"There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again."
—President George W. Bush, Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002

Watch the video of this amazing speech

October 28th, 2005 - I changed the authored on date so it will stay on the main page for longer
Today I visited the embassy for The Islamic Rebulic of Iran here in New Dehli. It was slated to open at 9:00 A.M. but the staff didn't start arriving at the massive compound until about 9:30 and I wasn't allowed in until almost 10:00. Inside the lavish visa section, and behind an inch of bullet-proof glass, the staff were playing hide-and-seek with me - they hid around the corner and I stood at the marble counter trying to get their attention in order to secure an application form. While collecting the application forms I began to ask questions concerning Iran and the tourist visa which I was applying for: how much would the visa cost?; how many photos do they need?; how long will it take to process?; why the fuck would a President make a comment so ludicrous as, oh, I don't know - "Israel should be wiped off the map!"- at a time when the country they represent needs all the friends it can get? Okay, I didn't think it wise to pose that last question so I refrained from asking it.

"I'd like to apply for a tourist visa, how long will it take to process?"
"It will take about two months."
"Excuse me? Why would it take that long?"
"Because your application must be sent to Tehran for approval by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
Okay, good answer

I took the forms anyways, filled them out in duplicate, and waited for the visa official to return. I was hoping to explain my situation to him and hopefully he'd see what he could do speed things up. You know, play the part of some poor kid cycling halfway around the world who can't afford to wait around in India for two months just to secure a visa. When he returned I gave him my sob story, asking for his help to do whatever possible to speed things up. He didn't even flinch. I had to switch tactics, maybe he can't give me a two month tourist visa, but I knew that he DID have the power to issue a two week transit visa which I could (hopefully) extend once in Iran. He totally denied that he was able to issue any transit visa without my application being approved by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tehran. I didn't believe him, I am sure that I have read on the MFA website that visa staff at individual Iranian embassies around the world had the power to issue transit visa in a day or two. While remaing calm, I pressed the situation telling him that I knew he had the authority to issue me a transit visa. He steadfastly denied my accusations, then disappeared and I was left standing in the lobby staring up at some Iranian childrens show on the pair of new plasma televisions in the corners of the room.

What to do? What to do?
Try and bribe him with cigarettes? No, we're not in China anymore. Start crying? Maybe he can be rendered defensiveless from the tears of a foreigner....
What to do? What to do?

There's no way in hell I'm waiting around in India for another two months. My money is already dwindling down faster than I had planned, and holding off for two months means that I'd be cycling across Iran in the dead of winter, something that I'd rather not do.

I haven't been home to Canada in over 2 years, and even then I only spent 2 months there, I'm thinking that I may but this trip on hold for the time being and go and see my family and friends... I feel so committed to finishing this trip and I will, but just not this year.

Almost 10,000 km on a bicycle across 10 countries, I'm happy with that, I think I'll put this on hold and call it a year. I hope y'all don't hold it aginst me... How did you spend 2005?

Yesterday, on October 29th, I turned 23 years old. Yesterday was also the day that terrorists attacked Dehli. Three bombs rocked the capital of India - 2 were placed in crowded markets and the third was found on a bus. At 5:30 PM I left my hotel and began walking down the road to get a drink. I am staying in Pharganj, a congested area right next to New Dehli Train Station (one of the busiest in the country). I didn't get very far from my hotel when I witnessed a large bomb blast, no more than 100m infront of me, which stopped me in my tracks. I knew what it was but I didn't really want to believe it. I was hoping that it was just a fireworks accident (there is a large festival in a few days), but I knew it was no accident. I stood back in wonder as hundreds of people raced past me, trying to get as far away from the blast site as possible. Next, the people in the blood-stained clothing and gaping wounds came limping past me...

I'm okay, you're okay, that's all that matters. There's alot more to tell in all this but I gotta save something for the book!

An outfit linked to the Pakistani-based militant organization, Lashker-e-Taiban (LeT), has claimed responsibility for the attacks which left over 60 dead and 210 injured.

I just wanted to go and get a beer, and about two hours after the blast I finally got one. When something like this happens you cannot run and hide, for that is exactly what terrorists hope to accomplish - to instill fear in you.

"To die will be an awfully big adventure."
- Aristotle

My Pakistani visa was suprisingly easy to obtain, but ridicously expensive. It cost around $75 US, not to mention the "Letter of reccomendation" from the Canadian Embassy which cost me 1800 rupees ($1US = 45 Rupees). The fact that they are charging 1800 rupees for this little fucking piece of paper, that the American embassy is handing out for free, absolutely blew my mind. Where do they get off charging 1800 Rs to help a citizen of the country that they are representing - the daily wage of a labourer in India is around 50 rupees. Fifty rupees for a day of sweat-your-balls-off physical labour, but 1800 rupees for a single sheet of paper with my name, passport details and the words "...any help you can give him would be appreciated." It is so out of porpotion it is not even funny. Hell, the letterhead was not even embossed... Once I coughed up all that money the visa was issued in a couple of hours - too easy. I only hope my Iranian visa will come as easy, but I have my doubts on that.

"Aashiyan apna loota apn nazar ke saamne,
Ho ke beghar khada apne ghar ke saamne."
(My beautiful world crashed before my very eyes,
I stand homeless outside my own home.)

For my first week back in the saddle after a considerable time out of it, I had a very eventful 7 days. To start from the beginning - I got very ill, practically on my death bed, but I had cable TV and room service so I managed to pull through. Once that was all cleared up and I hit the pot-holed Indian roads again; I got into an accident with another bike; spent a night camping at a petrol station while 30 people peered in my tent at me; had an interview with a journalist about my trip and saw the famous "Kama Sutra" temples of Khajaraho.

I'm currently in Khajuraho, visiting the temples dating back to 1000 AD. The state of preservation that these temples are in is absolutely mind-blowing, they are near perfect. The temples are adorned with sculptures of gods, scenes from everyday life, but more than anything else - women and sex. It's sort of a Kama Sutra in stone. Khajuraho is quite isolated up on a high plateau which probably saved the sandstone "pin-up girls" from destruction unleashed by invaders. I've seen hundreds of temples and I would say that without a doubt the temples of Khajuraho are the best I have seen. Many say it's the finest temple art in the world. The level of preservation and attention to detail totally surpasses that of any other temples I have visited.

Today the "Daihy Bhaska" newspaper featured an article about me and my trip. If you get a chance (and can read Hindi), pick up a copy and enjoy the half page spread on page 6. No, it's not at the top of page 6, it's at the bottom, but you gotta start somewhere!

"Fall seven times, stand up eight."
-Japanese proverb

I got my bike back today. I couldn't believe it when I walked downstairs and the owner of my guesthouse told me that it was waiting for me at the train station. Good news! It's time to move on.

"He who has hope has everything."
-Arabian Proverb

Today I did the unthinkable - I looked at a bunch of online air ticketing companies. Where am I thinking of flying to? you ask. I'll tell you, I was looking at flights home, to Manitoba, Canada. I've been thinking about what I shall do if my cycle does not arrive and the idea of putting an end to this trip actually crossed my mind. As I was looking at ticket prices I was listening to a radio station from home,Power 97 , via streaming audio - and the weather report said it was something like 2 degrees and snowing. That made me shiver but the idea of seeing my family and friends really excites me. I haven't been to Canada in over 2 years, it's been 26 months since I've seen anyone in my family, and even when I was home last it was only for 2 months.

This seemed strange to me because I don't usually get homesick. For me, homesickness is when you've been home to long and you are itching to get back on the hard roads.

Where is my bicycle?

"Remember sadness is always temporary. This, too, shall pass."
-Chuck T. Falcon

I couldn't sleep last night, or the night before that. I'm turing into a crazy person, wandering around like a angry zombie, suggesting to complete strangers that they should go and fornicate with an iron stick. Where's my bike?

"What is the good of having a nice house without a decent planet to put it on?"
- Henry David Thoreau

Where's my bike man? I'm still thinking positive but what's the hold up? Why is it taking so long? I must occupy my time better, I must stop thinking about it.

"True peace is not merely the absence of tension, it is the presence of Justice."
- Martin Luther King

The Sri Lankan vacation is over and I am back in North India, awaiting the arrival of my bicycle so I can get on with this trip. I recieved my new bottom bracket in the mail and as an awesome gesture of support, Alian of Iron-Man Bikes in Ilan, Taiwan, has donated the part to my trip, not wanting any financial compensation. Take a cue from this kind man - make a donation to CNIB.

I flew back into Sotuh India from COlombo, Sri Lanka nd then raced to the train station in an old taxi only to miss the next direct 40 hour train to Varanasi. I managed to secure a seat on a different train the next day in order to cover the two thousand and some odd km back up north to where I had left off. My bicycle, however, was not going on the same train as me. It is now in the hands of Indian Railways, the world's largest empoyer with over 1.6 million workers. It (my bike) was supposed to arrive here a few days ago, but it didn't. I've been told that it had hitched a ride to the end of the line and is now on it's way back to me. As hectic as most of the train stations are in India, I have faith in Indian Railways and that it will come back to me. If you love something, set it free...Can that really apply to a hunk of steel and 2 wheels? Sort of, but it's more like "don't sweat the small stuff." You cannot spend time worrying about circumstances beyond your control.

Here's a crude map and sketch of my route.

"May I please see a menu?"
"No menu." There was a brief silence before he continuted. "Tsunami," he paused mid-sentance and placed his hands together and then quickly seperated them, throwing his hands to either side as if clearing a table. He then finished what he was saying by adding "everything." I later learnt that construction was finished on his restaurant/home in April, 4 months after the December 26th Tsunami ravaged South Asia. It was now September with still no menus in sight.

After I finished my meal, the owner - whose name I cannot recall - came and sat down, stole one of my cigarette (halep yourself, mate)and laid into his sales pitch. It was so blatantly obvious right from the get-go, you could tell that their was going to be a request for me to pay one of his bills or to buy him a frying pan. In the end it turned out that he wanted me to loan him some money or go into buisness with him, it was impossible to discern which. He wanted to build some bungalows out back of his restaurant, only a few feet from the beach. All he needed was $5000 US.

The previous morning Hakeem, the Muslim roti seller down the road, had told me his story about what he lost in the Tsunami. He handed me a pair of photo albums to look through, they contained pictures of the devistation, taken a day after the incident. Aruguam Bay, on Sri Lankas east coast, suffered massive devistation from the Tsunami that swept across the Indian Ocean. Lives were lost, homes and buisnesses were rippied from their foundations, drinking wells were contaminated - some lost more than others. Hakeem lost a brother, sister and some nieces and nephews in the natural disaster, but his wife and children escaped with their lives and the clothes on their back - nothing more. Everything else was washed away.

Hakeem is now renting a small house that he has turned into a restaurant and on the surface it would appear that he is back on his feet, but if you dig down a bit, you will discover that he is barely standing. Before the Tsunami he would serve around 30 travellers for breakfast, now he's lucky to have 5 people come in and eat his delicious banana rotis. Hakeem isn't sure he'll be able to pay all his bills this month. He didn't ask for it but I gave him my advice anyways. I simply stated the obvious, the tourist to restaurant ratio here is about 3:1 and the surfing season is coming to an end shortly so there will be even less customers come November. Sure, people will eventually start returning in greater number than present, but will they ever reach the volume that was there pre-tsunami? Now, with the assassination of the foreign minister on August 13 and a State of Emergency declared, people will be even more reluctant to visit the teardrop shaped island that is Sri Lanka.

Hakeem doesn't seem to notice all of this, or maybe he just chooses not to. To me, he seems like a desperate man, comparable to a drunk wanting "just one more drink" after the bar is already closed. He thinks that if can get all his bills payed and keep things open for another month, things will turn around. When he pulled out his electricty bill he didn't come out and say it, but his eyes and facial expressions spoke louder than words - don't you want to help me?
But I can't, I couldn't.

This bike ride of mine is supposed to be from Singapore to England, but as you can see, I'm now in Sri Lanka and if you know your geography it's obvious that I've deviated from my route. I left my trailer and most of my gear in North India and took a rather pleasant 41 hour train ride (with my bike) down south, from where caught a flight to Sri Lanka to visit a Taiwanese friend whom I had worked with at a school in Taiwan.

I'll be in Sri Lanka for all of September and it is going to be a little bit of a vacation for me - see a friend, relax a bit, wait for a new bottom bracket to arrive and wait for things to cool down a bit before pedalling across the desert in Pakistan. It's not going to be all sit on the beach sipping on cocktails though. I would like to ride around a good chunk of this tropical island, and given the fact that it's only about the size of Ireland, I should be able to see a lot of this place and still be able to spend some time relaxing.

"Life is like a butterfly, you can either chase it, or let it come to you."

I know the entries for August have been quite thin on the ground - I appologize. But I have just uploaded an insane amount of pictures, even those from as far back as Tibet.

I was planning on riding through West Nepal to get to India, but with the civil unrest going on in Nepal I decieded against it. Even though the Maoists have repeatedly stated that they were not targeting tourists, there have been incidents involving trekkers where they have demanded money to cross Maoist-held territory and there is always the ever-present risk of being caught in the cross-fire of the battling army and Maoist insurgents. It's funny, just a few months back I would have said bring it on bitch, and pedalled right across the country regardless of the warning signs. But lately I've been looking further ahead at life and the decisions I make, looking a year ahead instead of my usual day or two.

Crossing the border from Nepal into India was relatively painless but quite unorganized. It was pouring rain when I departed Nepal, a fitting end to my Nepalese ride and that's exactly how I'll remember that country (not a bad thing). Inside Nepali immigration a couple of Italians were arguing with an officer over wether or not they could pay with Euros, meanwhile another 5 officials sat around doing nothing - I was made to wait for the officer that was dealing with the Italians. No wait, that is how I'll remeber Nepal. A country full of problems and everyone just sitting around not doing a whole lot to make changes, waiting for a solution to fall from the sky and knock their King out of power and reinstate democracy. On the Indian side the immigration process took place on a couple of rickety old tables placed under a rain canopy by the side of the road. In front of the tables was an enormous puddle of dirty rain water mixed with garbage, cow shit and a full array of all the other wonderous things that line the streets of India. You couldn't avoid the puddle if you were visiting immigratiom. WHile I was answering a barrage of questions from one of the officers who was quite interested in my trip, life on the stretch of no-man's land seperating the two countries carried on as usual. Bicycle rickshaws carted people, animals and goods across the border, over-loaded trucks squeezed through over-crowded streets, cows stood and watched the world go by, groups of men sat around drinking chai, while the women were busy with all the chores.

"I don't care what you say about me, but make sure you spell my name right."
- P.T. Barnum

This story is entirely unrelated to the previous one.

How you look at things. Is your bowl of rice half empty of half full (sorry for the rice comparisson, I've been in Asia too long...or not long eough)?

A few inches to the right or left and, respectively, I could have come away without a scratch or I could have been killed .

The line I chose going past the 80M cliff took me down the middle of the road through a dip-down section of rough concrete (instead of the usual asphalt) which aides in the run-off of water from the cliff in the peak of the monsoon season. While I was barrelling through the dip at 30 km/h an Andre the Giant fist sized, pointy rock came plunging downward into my field of vision a few feet infront of me. The next thing I knew, it had smoked me in the shin and then bounced back up to hit the bottom of my pedal.

I swerved wildly and my trailer bounced (from the sudden return to downhill after the tiop of the drainage dip) causing my 2 litre water bottle, that had been loosely inserted into a bottle cage on the rear of my trailer, to hop out. I skidded to a halt - grasped my bleeding shin and shouted aloud in pain - and paused to watch another large stone fall from high above as well as to observe my bottle skid along the downhill section of tarmac. I was feeling quite relieved that it wasn't me who was grinding against the bitumen like a tin can behind a newlywed's car.

That was close.
How did that happen?

Natural rockfall? Not likely. Considering that the sope of the cliff, blasted out from the side of the mountain to make way for a road, was at an agnle at least 15 degrees away from vertical (away from the road). There is no way that it would have fallen so far away from the cliff to end up in the middle of the road. If it had fallen naturally it wold have bounced againest the cliff, fallen a bit, bounced again, fallen some more, etc. etc.

Maoist sabotage? Possible. This 35km section of road had been blocked and "boobytrapped" by Maoists a week ago, and was only cleared for travel 2 days ago. I had read that the road was boobytrapped, but I wasn't exactly sure what that implied. Was this it?

Kids being little brats? Maybe, but I didn't want to believe it. Most children in Nepal have been very polite, calling me Sir and asking me questions in perfect English with cute sub-continent accent. But some children have been really bad in this country - throwing rocks, begging, trying to steal things off the back of my bike. Not all kids, just the uneducated ones in small villages who don't attend school. But to do something as sadastic as hurl a boulder off a cliff at someone? You'd have to be one twisted kid to do that. That's "Lord of the Flies" kinda shit.

The forth possible scenario is that of a farmer, up at the top of the cliff collecting vegetation. I can't say he was picking his crops, because he wasn't. You see it all the time, they are just collecting big bundles of greenery, I think they feed it to their sacred cows. I contined around the bend in the road until it came back around and I was affored a clear vantage point of the area. I stood and watched for 10 minutes, there was definitely someone up there.

Perspective - a way of regarding situations or topics etc

How do you view the world and the events unfolding daily? Are they liberating Iraq or just causing unnecessary bloodshed? Was I extremely unfortunate to have been in the way of the rockfall at that exact mili-second, or was I really lucky in the fact that I wasn't a further six inches to the left?

"Too often travel, instead of broadening the mind, merely lengthens the conversation."
- Elizabeth Drew

I left the scene of the accident, hands and arms dripping with anothers' blood, shaking my head in disbelief. Why didn't I do something more? Why didn't someone else try and help?

The next few hours were horrible, I continued to beat myself up over the incident until, while sitting and smoking in the corner on the concrete floor of my crummy hotel room, I finally convinced myself that there was nothing that I could have done to help the situation. Whether or not that is 100% true is open to speculation, but it doesn't matter what you think, you weren't there and don't fully know all the circumstances surrounding the event in question. Even I do not fully understand the entire situation or all the cultural considerations that must be taken into account.

It was supposed to be a good day, I was finally leaving Kathmandu. Right from my arrival in the valley that is Kathmandu, things weren't exactly perfect- heavy rains, check points, traffic, sickness, annoying touts and government bureaucracy plagued me during my stay. I needed a long rest after my ride from Lhasa, especially so considering I rode the last 480KM with two bikes, but soon after arriving in the capital of Nepal I turned ill. Standing in line at the Indian Embassy for over 2 hours with a bad case of the runs is not a pleasant experience, I thought I had dysentery but then realized that it was most likely bacterial diarrhea. It was cleared up with the antibiotic Ciprofloxacin. About 4 years ago I had purchased some of the same stuff in Canada, I had needed a prescription and the medicine had cost around $20, nevermind what the visit to the doctor had cost. Here in Nepal, I just walked down the alley, dodging the massive pot-holes filled with water, and into a convience store where I found some Cipro next to the Tiger Balm and above the condoms. It was less than $2. When traveling in third world Asian countries, you can usually find most medicines are readily available for a fraction of what you would pay in the west, and without a prescription. But beware of the knock-offs and check the expiration dates - and of course, self-diagnosis can be danger and is not a substitute for sound medical advice blah blah blah. In Tibet I contracted Giardia and then bacterial diarrhea in Nepal, if this trend continues it means (drumroll please - dun dun da da dun dun) I'll get Amoebic dysentery in India! I'm just glad I've managed to fend off the insect-borne diseases like malaria and dengue fever. See, you've always got something to be happy about if you look hard enough.

But that's all over now, I managed to put some weight back on and thankfully I can no longer count my ribs just by looking at my chest. My bike was all packed up and I had a very early start in order to complete the hilly 110km stretch with no accommadation (I've decided no to camp while in Nepal due to the current situation involving the Maoists). Climbing up and out of the Kathmandu valley I had the front of my shirt bunched up over my mouth in an attempt to keep from breathing in the ever-present exhaust from the steady stream of buses and trucks. Forget bottled oxygen on Everest, I coulda used some of that stuff during my escape from Kathmandu.

The other side of Kathmandu valley.

After breakfast, on a 10 km downhill, I ran into this mad-Indian cyclist who was pushing his bike up the hill that I had the pleasure of riding down. I had read an article in the paper the week before and I had hoped that I would see him on the road somewhere. And spot him I did! It was impossible to miss him and his massive 107 kg, single speed bike, which was loaded down with gigantic flags protruding from every available spot.

Click on the thumbnail to view the full sized version.

He is riding around the sub-continent for peace. With no shoes and a huge smile on his face he had been cycling for the past 3 years around India and had just entered Nepal the previous week. The energy and positive vibes that this guy was giving off were phenomenal. I'm not one to usually talk about that kind of stuff but I feel it must be mentioned, a freakin' brick wall could pick up on the peacefulness and positivity that was radiating from him. We did a quick photo shoot, he tried riding my bike and I tried pushing his up the hill, which I couldn't accomplish. Afterwards, we sat down, ate some biscuits and he started talking to me in Hindi and I to him in English, even though I don't understand a single word of Hindi and he didn't know any English. I departed in high spirits. "What a great day!" I thought. I'm on the open road, the sun is out, and to top it off - I'm going downhill.

Around half eleven, drenched in sweat and overcome with feelings of hunger and thirst, I stopped near a small waterfall and had a lunch of dry muesli and granola while reading a pocket sized "Wilderness Survival Guide" that I had picked up at a bookshop in Kathmandu. In particular, I was reading the chapter on mouth-to-mouth rescue breathing and CPR, my memory of the exact steps involved was a little foggy considering it has been over 5 years since I took a First Aid/CPR course. I believe my sub-conscious was taking the dangerous road conditions into account and telling myself that I should be thinking more about safety. It was right...

To Be Continued...I don't have the time (that's a lie), I don't have the patience to continue typing this all out at this moment. I'll paste the rest of this story up later.