The Silent World

   All the underwater photos we've been taking recently are from our little wee point-and-shoot camera. While we were in New York we splurged and bought an underwater housing so we could take it diving with us- it wasn't cheap (US$200) but we've been having great fun using it and I thought I'd share the results so far.

This beauty is a Lionfish. Its spines are poisonous - and get this - the antidote to getting stung is to stuck your hand (or wherever you were poked) into really, really hot water.




Bluespotted Stingray. Not hard to guess how this fella got his name. The blue spots are really vivid.




Honeycomb Moray. Her taste in fashion is way out of date - animal prints are so eighties.
She's getting a makeover courtesy of the little blue Cleaner Wrasse.




Rachel, not to be outdone by an eel in leopard-print lycra, is getting a manicure from the local White-banded Cleaner Shrimp.
We found this fella on the deck of a tug-boat wreck.




A Giant Clam. Not that it was actually that gigantic. Gorgeous though.




With friends like these, who needs anemones?




These guys aren't actually clownfish. I did some checking and discovered they're actually False Clownfish. What kind of a world do we live where small colourful reef fish are so full of deceit? How dare they!
The fish behind them are Threespot Damselfish. At least they're on the level.




Bearded Scorpionfish. This guy looks like he's a mean old bugger, doesn't he?

Under The Sea

Lately we've had a bit of an interruption with posting to the blog due to the highly erractic nature of the power and telecommunications here on this island. Sorry about that. I suppose we should be glad to have any internet at all.


Rachel has finished her open water diving course here so now we can go diving together and we've taken almost every opportunity that we've had.

















Here's the real reason we haven't been in touch lately - our cell phone is a bit waterlogged...

It's a shame that even here in a remote corner of the world, on an otherwise pristine coral reef, we can find discarded rubbish.

The Rupiah Sea Gardens

   Rachel's still doing her dolphin impersonation down at the scuba school and I've been left to do my own thing. And here there's not much to do - which is by no means a complaint. Sitting in a hammock on the beach with a cold beer and a novel suits me just fine. But I do get a twinge of guilt for being so unashamedly lazy. Just a twinge mind you. Today after my normal period of inactivity I hopped on a boat and went to snorkel around a local coral reef called the Rupiah Sea Garden and take a few pictures of the local wildlife. Cleared that twinge right up.
The Rupiah Sea Gardens.















Nemo is alive and well. Unless the locals find him in which case he's sushi.







This is soft coral. It's best desribed as a living shag-pile carpet - the outer layer of coral moves back and forth with the currents. Quite mesmerising







Just your average singing fish. Nothing out of the ordinary.


He had a deep voice - I think he 's a Bass.

The Indonesian Flag.

Kindly modelled by Alex and his snorkeling sunburn.

Gabang - Pulau Weh

   Yesterday we left our tropical paradise of Ibioh to spend a day in Sabang, the bustling metropolitan centre of the island. Taxis and buses are in scarce supply here in the jungle so we decided to take our lives in our hands and get to Sabang under our own steam. Like Rome, the chief mode of transport here is the humble scooter, but considering the state of the roads here it should really be some sort of all-terrain vehicle, although it would probably be more sensible to repair the roads which, for about a third of the hour-long journey, could be best described as a series of potholes linked by a tattered lacework of asphalt. And it wouldn't hurt to clear the road of the wildlife either: cats, dogs, goats (including a pair of billy goats rearing up and headbutting one another), herds of cows, flocks of chickens, and troops of monkeys were all to be found just hanging out in the middle of the road. Welcome to the jungle, baby.

We hired this puppy for a bargain 50,000 Rupiah (about NZ$7) from a local. It had one serious flaw: the horn didn't work. We did get free helmets as well, but they were little better than wearing a padded salad bowl on your head for all the protection they afforded.


   We seem to keep ending up in local markets wherever we go - I guess it's a stage were going through, huh? Anyway we can report that the markets of Sabang have the same filth and squalor as those in Turkey and Egypt, but these guys are definitely friendlier.

This guy had the most beautiful looking fish in the market. And the presentation; so simple yet so effective: Red fish on a green banana frond - just brilliant. Shame those fish aren't back in the reef, but these guys have gotta eat too I suppose.



I quickly made friends with the local chook butcher. Did I buy some of his delicious chicken? Like hell I did. That's just asking for hours bent over a bucket, vomiting your guts out.












The dried fish was likewise avoided, although the local flies seemed crazy about it. I did like the salesman's shirt though, but it was probably too small for me.






The fruit lady was one of the few recipients of our spend up in Sabang.









Cigarette advertising is alive and well in Indonesia. Yes, you too can 'chase your dreams' as the billboard proclaims, providing, of course, that you dream of awful breath, lung cancer, and wasting large amounts of your income on achieving all this.












On our way home we stopped and threw a few morsels to the monkeys. This chap must have been the leader of the gang - he started grunting at us, and I, being the bloke that I am, couldn't help but grunt back at him. And so it went on. Thus communicating, he and I had quite a frank and meaningful exchange of views on many different subjects.










The heat has been doing Rachel's head in lately. And the accommodation hasn't been exactly first rate either - or even second rate. On our way back to Ibioh we passed by Gabang, did a quick investigation, and struck gold. Gabang turned out to be Pulau Weh's answer to Queenstown. We found they had brand new bungalows with clean linen, tiled floors, billowing white curtains, a kitchen with a fridge, a bathroom and - yee-haa! - showers. And they were only €15 per night - and although that's about five times the local rate it's still very cheap. So we said goodbye to Ibioh and have moved to Gabang.




Another thing Gabang has is a nice friendly dive centre. So Rachel's gone back to school and is learning how to scuba dive in just about the best place in the world to do so. And although Rach had some serious concerns about whether or not she wanted to do this she came out of her first dive beaming from ear to ear.

Pulau Weh, Indonesia

Our final destination in this crazy adventure is an island off the northern tip of Sumatra called Pulau Weh. As far as crazy adventures go, the trip to Palau Weh is up there. We had heard about this place through Mark, our host from the Cornish leg of this trip. Our travels to the island would take us through Banda Aceh, best known for being the hardest hit area in the 2004 Tsunami.

We hired a taxi to take us from the Banda Aceh airport to the port where the ferry to Pulau Weh leaves from. After about an hour we could see a large ship in the distance. Obviously we were at the port, right? Well actually no. As we came closer we suddenly realised that this huge ship was actually on dry land and we were still about ten minutes drive away from any water. The ship turned out to be a floating power station that even today still powers the city.

The Banda Aceh Power Station











The little settlement of Ibioh. However it's not quite as idyllic as it looks. The first night we arrived here at nightfall and the only accomodation we could find was a stinking hot wooden shack that looks like something children might make. Fortunately the next day we upgraded to a much more friendly place that has that unmistakeable 'built by adults' feel about it.




This what I really came for - mucking about in the water and doing a Jacques Cousteau impression. This reef is just off the shore at Ibioh.








It took some time to train these fish to line up like this, but we finally made it work.















Underwater fashions are worse here than in Rome. Blue and yellow? What was God thinking?










This guy's into camouflage. He probably likes guns and votes Republician too.












The only drawback to the snorkelling was that in my own eagerness to get down to the depths I managed to damage my left ear. It's just temporary, but I have to stay out of the water for a few days, dammit! So tomorrow we head to Sapang, the main town on the island, to get some more cash and buy some fruit and other yummy stuff.

Paul Allen - Guest Blogger

   It's February in Titiwangsa, the most amusingly named suburb in all of Kuala Lumpur. Alex and Rachel are on the last leg of their world tour, and they have wisely chosen to come to the cheapest destination last, where the final fumes of the budget go the farthest.

Here's Rachel attempting to catch dengue fever at the local lake.









It is quite acceptable to ride your motorbike on the footpath here, but you must never, ever, show affection towards anyone.




Berkelakuan Sumbang my arse! Those crap warning signs were a waste of Government money.









These ones on the other hand seem to be more persuasive. I haven't seen this happen yet.










Another fine evening at Titiwangsa HQ.









The lizards here are enormous, have opposable thumbs and crack on to your woman.










You should've seen the other applicants for the 101 East anchoring job.

Malaysian Fish Spa

   We were taken to a BBQ dinner the night before last, and while there Laura, a producer collegue of Pauls who also works for Al Jazeera, recommended the strangest thing we'd heard of for about three days (still getting over the monk skeletons) - a Fish Spa.

   So we went to see what all the fuss is about....

Fish Spa's: highly recommended. For those less sophisticated than myself a Fish Spa is the crème de la crème of dermal metatarpal exfoliation. Quite simple really. You wash your feet and then sit down and dip your newly cleansed tootsies into the nice, warm water. At which point the carnivorous fish take over. Yep, the fish eat the dead skin off your feet. And we pay good money for this...









These piscine gourmands have absolutely no standards. Even Rachel refuses to chew the dried up bits of skin and filth between my toes.





Rach: It tickled sooooo much!

Kocktails in KL

Here is Paul our kind host & old friend of Alex.

After a serious sleep in, he treated us to cocktails on the patio.

Turns out someone else digs aviator sunnies - who knew?!


There is some great fauna here, & not just the Dengue fever. This lovely bird entertained us with it's aorobatics, stalling midair &

dropping to catch bugs. Ahh, pretty.



KL seems to have that fab asian style that has been called 'Kooky'. Bright colours and cartoon characters abound. Adverts are all

so happy, happy, happy. Creepy.

Arrivederci Roma

Rome, Italy
      Metro 1 hr - Train 1 hr - Small Plane 2 hrs
Frankfurt, Germany
      Big plane 12 hrs
Singapore
      Metro 1 hr - Bus 5 hrs - Taxi 15 min
Paul's place in KL, Malaysia

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Roman Roamin'

The Tiber River at night. During the day Rach and I walked along here and saw a wild otter in the river near a grassy bank. Cool.





   Rome is, of course, renowned for its ruins. And being tourists here in the Eternal City we're obliged to go and visit (I think it's a law here). So we headed off to the Colosseum, the Forum, Palatine Hill, Circus Maximus, the Cestia Pyramid, and the crumbling remains of numerous Imperial Palaces.













   The famous Colosseum is magnificent, especially when you think about how old it is and what it looked like back in its hey-day. It was covered in marble and had hundreds of marble statues in every nook and cranny. But the Roman Empire declined and along came the Christians who looked on this fabulous structure as a convenient place to get marble from. And so all the marble was stripped off. Plus the bronze staples that held the structure together were just a bit too tempting to leave where they were and that was nicked too. Most of the outside wall was dismantled as well. Where did all this go? Well, look down this page and you'll see a posting on St Peters Basilica. Made from recycled Roman stadium. Don't like the huge pagan buildings? No problem. Build a church out of them. I'm sure in a another few hundred years some new cult (Jedi Knights, in all probability) will knock down St Peters to build an even bigger temple. Not that the Romans were above pinching stuff from other cultures - the Obelisk in St Peters Square was originally taken from Egypt by Caligula, and then appropriated by the Christians who jammed a tiny crucifix on top of it just to make it all OK with God, in spite of the fact that it had already been used by two different religions in the previous centuries before that. Recycling isn't just a new concept after all.












While fruitlessly trying to find a restaurant that was recommended to us we came across this - the Cestia Pyramid. It dates from about 12 BC and to our surprise it isn't stolen from Egypt. Well the design certainly is borrowed from Egypt but the structure was built here to serve as a mausoleum for a Roman Magistrate. We may not have made it to the pyramids in Cairo but at least we got to see a small, well preserved one here in Rome.







Rach and myself in front of the Trevi Fountain. Of all the 'throw-a-penny-in-the-fountain' fountains around the world this is the biggie. The Trev is the place where, legend has it, if you throw a coin in the fountain then you are guaranteed to return. It sure worked for Rachel. This is her third time here. The place is teeming with tourists, certainly the most concentrated numbers of people we've seen in Rome yet. Legend aside the fountain is extremely beautiful, a baroque masterpiece that seems to grow out of the side of a building.

   Imagine what would happen if you combined the artistic sensibility of primary school children with the macabre imagination of a serial killer. Then throw in a dash of Damien Hirst, a smidgin of Salvador Dali, and top it off with lashings of Vincent Price. Sounds pretty screwed up, right? Well I invite you to visit the Cemetery of the Capuchin Monks. This crypt has to be one of the weirder places I've been. Almost 500 years ago the Pope's brother, Cardinal Barberini, thought it would be a neat idea to exhume thousands of corpses of monks and place these remains in a bunch of crypts underneath a church. Not just put them in there in piles, mind you.
   "Let's arrange them in pretty patterns, guys" he must have said to the bewildered monks who were given this bizarre task, "why don't we stick the bones everywhere, even on the ceiling, and we'll even make lampshades of bones, and yeah, get this, let's get one of the more youthful skeletons and make that the Angel of Death and give it an hourglass and scythe made out of other kids bones."
   The place is downright creepy, but not in the way that one would expect rooms full of the bones of 4000 dead monks to be. To me it is mostly disturbing because of the strangely haphazard way it has been done, looking half unfinished like a rushed job, or even just a trial effort. I does remind me of pretentious 'installation art' that sells for ten of thousands of dollars. But that's just my opinion. The teenage American kid who stood next to me kept whispering to himself "this is so awesome", at every different room. And he's probably right.


"What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you will be." This is inscribed on the floor of the last tomb. Hard to argue with that one.

This is actually a bit of a cheat - it's a photo of a postcard as no photography is allowed in the crypt.