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.