tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36528487411876916372024-03-05T13:12:04.283-08:00Bíonn suílach scéalachKieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.comBlogger109125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-26677916026089953032012-07-21T13:03:00.000-07:002012-09-02T13:06:29.143-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>19 - 20 July 2012</b></div>
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<li><b>Rosslare - Tramore: 74km</b></li>
<li><b>Tramore - Cork: 130km</b></li>
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As I cycled home to Cork from Rosslare, spending a night at a campsite in Tramore en route, I saw that while Ireland is far from perfect (I passed several "ghost estates") for me it is still a great place. Helped by it being a sunny day, I thought that cycling along Waterford's "Copper Coast" was as beautiful a route as any I had seen during my trip.<br />
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When I reached my sister's house I met my nine-day old nephew Seán. He was due to be born the day after I was due back, but he beat me to it by arriving ten days early. It was great to meet him and to see that Aileen, John and big sister Nicole were all coping well with the new arrival.<br />
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</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-80415956049959185142012-07-19T12:35:00.000-07:002012-09-02T12:37:28.799-07:00EuroCycle 2012: France<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>6 - 18 July 2012</b></div>
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<li><b>Buzancy - Guignicourt: 83km</b></li>
<li><b>Guignicourt - Pierrefonds: 104km</b></li>
<li><b>Pierrefonds - Hénonville: 100km</b></li>
<li><b>Hénonville - Les Andelys: 61km</b></li>
<li><b>Les Andelys - St-Georges-du-Vievre: 77km</b></li>
<li><b>St-Georges-du-Vievre - Villers-sur-Mer: 54km</b></li>
<li><b>Villers-sur-Mer - Arromanches: 68km</b></li>
<li><b>Arromanches - Grandcamp-Maisy: 58km</b></li>
<li><b>Grandcamp-Maisy - Quinéville: 54km</b></li>
<li><b>Quinéville - Barfleur: 25km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day in Barfleur</b></li>
<li><b>Barfleur - Cherbourg: 30km</b></li>
</ul>
For an area with such a bloody past, I often found north-eastern France to be eerily quiet. As I cycled near to sites of World War One battles, I went through dozens of quiet villages with shuttered windows and shops closed for most of the day. I progressed from the war cemeteries in the north-east<div>
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through the wheat fields north of Paris</div>
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to the coast. There I found many more war memorials as well as pretty seaside towns.</div>
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As I made my way west along the coast, visiting the D-Day beaches, I realised that I was ahead of schedule to make my ferry to Rosslare so I could afford to slow down and relax. And there is no better place to do just that. The last days of my cycling holiday around Europe were spent reading (I was very pleased with my newly-purchased Kindle which was perfect for this trip), eating delicious food, and contemplating the sun setting on my three-year adventure.</div>
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Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-25163106766459706992012-07-07T04:04:00.000-07:002012-09-02T12:13:54.620-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Belgium<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>6 July 2012</b><br />
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My experience of being a cyclist in Belgium, though brief (less than two hours) and unexpected (I realised only the day before that I would pass through its south-eastern corner on my way from Luxembourg to France), was a positive one. Unlike in the other countries, several passing motorists showed their support, admiration and encouragement for me by beeping their car horns and waving their hands at me. This welcome trait would certainly make me want to do more cycling here.<br />
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At least, I think their beeps and waves were meant to encourage...</div>
Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-50686796613892298302012-07-06T04:15:00.000-07:002012-09-02T12:13:00.609-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Luxembourg<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>4 -6 July 2012</b><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Bernkastel-Kues (GER) to Luxembourg City: 123km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day in Luxembourg City
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<li><b>Luxembourg City to Buzancy (FRA): 105km</b></li>
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Of the ten countries I would see on this cycle trip, Luxembourg was the only one that I had not previously visited. But being able to add it to my "Places I've Been" list wasn't the reason I came here. I came to meet my friend Tom, his fiancé Eilish and their newborn baby who was due on 26 June. But instead of a baby, when I arrived on 4 July I found that Eilish was still very much pregnant. So waiting and watching Wimbledon was the order of the day. Thankfully I seemed to be a welcome distraction, and I enjoyed the home comforts which included, thanks to their satellite dish, being able to watch the tennis on BBC and the RTE Nine O'Clock News, so it all worked out well.<br />
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I was impressed with Luxembourg City, and I left it recharged and with a pannier full of clean clothes. And for even happier and more important news, the day I left Eilish and Tom became the proud parents of Kate Ann - congratulations!</div>
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Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-85947433721223813222012-07-05T12:07:00.000-07:002012-09-02T12:10:45.487-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Germany (part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>21 June - 4 July 2012</b><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Cottbus - Bad Liebenwerda: 107km</b></li>
<li><b>Bad Liebenwerda - Leipzig: 106km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day in Leipzig</b></li>
<li><b>Liepzig - Naumberg: 65km</b></li>
<li><b>Naumberg - Erfurt: 77km</b></li>
<li><b>Erfurt - Eiseanach: 75km</b></li>
<li><b>Eiseanach - Bad Hersfeld: 95km</b></li>
<li><b>Bad Hersfeld - Grunberg: 86km</b></li>
<li><b>Grunberg - Runkel: 105km</b></li>
<li><b>Runkel - Limberg: 11km</b></li>
<li><b>Limberg - Burgen: 107km</b></li>
<li><b>Burgen - Bernkastel-Kues: 106km</b></li>
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An abundance of cycling routes, bakeries, and historic towns made for a surprisingly good two weeks cycling from east to west across Germany. I say "surprisingly good" because, well, I was surprised at how good Germany is to visit. Highlights for me included a night out in Leipzig (a cool city), the Cherry Festival in Naumberg (where I didn't see any cherries but instead enjoyed a variety of live music, beer and food), and cycling alongside the Mosel River (where a path sandwiched between the river and vineyards connected a string of pretty towns).</div>
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Indeed I found Germany to be full of attractive and historic towns and cities. I was continually arriving into impressive town squares, passing medieval-looking buildings on cobblestone streets and looking up at castles.<br />
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At various times in Germany I followed cycle route signs labelled with numbers, letters or a range of symbols, including once what I think was a cartoon of a cycling radish. Taking cycle routes certainly has advantages in terms of safety and scenery. For instance, by taking the "Iron Curtain Trail" I cycled along quiet country roads that brought me to historic sites.</div>
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But scenic routes tend to be longer than the main, more direct roads. So I was often faced with a choice: take the shorter but busier and less interesting road or the longer but safer and more scenic route. I generally chose the latter, especially at the start of the day, but when I felt the need to clock up some kilometres I would switch to the former.<br />
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Speaking of clocking up kilometers, I cycled over 100 kilometres on five days in Germany. I hadn't been sure if I wanted or was able to get all the way from Poland to the ferry in France just by cycling. After crossing Germany I happily realised that I would be able to reach Cherbourg in time just by pedal power.</div>
Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-14060176886958145812012-06-22T09:23:00.000-07:002012-09-02T09:26:23.516-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Poland (part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>19 - 21 June 2012</b><br />
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<li><b>Poznan - Wolsztyn: 92km</b></li>
<li><b>Wolsztyn - Zielona Gora: 65km</b></li>
<li><b>Zielona Gora - Cottbus (GER): 112km</b></li>
</ul>
The morning after Ireland's final match in Euro 2012, I took down my tent, loaded up my bike and started my journey home. As fun as the preceding twelve days had been, I was sort of glad that the party was over. It had been hectic and unhealthy, so I was happy to get back on my bike and to head off on my own into the Polish countryside.<br />
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The previous day I had bought a map of Germany. Its eastern and western margins contained Poznan and Luxembourg respectively, so I drew a line between the two and my plan was to stay as close to that line as possible.</div>
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After meeting many young Poles in the big cities of Poznan and Gdansk who were helpful, friendly and good English speakers, it was interesting for me to be back in rural Poland. On quiet country roads and in villages I often came across older people who looked at me with surprise but kept their distance. People were helpful if I asked directions but, unlike in other countries, they generally wouldn't approach me even when I was stopped at a junction studying my map. I can only guess that their communist past taught people not to ask questions or get involved with strangers.</div>
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I enjoyed my peaceful last couple of days in Poland, especially relaxing by the lake in Wolsztyn watching the sunset. Three weeks after cycling off the ferry from Sweden, I left Poland by cycling into Germany. It had been a great, and very varied, three weeks.</div>
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Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-4579514885797102252012-06-21T09:03:00.000-07:002012-09-02T09:07:21.753-07:00Euro2012: Poland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Poznan, Gdansk, Poznan; POLAND: 7 - 19 June 2012</b><br />
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"What? You've cycled here to Poland for Euro 2012? Wow, you must be a big football fan?"<br />
<br />
"Well, no not really."<br />
<br />
"Oh, so then you are big into cycling?<br />
<br />
"Well, no. I've never done a big cycle trip before and I only bought this bike a few days before starting out."<br />
<br />
"Okay ... Are you mad?!"<br />
<br />
Apart from repeatedly having the above conversation, my time in Poland during Euro 2012 was mainly spent socialising and singing; and not just Irish football songs ("Stand Up for the Boys in Green", "We all dream of a team of Gary Breens", etc etc etc.) but Polish songs too. That Irish fans used to sing "Polska Biało-Czerwoni / Poland, the White and Red" was just one of the reasons why most of the locals seemed so enamored with us. Irish-Polish relations were also helped by the fact that the Irish really are great fans. The centers of Poznan and Gdansk/Sopot were constantly packed with good-natured revellers in the days building up to Ireland's matches. It was incredible.<br />
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I arrived in Poland without match tickets or booked accommodation, but it all worked out. I found space at campsites, which were good craic, although I felt sorry for the small number of non-Irish campers due to the late night sessions and because every morning Irish fans were to be found all over the place in varying degrees of health.<br />
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It seemed that not many Irish fans came to Poland with spare tickets, so unfortunately I had to turn to touts. Whilst I wasn't prepared to pay the €200 - €250 asking price for the Ireland v. Spain match (which I watched on the big screen in the packed Fanzone), I paid €100 and €75 for a ticket to the games against Croatia and Italy respectively (face value for both was €70). Given the amazing atmosphere in the lead-up, especially for the opening game against Croatia, I was delighted to get a ticket.<br />
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In the stadium comedian Karl Spain was part of the pre-match build-up, which included a surprisingly impressive "mini opening ceremony" before each game.<br />
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Unfortunately, while all else was perfect, Ireland's performances and results were poor. Indeed, apart from the fact that Ireland lost all three of its matches, everything about being in Poland during Euro 2012 was great; from the friendly Polish people and their rocking cities to being proudly part of that amazing spectacle that is Irish fans abroad. And I even got to see up-close Ireland's President Michael D. Higgins.<br />
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So even though I'm not a big soccer fan, being at Euro 2012 was a great experience and I'm delighted that I had the opportunity to be there.</div>
Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-45613238480143925482012-06-08T03:45:00.000-07:002012-08-23T07:46:24.904-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Poland (part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>1 - 7 June 2012</b></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Gdynia to Gdansk via Sopot: 47km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day Gdansk</b></li>
<li><b>Gdansk to Malbork: 67km</b></li>
<li><b>Malbork to Grudziadz: 82km</b></li>
<li><b>Grudziadz to Toruń via Chelmo: 85km</b></li>
<li><b>Toruń to Trzemeszno: 133km</b></li>
<li><b>Trzemeszno to Poznań via Gniezno: 81km</b></li>
</ul>
Cyclists are few and far between in Poland. This was especially noticeable for me as I had spent the previous two weeks in the cycling meccas of Denmark and Sweden. The locals in Poland who do cycle use mountains bikes - a wise choice given the quality of some of the roads and cycle paths. I quickly realised that main roads were to be avoided at all cost. So I spent the five days cycling from Gdansk to Poznań on back roads in the countryside, which was an enjoyable experience. My guidebook tells me that 52 percent of Polish territory is agricultural, with almost 30 percent being forested. That pretty much tallies with what I found.<br />
<br />
In general, taking the lesser-travelled roads, where I spotted several deer, a couple of eagles, and dozens of storks perched on their huge nests, worked out well. However, one road I took, which started off as a nice quiet country road, soon turned into a sand track suited more to tanks than to heavily-laden bicycles.<br />
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When signs warning of unexploded missiles appeared, I realised why it was such a quiet route.<br />
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But I figured it was safe when I saw deer grazing, so I continued and safely reached the end. There I surprised a soldier posted at a barrier to stop vehicles entering (nothing had been placed where I had joined the road).<br />
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It wasn't all just the rural side of Poland that I saw. I started on the Baltic coast with the Tri-City of Gdynia, Sopot and Gdansk. The latter has held a fascination for me ever since secondary school when I first learned about the League of Nations-controlled Free City of Danzig, as Gdansk was known between the World Wars. It didn't disappoint and I'm happy to go back there for Ireland's second Euro 2012 match.<br />
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My journey south to Poznań (where Ireland play their first and third matches) was all about castles, churches and cobblestones, with the highlights being Malbork and Toruń.<br />
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I happily spent nearly three hours in Malbork Castle and I camped within view of the impressive building (note how my bike doubles as a handy place to dry my hand-washed clothes).<br />
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And I had an afternoon and evening in the attractive walled town of
Toruń, where I enjoyed the local speciality of gingerbread (where better to eat some gingerbread made in the likeness of Copernicus than in front of a statue to the great Pole himself).<br />
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After five enjoyable days, during which I saw some last minute building and flower-planting for the upcoming European Championship and I discovered that in Poland cobblestones (the nemesis of the cycle tourer) are not just confined to the centres of old towns but can appear on country roads too, I rolled into Poznań on the eve of Euro 2012. That day happened to be a public holiday for Corpus Christi, so I came across multiple processions and streets covered in flower petals. After spending a lot of time recently in predominately non-Christian countries (India, Nepal, Turkey), it was interesting to be travelling in such a traditionally Catholic country.<br />
<br />
So having successfully completed the first part of my cycle trip, it was now time for a change; no more cycling for a couple of weeks, and instead of the early-to-bed and early-to-rise routine of a solo cycling tourer, I was about to be one of thousands of Irish football supporters in Poland to support our team and have a good time.</div>
Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-59263118619761746072012-06-01T04:18:00.000-07:002012-08-11T04:21:58.154-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Sweden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>23 - 31 May 2012</b><br />
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</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Ferry from Helsingor (DK) to Helsingborg </b></li>
<li><b>Two days cycling around Helsingborg: 46km</b></li>
<li><b>Helsingborg to Lomma via Lund: 77km</b></li>
<li><b>Lomma to Malmo: 15km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day in Malmo</b></li>
<li><b>Malmo to Borrby: 90km</b></li>
<li><b>Borrby to Ahus: 87km</b></li>
<li><b>Ahus to Ronneby: 84km</b></li>
<li><b>Ronneby to Karlskrona: 80km</b></li>
</ul>
Having made it to my first two targets (wedding in Yorkshire and marathon in Copenhagen), I cycled off the Helsingor - Helsingborg ferry into Sweden without a tight deadline ahead of me. That meant that I could spend time properly seeing a couple of places, so I enjoyed two full days in both Helsingborg and Malmo. That made me feel like a backpacker again. But following a fun weekend in Malmo, where I joined the locals in celebrating Sweden's victory in the Eurovision Song Contest, my style of travel went back to that which comes with cycle-touring, i.e. arriving at my destination in the afternoon or evening and leaving again the next morning. By now, having clocked up my first 1,000km on the bike, I had learned that cycle-touring is more about the journey than the destination. And I was happy with my journey in southern Sweden, where I saw the ancient,<br />
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the modern, </div>
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and lots in between.</div>
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By the time I reached Sweden, I had figured out a routine that suited me. In terms of food, that meant stocking up in supermarkets for breakfast, lunch and snacks. During the day I would eat a lot, usually stopping for lunch in scenic locations. </div>
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Then I'd have dinner in a restaurant. This meant that I didn't have to carry cooking equipment and I got to try local food, which to me is an enjoyable and important part of travel. After all the exercise I tended to go to bed early and sleep very well. For the most part I slept in my tent but every few days, usually if I was in a large city, I'd stay in a hostel or cheap guest-house.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
I was liking the life that comes with cycle-touring, i.e. eating as much food as I wanted while staying healthy and sleeping well. If only more people knew that they could have such a life, then I'm sure there would be scores of Irish people cycling to Poland too!</div>
</div>
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</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-19746793074460626382012-05-24T04:42:00.000-07:002012-08-10T05:00:49.680-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Denmark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>15 - 23 May 2012</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Flensburg (GER) to Faaborg: 85km </b></li>
<li><b>Faaborg to Slagelse: 107km </b></li>
<li><b>Slagelse to Roskilde: 90km </b></li>
<li><b>Roskilde to Copenhagen: 53km </b></li>
<li><b>3 rest days in Copenhagen </b></li>
<li><b>Copenhagen to Helsingor: 46km</b> </li>
</ul>
After crossing from Germany to Denmark by cycling over a simply bridge,<br />
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I soon found that both prices and the level of English spoken increased. But even though it can be expensive, Denmark is great for cycling. While the beauty of the coastal routes that I took was dulled by poor weather for the first few days, I enjoyed some pleasant cycling that linked interesting historical sites, including the decisive battle site in the 1864 Second Schleswig War, Roskilde's cathedral and "Hamlet's Castle" in Helsingor.<br />
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After a bit of island-hopping, I made it to sunny Copenhagen on time to be part of the support crew for my marathon-runing friends. On a very hot day, Sinéad, Gavin and Deborah successfully completed the 42.2km run and received their well-earned medals.<br />
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It was my first time at a marathon and I really enjoyed the whole experience. And after running across the city centre a few times to catch a glimpse of the runners at several points along the course, I felt that I too deserved the celebratory drinks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6vZuzwkIv5TH7XvOybgIW3_vKxB2qu5-mPHHtkt4O_aCBgCrruhUemGnuJLb_9CJiFvDifAqAIwRD2iesqRpb5v5aidGJ9YGfJ3EVtaKlmtFinTGzIRwW_01OJncGdkKtAF_vU_32uAd/s1600/Mara2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6vZuzwkIv5TH7XvOybgIW3_vKxB2qu5-mPHHtkt4O_aCBgCrruhUemGnuJLb_9CJiFvDifAqAIwRD2iesqRpb5v5aidGJ9YGfJ3EVtaKlmtFinTGzIRwW_01OJncGdkKtAF_vU_32uAd/s320/Mara2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The amazing atmosphere in the city on the day of the marathon was just one of the factors that made me really like Copenhagen. It is a great city, and probably the best city in the world for cyclists.</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-75165955705466829222012-05-16T14:03:00.000-07:002012-08-07T04:20:28.904-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Germany (part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>11 - 15 May 2012</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Nijmegen (NL) to Bocholt: 77km</b></li>
<li><b>Bocholt to Münster: 100km</b></li>
<li><b>Rest day in <b>Münster, then</b> train to Neumünster</b></li>
<li><b>Neumünster to Nortorf: 16km</b> </li>
</ul>
Instead of large cities and speeding autobahns, as a cyclist my time in Germany was spent in cobblestoned towns and on scenic cycle paths.</span><br />
</div>
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And with an improvement in the weather, it was time to use my tent for the first time. My tent is super lightweight, i.e. very small. While some people describe such one-man tents as being like a coffin, I found it perfect for my needs.</div>
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To ensure that I reached Copenhagen on time to support friends running the marathon, after three days in Germany I decided to take a train north to near the Danish border. This gave me more time in Denmark and less in Germany. As I plan to cycle through Germany on the way home from Poland, I was happy with this decision.</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-65686765740227475222012-05-12T03:41:00.000-07:002012-08-23T07:56:49.803-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Holland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>8 - 11 May</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Port of Rotterdam to Rotterdam: 35km (train from Rotterdam to Breda)</b></li>
<li><b>Breda to 's-Hertogenbosch: 55km</b></li>
<li><b>'s-Hertogenbosch to Nijmegen: 49km</b></li>
</ul>
</div>
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My route through south Holland was dictated by where my Dutch friends live. So I spent nights in three small cities: Breda, 's-Hertogenbosch (or just Den Bosch to us in the know), and Nijmegen. All were nicely old and very European. The more I've seen of the rest of the world, the more I've learnt to appreciate Europe. It was good to be back.<br />
<br />
And it was very good too to catch up with Milou, Eward, Inge, Roel and Chantal, to try their favourite Dutch foods, and to get my first experience of being a cyclist in a very cycling-friendly country. Not only does Holland have bike lanes everywhere and motorists who are often cyclists themselves, but it has amazing facilities too, like 24-hour guarded garages where you can lock your bike.<br />
<br />
Such facilities are especially important because together with the high number of bikes in Holland comes a high rate of bicycle theft. A young guy cycled alongside me for 20 minutes one day. We chatted about the usual topics that you talk about when you meet someone from Holland: football (he watched the 2010 World Cup Final in prison); drugs (although he was cycling to his friend's house to smoke a joint, he opposed the recent change in the law that stops non-Dutch residents from smoking in coffee shops because now instead he and his friends sell drugs to foreigners on the streets); and cycling (he casually told me that he had just stolen the bike he was cycling). Even though I stated my disapproval of the theft, we remained on friendly terms. Indeed, he cycled for five minutes past this destination to help me find the bike path. Nice to know that even drug-dealing bicycle thieves have a good side.<br />
<br />
Of course, a major attraction to cycling in Holland is that it is flat. I certainly appreciated not having to slowly slog up steep hills. However, without uphill climbs you can't have downhill free-wheeling, but maybe that is getting a bit too philosophically deep for this simple travel blog.</div>
</div>
Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-26800095774798813402012-05-08T03:28:00.000-07:002012-07-25T03:30:51.529-07:00EuroCycle 2012: England<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>2 - 7 May 2012</b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Chester to Stockport: 74km</b></li>
<li><b>Stockport to Barnsley: 50km (train from Barnsley to Leeds)</b></li>
<li><b>Leeds to Knaresborough: 30km</b></li>
<li><b>Knaresborough to York: 24km</b></li>
<li><b>York to Hull: 82km</b></li>
</ul>
My primary objective in England was to get to North Yorkshire in time to attend the wedding of my friend Anthony from Cork and his English bride Angela. I quite liked the idea of cycling to a wedding, especially as I had friends (Keith and Ben in Stockport, James in Leeds) with whom I could stay along the way. It was nice to catch up with them and to see more of the country. My previous visits to England had all been weekend breaks in its larger cities, so I was happy to cycle along part of the Trans Pennine Trail and to visit the cool cities of Chester and York (I was a lot less enamoured with Stockport and Barnsley!).<br />
<br />
I got to the wedding venue, the beautiful and very fancy Allerton Castle, with an hour to spare. But the snooty butler was less than impressed with my appearance - I think it was the first time someone had turned up there for a wedding wearing shorts and flip-flops. Before I got kicked out I found Anthony's brother Karl who had brought my suit and shoes over in his car from Dublin and after a quick change in the bathroom I was more in keeping with the location and the occasion. <span style="background-color: white;">It was an enjoyable day and I'm very glad that I was able to be there - congratulations Angela and Anthony!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">The next day, in quite a contrast to the newlyweds who left for their flight to </span><span style="background-color: white;">Mauritius</span><span style="background-color: white;">, I got back on my bike aiming for Hull to catch my ferry. To each his own...</span></div>
</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-33191448228845765532012-05-03T04:09:00.000-07:002012-07-25T03:31:58.464-07:00EuroCycle 2012: Wales<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>1 -2 May 2012 </b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b style="background-color: white;">Drumcondra to Bangor: 52km (ferry from Dublin Port to Holyhead) </b></li>
<li><b style="background-color: white;">Bangor to Prestatyn: 78km (train from Prestatyn to Chester)</b></li>
</ul>
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The start of my summer cycling adventure wasn't how I imagined it would be.<br />
<br />
Firstly, it was raining; I had only pictured sunny cycling with daily ice-cream stops.<br />
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Secondly, my first destination was Holyhead in Wales. That hadn't been the plan. My intended route had been to start by getting the Dublin - Liverpool ferry. Starting in Liverpool rather than Holyhead would have meant that I could reach Angela and Anthony's wedding in North Yorkshire on time just by cycling. However I discovered that foot passengers are no longer accepted on that ferry route. Is this because of previous unruly behaviour by scangers and scousers?<br />
<br />
Whatever the reason, it meant that I would have to rely on some forms of transport other than just my bike in order to reach the wedding on time. Once I had accepted that, the pressure was off. Cycling whenever possible and being happy to use public transport when necessary became my <i>modus operandi</i>. I think that was a good plan, at least for the start when I had a few targets to meet, considering the fact that I had never done a big cycle trip like this before. Sure I only bought the <a href="http://www.ridgeback.co.uk/bike/voyage">bicycle</a> a few days before I heading off, and I needed the helpful guys at <a href="http://www.vccycles.com/">Victoria Cross Cycles</a> (where I got my first bike at the age of 7) to teach me the basics of bike maintenance (i.e. how to change a tyre).<br />
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After a disheartening cold and rainy day in North Wales to begin with, day two brought good weather, a nice cycle path<br />
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and some scenic stops, like the quaint town of Colwyn Bay (which I liked even if it is aimed at tourists twice my age).<br />
<br />
So I was on my way. I had a lot to get used to, like remembering before stopping that my shoes are clicked in to my pedals and being comfortable with leaving all my stuff in easy-to-open panniers on my bike when I needed to leave it unattended. While Poland seemed a long way off, I was happy to have started this last big trip of my career break.</div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-47397453039412089832012-05-02T12:36:00.000-07:002012-05-27T12:50:25.444-07:00A Hectic Homecoming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>Dublin, Cork, Tipperary, IRELAND: 19 April - 1 May 2012 </b><br />
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My trip back to Ireland was brief and busy. My 12 days, which I spent between Dublin, Cork and Tipperary, flew by too fast. But sure come August I´ll be back with plenty of time to catch up properly with everyone. <br />
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Apart from seeing my family, including my nephews Tom and Christopher who both have started walking and talking since last I saw them, my main reason for this visit was to be groomsman at the wedding of my friends Ciaran and Martina. I spent three very enjoyable days in Tipperary where I stayed in the Dundrum House Hotel, which was a huge step up in comparison with other places where I´ve stayed in 2012! It was a great weekend where I caught up with a big gang of friends and got to experience some classic rural Tipp moments.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cE2jCXi_takg-pQN5ECddmIDLwsQjIRmN8-khkcfflCoIykq4bDPy5ftOM3Ly7_WZMRj527oJMXD2jz7Aj-h90EepD4dqiD5Mqj1E2OYU5dkvtDJb40GAfcU9i0zLENqb0h8fV3muL1E/s1600/IMG_4319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cE2jCXi_takg-pQN5ECddmIDLwsQjIRmN8-khkcfflCoIykq4bDPy5ftOM3Ly7_WZMRj527oJMXD2jz7Aj-h90EepD4dqiD5Mqj1E2OYU5dkvtDJb40GAfcU9i0zLENqb0h8fV3muL1E/s400/IMG_4319.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The wedding day itself was perfect, with the bride and groom, and indeed the Glen of Aherlow, all looking very well. Congratulations Martina and Ciaran! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilChoxLvz0W62fNkvTtUuax8U25EImgv5SlZpShj2pSQT9BKMmm-z9sENRI1yHwE42rJq2ETTs4dvlYN4wGUgApAwXO-qLL4Xrgj3cRGYIuk0EDehMLyDitH3xh2axN9VTl6W3MY33UkIC/s1600/IMG_4329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilChoxLvz0W62fNkvTtUuax8U25EImgv5SlZpShj2pSQT9BKMmm-z9sENRI1yHwE42rJq2ETTs4dvlYN4wGUgApAwXO-qLL4Xrgj3cRGYIuk0EDehMLyDitH3xh2axN9VTl6W3MY33UkIC/s400/IMG_4329.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-47577269776941326452012-04-22T09:14:00.000-07:002012-04-22T09:14:53.157-07:00Ending on a High<b>Fethiye, Faralya, Kabak, Göreme, Istanbul, TURKEY: 9 - 19 April 2012</b>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7X9nj_BQk24Klt6ekdnwavCyaK2YRBcCJiGthpMD3vjpc1HlHesUH8HYMFGqyf1_Kayz5Zkmq8jiPweQLC4j1oHSGqhhIC24vhpVhOP_KvyYEtsJTysAFMvgpwJpgy8eaaoiuWy5HJvi/s1600/IMG_4291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY7X9nj_BQk24Klt6ekdnwavCyaK2YRBcCJiGthpMD3vjpc1HlHesUH8HYMFGqyf1_Kayz5Zkmq8jiPweQLC4j1oHSGqhhIC24vhpVhOP_KvyYEtsJTysAFMvgpwJpgy8eaaoiuWy5HJvi/s400/IMG_4291.JPG" /></a>
From my base in Fethiye, where the sunny yacht-filled marina is overlooked by snow-capped mountains, I explored part of Turkey's south-west coast. I started with a half-day walk to see the eerie village of Kayaköy, which was abandoned by Greeks during the 1920s population exchange between the two countries.
I then walked the first two days of the 500km long Lycian Way. It was a nice walk, with friendly places to stay that had delicious food and funky cabins.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6z9TSkcIkDifovmkuQa1Z4oS7uqfxB5LXwG6FIQ_m1J9SXcHQMXDGIjAwQGTIbxRsCXd1AY1tK0g4MxSrCEMuNTcWiWA_aFR_cxIVlZ0RIEgHwRyovteATRbAMV06XNm9J-latLBRddQU/s1600/IMG_4228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6z9TSkcIkDifovmkuQa1Z4oS7uqfxB5LXwG6FIQ_m1J9SXcHQMXDGIjAwQGTIbxRsCXd1AY1tK0g4MxSrCEMuNTcWiWA_aFR_cxIVlZ0RIEgHwRyovteATRbAMV06XNm9J-latLBRddQU/s400/IMG_4228.JPG" /></a>Even with the stunning coastal views on the track,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxXJJne_c9ZUrt_VHQ8bFNUXXQoPUEin91m6OlElssyCj0r0qvJ3lCSqroWJ0c2EZvul4XxnR1lxfMJi4VTbvI1o1m9fqLwqZBplWbexhGXM4nYNmoBigJdfdC3r3vhrvWhegWk9u65xn/s1600/IMG_4208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxXJJne_c9ZUrt_VHQ8bFNUXXQoPUEin91m6OlElssyCj0r0qvJ3lCSqroWJ0c2EZvul4XxnR1lxfMJi4VTbvI1o1m9fqLwqZBplWbexhGXM4nYNmoBigJdfdC3r3vhrvWhegWk9u65xn/s400/IMG_4208.JPG" /></a>I was happy with my decision to spend my third day relaxing on Kabak Beach rather than continuing to walk.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvN_JeUUMpyw8gMJ-5Oqe6Hxb-md-Qpyun6fdZR8YLm6dIQJ6t8ulzkr6BsquZbxCyfY4371SS5a-UWvYPUpXgAQi13Y-h-8MPLH_QWiy-XqMCFQnOrpgpzOexerL5AgZtrgAmmM48OstF/s1600/IMG_4227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvN_JeUUMpyw8gMJ-5Oqe6Hxb-md-Qpyun6fdZR8YLm6dIQJ6t8ulzkr6BsquZbxCyfY4371SS5a-UWvYPUpXgAQi13Y-h-8MPLH_QWiy-XqMCFQnOrpgpzOexerL5AgZtrgAmmM48OstF/s400/IMG_4227.JPG" /></a>
From the coast, which in places is ruined by beach-and-beer package holiday-makers, I took an overnight bus inland to Cappadocia where, uniquely, having lots of tourists actually enhances a visit here. If you do a hot air balloon ride, that is. After spending two enjoyable days walking around the valleys surrounding Göreme, visiting churches inside rocks, and going down into underground towns, on my last morning I took to the air for my first time in a hot air balloon. The views were out of this world. The rock formations are truly incredible and seeing them from above, in a sky filled with hot air balloons, was great way to end my time in Turkey.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkMJjn4KEU2ZgxkB8PCEjCi0Mh-bV9_Oy4QfYi_4C9qW0O49Pc0rnFLgyOruMHVzPeN_xh7Upoqh9pJWCq0F-eWl9sraje2FkiYl1RveZlpgFrOhmP7N0CHQ_rHOLpFp7kW7Okg1uekoS/s1600/IMG_4301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMkMJjn4KEU2ZgxkB8PCEjCi0Mh-bV9_Oy4QfYi_4C9qW0O49Pc0rnFLgyOruMHVzPeN_xh7Upoqh9pJWCq0F-eWl9sraje2FkiYl1RveZlpgFrOhmP7N0CHQ_rHOLpFp7kW7Okg1uekoS/s400/IMG_4301.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZtOR_eUFvmgXBoMFP7X4ysKRKznKd0_0HvJcY30sE3vjafqeJ3cjLzG4YlTcRLST3W92SPJnI4f2Lc7lDz_4NcsUVad2Xfna5NTGkG6x7RW46V-vKjVZPwU5DGSExYV_1vxdEmve7C8e/s1600/IMG_4311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZtOR_eUFvmgXBoMFP7X4ysKRKznKd0_0HvJcY30sE3vjafqeJ3cjLzG4YlTcRLST3W92SPJnI4f2Lc7lDz_4NcsUVad2Xfna5NTGkG6x7RW46V-vKjVZPwU5DGSExYV_1vxdEmve7C8e/s400/IMG_4311.JPG" /></a>
Indeed, my three weeks in Turkey, a country full of very friendly, helpful people, where tea is in constant supply and turtles pop up where you least expect them, were a nice end to the fifteen months that I've spent away from Ireland during this stint of my travels.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-35977417618553983052012-04-10T04:15:00.000-07:002012-04-22T04:17:14.619-07:00A Country for Old Men<span style="font-weight:bold;">Istanbul, Çanakkale, Bozcaada, Izmir, Selçuk, Pamukkale, TURKEY: 29 March - 9 April 2012</span><br /><br />San Francisco, Lima, Sydney and now Istanbul - those are the places during my trip where I have met my friend Ciarán to begin a stint of travelling together. And of those cities, indeed out of all the cities that I've visited, Istanbul compares very favourably.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvp458p016VuRXfJCiV6cEjOhbIitzJeiME2J7cwyjH0lWkaQHpE7XnyCggChF3JFc1RVqx5laKAYw6FscE-hLnub178742NOX3TEnYq1gykyOsdTTuYNXKSvDUiu4esL-vxcehILBvSN/s1600/IMG_4051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="224" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvp458p016VuRXfJCiV6cEjOhbIitzJeiME2J7cwyjH0lWkaQHpE7XnyCggChF3JFc1RVqx5laKAYw6FscE-hLnub178742NOX3TEnYq1gykyOsdTTuYNXKSvDUiu4esL-vxcehILBvSN/s400/IMG_4051.JPG" /></a></div>Its an amazing place, and having only spent three days there I feel that I barely scratched the surface.<br /><br />In Istanbul I went to a barber for a shave. For just a couple of euro I got the full works, which unexpectedly included an eyebrow massage and having some of my hair burnt off with a lighter. Getting such a shave is an enjoyable and cheap experience that, unlike for us in Ireland, is common for men in Turkey. It seems to me that men here have it good. Everywhere we went we saw groups of men sitting around, drinking tea, chatting and playing cards or games like backgammon for hours during the day as well as the evenings. This was most evident on the small island of Bozcaada.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KKKeqkAINxHYcFSyYdrMZEAfmIYWNzWeDwpXiCnqklRcPnxTAQEnFODeoJmdVOoRJ0iHivkXYZmiOayftY4ih47SUN3aZs9xf2AOIVpIJMwYjBTtcMEhgKqZJ1DzOWpUyxGLwf4dXk8v/s1600/IMG_4116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KKKeqkAINxHYcFSyYdrMZEAfmIYWNzWeDwpXiCnqklRcPnxTAQEnFODeoJmdVOoRJ0iHivkXYZmiOayftY4ih47SUN3aZs9xf2AOIVpIJMwYjBTtcMEhgKqZJ1DzOWpUyxGLwf4dXk8v/s400/IMG_4116.JPG" /></a></div> During our two days there, during which we cycled around the island and briefly braved the refreshing sea water for a dip, the town square was always occupied by old men hanging out with their mates.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTRoSSpkLnpLIgJti1WMRZvekuOD9fPjctcvob930TwF2tyfwdaM-whaKyfQe8CORVtFeJIG2T84g5FO0I3YIeswXFdlJAqi9uhf-x9w8kUUsLqmZhJgAFkc2oXPA2BPK80qFnzyL7eEb/s1600/IMG_4309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTRoSSpkLnpLIgJti1WMRZvekuOD9fPjctcvob930TwF2tyfwdaM-whaKyfQe8CORVtFeJIG2T84g5FO0I3YIeswXFdlJAqi9uhf-x9w8kUUsLqmZhJgAFkc2oXPA2BPK80qFnzyL7eEb/s400/IMG_4309.JPG" /></a></div>Then when sitting aournd drinking tea becomes too stressful, men go to a <span style="font-style:italic;">hamam</span>. When myself and Ciarán went to one such Turkish Bath in Izmir, it was both a relaxing and hilarious experience. After lying for awhile in the sauna on a large marble slab looking up at the domed ceiling, a smiling fat man, who like us was just wearing a short cloth towel, went to work on us. This involved a body scrub, a soapy massage and generally giving us a good clean. I felt like I was a small child when, after fully covering me in suds, with a hearty laugh he proceeded to give me a full 360 spin on the wet marble. All in all, a bizarre but good experience.<br /><br />An aspect of travelling that I have enjoyed is learning parts of a country's history about which I previously knew little or nothing at all. I've read some excellent history books during my travels, including John Hemming's <span style="font-style:italic;">The Conquest of the Incas</span> when I was in Peru, Robert Hughes' <span style="font-style:italic;">The Fatal Shore</span> in Australia, and Michael MacLear's <span style="font-style:italic;">The Ten Thousand Day War</span> in Vietnam.<br /><br />In Turkey, after touring the Gallipoli peninsula,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYQi1sU3xnMyIJdbdtRY-jYlv-l_PFwYZA5OS4eyPvSMUnzo6oatUwaQZBVFabD2DkZhCwaTd_XXGrIrGld6s27fK0ifq_V5lOSfj2UYexdOhIES7_8rLPw1Yyw-H6JbSb4Kc-1P9hQpr/s1600/IMG_4111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYQi1sU3xnMyIJdbdtRY-jYlv-l_PFwYZA5OS4eyPvSMUnzo6oatUwaQZBVFabD2DkZhCwaTd_XXGrIrGld6s27fK0ifq_V5lOSfj2UYexdOhIES7_8rLPw1Yyw-H6JbSb4Kc-1P9hQpr/s400/IMG_4111.JPG" /></a></div>I started reading about, among other things, why Turkey was involved in the First World War and why it was on Germany's side in Peter Hopkirk's <span style="font-style:italic;">On Secret Service East of Constantinople</span>. Its a fascinating story. Indeed, Turkey has a fascinating history, stretching right back to ancient times, which we saw impressive evidence of at Ephesus.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM_pGR7Xj5lFAIFc3bhk2tBszgCY3CZ4cp79tSOU1_tlsAGZvf5hZGErGMzoH44GKhtbR2tnMAHmdH9CQKb9ypyDy19MicBVK4ZQUtru_O31qdQPJuPPrfMy8isxAQPfIo4Yer5cNHpQU/s1600/IMG_4160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLM_pGR7Xj5lFAIFc3bhk2tBszgCY3CZ4cp79tSOU1_tlsAGZvf5hZGErGMzoH44GKhtbR2tnMAHmdH9CQKb9ypyDy19MicBVK4ZQUtru_O31qdQPJuPPrfMy8isxAQPfIo4Yer5cNHpQU/s400/IMG_4160.JPG" /></a></div>Once home, I have along list of countries whose histories I want to read more about.<br /><br />Speaking of going back to Ireland, when Ciarán returned to Izmir for his flight to Dublin, I hit for the south coast for ten days of solo travelling after which I too would take a flight to Ireland.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-43665710540344690642012-03-30T06:20:00.004-07:002012-04-15T07:47:27.736-07:00From cold to warm to hot<span style="font-weight:bold;">Kathmandu, NEPAL & Mumbai, INDIA; 19 - 29 March 2012</span><br /><br />For the third time I went back to Kathmandu - a city I grew to like more with each visit. I spent my last few days in Nepal exploring the Kathmandu Valley. And I was impressed. Boudhanath's stupa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyIID2VWA2-3oVeuW2E1eBKvKIwNL9-_VUdxQ2qAfTv81dBMMLWCHyY2o_vzbI-0PScrWSB2SQXWyheGpvugh1_eblcPh7bt7CD3I36H2sm93he-7W9I9XQuXUv-bpDpNEnF5Q4I2VUD6/s1600/IMG_3978.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyIID2VWA2-3oVeuW2E1eBKvKIwNL9-_VUdxQ2qAfTv81dBMMLWCHyY2o_vzbI-0PScrWSB2SQXWyheGpvugh1_eblcPh7bt7CD3I36H2sm93he-7W9I9XQuXUv-bpDpNEnF5Q4I2VUD6/s400/IMG_3978.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637652621535858" /></a> and Patan's Durbur Square and surrounding alleys were both well worth seeing,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWJmS0TC28DYIQJOoQ8ROD9EbiRdysV7NdLK0kh1LFPkO6Xr7drePQAEd1unDKKErjggrNHKyKuD6e-X_-zTVDZx2hO259YThJYQHPn9u-Q-NSPwZB7IEylWEoNiWJD-m5DDuwKaEeIX6/s1600/IMG_3941.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWJmS0TC28DYIQJOoQ8ROD9EbiRdysV7NdLK0kh1LFPkO6Xr7drePQAEd1unDKKErjggrNHKyKuD6e-X_-zTVDZx2hO259YThJYQHPn9u-Q-NSPwZB7IEylWEoNiWJD-m5DDuwKaEeIX6/s400/IMG_3941.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637113763300658" /></a> and I really enjoyed strolling around historic Bhakpatur.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cuCuJKKqXTenDVYmISNvVSjA0hwY9QeDu55QIBqGs1HeWbKEJemmurYkp-CaEmId6Pu5WGQ5IWxQbw5wr3YeNe4ZQP4v5_IbOgiQgz1OVqOke9_JznyWXzz_4bsL8B8EVYhyphenhyphenltmEmFhj/s1600/IMG_3954.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cuCuJKKqXTenDVYmISNvVSjA0hwY9QeDu55QIBqGs1HeWbKEJemmurYkp-CaEmId6Pu5WGQ5IWxQbw5wr3YeNe4ZQP4v5_IbOgiQgz1OVqOke9_JznyWXzz_4bsL8B8EVYhyphenhyphenltmEmFhj/s400/IMG_3954.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637119979002530" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZHkpSg-UrNaaZbC-Dh08KA1uGFTEXD8RgNslyxTAxXcOmfKuvArfaDS5XlUSVgqDvT9TK6vjrcuWQ-T_d4KsAGE6UKgWRwlm-HF-larfDTxnXDimKDrWSB6qi_5hb4DUpu50017q66sT/s1600/IMG_3959.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZHkpSg-UrNaaZbC-Dh08KA1uGFTEXD8RgNslyxTAxXcOmfKuvArfaDS5XlUSVgqDvT9TK6vjrcuWQ-T_d4KsAGE6UKgWRwlm-HF-larfDTxnXDimKDrWSB6qi_5hb4DUpu50017q66sT/s400/IMG_3959.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637125070129794" /></a>But the most memorable moment was at the Muslim site of Pashupatinath. There for the first time I saw dead bodies being cremated (note the smoking riverside pile in the background of the monkey photo below).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKL6PRgHCuhN5VgvcLU2cA7AJbSKYmxBjDtwRP2mNe_bqOhl56yXPK0qX7cLMQ8Ilt129KBmx5WqycJc36UzNUWiWlSRbN_sqAlrBunr1DqZYUNNKgVwbR4tJGpZPOJesiIMMXQA9qKoJw/s1600/IMG_3987.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKL6PRgHCuhN5VgvcLU2cA7AJbSKYmxBjDtwRP2mNe_bqOhl56yXPK0qX7cLMQ8Ilt129KBmx5WqycJc36UzNUWiWlSRbN_sqAlrBunr1DqZYUNNKgVwbR4tJGpZPOJesiIMMXQA9qKoJw/s400/IMG_3987.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637661240156066" /></a>Given how much I enjoyed my nine weeks in Nepal, it was fitting that my flight out of Kathmandu was one of my most memorable. Luckily I had a right-hand side window seat during the first leg of my Air India flight to Mumbai via Delhi because the mountain views were extraordinary. Even though I had spent most of the previous five months in or within sight of the Himalayas, I was mesmerised by this final view of them.<br /><br />Going from the cold, calm Himalayan villages on the Everest trek back to warm, bustling Kathmandu felt like a big step; but going from there to hot and hectic Mumbai four days later was a giant leap. <br /><br />While going to the sights of Mumbai, I saw so many other fascinating things all around me that at times it was too much to take in. The tacky horse carriages bringing tourists past India Gate were more brightly lit than the monument itself. Speeding taxis and sauntering cows distracted me from the impressive train station.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGv1YyzeBfDD1KBy8R7E-Hb2fWkc5DBGhY2o-z9Ka8JFzOny1XP50Z898WyXWSkMiK3k1-tWo7mFVuY8Ejh2HyyIynIsa1NlFaPIF8-QKet9vZMbzZhgPXp4Zo-e_rmETkAZhA17TN4HL/s1600/IMG_3998.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGv1YyzeBfDD1KBy8R7E-Hb2fWkc5DBGhY2o-z9Ka8JFzOny1XP50Z898WyXWSkMiK3k1-tWo7mFVuY8Ejh2HyyIynIsa1NlFaPIF8-QKet9vZMbzZhgPXp4Zo-e_rmETkAZhA17TN4HL/s400/IMG_3998.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637668009624770" /></a>And watching people jumping on and off moving trains on the way to and from the Kanheri Caves was more interesting than the caves themselves.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_KLiBOgmVhvPPytXcVysywktZJgugysn1ILqAJBWtNqVZTsN1HEggE-rV0Sx8-nUPO4J9RC8ugusNxFqrOgyQC6BIpDkouQeWxQG_EFY6ioclkCb8Y9ThKAvJkJezZC5Spe_ywoGoG-G/s1600/IMG_4031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_KLiBOgmVhvPPytXcVysywktZJgugysn1ILqAJBWtNqVZTsN1HEggE-rV0Sx8-nUPO4J9RC8ugusNxFqrOgyQC6BIpDkouQeWxQG_EFY6ioclkCb8Y9ThKAvJkJezZC5Spe_ywoGoG-G/s400/IMG_4031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731637675399398066" /></a>Given the high day-time temperatures (I twice went to the cinema at noon to have somewhere air-conditioned to sit), I found that strolling around in the evening was more enjoyable. And I wasn't the only one judging by the large numbers along the three kilometre Marine Parade and on Chowpatty Beach. My time out there was the highlight of my time in Mumbai (with eating lots of cheap delicious food coming a close second). <br /><br />I look forward to my next rip to India - a country of which I definitely want to see more.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-9148272386209060582012-03-20T04:41:00.010-07:002012-03-20T05:59:12.872-07:00Trekking in Nepal: Everest Base Camp<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZp2OGsMV5I5H0D4aVfbgqaXmmfnlcmHiWYyh4PTp9gdQ8otpDU86NAHfyLOd38409lQhmEOzBkZ9RKvl-CiOqMFGi9UUQyMHObXznb1vZ4CXxVhyphenhypheny5WwACXJNnTK7QbW6G0PxX443kci/s1600/IMG_3874.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZp2OGsMV5I5H0D4aVfbgqaXmmfnlcmHiWYyh4PTp9gdQ8otpDU86NAHfyLOd38409lQhmEOzBkZ9RKvl-CiOqMFGi9UUQyMHObXznb1vZ4CXxVhyphenhypheny5WwACXJNnTK7QbW6G0PxX443kci/s400/IMG_3874.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721960564348971410" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Dates: 8 - 19 March 2012<br />Start/end: Lukla (2860m)<br />High points: Everest Base Camp (5340m), Kala Patar (5550m)</span><br /><br />While the primary goal of the walk to Everest Base Camp is to have great views and to see the world's highest mountain up close, this trek had something not just for the eyes but for all the senses.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Touch</span><br />As I was running out of time in Nepal, I did what the majority of trekkers now do by flying to Lukla to start the trek from there. Although I'm not a nervous flyer, that flight from Kathmandu in a 14-seater plane, where the cabin crew handed out cotton wool to use as earplugs, is not one I'd like to do too often. The amazing mountain views out my window failed to distract me from what I could see by looking straight ahead through the cockpit's window. Lukla's short runway, which slopes at a 12 degree angle upwards, starts at the top of a cliff, and it looked from my angle that we were flying straight for that cliff-face! It was with a great sense of relief that I hopped from the plane and felt my feet touch the runway's surface. It certainly was a memorable start being the first time that I began a trek straight off an airplane.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ndLqEpTj3y_4LXSHpnVLIvwbFJ7NLzamL5Egbrc_XXcDUcNXpsprW0K7ltyHf9xKYpFT8U5IDxWKPRjSsJ7Q138MgpYd7J1-N9PcRVMoyf-_I51YE-SFsKHNaCdaB6cXE1PHpyc1CM9_/s1600/IMG_3739.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ndLqEpTj3y_4LXSHpnVLIvwbFJ7NLzamL5Egbrc_XXcDUcNXpsprW0K7ltyHf9xKYpFT8U5IDxWKPRjSsJ7Q138MgpYd7J1-N9PcRVMoyf-_I51YE-SFsKHNaCdaB6cXE1PHpyc1CM9_/s400/IMG_3739.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721957598358198578" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Taste</span><br />Just as during my Annapurna trek, the fuel that got me to Everest Base Camp and back was porridge for breakfast, vegetable noodle soup (sometimes with delicious fried Tibetan bread), and that Nepali staple of <span style="font-style:italic;">dhal bhat</span> for dinner. While having rice (<span style="font-style:italic;">bhat</span>), lentils (<span style="font-style:italic;">dhal</span>), and curried vegetables everyday sounds monotonous, the greatness of <span style="font-style:italic;">dhal bhat</span> is twofold: firstly, it is always a bit different, leading to the popular trekkers' conversation of "where was your best <span style="font-style:italic;">dhal bhat</span>?" (for the record, mine was in Tengboche and it is pictured below); secondly, it is customary to give a full second helping, which is exactly what is needed after a day of strenuous walking.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfsIyaUHIJorQqzshyphenhyphenyf25emLkwsZEI7QmEwFpn01xnfoSSbcXHq0AP3pm3v4hOhssnWNBCj9SAemHFjHHSlwxmnzFN2ljs0sKElQso2P1iIYW1IIaBo8PUUXKJOJ3mf3qu5498h_YqRN/s1600/IMG_3763.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfsIyaUHIJorQqzshyphenhyphenyf25emLkwsZEI7QmEwFpn01xnfoSSbcXHq0AP3pm3v4hOhssnWNBCj9SAemHFjHHSlwxmnzFN2ljs0sKElQso2P1iIYW1IIaBo8PUUXKJOJ3mf3qu5498h_YqRN/s400/IMG_3763.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721957601183408130" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Hearing</span><br />The two classic sounds heard while trekking in Nepal are prayer flags flapping in the wind<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdziG-KfHnl5GZhGpwQ2gxkK-uHl1tDdn_b7Q5-i_ndX8CrKHfc8DX93VXNzh2yz5F-ruQ7S2bUd8tRCNMNgcYMar3FVf7YlaNy6hSdVNn3UNm1BsQmj3JNmhxWwg38UWKaXtlsvhWY750/s1600/IMG_3896.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdziG-KfHnl5GZhGpwQ2gxkK-uHl1tDdn_b7Q5-i_ndX8CrKHfc8DX93VXNzh2yz5F-ruQ7S2bUd8tRCNMNgcYMar3FVf7YlaNy6hSdVNn3UNm1BsQmj3JNmhxWwg38UWKaXtlsvhWY750/s400/IMG_3896.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958771742522530" /></a>and the ringing of the bells tied around yaks' necks. Using yaks and porters (men, women and children) to transport heavy goods on their backs remains commonplace.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZ9xhdd3apPgN0_aEtto4ZDoGl8thCw6kkdIPc9FDmj2hTKBZqBRXDDIva86qhNOSmihVhd3G6qopvrV2LblCqVBrJ-10gELMEnmMqrXOJ9F6tj7lWcewmKTIF2YH4KzIuRa-_xrBj241/s1600/IMG_3800.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZ9xhdd3apPgN0_aEtto4ZDoGl8thCw6kkdIPc9FDmj2hTKBZqBRXDDIva86qhNOSmihVhd3G6qopvrV2LblCqVBrJ-10gELMEnmMqrXOJ9F6tj7lWcewmKTIF2YH4KzIuRa-_xrBj241/s400/IMG_3800.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958250822613874" /></a>But now the sound of yak bells is at times drowned out by helicopters - the goods brought in by helicopter are much appreciated by us Western trekkers, but yaks make for better photos.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKIO6DNA05jWQeWaGeCaiEaKpfTYFbxsDAy6J7kO9V2l-PQAMDjxUU-Ps-sceLtOi2Px6CxLKDxbo1s403tokmaFZsq7AA1lKWB19ohQlJa_n0iyAvyTFtoxQz_GhaPdvsfcwf-m59C6y/s1600/IMG_3790.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKIO6DNA05jWQeWaGeCaiEaKpfTYFbxsDAy6J7kO9V2l-PQAMDjxUU-Ps-sceLtOi2Px6CxLKDxbo1s403tokmaFZsq7AA1lKWB19ohQlJa_n0iyAvyTFtoxQz_GhaPdvsfcwf-m59C6y/s400/IMG_3790.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958242992129826" /></a>The most memorable sound for me of the whole trek is the deep groaning sound made by the glacier at Base Camp. It gave a hint of the awesome power of nature. If I had had any desire to one day climb to the summit of Mt. Everest (I don't think I ever had, but I certainly haven't since reading "Into Thin Air" - a book that is omnipresent in Nepal's tourist areas), that glacier's threatening grumble would have made me seriously question the wisdom of such an ambition.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMshNW0NOhrujNroNwp9BFZPU-y2IUtsOutvh24PQ2MDvTISWZbdBGydJzlLAUR8L3HR0Bq1RpIGaIun_gZwa2Tiq9rTRyLy29qh0Zhs8QGcCr3c-SFXAmM8wyUP2uuiuib9ci5uTqCe4B/s1600/IMG_3840.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMshNW0NOhrujNroNwp9BFZPU-y2IUtsOutvh24PQ2MDvTISWZbdBGydJzlLAUR8L3HR0Bq1RpIGaIun_gZwa2Tiq9rTRyLy29qh0Zhs8QGcCr3c-SFXAmM8wyUP2uuiuib9ci5uTqCe4B/s400/IMG_3840.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958263892978050" /></a>A less awe-inspiring and hopefully more forgettable sound that featured heavily on this trek was that of sleeping trekkers farting. It was unfortunate that the bedroom walls were usually only plywood given the effect of all those lentils.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Smell</span><br />Speaking of smells, personal hygiene is low on the list of trekkers' priorities here. Lodges charge for warm water and the idea of a bucket shower or trying to wash and dry clothes given how cold it is out of direct sunlight isn't appealing. Lets just say that when I went to the monastery in Tengboche, where trekkers had to leave their boots at the door and enter in socks, I was impressed that the monks were able to maintain focus on their chanting.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgz9a-fgiravJ1ArfRyxQCF4Xiz3_MYOOBquDFUgm15xPB_HiybA-ZSSBolGmvqhnh9UYY2ygYC2CQm8f_tBw58tup9zpXwmc8rTSXT1Pv8e4iewwGFiVDVmxholHrOsehKmnJuLzVNlN/s1600/IMG_3775.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgz9a-fgiravJ1ArfRyxQCF4Xiz3_MYOOBquDFUgm15xPB_HiybA-ZSSBolGmvqhnh9UYY2ygYC2CQm8f_tBw58tup9zpXwmc8rTSXT1Pv8e4iewwGFiVDVmxholHrOsehKmnJuLzVNlN/s400/IMG_3775.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721957607672921586" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sight</span><br />Smelly socks were a small price to pay for the experience of getting to Base Camp and of looking at Mount Everest from atop Kala Patar. I generally had sunny, clear skies throughout the five days that I worked my way up (given my recent Annapurna trek I was able to skip the acclimatisation rest days so I got from Lukla to Base Camp quicker that most people).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i4BOVJtPk1OqIdhmvRreqqsNY0RFApb6udAHYN_uKWBgI7oc5rz-IpNhCRAQ0tq_2d6ZoWrCysSBOKmXaSM1Frtcqou6WEZGU3RuS3iFmdfH8kspTLfsY3CbEQ69n9uhKdSTPgOQO2Wi/s1600/IMG_3787.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i4BOVJtPk1OqIdhmvRreqqsNY0RFApb6udAHYN_uKWBgI7oc5rz-IpNhCRAQ0tq_2d6ZoWrCysSBOKmXaSM1Frtcqou6WEZGU3RuS3iFmdfH8kspTLfsY3CbEQ69n9uhKdSTPgOQO2Wi/s400/IMG_3787.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721957617126584482" /></a>Then on the final push to Base Camp, the clouds closed in, the wind picked up, and it started to snow. This all gave the experience an "epic expedition" quality, which I was actually quite happy with.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmxvbH1p8sGwUebA4GLiAOjD3Lg25EAylYVdvRN_ra1tmFEyaiAYwbd97KQ3_FMD89jNnGCo3isNUEEF9a_am82U-GEi_05k2hsJ5pap28gzwhNLm_AEV4WTS6QCbaSxCpYeUkq3K_qb5/s1600/IMG_3821.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmxvbH1p8sGwUebA4GLiAOjD3Lg25EAylYVdvRN_ra1tmFEyaiAYwbd97KQ3_FMD89jNnGCo3isNUEEF9a_am82U-GEi_05k2hsJ5pap28gzwhNLm_AEV4WTS6QCbaSxCpYeUkq3K_qb5/s400/IMG_3821.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958259761902290" /></a>Besides, the views from Base Camp itself aren't as good as from nearby Kala Patar, so getting to Base Camp is all about just getting there (by the way, there was nothing there at this time of year). Thankfully the clouds cleared during the night, so at 5am, with altitude-induced shortness of breath, I slogged up Kala Patar. The sight of Mount Everest close-up, as well as the 360 degree panorama of mountains and glaciers, was simply stunning. When freezing hands forced my temporary trekking partner to return to the relative warmth of the lodge, I had the top of Kala Patar and the views all to myself. Given that the number of people who do this trek every year is into the tens of thousands, I was incredibly lucky to be alone with such perfect views.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH9bRnI40rxd8G8W9XJdLSqNfwaLTUvMPAQxemS9IeBVEAghcoiI3IJxXEtxovQDYgk6nlzTx4FzigiMs2jXBqX9i_M2iWM9vM6hC5xG-Kgq73A0SKnQr4Rh-o4nU6ZAekrI0bjUMtRm5/s1600/IMG_3852.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH9bRnI40rxd8G8W9XJdLSqNfwaLTUvMPAQxemS9IeBVEAghcoiI3IJxXEtxovQDYgk6nlzTx4FzigiMs2jXBqX9i_M2iWM9vM6hC5xG-Kgq73A0SKnQr4Rh-o4nU6ZAekrI0bjUMtRm5/s400/IMG_3852.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958752655768626" /></a>Again, going without a guide and/or porter worked out just fine as I was able to go at my own pace and at this stage I'm well used to carrying my own rucksack. Apart from the two big days when I got to Base Camp and Kala Patar when I teamed up with other independent trekkers, I tended to walk alone. Then most evenings I met and chatted with interesting people (and I generally managed to avoid the guesthouses filled with large, guided groups).<br /><br />It was a great eleven days and I count myself a lucky man to have had the chance to enjoy this experience.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTmyOKIkd3AB8IuIL8CWH3_1zfMBpMoZDoA9TzJS7Ahagtp4Qqr8JJeiUgMVwOHlp35f7TYUElqbU0vPbD4bH7VV6BI-LjLZv3A0p0zgO-9FXnTQsbPQhF5meweEcIVKVIl31umUtwoCC/s1600/IMG_3862.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTmyOKIkd3AB8IuIL8CWH3_1zfMBpMoZDoA9TzJS7Ahagtp4Qqr8JJeiUgMVwOHlp35f7TYUElqbU0vPbD4bH7VV6BI-LjLZv3A0p0zgO-9FXnTQsbPQhF5meweEcIVKVIl31umUtwoCC/s400/IMG_3862.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721958755597156226" /></a>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-23120959558326287462012-03-10T01:49:00.000-08:002012-03-20T04:18:17.781-07:00Trekking in Nepal: Interlude<span style="font-weight:bold;">Pokhara, Kathmandu, NEPAL, 4 - 8 March 2012</span><br /><br />When the <a href="http://www.seeinghandsnepal.org/index.html">blind Nepali masseur</a>, who had just lowered my boxer shorts as a prelude to pressing his hands hard onto my bare buttocks, asked me if Ireland was part of the UK, I thought that that was the most unusual time that I was asked that common question. During my travels I often feel that I am earning my pay by being an ambassador for Ireland given the countless times that I have described hurling and Gaelic football, told people about the extent to which people speak Irish, and summarised Irish history (I'm now an expert at succinctly explaining the whole Northern Ireland issue).<br /><br />That massage in Pokhara was one of my post-trek activities. In the four days between finishing the Annapurna trek and starting the walk to Everest Base Camp, I enjoyed some of the things missing from my time in the mountains, i.e. hot showers, a shave, clean clothes, pizza, steak and beer.<br /><br />Then in Kathmandu I enjoyed something missing from my life in general, i.e. strangers coming up to me on the street to rub paint on my face and head! <span style="font-style:italic;">Holi</span>, the Festival of Colours, involves streets full of people, lots of coloured powder and water bombs, and it was a fun way to spend a sunny day.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfxvLVu2Iy4WMHDwUaCOGphQPaMhZ6O4Nkl5m0YRQePAoZGgCSSf7tBLHCSZzfAvULI-GjEP8hb0qyYu8a7pjyWRPsRaIl6onPZeifQlqEx9YCocN14bggKV4R2lVNsOyVyc8k3l0A-M6/s1600/Holi.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfxvLVu2Iy4WMHDwUaCOGphQPaMhZ6O4Nkl5m0YRQePAoZGgCSSf7tBLHCSZzfAvULI-GjEP8hb0qyYu8a7pjyWRPsRaIl6onPZeifQlqEx9YCocN14bggKV4R2lVNsOyVyc8k3l0A-M6/s400/Holi.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721527914972360034" /></a>Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-3278521633752118512012-03-06T00:24:00.006-08:002012-03-19T01:51:29.968-07:00Trekking in Nepal: Annapurna Circuit and Sanctuary<span style="font-weight:bold;">Dates: 8 February - 4 March 2012<br />Start point: Besisahar (820m)<br />End point: Pokhara (827m)<br />High points: Thorung-La Pass (5614m), Annapurna Base Camp (4130m)</span><br /><br />Walking in the Annapurna mountains was the trek that had it all:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Great, ever-changing scenery</span> <br />I spent the first few days wearing shorts and a t-shirt as we passed rice paddies and banana plantations. Then as we got higher the layers came on as we walked through snow.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjr3_pRxeaH-laXahjjhbqtVVZAdkCVeERcqUIhOnzyqPUhc84OofND8hfBpb6kJ0X5l13pbExfiWhXVhsbfYxEClUAoPoIwBuUMBlv1Iv7GXsuFdLYmEmQAqUUmXlMBKaSCjTNCT3wLs/s1600/Me+and+snow.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjr3_pRxeaH-laXahjjhbqtVVZAdkCVeERcqUIhOnzyqPUhc84OofND8hfBpb6kJ0X5l13pbExfiWhXVhsbfYxEClUAoPoIwBuUMBlv1Iv7GXsuFdLYmEmQAqUUmXlMBKaSCjTNCT3wLs/s400/Me+and+snow.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721522824055432066" /></a>The beauty of an area blanketed in snow and the sight of frozen waterfalls more than compensated for having to wear a woolly hat to bed (something I always think is a bit depressing) and for having to use outside squat toilets where the water in the bucket to be thrown into the bowl was frozen.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0A0WqM_Yc-523waY__98FaiWMeSwvnt-ebMCfS3yCujmzPdpnwp4REiFLZTkBQn8AeLPsPIKbkfodgFGUy3NWfIHhtY4qE1bvzg9TaUCyYjRErrVXsIvNeLZ1TnSgmnvVYtozKUMsBYF/s1600/Toilet.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0A0WqM_Yc-523waY__98FaiWMeSwvnt-ebMCfS3yCujmzPdpnwp4REiFLZTkBQn8AeLPsPIKbkfodgFGUy3NWfIHhtY4qE1bvzg9TaUCyYjRErrVXsIvNeLZ1TnSgmnvVYtozKUMsBYF/s400/Toilet.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721523209466326290" /></a>Then once we got over the Thorung-La Pass and started descending the landscape became desert-like until we reached apple-growing country.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZD1OeBfPmifp1gogAL0k7TPjeMYDqYMj3HzcKJEDGka7LHqhpj751IDxvtEyxpiH2lQKpezzlPj_A4G9U5AkhIMNladSuBE_PO_ew_RlvtDYnDnqH15comVcsAmBwpM147g-qJNLSuzmD/s1600/Desert.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZD1OeBfPmifp1gogAL0k7TPjeMYDqYMj3HzcKJEDGka7LHqhpj751IDxvtEyxpiH2lQKpezzlPj_A4G9U5AkhIMNladSuBE_PO_ew_RlvtDYnDnqH15comVcsAmBwpM147g-qJNLSuzmD/s400/Desert.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721522819523441890" /></a>This all gave a corresponding variety in the animals we saw, which ranged from lizards and monkeys to eagles and yaks.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQC1hxDLxrzgALCBrq-usGe-583q3qW30iQjC81SPDL9lvSWg4VcdtnPuMTD78pT1I3b6LruNuKve2RzlRX_8dzi0pXRze-LagVWEkt8e6XJM-z_Y3t4OKp5h8MYV0fhVLJWhdyeYIPmSd/s1600/Yak.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQC1hxDLxrzgALCBrq-usGe-583q3qW30iQjC81SPDL9lvSWg4VcdtnPuMTD78pT1I3b6LruNuKve2RzlRX_8dzi0pXRze-LagVWEkt8e6XJM-z_Y3t4OKp5h8MYV0fhVLJWhdyeYIPmSd/s400/Yak.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721526707497239954" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cultural insights</span><br />Unlike places where I've trekked in other countries, people live throughout the whole Annapurna area. We passed through and stayed in many picturesque villages, their narrow, stone-paved streets and alleys giving them a medieval feel (an impression that was somewhat cancelled out by seeing the locals watching satellite television and chatting on their mobile phones). We came across several village meetings and a couple of weddings, giving us interesting insights to life in this region. On a more practical level, the advantage of trekking in a well-populated area was that we didn't have to carry our own food as there was an abundance of guesthouses along the trail.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQPaTqVlXZWxsqy3YgCYETHdj1u4LKiFmTvBFTw73utCmChXBuqDcUvouCFitrQ0qJ78cd9zis_m2un2738gH5D74Q53HsesXEfGk-3DoN5I5pMK3XSh2tbnLVjDpRzjiH2-PuYhru9ho/s1600/Med+town.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQPaTqVlXZWxsqy3YgCYETHdj1u4LKiFmTvBFTw73utCmChXBuqDcUvouCFitrQ0qJ78cd9zis_m2un2738gH5D74Q53HsesXEfGk-3DoN5I5pMK3XSh2tbnLVjDpRzjiH2-PuYhru9ho/s400/Med+town.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721523206036853794" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">A challenge</span> <br />To complete the Circuit, the 5614m high Thorung-La Pass must be crossed. As we began our walk, days of heavy snowfall higher up forced the Pass to be closed. So during the days that we were making our way up towards the Pass, we met scores of trekkers on the way down who had given up the hope of completing the Circuit and had turned around. More heavy snow on days four, five and seven depressingly increased the likelihood that we too would have to turn back. When most people in our lodge in Manang decided to go down, we opted to wait one more day. When the next morning brought the first clear skies for days, we happily though cautiously continued our ascent.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLbPnz0wIoGGWjChbXORQeHgMhLFXgcMEBE8sryFdyCjWIu1YS59N6sTQDFKNOMFljC4QyLRZt8P1qt9-65E7zEKuYPctMcZPiVbXSVABJKZGqDoKXn-BP5NXd1quNZiVGHAZ1ZZFQIIT3/s1600/Manang.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLbPnz0wIoGGWjChbXORQeHgMhLFXgcMEBE8sryFdyCjWIu1YS59N6sTQDFKNOMFljC4QyLRZt8P1qt9-65E7zEKuYPctMcZPiVbXSVABJKZGqDoKXn-BP5NXd1quNZiVGHAZ1ZZFQIIT3/s400/Manang.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721526708726127522" /></a>Thankfully a French group with guides and porters did the same. So on the eleventh day, we battled through deep snow and freezing temperatures to make it over the Pass. Though it was a long, hard day, the sense of achievement more than made up for the hardships.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3mnM8druE4c_ikHDyLUYvb3XZESRZwYorgFIXyje9Rdlifqs-kaqQ_t7pl-vxip743qsyqH__SvFtz2Tu0j9rPfb6xBOSh8xdO0HqxlLdr001ePZuy6CvHVkFCbis4djVQxaGJ2O2E1r/s1600/Me+at+Pass.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA3mnM8druE4c_ikHDyLUYvb3XZESRZwYorgFIXyje9Rdlifqs-kaqQ_t7pl-vxip743qsyqH__SvFtz2Tu0j9rPfb6xBOSh8xdO0HqxlLdr001ePZuy6CvHVkFCbis4djVQxaGJ2O2E1r/s400/Me+at+Pass.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721522825751575618" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Solitude and Socialising:</span> <br />Paradoxically, time spent trekking can be perfect both for being lost in your own thoughts and for getting to know people. This trek had the perfect mix of solitude and socialising. Importantly, I got on well with my trekking partners Aly and Laura. As it was off-season, we often walked for hours without seeing other trekkers and sometimes we were the only people staying in a guesthouse. But most nights there were usually a few others so, sitting around heaters burning yak dung, I met a lot of nice people and learned some new card games. I can't imagine what it is like to walk this trail in peak season when there are nearly twenty times the number of trekkers (in 2010, 340 tourists came to the Manang district in February compared with 5,960 in October).<br /><br />While I like the peace that comes with walking on my own, I was reminded of the dangers inherent in solo trekking by an incident we came across on our third day. An Englishman who took the wrong trail slipped and fell off the edge of the path, injuring his legs and getting a concussion. A text message that he was able to send to a friend took over three days to be passed along to the locals in the village that he said he was near. We arrived in that village around the same time as that message. That evening, although we were well wrapped up in the lodge, we were still cold (a few nights later the temperature was measured at minus six degrees Celsius <span style="font-style:italic;">inside</span> our bedroom). It was worrying to say the least to think about that guy out there on his own for a fourth night. Once the message was translated for the locals, they found him quickly after starting their search in the morning. We were glad when we met him as he was being brought into the village to see that all in all he was in pretty good shape.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">An added bonus:</span> <br />I enjoyed trekking around the Circuit so much, that after nineteen days I didn't want to stop. So after watching the sunrise from Poon Hill, I said farewell to Aly and Laura and started the Annapurna Sancturary trek. This week-long walk to Annapurna Base Camp brought me to the centre of the mountains that I had spent the previous couple of weeks walking around. While this trail was a lot busier with plenty of large groups (and therefore safer for a solo trekker), I'm really glad that I had the time to do it and to see the sunrise at Annapurna Base Camp.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YwLYjW72d6oqvo6GPGiEP9OpWOzOE9H-b2tbJEBVqllHvLGXsBOcYKwIcA6m-yXECap1HooFS0oJwffswBkLotS7ITd0E79xFYGDfH7Wv1EkFckpFPO7qhHnKi3wchqoef4CT7vwV5Qo/s1600/ABC.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YwLYjW72d6oqvo6GPGiEP9OpWOzOE9H-b2tbJEBVqllHvLGXsBOcYKwIcA6m-yXECap1HooFS0oJwffswBkLotS7ITd0E79xFYGDfH7Wv1EkFckpFPO7qhHnKi3wchqoef4CT7vwV5Qo/s400/ABC.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721522808645902162" /></a>On my final morning I reached the road at Phedi where buses run back to Pokhara. Leaving the mountains and returning to town and city life meant returning to an all-too-common feature of such life in Nepal - a strike. I discovered that no transport was running all day becuase, to quote a local restaurant owner, "some group wants something from the Government". I decided to walk the twenty kilometres to Pokhara rather than wait until the following day. While that extra distance wasn't welcome given the hundreds of kilometres that I had just completed, as I walked along the traffic-free road I saw some interesting sights of how the locals handle such strike days, which mainly involves just chilling out.<br /><br />My Annapurna trekking experience was so positive that I decided that the only way to spend my remaining time in Nepal was to do another of the world's great treks - the walk to Everest Base Camp.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-7180614793374873242012-02-08T22:20:00.001-08:002012-03-21T03:43:16.208-07:00Trekking in Nepal: Prologue<span style="font-weight:bold;">Pokhara, NEPAL: 1 - 7 Feb. 2012</span><br /><br />Once I got to Nepal I had to make several decisions about trekking:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Where?</span> Nepal is synonymous with top class trekking, so it was hard to choose where to start. In the end I went for the three-week Annapurna Circuit. It has oft been called the "best trek in the world", but recent and future road building threatens this status. So I thought I should walk it now that I had the time and before the road encroaches too much.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">When?</span> Peak trekking season in Nepal is October and November, with the low season corresponding to the summer monsoons. I arrived in Nepal in January, the middle of winter. Not many people trek the Annapurna Circuit in January and February because of the cold and snow, which can often cause the Thorung-La Pass (the high point on the circuit) to be unpassable. While that risk is the disadvantage of trekking in winter, the advantage is the avoidance of the crowds of peak season. I decided to wait until a week into February before starting, hoping that the weather might get a bit warmer.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">With whom?</span> While many people trek in Nepal with guides and/or porters (the sight of porters carrying huge bundles on their backs held in place with a strap on their foreheads is one of the defining images of trekking here), I wanted to do it independently. But for safety I didn't want to trek alone, So through a trekking website, which felt like a form of internet dating, I teamed up with Aly from England and Laura from Germany. As Aly wasn't able to start for a few days, I had time to spare, leading to another question:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What to do while waiting to begin a long trek?</span> Simple, do a short trek! With the son of the owner of the guesthouse where I was staying in Pokhara, whose name Sagar means ocean, which is something that he, like most Nepalis, has never seen, I went on an enjoyable three-day trek. While the days walking passed fields filled with mustard-seed with views of the Annapurna mountains in the distance were enjoyable, the experience of spending a night in Sagar's home and a night in his uncle's home made this "mini-trek" a memorable experience.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDViJu9vvsPjUismhv18uAkoIa9HkCa7PB8I3KySTuG-mUnRgPmWP6dcM7_R-YuQFqQf8vvtMAqLPn8Qm728P0g17MyLy16tAMkqkSiFPAmf57cOytWZU-bZoSEjO22VDq4DEME54HfOMP/s1600/IMG_3355.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDViJu9vvsPjUismhv18uAkoIa9HkCa7PB8I3KySTuG-mUnRgPmWP6dcM7_R-YuQFqQf8vvtMAqLPn8Qm728P0g17MyLy16tAMkqkSiFPAmf57cOytWZU-bZoSEjO22VDq4DEME54HfOMP/s400/IMG_3355.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717044371258599522" /></a>Other homstays that I have done, in Mexico, Bolivia and Vietnam, were more like staying in a B&B (the Irish equivalent of a "homestay") than staying with a family. But this was different. The first evening I sat in front of the house watching the world go by (i.e. a few old men using discarded trekking polls as walking sticks, and women carrying wood down from the forest) with newly-hatched chicks under a wicker basket to my left and Sagar's 74 year old grandmother stripping sheaths of corn to my right. While Sagar's mother prepared <span style="font-style:italic;">dhal bhat</span> (the staple Nepali meal of rice and vegetables) in the smokey kitchen behind me, their goat gave birth to male twins (I learned that male goat meat is tastier and therefore more valuable).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHNkkZTkg_UBAWsUxFCzYYPQ9gIMzX0GBdRKOPz4cK5LUlhlrTokM5JfvkN3C0AGvmk1GaQvOuy-Fd-X-soNFLLUmtquXz-Lz6FVB_Rc9CCsYqjGaqqEyelzBMv3R8RTuoPgFqP78dDD0/s1600/IMG_3348.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHNkkZTkg_UBAWsUxFCzYYPQ9gIMzX0GBdRKOPz4cK5LUlhlrTokM5JfvkN3C0AGvmk1GaQvOuy-Fd-X-soNFLLUmtquXz-Lz6FVB_Rc9CCsYqjGaqqEyelzBMv3R8RTuoPgFqP78dDD0/s400/IMG_3348.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717044354154557698" /></a>I was thankful for this fascinating though brief insight into rural Nepali life.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwP49eACL3KteQMmYkQmOLeA6oUTMOVe6J71dQGwlQnvG3VJKA-GNE9ZgPJ38YGg4n6p2Kz5E0vsDzBWXZf2S1_5LKJzdqKbeMfBVqXkGpS22ZozPIbvWf4Lt92zG3TdBKp2FobZJacqWH/s1600/IMG_3353.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwP49eACL3KteQMmYkQmOLeA6oUTMOVe6J71dQGwlQnvG3VJKA-GNE9ZgPJ38YGg4n6p2Kz5E0vsDzBWXZf2S1_5LKJzdqKbeMfBVqXkGpS22ZozPIbvWf4Lt92zG3TdBKp2FobZJacqWH/s400/IMG_3353.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717044360631225794" /></a>When I came back from that short "homestay trek", I had been in Nepal for three weeks, so I was now eager to start one of Nepal's great treks - the Annapurna Circuit.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-30840459556480607022012-02-02T19:32:00.000-08:002012-02-05T20:33:44.884-08:00Back to backpacking<span style="font-weight:bold;">Kakarbhitta, Kathmandu, Sauraha (Chitwan National Park), NEPAL: 18 - 31 Jan. 2012</span><br /><br />Although Darjeeling is near the Nepal border, getting to Kathmandu turned into a bit of a mission. To get to the nearest crossing that can be used by foreigners, my travelling companions (Denna and Helly) and I took a three-hour shared jeep ride and a one-hour bus journey. We filled out the immigration forms by candlelight and then entered the twenty-sixth country I've visited since starting my career break in September 2009.<br /><br />After spending the night at the border town of Kakarbhitta, the plan for the next day was to be driven in a jeep to Kathmandu. Frustratingly, that 600 kilometre trip ended up taking twenty hours because we were stuck from 9am until 4:30pm at a roadblock that was set up in what seemed like the middle of nowhere by locals angry at a recent government decision. This sort of thing is common in Nepal, so the locals just relaxed, waited and asked "What to do?" in a rhetorical rather than a solution-searching way.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XsC3q-ObGbdr76_2ebU5Ndei6P1j5GVPUsi8YilN4KVEIFjnFIoDLIbDRwGrz9ifyLTRtmq6f2kCa8sn7zZMPGFWNjUy88UB9oVwyQoUEr9_Cw4tqffAMnS8OsJQrC_tLLbhIXujrR0S/s1600/IMG_3247.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XsC3q-ObGbdr76_2ebU5Ndei6P1j5GVPUsi8YilN4KVEIFjnFIoDLIbDRwGrz9ifyLTRtmq6f2kCa8sn7zZMPGFWNjUy88UB9oVwyQoUEr9_Cw4tqffAMnS8OsJQrC_tLLbhIXujrR0S/s400/IMG_3247.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701780674578792514" /></a>There was another strike during one of our days in Kathmandu, meaning all businesses stayed closed until the evening. This was organised by students in protest against high gas prices and "load shedding" (the policy where the electricity supply is turned off for up to 18 hours a day for different areas at different times).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQ4Ww4MDqmIu-kgPuSayi1ASdF1TQJCX14LdnHpGsrMT6YjjUpL6llcRAFQq-iNVjd5u3H6vx0q7mq5-108DSQKK-fuVzugMZa6k5Ak9RZKIu3AIhXVK-rb8s25wAhetvayvuI0-Skp6p/s1600/IMG_3264.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQ4Ww4MDqmIu-kgPuSayi1ASdF1TQJCX14LdnHpGsrMT6YjjUpL6llcRAFQq-iNVjd5u3H6vx0q7mq5-108DSQKK-fuVzugMZa6k5Ak9RZKIu3AIhXVK-rb8s25wAhetvayvuI0-Skp6p/s400/IMG_3264.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701779676443800754" /></a>The Thamel area of Kathmandu reminded me of other tourist hotspots on the world's backpacker circuit. Like Cusco in Peru and Siem Reap in Cambodia, it is filled with Western bars and restaurants, souvenir sellers, internet cafes, travel agents and trekking shops. While obviously this is not the "real" Nepal, we enjoyed treating ourselves to things unavailable in Darjeeling, like falafel wraps and decent pizza. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fnpRRth5wh0qGvrcMl9wDNSFrNheZXQNg8_QI3yDgJH365tqNXlZo4zesF-G_EqRJZTEGuoCc8LMPKvdkJRAejK1GA3ticCryzRHwn7jW3FmD8jco-kwW3IjRZWnp0xn0xWZrCTLW4Mz/s1600/IMG_3265.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fnpRRth5wh0qGvrcMl9wDNSFrNheZXQNg8_QI3yDgJH365tqNXlZo4zesF-G_EqRJZTEGuoCc8LMPKvdkJRAejK1GA3ticCryzRHwn7jW3FmD8jco-kwW3IjRZWnp0xn0xWZrCTLW4Mz/s400/IMG_3265.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701779991523134418" /></a>Spending a week with Denna and Helly in Kathmandu, which was a fun and easy reintroduction to backpacking, highlighted how different it is to travel in a group compared to going alone. Because we did not need to, we didn't interact with any other travellers. But when the girls left to return to Darjeeling, I quickly reverted to being the sociable solo traveller - I chatted with three Irish sisters on the six hour bus journey to Chitwan National Park, and once there I teamed up with a Polish girl for an elephant ride and a one and a half day jungle walk. <br /><br />We set off on that walk after a three minute briefing from our guide: "If a sloth bear attacks, make yourself big and be loud; if a rhino charges, run in zigzags and hide behind a big tree; if you see tiger, keep eye contact and back away slowly". While we saw lots of animals, including rhinos, wild pigs, and several types of deer and birds, as far as we know the closest we came to a tiger was seeing a footprint in the mud.<br /><br />But the main reason why I had wanted to come to Nepal was to trek. So after an enjoyable day cycling around the villages near Chitwan, I hit for Pokhara - the lakeside town overlooked by the Annapurna range.Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-86942778068778426532012-01-22T00:07:00.000-08:002012-02-07T00:45:33.867-08:00My Winter in Darjeeling<span style="font-weight:bold;">Darjeeling, INDIA: 5 - 17 Jan. 2012</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2NzFjNCOs9Q4xyAgY_8P6ChojNVg7m5DBHhjwiAUmKHSSZCdoW1a4xJSASzRA06eDnhnX2lDkR-omG4BrkF0RJrU4tHTHbsW66YslcSezYhO7YsVZ56riEZaIKtOfr2GSV-lrNiXR_v2/s1600/IMG_3161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2NzFjNCOs9Q4xyAgY_8P6ChojNVg7m5DBHhjwiAUmKHSSZCdoW1a4xJSASzRA06eDnhnX2lDkR-omG4BrkF0RJrU4tHTHbsW66YslcSezYhO7YsVZ56riEZaIKtOfr2GSV-lrNiXR_v2/s400/IMG_3161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698138758245114866" /></a>At just over ten weeks, my time in Darjeeling was relatively short. But it was long enough for me to enjoy being settled in one place, to get to know some very nice people, and to grow fond of lots of the little things that make Darjeeling special.<br /><br />Such things include: the rows of potted plants decorating the front of most homes; groups squatting around small fires on the streets in the evenings; people wearing fake North Face jackets; the smiling legless beggar who appears to rise directly out of the ground; the horse stables just off the main square; the rows of tiny raised stalls where sellers sit cross-legged all day among their wares of gloves, woolly hats and pashminas; children of all ages playing badminton on the streets; enjoying a hair cut, shave and head massage all for less than one euro; the monkeys at the temple atop the central Observatory Hill who groom each other in much the same way as the women pick at each other's hair; cashiers giving sweets to customers instead of small change; the way people talk with their love of emphasis ("these momos are SOOOO tasty") and the common refrain "la, la, la"; and the mountain views which I never tired of appreciating.<br /><br />Of course, a major reason why I'm happy with my winter in Darjeeling is that my volunteering position at the Edith Wilkins Street Children Foundation worked out well. I was impressed with the life-changing help that EWSCF gives to a large number of children and I'm grateful that I had the opportunity to play a small part. My role involved spending more time helping in the office than I had thought that I wanted to do. Although at times that meant doing things like photocopying and data entry, I felt that the office was the place where I could be of most benefit. I was therefore happy to help out there.<br /><br />I didn't feel ready to leave Darjeeling, but my soon-to-expire visa meant it was time to go. I guess its not a bad thing to leave a place while the going is still good. And thankfully I wasn't leaving alone as two friends who live in Darjeeling (Denna from the US and Helly from New Zealand) were also going to Kathmandu, so we hit for Nepal together.<br /><br />By the way, for those of you who associate being in India with suffering "Delhi belly", I'm pleased to report that, apart from a cold, I was happily healthy during my three months there. (What happened after having a cheese-burger in Kathmandu is another story - be glad that not everything is included in my blog!)Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3652848741187691637.post-47800490396061385542012-01-06T00:24:00.000-08:002012-01-06T02:00:58.265-08:00Rhinos & Elephants, Bagpipes & Bodybuilders<span style="font-weight:bold;">Siliguri, Jaldapara Wildlife Sanctuary, Darjeeling, INDIA: 26 Dec. 2011 - 4 Jan. 2012</span><br /><br />Just like when I spent Christmas in Bolivia two years ago, the biggest difference that I found between Christmas in Darjeeling and in Ireland is that here it is just a one-day event. Unlike Ireland, my life here immediately returned to normal after the 25th. This meant going back to work, and back to playing cricket with the boys.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixd0o_UepdQ2IZxQJOl00wZsNwVOuJngtIl6FLm1zOxEVfua3jgOvQWrPt_7NF1NCqF99Z7kQc1FXvdKLdWbofI8JI2e77Nn-PyhGVdcw5kGP0f3oleK_wxeYFlPINjEhVDnMeODhMCuGQ/s1600/IMG_3084.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixd0o_UepdQ2IZxQJOl00wZsNwVOuJngtIl6FLm1zOxEVfua3jgOvQWrPt_7NF1NCqF99Z7kQc1FXvdKLdWbofI8JI2e77Nn-PyhGVdcw5kGP0f3oleK_wxeYFlPINjEhVDnMeODhMCuGQ/s400/IMG_3084.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694432828078458162" /></a>And as in Bolivia where I spent New Years in the obscure city of Oruro, I counted down to 2012 in the equally unattractive city of Siliguri (by the way, the New Years in between was spent in Ballincollig). A big group of us had a fun night of watching our friends' band, dancing in a rocking bar, and singing at a house party - sometimes life in India isn't too different from Ireland.<br /><br />Siliguri, which is the commercial and transport hub for this region, is a three-hour jeep ride but a world away from Darjeeling. It is warmer (as it is down in the plains) and a lot more hectic, with rickshaws zooming around the busy streets. In other words, it is like all the other places that I've been to in India, apart from Darjeeling. Going to Siliguri showed me how used to life in Darjeeling I have become.<br /><br />I spent the first night of 2012 in Jaldapara Wildlife Sanctuary, where I went on an elephant ride and saw a few wild one-horned Indian rhinoceros.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1OScyQ3VW9vnKMqSUUEL0G5wnS1SJ9AGz1CxHrHAhRmEpsxAdmZdswQutrVQFIUK9_3P_prAD1WbNUZsvnqjTOeZ1zA9HIxdXjOAtiEwZP34JT3zLlTMX23pt91L_3kw9ntGvPYna6as/s1600/IMG_3110.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq1OScyQ3VW9vnKMqSUUEL0G5wnS1SJ9AGz1CxHrHAhRmEpsxAdmZdswQutrVQFIUK9_3P_prAD1WbNUZsvnqjTOeZ1zA9HIxdXjOAtiEwZP34JT3zLlTMX23pt91L_3kw9ntGvPYna6as/s400/IMG_3110.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694432834808808162" /></a>A train and a jeep ride brought me back up to Darjeeling, where the "Tea and Tourism Festival" was still in full swing. That meant that in one afternoon I was at a dog show, I watched a tartan-wearing, bagpipe-playing Gurkha band,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDqgsWZZvukRaLPgl3KCwD_DEnQYRPA5k5sJzGJP0Njq88X5I19Nl4yWYdEF6mz33Cw1RnX8yJcklmlFe42iolmRbUFiu5ISlc8js6o1ZEHy_vTVYMofsVcc08iYgafXMc5soSH25RNf/s1600/IMG_3129.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDqgsWZZvukRaLPgl3KCwD_DEnQYRPA5k5sJzGJP0Njq88X5I19Nl4yWYdEF6mz33Cw1RnX8yJcklmlFe42iolmRbUFiu5ISlc8js6o1ZEHy_vTVYMofsVcc08iYgafXMc5soSH25RNf/s400/IMG_3129.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694432843713585362" /></a>and, most bizarrely, I went to the "Himalayan Classic Bodybuilding Competition".<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtP587ZeRuRzTvk4j2gJ7l_WoYvAq1nS6mk457HxRH92SYszluZY4TBgSSc3f3ZEIU2E39ZxC5WeBR6m-7_HICuabwuBhFSWBxzto5bQZsKQRgu4eCod4JTT6seOj_Ltkh9dFw0Brz5Vps/s1600/IMG_3141.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtP587ZeRuRzTvk4j2gJ7l_WoYvAq1nS6mk457HxRH92SYszluZY4TBgSSc3f3ZEIU2E39ZxC5WeBR6m-7_HICuabwuBhFSWBxzto5bQZsKQRgu4eCod4JTT6seOj_Ltkh9dFw0Brz5Vps/s400/IMG_3141.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694433072113205138" /></a>It was a hectic but fun start to 2012 - the final year of my career break!Kieran Colemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04473852263042840202noreply@blogger.com0