Deleted scenes: Year one

It won't have escaped your attention that I'm not a professional photographer. Professionals don't stubbornly and stingily persevere with the same cheap camera long after its LCD display has broken, meaning they're unable to play around with the settings or even see the poorly framed pictures they've taken until they get back to their hotels. I don't owe you fancy pictures.

But sometimes I'm pleased with photos I've taken, as are thieving bastards apparently. Whether it's down to the serendipity of animals striking austere poses, the sunset picking out details in satisfying ways or me managing to pull a face that doesn't look smug, I'll try to find ways to include as many photos as I can that fit whatever agenda I'm going for in the relevant blog post, giving the nicest ones top billing.

For every photo transferred from my camera to my hard drive there are 10 deleted, and not all of these survivors make it to the internet, especially in the early days. When I've dragged old folders down from the proverbial loft to dredge out any unused pictures of Dave in a cave or Dave from a slightly different angle, I kept coming across photos that I forgot I had, which I never shared with the world because I was worried about storage space or irrelevant pictures distracting from the narrative arc of the post. I can take this much too seriously sometimes.

So here's a selection of previously unseen photos, videos and writings from my first year of travelling, after those first few countries I rebelliously tackled without a camera and excluding Thailand and Malaysia too, which were too big and get their own summer specials. It's guaranteed to be entirely free from coherent plotting beyond 'Dave saw some things and aimed his camera at them.' This post could just as well be titled 'Misc 1.'

Hey ma look, it's me!

I was gathering together some photos of me from this blog recently after someone requested them, so I thought I'd share them with you. This is the most self-indulgent post I've ever made, even by this blog's usual Onanistic standards, but this chronological collection could at least be useful for nutrionists interested in charting my weight loss throughout my travels (apparently I got fat before I left Edinburgh and was a shrivelled wreck again by the time I got to Thailand - really? How did I not notice?)

Putting this together, I noticed that I really don't take that many photos of myself any more - like I don't feel the need to get in the frame as evidence that I actually visited a place (unless it seems funny). Either the novelty of having a camera was finally worn off, or I've become less vain over time. Says the guy who just spent a couple of hours compiling a blog post all about himself, consisting entirely of images of himself.

This is just photos of me that you've probably already seen (though some are from slightly different angles - exciting!) It might be me next to a thing, me doing a thing or me wearing a thing, but the subject is still me. Seriously, there are about 50 of them - this is the equivalent of my Facebook tagged images or something. If you're not interested in me, don't read more.

Land of the morning sun

Lake Bratan, Bali

How often do you watch the sun rise?

In a promotional interview for morally questionable canonical goth film The Crow, Brandon Lee muses with eloquence and accidental foreboding about the infrequent experience of watching the full moon rise - a monthly occurrence, but one that most people lack the time, interest or vantage point to see for themselves.

The sunrise is less of a rarity, occurring every single day, but I still doubt there are many people who make a point of waking up early to witness this spectacle, which acts more like a bat signal to binge drinkers that it's probably time to head home and sleep it off until that painfully bright orb goes away again, or at least to head to The Penny Black for a daycap (a reference for Edinburgh-based alcoholics there - you know who you are).

As for the rest of you, how many times do you actually bother to watch the sun come up? If the tedious rotation of the Earth around the sun just doesn't interest you, when there are things like Twitter and The Octonauts demanding your early morning attention, that's fine. But worst are the lazy people who say they 'wish they could' make the time to fit it into their schedules, like waking up an hour earlier in winter is too much of a stretch. These are the same people who've never visited their neighbouring country that's just a couple of hours' travel by ferry, but 'would love to go.' Less platitudes, more action, cretins! This is coming from someone who lived in Britain for 25 years and never visited Ireland, incidentally. But I'd love to go.

Do first impressions count?

Day one in most countries I visit is usually pretty disappointing/frustrating as I'm forced to deal with over-zealous airport security, incompetent bus drivers and sleazy taxi drivers to get to my accommodation, hoping I don't have to share it with pests (bed bugs or English people).

Sometimes I get rained on as well (the fact that you're even reading this anthology blog means the weather here hasn't improved, or I'd have some tedious travel photos to show you instead).

These first days may be quasi-traumatic on occasion, but they're at least useful for setting the bar extremely low so that I'm easily impressed when/if things go right. And sometimes, they give an accurate indication of what I can expect during my time there.

The journey

'No man is an Iland,' wrote the metaphysical, can't-spell-for-toffee poet John Donne.

Taiwan is an island though, and sounds a bit like 'no man' if you're deaf and have a speech impediment and are mad, so this unfortunately required me to break my 'sacred' 'no flights' 'rule' to get in and out of the ROC. A self-imposed principle that I've previously upheld to the letter, only breaking it in the rarest and direst of circumstances as you'll see here and here. Oh, and here. And here.

I'm the Captain Kirk of the East; disregarding sensible precautions where'er I visit and corrupting their women. I also have ace sideburns.

But even when I took flights rather than other, better, greener, more interesting forms of transport, it was always as a last resort - either due to distance, border restrictions or simply a lack of alternatives. But now that I'm back on the mighty Eurasiafrican continent, and country boundaries are mostly political rather than geological, I have the opportunity to travel more authentically, experience the changing landscape and pay ridiculously cheap local prices. Flying is rubbish.

Here are some of the most notable journeys I've made so far.

The Great Museum-Off

Some experienced travellers claim you can't gain a true understanding of the world's myriad peoples by visiting museums, and that only by walking the streets and interacting with the locals will you really be able to appreciate foreign cultures.

But a lot of the time, the locals don't know anything and the streets are too strewn with innuendo to be of any cultural value. That's why sometimes, to truly appreciate a civilisation, you do need to visit a sterile museum and look at endless identical vases behind glass, viewed through the gaps in a Japanese crowd.

Farewell forever, Middle East

…or at least for another nine a half years, or until I lose my passport, and can get a new one without access-limiting Israel stamps. Whichever comes sooner (yeah, like losing my passport isn't inevitable).

Thanks, Israel and Egypt, it's been fun and strange, which for me is the ideal combination.

Well, that about wraps it up for Egypt

Sphinx of Alexandria

My chronologically sound but geographically perplexing month-long journey through Egypt - from the Old Kingdom to the New Kingdom and Late Period - has reached its logical end in Greco-Roman Alexandria, back at the Mediterranean again. Where it might have begun if only Greek ferries weren't so unreliable.

But to subvert expectations (mine mostly), the city's actually pretty good. Take that, predetermined cynicism!

Knowledge is power

Dave W goes to the library

I bloody love libraries and have done since I was about seven, when I rented Alvin Schwartz's In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories every fortnight without fail, despite knowing exactly how 'The Green Ribbon' ended (chilling).

So, naturally I was excited to visit the site of the most famous library in the ancient world, even if this new institution - opened in 2003 - won't contain all the sadly lost, endearingly wrong ancient knowledge that was destroyed all those times the original Library of Alexandria caught fire. Apparently, papyrus isn't fire-proof, however much the street wranglers in Cairo boast of its indestructibility.

Felucca? I only just met 'er

Dave W has a pleasant maritime adventure on an felucca, Aswan

It's always sunny in Philae

The Isle of Philae (in reality, Aglikia) is another UNESCO relocation job, and is completely ace.

I thought my egyusiasm (enthusiasm for all things Ancient Egyptian) was in danger of fading after Abu Simbel, but this beautiful little serene island was the most impressive thing I'd seen since the pyramids.

Nubian nadir

Dave W was tired, unenthused and not too well. He's going to be a barrel of laughs today!

Another Egyptian city, another day trip setting off unhealthily early to pack in the famous local sights. And ones 300km away down the lawless desert road, without a protective convoy in sight, because a bus driver didn't pay the baksheesh. Join me on the high-stakes tourism trail!

Guilty life of Luxory

Okay, I'm technically in Aswan now, not Luxor, but then the pun wouldn't work, would it? If anything, Aswan's even cheaper - check out my budget balcony Nile view, which is identical to the view those snobs in the 4-star hotels on each side of me have paid a hell of a lot more for (just pretend there isn't a busy main road in-between me and the scenery and it's ideal).

I've written before about how pleasantly shocked I was by the steep drop in prices as soon as I crossed the Taba border into Egypt, but heading into the south of the country (confusingly called Upper Egypt), this drop becomes effing vertical. Since arriving here, I've been eating in restaurants every day.

Actual restaurants, where people come to your table and ask what you'd like, as if you're better than them (this type of service still makes me uncomfortable). My hotel restaurant even brings the meals to your room so you can eat them in bed like a normal person!

Luxor with altitude

Dave W at 2,100 feet

My 90-minute balloon ride over Luxor and the West Bank was the single most expensive tourist activity I've done so far, and it still only cost LE 350 (about £39). I only have a rough idea what a similar length flight would cost in the UK and Europe, but it's a lot more than £39 - and the sights wouldn't be so impressive.

Plus, they probably wouldn't throw in the complimentary tacky T-shirt either. Keep up with my photos and you're bound to see it, I'll run out of wearable T-shirts one of these days.

Early bird gets the warm (i.e. hot air)

Travel evidence - Luxor Temple and Karnak

Having a camera is good, it means I don't have to write anything. Check it out.

Travel evidence - Theban Necropolis

Way to deny me from taking photos in your tombs now I've finally bought a camera, Egypt!

That means some of these photos aren't mine, so apologies for their superior, professional quality. I'm sure the transition will be seamless. You'll have to trust that these are things I saw with my real, human eyes - eyes that didn't expect to see a mummified foetus today.

Travel evidence - Giza

Compulsory Sphinx shot

Photos courtesy of (i.e. stolen from) Eduardo. I bought my own camera now. Thanks!

The curse of freedom

I'm taking a flight in a couple of weeks' time. Anyone got any suggestions where to?

I'm not lacking in ideas or decisiveness, it's just a case of narrowing down the options, now I've completed the Mediterranean circuit as far as I can with these Israel passport stamps.

God has been helping me so far, arranging the planet and its peoples so that the countries with the most interesting history magically happen to be next to each other. But now God is cutting the umbilical cord and I'm out on my own (that's right, God is a woman - didn't expect that, did you? And she's black probably. And Chinese and gay).

If it wasn't for these pesky passport stamps (that's the appropriate word to sum up the Israel-Arab conflict) I'd doubtless continue south, east or west across land, deeper into Africa, but all borders are closed to me now that I'm evil by association. So I'll have to take a flight anyway, and that technically means I can go anywhere. God damn it.

Travel haggle

Haggling is fun. What could be more satisfying than having an animated argument with a complete stranger in broken English and getting a discount at the end of it? I literally can't think of anything.

I don't buy souvenirs - I'm not on holiday, this nomad existence is my life now, and I don't want to be burdened by unnecessary items when lugging my lightweight bags around. Anyway, most souvenirs are really, really rubbish.

But as a human being (roughly speaking) with basic requirements such as food, shelter and getting to ride on a camel every once in a while, not getting ripped off is still a part of my daily routine, and it's a lot more entertaining in Africa.

Pyramidiocy

Don't mistake my fascination with screwball conspiracy theorists and other assorted lunatics for some kind of endorsement.

I've wasted many evenings of my life trying in vain to encourage self-styled psychic mediums, reiki experts, Christians, aromatherapists and other proponents of daft woo-woo to at least place their beliefs under an objective spotlight for a few seconds and make sure they're doing what they want with their precious lives.

I eventually gave up and just let them get on with it, when I realised I didn't want to spend my own life getting frustrated at how other people were squandering theirs.