Pilgrimage with the Buddha Metta Society in Thailand (Isaan region) 2-17 January 2015

My dream as a teenager was to join Medicines San Frontier as part of its team of Doctors without Borders. Instead, 19 years on, I find myself as part of a multi-cultural team demonstrating Dhamma without Borders....

Our group of 12 pilgrims led by Ajahn Sudhiro and accompanied by Tan B (Brendan) and Tan C (Christian) consisted of people from various parts of the world – 3 Americans, 2 Malaysians currently residing in the UK, 5 British, 1 Thai currently residing in New Zealand and 1 Thai from near Bangkok. Some of them have repeatedly made this trip in the preceeding years, whilst it was a new experience for the rest of us.

The 2 weeks of travelling from monastery to monastery was unlike the other sightseeing holidays I have been on in the past. Our journey begun in Khon Kaen at Wat Pah Kanjanapisek with Ajahn Sudhiro’s birthday and the rice harvest celebrations. Prior to playing with the local children whilst feasting on the village offerings, we were reminded to generate gratitude to our parents for our gift of life as Ajahn Sudhiro led a ceremony in memory of his parents. The reality of ageing, sickness and imminent death was brought to mind when we visited Luang Por Mahaso at Wat Pah Kam Can Nua. Christian’s head shaving in preparation for his ordination unfolded the following day. It’s only Day 4, and already we have stumbled across reminders of the Buddha’s 4 encounters when he left the palace gates over 2558 years ago.

Each morning started with following the barefooted monks on their almsround (pindapat). Local villagers would line the streets with food offerings to await our arrival. With palms held together in anjali, they greeted us with big smiles and the words “Savadeeka” (hello), “Savadee Pi Mai Ka” (Happy New Year), “Now mai” (Are you cold?) and “Sabbai di” (How are you?). The monks’ visit each morning provides them with the opportunity to give dana and practice generosity. Unlike in the West, I found that the Thais were very open handed in giving, and equally open to the idea of ‘allowing’ others to practice generosity by gratefully receiving anything that is offered. It was a beautiful practice to watch and embrace. The practice fitted well with Ajahn Sudhiro's mother's advice to him as a young child - "Don't eat without offering dana, don't leave the house without taking the 5 precepts, don't sleep without meditating".

The ensuing days unfolded with us hopping from monastery to monastery, transferring metta (loving kindness) to its resident stray dogs and listening to live dhamma talks from the respective abbots. Some members of the team reminisced at the construction site of the reclining Buddha at Wat Pah Kittiyanusorn where they had helped to lay concrete in previous years. At Wat Sri Pu Wieng, we observed the recitation of the 277 rules of the patimokkha and the ordination of Tan C as Garudhammo (meaning 'steady in the dhamma' in Pali). Despite the distracting psychedelic lights emiting from a Buddha rupa at Wat Thum Pha Kurng and its huge ornate display of nagas, we were entranced by its abbot's dhamma talk urging us not to run away from our fears and to frequently recollect the teachings of the Four Noble Truths. Luang Poo Thongma repeatedly blessed us at Wat Tam Kaeng (deer cave) whilst encouraging us to let go of everything (ie thoughts and attachments) at night as we lay in bed because we never know when we will draw our last breath.

It's clear to see why Wat Tham Pah Wieng stands out for me as a memorable experience in this trip. It was here that Peter, Joan and I spent the night in a cave with countless bats. We abandoned our initial plan to return to the sala for evening chanting as it was too hazardous to manoeuvre our way up the dilapidated trail to the cave in moonlight. Therefore, we opted instead to do a short evening chanting and meditation session of our own. The cave filled with our faltering chants of the Ten Perfections, reflections of universal well-being, the Buddha's word on loving kindness and reflections on sharing blessings before subsequently falling to silence as we sat in meditation in the darkness. I had a very disturbing sleep that night - one may blame it on the unfamiliar surroundings, the visions I had of unfamiliar faces, the weird but short dreams that filled my sleep or the loud bang followed by the silhoutte of a man in glowing white light making its way to the mouth of the cave. I thought the latter was Peter making his way to the 'toilet' in the middle of the night, but he later denied this having been fast asleep through the night. It was only revealed by the abbot of the monastery (Luang Por Vijaro) the next morning that the cave holds cremation ashes in its nooks and crannies. He believes that a monk who had practised well had once died in that cave, and that the visions I had were pleas for the sharing of merits. Despite my usual scaredy-cat nature, I felt a positive vibe in that cave. I believe that it is filled with virtuous beings who mean no harm and truly wish we had shared enough blessings to uplift their spirits.

Our visit at Wat Pah Chang Pueng, the Wat of the Fallen Trees (and the nearby cave) and Luang Por Chorb's Cheddi were a bit less hair-raising although the witnessing of a motorcycle accident en route did generate a lot of emotive discussions.

The following day, we attended the Children's Day celebrations at the Summuang School down the road from the Buddha Metta Project. My next unforgettable experience was to unfold at the bamboo grove near the cave a short trek from the Buddha Metta Project. It was here that Ajahn Sudhiro had practised for 8 years. Whilst most of the others chose to remain in the cave, unable to find a comfortable spot, I opted to sit in meditation at a private but open area a short distance from the cave. Halfway through my practice, I opened my eyes in response to a distracting rustling of leaves. I saw a brown snake scuttle across the rocky terrain being chased by a black snake. I thanked my lucky stars as I had nearly chosen that rocky terrain as my 'seat' just moments before. I tried to continue my practice as the black snake retreated to its hiding place. However, it wasn't long before Tan C decided to climb over the top of the cave. The commotion triggered the black snake to resurface as it slid past about ten feet in front of my path. Needless to say, my meditation session had been distrupted beyond return by this point. Nevertheless, Ajahn Sudhiro felt the experience was special enough to recount to the Samayya students on tudong the next day.
 

The Cheddi at the Wat of Peacocks (not its real name) offered me the perfect environment for a peaceful meditation session. The abbot reassured us that anyone (even farangs) have the potential to reach nibbana. He also gave us a dhamma talk about relics, letting go, the power of the mind and how to work with bodily pain. We visited the Mae Chee Kaew nunnery before heading for Wat Buddho Thamma Tharo where Luang Por Sompong gave us a dhamma teaching about panna, kilesas (defilements) and finding refuge in oneself.

It only seemed fitting that our journey would take us to the birth place of Ajahn Mun, the monastery where he was ordained as a novice monk and the meeting place of Ajahn Mun with his teacher Ajahn Sao by a water well where Ajahn Mun had made offerings to Ajahn Sao. Ajahn Best and Tan Peter made us feel welcomed at the "Zoo Monastery" where we chanted in memory of a friend who had recently passed away.

I started off the trip expecting Wat Nong Pah Pong and the Ajahn Chah memorial service to be the highlight of the trip. However, it soon became apparent to me that I was enjoying the journey more than the destination. Nevertheless, I did find Ajahn Chah's Cheddi rather emotionally moving. 

For me, the main highlight of the trip was listening to the dhamma talks given by the reknown teachers we met along the way. I had made a determination to be mindful and present throughout the trip. Hence, I listened attentively to every piece of advice they had to impart and diligently wrote them down for future reference. 3 common themes came up repeatedly during the dhamma talks – sati (mindfulness), panna (wisdom) and samadhi (concentration). Whilst these were not new concepts to us, it impressed upon me how simple the Buddha’s teachings are, and yet how powerful it can be if utilised and practised well. I found it very inspiring and it has motivated me to be more diligent with my practice.

Travelling with fellow Kalyana Mittas (spiritual friends) whilst having dhamma discussions was also very enjoyable. This trip has finally given me the opportunity to visit the many famous monasteries I have read and heard about over the years of frequenting its affiliated monasteries in the UK (Harnham Buddhist Monastery in Belsay and Amaravati Buddhist Monastery in Hemel Hempstead).

 

A few days before leaving Thailand to return to the UK, I commented that I was about to leave for the ‘real life’. A wise man amongst us responded that the humdrum of working life is not the ‘real life’. Living in the dhamma (a term frequently coined by Ajahn Sudhiro) truly is the ‘real life’ - no pretences, no denials or covering things up but instead trying to live life in the present moment, seeing and accepting life the way it is. Having thought about it, I can’t help but agree with him.

 

Argentina 6-24 November 2014

Stunning scenery and Italian cuisine.....

The 2 weeks in Argentina provided me with the perfect opportunity to practice my basic Spanish, top up my tan, test my skills in charades and build up my stamina by walking from dawn to dusk on most days.

As Argentina is predominantly populated by Italian and Spanish migrants, much to my disappointment, we didn't get to try many new weird and wonderful dishes as pizzas, pastas, steak and empanadas (mini Cornish pasties) were the usual suspects in most restaurant menus. Argentinians seem to love spreading dulce de leche (a sweet milky caramel) on everything - bread, pastries and desserts. They are also very fond of their mate tea - lugging 2 liter thermos flasks everywhere they go so that they can top up their mate cups.

In the days leading up to the trip, I was anxious about how I would make my own way from the airport to the hotel where I would be reunited with my friends. South America has always had a bad reputation for illicit drug trafficking, crime, violence and corruption. Fortunately, over the course of the two weeks I was there in November 2014, I learnt that my pre-conceived ideas about how unsafe Argentina were unfounded. Sure, one has to be street smart and extra cautious in certain parts of the country, however generally, we found Argentinians to be friendly and kind.

Our journey started in Buenos Aires where we explored its suburbs - Palermo, Recoleta, San Telmo and La Boca. We snapped photos of Casa Rosada from all angles; including from within its famous balcony where Eva Peron (Evita) addressed the crowd who came to support her and her husband Juan. We walked along Avenue de Mayo, Florida, Defensa and Avenue 9 de Julio at least half a dozen times, in day light and at night over the course of 3 days. Plaza de Mayo, Palace of the Argentine National Congress, Obelisco de Buenos Aires, Piramide de Mayo and Plaza San Martin became familiar landmarks as we criss crossed the city to visit its tourist attractions. Plaza Dorrengo, Feria de San Telmo (San Telmo Sunday fair), the Mafalda statue and the San Telmo markets quickly became favourite spots that we found ourselves visiting again and again - predominantly to watch the tango performances and pick up little souvenirs. I loved how the crowd of people had fun spontaneously participating in the tango dances and cheering on the dancers. We also made time to visit the La Recoleta Cemetery (contains the graves of notable people, including Eva Peron, presidents of Argentina and Nobel Prize winners), Museo Del Bicentenario, Floralis Generica or made a day trip out to Tigre Delta (a popular tourist attraction by the mouth of Rio de la Plata).

 My friends and I unanimously agreed that the highlight of the trip was the mini trek on the Perito Moreno glacier. Despite a delay to our flights, we made it safely on the 3+ hour flight from Buenos Aires to El Calafate. It was then a short drive from El Calafate to the Parque Nacional los Glaciares. The Perito Moreno Glacier is one of only three Patagonian glaciers that is growing. The glacier was named after the explorer Francisco Merino who sadly never got the chance to catch a glimpse of the glaciers before his passing away. Equipped with crampons and a brief training session on how to walk on the ice, we marched forward to explore the blue-white terrain. It felt surreal be in the middle of the winter wonderland terrain of uneven meringue like peaks, streams, crevasses and lagoons.

For me, the view of the granite Fitz Roy range from the top of Laguna de los Tres came a close second favourite and was well worth the 1 hour steep hike up from its base. We were astounded by the force of Mother Nature when we visited the Iguazu falls both from the Argentinian and Brazilian borders.

In Chile, we were treated to panoramic views of the glacier sculptured snow capped Torres del Paine mountain range and its turqouise coloured lakes. To top it all, we also spotted the Argentinian black and white tegu, condors, coatis, wild boars, guanacos, a woodpecker and a cayman.

Malta - a place I wouldn't mind calling home

The end to a travel-ful year.....

I have been very lucky to have been able to travel to so many places in 2013. But just before the year comes to an end, I felt that I needed to cram in just one more short break. It's the most last minute holiday that I have ever booked (1 week prior to travelling), but I'm so glad I made that impulsive purchase because it has been a fantastic holiday.

Armed with just a backpack and handbag so as not to go over Ryanair's hand luggage restrictions, I set off on the third solo trip of my life. I chose Malta because I wanted somewhere relatively cheap, safe enough for a lone female to travel on her own, a place that does not charge for single supplement and easy to travel around. Malta ticked all those boxes.....and more!

The main 3 Maltese islands consist of Malta, Gozo and Comino. Equipped with a DK Eyewitness Travel guidebook from Morley library, a stack of bus timetables obtained on arrival at the airport and a tip off from David to avoid Popeye Village, I set off with my trusty 2.60 Euro day bus ticket for my day out in the cities.

First stop was Valletta, the capital of Malta. I couldn't have planned things better. As I walked down its main high street, Republic Street, I stumbled across the National Museum of Archeology. Perfect! That was on my list of things to do. With photographs of the 'Sleeping lady' and 'Venus of Malta' securely stored in my camera, I continued down the street. Before long, I was greeted by an unassumming building with the sign 'St John's Co-Cathedral'. Fantastic! That's a second tick on my to do list! When I first read the guide book, I was rather hesitant about visiting yet another European museum and cathedral. However, I'm so glad I handed in my 5 Euros for entry into the St John's Co-Cathedral. I have no idea what's the difference between a cathedral and co-cathedral, but the inside of this building was very ornately decorated and extremely atmospheric. I am no art critic, but I did think that the oil painting 'The Beheading of Saint John the Baptist' by the Italian artist Caravaggio looked amazing.

It doesn't take much to confuse me. As I exited the cathedral from the back door, I had lost all sense of direction. Hence I trusted my legs to take me wherever it so wished. Trust me to stumble across a pastizzeria (a place that sells pastizzis (the Maltese equivalent of a Malaysian curry puff or British cornish pasty) and pizzas) and subsequently the Barrakka gardens with a panoramic view of the Grand Harbour.

Due to my small lie in and extended breakfast, by now, I was running out of time to cram in Rabat and Mdina. Rush, rush and onto the bus I went. The tourist information operator suggested that I visit the WWII shelters, St Paul's grotto and catacombs in Rabat. The only problem with visiting Malta off season was that I had the whole place to myself. My heart sank as I heard a couple walking out of the catacombs, as it meant that I would have to venture it on my own. With a big gulp, clammy hands and a pounding heart, I tried to be brave. I walked down the endless alley of WWII shelters buried underground only to find a dark, narrow, winding path leading to the catacombs. I marched ahead with renewed confidence, peeked my head round the corner, stood amongst the catacombs and scuttled off as the audio aid mentioned that one may still find the odd pieces of bone lying about. I thanked my lucky stars that I hadn't paid the 5 Euros for entrance into the main sections of the catacomb but instead went for this mini version which included entry into the grotto and WWII shelters. Whew! Why do I do this to myself? And pay for the experience?! I vowed that from now on, I will avoid anymore visits to places of the dead in this holiday! That's the Hal-Saflieni Hypogeum struck off my list! I'm not going to book in advance and pay 30 Euros to scare myself!

The Mdina, or otherwise known as the old capital of Malta or 'Silent city' is a pretty medieval walled town. Its location at the top of a hill gave it commanding views of the farmland below. I worked my way through its narrow high walled streets bathed in the yellow glow of its street lamps as the sunset in the distance. Being the kiasu (literal translation: scared to lose) Malaysian that I am, I decided to take a different route home. Why tread on the same path back to Valletta and then change buses to get to Sliema when I can take the X3 to Bugibba/Qawra, and then bus number 12 to Sliema; and hence cram in seeing yet another place (Bugibba/Qawra)? Anyway, so that's what I did. Only thing is, it was so dark outside, I couldn't see any of what must have been stunning views of the beach front of Bugibba. Oh well, I sang Moonriver to myself whilst chomping down bite size pieces of the Maltese honey ring (a round Christmas sweet pastry filled with the usual suspects of Christmas spices - cinnamon, clove, orange peel, aniseed) as I walked down to the bus stop to catch my connecting bus. (In case you are wondering why singing to myself seems to be a common theme in my blogs, it's because my piano teacher Gill said I need to practice for my aural Grade 2 exam).

Downing my breakfast in 10 minutes flat (a great feat for me!), day 2 was an early start as I needed to rush for the infrequent one hour bus ride to Cirkewwa to catch the 9.45 am ferry to Gozo. Politely turning down morning coffee with an overtly friendly elderly Maltese gentleman from Naxxar sitting next to me on the bus, I quickly walked around the Cittadella in Victoria (the capital of Gozo) whilst chatting to 3 Manchester university students from Malaysia. Then I headed to Dwejra to see the Azure window and Fungus rock. At the last moment, just as I was waiting for the bus back to Victoria, I even managed to catch sight of the greenish Filfola lizard (Maltese wall lizard).

Unfortunately, coming off season, there were no ferries to Comino, so I'll have to forgo seeing the Blue lagoon. Not a great sacrifice, but it would have been nice to have been able to make the visit. Instead, I replaced the afternoon itinerary with a bus ride to Ramla Bay. Not a bad substitute. Apart from a dog walker, I virtually had the whole beach to myself......for a good few minutes anyway! After a few attempts at hiking up to what I thought was Calypso Cave, I gave up as the trek was overgrown with weeds. As I waited on the beach for the bus, a conversation with a local security guard revealed that I had been barking up the wrong hill! Calypso Cave is at the top of yet another hill on the other side of the bay! Oh well! Never mind!

Despite the relatively short distance to Hajar Qim and Mnajdra temple, day 3 was to be an even longer day due to the few bus changes that I would have to make. I grabbed a boiled egg and a strawberry jam sandwich from the breakfast buffet to be consumed at the bus stop. The two Neolithic temples are situated by a hillside overlooking the sea and Filfa island. What a beautiful location! It was in the museum here that I was harrassed by an attention deprived cat. We danced as the little feline followed my every move - left, right, forward, backward, round and round. Perhaps unlike all other Maltese beings, this cat didn't speak English - because I said out loud "I'm sorry, Cat. I know you want me to play with you, and I really don't know why, but I don't like cats.", but it didn't get the message. When I tried to ignore it, the little ball of fur came closer and nudged against my leg! Even my steel-like aversion to cats dissipated as I laughed at this feline creature that wouldn't leave me alone. After I pressed the green light switch that demonstrated the stream of light passing through the miniature model of the temple during the Summer Solstice, the cat followed suit with its paws pounding at the light switch. Perhaps the museum attendant heard my cries of laughter as it wasn't long after that he came equipped with a packet of crisp to lure the cat out of the museum. Despite all that, I did manage to learn a bit about the method of corbelling used to create the roof of the temple structure and get my black khaki trousers covered in dust from taking a self-potrait whilst sat by the doorway to the temple.

I very nearly scrapped the idea of going to the Blue Grotto as I'm sure I have seen something similar in the past. And it didn't help that if there were no boats going out that day, I would have had to wait an hour for the next bus. However, I am so glad I bit the bullet and went for it. The coral blue water in the grotto was stunning. What a mesmerising colour! If we had more time, it would have been possible to dive in for a swim. It was so tempting!

Next stop, Marsalokk - a sleepy fishing village to the south west of Malta island.  I took the opportunity to sit back, relax and watch as the blue and orange striped fishing boats bobbed in the harbour whilst devouring a grilled lampuki accompannied by Maltese roast potatoes and bread soaked in Spanish olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Not wanting to rush on my final half day prior to the journey to the airport the next day, I decided to cram in one final stop. Senglea and Vittoriosa. I hopped onto bus number 203 (as bus number 3 didn't turn up when it was supposed to). I had a whistlestop tour of the Vittoriosa marina, St Lawrence cathedral, Inquisitor's palace and Fort Angelo before rushing back to Sliema's Diplomat hotel for its Maltese buffet spread accompanied by 'traditional' Maltese music. After a deep conversation about religion and life, I made my way back up the Marsamxett harbour to my hotel for a leisurely time before my departure the next day.

Morocco - desert, mountains, sun, sand and sea

Lovely company, wonderful time....

As we sat in the taxi on the way to Lima Airport in Peru in November 2012, ST and I started planning for our next adventure holiday for the following year. Plans of discovering more about the Mayan civilisation in Mexico, exploring the archeological sites in Jordan and trekking in Nepal did pass through our lips. But alas, due to time, financial and safety constraints, Morocco came up tops.

I ignorantly said yes to Morocco before I realised that we needed a travel visa. Luckily ST managed to submit the documents on my behalf at the not so friendly visa office in London. Two weeks later, it was a done deal! In a matter of days, our flights and tour were booked! In the frenzy of working extra long shifts, neither of us managed to get in any holiday research before we found ourselves on the plane to Marrakech.

Our 2 weeks' adventure saw us whizzing through Morocco. In Marrakech, we watched the many activities in the main square Djemaa el-Fna (monkeys, snake charmers, ample stalls selling orange juice and dates, henna stalls, theatrical performances and funfair games) and explored the souks branching off from it. If one manages to overlook the trail of horse carriages and the wonderful aroma that it imparts, the Koutoubia Minaret was a good alternative landmark to look out for when trying to work out directions back to the hotel. Casabalanca offered us a glimpse of the interior of one of the world's biggest mosques in the form of the Hassan II mosque 'floating' by the sea. This is as per Hassan II's translation of the Koranic verse that proclaims God's throne was built upon water.

In Rabat and Meknes we visited several mausoleums and night markets whilst downing more mint tea. Chefchaouen had lots of narrow streets flanked on either side by blue and white washed buildings akin to a scene from Santorini in Greece. One of my favourite places was Fez. We started off with a superb tour of the souks by Ali as he led us through narrow maze like streets. With mint leaves in hand to mask the smell of the ammonia and pigeon poo used in the processing of the leather, we visited a tannery and took the obligatory photos as featured in travel magazines. To top it all off, we had one of the nicest meals in Morocco. We had tapas like starters, (in my case) a main of pastilla (pastry with chicken filling topped with a dusting of cinnamon and icing sugar - I know, it sounds like a strange combination but tasted heavenly! :P , and finished off with a big platter of fruits including ruby red pomegranates. Superb!

As we headed westwards away from the cities towards the Atlas mountains, the temperature plummetted drastically. By the time we reached Midelt, it felt like a totally different country. We were frozen and surrounded by maple trees. There were cries of outrage from the tour members. We came to Morocco for the warmth! If we wanted the cold, we would have stayed back in our respective countries (Canada/Britain/Australia)! Whilst the weak Canadians seeked shelter in the van, the tougher British trained Malaysians braved the weather for an outdoor lunch picnic of strange looking fruits (eg Horned melon/kiwano) and crisp.


Without doubt, the highlight of the tour was our trip to the Sahara. Once we had dressed up for the part, we mounted our camels and trotted across the sand dunes as desert sparrows fluttered around us. ST, who was initially the most frightened amongst us, bravely let go of the handrails to concentrate on her camera shots whilst my clammy hands gripped the handrails for my dear life. I utterly enjoyed sandboarding as we watched the sunset.

After a hearty meal of olives, kebabs, khobz (Moroccan bread) soaked with the gravy from the stew, rice, fruits and mint tea, we sat round the campfire for a sing-a-long and drum playing session. The Australian, Canadian, Polish and Malaysian national anthems were sung in true patriotic fashion followed by renditions of Moon River, Que Sera Sera and Ging Gang Gollie in my not so melodious voice. One by one, everyone chickened out of sleeping under the stars and headed to their respective tents. As my final companion for the evening, Jason turned round to me and asked "Will you be alright out here on your own?", I automatically replied "Of course, I will!"......a response I was to regret for the rest of the night! Equipped with only 3 blankets, a few layers of clothing (including my trusty North Face waterproof jacket - not that I am likely to need a waterproof jacket in the Sahara desert), I curled up on the sand. First, I heard what sounded like big bubbles gurgling through a huge tumbler of water. I blamed that on the camels. Then, to my right, I heard the howling of what sounded like a wolf. Next was the sound of Jason's beer can rolling in the wind. Intermittently, I would hear the toilet door slamming in the wind. Needless to say, I didn't get very much sleep that night. However, it was an amazing, unforgettable experience as I lay in the middle of the Saharan desert on my own, watching as the constellations and moon make its way across the sky. Never mind that I only noticed the untouched spare mattress on the other side of the campfire the next morning as I woke up before anyone else to take photos of the camp. In a daze, we lined up on our camels, felt the warmth of the sun against our skin and watched as the sunrise casted long shadows on the sand. It was a photographer's dream come true.

Our next stop was the Todra valley and Todra gorge. The red coloured sheer rock face towering above us looked spectacular. It was a shame we didn't have enough time to go for a trek before we were whisked off to Ouarzazate. It was at Ait Benhaddou, Ouarzazate that the Gladiator was filmed. It was also here that we watched as invisible messages came to life before our very own eyes - using tea, saffron and heat.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Essaouira was our final stop before we returned to Marrakech. It's famous for it's sun, sand and surf. A relaxing European like town by the beach. I did enjoy wandering down the streets in search of Arjan oil and other souvenirs, chatting to the fellow Swiss traveller who picked at his grilled fish with surgical precision, watching the fishermen cleaning their catch and devouring grilled crab, prawns, squid and sea urchin for lunch and dinner.

All in all, Morocco was good fun, especially thanks to the lovely companions we had throughout our travels. Morocco does have lots to offer, though I must admit it didn't give me as much of a buzz as I had on my return from Peru. ST and I agreed that we think the holiday could have done with a trekking trip thrown in. Perhaps we could fit that in alongside a trip to Argentina in the new year??? ;)

Peak 3 : Snowdon (1085 m), The Final Leg....

28 Oct 2013 - As Britain faces a severe storm with 90 mph winds, will we accomplish our final peak challenge? (this storm was judged to be within the top ten most severe storms to affect southern England in the autumn in the last 40 years)

Despite the dire weather forecast for the weekend, Aunty Angeline, ST and I bunked at my house overnight in preparation for our early morning dash to Wales. Although the weather looked rather promising as we set off at 6 am in the morning, we knew that dark clouds, wind and rain were forecasted for 1 pm that day. How accurate are the timings provided by the weatherman? Can we time it well enough to avoid the inevitable soaking?

Leaving Aunty Angeline at the base of the mountain with her Snowdon Mountain railway ticket in hand and brief information about what she can do with her time, ST and I set off on the Llanberis path. There are a choice of 6 paths up Snowdon - the Snowdon Ranger path, Llanberis path, Miners path, Pyg track, Watkin path and Rhyd Ddu path. The initial plan was to take the Snowdon Ranger path which starts at the YHA Snowdon Ranger hostel where we were putting up the night. However, not wanting to take risk with the weather (and our poor navigational skills), we opted for the Llanberis path which is less steep albeit a slightly longer route. I have previously made my way up the Snowdon Ranger path with Keith on a fateful March morning just 3 years ago, and even then we got absolutely drenched. Back then, fueled with adrenaline, despite foolishly not being prepared with an Ordinance Survey map, we managed to make our way to the top of Snowdon's snowy peak and run down its slopes much to the amazement of fellow trekkers coming in the opposite direction.


Anyway, back to the Llanberis path story! Despite the path closely following the railway tracks, I found it to be a rather scenic route. You can judge that for yourself from the pictures in this blog.

ST had told me previously that once she gets the momentum going, she is rather reluctant to stop halfway through a trek. Armed with that piece of information, I waved her along each time she looked back to check that I was ok. About three quarters the way up, my body decided it needed a glucose top-up. Hence, I took the opportune moment of whipping out a banana as ST stopped for a photo shoot. It was rather amusing that she breathed a sigh of relief as she commented "I thought you didn't want a break till we got to the top!". Aaaah, misunderstandings! That's what you get for assuming you know what the other person wants.

Not long after our short banana and cashew nut break, the wind picked up and the pitter pattering of rain drops started. With my relatively thick blue raincoat nicely strapped in by my backpack to 'protect' it from flapping around in the wind, we slowly made our way to the peak - momentarily freezing in position and crouching on the ground as the wind became unbearably strong. With ST clinging on to the trig point, my raincoat torn to shreds by the wind (making it look more like a Tarzan costume), I crawled on my hands and knees to the top as I braced the strong winds. We made it!! Just! Many after us had to turn back, and as we later found out, Aunty Angeline never made it to the top as the train services were suspended (to her delight, she got a full refund!). But we made it! Mission accomplished! The National Three Peaks in, erm, slightly over the initial 4 months deadline. (though this is to be blamed on our hectic working and social lives rather than a weakness in our stamina ;)

So, the question now is, what's next?.....................

VSO Morecambe Cross Bay Walk - 14 Sept 2013

Wading in the sea.......

Once again, we were blessed with fantastic weather. It took us 2 hours to drive to Grange-Over-Sands (the end point of the walk) in time to catch the train to Arnside (the start of the walk) at 12.30pm. Grange-Over-Sands is one of the most scenic train stations I have ever seen - with views overlooking Morecambe bay.

Led by Cedric Robinson MBE and accompanied by about 500 other walkers, we set off at the blow of a whistle. The walk started off along a very rocky and muddy route along the coast before passing through a caravan site further inland. After a wee stop in which food was consumed and long trousers were rolled up, we headed out towards the estuary. It all felt rather firm underfoot despite the odd wobbly, jelly-like, potential quicksand sections. Pale clean legs were soon splattered with mud thanks to splashbacks from neighbouring walkers. There were lots of dogs running around having a field day! I had my eyes set on a little black poodle and a king charles spaniel - they were just sooo cute!

Mesmerised by the clear blue skies overhead and its reflection on the water underfoot, I took over 140 photos! Soon it became clear why we had been advised to wear shorts/quick drying trousers. Alas! My attempts at rolling my trousers up were in vain! Before long, I found myself wading deeper and deeper into the sea water with my hands up in the sky to keep my walking pole dry. The water was cold, but not too cold. And yes Cedric, my knickers did get wet!

The next part of the walk was across a sandy part of the estuary - with some risk of quicksand and to my delight, lots of samphire (albeit a bit beyond the season)! Just in case one didn't get wet and muddy in the first 3.5 hours of the walk, the final squelchy bit of the walk took care of that. Despite the good coverage of grass, the terrain was very wet and muddy. Perfect combination for slips and falls.

At about the 4 hour mark, the walking group naturally formed a single file as we walked through the stone stile gap. After shaking hands with Cedric and exchanging pleasantries about the walk, we made our way back to Grange-Over-Sands and devoured David's delicious homemade orange jaffa cake before setting off home. Tired after a long day out. But feeling elated from the lovely day and equally fantastic company.

Peak 2 : Ben Nevis (1344m), here we come!

Life is uncertain, death is certain.

With reference to the above, life is constantly changing and fluid. Hence, Peak 2 has ended up being Ben Nevis instead of Snowdon. Nevertheless, Snowdonia is still on the radar, albeit slightly delayed.

I don't know how summer flew by with so much and yet so little happening. Contradictory? Sorry, but it is true. Before we knew it, The Day was upon us. All my grand plans of training before setting off for Ben Nevis went out of the window. I did however, take half a day's annual leave for the commute up to Scotland - good thing too, as despite leaving at 3pm, we didn't arrive at the B&B at Crianlarich till 9.30pm. That did however include a stop for dinner at a service station. Lo and behold, believe it or not, dinner was a Chinese takeaway in the middle of nowhere.

Holding on to every last word of the weather forecast, we decided to do the track on Sunday as there was slightly more sunshine and less risk of rainfall predicted.  Saturday was instead spent on a leisurely drive from Fort William to Mallaig as the Jacobite train tickets were sold out. I was stopping every few minutes for photo opportunities, not wanting to miss out on shots of the beautiful scenery we drove past. Alas, I must admit that the camera did not do the views any justice.

The weatherman did not disappoint. We set off on a slightly misty morning with promising blue skies overhead. Parking at the Glen Nevis visitor centre was only £3 for the day (2013). Before long, we were bathed in sunshine and treated to stunning distant views from the Ben Nevis Mountain Track. Despite the very obvious path, we were well equipped with an OS map and compass - just in case!

The trek was uphill all the way, but a lot less strenous than Scafell Pike. However, due to the awkward height of the wet stoney path in some parts of the trek, the descent was painstakingly long. It took us just over 6 hours in total for the ascent and descent. Lucky for us, we managed to snap lots and lots of photos before the clouds drew in just as we finished our lunch on the summit and headed back down, taking particular care to avoid (but stare in awe) at the 'Five Finger Gully'.

So far, we have been particularly blessed with perfect weather on two of our National Three Peaks challenge trips. We couldn't have asked for more. No doubt if the weather had been different, it would have drastically affected our enjoyment ratings. Enjoyment rating : 10/10. Muscle ache rating for the next 2 days : 8/10 (where 0 = no ache, 10 = excruciating pain).