Buffalo (upstate New York!) and Niagara Falls!

**Coming soon... maybe**

Washington, New York, Boston, and Montreal!

It seemed fitting to start out wee expedition in the same place the wee nation of America houses it's great leaders.

Washington DC was hot, very very hot. Upon out arrival at the 'hotel' I'd booked only a week earlier, the only requirement we held as a must was that it possessed air conditioning. More important than electric lights, more important than four walls and a roof was the importance that our humble dwelling provided air of the conditioned variety! Not only was conditioned air present, but the presence of all the other above mentioned luxuries was noted aswell, great success!

Aside from having devices for the conditioning of air, Washington DC (which stands for District of Columbia by the way, not to be confused with the Spanish speaking South American country, there's regularly huddles of confused drug cartel folk at the airport wondering where it all went wrong!) has one of the largest collections of free museums and galleries in the world. Which is nice when your trying to work on a very strict budget, a strict budget we didn't let on about when we went for a drink at one the capitols most prestigious cigar bars, frequented by Senitors, Congressmen, and NBC weathermen alike! We played the English card an got treated like we owned a yacht or two each, little did they know that not only did we not own any fancy boats, but i get sea sick so any nautical purchases on my part would most likely only stretch to a lylo, maybe a double lylo if im feeling particularly affluent! Anyway, after explaining that just because we have English accents doesn't mean we know the Queen or David Beckham, we left Washington, left the White House, Captiol Hill, the Lincoln, Washington, and Roosevelt Memorials, left the Roosevelt Lake with its peddalos, left the Hard Rock Cafe and the live Estelle performance we saw, left DC and headed towards NYC instead!

I've been to New York before, been to the sights, seen the lights, and listened to the arrogance of some American shites, but I still managed to get captivated once again by the sheer size of everything, the hustle and the continual bustle. If you ignore some of the more self-important New Yorkers then this marvellous city would never get old, never fail to impress, and forever turn up new offerings to all who travel to her. As for our little quartet of wiery wanderers we found many a wonder to keep us out of trouble during our brief stay amoungst the trials and tribulations of the Big Apple.

Between spending our evenings getting nose bleeds by popping up the extremely high Rockefeller Tower to stare in awe at the spectacular New York skyline as it glistened and twinkled in the moon light glow, and taking tours in the ever present double decker, open topped buses over the bridge and into Brooklyn, we also found time to take in one of the famous Broadway productions. Our show of choice was none other than the multi-award winning Monty Python spinoff, Spamalot! Spamalot is immensly funny, full of all the gags and turns of phrase that made the TV show and the films so very successful. From the Eric Idol inspired depiction of old England, to the in no way steriotypical portrayal of miming, beret wearing, baguette wielding Frenchmen, I don't believe that any demograph was safe from ridicule, yet all seemed to enjoy the humour and my sides appear to have only just recovered from splitting so much!

During our 4 nights in Manhatten we slept in 3 different hostels (one of which was in the notorious Harlem nieghbourhood!) due to a series of cock-ups by the hostels in question, and no amount of artistry or colourful language with the pen could truely do justice to how much of a royal fiasco the whole affair turned out to be, so just know that things didn't go to plan and we all went a tad greyer because of it. On a plus note though, we got a couple of nights free accomodation which was a definate Brucey bonus for the budget!

From the ornate and exquisitely presented Grand Central Station we left the city that never sleeps and rode an Amtrak train up the East Coast to the historic city of Boston!

I didn't know a great deal about Boston prior to our visit. I was ignorant to the importance that this little Atlantic port had played during the War for Independence in the late 1700's. Nothing more notable than the now imfamous Boston tea party! Upon hearing about this little event of 1773 I was excited and buzzing with anticipation. I believed I may have found my place in the world, this Boston actually held a party honouring the wonderous majesty of a proper, well made, well heated, well brewed cup of good old fashioned tea! After a quick bit of research however I was shocked, shocked to the very core of my being. This sick excuse for a party was in fact when a bunch of drunk, unruly, barbaric colonials jumped a British tea carrying vessel and tipped all the caffeine based leafy goodness overboard! I decided I no longer could relate to these people, it was apparent I wouldn't fit in here so i rounded up my companions (who were off enjoying the excellant local whale-watching, the informative and entertaining freedom trail, or generally exploring the lovely heritage sites and olde times buildings) and we took refuge from this place of heinus 'tea-icide' across the border in the Canadian city of Montreal!

First thing to report about Montreal, it's French. Very very French! When I signed up for a trip around North America, I had based my decision to come along on the assumption that i wouldn't have to learn a new language to understand the menu where-ever i went. I'd spent far too long last summer sitting in cafes in Siberia trying to translate the hyrogliphics they call an alphabet, to spend time trying to work out my escargots from my canards! After a few failed attempts to get food with my middle english accent requesting "Poo-Lett" and a hand full of quizical looks when we offered a "Mer-See Boo-Coop" my accomplices and I did the only truely British thing to do and found a Thai take-away for food, and a Mexican bar to have a skin full in, thus avoiding any need to adapt to local culture!

Disappointed with our previous days efforts at bi-lingual integration we set out on our second day in Canada to explore the downtown history and the fascinating revolation that most Montreal residents consider themselves French first, Canadian second! Madness!?!

Our cultural enlightenment didn't last long however as we headed back in the United States after only 3 days in the land of the Maple leaf. Next onto Buffalo and a visit to Niagara Falls for the band of 4 travelling-folk!

USA 2008

It's funny to think that im in the greatest, most developed country in the world and I still can't get a good cup of tea! I'm in the land that brought the world Micky Mouse, McDonalds, and Michael Moore. However, other than a preference to names beginning with 'M', giant eared rodents, fatty grease based burger emporiums, and overweight socialists, what else can a counrty first concieved 232 years ago offer an band of intrepid travellers from the other side of the pond?

Our little voyage of discovery and enlightenment started as do all great chapters in history, with a dream. Not as profound and earth shattering as the night time visualisations and realisations that Martin Luther King must of enjoyed I'm sure, but slightly more attainable and realistic than the sleepy delusions of magical humanisation that a young wooden puppet entertained. No, our dreams of wide open roads, giant tall buildings and all things American began without a hitch on 1st August 2008!

Top 60 Trip Photos

Head to:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=5690&l=d8265&id=505712705

Enjoy,

Ian

The Lands of Mongolia

As I write this I'm sitting in student flat in Wales looking out the window at the rain clouds, the wind, and the multitude of people milling about. A stark contrast if ever there was one to the vast expanse of the Mongolian countryside. It's strange to think back to the endless stretches of grass, and sand reaching to the horizon on all sides, dotted with the sporadic home tents of nomadic locals (called Yurts we learned!). And then to consider the British countryside when one is never more than a stumble away from the nearest settlement, or at least the nearest Pub!

Without much to offer to the casual tourist, the capital city of UlaanBator is a friendly place with a population of merely 800,000. The locals seem to take great pride in the capital as the centre of civilisation and development in a nation traditionally considered to be full of a bunch of wandering country folk. UB (as it is referred to, thankfully, as UlaanBator is both hard to say and spell, I saw 3 different spellings in Mongolia itself!) served for us as a night stopover to get a shower, eat some quality fodder, and join a tour to the rural lands. The shower was required due to being on a train for 2 nights without facilities previously and then heading to live in tents for 5 days without washing facilities either. So in the interest of all mankind we dragged our carcases to the bathroom and spruced up before we headed out for a slap-up meal at one of UB's most highly regarded restaurants (worst travellers ever! Avoided the ever present temptation of McDonalds throughout though... proud of that!).

It's within the fields of Outer Mongolia that the true beauty of this country lies, with it's sprawling landscape forever providing breath-taking views and mind-blowing panoramic visions. Over the 5 days we spent out in the sticks we travelled around by converted military jeep with dubious suspension, lived in Yurts with singing and dancing nomadic families, and ate local food which provided the largest bout of the "squirts" any of us have ever experienced... Mongolia didn't know what had hit it... to say we left our little bit of England in Mongolia would be an understatement! (My apologises to my mother for talking about such subjects publicly, but I felt people should know the truth, and it'd help paint a picture, of which thankfully there are none on this particular subject!) The food was indeed nice however, but we all agreed the Mutton failed to successfully disguise itself as a Lamb, credit was given for effort though.

For the scenery (and the enormous birds!) Mongolia was truly a spectacle only going there yourself could describe, one of those places on the map we all say we'd go back to in a shot if the opportunity arrived. Unfortunately, as in the wise words of Nelly Furtado, "All good things come to an end", and thus we had to pack up our little model Yurts, miniture flags, and warm salty milk before boarding the last and final leg of the trip in the direction of the 2008 Olympic Games, China's capital city, Beijing!

**(This was written as we left UlaanBator in the middle of September, but unfortunately i've not had chance to update the internet until now, sorry!)**

Lake Baikal (Far Eastern Russia)

They said the world was flat, they said beating the sound barrier was impossible, they even said eating bread crusts would make your hair go curly. So it’s understandable that we borderlined on sceptical when this infamous they informed us that Lake Baikal was in fact the worlds largest fresh water lake, volumous enough to consume the contents of all America’s Great Lakes, and vast enough in area to cover the entire of England. However, when we stood on the edge of this gigantic aquatic spectacle it became apparent that the omniscient they may have finally potted the black with this one.

We stayed on an island within Baikal called Olkhon Island, an island highly regarded within the Shamanic religion as a place of great positive energy. There even resided the odd holy stone or pillar which would grant the gift of good energy to any person whom threw monies at it. With promises uncannily similar to those of Powergen we couldn’t resist casting a couple of Roubles into this mystical power meter and waited with baited breath for our Ipods and Mobiles to recharge… once again following Powergen’s business traits the goods never arrived, and the helpdesk failed to help. We were left dejected and without battery life.

Our residence for the 4 days we spent on Olkhon was with Nikita’s Guesthouse. Nikita himself is an ex-Russian table tennis champion, and currently coaches the national team (or so they told us anyway!) And his guesthouse is a Mecca for everyone who travels the area, and it appeared to be frequented throughout the day and night by persons from all over the island for drinks, chat, and tours. It was with a ramshackle collection of nationalities (from within the former USSR, and as far a field as New Zealand) that we enjoyed numerous days fishing, trekking, and generally chilling around on beaches.

Our exploits with the fishing rod failed to reap the kinds of rewards our campfire and rumbling stomachs craved, but it was still an enjoyable 4 hours spent sitting at leisure on rocks and outcrops with the sun on our backs and the cool calm waters tickling our toes. After a couple of false starts and the usual novice errors handing reels and hooks I got underway and set about putting John Wilson to shame. Unfortunately other members of our work detail ran into a couple of hiccups, and spent the majority of their time untangling irreversibly tangled line, cutting the offending line, tying a knot in the line, and then promptly retangling the line again… and so the cycle continued until the American contingent of our team lost his hook and weights somewhere in the deep, dark abyss (reaches a Mile deep in parts!).

All in all though, we agreed that Lake Baikal lived up to expectations and ticked all the right boxes. So with boxes ticked and expectations fulfilled we made our way back to Irkutsk to catch our 6AM train to Mongolia… which we managed to miss in spectacular fashion, so we caught a later 8:30PM train that same day.

So its good bye Russia, and hello Mongolia, it’s been emotional.


**(This was written as we left Baikal at the beginning of September, but unfortunately i've not had chance to update the internet until now, sorry!)**

Altai Adventure (Southern Siberia)

Vodka, Vodka, Vodka.... and more Vodka!

That's the best way to describe the last couple of weeks. We left Moscow on the 13th of August and since then we've entertained shots of Russia's largest export in the following somewhat bizarre situations... to name but a few:

• For Breakfast: Vodka Shreddies, Kellogs missing a market there, i tell you!
• For lunch and dinner aswell: In fact any time food was around really.
• With crazy Russian's on trains: We were approached by drunken locals regularly, one even claiming to be a Red Army Machine Gunner, but his pot-belly begged to differ.
• While out in Barnaul - The usual night out with a bottles of Vodka close in tow.
• With Immigration Officials - A portly fellow was trying to fine us 40 pounds each for Visa irregularities but while we sat with our translator in his stuffy little office, he couldn't resist cracking out a couple of shots in the middle of our 2 and a half hour "interview"!
• While White Water Rafting - In between tackling the challenges mother nature was throwing our way, the local tourists on board would line up a few swift ones each to wet our, already decidedly damp, whistles.

One of the most remarkable things about this whole experience was the fact we were rafting with a local Police Captain, two Doctors, and the areas most respected Surgeon (which came in handy when Brownie dislocated his shoulder mid-rafting!) and none of them batted an eye-lid at the numerous intoxicating liquids being knocked back as we fought our way down the wild River Katun. We came to the conclusion that the health and safety blame culture which has griped Britain has yet to claw it's grubby mitts to Southern Siberia, and it sure was a breath of fresh air I tell you.

We'd met our motley crew of local big wigs and weathered pros in the Siberian city of Barnaul. From there we'd immediately headed off to the Altai mountain range and the the Katun River where we commenced the 5 days of rafting. It was on day 5 that we were all enjoying an easy stretch of water, Vodka shot number 4, and some lovely weather that disaster struck. All three mad Englishman had catapulted ourselves into the icy cold waters but one of our number managed to come out a little worse off for his heroics.

Brownie has a history with dislocating his shoulder, especially while on summer holidays it seems, and enjoys the prestige of having his own specialist back in the UK. Out in the forested wilderness of Siberia, however, isn't the ideal place to go popping ones bones out of their sockets, regardless of previous experience. It was while swimming that Brownie had his accident but luckily, the Surgeon with us was able to rectify the problem after nearly 2 hours of agonising (for Brownie, and for Jimmy who bore the brunt of Brownie's pain through his tightly grasped hand!) pulling and pushing on a random beach. On the plus side we all agreed that we couldn't quite imagine a more picturesque place to have gone through the ordeal.

After a few more hours finishing off the last bits of rafting, one man down, Brownie departed with the locals to head to the nearest hospital for a check-up and Jimmy and I continued as planned with the second part of our Altai adventure, horse-riding.

I still to this day can't understand how Cowboys can ride horses all their lives and still walk normally or even just sit down properly. Equally hard to comprehend is how the Cowboy family lines continue to reproduce with certain vital parts taking such a bashing on a regular basis! Other than this most uncomfortable side effect (I'm taking a box next time!) the horse riding experience was excellent, and the locations were unparalleled in their beauty and serenity.

Back in Barnaul (with an obvious limp) and re-united with our one-armed companion we enjoyed a night out with a handful of locals we befriended, and a couple of days adjusting back to life in a world with toilets, showers, and the occasion bar of soap.

It wasn't long though before we jumped ship once again and boarded yet another train headed towards Irkutsk and the worlds largest fresh water lake, Lake Baikal. Being as it's so big however, it'll have to wait till next time for a write up!

Only 2 weeks till we fly home now, so i look forward to seeing everyone, and would like to say a big good bye to my parents, as they should be just about boarding a one way plane to New Zealand as i write this... see you in sunny NZ at Christmas Mops an Pops!

Ta ta