">www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kris-griffiths/a-weekend-in-snowdonia</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">[all above photos (c) Kris Griffiths]</span></div>
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-26868241137145104052015-06-05T08:30:00.002-07:002015-10-28T05:20:05.326-07:00My Better Travel Photos, 2004-2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Having just posted a <a href="http://www.krisgriffiths.co.uk/blog/mybetterphotos2004-2014" target="_blank">gallery</a> at my personal website of some of the better photos I've taken since first getting into amateur photography 10 years ago, it became clear that most of them were taken on the course of my travels over the years.<br />
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So I thought I'd post a selection of them here on the more suitable platform that's my travel blog. As explained in the original post, these images were all:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">taken on the only two digital cameras I've owned since 2004 - a £70 Kodak compact & a Canon EOS. I've never been on a course nor read any books, just took tips on the basics from a couple of friends who had done and a few jobbing snappers met in the line of the duty: rule of thirds, depth of field, etc. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Only kit lens used with the Canon, no filters or Photoshop and all hand-held - don't think I'll ever get to the tripod stage... </span> </blockquote>
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<b><u>KODAK COMPACT, 2004-2011</u> </b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austrian Alps, 2004</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angkor Wat, Cambodia, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ginza, Tokyo, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sydney Opera House, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marrakech, Morocco, 2011</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Monica beach, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pembroke Castle, 2008</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austrian Alps, 2007</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Essaouira, Morocco, 2011</td></tr>
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<b><u>CANON EOS DSLR, 2007-2014</u></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Namib Desert, 2010</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordeaux square, 2009</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amiens square, 2007</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicars' Close, Wells, Somerset, 2007</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe, 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Man of Coniston, Lake District, 2013</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barcelona, 2014 </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ripon Cathedral, 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sitges, Spain, 2014</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holasovice, Czech Republic, 2013</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Genoa statue, 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">York Cemetery, 2015</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos (c) Kris Griffiths. More at my <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/" target="_blank">Flickr</a> account.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://muckrack.com/kris-griffiths" target="_blank">Muck Rack</a> link.</span></div>
Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-28259250911995826532015-05-18T09:45:00.005-07:002018-01-21T08:48:02.365-08:00Dreadlock Holiday: Jamaica<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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From Margate to Montego Bay. Well, not quite - I didn't actually make it out of capital city Kingston during my short week in the Caribbean earlier this year.<br />
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There primarily to undertake a long-planned Bob Marley pilgrimage on the eve of what would have been his 70th birthday, my trip concluded with the massive outdoor celebratory concert on Kingston Waterfront which saw Jamaica's reggae royalty performing alongside a few of Marley's own sons.<br />
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I have to say it was an almost religious experience watching that show from the front row and feeling the love for the national hero who catapulted his genre onto a global stage in the 1970s.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capleton at Bob Marley 70th birthday concert</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Damian Marley <span style="font-size: xx-small;">both © Kris Griffiths</span></td></tr>
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The week leading up to the gig had seen me traverse the city in Bob's footsteps, taking in the neighbourhood he grew up in (Trenchtown), the studio he recorded in (Tuff Gong) and the mountainside retreat he escaped to following the attempt on his life (Strawberry Hill, pic below).<br />
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While so many Western tourists in Jamaica gravitate to coastal resorts like aforementioned Montego, it was gratifying to 'keep it real' in the city and soak up the local positive vibrations around the annual week of celebration.<br />
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It was also fascinating to find out more about the national Rastafari religion that pervades the city and island. There is always a waft of ganja on the breeze but not much in the way of the heavy drinking culture more prevalent on Britain's shores.<br />
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I would earnestly recommend to any fans of Marley and reggae music that they make the pilgrimage at least once in their lifetime, to see exactly where the genre's riddims originate from and to experience the peace and one love promoted by its leader, struck down way before his time.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">My Rough Guides <a href="http://www.roughguides.com/article/kingston-jamaica-in-the-footsteps-of-bob-marley/" target="_blank">feature</a> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">on Kingston pilgrimage</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kris-griffiths/bob-marley-memorial_b_6696664.html" target="_blank">review</a> of 70th bday concert for Huffington Post.<br />All photos except Strawberry Hill (c) Kris Griffiths.</span></div>
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-15812232311075527232014-11-02T08:21:00.000-08:002015-05-18T11:46:08.272-07:00Coasting on a Sunny Halloween: Margate<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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From Zimbabwe to the Kent coast. Last week I visited Margate for the second time this year, the first instance in June to review the locally famous Ambrette for an Esquire piece on Britain's best Indian restaurants, and the second to spend a bit more time in the town after that previous eye-opening visit.<br />
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For me, The Ambrette epitomises Margate's transformation from faded seaside town to arty heavyweight, which was a joy to walk around following an absence of around 25 years since last visiting as a boy. From the new Turner Contemporary Gallery to the Banksy-style wall murals around the Old Town, Margate has much more of an edge to it these days, which is pleasing to see after the evidence of its decline in the last couple of decades.<br />
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Was just as pleasing to see the plans of the imminent return of Dreamland, the iconic amusement park I'd visited twice as a boy, which has lain dormant for the last ten years. Was quite poignant during my previous visit to see it for the first time in its sorry state through the railings of the car park it currently dwells within.Will definitely be back for its resurrection next year as the world's first heritage amusement park.<br />
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While on the subject of that scene, as I mentioned to the Dreamland representative over afternoon tea at the Sands Hotel, I wish the council would do something with that tower block, and I don't mean knock it down - just paint it or give it some kind of arty cladding, in keeping with the rest of the town's new aesthetic. Many local residents and workers don't seem to mind it, but you can see why it's regarded by many others as a bit of an eyesore.<br />
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The view over the sea from the Sands Hotel balcony was my parting shot - not quite a Turner sunset but pleasant enough to see what this coastal spot's still got going for it.<br />
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And so concluded my Turner's Margate tour. The hotels I stayed in on each visit are also indicative of what the town has to offer on the accommodation front, from the Edwardian charm of Walpole Bay Hotel to the more contemporary stylings of the newer Crescent Victoria, and both at highly reasonable tariffs.<br />
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And as the post title mentions, this visit was blessed by the warmest weather seen on record for Halloween, which made the beach strolls around Botany Bay even better, sans the summer crowds.<br />
So yeah, see you next year Margate.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My latest feature on Margate will appear in Waitrose Weekend magazine in January.</span></div>
Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-49352538318451232732014-07-31T05:45:00.000-07:002018-02-15T07:28:54.675-08:00Zimbabwe - the Forgotten Land<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been another lively year so far for getting about - return visits to Liguria, Czech Republic & <a href="http://www.englishluxury.com/2014/04/11/profile-best-western-lake-district-hotels/" target="_blank">Lake District</a> - but all of it blanches in comparison to a 10-day tour in spring of the forgotten land of Zimbabwe in southern Africa, which is starting to bang the tourism drum again after years in the doldrums.<br />
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The intro to my recent <a href="http://www.roughguides.com/article/5-reasons-to-go-to-zimbabwe/" target="_blank">Rough Guides feature</a> sums up the situation:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"It’s been a tragedy for the people of Zimbabwe that the country has garnered so much unfavourable publicity over the last 10 years, with headlines ranging from its controversial land redistribution programme to the ensuing collapsed economy. In the last few years, however, it's made a steady recovery following a new currency, a fairer power-sharing government, international airlines returning to its capital and the EU having long lifted its travel warnings, helping sow seeds of a tourist renaissance..."</span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hwange National Park <span style="font-size: xx-small;">© Kris Griffiths 2014</span></td></tr>
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As the article goes on to explain there are a plethora of reasons to visit the now much safer nation, from the remotest of wild safaris to the world's largest waterfall in Victoria Falls, where I foolhardily bungee-jumped 110m into its gorge <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6qMaOdmTRM">(YouTube link)</a></span>.<br />
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Other highlights include ancient ruined cities like <a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/364" target="_blank">Great Zimbabwe</a> in Masvingo, after which the country was named, and cave paintings in Matobo more than 10,000 years old. Photo opportunities were never-ending.</div>
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There was a bleaker side to it all though. So many of the people here are still destitute, as journeys through townships in Harare and Bulawayo made clear. </div>
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They're crying out for the tourist dollar, especially after years of absurd hyperinflation, and it's good to know your money goes into their hands, not to Mugabe's enduring regime. Unfortunately there were only so many mini bongos I could buy from the market stalls, so did my best to sample as many local brews at bars and hotels as I could outside meal times – all helps.</div>
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Hopefully Mugabe will be history sooner rather than later as it's certainly off-putting seeing his framed mug everywhere you look, not to mention his people on the streets while he commissions <a href="http://www.businessweek.com/articles/2014-03-27/north-korea-bags-5-million-for-building-two-mugabe-statues" target="_blank">giant statues of himself</a> with their money.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bulawayo street dwellers <span style="font-size: xx-small;">© Kris Griffiths 2014</span></td></tr>
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The good outweighs the bad though, and hope springs eternal. <br />
Give Zim a chance.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(More city & safari photos at my <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/sets/72157640545105333/" target="_blank">Flickr</a> gallery. <br />Full Rough Guides feature on <a href="http://www.roughguides.com/article/5-reasons-to-go-to-zimbabwe/" target="_blank">reasons to visit Zimbabwe</a>.)</span></span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-50061836950773493992013-12-16T14:58:00.002-08:002016-01-28T11:29:54.224-08:00Krakow and Auschwitz<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So I finally made it to Poland last month, to the medieval city of Krakow and nearby Auschwitz-Birkenau.<br />
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Not only was it a particularly memorable weekend thanks to visiting the latter, Krakow itself was memorable for being a great ancient city with a lot more going for it than most non-capitals in this part of the continent.<br />
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For a start it has Europe's biggest medieval market square at its heart, with the landmark St Mary's Basilica in one corner and rows of decent-quality restaurants and bars on all sides.<br />
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The best waterholes though were in the streets snaking off from the square, a lot of them subterranean spaces hewn out from the under-<br />
lying bedrock so it was almost like drinking in decorated caves – have not seen many such bars anywhere else.<br />
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And I've not witnessed a drinking culture so 'spirited' since visiting Dublin, with the big exception that Polish booze is about 3x cheaper so it could get perilous if you're that way inclined (no surprise it's popular with stag parties here).<br />
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Away from the square is Wawel Castle and Cathedral on a fortress-like hill overlooking the city. And shortly away from the city is a UNESCO World Heritage attraction, the Wieliczka Salt Mine, which was once one of the world's largest and most profitable industrial sites when salt was the medieval equivalent of today's oil.<br />
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There are 200km of passages to walk through (some of), created by 900 years of mining, and at least 2,000 caverns hewn out, as well as some impressive artistic wall carvings.<br />
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The most unforgettable part of the weekend though was always <br />
going to be the journey through one of history's darker chapters at Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp complex (have written a separate, more substantial <a href="http://www.krisgriffiths.co.uk/1/post/2013/12/intense-humming-of-evil-experiencing-auschwitz.html" target="_blank">blog piece</a> at my other website on my experience there). </div>
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It was an aptly grey day weather-wise when I visited but here's a gallery of some of the better photos that came out of the camp buildings and piles of bi-products from its victims.</div>
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A sombre note to end the year on, but I'd robustly recommend anyone reading to visit both these places in 2014.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/kris-griffiths/the-intense-humming-of-ev_b_6554014.html" target="_blank">Huffington Post piece on visiting Auschwitz</a></span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-33900076842769782013-07-10T16:47:00.000-07:002018-01-21T08:52:48.978-08:00Frenetic in Grenoble<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ok, it's not 'proper mileage' by Tokyo/Calcutta standards but I thought I'd post about a French media trip I went on last month as my personal travels won't be extending beyond Europe until next year at least – time and funds allocated to a pair of stag weekends and weddings as two more mates call time.<br />
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When I was invited on a trip to Grenoble and the French Alps by Rhône-Alpes Tourism I accepted only because the programme was full of mountain-based activities of the more enlivening variety than the usual strolling around vineyards and villages itinerary I've seen too many times before.<br />
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On the first day was zipwiring from great heights between a mountain and the Bastille hill fortress:<br />
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The next day was mountain-biking – proper mountain-biking – at breakneck speeds down some of the steeper slopes of a nearby Alpine mountain, sensibly padded out in full body protection:</div>
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On the third and final day, it was up another mountain in the Les Deux Alpes range where we at first watched some paragliders descend through the clouds (sadly paragliding wasn't on the itinerary):</div>
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But then we ascended even higher to the glacier at the summit – Europe's largest skiable glacier – where you can snowboard even in the height of summer. Here's me carving out a turn:</div>
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Not really. I didn't take my SLR on the piste because it's too clunky, and anyway on only the second run I caught an edge, smacked my head on an icy part of the slope and had to limp back down with a nosebleed, double vision and an instant killer headache. </div>
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It wasn't bad concussion or anything but that was the end of my weekend! Luckily we were flying home that evening anyway, although the flight certainly didn't help the throbbing. Lesson learned: wear a helmet, even if experienced.</div>
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The other overarching lesson though was that Grenoble is a great city, classically French and with a wealth of frenetic active options to get involved with in the surrounding mountains – perfect for a stag do, which I'd seriously consider now if I ever get hitched.</div>
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My full article will be appearing in two London publications at the end of the month. For a fuller gallery of SLR shots taken check out <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/krisgriffiths/sets/72157634546815533/" target="_blank">my Flickr page</a>. </div>
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-41664703326933084072013-02-16T03:59:00.000-08:002017-11-27T11:19:12.780-08:00A Painful Passage to India - Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So there we both were at the packed departure lounge for Calcutta at Dubai Airport, spaced out and drained from <a href="http://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/a-painful-passage-to-india-part-1.html" target="_blank">the first leg and six-hour linger</a>, having then searched for a wheelchair for less-mobile mum and now waiting for the first boarding announcement.<br />
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Usually the airline lets those in wheelchairs and carrying babies board first but a major hindrance had materialised: a large number of passengers had decided to not so much as queue before the gate as form an impenetrable crowd of bodies and baggage blocking the way for whoever was called first.<br />
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Now I could understand the thinking behind this approach if we were about to board a Ryanair short-hop with unallocated seating, when many flyers customarily want first dibs on seats to the extent that they'll start queuing long before boarding, and if you want to guarantee a seat next to your partner then you have join the line.<br />
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However, on a long-haul flight with pre-allocated seats, when they call you on incrementally in specific row sections, there is actually zero point in queuing early unless you somehow knew they were calling your seats first. Just standing blank-faced like cows waiting for milking, and then of course refusing to budge when the announcement arrives for rows A to C to please begin boarding.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">easy boarding - not realistic</span></div>
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Naturally, those holding the correct tickets can’t get past the unmoving mass, some of whom at the front have the cheek to try walking through anyway, then look affronted when told it’s not their turn by the gate attendant.<br />
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And then, to make matters nicely worse, instead of sensibly rectifying the situation with a polite yet firm announcement for everyone to just back away from the gate until your section's been called, the airline then announces for rows D to G to begin boarding, after the previous rows have very visibly been unable to get through.<br />
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Hell breaks loose as a mini stampede piles through, Bengali curses and exclamations ringing out as people get shunted. All mum and I can do is hang back shaking our heads at the sheer needless idiocy of it all - I regret not recording the scene with my camera to create a realistic anti-advert for the airline and air travel in general.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">flight welcome - not realistic</span></div>
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Once we’d finally scrambled onto the jumbo the bad luck continued. The only thing that had kept me alert and sane on the previous flight was the entertainment screen with games and movies on demand. On this one the screen was too small and hazy and you could only watch what they had chosen at the times they choose. Stuck with an obscure film I could barely see or hear on a much noisier flight, I wasn’t a happy camper.<br />
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The only thing that could alleviate the situation was a semi-decent in-flight meal as the extended wakefulness and previous missions had triggered some major rumbles. A dragged-out feed could also kill the best part of an hour too, but it would have to be something soft-ish as my swollen jaw couldn’t handle anything harder than a banana. At long last it arrived.<br />
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Lamb medallions - the airline version, ie. having sat around for so long their consistency was closer to pencil erasers than meat. Unable to chew them without wincing and clasping my face, that was the moment I hit rock bottom, 30,000 feet above the Arabian Sea. All my options had dried up. Nothing left could lighten my spirits while trapped in that seat – I couldn’t even drink alcohol as I was on so many antibiotics and feeling rough as fuck. I did try though, and funnily enough it didn’t help.<br />
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After managing to scrape together a mini-meal from the limp side vegetables, condiment sachets and mum's donations I had to ride out the rest of the flight playing a primitive version of Battleships on a tiny fuzzy screen that kept freezing, broken up only by an old Bollywood flick with no subtitles.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">hahaha</span></div>
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I spent the last two hours sat motionless with my eyes closed, praying for the release of sleep that wouldn’t arrive until we’d landed and made it out of the airport and back to the hotel. Needless to say that part didn’t go particularly smoothly either but that’s a different story to recount another time, along with the more positive sides to India that weren’t mired in chaos.<br />
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In that first jerky hour-long cab ride through central Calcutta however, what should've been an entertaining eye-opening welcome to the city’s bustle seemed like the shrieking road to hell, a ceaseless barrage of noise, fumes and gridlock traffic, emaciated figures looming up at the window at every standstill, mutely begging us captive passengers for currency we didn’t yet possess.<br />
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It put things into perspective though – my immediate problems of oral pain, hunger and sleep deprivation would have receded by the next day, the jaw a little longer, although that would be superseded by the affliction cursing most Western visitors here, of which I won’t need to go into much detail.<br />
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My hardy mum also needed to dialyse every other day at local hospitals while experiencing the same, struggling with the nature of the beast of a modern-day urban India completely at odds with the more serene memories of her childhood here.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20857969" target="_blank">Kris Griffiths</a> BBC link <a href="https://krisgriffiths.contently.com/" target="_blank">Kris Griffiths</a> Contently <a href="http://www.englishluxury.com/2014/04/11/hitting-rock-bottom-the-darker-side-of-the-english-countryside/" target="_blank">Kris Griffiths</a> recent disaster story</span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-19390451848454034422013-02-15T16:28:00.000-08:002017-11-28T18:44:01.393-08:00A Painful Passage to India: Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I’ve had some great luck on flights over the years. For my very first long-haul, to LA in the mid-90s, my fam and I were jammily upgraded to business class after my dad’s winning banter with the check-in clerk.<br />
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Then in early 2011 I hit it off with a ginger girl sat beside me on a budget flight to Marrakech, telling her she reminded me of Catherine Tate with her Easyjet-orange hair, a bold negging gambit that paid off as we're still together (and she looks nothing like Catherine Tate).<br />
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It's not all been good though. A domestic flight to Inverness in 2004 was interrupted halfway by the pilot announcing that due to an “engine fault” we had to turn back to London immediately. Not only was that return descent as trepidatious as can be, we had to wait hours to get back into the air and no one was compensated.<br />
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Finally, a night-flight to Tokyo in 2009 turned into a bizarre battle of endurance with the paranoid Japanese man next to me, which <a href="http://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2009/07/japan-tokyo.html" target="_blank">ended worse for him than it did for me</a>.<br />
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All of them were blown out of the sky though by my Emirates flight to Calcutta last month, during which I reached a nadir of despair that was to become a harbinger of my stay in India.<br />
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The prologue to it all is that I’d actually been looking forward to the trip for months, to be finally visiting my Anglo-Indian mum's hometown (she'd not returned since childhood) and to meet at the triennial global reunion in Calcutta hundreds of fellow Anglo-Indians whose dying community <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20857969" target="_blank">I’d just featured for the BBC</a>.<br />
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The first major spanner in the works was that a long-dormant impacted wisdom tooth had suddenly chosen to unleash a siren-wailing level of pain in the months leading up to the trip. My dentist told me it had to come out and booked me in for the extraction – four days before the flight.<br />
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The op wasn't that bad, the only truly grim moment a preliminary injection penetrating my gum almost to the jawbone, but it was nothing compared to the ensuing days of swelling, inability to eat and ultimately a rank infection necessitating further injections back into the wound.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6VOk3VVeOQU/UR6gkHt71VI/AAAAAAAAALQ/osTtEHqLfzU/s1600/tooth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6VOk3VVeOQU/UR6gkHt71VI/AAAAAAAAALQ/osTtEHqLfzU/s320/tooth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">dentist website photo - a bit unrealistic</span></div>
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By the time I’d arrived at Gatwick with my mum I’d taken over 50 painkillers in five days as well as a triple-course of antibiotics and now a long stretch of anti-malaria pills which, as many will affirm, can make you feel nauseous for hours.<br />
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My final problem was that as I can’t sleep on planes the first seven-hour night-leg was spent awake and aware of a new development – altitude pressure causing extraction-wound throbbing. Then after landing in Dubai there were six hours to kill before the connecting flight, so into the bright morning we traipsed, looking for a taxi we could haggle with a handful of old dollars and a five-pound note to drive us round the sights and keep us alert 'til check-in.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OEeSAjW9xv8/UR6huHhE8tI/AAAAAAAAALY/zHSH_kLKlB8/s1600/d022ed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OEeSAjW9xv8/UR6huHhE8tI/AAAAAAAAALY/zHSH_kLKlB8/s320/d022ed.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">classic brave face</span></div>
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Funnily enough we found an Indian driver seduced by the fiver of all things who agreed to take us on a whistle-stop tour of the Burj al-Arab and Khalifa. It was trippy enough beholding these behemoths jet-lagged in blazing sunshine having left freezing dark England ten hours previously, but by the time the next busy departure lounge swam into view five hours later, that’s when things really, <i>really</i> started to get shit.<br />
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Continued in part 2: <a href="http://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/a-painful-passage-to-india-part-2.html" target="">Dubai to Calcutta</a><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-63723052999479087952012-10-30T07:01:00.002-07:002021-10-14T16:55:59.667-07:00Japan: Tokyo - the city<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Unsurprisingly after such a </span><a href="http://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2009/07/japan-tokyo.html" style="font-family: georgia;" target="_blank">bizarre, sleepless flight</a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> I was feeling pretty spaced while waiting at the baggage carousel, then undergoing the rigorous immigration control, keeping my eye out for Ken in case he was on the verge of collapse again. My own problems began when I arrived at the airport's subway station and had to work out how to get to my hostel in the centre of the city during morning rush hour.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmF-IntT9cI/AAAAAAAAAAs/NJ68LEeR7yw/s1600-h/tokyo-subway-map.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359703718110688706" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmF-IntT9cI/AAAAAAAAAAs/NJ68LEeR7yw/s400/tokyo-subway-map.gif" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 283px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Toky Subway Map (translated)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Unless you’ve assiduously studied the language before arriving, Japanese is indecipherable because of the script it’s written in, symbols not letters, so you can’t look anything up in a phrasebook. And the untranslated Tokyo subway map didn't have the most simple design, just a jumble of coloured spaghetti. Thankfully though, once you’ve made it through the gates armed with the correct ticket, you find that one of the few things in Tokyo written in Roman script is the station name at each stop, in smaller letters beneath the Japanese ones, for the benefit of Westerners. Without them we’d be in trouble.<br /><br />It took nearly two hours to reach central Tokyo on a rapid bullet train, which is testament to the city’s size, and which is why I specifically booked a hostel right in the centre, as it’s better to be in the middle moving outwards than vice versa. More on Tokyo’s hugeness later. For now, I had a fresh problem to face, namely that I couldn’t check in to the hostel until 2.30pm, so had to walk the streets for the next four hours </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">after dumping my rucksack there</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">. Having just experienced the long trippy flight, this next stretch of time was to become even trippier for the very reason that I hadn’t slept on it and not much the night before that, had drunk copiously, and was now thrust into an alien world of futuristic skyscrapers overhead and dense swarms of Japanese pedestrians at ground level. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGAOIwTiVI/AAAAAAAAAA8/0pwv6GuvS6Q/s1600-h/800px-E2_series_Shinkansen_train_at_Tokyo_Station.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359706011904215378" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGAOIwTiVI/AAAAAAAAAA8/0pwv6GuvS6Q/s400/800px-E2_series_Shinkansen_train_at_Tokyo_Station.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-size: 11px;">bullet train</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="font-size: 11px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 14px;"></span></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmJBssrIXeI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hetYN4NBlFo/s1600-h/FB100_2473.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359918742686424546" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmJBssrIXeI/AAAAAAAAAFs/hetYN4NBlFo/s400/FB100_2473.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">the trains sometimes travel so quickly that passengers lose consciousness</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Shinjuku, the central district I found myself in, is Tokyo’s main commercial centre, housing the busiest train station in the world (more than 3.5m people passing through it <span style="font-style: italic;">daily</span> last year. Clapham Junction </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">incidentally</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">is the world’s busiest based on the number of trains passing through it). It would be overwhelming to first experience Shinjuku in well-slept sobriety let alone the opposite state. I started to see Ken appearing in random places, in restaurant windows, on buses and billboards, once on a street corner waving a joypad at me. I hastened back to the hostel with an hour left on the clock, convinced he was in fact some kind of spectre, that the seat beside me on the plane had been empty and I would now be haunted for the rest of my trip by this gaming phantom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGDN-2iFII/AAAAAAAAABE/rUP4XGWGS6c/s1600-h/IMG_7903.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359709307780863106" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGDN-2iFII/AAAAAAAAABE/rUP4XGWGS6c/s400/IMG_7903.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">too many people</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Mercifully the receptionist clocked the look in my eyes and let me in early. I stumbled upstairs to my dorm, crawled straight into my capsule without pause and passed out. Two hours later I was awoken by voices murmuring in Japanese and opened my eyes to find myself inside a large coffin. After a few frozen seconds I recalled that I’d checked into a capsule hostel and that this was my room for the next five days. With living-space at a premium in central Tokyo capsules are popular, cheaper accommodation, but are pretty disorientating the first time you wake up in one, and definitely not for the claustrophobic. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGElGmLa0I/AAAAAAAAABM/aOh347VQwOY/s1600-h/img_1334+-+space-hogger+taking+the+piss.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359710804508371778" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmGElGmLa0I/AAAAAAAAABM/aOh347VQwOY/s400/img_1334+-+space-hogger+taking+the+piss.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">A space-hogger taking the piss by dangling his leg out</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12px;">He was reported immediately to management</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">For me, the enclosed cocoons would prove a far better option than standard hostel bunks as you at least had a degree of privacy with the blind pulled. They didn’t prove to be much of a sound dampener though against the constant racket of backpackers coming and going, and as I would painfully find out: dormitories are no place for a light sleeper.<br /><br />I peered out of my pod to survey the 28-capsule dorm, just as a fresh bunch of Europeans boisterously piled in. There was no way I was going to sleep any further in there so, despite my brain crying out for REM, I was forced to bail and hit the streets again until nightfall and conventional bedtime.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">A sci-fi monster</span></span><br /><br />If Shinjuku was surreal by day, once darkness falls it hits a new level of visual and aural pandemonium to which photos can't really do justice: a postmodern world of brilliant neon, animated billboards and pounding loudspeakers, requiring only Star Wars-style mini spaceships whistling around the buildings to complete the effect. ‘Hyperreal’ is a term used to describe central Tokyo; also ‘The Big Japple’. Piccadilly Circus is like an average street corner here – London's Japanese tourists must laugh when they first see it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5xev7RXOH3o/Wh4C6dbllTI/AAAAAAAABl4/WzfQLDSJ6CcuOhTBoqWX7G021_sjU8CWgCLcBGAs/s1600/FB100_2312%2Bed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5xev7RXOH3o/Wh4C6dbllTI/AAAAAAAABl4/WzfQLDSJ6CcuOhTBoqWX7G021_sjU8CWgCLcBGAs/s400/FB100_2312%2Bed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">And like Piccadilly Circus on a wider scale, there is both motor and human traffic everywhere you look but in far greater quantities; masses of humanity sweeping along the main thoroughfares and arterial side streets branching off in all directions. At major pedestrian intersections like Hachiko Square, the crowds coagulate at the crossroads waiting patiently for the green light <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXtOdSgf6Ic&feature=related">then flood out into the square in a 4-way cross-walk</a>. There are 13m people, almost twice London’s entire population, in Tokyo’s core metropolitan area alone, which is the nucleus of the most densely populated urban area in the world, Greater Tokyo (total population 35m). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIXl4HZnxI/AAAAAAAAABk/kmV4UIl9cUw/s1600-h/tokyo-at-night.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359872446010334994" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIXl4HZnxI/AAAAAAAAABk/kmV4UIl9cUw/s400/tokyo-at-night.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIXU-TT_wI/AAAAAAAAABc/YzNMXxSBYoc/s1600-h/FB100_2310.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359872155613134594" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIXU-TT_wI/AAAAAAAAABc/YzNMXxSBYoc/s400/FB100_2310.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIX3ntCCmI/AAAAAAAAABs/yeAjc7t4fFY/s1600-h/59219393.IMG_0225.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359872750842415714" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIX3ntCCmI/AAAAAAAAABs/yeAjc7t4fFY/s400/59219393.IMG_0225.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />The sheer size of the monster only became fully apparent in the stark daylight of the following morning when I went to the top of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, the city’s tallest building at 250m. Stepping into the top floor’s observation deck it hits home that Tokyo is more a vast megalopolis – several cities merged into one – sprawling outwards in an ocean of concrete as far as the eye can see. Whereas capital cities generally have only one centre, here you can see several sprouting upwards in scattered clusters of new skyscrapers. It’s an awesome sight to behold, and a daunting prospect to attempt exploring the whole of it within the time-frame of five days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIZVjTFORI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ZP4irfy2hZo/s1600-h/Tokyo_Metropolitan_Goverment_Building_no1_Tocho_08_7_December_2003.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359874364567533842" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIZVjTFORI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ZP4irfy2hZo/s400/Tokyo_Metropolitan_Goverment_Building_no1_Tocho_08_7_December_2003.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Tokyo Metropolitan Govt Building</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIbAo64h0I/AAAAAAAAACE/3tjElPnmJbY/s1600-h/IMG_0656.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359876204322654018" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIbAo64h0I/AAAAAAAAACE/3tjElPnmJbY/s400/IMG_0656.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">front door</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHFot_eOa74/UeKFWvlcFNI/AAAAAAAAASQ/B3GTo7Jee4g/s1600/FB100_2356.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHFot_eOa74/UeKFWvlcFNI/AAAAAAAAASQ/B3GTo7Jee4g/s400/FB100_2356.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12px;">inside foyer</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B8OZwssV9TM/YWjDFthrvkI/AAAAAAAACiQ/4xtLQHg4RbAPF-wkuRTVzXVrMYLoCevbACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/FB100_2340ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="286" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B8OZwssV9TM/YWjDFthrvkI/AAAAAAAACiQ/4xtLQHg4RbAPF-wkuRTVzXVrMYLoCevbACLcBGAsYHQ/w381-h286/FB100_2340ed.jpg" width="381" /></a></div><br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 12px;">at the top</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIc2YmDNYI/AAAAAAAAACk/BfFaq2HGITU/s1600-h/FB100_2348.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359878227164870018" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIc2YmDNYI/AAAAAAAAACk/BfFaq2HGITU/s400/FB100_2348.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 284px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />But that’s what I had set out to do that very morning. The night before I'd crawled back into my capsule at 8pm and as expected woke up at the ridiculous hour of 4am, fully charged and raring to go while the rest of the hostel and neighbourhood remained in repose and in darkness. One benefit of the jet lag was having the run of the green at the breakfast area and internet stations, congested at all other times, so I could blitz my emails and photo downloads at leisure over some green tea and rice crackers. Then when 7am rolled around I hit the streets with the first throngs of early commuters to recommence my adventures. Thankfully Ken made no further appearances. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Having been warned to avoid the subway during rush hour I spent the whole day just wandering wherever the roads took me following my ascent to the top of the Metropolitan building as soon as it opened at 8am, handily bypassing the queues and crowds that the day progressively attracts. After resolving not to read any guidebooks and just go with the flow, my marathon walk took me away from the built-up high-tech hubs and through glimpses of old Japan in the form of ancient shrines and the imperial gardens of Chiyoda. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Fortuitously</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> one shrine was holding a colourful pageant the day I turned up, which made for some cool snaps: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIepAIPX3I/AAAAAAAAACs/ocI43z_sYQ8/s1600-h/FB100_2371.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359880196282343282" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIepAIPX3I/AAAAAAAAACs/ocI43z_sYQ8/s400/FB100_2371.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIe6sVz37I/AAAAAAAAAC0/_gtVHF16QJw/s1600-h/FB100_2376.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359880500208197554" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIe6sVz37I/AAAAAAAAAC0/_gtVHF16QJw/s400/FB100_2376.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIf5OoFdZI/AAAAAAAAADE/bOKQMReGHtw/s1600-h/FB100_2380.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359881574563542418" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIf5OoFdZI/AAAAAAAAADE/bOKQMReGHtw/s400/FB100_2380.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIgNYVgQ2I/AAAAAAAAADM/9hlLGKDQ8zM/s1600-h/FB100_2398.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359881920767345506" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIgNYVgQ2I/AAAAAAAAADM/9hlLGKDQ8zM/s400/FB100_2398.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 303px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />However the roads always eventually led back to more skyscraper constellations, some even more futuristic than Shinjuku’s, like the lustrous steel edifices of Shiodome and the pioneering Asahi and Fuji HQs. I later learnt that the buildings are all so new and innovatively architectured because most of the older ones were destroyed by the great earthquake of 1923, and any remaining ones finished off by Allied bombs in WWII. It’s doubly impressive to behold how such a gleaming metropolis rose from the ashes of complete destruction within half a century. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIiItzo0FI/AAAAAAAAADU/O_OUz6EEmxw/s1600-h/FB100_2403.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359884039654789202" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIiItzo0FI/AAAAAAAAADU/O_OUz6EEmxw/s400/FB100_2403.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Shiodome skyscraper, looks like a sword</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIifXnQf9I/AAAAAAAAADc/L6JX6xj79zU/s1600-h/800px-Fuji_TV_headquarters_and_Aqua_City_Odaiba_-_2006-05-03_edit.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359884428834275282" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIifXnQf9I/AAAAAAAAADc/L6JX6xj79zU/s400/800px-Fuji_TV_headquarters_and_Aqua_City_Odaiba_-_2006-05-03_edit.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Fuji's futuristic HQ, straight out of a sci-fi flick </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIjfO3SmgI/AAAAAAAAADs/jW-2nZ0Kans/s1600-h/FB100_2436.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359885525997230594" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIjfO3SmgI/AAAAAAAAADs/jW-2nZ0Kans/s400/FB100_2436.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 288px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Asahi Beer HQ, in the shape of a pint, complete with strange giant sculpture</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Quirks and oddities of the Japanese way</span><br /><br />One of the greatest benefits of strolling around a city independently at your own pace is that you observe and absorb more of its social vibe. Pausing to sit and read on a bench or have a coffee at an al-fresco café takes much longer here as the people-watching is such good value. I picked up on many things that are done completely differently.<br /><br />I’ll get the niggling stuff out of the way first. Firstly, during the warm spring afternoons of my visit, I and evidently thousands of office workers wanted to escape the concrete and traffic and retreat into one of the city’s numerous parks for an hour, however here you have to pay to enter them, which often means long queues and waits, killing the spontaneity of ducking into a park for a stroll or lunch break. Ok, it’s only a couple of quid, but the principle is a bit rotten – imagine a high brick wall erected around Regent's Park or Clapham Common so you can’t actually see it from the outside, being forced to line up and pay for that privilege? Fortunately the Imperial Gardens around the Imperial Palace are free for all, but that of course means they’re packed like an unending music festival. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmInvxfEtuI/AAAAAAAAAD0/OKuRRpOUIZ0/s1600-h/FB100_2297.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359890208215316194" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmInvxfEtuI/AAAAAAAAAD0/OKuRRpOUIZ0/s400/FB100_2297.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 294px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">ridiculous park queue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />That was my main beef really. There were other niggles that can annoy you if you let them, for instance as a smoker you’re not allowed to smoke anywhere on the high street – you must stand at designated smoking stations into which scores of people can often be seen cramming, emitting a collective pall of smoke above their heads. Conflictingly though, you can smoke in McDonald's, effectively reducing the place to an ‘enter at your peril’ den of health crimes.<br /><br />There are other inconsistencies with regards to manners and protocol. This is a country where most people's etiquette is impeccable, where maintaining ‘face’ is paramount, the streets are clean, and anything that sullies the outlook like littering, smoking or begging is cracked down upon (I saw a few homeless drunks shambling about but never daring to beg). People here customarily wear surgical-style masks, not because of pollution but because they have a cold or hay fever and don’t want to afflict others with their germs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">However some things considered socially unacceptable in the West are completely permissible in Japan, eg. noisily coughing up whatever’s on your chest. A couple of times, while sitting at a bar or waiting for a bus, a man beside me would clear his throat with the violence of someone trying to eject a hairbrush trapped in his windpipe. No one else in the vicinity batted an eyelid. Meanwhile, during lunch hour in noodle bars, diners slurp down their ramen with the noise and urgency of speed-eating contestants, like their lives depended on not going one second over their lunch breaks. If you close your eyes at the right moment it can sound like a roomful of sinks emptying simultaneously. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIoZ700ZXI/AAAAAAAAAD8/7ZmYl63r_y0/s1600-h/FB100_2299.jpgb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359890932545381746" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIoZ700ZXI/AAAAAAAAAD8/7ZmYl63r_y0/s400/FB100_2299.jpgb.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">patient queuers - spot the hay fever sufferer</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />On a bit of a darker subject, there is something quite creepy about the sheer abundance of pornography on shop shelves devoted to barely legal Japanese schoolgirls, much of which is perused so casually by men old enough to be their dads. It also ties in with the craze of vending machines, which due to sheer consumer demand are everywhere and sell everything, from </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">batteries and umbrellas to</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> eggs and live fish; and yes, knickers – I didn’t encounter any myself but saw a photo of one on a hosteller’s camera (they're actually illegal now). One good thing about the machines is that they don’t charge the excessive mark-up prices you’d expect and are very handy for when the local shops close and you fancy a beer or noodle soup. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIpJcefKnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kIHr52JGU70/s1600-h/beer-1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359891748763937394" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIpJcefKnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/kIHr52JGU70/s400/beer-1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">24-hour beer machine - convenient</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmPOP029lFI/AAAAAAAAAHA/aerAoRopr5s/s1600-h/95658052_4ca133ef22_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360354752783553618" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmPOP029lFI/AAAAAAAAAHA/aerAoRopr5s/s400/95658052_4ca133ef22_o.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 264px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">many restaurants display plastic replicas of their menu in the window - weird but handy if you wanna know exactly what you're getting</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Other behavioural quirks on wide display in Tokyo are the kind of things you see on TV and online so much that they become a cliché, which makes witnessing it first hand all the more significant. Firstly, rush hour trains are truly insane. Stuck as I was in a jet lag cycle of rising at unnaturally early hours meant that for a couple of days I couldn’t avoid it as I needed to get to another part of the city. Londoners may complain about crowded trains but here they stuff you into the carriages so tightly that you can sometimes only move your head and fingers, before prising yourself back onto the platform at your stop gasping for breath.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">It’s the way it has to be in a city of 13m – the trains can’t arrive any faster than they do anywhere else, so the swelling crowds have to be squeezed into every inch of space, with uniformed crammers assigned to the task. I loved the collective passivity of the commuters inured to it all, a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare, which for me was the most memorable aspect of the culture shock.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Another cliché that’s evidently true is that the Japanese photograph everything, in their own country too. Their hard drives at home must creak with the millions of photo files stuffed into them. The bustle triggered by the sight of a large dog being walked was pretty comical, with pedestrians halting to rummage for their phones. I guess the tiny shoebox apartments in which most Tokyoites live precludes them from keeping dogs bigger than a pug, so seeing a Great Dane is akin to spotting a rhino in London.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Safe city, cool people</span></span><br /><br />Tokyo has one of the </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">world's </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">lowest crime rates, so you feel safe wherever you are, even in the sleazier parts. There’s a pervading sense of discipline, no lager louts or druggies hanging about anywhere. The youth are mostly modest and respectful types whose chief preoccupation seems to be their appearance – everyone dresses stylishly, almost too stylishly, with strong Western influences. I was saddened to discover though, as in every capital I later visited, so many youngsters rocking the same drainpipes-with-arse-exposed look. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Another interesting demographical point is that the entire population of Tokyo seems to be 99% Japanese or SE Asian, with only a smattering of caucasians, blacks or hispanics. Yet you don’t see many national flags flying compared with other Western capitals, possibly as if the guilt of its warmongering past has repressed any sense of patriotism. But modern Japan has so much to be proud of </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">–</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> Tokyo the living embodiment of it, the vanguard of technological innovation illuminating a clean and safe urban environment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIsZdeDkVI/AAAAAAAAAEM/MdXvM-jS7M8/s1600-h/FB100_2429.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359895322443354450" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIsZdeDkVI/AAAAAAAAAEM/MdXvM-jS7M8/s400/FB100_2429.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">only one shopper spotted the mystery photographer</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmJCetDwaCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ObNZFklgISY/s1600-h/FB_garish_pachinko.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359919601783171106" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmJCetDwaCI/AAAAAAAAAF0/ObNZFklgISY/s400/FB_garish_pachinko.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">they love their 'Pachinko' slot machines</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIxZuP8TgI/AAAAAAAAAEc/_-7dJq472XU/s1600-h/FB100_2412.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359900824505699842" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIxZuP8TgI/AAAAAAAAAEc/_-7dJq472XU/s400/FB100_2412.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 286px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">Ginza skyline</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />Some visitors complain about expensiveness, but it isn’t that much different from London or Paris, where if you explore beyond the tourist traps you’ll find places that don’t decimate your budget. One thing I did note was that concerts were prohibitively dear, charging to see an Idlewild club gig the price of seeing Muse at Wembley. Booze also one of the pricier commodities, so I didn’t do much drinking, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">conscious also that I was headed for the livelier Bangkok </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">the following week</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">. The only waterholes I visited were hotel and jazz bars where I sat with a whisky affecting sophistication like Bill Murray in Lost in Translation, watching another pianist crooning “fry me to the moon”. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />And on the subject of ‘Engrish’, it was always entertaining chatting to locals who were keen to practice theirs – to be able to speak English at conversational level is seen to be ‘cool’. One hostel dweller from Osaka told me to look out for the "brootiful cherry brossom" around the city, which I did see a lot of, and it was indeed brootiful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI73EV7JCI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PiE3iL1SR-o/s1600-h/FB100_2455.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359912323768853538" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI73EV7JCI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PiE3iL1SR-o/s400/FB100_2455.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">chelly brossom</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI8i5O_YLI/AAAAAAAAAFk/-s4Jets8s-c/s1600-h/FB100_2392.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359913076701225138" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI8i5O_YLI/AAAAAAAAAFk/-s4Jets8s-c/s400/FB100_2392.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 12px;">spot the yawn</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /><br />Couple of textbook examples of Engrish I encountered: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIyLDFkQII/AAAAAAAAAEk/fgTkaYkTlaY/s1600-h/364998805oTwLbL_ph.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359901671912915074" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIyLDFkQII/AAAAAAAAAEk/fgTkaYkTlaY/s400/364998805oTwLbL_ph.jpg" style="display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIycp88izI/AAAAAAAAAEs/JBBeqVkNW8M/s1600-h/335210059_0b1c0256cf.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359901974403517234" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmIycp88izI/AAAAAAAAAEs/JBBeqVkNW8M/s400/335210059_0b1c0256cf.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /><span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />A conclusion</span></span><br /><br />My final couple of days were spent on random pursuits like visiting the hectic squirmfest that is the world’s biggest fish market at Tsukiji, where forklift drivers speed around a hangar-sized warehouse filled with crates of every variety of seafood – some still flapping around in blood, and tentacles dangling menacingly over the sides. I also attended an auction of giant tunas which looked like miniature missiles. That evening I sated my inner gamer nerd at </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Akihabara aka Electric Town, home to </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">the famous 8-Bit Café </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">celebrating the glory days of Sega Master System and Megadrive</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI1IvsIhCI/AAAAAAAAAE0/XtGZSmFqF-M/s1600-h/CIMG0702.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359904930881111074" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI1IvsIhCI/AAAAAAAAAE0/XtGZSmFqF-M/s400/CIMG0702.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI178aRL5I/AAAAAAAAAFE/iHigrWGwq-U/s1600-h/fish.bmp" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359905810469171090" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI178aRL5I/AAAAAAAAAFE/iHigrWGwq-U/s400/fish.bmp" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 271px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI2nKPy2_I/AAAAAAAAAFM/JpF4sZuPEes/s1600-h/akihabara.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359906552917711858" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QNS7K4eWV1g/SmI2nKPy2_I/AAAAAAAAAFM/JpF4sZuPEes/s400/akihabara.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />And so randomly concluded my week in the hyperreal other world of Tokyo. As much as I was awed by what I saw, it was also kind of relieving to leave a city that makes you feel almost insignificant, especially if you’re on your own, a tiny moving part in a giant </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">finely-tuned</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"> machine of a billion smaller components functioning as efficiently as each day before – maybe not so</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia";">efficiently </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">in recent times of recession but it’ll soon hit optimum performance again. And the nature of the beast is that because everything is so densely packed within, it must be meticulously disciplined to prevent malfunction and shutdown. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />It’s an overwhelming experience for the lone traveller with only a week to play with but still a fascinating snapshot of an eccentric culture, and a compelling glimpse into the future, of how megalopolises will all look and function one day. To maximise the experience I’d advise visiting with a partner (as long as they’re ok with crowds and enclosed spaces), allow for a bigger budget, and prepare for a culture shock you won’t be forgetting in a hurry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And whatever you do, don’t take the tube during rush hour. </span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-178098395874675413.post-16764593009609671192009-07-16T22:44:00.000-07:002017-11-09T07:31:46.536-08:00Japan: Tokyo - the flight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;"><br />“Travel and change of scenery impart new vigour to the mind” - Seneca </span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">I was actually feeling pretty far from vigorous as my mate dropped me off at Heathrow Airport and left me standing before the huge Terminal 3 building where, after what seemed like a whole year of constant planning and preparation, my seven-month walkabout would finally begin. The significance of the moment was dulled by the fact that a) I had inevitably not slept much the previous night, consumed with both excitement and anxiety, and knew I wouldn’t sleep at all on the imminent 12-hour night flight; and b) it felt like there was a small building strapped to my back which was seriously warping my spine when I walked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">The rucksack had felt heavy during its first foray onto my shoulders in my flat but I convinced myself I’d get used to it. Now though, lurching unnaturally through the busy terminal, I quickly realised that I wouldn’t make it past the first of ten countries like this, without a square centimetre of room to accumulate anything new.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Having to pack for seven months of life I discovered straight away what would become the most burdensome weight culprits: chargers for a start, infuriating but unavoidable if you want to use your camera, phone and mp3 player beyond the first week. Next, a suit that I’d probably only wear thrice at the most for job interviews. And finally: books, anticipating the abundance of reading time I’d have on transport, beaches and bunk beds. <i>[Postscript: this was unluckily just before the emergence of weight-and-space-saving Kindles.]</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">A fortnight into my travels I shipped home a big box of stuff I was dumb enough to pack in the first place: the suit was the first thing in there, followed by a couple of books I suddenly didn’t like the sound of. For now though, at the airport and for the first two weeks, I would have to shoulder the weight, which only just checked in under the max kg limit. I waved it off gladly as it trundled away on the conveyor. </span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">“There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror” - Orson Welles</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">There is actually a lot of fun to be had on a Virgin Atlantic jumbo to Japan. In fact, the fun had begun at the booze section in the duty-free shop, where someone had had the inspired idea of setting up a whisky bar where you could sample a free half-shot of any whisky on sale in the shop to help you ‘decide’.
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<br />“I actually write for a whisky magazine,” was my opening gambit at the bar to set out my stall. “So I’d love to sample some of these bottles” I added, pointing vaguely at some shelves. The impassive young bartender dutifully complied, pouring out almost a full shot from four different bottles, as good as challenging me to down them all. The challenge was met head-on – each was hastily necked, before I made an exaggerated “ooh, is that the time?” gesture with my watch and hotstepped off to the boarding gate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">So by the time I’d shoe-horned myself into my economy seat on the plane, I was already aglow from the whisky sluice, suddenly ‘up for it’. The same couldn’t be said for the thirty-something expressionless Japanese man in the seat next to me, who had grunted uncomprehendingly when I asked how he was doing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Gonna be a long flight I thought, before it dawned on me the extent of the entertainment options before me. I’d only ever flown one long-haul flight before, 14 years previously, and was unaware of how things had progressed since then, that nowadays major airlines’ seats come with in-seat screen entertainment systems as standard, offering a multitude of recent movies to watch when you want, plus retro video games to thumb-bash your way through. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />When the stewardess offered the first of numerous gratis drinks I felt made up. Granted, an upgrade would’ve been a welcome start to my travels on its longest flight but as it turned out long-haul economy class wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d expected.
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<br />It was a shame that my aforementioned Japanese neighbour didn’t appear quite as contented; every time I glanced at his screen he was scrolling through the same section on flight safety and emergency procedures, while I’d launched into a marathon session of Tetris. Neither of us had any idea about the bizarre ‘rapport’ that would develop between us over the next 12 hours.
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<span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-weight: bold;">Welcome to Japan</span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">It all commenced with the first meal trolley, offering a choice of British or Japanese cuisine. To get into the swing of things I followed my neighbour (I’m gonna call him Ken from now on) in going for the Japanese option, a traditional bento box, though when I opened it I had no idea what any of the contents were nor how to tackle them, so chose to observe and follow Ken’s approach from the corner of my eye.
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<br />After the first two items were dispatched, Ken gives me a sideways glance after noticing I was duplicating his moves. Busted, I was forced to go it alone with the pretence of knowing exactly what I was doing anyway, however became unstuck almost instantly after cleaning my fingers in the fingerbowl, which moments later turned out to be a clear soup – Ken slurped his down noisily with an air of ridicule. Demoralised, I shut the lid on it early and returned to my Tetris.
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<br />The next embarrassing moment occurred a couple of hours later, by when I was quite sozzled and beyond self-guidance. I had stuck on the recent Coen brothers flick ‘Burn After Reading’ and was tickled by a scene halfway through in which (spoiler alert!) Brad Pitt’s character is caught hiding in a bedroom wardrobe owned by George Clooney, who promptly blows Pitt’s brains out with a revolver, splattering the whole wardrobe with gore. What I’d found hilarious was the stupid expression on Pitt’s face just before he’s shot, and rewound it a couple of times to rewatch it. Suddenly I could feel Ken’s stare, and glanced sideways to catch the tail-end of his perplexed expression. Only then did I realise he’d been watching me repeatedly replay a scene of someone getting his head blown off and guffawing to myself. That was the moment I most wished I could speak Japanese, just to explain it was the <span style="font-style: italic;">facial expression</span> I was laughing at, not the murderous act. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Night had well fallen by then and most passengers were reclined and kipping. Hopefully Ken will as well, I hoped. As a seasoned insomniac I can’t sleep on planes, often finding it difficult in a comfy silent bedroom let alone an upright seat with the roar of jet engines in your ears. So I contentedly resigned myself to a night of retro gaming to keep me alert until touchdown. It soon transpired, however, that I wasn’t the only one who can’t sleep on planes. In fact, Ken was the only other passenger on the <span style="font-style: italic;">entire plane</span> who remained awake with me through the night, which I confirmed during periodic strolls around the gangways to relieve cramp.
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<br />It was a surreal situation to be in, with the plane’s entire interior in still darkness except me and Ken’s corner illuminated by our screens and the overhead bulbs. What was cool was that as long as we were awake the same stewardess kept returning to offer drinks, which we both accepted every time. I love the way flight literature warns you to avoid alcohol on flights to prevent dehydration, then sometimes you're plied with as much as you can drink. It was like feeding two dogs – keep offering them biscuits and they’ll keep eating them, full or not. It was also like some kind of private battle, with Ken determined to outdo me in both drinking and sleep deprivation, a game he could never win… </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br />By the time the rising sun shafted natural light onto us I noted we were both looking quite pale and frazzled, yet as the rest of the plane began to stir to prepare for landing, we remained fixated on our screens, silently thumb-bashing, ‘in the zone’. Ken had been playing shoot-em-ups all night, while I’d been working through old-school classics like Pong and Arkanoid. And then, without warning, and only a few minutes before landing, Ken collapsed on me! In one abrupt movement his joypad dropped to the floor as his head fell sideways onto my shoulder, then his upper body followed, forcing me to grab him with both arms before he crumpled into my lap – it took a couple of firm shakes before he roused and realised what had happened.
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<br />“Awwwww yakkatokko yakkatokko!” he apologised earnestly, the first words he’d spoken to me (that’s what it sounded like anyway), doing the bowing and praying-hands thing before brushing some imaginary dust off my shoulder. Then he retrieved his fallen joypad and returned to his game screen, but now looking painfully troubled as if he’d just brought the gravest dishonour onto himself and his entire family, leaving me to muse over exactly what troubled him the most. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";">Was it the fact that after such a length of time his consciousness had chosen now to give up the ghost, with his homeland in sight, and had thus lost this battle of endurance with the Westerner? I recalled from those old Clive James TV shows how much the Japanese love their tests of endurance, and had read how retaining honour and ‘face’ was of great importance. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Or maybe he was just about to defeat the very last boss on his epic space invaders marathon when his brain had finally shut down and scuppered his efforts at the final hurdle. Whatever it was, he had taken it badly, and when we finally disembarked I saw him ahead of me on the gangway solemnly shaking his head as he stepped off the plane.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And so began my visit to Japan, where the surreality of the flight was to segue into an even more <a href="http://propermileage.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/japan-tokyo-city.html" target="_blank">surreal day and week in Tokyo</a>.</span><br />
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Kris Griffithshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00067192315366268497noreply@blogger.com5