Monthly Archives: March 2011

Revenge Of The Cockroach!

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Never go on appearances when checking into a good looking guest house. As you never know what creepy crawlies, will make their appearance when your not looking. I left Frank (another motorcycle traveler) alone while I found an internet cafe. I returned an hour later to find dead cockroach bodies throughout the room and Frank swearing hes got every single one of them! 

New Buff® Range For The Extreme Adventure Motorcyclist!

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With only two weeks until I get to Pakistan, I have to start thinking about what I am going to wear. Especially how I am going to keep my hair covered up while taking off my motorcycle helmet. 
Hence why I came up with a new Buff® designs for the extreme adventure motorcyclist! 

Many thanks to Buff® Australia for sponsoring me.

Piles of Paper Work

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My Pakistan visa was on the forefront of my mind. I had earlier established that I was not able to apply in India as I had originally planned when leaving Australia. The Pakistan embassy in New Delhi has since ceased issuing visa’s to foreigners. Even if I had obtained the visa in Australia before I left, it would have longed expired before I even made it to the border!
I came up with an elaborate scheme with help from my friend Melanie. In theory, I should be able to send my passport back to her in Australia. Once she receives it, she can add the required bank cheque and then forward it on to the embassy in Canberra. But even this scheme has its flaws, as I was told by a passing tourist that in India, it was against the law to send a passport out of the country unaccompanied. After a quick call to the courier company, established that this was indeed correct and I will need a letter from New Zealand Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, stating I was allowed to do so. Just another hoop to jump through.
I could have stayed in Hampi for another week at least, but I had to get on to this task before I ran out of time. Grudgingly leaving Hampi behind I rode towards Goa. It was going to be a long dusty ride, but I made sure I left earlier enough to make it one day.
Colva beach wasn’t going to be interesting, It was just another resort village full of package tourist mainly from Russia. Less than 6 kilometres away was a small township of Margo, which had everything I needed, from a great market to a courier company.

My guest house owners made me fish curry and rice, because they thought I wasn’t eating enough.

It was so tasty I had to take a photo!

I had two frogs in my room when I moved in, this little fulla (which disappeared shortly after I got rid of the other one..) and one who lived in the toilet. I ‘accidentally’ flushed him after he jumped onto my bottom! 

I found a nice little mud cottage, at the rear of a family house. It was simple, but it was quiet and it had a desk with a chair. I was going to be stuck here until my passport returned, so I had to make sure I was happy. In India, most guest houses require you to fill out a tourist form and have to view and photocopy the passport. Even though I had many copies, it was too risky to change guest houses.
I spent the weekend filling out forms, photocopying my passport and printing out the required government letters and letters of introductions from Australian Geographic and myself. I had decided not only to apply for a Pakistan visa, but a second New Zealand passport. The problem with this is that I needed someone appropriate to witness me signing the statuary declaration.
I thought the easiest method would be going to the police station. Each time I told my request, I was passed on to the next officer up, until I finally reached the superintendent.
 I was asked into a massive room on the top floor of the police station. The room was sparsely furnished and He sat behind the typically large wooden desk. As I walked closer to him, he abruptly asked for my name, country and what I wanted. After I told him the issue, he then shock his head and said he couldn’t help me as I didn’t know him, I didn’t grown up in this area, therefore he could not sign such a piece of paper. Maybe I could try a lawyer.
A lawyer! I thought, not only is this going to be really expensive but its going to take a long time. I thanked the superintendent and he offered his services any time I need it – This is one of those times buddy, but you still cannot help me!
I found a lawyer’s office, but the man hadn’t turned up for the day. I sat quietly on the hard wooden bench for an hour, when the man walked in and I was finally asked for the document. Two young office girls licked and stuck four massive postal stamps on to the document, almost covering up a fourth of the page. They then pulled out a metal stamp with long wooden handle and with a bang they had placed a round blue ink stamp over the top of them. Walking through the two wooden wild west swing doors to the actual office of the lawyer, they asked him to sign it. Since I was sending my passport off, I thought I better get an official copy of it too.
Verified copy of passport and visa

As I walked out of the office I felt proud of myself. I had managed to complete a task in under three hours and I still had time before the shops shut for their long lunch break. To be honest, I was concerned, wondering if the New Zealand passport office will accept my statuary declaration, with all the Indian official stamps on it!
Putting everything into a courier bag with two sets of instructions, one for each application. I sent it off to Australia.
For the next few weeks, it was the only thing on my mind – where was my passport? Is it safe? Am I stuck here in India? Besides freaking out, I actually had a whole A4 piece of paper scribbled full of things to do, from blog writing, cartoon drawing, clothes mending to motorcycle maintenance.
After two weeks being cooped up like a chicken in my room, I walked into my favourite local restaurant for a Masala Dosa dinner, when I heard my name being called. Turning to where the sound came from, I was stunned to discover I was looking at Jan and Pat, a Dutch couple, riding a Royal Enfield, who I met through Daphne and Colin weeks ago!
To have two familiar faces suddenly pop up out of the blue, is just amazing. I just couldn’t believe my eyes – neither could they! When you are travelling alone, you really appreciate the people who you meet time and time again and enjoy their company.
The following day, I hear a knock at my door. Turning in my plastic chair, I find Daphne and Colin peering in! Another amazing surprise! I was completely blown away as I had truly thought I wouldn’t ever see them again.
During my third week in Goa, I had completely forgotten my ‘to do list’, as I spent most of my time doing day trips out of Colva and having amazing dinner / breakfast parties.

The Motomonkey Bike is squeeze into a spot on the small ferry
Riding off the ferry Pat tried to get a photo of me, but this is typical India, there is always some one in the way! 

Colin and Daphne at the beach! -Photo thanks to Pat

I became support crew and filmed the two ‘Collywood Stars’ Colin and Daphne while they rode their bike.

I just realised how bad this must look leaving from a bar! 

Im positive they are talking about Enfields! 

This particular ferry had more breathing room!

Jan and I were completely suck in the middle of it!

The two lovely Enfeild ladies, Dahpne and Pat


At the end of the third week, I finally received my passport and was able to leave. The problem was, I hadn’t finished crossing everything off my list! I still had to do a service on my bike!
This visa looks boring! I want a prettier one – I think this is the plainest
 looking visa I have in my passport. 

The day before I wanted to leave, I stripped my bike down, letting the oil drip out in to a cut off five litre water bottle. I washed my air filter and oil filter. While they were drying, I decided to do a check on everything else. My fort boots, had completely disintegrated, I am now left with plastic rings! I could wrap electrical tape around each plastic ring, but there would be more tape than anything else – I am going to have to design another method of keeping the dust out of the seals.
Front Fork Boots

In Indonesia I had realised something wasn’t quiet right with my front sprocket. As It would move from side to side on the spline, causing unusual wear on the guard and the chain. Removing the front sprocket cover to inspect it, I wasn’t ready for the surprise I found.

Front sprocket after I took the guard off.

You can see that some of the teeth have snapped off!

Over half of each tooth on the sprocket had been snapped off, only three out of the 14 were still standing. There was no way, I could drive anywhere like this, I had to change my sprocket. Before I could set to work removing the sprocket, I realised that the bike has a old fashion way to hold the sprocket on the shaft using circlip pliers. This is something I don’t carry with me, but something I can either find at a bike shop or just buy. This meant I had to take a trip into town to sort it out.
After the air filter had dried, I re-greased the air filter and re-installed it. Then the oil filter. Once the bike was together again, I went to fetch the oil – as I broke the plastic seal, I realised that I had brought normal 10w-50 a light truck oil. I was so excited to finally find 10w-50 I forgot to check if it was for a four stroke engine or not. It wasn’t. Now I had a bike with a broken sprocket I couldn’t fix and no oil in it. On top of all that, I had to ride it into town to sort it all out to still be able to leave tomorrow!
I fought a small internal battle about whether it would make a difference to use the light truck oil or not. I actually nearly put it in, but then I remembered on my last trip when I was in Russia, all I could find was oil for trucks or cars. This wasn’t a problem until two months later I had to replace my rockers and cam lobes. This might not have been the cause of damage, but I didn’t want that to happen again, all because I was too lazy to take a six kilometres bus ride back to the bike shop. So I forced myself to walk out to the local bus stop.
When it finally arrive, I was push onto the already packed bus. I was standing in the aisle next to men with shot guns between their legs, a lady who kept on pushing her small child in front of me, then decided that she wanted to stand at the back and pushed everyone onto the seats as she squeezed her large bottom down the narrow aisle. Scowling at her, I tried to hold on tight as the bus driver sped around corners, slammed on the breaks, sped up with his foot flat on the gas until once again he would slam on the breaks. I was tossed around like a plastic bag stuck in the wind on a busy highway. It made me appreciate riding my motorcycle which was stuck at my guest house!
Thirty minutes later, I arrived into Margo, when I got a call from Jan. ‘I’ll come and get you and drive you around town.’ My saviour, it was hot and I had no idea where I was going to find circlip pliers AND I get a ride on the back of an Enfield!
I swapped the oil over to proper four stroke oil 20w-50 4T without any problems. Then we went on a mission to find a tool shop that sold circlip pliers. After been sent to a few different shops, eventually we found it and I brought a pair for 100 IRP ($2 AUS). It’s a pity I forgot about this small detail before I left Australia as I am sure I could have adapted one of my existing tools to do the same thing. This is going to be something for me to develop in the future, so I don’t have to continue carrying a single use tool. Jan dropped me off at my guest house and I got straight to work.
With everything finally back together and in good running order after a test run, I was finally able to leave. I packed my bags, said goodbye to everyone. After spending three weeks in one place, I actually felt a bit nervous to be back on the road again, with the unexplored places ahead of me.
Goodbye Goa! 

Beautiful Hampi

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I walk around the township of Hampi, with a clear head. I was finally awake enough to see the finer details. Lining the streets was small tourist trinket shops all begging you to come into there shops. I walked straight pasted and headed for the surrounding rocks, temples and stones.

It is really hard to write about this town, so I am just going to post photographs to show you what is like. To date this is my favorite place in India. I could have stayed here for much longer, but I had to get somewhere to organize my Pakistan visa. 

In the morning the cows were herded through the city to the feild

These are a lot like the round fishing boats I saw in Vietnam

I watched this woman curl up in the shade of this stone and fall sleep… Indians can sleep anywhere

I came across this tree, it had small bags and cloth tied to the tree with stones to weight it down

And piles of stones around the base of the tree

A woman carrying refreshments on her head

No matter where you go in India you always find a single shoe

Another one

Everyone in the world has to do their washing, its a common thing which i love to look at.

Filling up their water buckets

A small detail carved into the temple walls

On my second day of wondering, I got out my Ipod, listening to Indian

I actually just finished filming myself when I turned around and nearly stood on this guy. Thats before he climbed the wall!

And one more lost shoe – does the owner walk with only one on to go home?

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

Video – please visit my website as the video does not work in email form.
Every morning, I would come out of my guest house to find these goat still in bed!

I walked to the top of the mountain that towers above the village. I had to be very careful as the huge pieces of stone were actually quite loose and in some places I had to climb over large bolders

http://www.youtube.com/get_player

Video – please visit my website as the video does not work in email form.

On the other side, I found nice new set of stairs.

Every time i turned around I could help but gasp at the contrast between the natural stone and the carefully constructed stone stair case.

At the bottom, I found myself in this tiny path, coming around the corner I scared the living s**t out of myself and a local! 

I ended up here, in an over grown field.




20th of March

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A common question that is always pops up from my friends, family and readers is, ‘why are you doing this?‘. I have many answers to that question ranging from the simple – ‘I love to travel‘, to more in depth answers such as ‘wanting to inspire people- especially women- to take a leap off the fence and follow their desires.’ But even these answers had to come from somewhere and I have realised mine come directly from my family.

It helped to have two parents who took me travelling through Europe at the age of seven. Hearing stories of my father travelling through Africa in his tweenies and being home schooled from the most beautiful and remote part of New Zealand also helped. But what it really boils down to is one event that happened in my family almost ten years ago. 

When I was 20 years old my mother (aged 37) was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. No matter how much fighting my mother did, it sadly took her away from us only six months later. Breast cancer, we have since discovered runs in our family genes. Three out of four women (my mother and two of her sisters) have had breast cancer. Thankfully for us the other two sisters are survivors. We are now finding out that some of us in the next generation also have this deformity in our genes.

At that time of my mothers death, I felt as if I was bumbling along in life. Borrowing dreams of others, not caring about my own future or love of life. It seamed as if that was to be my life. When I finally woke from the daze of mourning my mother several months later, I opened my eyes with a fresh view of life. I could now see so much potential in myself, something that I now realise that my parents were trying to give me all along with my quirky up bringing.

Because of my mothers short life, I now have a complete understanding of how brief life can be. Not wanting to waste a single moment and having inherrited my mothers stubborn ways, I have the urge to attempt every dream I have. This is why you now find me in India on a motorcycle,planning to reach and circumnavigate Africa, hoping I open your eyes up to the world as my mother did for me.

On an Indian ferry on my way to Anjuna Markets in Goa

From Dawn to Dusk Over Three Towns

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The sun hadn’t peered over the surrounding hills to burn the light fog that hung in the air. Shivering as I loaded my bike, I was hungry and felt dirty as I hadn’t been able to force my body into the freezing cold water for the entire time I’ve been here. There were only three guys to watch me today, two of which I had to wake up and ask them to move their car in order for me to get my bike out of the secure area. I warmed my engine and left town before anyone could miss me.

The rays of light laid its warm fingers on me as I followed the winding road higher into the hill, dipping in and out of the cool crevasse that formed the valleys. As time fell away I could see people starting to stir and move their stiff joints into the sun.

Arriving at the saddle of the hill, I peered over the edge down the steep road that wound its way to a plateau that open out in front of me. The road was so narrow and with one bend after another, I was forced to hold my thumb firmly over the horn to ensure people do not blindly come around the corner on the wrong side of the road. I was expecting to hit a wall of heat as soon as I arrived at the bottom of the hill, but surprisingly it was still really quite cool.

Tea Plantation 



A barrier that blocked the road was lifted by a young man dress in a tidy crisp clean police uniform. Not know what it was for and I wasn’t about to stop and ask, I rode under the rising boom gate and kept on going. Passing one sign after another, stating ‘please do not to stop’, ‘Please do not get out of cars’ and ‘warning elephants may cross’. When I passed a ‘Warning tigers may cross’ sign I had to stop and take a picture as I just realised I had entered into a national park. I was trying to shove my nervous thoughts aside, as this was real life training for Africa. The problem was, I never saw a single piece of wildlife except for one bird doing the suicide dive in front of my bike.



Before I knew it, the barrier to indicate I was now leaving the park was in front of me, so I rode under it as it was starting to rise. Sadly, I hit the busy main road to took me directly to central city of Mysore.

Riding into Mysore, I instantly fell in love with the place. It was a nice, clean and quiet city. I found the hotel within minutes and a few moments later was shown to the last single room available. Again the room reflected the city, as it was amazingly clean and really cheap. Walking into the bathroom I discovered I had hotwater! Standing under the steaming water, I felt my muscles relaxed and the grime of three days dissolved down into the drain pipe.

This is my lovely room in Mysore

And its hot water shower!


Incense sticks, piles of colourful pigments, flowers and essential oils all leaped out at me as soon as I walked through the concrete arch into the central market. Between the smells and the visual delights, I couldn’t decide which alley way to walk down. Making a sharp right I walk down one, only to be pulled into a small store. ‘Your from Australia!’ A store owner exclaimed.
‘No, I work in Australia.’ knowing full well he was reading my Australian Geographic tee-shirt I was wearing.
‘Have you seen this before?’ pointing to the individual bins of neatly piled pigments.
‘No, actually I haven’t', quietly dieing to take a photo but not wanting to purchase anything, I may just have my chance here.
‘Come, you mix these with water’ as he puts a small spoon into a bowl then mix it with a few drops of water made intense pink paint. Grabbing my hand he draws a small flower. Dropping my hand, he picks up a bottle on essential oil. ‘Here try this…’ Before he could dab my neck with this strong smelling stuff, I stepped back and said ‘ No, I’m allergic to that stuff’
It was one small white lie but I really do not like strong smelling stuff. Walking off, I felt a bit bad as he tried his best to sell me stuff I just cannot carry on my bike.



The next aisle I came upon happened to be crammed full of people all trying to bargain hard, yelling over each other for a bag of flowers. Piles of white and yellow flowers stood high in each booth, with men sitting behind carefully stuffing them into plastic bags. Some people sat in the middle of the aisle, threading flowers onto a thin white cotton thread. The long lengths were also sold to people per centimetre. These were also for praying, for tieing into girls hair and to make your car smell nice.



The next day I walked down to the Palace, after I walked around the outside taking a few photos trying to capture the complete building. I was then forced to put my camera away in a special storage box. Moving onto the next storage building I deposited my shoes with the man and received my token. Following everyone into the palace, I found myself for once pleasantly surprised at how beautiful the palace was. The intricate details in concrete, metal and glass mixed with the perfect colour combination. I just stood there letting people pass me, as I stood gazing around me, sucking in all the details.



I found this link on the internet, which will give you a 360 deg view of the palace.http://www.mysorepalace.tv/360_Eng/index.html

While I was gazing about me, I stood in a small puddle. Shaking the droplets off my bare foot I looked up and saw a woman pull the pants off a small crying child. Slightly disgusted, but at the same time remembering my younger brother doing similar stuff when he was that age.

Here are some internal shots stolen from the internet – since they didn’t allow me to have the camera

The walls were lined with paintings dictating the history of the palace.

The golden door

These columns were made in England and sent over here. The stain glass ceiling (not shown) as also sent over



Faster than I wanted I found myself in the bright sun. Hopping across the hot pavers, I wanted to head to the armory. I had heard and read that the armoury was really amazing. But as I stood outside the entrance hopping from one foot to the other I was disappointed and annoyed that I had to pay another 250 IRP on top of the 200 IRP I paid to enter the building (locals only pay 20 IRP for each). This I think is a massive scam and I wasn’t going to be a part of it. My feet burning on the hot pavement, I ran back into the mayhem of the shoe deposit to collect my shoes.

Before I left the next morning, I met a couple who spent last year travelling around the north on a Royal Enfield. Leaving India three months later completely hating the traffic, the people etc. Only to return this year to try it again, as a normal tourist, and now they love India, finding this way a much better way to travel. I couldn’t argue with them, in fact I was already thinking I don’t think I will bring a motorcycle into India again.

That day I had a short ride to Bangalore. I didn’t want to go to this large busy city, but I wanted to drop into a special shop that deals with Indian block printing from the north states of India.

I did some research and found a local hotel that has secure, off the street parking. Got into a tuk tuk and drove to the shop – the tuk tuk driver didnt take my instructions, he drove slowly past a golf course and repeating ‘Nothing is here look!’ I knew that there was a golf course and we had to go past it, it would have been easier if he turned when I said so. Then he stops just before a large busy intersection. ‘Look there is nothing here’
‘Just drive, its over there’ pointing past the intersection.
‘No that just goes to airport’
Impatient I leaped out of the tuk tuk and storm straight through the middle of the intersection. He must have realised he didn’t get my his money and chased me across the intersection, pulling up next to me yelling about his money.
‘No way, you didn’t take me to the place, so you get no money. I clearly showed you the address, I have a map and you still don’t take me to the right place. So no money!’ This isn’t normally what you would do but I had completely lost it. Built up stress about the traffic, crazy drivers, mixed with a shitty city and a lazy driver just tipped me over the edge. He then agreed, ok, ok I will take you just get back into the tuk tuk. I get back in and he drives me 10 meters to my destination. Even more upset, I get out slam the money hard into his hand and said ‘You do not deserve this money’

Walking up to the shop, I tried to calm down and be normal. The shops guard saw everything, I hang my head in shame and force a smile and a quick hello to him. As soon as I entered the shop, all my tension dissolved as I was stunned at the amazing fabrics, clothing and bits and pieces that were for sale. Finally I found something that was a nice mixture of traditional technique with western taste.

Later I walk back to my guest house, I was asked several times along the way if I need a tuk tuk but when I said I just want to go to a hotel, they refused me and said we only do shopping trips.

Coming from a peaceful town of Mysore to this horrible city, all I felt like doing is hiding in my room. So that’s exactly what I did, I hid in my room watching tv and only ventured out for dinner. I set my alarm for 6 am the next morning, and left 30 minutes later. The best thing about leaving this early, was the fact there was no traffic on the road and I was able to take it easy guiding myself out of the city, stopping to ask directions from time to time.

I had a long day ahead of me, it was around 340 km to Hampi. The first 2/3 of my day was on a wide open motorway. Completely boring, but necessary to complete the kilometres I was hoping to do. When I stopped to fill my motorcycle up with fuel I found out that either I was suddenly using more fuel or someone had taken some the night before in the hotel parking lot. This just added to my pile of grudges against Bangalore.

The last 70 kilometres was on a small local road, worn with years of heavy trucks. Dust filled pot holes made the trucks slow right down, but I was able to dart around them fairly quickly and arrive into Hampi at mid afternoon. Completely exhausted and dusty. I fell asleep on my bed waking just in time to watch the warm sun set behind the beautiful smooth stones.




Interview on Sidestand Up!

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‘Sidestand Up’ is an American based weekly radio show, and Tom has kindly invited me to be apart of his segment! 
Get details on Sidestand Up.

Two weeks ago, I wasn’t able to get online to call Tom from ‘Sidestand Up’. I had a complete internet failure for a whole 24hours. I was able to send a sms to my friend Louise who kindly send on an apology from me explaining my situation.

Luckily for me, he completely understands and now I get my second chance. This Tuesday (8th of March) night at 8:30pm (Florida time) I will be on air explaining my adventure. 

How to listen in :
There are several ways if you are either in America or can get online during that time, you can then listen live
By phone – 1-724-444-7444
or
Listen online and participate in the live chat room. 


Outside of America or those who cannot get online at the right time,then you need to down load it through Itunes podcast. 


Now its easy to sign up to a podcast – just click the link on his website 
(Past shows available on i-Tunes) . A prompt will appear asking you if it is ok to open I-tunes. I-tunes will open and you will see a list of  ’sidestand up’ episodes. Click on the 8th of March and hear my voice! (just remember I am towards the end of the show and the show is only available to down load later on during the day)

Now if you do not have I-tunes, and you want to listen to it when you want too, you need to down load I-tunes and install it. (Its free and easy to install) Here is a link to Itunes. Just follow the prompts. 

If anyone has any trouble, just give me an email, and I can answer any questions and try and help out as much as possible! 
A picture of Tom Lowdermilk


Onwards to Ooty

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I left Colin and Daphne behind in Kolvam as their bike needed a new fork seals and a few other minor repairs, I headed off to my next destination. I was lucky as I had meet another Dutch couple who travelled in India every year for four months at a time , on their Royal Enfield. They were able to tell me that if I follow the state highway north to Alleppey, I was going to be driven mad with the amount of traffic. Therefore I should turn off and ride on the smaller road that runs parallel with it. Taking note of their suggestion, I left but I was unsure how I was going to get onto this road.

On a closer look the boats panels are stitched together



Sure enough I was stuck in hectic, unpredictable traffic that stopped a lot. Within minutes I was hot and bothered. I then saw a brand new intersection, with a massive sign pointing down there. I had no idea where that town was, but it was pointing in the direction of the quieter road I had been told about. I double backed and turned down it. I was alone on this wide newly paved road. Sweeping past the odd truck or bus, I felt myself cheering up. But it still was nothing like the amazing day before.

I followed the road for ages, watching the sun’s shadows to see which direction I was heading in. Itseemed to me I was heading in the right direction and could have possibly ended up on the right road! A name of a township matched my map and I could finally confirm this indeed was the right road. But I think this road has since been developed since the last time the Dutch couple drove down it, at least there wasn’t heaps of traffic.

Several hours later, I turned off and followed a small road that links back up to the main highway just south of my destination for that day. As I rode along this road, I had local families in saloon cars slow to match my speed, winding their windows down to take photographs of me. All smiling and giving me the thumbs up before leaving me in their dusty wake.

I was passing amazing canals, some larger than others. The smaller ones were over grown with lotus plants. I could see men dressed only in a sarong, pushing their long sleek brown boat down the canal only using a stick. On the larger canals, I saw large houseboats either tied to the dock or in full steam. These houseboats were constructed from timber but have a woven palm leaf thrown over to create shade on one of the balconies. I’ve always wanted to live in/on a boat, these are like floating mansions.



When I arrived into the township, I found the cheapest guest house to date (in India) at 125 IPR ($2.70 AUS). The only down side was I had to park the bike on the street, without any security fence. My room was really nice, its was just a simple plain concrete room and for this price included an ensuite, which smelt like sewerage (I think they do not design air traps within their sewerage pipes which prevents this from happening in our own homes). That night, I couldn’t help waking at every yell or bang that came from the street. I wasn’t able to check on my bike as it was under a huge verandah, blocking my view from the balcony above.

I had to decided if I was going to go on one of these boat trips. It was expensive, for twenty-four hours of floating time including all meals it was going to cost me over $100 AUS. For me this was the equivalent of four days of travelling. I couldn’t justify it, and that day I decided to leave.

I had another worry appearing in front of me. I knew I was going to have to deal with it sooner or later, so with me being me, I tried to sort most of it out right then and there. I rang the Pakistan Embassy in New Delhi and ask directly if they are issuing visa for foreigners. The answer was no, only for Indians.  This matched the information I had received through the internet. I asked about a shorter transit visa and they had no idea what I was talking about, therefore I hung the phone up with a sinking feeling.

I had two other back up plans. First one was to contact the Pakistan Embassy in Australia and the second was to ship my bike around Pakistan. As you can imagine, I wasn’t very happy about the second option, it’s not what I had planned and it was quite a costly exercise. But if forced to I will do it.

I rang the Embassy in Australia and they told me I could get a visa through them, it takes around a week. Excited, I explained the whole circumstances - I am in India, I am a New Zealander and my friend Melanie will be sending you my passport on my behalf. This was all fine, except for the issue I wasn’t Australian. You need to attach a copy of your residency visa or apply in New Zealand. New Zealanders do not require a residency visa or anything, the embassy should know this! I also didn’t want to apply in New Zealand, as I don’t have any bank accounts or a return address in New Zealand. They finally saw my point and asked if I can attach anything that will prove I am a resident of Australia, which of course I could supply, bank accounts, drivers licence and medicare card. With that problem solved, I was happy.

I decided to jump past the capital of Kerala, instead travelled further north via the same quiet road I took the day before completely bypassing the city. I ended up in a small town called Thrissur. A small town with a central temple. The wooden gate house had amazing details and I was really interested in entering the temple but was turned away because I wasn’t a Hindu.



My room I got for the night was on the fifth floor. While taking the elevator up, another tourist stepped into the lift. ‘Oh my, another white person! Its been months since I’ve seen one’. I knew exactly how she felt even though two days ago I was at a beach full of them.

I’ve decided to move more quickly than I had been in Tamil Nadu, I was starting to worry about how long I was going to be without a passport, and had to find a place that would be perfect to bunker down in for a few weeks while I waited for it to be returned to me. Plus my Indian visa is only for three months, and I haven’t seen anything in the north yet!

Leaving Thrissur around 7am, after grabbing only a coffee as none of the food shops had opened. I will have to stop along the way. Today was going to be a long day, the kilometres were not great, it was the fact I will be heading back up into the cool mountains where you are forced to travel a lot slower.

Sure enough I arrive into Ooty around four in the afternoon. Despite the fact I have a town map ripped out of my guide book and stuffed into my tank bag map holder, I still got lost in the town and for ages could not find the town centre. When stopping to ask locals, they often (like us) get our left and rights mixed up, therefore I had to reverse their instructions and eventually, I found it and found a nice quiet guest house just out of the town centre with lockable motorcycle parking.

After four days of travelling quite quickly, I was a bit exhausted and spent the next day wandering around this cute small village with its rickety houses and narrow paths between. People raved about this town, but even though I was enjoying the cool air and a rest, I saw nothing to hold me here for any longer. Tomorrow I will move on again.

Ooty’s market

I loved the grass growing on the roofs


Something From The Movies

Posted on by in Australia No Comments
It first started in Australia, but since then there has been many comments made to me about how much I look like something out of the movies! 
Ok, sure enough, I wear a helmet, motorcycle boots, pants and an amour jacket. On my back I carry a small backpack that contains my water-bladder. 
What do the locals wear you ask, only a sarong and a shirt! 

Motomonkey Advenutures Online Tee-Shirt Shop

Posted on by in Shop Talk No Comments

I have just launched an online ‘Cafepress’ tee-shirt shop‘! (Click here to view)

White T-Shirt Men's Fitted T-Shirt (dark)

Women's Tank Top
These are just a few of the examples of the different tee-shirts / single types.



The current tee-shirt design clearly shows my website and slogan ’1 woman, 1 adventure, 70,000km, 2 years’ written around a two tone world map and the motomonkey logo. On the lighter colour tee-shirts you get to see my route in a different tone. 


I will be changing the designs of these tee-shirts through out my adventures. Therefore I have added a date stamp to show when you supported Motomonkey Adventures! 


Design for lighter tee-shirt colours

Design for lighter tee-shirt colours