Monday, 06 December, 1999
Dear Friends,
Happy Christmas to you all, and greetings from Cambridge. I hope you have had an enjoyable 1999.
The great disappointment. As for me, this has been a most incredible year, though it started with a big upset. I was still teaching children English in Japan when I left for my Christmas vacation. I went up to Hokkaido to have my first ever White Christmas. I hitched round the island, enjoying the snow, and even hiring a pair of skis for a day - another first. Of course, I hadn’t a clue how to turn corners, so just fell backwards in the snow, lifted up my skis, placed them in the right direction, and struggled to stand up again! By the end, I’d figured out how to do it, and only fell once in the entire slide. I headed on to Mt. Fuji, and set off at 5 p.m. to climb to the top. It was a bright, moonlit night, though, at -15°C with a strong wind, bitterly cold. By 3 a.m., I was probably around 3000m, though I didn’t know at the time. The next signpost peeped out over the snow, and I was worried that I might not find the path to the top. I changed my mind, and returned. When I looked up in the morning, it was clear that the snow was only in the path, and if I had followed the snow, I would have got to the summit! I was extremely disappointed with myself.
A journey to make up. Returning to school, I found a letter waiting for me. The company had decided to make a number of teachers redundant, including me. For a while, I contemplated returning to computing, but then I felt I should explore the world, hitching home through some Asian countries with the motto: “In Search of Beauty.” I sold everything I possessed, sending only two boxes home. With the proceeds and some savings, I bought myself a second-hand IBM computer that had a 3-Gigabyte hard disk, and even found a second-hand Canon PowerShot Pro 70 - it had only been on the market for a month in Japan! I signed up for AT&T WorldNet, to give me internet access in the countries I would visit. My budget, since I had about 3000 US$, was set at no more than 10$ per day.
In toilets! Japan was great. I circled Mt. Fuji finding some nice photos that helped me forgive the mountain (or myself) for my initial failure. I had a great time up in the snowfields of Mt. Bandai, and visited many famous places. A budget of 10$ is barely enough for food in Japan. So, I usually slept outside, but when it was very cold, or wet, I found an invalid toilet (normal gents/ladies on either side) where I could kip until early morning without disturbing anyone. They are impeccably clean, and with a socket for me to recharge batteries and use my computer. Outside, I merely plug my modem cable into any public telephone, insert a card, and I could access the internet. I met many wonderful people on the way, was often treated to meals, taken to hot springs, put up in hotels (expenses paid) or invited in to homes. The kindness added a challenge to the photography - I felt I had to do my very best to find beautiful pictures.
Breakdown. The one prefecture (like an English county) I had yet to visit in Japan was the island of Okinawa. I took the ferry from Kagoshima. On the way, I figured I could use the time to catch up on some computing. However, I noticed that the battery wasn’t charging. One of the leads for the power adapter had broken. It was almost the end of my voyage. Still, I went to IBM in Naha. A gentleman took one look at the adapter, disappeared for a moment, and returned with a replacement. Just like that! No charge. It’s all part of the excellent Japanese service, preserving their reputation. I can tell no end of bad stories about British-bought computers.
Violently sick. By Taiwan, I found I was able to afford the bottom end of the budget hotels - about 5$ a night. I went all the way round the isl and, photographing temples, gorges, mountains, rocks and flowers. Again, many people were very kind to me, treating me to noodles that they would co ok on their own stoves, or paying for me to stay at a hot spring hotel. I even encountered an artist, who painted a picture of me while her friend drove. She later took me for a splendid Chinese meal. Since she doesn’t speak English, a friend translated. “I think she’s interested in you,” he hinted. Pity! I’m on a long journey. It was also pleasant to meet a friend from Cambridge. Back in Taipei, the night before I was flying on to Manila, I cooked up some noodles with poached eggs. Something disagreed with me, and I spent a painful evening getting rid of it all. It was the only real illness of my journey, barring a few rushed toilet trips.
Gold bullion bars for sale. I recuperated in Manila for a few days, just to be quite sure that my illness wasn’t serious. Then I set off to see the coral reefs around the hundred islands. Sadly, most have been destroyed by dynamite fishing, but one or two patches were beautiful. Up in the mountains around Banaue, the rice terraces have been tended for thousands of years. It rained most of the time I was there. On the way back to Manila, I met a gentleman who called himself a renegade soldier. He lived in the mountains with three hundred of his men, guarding three gold bullion bars, which the former President Marcos had accumulated. He wanted me to find a buyer for him! So, if you know anyone in need of illicitly gained bullion, I can tell you his phone number. Further south, I found it was impossible to hitch. I had to take the bus and ferries. That brought me into contact with a pleasant family on the island of Siquijor, where I spent one night. In every country except Italy, I was welcomed into someone’s house at least once.
Scaling a high peak. I set myself some challenges along the way. Mt. Kinabalu, in Sabah, the Borneo Island part of Malaysia, is 4105m. Being near the equator, it is not such a challenge as Mt. Fuji in the winter. Still, it’s my highest peak to date.
Mosques. Brunei, the tiny oil-rich sultanate on Borneo, was an interesting place. A strongly Muslim country, where it is illegal to sell alcohol, it has also built many beautiful mosques and palaces. Too many, says Jochen, whom I had the pleasure to meet, and with whom I spent several days. The government and royalty are spending more that they can earn from oil revenues.
Darkest Jungles. In Sarawak, Malaysia, I sought out a typical jungle scene. My vision was a small pool or stream, surrounded by thick vegetation, with the sun streaming in. Real jungle, though, is mostly a tangle of branches, tall trees that block out the light, leaves that try to spear you, and wildlife that can be heard but not seen. Consequently, I consider myself quite fortunate to have discovered the amazing palm leaf in Lambir Hills National Park. It is my favourite photo, since it represents the beauty of the natural world in its lush greenness. The digital camera itself is a “green” camera - not requiring any chemicals to process the film, and not altering the local environment. I do not have to pick flowers, or collect butterflies or insects. A photo will suffice.
Lost glasses. In Indonesia, I headed for Bali. The moment I arrived, I felt I was entering a photographer’s paradise. Every house had character, often with a small temple and carved walls. I enjoyed wandering round back streets to find unusual scenes. There were several festivals on while I was there. Though I took hundreds of photos, I wasn’t happy with them. I need to learn how to take photos of people. While hitching, I met two gentlemen who took me to a nearby temple. The monkeys were experts at stealing things. I had to be careful of my camera. However, I wasn’t prepared when one stole my glasses. A Balinese person retrieved them. I said thanks, and then offered to repay the cost of the peanuts. He wanted money for the glasses! No wonder the monkeys were so goo d at theft. I had a huge row with the monkey trainer.
Lost 50,000$. The same two gentlemen invited me to their house. It turned out they wanted me to participa te in a gambling game. At first, I refused, but since they started and had assured me the dealer would pay, I naively joined in. I signed for extra credit - up to 50,000 US$. Of course, it was a scam, to get me to participate in a real game with real money - my money. I only came to my senses when returning to the hotel to get some cash. I’d left my camera behind as “security” - but it “wasn’t included in the game.” Back at the house, having left even the little money I had in my hotel, I played my trump card. I had signed as “Reggie Thomson” but my passport said I was “Andrew Thomson.” They lost the gamble. I lost a day taking photos, and a lot of peace of mind.
A holiday. I climbed a volcano in Lombok and headed back to Bali. A “Temple Guardian” in Besakih temple, who insisted that I couldn’t go round the temple on a festival day unaccompanied, then tried to extort money (10$) for his services. He was bored because I spent a long time taking photos. I said I would pay him exactly what I had agreed when he met me - precisely nothing. Though he left me, he then stole a lady’s handbag and jumped over a wall. I gave chase, but a motorcycle waiting on the road. I needed a break after all this turmoil. I spent a week in Ubud. The weather was kind - it rained every day! I didn’t take out my camera, but spent the time on the computer, writing the diary, and even downloading some books from the internet - a lot cheaper and lighter than buying second-hand ones.
No shoes! I moved hotels to get away from some early morning building noises. As was my custom, I left my Nike trainers outside the door at night, rather than dirty the floor. The next morning, they had gone. The owner insisted that many people went past the front of the house, though I saw no one. I think it was an inside job. For a day, I hitched barefoot, but became so blistered that I had to buy some cheap flip-flops to continue. I refuse to reward a thieving country with the value of two pairs of shoes.
Home for poor children. I then returned to Java. On the way, I met a delightful family in Situbondo, near Surabaya. I stayed a week there, and met their English teacher. He took me to a compound for poor children, whose families couldn’t afford to keep them. They sent about 15,000 rupiah a month (2 US$), and the children had to grow their own food, and build their own houses. The teacher also gave them some lessons and taught them some skills.
A night in Raffles. I was fed up with Indonesia, so took a ferry from Jakarta to Singapore. I’d emailed some friends about visiting, but hadn’t heard from them. When I arrived, there was no answer to my phone calls. The best place to stay for the night would be Raffles Hotel. I spotted a gap in the bushes by the front wall, hopped over, and lay down for a few hours sleep! Only, it rained for about an hour. My raincoat and leggings kept me dry. Next day, I went to Doris and Chris’ apartment, where I stayed for two weeks. I was able to find a shop that could transfer all my photos onto a CD, and print out my new namecards with photos from the journey. I colour photocopied these, as well as some postcards. Singapore was my hi-tech stop. On several days, I managed to take some photos as well, though I didn’t quite get what I was looking for in a typical Raffles Hotel shot.
4,800 visitors. In Melaka, I had the good fortune to meet Ronald. He invited me to stay at his house. It seems his hobby is having people to stay, and I was the 4,800th guest since 1983! I felt highly honoured! Kuala Lumpur, the Cameron Highlands, and Penang were also on my list. In the latter, many rats scurried along the pavements at night.
Wooden legs. An immigration officer gave me a lift to his town when I got to the border. However, I hadn’t changed any money, and didn’t wish to slee p outside when I couldn’t see anything to photograph in the morning sunrise. I continued hitching. A lorry gave me a lift, but I grew suspicious when they stopped to buy something expensive. Since they mentioned th e word “amphetamine,” I jumped out of the cab. I was in the middle of nowhere, but was very grateful when another lorry took me up the road. Then the driver of a pick-up van said he could take me to Nakhon Si Thammarat. They put me up in their house, gave me a meal, and said they would take me in tomorrow. I noticed that one had a wooden leg - the victim of a landmine. It was very kind of them to look after me.
Smiling faces. Burma was the best country that I visited. Government regulations required me to fly in and on to Calcutta, so my budget was reduced to 6$ per day - just about manageable, though I had to forsake my ice-creams, chocolates and Coca-Colas. Everyone was friendly and helpful: when I asked where I could buy a single roll of toilet paper, I got an immediate answer; waiters in the restaurants would pick up a fork I had dropped accidentally, and return with a replacement; monks would chat, and show me round their monasteries. For a while, I never felt happier. Until - well, more later.
Enlightenment. India was noisy, smelly (cows and elephants do it anywhere) and hopelessly crowded. After a week with a runny constitution in Calcutta, I headed for Bodhgaya, where Buddha first received enlightenment. Unfortunately, the town was plunged into darkness due to a power cut. The renunciation of desire seems to be the ultimate enlightenment, though I couldn’t personally agree. “In Search of Beauty” requires a strong desire to seek it.
All for love. Further on, people bathed and drank the muddy waters of the “holy” Ganges, throwing cremated ashes in for good measure. Agra and the Taj Mahal were the highlight of the Asian journey. I spent a weekend there, and was blessed with wonderful weather. I was pleased I could find some photos that weren’t quite the standard tourist or postcard scenes, though several required a lot of processing afterwards to remove the bystanders. I felt an immense sense of satisfaction. In all, I took 444 photos of the Taj Mahal, and 7,200 altogether on the trip.
Bypassing danger. Scanning the internet in Delhi, I discovered that Pakistan and Iran were dangerous to travel through - not recommended at night, and some places requiring an armed guard. Turkey, too, had danger zones, and I would have had to pass through the earthquake region. Instead, I chose to fly on to Rome.
Nowhere to sleep. Hitching in most countries was fairly easy (except southern Philippines). In Italy, though, I calculated I progressed at a meagre 10kph. Still, I like Italy and its cultural heritage, and most of the time when hitchhiking, I spoke in Italian. It was also great to meet up with Riccardo and his wife, Piera, north of Pisa. I didn’t enjoy being chased away from my chosen sleeping spots at 1 a.m.
Rustic Swiss. I spent a very pleasant week in Switzerland with a friend, Rosmarie and her family. I was able to do lots of computing work, and decided not to visit the typical tourist areas, but just to walk round the countryside. It is a greater challenge to see beauty in the familiar and ordinary.
The artist is born. I have always enjoyed Paris. It is still my favourite city in the whole world. On the way there, I had the pleasure to meet one gentleman, who insisted on offering me hospitality for the night in a tiny village. With Riccard liqueur, wine and whisky, the conversation really rattled - and all in French. The next day, I also met a pleasant gentleman, Dominique, who invited me to stay two nights with his family in Paris. I enjoyed the challenge of finding the beauty in that wonderful city. In the evening, Isabelle declared, “Ah, you are an Artist.” I have always considered myself a scientist. Perhaps the French have a greater appreciation of art. Certainly, I found that most were pleased t o receive a postcard or namecard with one of my photos.
Family reunions. I hitched on to visit my sister, Fiona, in Douarnenez, on the northwest coast of France. It was nice to be treated to a delicious ratatouille, since Fiona is now vegetari an. From there, I went to Guernsey for a surprise visit to my Auntie Rachel and cousin Naomi. It was so nice to sit in front of a warm, log fire and chat. Meanwhile, most of the family got in touch to arrange the next part of my adventure. An overnight ferry took me to Portsmouth, where I was picked up by my sister, Rona and her husband, Tony. I spent a weekend with them, and managed to put all my photos since Singapore onto three CDs. We went together to Heathrow, where I met up with mum and dad. They were flying on to the Galapagos Islands the next day. It was great to see them, and my brother, Hamish. He drove me home to Cambridge, to stay in my house. I also have a new lodger - my nephew, Timothy.
Lasting impressions. One of the deepest impressions from this year of travelling, is the incredible beauty of our world. I don’t even think that the photos do justice to the beauty. Sometimes I asked myself: “Can’t you see the beauty?” It must be in there, waiting to be discovered, if only I had the eyes to see it. Also, our cultural heritage is quite remarkable, and mostly well preserved. Perhaps the World Cultural Heritage is to be praised for recognising places of importance to safeguard for future generations.
Why hitch? Many of the countries I was passing through were very poor. People couldn’t understand why I would hitch, when public transport was so cheap. Well, hitching has been a hobby for almost 20 years, and in Japan, I found I could hitch anywhere I wanted. Moreover, I always meet the kindest people. In Japan, almost everyone bought me drinks, or treated me to meals. Though on a tight budget, every kind gift was most appreciated. Even in a poor country, like India, I was offered food - from people whose daily income was probably less than my budget. It added to the challenge to repay my debt by finding the best photos possible to show the beauty of every country. It was also a great way to meet people. I consider I have many more friends thanks to the hitching.
Going digital. The digital camera and the computer were an essential part of this project. With the digital camera, I could take many pictures for no expense, storing them on the hard disk. There, I would select my favourites, compress them and put them in a suitable format for my homepage. The computer has a built-in modem, and with AT&T WorldNet, I could connect almost anywhere in the world. Sometimes it was cheaper to go to an internet cafe, and ask if I could use their connection with my computer. Instead of carting heavy diaries, I typed onto the homepage. Each week, I had to stop about one day in seven to catch up, a useful break from the photography or travelling. Once every three or four weeks, I sent out a general email to a group of friends, with news about where I was. It was great to keep in touch. I felt as though I wasn’t travelling alone, but that I was the eyes for all my friends, attempting to find the beauty everywhere I went.
A great tragedy. Up until now, you’re probably thinking that this has been the best year of my life. In a way, it’s true. However, increasingly I have become aware of a great tragedy - I am going blind. Indeed, in some ways I have been blind from birth without realising it. Brought up in a comfortable home, surrounded by friends, family, and the trappings of wealth, I have never noticed or cared for the troubles of other parts of the world.
Blind to litter. Even in Japan, the litter was disappointing. Many famous places are quite tidy, but small, out-of-the-way areas can still be polluted. I suppose there is no shame for actions which nobody sees. With the aim “In Search of Beauty,” I began to realise how wonderful our world is. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to “Just Pick It Up.” I made the excuse that it would just be a drop in the ocean. Also, when I photographed massive, impressive buildings in Japan, I reckoned that there was probably an ugly scar somewhere else in the world, where the stones had been quarried. I didn’t go in search of ugliness.
Blind to poverty. In the Philippines, my beard and hair meant that I was highly noticeable. Not so the poor, who sit by the edges of the roads. They have to cry out for attention. Sometimes I walked on the other side of the road, so they couldn’t touch me. All my life, I’ve been walking on the other side of a wide road, unable and unwilling to see the pitiful state of others. I think Jesus got the ratios wrong in the story of the Good Samaritan. I don’t think one in three stops to help someone in need, and the road is far wider. Again in the Philippines, I came across a young man trying to sell me cassettes in Matnog, southern Luzon. He had a mere dozen in his hands. I explained that I didn’t need tapes. “Please buy one. I haven’t eaten today.” This isn’t someone trying to shirk work, but his work is of little value.
Blind to corruption. Corruption seems to reach from the top to the very bottom of society in Indonesia. Prices are only fixed for those who know the normal fare. Otherwise, they are bumped up ten, twenty, even a hundred times, in the hope that you are foolish enough to accept. Most Indonesians seem to blame the western world for their own problems. I’m not sure I would care to help such people, though through hitching I met many kind people.
Blind to personal temper. Yes, it’s awkward to admit my own failings, but I regret to say that in Bangkok, in an argument with a hotel owner about a room with a socket that didn’t work, I slapped her for being rude. I was dragged to the police, and ended up paying a fine, a medical check-up fee, and some compensation, even though I had apologised. When I left the police station, one officer remarked, “We are not barbarians!”
Blind to government control. Though I have said that Myanmar (Burma) was the best country I visited, it was tainted by encounters with the police and army (I’m not sure there is any difference.) Since I was hitching at night, they continually spied on me. At first, I gave my details and showed my passport, but then I became fed up. Once I had to walk all night. The next morning, I was caught by the police. I co-operated, giving my details. However, they didn’t inform their spies at the end of the town. Again, I was accosted. This time I refused, saying they could ask the previous group. I ended up getting arrested and all my belongings were photographed. Even then, they wanted to take me to the bus stop. “If I go to the bus stop, I am a mere puppet. Is that what you want me to tell my friends?” They let me hitch, but the first lorry to stop had a soldier inside. Clearly, they treat the population as mere puppets, and cannot comprehend freedom. It is embarrassing to meet people who have power, but no respect, and power without authority. Yet, I saw many rainbows in Myanmar. Perhaps they are a sign of hope for an oppressed people.
Blind to disease and overpopulation. India is hopelessly overcrowded. I also saw a man with boils all over his body, a man with a grossly inflamed foot, and children who couldn’t walk. In Myanmar, there was the leprous lady on the railway bridge in Mandalay, while in the Philippines, a pockmarked lady sat by the roadside in Zamboanga. What dignity is there to be rejected by humanity and reduced to begging?
Blind to sin. Though all these problems are pressing, I was not prepared for the shock when I returned to England. The pastor in the church I worshipped at for twelve years, far from “coming out of the closet,” has run away from his family and his Christian ministry. I do not know why people should choose death, for all sin leads to death. I know that salvation is possible only through a sacrificial death. I am distressed that my culture should make running away more acceptable than repentance.
The future. I don’t know what the future holds. As I walk the streets of Cambridge, I imagine them full of the dirt, disease and poverty of another culture. This is what I close my eyes to. Perhaps I could take a photo of a Cambridge street, and return to India, to superimpose all that we are blind to. Perhaps I should improve my teaching and internet skills, staying for a while in Cambridge. Perhaps I should sell everything and give to ” the poor.” At present, I do not know which way to turn.
Much more could be said, but space remains only for me to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and a Wonderful Millennium. May God pour his Grace upon you, and give you His Peace.
Cheers,
Reggie