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.'

On the buses

Night buses seemed like the ideal scenario when I started out travelling on a budget - by getting your cross-country journeys out of the way at night time, you could miss out on the boring parts of travel while simultaneously avoiding paying for a night's accommodation, thereby killing two birds with one bus. The perfect crime!

It wasn't until I actually took one and realised it's impossible to sleep when there's no leg room and an inconsiderate DVD player screening realistic rape scenes at inappropriate volume at 1AM that I started to realise the night bus' false economy.

Even after I took on more work and stopped living on such a tight budget, I still fell for the night bus trap occasionally, but with the benefit of experience I made sure each trip was followed by a day with no tourism obligations so I could catch up with afternoon naps. Over time I've got more used to sleeping on buses and can now manage as much as two interrupted hours most of the time. At this rate, I should be capable of falling asleep on any given surface at the drop of a hat when I'm an old man, which fits in well with my retirement plans.

Here's an unreliable breakdown of night buses by country, based on my own experience that's usually with a single firm and may not be representative of countries as a whole. But let's face it, most of them are pretty bad.

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.

Macaques all, folks!

Bereaved macaque

One of the advantages of keeping up this travelling and OCD blogging well beyond most people's attention spans and memory capacities is that I can pass off re-contextualised pictures from older blogs as new material. Like one of those budget-saving episodes of American TV shows where the characters get trapped in a lift and reminisce about their antics back when they had funding.

My own funding situation should soon improve, so I'll be able to hire back the green screen technology, guest actors and CGI artists needed to keep up the sophisticated illusion that I'm travelling all over Asia, when in reality I never left Scotland. It probably would have been cheaper to actually go to these countries and do these things for real, now I think about it. But I can't eat that foreign muck.

Anyway, better get on with fabricating a tenuous segue to introduce these old monkey photos. Hey, do you remember when I was in those other Asian countries where they had macaques roaming around all over the place? What was all that about? I'd love to go back and revisit some of those adven... oh dear, the lift seems to have broken down. Well, we might as well pass the time remembering some of those kerrazy monkeys and their wacky antics. Do you remember... remember... remember... (Overlay warbling sound effect)

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.

Mm, that's nice

After a slightly downbeat post summing up my disappointing experiences in the Philippines, you might wonder what I'm doing out here if I'm intent on not appreciating Asia or enjoying myself.

Sometimes I wonder that too, but then I look back at my amateur, blurry, overcast photos of the ace things I've seen so far, and then check out professional, idealised, Photoshopped images of what's to come, and I feel like I'm not completely wasting my time.

Here are some of my favourite natural sights I've seen in Asia so far. The quality of the photos won't be enough to make you go 'WOW!' or 'oh my god, how does that exist on the same planet that brought us Preston, Lancashire?'

But hopefully they'll be enough to make you go 'mm, that's nice.'

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.

Is that all I get, Indonesia?

Earlier this year, I complained that 30 days wasn't enough time to fully experience Thailand. Even by maximising the daylight hours by taking night buses (and sometimes managing to sleep for as much as 45 minutes per night), I still had to renew my visa just to see a few more places before giving in.

Time for another complaint - 30 days to see Indonesia is even crazier. Especially considering this scattered island nation is one of the largest countries in the world and it takes practically all day to get anywhere.

This probably doesn't matter to the 80% of international visitors who never venture beyond Bali (the lazy bastards), but I would have liked to have spent longer In Donesia.

Big momma's temple

After a month in Indonesia, it's easy to succumb to temple fatigue. Especially after seeing the same mass produced ornamentation everywhere, and stores selling these minarets and things looking pre-worn and artificially aged. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Bali was constructed from fibreglass in 1992, its entire Hindu heritage a cunning marketing ploy.

But I'm glad I saved the Mother Temple until last. After you see this bad mother, you don't ever need to see another temple again. Except maybe that scary one from Indiana Jones with the cool mine cart ride. That would be ace.

Ubud-der believe it

If you can drag yourself away from the monkeys in Ubud, there's plenty more to see around the unspoilt capital of Bali.

That's 'unspoilt' meaning no big shopping malls or KFCs - you can still rely on hawkers trying to force the same five pieces of tourist tat down your throat every time you come across something worth photographing, ensuring you have all you'll ever need to commemorate a right ripping-off time on the Island of the Gods. You can never have too many shit 'Jiggy-Jig' T-shirts.

Twelve monkeys

I haven't finished seeing the sights of Bali yet, but if anything beats the Sacred Monkey Forest in Ubud, I'll eat my sarong.

This place is right up my street. Literally (I'm staying on Monkey Forest Road). I haven't had such convenient macaque access (macaqcess?) since Taiwan, and as that means I'm obviously going to come here every day, this blog could easily turn into an endless gallery of hilarious monkey photos.

But you deserve to see more 'interesting' things than that (i.e. less interesting things), like temples and rice fields, so I'll simply present the top 12 monkeys.

Disclaimer: I am aware that some of these photos contain more than one monkey; that crab-eating macaques aren't technically monkeys; and that I've cheated by including monkey photos in other sections. Are you looking for a fight?

Bedugul? No, the gull and I are just good friends

There's more to enjoy in Bedugul than just low temperatures and pushy strawberry merchants. Look, there are also temples and things.

Freezing my Balis off

When I first travelled south of the equator, I optimistically wrote about looking forward to cooler temperatures - but didn't realise how soon my dream would come true.

Heading up volcanoes in Java before sunrise was an opportunity for frosty titillation, sure, but things sadly got a lot more temperate when the sun put his hat on and came out to play (the sun has to gets his hats specially made, what with them being 870,000 miles in diameter and composed of a magical fabric that doesn't burn at 5,505 °C).

Now I'm back in Bali, an island not exactly renowned for its arctic temperatures. But like the non-conformist hermit that I strive to be, I eschewed the beaches and bikinis of the coast for the nippy highlands of Bedugul. It felt like coming home, if I'd ever lived anywhere so scenic.

Malang and winding road

Where to go next after walking inside a volcano? 

Malang, apparently, to see some poorly preserved Dutch colonial buildings and dilapidated Hindu temples.

What, again?

Into the lungs of hell

Gawping into the halitosis mouth of Bromo felt a little redundant after I visited its bigger brother Ijen the following day and went right down its oesophagus.

Entering a volcano's crater was a predictably amazing experience, and like Yeliu in Taiwan and the mossy forest at Malaysia's Cameron Highlands, the weird and contradictory environment felt like being on an alien world.

An alien world that luckily had almost the same atmospheric composition as Earth, if perhaps a little heavy on the sulphur.

Bromos before homos

Apologies for the borderline homophobic title, but once I spot a rubbish pun it's difficult to resist.

I skipped over to Java and climbed my second volcano today. If you can call it climbing when there are steps up the side that are only slightly perilous.

I woke at an unreasonable hour to enjoy a delightfully dislocating jeep ride, watch the sun rise, freeze to an unpleasant temperature even by my standards, breathe in loads of noxious sulphur and be annoyed by some Koreans who fancied themselves professional photographers. Today was amazing!

Paradise regain'd

I woke up on Day 4 in Bali feeling positive, refreshed and ready to appreciate this place properly.

The stress of the first few days had made me slightly regret choosing a middle-of-nowhere retreat away from the tourist traps of Kuta and all its resident Australian surfer Michelangelos (referring to the annoying Ninja Turtle, not the Renaissance master). But now I knew I'd made the right decision - and was able to start appreciating the landscape, temples and paddy fields of West Bali that I'd previously been too preoccupied to even notice.

These aren't major tourist sights or anything - I'll deal with those when I come back in a few weeks. This place is Nowheresville, and that's why I like it.

Paradise effing lost

It took until Day Four in Bali for me to begin to appreciate this tropical 'paradise.' Prior to this, you could say there were some 'hiccups' that prevented me from enjoying the experience fully. Though perhaps projectile vomiting occurring simultaneously with explosive diarrhoea would be a more fitting analogy (luckily this is only an analogy, and my kecks remain unsoiled).

If you're a fan of British consumer outrage, feel free to read more and learn all about the series of unfortunate events (only some of which were almost definitely completely my fault) that served to sour my first few days in Indonesia.

If you prefer your blogs happy and optimistic, take a look at the nice volcano picture and then sod off. You don't belong here!