Suicide attack on US warship. "At least four sailors have been killed in what US officials are describing as a suicide attack on a US Navy destroyer in the Yemeni port of Aden." Mmmh. Nice news, I'm heading there in the morning!
01:47

Clouds! Everywhere. Blowing through windows, tip-toeing up stairs, settling on roofs. They seem to form in the early afternoon and by sundown swirl around many of the small villages that grip onto all the most awkward peaks around here. Four, five, or six storey stone houses, often hundreds of years old, arranged in tight groups, towering above sheer cliffs. I am in the Haraz mountains (loosely translated as 'refuge', I believe), about a day's walk now from Al-Hajjarah (2400m), the last place that my map named, to the south west of Sana'a.

As the clouds both obscure and highlight the incredible views of the luminous valley, silhouettes move in from all sides, men and eternally black clad women weave their way home through the steep terraces with huge bales of sorghum and maize on their heads. Even here, in this twenty house hamlet, the scratchy speakers of the mosque bellow away and signal six o'clock. They compete with the echoes of remote chants from other peaks and the occasional 'Kalash' shot, presumably from one of the guards that look over the crops, most notably qat, during the night.

We are staying in a tent tonight (a complete rarity round here, allowing us a constant turnover of inquisitive children - more than than half this country is under 15) so, in true travel spirit, my guide has opted for a positively lightweight option for the local weaponry requirement, a mere handgun.
01:35

2000/10/05

At this time in the afternoon come the Qat hours, where every other store, every other person, every other cheek, every other bench, stone, corner, wall, bus, cafe, balcony, and so on is taken up for the selling, sharing, and chewing of qat, Yemen's singular and absolutely pervasive narcotic. The city lazes through its hottest hours (thankfully cooler than Oman's hardgoing average autumnal highs of 40, given the altitude). Sana'a is replete with spectacular architecture, incredible faces, enthusiastic welcomes and invitations - along with some intriguing reminders that the nation's firearm to population ratio is over 3:1. It is also a welcome change from the barren dementia of development that makes up much of Dubai, the ultimate in post-motorised vehicle cities, where concrete, like lava, creeps across the landscape leaving nothing natural in its wake, and certainly no shelter from the sun. I head for the hills tomorrow, which according to most, comes with yet more marvels.
00:14

2000/07/14

Welcome to somewhere else. It would be hard not to register a certain feeling of remoteness as you land in Ulan Baator. The town is a confounding mixture of rustic highland life (horses, sheep and white tents everywhere) and omnipresent relics of the Soviet system (tanks as public sculpture, mid-town power stations, huge decrepid state buildings and decaying theme parks). For a truly intriguing result, add to that a to-be-expected continuum of 'surprises' like hearing long dead French pop star Daniel Balavoine on the radio. I cannot help but question why this town is even here, besides its congregating people together. I don't think I've ever come to question a town before but watching this contained patch of urbanism breaking an otherwise empty landscape, UB appears to be the result of some mysterious intention more than natural development. Initial impressions are certainly always simplistic, but I am fascinated nonetheless.
14:58

Leaving another departure lounge...for a bus, we are led past one of my favourite shapes: the flattened circle of the engine on what I now know to be a 737-300. Behind, a few lone push-bikers make their leisurely way across the forbidden tarmac of runways, which shimmers already in the early morning heat. As they are progrssively renewed or converted to ample, cool grey technical structures, airports are increasingly neutral, distinguishable only by the colour palette of the signage and the brand of Macadamia nuts available in whatever duty-free offering there might be. Beijing airport, with its 300+ gates, is no exception, its saving grace being a pleasing smattering of 'Chenglish' gems. The bathroom walls warned profusely of "unnecessary touching" -- which turns out to be an explanation for the sensor-activated taps. The colours covering the seat a full twenty centimetres in front of mine show more refreshing distinction. With the tray table down, you get a peep of the standard sober grey, but this is now covered with a striking pastoral scene, lighting up the whole cabin with Hawaian shirt green. I have a good window seat, only 30% wing, which, within a half hour, should allow a glimpse of the great wall. If you can see it from space, I'm presuming China Airlines can too.
14:31

2000/06/28

In the 23rd hour of flying, the thrill wears off slightly, legs prompting the body for a run. Sadly, that leaves just one airplane meal to go. That said, this morning's lard omelet was less than succulent. Despite the dramatic views, our window covers are currently tucked down for mid-afternoon entertainment, which surprisingly enough features neither Julia Roberts nor Bill Pullman. With the awkward viewing angle available from my customary emergency exit row, the Chinese film seems to be starring Howard Jones, in a latter day acting career. I had an intriguing disagreement over visas with the Shanghai border police, one which will require me to shell out more cash for yet another multiple entry visa. Two hours in an airport, it was decided, was enough to wipe out one 30 day stay. Thankfully, the soothing airport sounds of a Celine Dion medley, as rendered by synthesizer pan flutes, were there to appease any tempers troubled by the tensions of international diplomacy. It wasn't anything I couldn't get out anyway: I spent the next couple of hours reading the amusing and accurate "Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook", gracefully given to me as I left Sydney. We crossed the Gobi desert a few hours back. At times, the barren ground made Australia's arid Red Center look positively inviting. We are now over southern Siberia, passing over a brilliantly tortuous river writhing through the widest of green landscapes (much like Dead Can Dance's Serpent's Egg record cover). Overall, the great misty hills behind Beijing, the sunbrunt backpackers chewing at their boarding passes in the waiting lounges, and hurried currency conversions to pay obscure airport taxes left me with that recurring and ever pleasing stab of the desire to travel. Which, I suppose, is what I'm soon to do again. Good.
22:42

2000/06/25

It's quite tough leaving Sydney. It's a beautiful day as per usual; twenty Celsius at the height of winter requires little endurance. The sea is impeccably still, the hill behind the house is strewn with afternoon nappers, the harbour is glistening with white sails from a regatta and weekend lunchtime feasts are cheap. Adding to any emotional attachments, the inspiring beauty of this place make the prospect of missing a few weeks here somewhat strange. By the time I get back, it will nearly be warming up again and they will be completing the construction of the Olympic stadium in the middle of the beach. Apparently the negative environmental consequences of this temporary edifice have already kicked in. Great planning strikes again. In a few hours, I'm off to Paris for a couple of weeks to work on a project, and then onto Mongolia to work on the restoration of 17th century Tibetan Buddhist monastery which should be excellent. I'm stopping in Beijing on the way and the way back - do we know anyone in Beijing?
16:42

2000/06/20

Finished the thesis! (it's up online, although despite being in HTML, it's not really destined for web use or anything but Internet Explorer for that matter, but if you are curious) Not that looking out across the garden to Rose Bay is not enough to inspire and revitalise on a daily basis, but the extra spring in my step for the last few days has been outstanding. Getting back to work on some music now, and this, so that we might all stay in touch a little more easily perhaps. I spent a fantastic weekend in the Blue Mountains, walking, eating, relaxing - a nice end to this episode of education.
01:50