31 March – Kathmandu, Nepal

Nepal is enjoyable. I arrived 9 days ago, entering from Banabas in India to Mahendrenegar, at the western end of Nepal, then following the length of the country, arriving in Kathmandu about 8.15 a couple of nights ago, 2 hours after dark and in the rain! I made for The Bakery Cafe on Jawalekel roundabout (for those of you who know Kathmandu), one of a chain all run by deaf staff, and was met by one half of my current hosts, Mary and Huw, friends of my friend, Sheila D, in Bristol.

As for the rest of my time in India, it took 4 days from Agra to the Nepali border. I was glad to have cycled this last section in India (I might have taken the train, the way I was feeling), as it was more pleasant than the majority of my cycling in India had been: clean villages, pleasant countryside, friendly encounters, quieter roads, copeable harrassment, filmed interview by a reporter, allegedly from CNN, and his team of 4 assistants (but I realised the next day that I'd not seen any press ID, so who knows), easy cycling; this all served to give me less of a negative experience of the country.

I realised soon after entering Nepal why I had felt so low in India: after saying goodbye to the welcoming sociableness of Gujerat, all I was doing was cycling along busy, noisy, dangerous main roads; only being able to look forward to grimy hotels at the end of each day! Surely, it is no wonder that, coupled with the other incidents I have previously mentioned, I had felt as I did. Hence, in Nepal, I made the very conscious decision to camp as much as possible, which I did for 4 of the 7 nights en route to Kathmandu. I safe-camped the first 2 nights: one on private land, the other by the roadside in a village (honestly, it felt very safe); and wild-camped in the forest for the next 2 nights, scaring myself witless the first night with over-imaginations of people creeping about and so deafening myself with earplugs the second night to stop these false imaginings. I really enjoyed the camping; SO lovely to be away from dreary hotel rooms inhabited by mosquitoes and bedbugs.

In Nepal the going was flat for the first few days, then some climbing, until the last 2 days before Kathmandu, when it was all uphill. Great scenery, though, following a river all the way up; sometimes down at river level, sometimes way up at top-of-gorge level. Loads of adrenalin-enhancing rapids on the river; it would have been fun to have seen some boats going down them.

I had completely underestimated the final stretch from Mugling to Kathmandu (I was told it would be flat; I have since learned that Nepali 'flat' is akin to British 'mountainous'; everything's relative). As the day wore on, I walked up most of the uphill bits, had frequent rests, hoped someone would offer me a lift (in the Middle East, I'd have had loads of offers by now), felt exhausted, still great scenery, stuck my thumb out a few times, gritted my teeth, plodded on; no opportunity to camp and not enough cash to stay anywhere, determined , anyway, to reach Kathmandu. I was on the road that day for 12 hours to cover 74 miles; the last 2 hours in the dark along bumpy, busy, broken roads. Eeek. But - I managed it – and without crying! I felt very proud of myself; maybe this trip is beginning to have a positive effect on me. :-)

Mine hosts are really kind; I appreciate staying in a home; I loved going with them to their church on Sunday (first time since that awful service in Turkey on Christmas Day), a warm, friendly, spirit-filled community. And just what I needed after a barren time without Christian fellowship.

The main purpose of being in Kathmandu is to organise my ongoing trip to Lhasa. All indications to date are that it will not be possible to go as an independent traveller; that I should have to be part of group. This is: a) incredibly costly, b) seemingly limited to one direction only, ie. flying to Lhasa, then cycling back to Kathmandu – not particularly helpful for my ongoing route! c) I don't fancy being in a group. Therefore, I am currently looking into arranging a (compulsory) Tibetan guide to meet me at the Nepal/Tibet border, thence to cycle with me for the 3 weeks to Lhasa. In theory, this should be at a fraction of the group cost. Oh, another, 'small' consideration is that the border is currently closed. Hmmm ... . There is talk of it opening on 8 April, but .... well ... let's see, eh?

BTW, I have now clocked up 9004 miles.

16 March - Agra

The Taj Mahal! A serenely beautiful monument, built in celebration and praise of love. I arrived at dawn, so as to see the changing hues on the white marble over the next 5 hours. It is a sublime view, gazing up the watery avenue to the graceful symmetry of this mausoleum, dedicated to a beloved wife from a true romantic of a husband. Aaaah .... . Doesn't it just send shivers up and down one's spine and make one's eyes well up?

I have been in Agra for the last 4 days, resting my painful ankle. I had left Delhi on the worst day possible, making by far the biggest mistake so far on this trip. It was the festival of Holi, which means that everyone gets brightly coloured paint powders, water and coloured foam thrown/squirted over them.

I had been warned of the festival and to make sure I was not cycling after dark. So, silly me, I didn't even think there were implications during the day. I soon found out, though, that there were. Initially, it was OK, I could cope with the paint and water; but, as the day wore on and people had been drinking, it all came too menacing and really very unpleasant. It was THE worst experience I've had at any time; I felt extremely vulnerable. Even when I finally found somewhere to stop for the night, (camping in the grounds of a tourist accommodation complex - the room rates were too high to take a room), I was confronted unpleasantly by a young guy.

The next day was a very nervous one for me. But, do you know what saved my sanity? My daughter thinks this is pretty sad; but it was seeing a McDonalds and stopping there for burger, iced coffee, soft scoop ice cream + choc sauce, and filter coffee. I never normally choose to go for a McDonalds and for me to do so, voluntarily, and in India!, well that was just too much for my daughter. :-) Another thing that helped me was to read the letters from my children, that they had secreted in my baggage before leaving home and which I take out every so often to read. The combination worked a mirale: back on the road again, I no longer felt the victim.

I was interviewed and photographed in Delhi by Time Out; the article should appear in the next copy in about a week's time. They should be sending me a pdf, so that I can post it on the website.

The hotel in Agra in which I'm staying, the Maya, is slightly upmarket from my usual; it is a little above my budget, even though they have given me a discount on the room and on the food, but it is lovely to be in a clean hotel for a change and, anyway, I feel I deserve to spoil myself a bit. :-)

As ever, I think often of people at home and those I have met along the way.

9 March - The Leprosy Mission, Delhi

I spent a wonderful day at The Leprosy Mission (TLM) hospital in Nand Nagari and in a leprosy colony, meeting project staff, of the 'Shalom: developing leprosy colonies in Delhi' project, and residents of the colony. The leprosy hospital is one of 18 TLM hospitals throughout India. All treatment is given free, supported by monies raised worldwide through the charity set-up, as well as from non-leprous facilities offered in the hospital, such as orthopaedics, eye, skin.

As well as talking with the Medical Director, Dr Abraham, I spent a considerable time in the Physiotherpay Department with Indranil Ghosh, the chief physiotherapist, sitting in as he saw his patients: some were coming for their regular check-ups: recording their muscle power integrity, checking for damage to their de-sensitised limbs (eg one patient came with burnt skin from smoking cigarettes and not feeling/noticing when the cigarette and burnt down to his fingers), progressive corrective splinting for acquired deformities; others came just having been diagnosed with leprosy, still infectious, for assessment. Such patients are not isolated: only 5% of people will contract leprosy from another person and, as it can be easily treated (as long as it is discovered) with Multi-Drug Therapy (MDT), it is considered unnecessary to isolate. One such patient came in whilst I was there, sent from a private hospital. This was encouraging, as so often, hospitals just give the patient a course of MDT to take away with them, but give no thought to any additional needs, such as corrective splinting or surgery. TLM want all patients to be referred to them so that this can be done.

There are about 30 leprosy colonies in Delhi. I was taken to one of a group of many near the hospital. The Shalom project is concentrating mainly: on the mainstreaming into schools of the children of leprosy parents, against whom there is stigma by association; the provision of improved sanitation in the colonies. Last year, there was success with a local, enlightened principle of a private school who gave scholarships to 15 children to attend the expensive school. Even so, other schools are yet to follow suit. As so often, attitudes may take a while to change.

Variuos centres run by TLM provide employment for leprosy sufferers, thus enabling them to provide for themselves and their families. The products they make are available online or through catalogues. If you would like to supprt TLM, please have a look at their website.

8 March - Delhi

"I am alone and unhappy; worse is not possible". So said a friend. And it's pretty much how I have been feeling. If I was at home, I could talk to someone. I am India and so have to write it in my journals. Suffice to say that, for future trips, I shall endeavour to have a travelling companion. In two months, though, I shall be midway through my voyage of discovery; at the start of the home-straight. Five weeks after that will be the anniversary of my arrival in Santiago, the completion of the St Jakob pilgrimage route - a very special time. Up 'til now, I have been on a cycle trip; but now I really think of myself as being on a pilgrimage. The point of a pilgrimage is: 1) to become the person you are, rather than being the person you think you should be; 2) to perceive one's purpose in life, thence to pursue it. Paradoxically, despite being on a pilgrimage, I feel in a state of limbo; maybe in a few months I shall feel less so! ;-)

On a lighter note :-) I arrived in Delhi this afternoon. It was noisy and busy and not as bad as I thought it would be, mainly cos I am more used to the traffic now than when I arrived in Bombay; but also there was not the dirty squalor that was so blatantly on view in Bombay. I am staying in the Tibetan colony, away from the hustle and bustle of the centre. I went past the Red Fort; I'd forgotten how huge it was (I visited it about 25 years ago whilst in transit between Kathmandu and the Middle East).

In the past 10 days I have hurt my left ankle (laying me up (in the very nice, quiet hotel, Natural View) in Pushkar for 6 nights); I have a tender left thumb joint which refuses to improve; I was head-butted on my right thigh by a cow!; I strained my right sacro-iliac joint whilst replacing the back wheel after my (?4th) puncture. How decrepit a figure I am. My ankle is still painful, but need to press on as I am falling behind with my schedule, which up 'til now has been fairly loose, but I have to bear in mind the need to be in Alaska for July and August.

Pushkar was one big shopping bazaar and displayed a commercial spirituality: some tourists being charged ridiculous sums if they wanted to go down to the holy lake. I used my recuperation (3 days bed rest) to read: finishing Slumdog, managing to read all of Midnight's Children (Salman Rushdie) and starting on one of many Paulo Coelho books I am acquiring and dashing through.

Tomorrow I should be visiting a centre of The Leprosy Mission (one of my charities) here in Delhi; and I should be being interviewed by TimeOut (India).

24 February - Udaipur

I love India for the amazingly beautiful colourful saris everywhere you turn. The colour is made more vibrant against the neutral colours of the landscape and many of the buildings. At the same time, it seems such a strange juxtaposition to the dirt and squalor that also abounds. Maybe it is precisely for that reason, even subconsciously, that there is this glorious, distractive palette.

I stayed with friends of the Luton family a couple of days up the road, followed by a few days cycling and staying in dirty, grimy hotels. Which, I think is why now, in Udaipur, I keep on staying an extra night (3 to date, but I am definitely leaving tomorrow morning, after my fourth night here). Why? Because I am staying in a delightful oasis of a guest house: family-run, relaxing, great home-cooking, chipmunks scooting around all over the garden and the host saying, tomorrow is tomorrow, see how you feel then.

I have visited the City Palace, currently have henna-ed hands, had a 'manicure' (but need to get out my nail file to complete the job!), a 10-cut hair trim!, and invited home for tea and chapatti by the manicurist (cos her daughter spoke English - of a sort).

(look carefully at the design - you might spot some familiar names)

I'm reading lots; apart from the Bible each day, I've just bought Slumdog Millionnaire (don't say I don't try to keep up with current trends!) and another Paul Coelho book, The Zahir (I was given The Pilgrimage before leaving UK).

Israel

I have waited until now to write something about my side trip to Israel as it is such a sensitive issue in the Middle East.

After my holiday in Asia and saying goodbye to my friends in Amman, I went down to the Dead Sea and crossed over to Israel, spending the first night in Jericho, which is under Palestinian administration. I had a friendly reception, even taken by a taxi driver to the outskirts of Jerusalem (he's not allowed within Jerusalem itself) and shown the dividing wall. A horrible sight. Has it worked anywhere else? Haven't we seen walls in other countries come down? Why? Why? Why? is all that goes round your mind.

Next day I cycled to Jerusalem. It was only 30 kms from Jericho, but it was tough. OK, I was going from below sea level to quite how up [no, I don't know the elevation! :-) ] and some of the gradients were pretty steep, especially after the turn-off from the main road towards Jerusalem itself; but also it was the day after my pretty bad fall on the downhill skating rink and I think I must have been physically shaken enough to have affected me the following day. As it was such a short distance I underestimated the time it would take and I ran out of water; but someone stopped to offer me a lift, which I declined, but they also gave me some water. Something always turns up.

Cycling down the hill into Jerusalem was great. It was one of the things on my trip to which I had been looking foward with enthusiasm and awe. It was great feeling to be in the Holy City. I was wondering around the area of Jaffa Gate looking for some accommodation, which is when I encounterd the endless numbers of cyclists, at the end of which was Tom, The Hungry Cyclist. I stayed in the Jewish Quarter in a comfortable hostel for girls/women for 3 nights; one of the people I encountered was a nuclear scientist spending a few days in Jerusalem after some conference down south.

The place I really wanted to go to was the Garden of Gethsemane, not for the church, but for the site where Jesus supposedly prayed in anguish to His Father, whilst his disciples slept, before being betrayed and arrested. A little stone carving depicts the place (I included it in my batch of photos for that part of my journey - see if you can spot it). I sat there in quiet reflection for quite a while, reading the passage in the Bible. It is such a poignant reading. Many people go past without even noticing the little shrine, going straight to the big church a little further on, but for me, it was a special time just being in that place.

I visited Jaffa, Tel Aviv, Nazareth, Sea of Galilee. I wanted to stay on a kibbutz, but they are run on such a commercial basis now that they were well beyond my means; neither would they allow me to put up my tent in the grounds, even though I was told by some Israelis in Jordan that I would be able to do so! Humph! However, my last night in Israel, right at the border, I did end up staying in one, only because there was nowhere else and I had misheard the price the woman quoted me and so thought it was going to be much cheaper than it actually turned out to be! But, it was, after all, what I had wanted to do.

I was very glad to have been able to have cycled through the Holy Land. It was one of the important destinations for me on my trip. I met wonderful people. I feel so sorry for the limitations that so many nationalities have in their freedom of movement around the world. I realise how privileged I am to be born British, as it does not limit me in such a way. It is very humbling. I met an Israeli who dearly wanted to travel to Iran because he had heard of the friendliness of the people; but, of course, as things stand, there seems to be no chance of him ever being able to do that. And, likewise, Iranians wanting to visit countries such as Israel and unable to do so. Such a shame. Such a sadness. Why?

15 February - Navsari, India

A new continent. After 4 months in the Middle East, I left Muscat in Oman on 12 February.

I failed in my (considerable) efforts to obtain a sea passage to India. :-( So much for my ethos of slow boats, instead of frenzied flying. It was a real disappointment. Ah well, what can one do, but try one's best?

On the way to Muscat, I encountered various surprising folks, not least was the Palestinian who, in response to my saying I was English, immediately countered with 'I hate the English - more than the Israelis, more than the Americans' - and then ended up giving me accommodation for the night!

Other accommodation included staying in a home in a village, in a hotel in Muscat, then 2 nights with a Malaysian/Aussie family, as a result of an encounter in a breadshop when I had asked if I could pitch my tent in the garden. Su, Kieran, Frankie and Caitlan were very welcoming; Caitlan, in particular, seemed struck by my trip. Thanks, guys, for such a comfortable stay.

I met a cyclist! Always cause for celebration. Peder has cycled from Sweden via bits of Africa to Yemen, to Oman, now going on to the Emirates, Iran, the Stans and China (then see how his money goes). As usual with cyclists, a joyful encounter. He was interviewed in Oman resulting in having a couple of articles published in Omani papers that week (I have a copy of one of them).

Now, having gone through the trauma of flying with my bike (being joined, on my way to the airport, by a Brit, Barry, out for a cycle. He flies helicopters), I am in India. I arrived at and left Bombay airport cycling north along Highway 8. For the first 40 kms or so, all I could think of was: a) I'm going to die b) I can't handle the squalid poverty c) I want to get out of here. Truly the worst first impression of a country I have so far encountered.

Since then, though, things have looked up: I am still alive; I have been staying with the most lovely Indian family from Luton; I've spent the last 2, of 5, days at an Indian wedding. I met Nick coming out of a restaurant of a hotel where I was going to inquire about room rates. He invited me to stop over when I passed Naswari. His parents, Ishwar and Indu (known also as Ken and Linda!) have been totally non-plussed by my turning up out of the blue, even inviting me to the celebrations of the double wedding of some cousins. I was welcomed by the wedding host as the woman 'who has cycled from London to be here' and invited onto the stage to say a few words!

I was taken on a visit to a Deaf school. It is residential, started in the 1950s; sign language is the communication and teaching language; and the children are delightful, even being able to understand my signing and me theirs (to some extent), which begs itself to encourage possibly setting up some connections with the Deaf school in Bristol?

Weather is hot. England, I hear, is still snowy and cold. Poor you.

addition to 5th Feb

Below is the deaf relative of an Iranian I met in Cyprus, who makes beautiful Persian rugs.

I am glad to have the opportunity to promote his work and expertise. He can be contacted via his email: mohammadi.davisara@gmail.com and, at some point in the future, he will have a website to view more of his work.

5 February - Al Ain

I said 'goodbye' and THANK YOU to my Abu Dhabi hosts yesterday morning, having had a week's rest and hospitality from them, including unlimited internet access (a few more photos now online).

Whilst in Abu Dhabi, I obtained my Indian visa, saw the golden oppulence of the Emirates Palace Hotel, wandered along the port with the fishing dhows, marvelled at the way the Emiratees have adapted to the sudden and dramatic change of lifestyle from desert people to high-rise entrepreneurs, had my legs waxed and left behind 4 kilograms of baggage (even so I am still cycling with a total of 52 kgs, 20 kgs being my bike).

I cycled, without police escort, along the wide, clean hard shoulder on the E22 motorway to Al Ain, a total of 105 miles (168 kms)!! By far the furthest I have yet cycled in one go (flat terrain plus tailwind) and unlikely ever to be exceeded, except possibly if I was to cycle in Holland. For the first time on my trip, I felt my legs seizing up in the evening. But a hot bath before bed and, voila, today I'm fine.

The above road sign says Al Ain 55 kms; I just liked its blissfully content expression.

Now I am staying with friends of friends in Al Ain, heading off early tomorrow morning across the border to Oman and the coast. Peter, Heather and the children have welcomed me warmly and are making sure I have enough to eat; also giving me unlimited internet access (what would I do without it?). THANK YOU. In the meantime, their teenage daughter is today having a Chinese murder mystery birthday party!

No joy, as yet, with a passage to India. I shall arrive in Muscat in about 4 days where I shall go to the port and see if I can organise something directly. I really do not want to fly.

31 January - Abu Dhabi

Quite an eventful week. I arrived at Bandar Abbas port. Salim came to see me off. We waited. Then this little guy from the shipping line, whom I had met when trying to buy my ticket 2days previously, came and announced something to the gathered throng. I joked with Salim that the sailing had been cancelled. Apparently, though, no joke. That's exactly what he had said. Not that he attempted to convey that to me, even though he saw me there and knew I would not have understood what he had said. Boy am I glad that Salim was with me. He proceeded to spend the rest of the day with me sorting out a refund, helping me purchase a flight ticket (the options of waiting 4 days for the next sailing or of travelling back 200 kms to Bandar Lengeh in 2 days' time, were not greatly appealing - so much for not flying on my trip! But, hey, I'm flexible), taking me to the airport in the evening, packaging up my bike and making sure I took off!

I arrived in Dubai airport at 10.45pm; welcomed by smiling, friendly, relaxed dish-dashed staff all speaking wonderful English. I felt comfortable straightaway. They came over to baggage claim to look at my bike and wanting to come with me. One lent me his phone to call my hosts to say that I was on the way. Someone chatted to me outside the airport and asked if I had organised any television coverage.

I cycled into the city centre (plenty of street lights and my back light flashing) and arrived at Pat's and Labid's, friends of my father, at the unsociable hour of 1.20am.

I had 3 days in Dubai, during which I relaxed the first day: washing clothes, lunch by the Creek (a vibrant place with abras and water taxis ploughing back and forth), rest in the afternoon, evening meal with wine, followed by Pat and I going across the Creek by abra (the small water taxi) to the cultural festival at the Heritage Village.

On the second day I took my bike, for service, oil change and new back tyre, to the German-staffed Wolfi's Bike Shop. I hardly recognsied her when I went back to collect her - so clean and new-looking! :-). Robert, the service manager, fortunately mentioned that I needed permission to cycle along the one and only road to Abu Dhabi, which happens also to be a 6-lane, in each direction, motorway.

The third day was spent obtaining the required permission for cycling to Abu Dhabi. The upshot was that, as a result of popping into Dubai Municipality (to see if there were still any people who remembered my father working there 30 years ago); of meeting a security guard (Mohammed) in the reception area who realised who I was talking about because he recognised my father's features in me! and who then took me to meet 2 other staff (Mohammed and Mohammed)in my father's department; of being taken to meet the Assistant Director of the Environment Department, who wrote a letter for me to take the Traffic Department for my permit; I was then driven to the relevant building, met with the Director of the Right of Way department, who organised an official letter (through her assistant, Abdullah), as well as a police escort (Abdullah)! She was insistent that I accept this arrangement, 'for my own safety', as they did not want anything to happen to me.

Duly, therefore, last Wednesday, I set off from my hosts at about 7.10am, cycled along the Creek, watching the dhows being loaded with loads cargo stacked up all along the creek side, through the tunnel, meeting up with Abdullah and his co-driver (Abdullah) near the distinctive, sail-shaped Burj Al Arab hotel along the Jumeirah road, complete with all-round flashing lights as well as a big, orange, 3-flashing-arrows sign on the top of their vehicle. And that's how I travelled to Abu Dhabi (cos they had liaised with Abu Dhabi police to take over at the border, which also meant, at one point, I had 2 police cars escorting me until the Dubai lot could U-turn back to their own province). I was just amazed at all these arrangements; and very appreciative: the E11 Sheik Zayed road is fast and busy - and I was nicely cocooned from it.

I arrived at my next hosts': Andy and Julie, plus children, Lucy and Daniel. This came about from my translation request for an Arabic version of my intro letter, resulting in Andy's sister responding to an email sent out by my friend, Alison, in the Geography department at Bristol University! They live in a lovely villa, with (freezing-cold,-in-and-straight-out-again) pool, in a quiet neighbourhood before central Abu Dhabi. Whilst here for a few days for R&R, I shall be sorting out some photos for the website, organising a visa for India (ooops, I thought I could get it at the border) and trying to find a passage to India.

In the meantime, Tomasz had to cycle in cold and rain; had something go wrong with his bike for which he had to fit a motorcycle part; had 4 police escorts before Zahedan and 3 more once there and now should be in India, having had to travel by train because of the troubles in the region.

Ooops, this is a long journal entry. I'll stop now, so you can get back to work or have a cup of tea. I'm going to be uploading some photos within the next couple of days and so look out for them.

23 January - Bandar Abbas

I have SO enjoyed these last 16 days cycling with Tomasz; it has completely changed my trip through Iran, cos I know it would not have been the same without him. Tomasz has been given a year's 'leave of absence' by his girlfriend back in Poland to do this cycling trip to Vietnam. He is so savvy about cycling, finding accommodation and dealing with people that cycling with him has given me loads of tips on how-to and made me more relaxed travelling through Iran. I was even able to deal with someone exposing himself to me as he went by in the car because I could laugh it off with Tomasz.

We have camped wild and listened to wolves howling at night (quite a few of them and pretty close!). I just held my breath and hoped they would stay away. Amazing what courage a bit of canvas gives you. We also were warned about snakes in our last, urban, campsite - but saw none, thankfully.

We have stayed mostly with families in small villages. We turn up in a village in late afternoon, go to the shop or cycle around and usually get invited to stay in someone's house, where we are fed, watered, sometimes showered, given a room to sleep in with mattresses and blankets.

We travelled for the first couple of days up and over an incredible range of mountains! Breathtakingly dramatic, as much for the unexpectedness of them as for the rock formations themselves. Very cold, but no snow at our level. These were the hardest days for me, cos Tomasz has a habit of cadging lifts with slow-passing lorries on the uphills (one lift was for 15 kms!), which just leaves me struggling up under my own steam. The first time this happened was out of Shiraz. I thought I had seen the last of Tomasz and so resigned myself to going at my own pace. Then, lo and behold, ?2 hours later, there he was, at the top of another mountain, having waited an hour and 10 minutes for me! After that we continued to travel for the next 16 days. And, on the flats, we cycled well together. I have even cadged 3 lifts myself, with VERY amenable drivers.(Children, do NOT try this for yourself; it is EXTREMELY irresponsible and dangerous).

From Shiraz, we went towards Bushehr, but turned left before, as neither of us like big cities. We then followed the Persian Gulf down to BAndar Lengeh, via Kish Island, which is a bit like the Channel Islands: rich and tax free. We managed a discount on the ferry from Bandar Aftab; and whilst cycling past a diving centre, were given 10 minutes free on a jet ski. Now you'd think that if it is your first time on something, you might take it a bit easy at first to get a feel for it, especially if it had a bit of poke to it. Now so, madman Tomasz. He was in the driving seat; I was the counterbalance for the turns on the back seat. Straight out to sea we went, sharp turns left, right, left, right, ooops, no, straight then left again, and now let's turn all the way round and head straight for the shore; ooops, nearly up on the beach, but no, managed to serve away to go zigzagging out to sea again. And so on. I was hanging on for dear life and trying to anticipate which way we were turning. No we didn't capsize. For both of us it was the first time on a jet ski; for me it was also the last. :-) But great to have done it!

We also had free entry into Dolphin Park, camped free on the Women's Plage; and given free passage on the ferry to Bandar Lengeh the next day. If I'd not been with Tomasz, I would have experienced none of this.

We parted company yesterday morning, our 17th day; he to continue to Bam, Zahedan and Pakistan (presumably under police escort because of the troubles in that area); I to continue to Sharjah and the rest of the Emirates. We might meet up in India. It was hard parting, as you might imagine after travelling for so long together.

I bought my ferry ticket to Sharjah, at twice the price given on the internet and at a time that brings me in to Sharjah in time to cycle to Dubai in the dark, instead of early in the morning, as advertised on te internet! Great, eh!

I was taken in by a lovely family for last night and tonight. I sail to Sharjah at 10.30 in the morning. Salim and his large family have given me a great last impression of Iran and I am very glad for that.

My next news update is likely to be from Abu Dhabi, including a few photos.

9 January - Shiraz

On 6 January, it was 8 months to the day since I left home. I am now one third through my trip and I clocked up 6000 miles on that day. If I'd been near internet I'd have done an entry on the day, but didn't think it right to have done it retrospectively. :-)

The first week in Iran and I really wasn't enjoying it particularly, I have to say. Maybe it was something to do with being propositioned by the hotel manager the first night in Iran; being constantly sniggered at by groups of young men, as I go by in the street; being unable to receive text messages from anyone cos the Iranian simcard seems only to let me send out; being rejected in a village when I was looking for accommodation for the night, by the police, the mosque, the shop and the bus all saying cycle to the next town (65 kms away!), cos you can't stay here; as a consequence of which, I ended up back on the main highway, taking a lift in a lorry before nightfall, ostensibly to this next town, but ending up being abducted 300 kms further on. I did eventually manage to get the driver to stop at a town only 150 kms further on, where, surely, there would be accommodation! Suffice to say, there was none, that is, until some kind men brought me to the mosque and I was able to stay in one of the guest rooms there. I was tired and feverish, cos I have a chest infection. I hung on for 5 days hoping it would clear up itself, but eventually had to resort to my course of antibiotics I had with me. It is slowly clearing up now, but I am very chesty, not eating much and feeling a bit weak.

So, that's the negative. Now for the positive. As you know, there is good in every situation. As a result of my lorry trip, the day after, I met up with the young Polish guy, Tomascz, who had left Esfehan the day before me. Since we have been cycling together these last 4 or 5 days, I have relaxed more and we have had some friendly encounters and hospitality. I am hoping to be able to keep up with him at least for the next few days, as it is much nicer for me to be travelling with someone. We're just going to see how it works out. Tomorrow will be a day of mountains; up which he might easily cadge a lift holding onto a slow-moving lorry, but which I don't think I could do (although we did it with a very kind, slow car the other day) and so leave me going at my more sedate pace.

We arrived at Persepolis, in time to have just 1 hour to look around this ancient city before sunset. We camped in the grounds near the site behind a security fence and with security men there all night. It was freezing, but warm enough in the tent with my down jacket and sleeping bag, woollen socks and warm hat. With it being dark and cold early on, we were snug each in our own tents from about 7pm until 8am, having had cup-a-soup, a bit of bread, some cake and fruit for our supper.

Shiraz used to be the capital of Iran under Karim Khan (a long time ago). It has the biggest mosque in Iran. It is also a cultural centre for poets (Hafez being the father of Persian poetry).

Weather is warm in the sun, but very cold out of it, although no frost or ice.

New Year's Day 2009 - Esfehan, Iran

HAPPY NEW YEAR to all my readers!! :-)

Well, I spent a very quiet, sober New Year's Eve on a 16-hour bus trip from Orumiyeh to Esfehan. Leading up to midnight, I was listening to the City of Bristol Boys' Choir (particularly my son with his beautiful soprano voice - a few years ago now! Sorry to embarass you, my son); at 12 o'clock I opened a bottle of warm, flat Coke, whilst listening to Il Divo, followed by Madeleine Peyroux. So now you know a little of my musical tastes.

Since my last missive, I have been travelling by lorry, car, minibus, taxi and big bus (coach, I think I mean!); the weather has been bitter, snowy, icy and freezing. A bit like UK, by all accounts. I had to cycle at one point (cos 3 of the 4 lorries travelling in convoy one by one broke down!), but this was not a nice experience: icy and slippery and traffic hooting me off the clear single carriageway. I stopped at a little shop and ended being given a lift to the city of Van. But not without its little misunderstandings by the driver. One of my (very) few, slight incidents I am happy to forget.

Now, though, I am more southerly and so the climate is temperate. Up 'til now the only cycling in Iran has been to cycle from a hotel to a bus station and from a different bus station to a hostel. (don't say I don't experience variety on this trip!). Therefore, I have yet to see what it's like being on the road proper and to see how I fare. From the lofty heights of the coach, I am expecting it to be a little hairy: the hard shoulders do not look cycle-friendly and the driving leaves much to be desired.

I plan to stay two or three days here in Esfehan: to obtain a visa extension beyond the allotted 30 days; to clean my poor bike (it was stashed under the belly of the lorry for 24 hours; I'm surprised it's still talking to me); to see beautiful Esfehan and to get the feel of another new country.

There are 5 other cyclists in the hostel: a Pole and a Korean, each travelling solo and from their home countries; and 3 Slovenians cycling just for a week in Iran. Plus a Japanese backpacker.

I am wearing my buff on my head as my compulsory headcover, but not hiding all of my hair. Why? Because on the first day in Iran I noticed, to my utmost surprise, that many women did not cover ALL of their hair (unlike ALL other Moslem countries I've visited). I have been wearing my charity shop bargain dress as a tunic over my trousers, but today, the hostel manager said I was OK not to wear it. Well, well, knock me down with a feather. After all that's been said about strict dress and head code.

CHRISTMAS DAY - Diyarbakir, Turkey

I hope everyone is having a wonderful day. Thanks for the many Christmas greetings; they really mean a great deal to me.

I have enjoyed hugely cycling through Turkey. Again I have experienced warmth and hospitality with a family when there was no formal accommodation. I had been told there were both church and hotel accommodation in two towns, but this was not the case; not even pension-type. The light was fading. On the edge of a small village I made inquiries at a filling station and was directed to the house next door at which I asked if I could put up my tent in their garden. The upshot was, that, having put it up, I was invited into their cosy warm home, ate with them (sheep's-intestines-&-other-stuff soup! , but they kept giving me more!), drank loads of hot, sweet 'chay' (wonderful), and slept in their cosy warm home (having first gone to the freezing outdoor loo and washed hands and brushed teeth at the outside cold water tap - brrr).

A couple of days ago I spent the night at a school house and then ended up as a guest in four of the English classes ın the school. It was great; I really enjoyed it. Apparently, it was the first time that most of the children would have encountered a foreigner. It gave them the opportunity to realise that their textbook English actually had a use! I have to say that the national English course they have to follow is dreadful: it does not result in any conversational English at all. What a waste.

This part of Turkey is strongly Kurdish. Diyarbakir is a great place, despite the fact that, a few days ago, a car at the nearby military airport, was found full of explosives and kalashnikovs and that, yesterday evening, when I was walking back to the hotel, a couple of local rival gangs were shooting at each other in the street with real live guns!! At first I hadn't realised they were gunshots; I just thought they were firecrackers or something. Even when I did realise they were real gunshots and bullets I wasn't afraid, cos the local guy I was with was great; he was quite calm about it and we took it in our stride and just kept on walking. Even so, Diyarbakir is still a great place: Christians, Jews, Moslems live here very happily together. I've met some locals and it's been interesting and enjoyable talking with them.

I tried going to a Christmas service today: I went along to St Mary the Virgin Syrian Orthodox Church, but it was like no other service I had experienced. Apart from the fact that there was no order of service of any kind it was not even clear when the service itself started; there was no attempt by the priest to involve the congregation at all - he didn't even acknowledge we were there, even by a glance in our direction; and then, halfway through the service, about a dozen people suddenly entered with huge professional-looking film cameras and flashing still cameras walking round the church filming and taking pictures of everyone, as though there was no service going on. Fınally, to cap it all, when I was quietly sitting and praying and attempting to get something out of this Christmas Day service, a woman indicated to me that it was disrespectful to sit with my legs crossed. I gave up trying to suggest to her that, possibly, the cameras were rather more disrespectful but nobody seemed to be telling them to stop! By this stage I had had enough, put my shoes back on and walked out. So, the most Christmassy thing I did today from when I woke up at 6 o'clock excited to see what Father Christmas had brought me! [a pair of brightly-colourful, toe-ed socks and a 2009 diary :-) ], was listen to Handel's Messiah on my ipod and to wear my Christmas earrings I'd brought out with me from UK.

I have enjoyed the day. I Skyped my children in the morning and then my family later on. After which, a local guide I had met when I arrived on the 23rd showed me round the city: the city walls date back to somewhere BC; there are many churches and mosques and beautiful, stripey pashas (buildings), similar to those in Damascus; and the souks are always fun to visit (I learnt lots about knotted rugs and kilims. If anyone wants rugs at really good prices I can supply a contact number. :-)

14 December - Antıoch, Turkey

My first full day in Turkey. Brrr .... it is extremely cold. I thought I was going to suffer from exposure yesterday when I came over the pass from the border to Antakya (Antioch). And it ıs only going to become worse. I need to keep an open mınd that I might even have to resort to alternative transport, ıf conditions become too bad for me, eg. snow, ice, freezing rain. Yuk. The very thought is enough for me to go out and buy my bus ticket.

My last night ın Syria ended just as my first began: staying with a local family rather than in a hotel. This time I had gone to a large church I had seen in the distance, thinking there mıght be accommodation there. It was closed. But a woman and her 5 grandchildren came along to fine out if they could help. And, of course, offered me a bed for the night. Doesn't it just bring tears to your eyes?

The border crossing was easy peasy: about half-an-hour all told. But the ride to Antakya was not: uphill for half the way; dıffıcult, recently top-dressed, stony road surface; ıncredibly strong head/cross/cross-head wınds; freezıng aır (my fırst icy puddles). I wore my warm hat, together wıth my snood, and my full gloves for the first time. Even the downhılls had to be peddled. Most dispiriting.

Eventually, though, the easıer downhill came and then, on entering the town before Antioch, Harbiye, the road was suddenly smooth and, oh such easy cycling - a pleasure.

I found the Catholic Church and the pilgrim refuge. I am staying a couple of nights, as Antioch is significant from a Christian point of view, both Peter and Paul having spent time here. Antioch was the first place where followers of Christ were called Christians.

Hardly any English is spoken and so I need to learn some phrases to stay alive, metaphorically-speaking.

And now, to sign off this journal entry, a special greeting from Homs in Syria:

I WISH EVERYONE A HAPPY AND BLESSED CHRISTMAS 2008

9 December - Tartus, Syria

I had thought originally that I should have taken about a week to travel through Syria, but here I am, just over 2 weeks after coming over the border from Jordan (incidentally, I notched up 5000 miles/8000 kms that day), still with 2 or 3 days more before Turkey. Why? Well, because it has been so enjoyable and there have been too many good reasons to tarry and not hurry on straight away to the next port of call.

There are loads of Christian establishments in Syria. I have been staying mainly in monasteries or convents this last week, which has been really special.

Also, just like buses (none for ages and then 2 come along at the same time), I met 2 independent WALKERS on consecutive days. The first one was a Dutch guy , Jan, [don't they just get everywhere! :-) ], 6 months walking, on his way to Damascus and beyond, . We were both staying at this lovely convent between Damascus and Homs. On the morning we parted company, an hour or so later, I espied another walker with a backpack, who turned out to be Norwegian!!! He had been walking 7 months, also on his way to Damascus and beyond!!! We spent 2 1/2 hours by the roadside chatting and eating lunch. He carries a violin with him; and not much else by the looks of his backpack. Jan was the same; very impressive light travellers both. Christian, the Norsk guy, reckoned I was a "really cool woman" to be doing what I'm doing. I was chuffed.

I've stuck largely with the main highway, but occasionally struck off along country roads. A couple of days ago, I ended up going round in a big circle, coming back to the highway and passing the same junction I had come off just 24 hours earlier (another reason, perhaps, why it is taking me longer than originally planned to get through Syria .

I have had wonderful hospitality in Syria. But I also have had 2 rejections of help; both from monastic communities of St George!! But the 3rd encounter with St George redeemed his name. This was after the 2nd rejection and, in need of a bed for the night, I resorted to the St George Hotel over the road, as there did not seem to be anywhere else locally. They were very kind and friendly, gave me a hefty discount and included evening meal and breakfast, plus coffee and finger-of-the-bride biscuits the next morning with the sister and family of the hotel manager. I went back to the St George monastery (btw, it is located near Crac des Chevaliers) and said that it was not right that I was sent away with nowhere to go except the choice of a further 4 hours cycling to another monastery. It fell on deaf ears. But the priest did then mention a church 6 kilometres away at which I could have found accommodation!! I think I hope in vain that future travellers might have a different experience from me.

I spent 2 hours yesterday changing over to the new tyre I bought in Damascus. It is a much bulkier tyre and was pressing up against the mudguard. My bike multi-tool actually isn't it - I've hardly found anything on there that is useful - and so I borrowed an adjustable spanner from one of the 2 monks at the lovely Mar Elias monastery and was able to make enough room for the tyre to spin freely. I also had to adjust the brakes to stop a slight rubbing. It rained all day today and the monastery was on top of a very steep hill. Good timing, I say.

I'm still cycling in sandals, although some mornings in the mountains I have been wearing long (pink) socks as well until late morning when the air becomes warmer.