Sunday, 11 December 2011
Day 28 – Tokyo to London
Saturday, 10 December 2011
Day 27 – Tokyo
Friday, 9 December 2011
Day 26 – Kyoto to Tokyo
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Day 25 – Kyoto
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
Day 24 – Kyoto
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
Day 23 – Kyoto
Monday, 5 December 2011
Day 22 – Osaka to Kyoto
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Day 21 – Osaka
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Day 20 – Hiroshima to Osaka
Friday, 2 December 2011
Day 19 – Naoshima to Hiroshima
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Day 18 – Naoshima
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Day 17 – Hiroshima to Naoshima
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Day 16 – Beppu to Hiroshima
Monday, 28 November 2011
Day 15 – Beppu
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Day 14 – Aso to Beppu
Saturday, 26 November 2011
Day 13 – Kumamoto to Aso
Friday, 25 November 2011
Day 12 – Kumamoto
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Day 11 – Nagasaki to Kumamoto
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Day 10 – Fukuoka to Nagasaki
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Day 9 – Fukuoka
Monday, 21 November 2011
Day 8 – Kyoto to Fukuoka
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Day 7 – Hakone to Kyoto
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Day 6 – Tokyo to Hakone
Friday, 18 November 2011
Day 5 – Tokyo
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Day 4 – Tokyo
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Day 3 – Tokyo
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Day 2 – Tokyo
Monday, 14 November 2011
Day 1 – London to… somewhere over Siberia
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Day 26 – Havana to London
I spent my last few hours in Cuba ordering every single item from the breakfast buffet menu, none of which was very good hence I kept ordering, and enjoying a PIna Colada, which was exceptionally good, on the veranda.
I gave out the last of my local currency to the beggar at the hotel gates, who looked at me like I had handed him a fresh dog poo – it was easily enough for three slices of pizza, five scoops of ice cream or seven cones of peanuts so I don't know what he was moaning about, especially if he was attending a childrens party later in the day.
Having had to endure an hour long wait at customs getting into the country three weeks ago, I was expecting the security staff on the way out to be happy to get rid of me as quickly as possible, alas not. Having nearly lost the will to live queuing for check-in followed by passport control, I was informed when I reached the front that I needed to pay a departure tax first for which, of course, I needed to go to a separate desk. With the final security leg cleared I could at last relax for the fifteen odd minutes I had left before my plane departed for London.
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Day 25 – Havana
After a hellish three weeks of Mojitos, Pina Coladas, lobsters, outrageous cigars and 30 degree heat, I decide to treat myself to a bit of luxury and book into the luxurious Nacional Hotel following in the exalted footsteps of Brando, Flynn, Sinatra, Churchill and Hemingway amongst others.
I cruise into the ornate lobby dressed in my customary backpacker attire – scruffy shorts, scruffy shirt (I have given most of my clothes away) and scruffy bag clinking noisily with cheap bottles of rum.
After inquiring what rooms were available the receptionist haughtily stated 'The rooms are 170CUC' as she looked down her nose at us. Handily, this proofed to be the perfect angle for CIara to thrust her Platinum Mastercard up the snotty cow's nose. Having removed the card she launched her charm offensive in a last ditch attempt to get a tip from us – the fool!
The room, whilst a little past it's best – not helped by the blind that I managed to pull down – had spectacular views of the ocean, promenade and lush gardens. I made full use of the swimming pool and only ventured from the hotel grounds to stock up on supplies of champagne, peanuts and more cigars (weirdly you could smoke in the rooms and lobby but not the halls). At eight times the price of most of the other places we have been staying it was a little extravagant and I certainly felt a bit guilty when asked for money on the streets 'Leave it out, I am not staying at The Natio… oh, here you are'.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Day 24 – Havana
It's amazing how quickly you get used to a country, Havana seems far less hectic than when I arrived three weeks ago, helped by the fact that I have worked out how the dual currency works, everything seems a lot easier.
My day starts with a tour around Havana's largest cigar factory where the myth of Cuban cigars being rolled on the thighs of virgins is quickly dispelled, but advertising works and I guess that line is always going to sound better than 'Rolled on the dirty desk of a crone'.
Next stop on the Keith Richards itinery was the rum museum where the process of making Havana Club was shown – there is no Bacardi in Cuba, Fidel sent them packing for being capitalist imperialist pig-dogs. The tour included a tasting session of the various Havana Club varieties served by a girl with the longest legs and the shortest skirt I have seen in quite a while. Personally, I would have her rolling smokes in the cigar factory and selling them for £200 a piece.
In the evening I visit the National Theatre. I had taken the guided tour of the building earlier in the day and was left a little disappointed, after relieving me of my money a bored and sulky looking woman whisked me around two rooms in about six minutes giving such nuggets of information as "This was not always theatre', before wandering off and leaving me wondering if that was the end.
Whilst there I had noticed that an opera (La Dulcia Moor) was playing in the evening and as we queued for the £36 tickets a rather shady looking character in a long coat and trilby hat appeared from a fog of cigar smoke (I seem to attract the attention of shady street dealers in the same way that Angeline Jolie attracts the attention of African adoption agencies) 'Senor, you want tickets? I have'. Before I could say 'Isn't that the lead actress?' we were being led through the stage door, across the backstage and into the Presidential seats so called as they are favoured by Fidel himself. The shady character was given a nice little earner and the next time I saw him he was operating the main spotlight.
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Day 23 – Playa Larga to Havana
I bid hasta la vista to the beach and say hola to the last bus of my trip that will take me back to Havana. I have booked a couple of nights in a casa that is located on the fourteenth floor of a tower block giving me great views of the city skyline from one window and the ocean from the other.
Cubans like ice cream. So much in fact, that the locals think nothing of queuing for over an hour to get a scoop from the national chain Coppelia, since my arrival here I have never been past an outlet that doesn't have a throng of punters outside. Tonight my luck was in and there was no one waiting, probably helped my the fact this particular outlet is huge. After a short contemplation I went for strawberry (as it was the only flavour they had) paid my 3p – yes 3p – and sat back to enjoy. It wasn't bad, but queuing for an hour? I think not. I would give someone 6p and get them to queue for me in future.
Cuban Beer League
A last minute entry into the beer league.
1. Bucanero
2. Bucanero Max – A stronger version of Bucanero, the upside being you would need to drink less of it to get drunk, the downside it is horrible.
3. Cristal
4. Cacique
5. Mayabe
Monday, 24 January 2011
Day 22 – Playa Larga
It would be overstating Playa Larga somewhat to call it a town – we have seen no shops (not uncommon in Cuba), one restaurant, and only one stall selling pizza on the street (although that was closed and again that is not uncommon in Cuba). It is more a collection of houses sitting alongside a great beach.
It is set at the top of a 30-km long bay known as the Bahia de Cochinos or more infamously as The Bay of Pigs. Pick up a copy of Great American Military Disasters and you'll find the chapter just before the one entitled 'Vietnam – winning hearts and minds. but not battles'.
In 1961 a US-backed and trained invasion force landed here but was routed by the Cuban army within days. Eventually 1,197 men were returned to America in exchange for $50 million (the only war debt the US has ever paid). Apparently Kennedy was so humiliated by the disaster extra funding was given to NASA to facilitate the moon landing by the end of the decade. He also learnt a painful lesson about not underestimating an enemy, and promptly invaded Vietnam.
I visit a superb inland snorkelling site, a 70 metre deep fissure in the rocky ground which has filled with water (essential for snorkelling) and thousands of fish, the beach is pretty damn good too.