I'm in Changi Airport, Singapore, preparing to fly off to Cairns. Before I go, let me update you quickly on the fascinating occurances of the past 24 hours. As you can see I have adopted the hyper formal and grammatically suspect vocabulary of Asian English.

I got a bus down from KL, and I just so happened to be sitting next to the only other white guy on the bus. It wasn't until half way there that he heard me speak to the driver and deduced from my accent that I was Irish. Turns out he was from Westmeath! I was the first Irish person he had spoken to since January. He was a chemical engineer who  quit his Dublin job 14 months ago to go travel around the world. He started in Budapest and travelled OVER LAND to Bangkok! What a legend! His passport looked like a patchwork quilt for a mouse! He was on his way to a job interview in Singapore before finally flying home to make sure Ireland was still there. I myself am not sure - I have yet to hear the election results and am bursting with anticipation to find out what happened. If you happen to know and are reading this within the next 48 hours, feel free to send me a message and let me know.

When I arrived back in Singapore I went straight to the nearest hawker centre and ordered myself a nice big ass bowl of turtle soup. Seeing all those cute little turtles swimming around in the aquarium in KL had given me quite the appetite! The illustration of the turtle soup was particularly appetising - it was just a turtle on a plate. The soup looked anything but appetising but it tasted ok. It's still not going to replace spaghetti hoops! I was the only customer in the immediate vicinity so the owner of the particular stall sat down with me for a chat. He was a skinny seventy year old Chinese man with snow white stubble and wizened features. We spoke of Ireland, of Singapore, of cultural differences and of the mind-broadening abilities of travel. He seemed to be somewhat impressed with me because he insisted on buying me a beer and even tried to buy me some "Western food" because he feared that his own wares would not be suitable for my sensitive white stomach. He was a very nice gentleman but obviously not a very shrewd businessman if he goes buying his customers food after they've bought his from him. He assured me that turtle soup "make you strong!" He told me that Singapore's Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew (which I'm sure I misspelt) was the smartest man in Singapore for two reasons - firstly...he had three brains (woah...that must get heavy) and secondly he tends to deport any smart people that move to Singapore. Old Chinese people can be rather superstitious and believe in fortune tellers and all that jazz. Chinese fortune tellers read not only the lines on your palm but also your facial features. I was quite chuffed when he informed me that I had very good facial features - this is not something I hear very often so it's nice to hear it even if it's from a seventy year old Chinese man. He said I had a big mouth (that one I've heard before but never in a positive way) so that when I spoke people would listen and respect my wisdom! He said I had a strong nose and  a good broad forehead. However, my one flaw was my ears. This I was already aware of. The edges of most peoples ears curl inwards but mine curl outwards. He said this is a sign that I am stubborn and headstrong and it's always my way or the highway. I refuse to take heed of advice and rely entirely on my own opinion. I don't think this is entirely true. I do take other people's opinions into account and I evaluate them carefully before rejecting them in favour of my own. When I left he gave me very animated directions to the nearest subway station and asked me to take a picture of his stall to show people at home. He gave me his address and asked that I write to him when I get home so I promised I would. Now that kind of experience you will not get in McDonalds even if the food here was a little funky. 

After lunch I went to the beach on Sentosa Island to watch some of the ladies who were there to compete in the women's beach volleyball world championships as they trained. They are very athletic. Sentosa Island is a wonderful place full of all kinds of expensive attractions that could keep you amused for days. The beaches look like something straight off a travel agent's sun brochure. Hopefully I'll manage to upload a few photos of it (and of the volleyball players) after I get through the massive Malaysia backlog hopefully sometime this weekend. Right now though, I'm focusing my sights on the sunny (but far more bearable - about 25C) Cairns.

So I went to Batu caves today. It was crazy. The place was full of animals walking around - loads of monkeys, cats and pigeons, even a big iguana and a python. The monkeys were very cheeky and would come right up to you. If you had food then you were a target and liable to be monkey-mugged! Apparently, when Hindus come here on pilgrimage there can be up to 1 million of them at the caves!!! They walk thirteen kilometres while carrying heavy shrines weighing up to 100kg which are attached to their skin by lots of little hooks. They don't even bleed. Apparently, to avoid bleeding when the skin is pierced, all they do is give up meat and sex for a month beforehand! This certainly is a strange country. It's full of mopeds and all the moped drivers drive around while wearing their jackets back to front. I think they would be just as warm if they just wore them the right way around and zipped them up. Then you see people walking around with umbrellas to shield themselves with the sun. I mean that's just weird...umbrellas are for rain. I can't see an Irish girl blocking out the sun!

After Batu caves, we went to meet up with a pleasant girl from Hospitality Club called Apple. After hanging around KLCC (Kuala Lumpur City Centre) for a while, we went out to Chinatown to get harassed by watch sellers and the like. We went around from stall to stall buying strange unrecognisable fruits for me to try. I lined up some samples and took a photo for your convenience. They were all really sweet and apart from being difficult to get out of their thick skin, and the presence of an annoying stone, I thorougly approve of all these fruits and wish they were available in Ireland. Then we had some kind of pork soup in a very strange looking sizzly pot for dinner. Afterwards, we went out to this really cool place by a lake that had a big ferris wheel called the KL Eye. It's basically the London Eye only in KL. There was a mad laser light show on. It felt like an excellent place to have an outdoor disco with the National Gallery right next door and Petronas Towers and KL Tower on the horizon.

I had plenty of time to talk to Wyman and Apple today about all things Malaysian. I have come to the conclusion (which I think is a pretty fair one although I'm always open to debate) that while the government is run largely by Muslims, the Chinese and Indians are willing to allow them to have their cake and eat it too and put up with a certain amount of inequality for the greater good. Meanwhile, they rule the world of commerce, the Chinese being notorious all over the world for being ruthless businessmen and very hard workers due to their love affair with money. The balance between the government and the world of commerce is a delicate one but I think that the prevailing attitude is that they each leave each other alone as much as possible and it seems to work ok. I still wouldn't like to live here - the colour of my skin would always make me a blow in and a target for being ripped off, or to translate directly from the Chinese idiom, to have one's head chopped off. Nevertheless, I would like to see more of Malaysia some day. I am told the Cameron Highlands as well as the many island resorts are well worth visiting, and the very low cost of living here means that I may very well explore them when I'm old and want a more relaxing holiday. So my ultimate verdict on Malaysia? Do come here, but leave enough time to explore the countryside. Good luck!

So now I'm in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I crossed the border on the bus, stopping twice to go through Singapore and Malaysian customs respectively. Between the two stops, we were surrounded on both sides by dense jungle with very high barriers on both sides of the road to stop people from sneaking into the country. Once we got over the Malaysian border, the landscape changed fairly dramatically with the jungle becoming much denser and there was simply more of it. It seemed to stretch on forever over the hills on the horizon. We saw groups of farmers here and there wearing those stereotypical chinaman hats as they tended to the palms from which they harvest palm oil. Here and there we saw the odd tin-roofed shack standing on its own in a jungle clearing. Once we pulled into Kuala Lumpur, I realized I was in a very different country to Singapore. Most of the skyscrapers incorporated elements of Islamic architecture. We were dumped unceremoniously onto the side of an appallingly busy street without so much as a by your leave. The heat was stifling and there were far too many people milling about. I had a rucksack on my back and had no idea where I was. I was pointed towards the bus station by the grumpy driver who couldn't even be bothered dropping us to the actual terminal. In the five minutes that it took me to get to the terminal I was approached by about a dozen different people trying to sell me something in a language/dialect that was utterly incomprehensible to me. Having just got off a six hour bus journey and emerged into 30C temperatures, this was the last thing I needed. The terminal was worse than the street, There was no arrivals area, just dozens of crappy little stalls all selling the same useless trinkets and people annoying you by trying to sell you bus tickets to somewhere you didn't want to go. I can't understand this! If I want to buy a bus ticket I will tell YOU – you don't ask ME! Luckily, I managed to contact my host Wyman on a payphone and he came and rescued me from the madness. I was relieved to immediately recognize that he was sound and notably not trying to sell me anything! I wouldn't be totally lost without him but I would be a lot more lost. It is really really helpful having him with me because it means I don't get ripped off all the time for being white and he knows his way around and all the best places to go so I don't have to go to the trouble of finding out for myself. He's taken me around everywhere and showed me everything himself which has been a weight off my mind. The only problem is he keeps trying to pay for everything eventhough I'm already staying in his house for free! He took me to Chinatown where loads more people tried to get me to buy everything from pirated porn to fake Gucci handbags. Seriously, these people really need to do some market research – how many men buy fake Gucci handbags? Nothing but the genuine article for me! We found a tiny little charmingly grotty Chinese eatery hidden away behind some umbrellas. I had to duck to get in the door. The food was good and I quickly realized just how cheap Malaysia is. A meal for two cost somewhere in the region of three euro. After escaping from the Chinese vendors, we explored a Hindu temple and a Buddhist temple. Then we went to the colonial district where we saw Merdeka Square (literally Independence Square) with all the official looking Islamic buildings around it. After that we checked out a cool aquarium with some of Malaysia's native tropical fish and reptiles and then we strolled around KLCC park at the foot of Petronas Towers – the second tallest building in the world. I also heard the Muslim call to prayer being broadcast from Mosques very very loudly, which happens five times a day. It sounds like a woman singing but it's actually a man singing very strangely.

            Malaysia is a very different place to Singapore. It's far more culturally intense. I'm getting a much deeper experience of a foreign culture here than I did in Singapore but I'm glad I went to Singapore first because I needed to be led into it gently in order to avoid culture shock. The standard of living here is lower but the main difference the racial makeup of the country. It's roughly 50% Malay/Muslim, 35% Chinese, 15% Indian. However, the country seems to be utterly dominated by the Muslims. They are very over-represented in government and there is huge corruption with government officials being WAY richer than they should be. Apparently there have been suspicions that elections have been rigged. The gap between rich and poor is massive. Also there seems to be a lot of inequality in favour of Muslims. Apparently, grants are available to poor Muslim families that aren't available to poor Chinese or Indian families. If I thought Singapore was conservative then it ain't got nothing on Malaysia. Public displays of affection are not allowed and a law was proposed recently to ban holding hands in public! Different laws apply to different religions and everyone's religion is noted on their ID card. If you want to change your religion you have to inform the government by going down to the police station and filing some paperwork.

            On the other hand though, Malaysia seems even more diverse than Singapore. Walking down the street you are likely to see women in long colourful Malaysian dresses with equally colourful headscarves, women in saris, women in burqas, women in business suits and women in shorts and string tops. Consequently, there is a richer cultural experience to be enjoyed here even if it does feel a little dodgy at night in places. Plus, did I mention how much cheaper it is. The Malaysian Ringit is worth less than a quarter of a euro and a good rule of thumb is that if something should cost a euro at home then it should cost 2RM here – half price. What you all want to know (if you're Irish anyway) is how much is a pint and how much is a house. Well unlike Singapore, drinks are way cheaper here. You're talking about one euro fifty cent for a pint and for the most upmarket condo in the most expensive part of Kuala Lumpur city centre you will pay around 100,000 euro! Before you all rush over here (as I hear hundreds of barstools being scraped back on the floors of Irish pubs) just keep in mind that it is seriously hot over here and your pasty Irish skin would probably peel off in a matter of seconds. It does make a lot more sense to come to Malaysia for a two or three week beach holiday than it does going to Santa Ponza [FEN: The Myrtle Beach of Spain] for a week. Going to Malaysia is a lot more like actually leaving the country and you might actually see someone who's not Irish or English!

            I've also been expanding my taste buds here and yesterday I had a battered banana. Yeah a deep fried banana! I know it sounds so wrong, but believe me, it actually tastes so right! I'm convinced that all bananas from now on should be deep fried! Yesterday, I went up to the top of KL Tower, the worlds fourth tallest telecommunications tower and to the skybridge of Petronas Towers. You had to pay to go up KL Tower but surprisingly it was free to go up Petronas. All we had to do was watch this short propaganda video first about how brilliant Petronas, our local friendly community oil corporation was. They are a massive fortune 500 hundred multinational company actually. We also went to a theme park INSIDE Asia's largest shopping mall yesterday. It was very weird hurtling around a shopping mall in a rollercoaster. Malaysia and Singapore both love their shopping malls. They are everywhere. You can't escape them. Seriously…I've tried. The subway stations are inside them so you have to walk through them to get anywhere!!!

            I'm about to head off to Batu Caves soon which are a system of underground caves just outside KL, containing a Hindu shrine to which thousands of Hindus go on pilgrimage every year by walking the whole thirteen kilometers out from the city with all kinds of nasty pins and needles and things stuck in them. So that should be cool. Before I go I think I'll leave you with a cool quote from Akshay, my Singapore host. He says that "The point of a journey is not to reach your destination, but to separate your past and future selves with some rich experiences." I think that's some very poignant advice which I hope to take heed of on the rest of my journey. Here's to some rich experiences!

I'm starting to get into the travel sleep pattern now. You sleep for about five hours a night and then rush out the door again in the morning eager for more sightseeing and picture taking. You make up for lack of sleep in five minute bursts of unconsciousness on public transport throughout the day. Then you limp home wearily late at night to repeat the whole experience again every day for four months. Well...we'll see how long I can keep up this pace. In two days I've covered almost all the best sights, districts and attractions Singapore has to offer. And so far I've stuck to a 50euro a day budget. That may sound like a big budget for a backpacker but you've got to spend a little to have fun while you're on a holiday.

We got home from that club (which was actually an old colonial electricity generation station that was converted into a nightclub) really late last night - about 3AM - and after I finished writing the last entry, I didn't hit the hay as predicted but instead stayed up jamming with one of the Indian guys here on guitar and keyboard. He's into film-making and he had written this traditional Indian song (like Irish sean nos only more minory) for it that he wanted to try out with guitar so that was quite a weird experience. Didn't think I'd ever be playing a Hindi/Tamil (don't know what it was) song on guitar!

Carolina on my Mind came on my MP3 player last night and becuase that was my theme song for last summer it reminded me of everything that happened last summer so I got a little bit bummed out and I kind of missed everyone from Myrtle Beach a teency bit (although I didn't miss the place itself at all.) It is sad to think that I'm not going to make any great friends like that this summer because I'll be constantly on the move and won't have time to bond with all the randomers I will no doubtedly bump into. Ah well...such is the life I chose.

Speaking of complete randomers...I was having breakfast in that same hawker center this morning. There were a lot of bird cages around today and the place was packed so I was joined by two young Chinese Singaporean gentlemen. We got to talking, as people seem to do, and our conversation was very engaging. They explained to me that the reason people brought their birds to this public place and hung them up while they socialised was that exposure to other birds teaches them how to sing! They're trying to get them to sing, hoping they'll pick up some pointers from the other birds. Wild birds fly around and seem to taunt the caged birds with their freedom. In a cruel and unusual way that is completely unintentional, I suppose this blog is kind of like that too. We also discussed other interesting matters such as comparing economies, minimum wages and birth rates, explaining Singaporean defence policy and they gave me lots of great tips for my trip to Malaysia tomorrow such as the finer points of haggling with cowboy taxi drivers and how much money to bribe corrupt Malaysian police with. Apparently the standard of living (as well as the cost of living) is a bit lower in Malaysia. Unlike in Singapore, taxi drivers and cops in Malaysia don't earn enough to raise a family so they do what they gotta do. Anyway - there is further evidence of how nice Singapore people are.

I went to mass in a massive Catholic church this morning (the air conditioning came from heaven itself!) and when it came time to "offer each other the sign of peace", instead of shaking hands, everybody put their hands together and bowed at each other and all the little kids hugged and kissed everybody. I felt like a bit of an eejit bowing to people at mass (although strangely enough it feels very normal when I'm doing Tae Kwon-Do) but sure when in Rome...

After that I went to see a Buddhist monastery. It was so big and so colourful and the incense smelled so good that I can't even begin to describe it but the many photos I took can. They had a blood drive on there and they asked me to donate and I obliged but then they found out they couldn't accept blood from tourists so that was a bit anticlimatic. Then I went to this underground bunker that the British army used to use during World War II when the Japanese kicked their asses and took over Singapore. It was the first time in history that the British army ever surrendered. Go Japan! (Just kidding...the Japanese did a lot of messed up stuff back then...bad Japanese...shouldn't joke about that.) So that's another day here in the Lion City. Tomorrow morning, I'm off to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Get excited Eoin!!!

Well I’m finally here in Singapore after a 12 hour flight! 12 hours sounds terrible but it was actually the best flight ever. Slept through most of it - Qantas are the best airline ever! There were so many movies to watch I could have spent several weeks on that plane! There were even some basic video games to play with a little SNES-like controller and everything! It was six o clock local time when I arrived but it felt like the morning so I hit the town straight away.

Singapore makes a great first impression. As soon as I got on the subway some random old geezer started talking to me about how he always wanted to see the lakes of Killarney and then blathered on about the economy while I pretended to understand. The first thing you have to realize about this place is that’s it’ s very hot. It’s almost on the equator after all. The second thing you have to realize is that it’s very humid. Shortly after you realise these two things, you find it is too late and you are already drenched in sweat. Yeah...nice. Seriously, Myrtle Beach ain't got nothing on this place. This is jungle man! There are palm trees and stuff all over the place with all kinds of strange birds, lizards and spectacularly beautiful butterflies milling around. I am astounded by the colour and vibrancy of this city. It has that big city feel with all its skyscrapers and busy restaurants but retains a laid back attitude. At night, people sit on the river quays, dangling their feet above the water and relaxing. It is everything I imagined and more. Neon and red lanterns are everywhere but they never look gaudy. Furthermore, the people seem exceptionally polite, amicable and helpful. I don't know how much of that is down to the fact that I have arrived during official Kindness Week but the fact that such a thing exists is of course in itself a good sign. On first impressions at least, Singapore seems like a more liveable place than New York...if you can take the heat. I'm slowly adjusting.

As soon as I arrived I got a subway to the quays and walked around. I got a riverboat tour and saw all the major landmarks from the water - by far the best way to see them. The glittering skyscrapers looked absolutely alien against the backdrop of a lightning-filled sky. Incidentally, There's a bridge here called Coleman bridge which is named after its architect who was an Irishman! I've been enjoying the complete lack of Irish people around here. I only met one couple - one of them had red hair and they both said hello and nodded knowingly when they saw my Cork jersey as I strolled through Little India. It's nice to have that little bit of a connection from home every now and again but only in small doses - otherwise what's the point in leaving. Anyway after my boat tour, I got a subway and then a bus up to the northern jungley part of the island in order to take a nightime safari. This was so surreal - we were driven very quietly around jungle paths and saw tons of animals that were kept there up close in a nocturnal habitat. There were rhinos, elephants, lions, tigers and many more. The jungle was partially lit by soft lighting like the kind a full moon would provide. I can't describe how strange it is to see a herd of deer bathed in this eerie tawny light, drinking from a pond so close you could almost touch them, or to be glared at by a passing tiger to a soundtrack of tropical birds, frogs and insects. By the time the safari was over, I had missed the last bus. Unlike NY, Singapore does sleep so I had to get a taxi to the place where I was crashing. This was an apartment full of Indian guys on the fourteenth floor of a nice apartment complex with a breathtaking view of the city and a really useful swimming pool. When I arrived they were all sitting out on the balcony drinking so I joined them. We spoke of many things, mainly Irish and Singaporean culture. There are four official languages here: English, Chinese, Malay and Tamil. Imagine the official translation burden! Luckily most peoploe speak English (in the weirdest accent I ever heard in my life) and one other language. The racial makeup of the country is roughly 75% Chinese, 15% Malay, 8% Indian and 2% white. Apparently, the Chinese run the country but they go to great lengths to appear as if they don't, according to Akshay (the Indian guy I'm staying with). Political correctness is the order of the day it would seem. Nevertheless, white people seem to be treated more favourably. They're more popular with the ladies and today I went up to a very posh bar on the 71st floor of a skyscraper. It had an unrealistic dress code and was over 23s for lads (only over 18s for girls - that makes my blood boil!). I chanced my arm anyway despite being 21 and wearing shorts. I had no hassle at all apart from having to pay the equivalent of 4euro for a small glass of Sprite (a beer would have set me back 9euro - in a country where a beer is supposed to be about 2euro 50.) I was told later that this was because I was white - we never get IDd. Apparently our mere presence enhances the ambience of every place we walk into so much that rules can be set aside for us! (My blood goes way past boiling point here!) Although Singapore is notorious for being extremely conservative, the Indian lads who've been to America say America is more conservative, and so far, I've seen little to dispute htis claim. However, there are lots of little things that are annoying about this place. It is way more of a nanny state than Ireland and they're obsessed with pointless little rules - it's like being back in school again. You can't do anything on the subway - you can't smoke, drink, eat, be drunk OR disorderly, assault people, urinate, chew gum, traffic drugs (unless you want the death penalty - seriously) or leave your bag behind after you. Whatever old biddy is running this country needs to chill out! In fact there were some girls laughing rather loudly on the subway and they were getting some dirty looks from one old biddy who seemed to think they had found an ingenious loophole in the law to be able to get away with such disgraceful behaviour. They're really paranoid about the whole subway thing since the London and Madrid bombings - way more paranoid than in New York. They actually have plasma screens all over the place with dramatisations of "shady characters" leaving unattended luggage on the subway and a vigilant citizen immediately pulling the emergency brake and calling the proper authorities. There's another one where a kid leaves behind a teddy bear and it has a bomb in it. I mean come on...relax like. Smile - it might never happen! It's like Orwell's 1984 come to life. There are CCTV cameras everywhere in the subway stations - no I mean EVERYWHERE! Like there'll be about 20 of them in your direct line of vision. It is an undeniably efficient transport system though.

One thing that's really nice about this place is being taller than most women and of comparable height to most men. These are my people! What's annoying is walking around in my Cork jersey and have randomers say "go Arsenal!", mistaking my GAA jersey for an English soccer jersey because of the O2 sponsor on the front. English soccer is very popular here for some reason - go figure. I guess it makes as much sense as its popularity in Ireland.

An interesting dimension to society here is the fact that 2years of conscription is mandatory for every male once they finish school. They're such a tiny country (4 million people but unlike Ireland they're all crammed into one city) if they ever got attacked they wouldn't stand a chance but they'd take a lot of people down with them. They only got independence from Malaysia in 1967 by a treaty agreement. The terms of this agreement included mandatory sale of water, electricity and pretty much everything else a country needs to survive from Malaysia to Singapore for a hundred years. They're kinda thinking after the hundred years is up, Malaysia might stop selling them water and they could be taken over easily so hence the conscription. I discussed all this with the Indian lads over breakfast at the local hawker eatery. This is where old men hang out all day drinking extremely sweet tea and playing mahjong (kinda like draughts/checkers only Chinese). This particular place had a very interesting rack facility overhead where all the old men could bring their caged birds and hang them for the day so that the air would be filled with the sound of canary song and crotchety old men arguing. I went to another hawker center for dinner which cost me the equivalent of 1euro fifty. It happened to be absolutely delicious (if somewhat difficult to eat with chopsticks) and I was stuffed after it. The birds here flew around and landed on tables as soon as they were vacated to try and eat some scraps before the table was cleared. I had to defend my meal on several occasions from aerial bombers.

I visited the famous Raffles hotel - the place was full of white people although the rest of the city seemed devoid of them. The air conditioning was SOOOO good that I reckon they just couldn't leave. I also climbed Mount Faber (arriving at the top quite dehydrated) and visited Little India. Little India was like stepping back in time. It's hard to convey exactly how weird it was. I took some photos which help but they don't really convey the whole otherness of it all. It was so colourful my eyes nearly exploded but much more notably, it was an olfactory adventure. There is nothing more refreshing than smelling a new smell for the first time. I must have smelled about a hundred new smells and almost all of them very pleasant ones. Little India is untouched by modernisation and retains the old marketplace habits of haggling and the like. It also contains several strange temples, Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist. The Muslim one was very quiet. I had to take off my shoes and put on a dress before they'd let me go in. The Hindu one was chaos. There were horns being blasted and drums being banged and people prostrating themselves on the ground and hopping up and down holding their heads in front of various artistic shrines. I left feeling totally confused and very dazed.

After developing several blisters, I finally got back to the apartment and went for a well earned dip in the pool before going out clubbing. The clubbing scene here is very similar to Ireland except there's a lot more use of live bands. It was inexplicably hilarious to see a bunch of Chinese hip hop dancers and rappers break it down like they were straight outta Compton. I am utterly exhausted now - it's early in the morning here so it's time to hit the hay because I have another busy day tomorrow with an early start. Then I'm off to Malaysia on Monday morning. Good night...

And so I left Vermont behind. On the way back a sheepdog chased the train in a field adjacent to the track, barking madly as the whistle blew jeeringly as if to taunt it. This was the only notable occurence during the ten hour journey. When I got back to the big apple, I had to stand on the corner of 42nd and Broadway for a while in order to run into a Puerto Rican. (If that obscure reference is lost on you, browse through the comments on the photos from last year's New York photo album.) The Puerto Rican in question was Ivan – the guy I stayed with last week. I crashed at his place in the Bronx again. The next day I had some time to kill so I went for a lengthy stroll through the New York Botanical Gardens. I never realised how many shades of pink there are! It rambled serenely through the cherry blossoms and communed peaceably with the chipmunks and squirrels…as one does. When I got out of the gardens, there was some poor shmuck whose old Volvo sedan had broken down in the middle of a busy Bronx intersection. He was roaring abuse at the woman who was steering as he made feeble attempts to push the car off the road. It wasn't budging. People passed by and looked at him curiously while he was losing the plot. I ran across the intersection and helped him push it. We managed to get it off the intersection and down the street to the top of a hill. I began to notice how incredibly hot it was that day and I was carrying all my belongings on my back while I pushed. Luckily I was right beside a McDonalds where I got a large (American large now like!) drink. I still had some time to kill until I had to catch the subway to JFK so I went to the Bronx Zoo. Big mistake. The place was packed full of school tours. Every bloody school in the city must have decided to go on a school tour to the zoo that day. The zoo! Could they be more unimaginative! Anyway, the place was completely overcrowded and literally painfully noisy. All the children felt it was necessary to scream "Look! A monkey!" to anyone in their vicinity every time they saw a monkey rather than politely and quietly point it out and study the Latin name on the enclosure as I would have done when I was their age. They also felt it was necessary to scream at the animals if they lay still and refused to perform for them. I really empathized with the poor polar bear who was sprawled out under a rock completely motionless. Its expression seemed to say "I'm a polar bear. What the hell am I doing lying here in this 80+ heat? I should be swimming under an iceberg somewhere unpronounceable." I feel your pain brother bear.

So anyway I got on the plane – the plane didn't fly for about an hour. It began to taxi down the runway and then went dead. They lost their auxiliary power system. I didn't really care at that stage because I'd been waiting so long. I would have climbed out onto the wing and started flapping my arms if it would get us moving. But anyway long story short – I'm back in Cork and tomorrow morning it's off to Dublin to fly to Singapore. I need to get some sleep now. Good night/morning/afternoon/whatever the hell it is!

Well I've had a great time in quiet little old Vermont. Tomorrow I start the long journey back to the Big Apple and frankly, I'm not really looking forward to it! I've spent the last few days exploring the relaxed countryside of Vermont and to leave all that now for the hyperactivity and stressfulness of New York is not ideal. I will have to spend an evening and the best part of a day there before flying home for one night. Perhaps it won't be as bad as I think – I will try to seek out some places where I can kick back and do little. I'm sure they exist if I can find them. Nevertheless it's a far cry from the utter relaxedness I have experienced over the past few days. The most strenuous thing I have done for several days is climb a mountain – Mt Elmore – and as you will see from my photos, the views from the top are so tranquil that you might imagine you had floated up there. Glider planes actually do float up there. The mountain was being orbited by several silent glider planes. Since they don't have engines, the only sound they make is a faint whistling of the wind rushing over their long slender wings. Their silence and elegance is in keeping with the ambience of the mountaintop where one can temporarily forget the sweaty scrambling that was necessary to get there. No photo could ever properly do the view justice though. It's far too big to fit in a camera lens. On the top of Mt Elmore, one is reminded once again of the overwhelming bigness of America. It was a clear day so we could see all the way out to New Hampshire. There was nothing but tree-covered mountains as far as the eye could see and probably beyond that too. Some of the peaks were still white despite it being May.

            I was introduced to one of the neighbours here – a Scottish lad from Glasgow by the name of Steve. He had arrived in Vermont on a plane with 75cents in his pocket hoping to start a new life. What a chancer! I mean that's just stupid! But he survived anyway. He used his first 50cents to make two phone calls to look for work. He was hired as a dishwasher on his second call. As he put away the phone book he found a lost wallet with forty dollars in it and he took it and tried to get a taxi to the town he was to work in. The taxi driver agreed to take him there the following morning and let him stay the night in his house for the forty dollars. He started work the next day and his employers advanced him the price of a hostel bed every night until he got paid in full. Twenty years later he's married with children here and owns his own construction company! His story gives me courage for this summer. I've never been so badly off as to have to rely on 75cents. Even at the worst of times last year I still had a few hundred dollars to fall back on but if he could do that then surely I'll survive this summer.

            Finally I went to church with the Garrett family (with whom I am staying if you recall) this morning. It was another one of those strange church experiences but one of more pleasant ones. The whole alter was taken up by about a dozen musicians and singers featuring three guitars (two too many!) There was a fat little guy on lead guitar who was like a young Santa Claus and he was rocking out on the altar playing some seriously tasty solos. There is no way that would ever happen in Ireland.

            Anyway I am preparing myself psychologically for the onslaught of stress tomorrow when I get back to New York. I think perhaps I am dwelling too much on it and making it seem worse than it actually is. New York is actually quite a fun place to hang out for a few days so I will try to find fun things to do. Then after that, I must start to prepare myself for some culture shock as I face Singapore and Malaysia in monsoon season. I'll worry about that later…

What a trip! I thought I would never get to Vermont! It took ten hours! That's like going from Cork to Dublin and back again…and then back again!!! At least Amtrak are better than Iarannród Éireann in terms of comfort. Tons of legroom and wide reclining seats. Unfortunately, they also blow the whistle constantly for no apparent reason like an old-school train as if to remind passers-by that it is indeed a train. At first it's quite endearing. It quickly becomes annoying. It was worth it though for the beautiful views.

            First I had a view of Manhattan receding into the distance with grandeur. However, New York's suburbia sprawls gracelessly across the country, randomly eating up green spaces and saving others for later. The sprawl sporadically continues into Connecticut. It seems to go on and on and no country space is untouched by civilization. Eventually organized settlement admits defeat and surrenders to the trees, in some places agreeing on an uneasy truce. Where there are small remote towns, they all seem to have at least one abandoned warehouse and a car graveyard. These towns were eyesores in an otherwise acceptable landscape. As we pull into Springfield, Massachusetts a bum stands in a park by the river and waves as the train passes. It doesn't look much like the Springfield in the Simpsons. However, as we moved into northern Massachusetts and Vermont there was a marked change in scenery. It was there that America really began to reveal its beauty. Trees, trees and trees. The sky seems to go on forever. The highways disappeared and we were all alone in a never-ending forest with the branches so close they were almost touching the train. The little towns became more quaint and picturesque and less rundown. There were wooden houses built in the style of American red barns. Sometimes the tracks would run alongside a massive river to which little towns clung like gold-mining outposts. A farmer waved at us as we went by. Why? Why do people wave at trains? Maybe they're trying to connect their stationary life briefly with fast-moving stranger or with the romanticism of trains. Whatever the reason, I find it strangely comforting to have someone acknowledge a fleeting group of strangers to which I temporarily belong. Eventhough I'm anonymous while being waved at, I still feel a human connection. Maybe it's something that's specifically rural. If a stranger drove down an Irish country road, he'd be saluted by every old man he passed and there's something nice about that. None of the clumps of houses have fences between the individual plots. I suppose they must all know where the boundary lines are. Nevertheless, good fences do make good neighbours! A lot of small towns seemed to be built right beside the railroad as if they found the whistle reassuring. It was as if they relied on passing trains to make them feel connected to the outside world.

            We passed through Amherst, hometown of celebrated poet, Emily Dickinson. It was suitably quaint – very appropriate for writing nature poems. The voice of my Leaving Cert English teacher, Ms Kearney, echoed through my mind as she recited poetry in a sardonic hollow tone…"Inebriate of air am I and debauchee of dew, Reeling through endless summer days from inns of molten blue…"

            After what seemed like an eternity, we finally pulled into Essex Junction, Vermont, half an hour behind schedule. I was very relieved and happy to see Katy and her Dad there waiting to pick me up. Katy is the girl I'm staying with while I'm here. You may remember her from last year's blog. There's probably photos of her up in the Myrtle Beach album. They live in a lovely quiet neighbourhood surrounded by trees and mountains and it's a very homey place indeed. I saw a chipmunk today. They're tiny – way smaller than squirrels, and they move faster than anything I've ever seen before. They dart around so fast you almost can't see them with the naked eye. They don't sing in high pitched voices though contrary to popular belief. We went over to Katy's friend's house and she had a pet chinchilla which is a weird kind of giant squirrel-rat thingy with deliciously soft fur and massive twitchery whiskers. She also had rats which ran all over me. They tickled.

            We went hiking today. It was very strange because it was fairly hot – I'd say mid twenties – and yet there was still a bit of snow on the ground up in the mountains where we went for a short climb. The views up there were spectacular. There were also abandoned ski resorts with idle ski lifts and everything which was very weird to see especially since it was my first time ever seeing a ski resort. After checking out some nice views, we went to the Ben & Jerry's factory (oh yeah get jealous, get real jealous!) We got a really cheesy guided tour of the factory and some free samples. I bought a pint of Willie Nelson's Country Peach Cobbler flavour ice cream which was simply divine. They even have a flavour graveyard where there are hundreds of headstones commemorating flavours that were discontinued. The least popular flavour ever was Sugar Plum flavour which was discontinued after three weeks when only two pints were sold and one was returned for being so nasty! Given that buying some cheap Ben & Jerry's was on my America to-do list this year, I totally struck the jackpot this time! Overall, I'm happy to report that I'm glad to be in this quiet mountain town!

America rejoices this week at the long-awaited return of me. The red carpet was rolled out and dozens of young children threw flower petals at my feet as I got off the plane. Well...maybe not but it is cool to be back in New York all the same. It's so easy to forget how different it is. This is not real life here. New York is like some kind of giant amusement park dreamt up by Tim Burton only grittier. I got a little excited at seeing all the Americanisms again in full 3D like TV can never show it. Before I ever left Ireland there were US soldiers strutting around Shannon Airport in full desert camouflage which ironically made them stand out quite a bit. Then in JFK airport I had the same thing only this time with big massive automatic weapons strapped onto the soldiers and the added air of authority that comes with this. Then there's all that other American stuff that you start to take for granted after a few days here but without which it isn't really America - wooden houses, graffitti, massive cars and ghetto clothes. And there's the whole New Yorker personality. For some reason they have to be very dramatic about everything. A simple yes/no question might be answered with a "Oh no you didn't! Get ahtta here ya shmuck!" Then there's the whole subway culture that the Luas in Dublin tries to emulate although it is a weak imitation. In any given carriage there are dozens of strangers from every imaginable walk of life all sitting or standing there with a pus on em staring into space and pretending there's nobody else there. Over the course of my two hours on the subway I shared a carriage with a rasta man with a big massive tea cosy on his head (see photos - taken secretly!) someone's granny who actually took out her wool and started knitting some ghastly green garment that appeared to be the beginnings of a dog's coat or something equally obsolete. There were businessmen with briefcases and then less conventional businessmen going from carriage to carriage selling pirated DVDs while wearing absurdly XXXXXXXL tshirts and the pants hanging down around their knees. You'd find all sorts of characters on the subway but of course you can't talk to any of them because this is part of the unspoken code of the subway and it is immediately evident even to the uninitiated. In have spent my brief time here so far mostly going up the Empire State Building...in an elevator like. It only takes a few seconds in the elevator but you have to queue for a bit. I would submit however, that it is well worth it. You see mail pipes on the way up where lads can thow letters into a letter box on the top floor and twould go straight to the mail sorting room without them having to go all the way to the post office themselves. They've thought of everything. The elevators are operated by remote control and don't have any buttons outsie them so that you can't really sneak up without paying. Once you get up there though...what a view!!! I've taken a few photos for ye but photos could never do it justice. They've made it very difficult to throw yourself off the top by putting big railings up reall high that arc downwards and inwards in big metal spikes. If you were intent on killing yourself in a spectacular manner though you could always just jump really high and impale your head on one of the spikes so it isn't really much a suicide deterrent is it.

I'm writing this by the way, from the apartment where I'm crashing tonight which is up in the Bronx. I'm staying with a Puerto Rican guy by the name of Ivan and he's dead on - he's making me chicken for dinner and all! The population up here is overwhelmingly black and hispanic - I was the only white guy on the subway up here. There are a few white people walking around up here though. It's cool to have a massive city like this where you can have a whole district without hardly any white people. It makes a change from Ireland anyway!!! Maybe we might see  few Polish suburbs springing up around regional towns in Ireland in the next few years though. The Bronx is to New York as Ballincollig is to Cork. Basically people live here and work in Manhattan from what I can make out. There are basketball courts all over the place with randomers shooting hoops so it's quite unlike Ballincollig in that respect. I'm glad I got to see another side of New York this time round and from what I've seen so far, it isn't as bad as most films seem to make out. It's less expensive and not as fancy as Manhattan - there's not doubt about that - but I haven't seen anything dodgy going on either. Tomorrow morning I'll catch a nine hour train to Essex Junction, Vermont which I imagine is highly unlikely to have anything dodgy going on. I've heard a lot of good things about Vermont - it's meant to be lovely altogether is you get the weather for it, which we seem to be so far. It's been about five degrees hotter here than in Ireland so it's comfortable enough. Also Vermont is supposed to be the most liberal state in the US with the only Socialist congressman in the country. Apparenly it's quite an achievement to have a socialist voice in this country. In any case I doubt politics will occupy my mind in the mountains of Vermont. But tomorrow is another day. So until then goodbye!

So as some of you will be aware I am now getting ready to head off on another totally excellent adventure and this time it's bigger, longer and with more explosions that last year. Of such epic proportions is this forthcoming trip that I have come to refer to it as the Odyssey. I leave on Monday and my ramblings will take me through New York (yeah watch out New York I'm coming back – this time to the Bronx), Vermont, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia (east coast & Victoria), Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, China and Hong Kong. I will return home on September 17th. Naturally I plan to keep you as informed as possible as I am travelling and I hope this will mean a significant increase in the frequency of my entries and lots of beautiful exotic photos. This of course will depend on a number of factors such as when internet is available, whether I manage to take the time out of my hectic itinerary to write and whether I can access my blog and email from some of these countries (three of these countries are communist and probably have a lot of blocked internet content so don't get freaked out if you don't hear from me while I'm in these countries.) One thing's sure though, it will be a totally excellent adventure and I am committed to sharing as much of it as I can with my loyal/indifferent/lost readers.

            I will once again be travelling on my own and this time I will definitely have no more than one rucksack. I am already prepared to be extremely smelly. I am also prepared for all climates. It will be winter in Melbourne, monsoon in South East Asia, moderate in China and tropical in Cairns. I expect to face temperatures and humidity that will make South Carolina look like the Antarctic and rainfall that will make Ireland look like the Sahara. It looks like the weather will be the least of my troubles though. I will be travelling through Muslim countries that have experienced terrorist attacks, and facing oppressive Communist regimes, some of the most poisonous snakes and spiders in the world, crocs, sharks, landmines, high crime rates, malaria, diarrhoea, poor people, scam artists and corrupt customs officials. I also hope to pluck up the courage to do a parachute jump. Oh and did I mention I was going to the Bronx? Looks like my chances of coming back alive are pretty slim. Well at least I won't have to worry about dying of boredom! Why do I do it? Just for you! So I can bring you back hilarious anecdotes for your amusement, so all I can say is you better appreciate it.

            I am plagued by a niggling voice that suggests that I am not ready for a quest of such magnitude or that I am forgetting something. I am currently experiencing a peculiar combination of trepidation and excitement at the prospect of going away to such exotic places for so long but will brush the former off with a healthy measure of bravado and optimism. I have also decided that my personal anthem for this summer (or at least for now) will be Tom Waits' "Shiver Me Timbers". It encapsulates the romantic image of adventure that I tend to idealise:

Shiver Me Timbers     

-----------------

I'm leaving my family

leaving all my friends

my body's at home

but my hearts in the wind

where the clouds are like headlines

on a new frontpage sky

my tears are salt water

and the moons full and high

And I know Martin Eden's

gonna be proud of me

many before me

have been called by the sea

To be up in the crow's nest

singing my say

Shiver me Timbers

as I'm sailing away

Now the fog's lifting

and the sand's shifting

I'm drifting on out

Old captain Ahab

he ain't got nothing on me

So swallow me , follow me

I'm travelling alone

Blue waters my daughter

I'm gonna skip like a stone

so please call my misses

tell her not to cry

'cause my goodbye is written

by the moon in the sky

Nobody knows me

I can't fathom my stayin'

shiver me timbers

as I'm sailing away

I'm leaving my family

leaving all my friends

my body's at home

but my hearts in the wind

where the clouds are like headlines

on a new frontpage sky

shiver me timbers

as I'm saying goodbye........

It is worth explaining the reference in the second verse to Martin Eden. Martin Eden was a fictional character from an early twentieth century novel by American writer, Jack London. He was a working class sailor who fell in love with a lady of high society and presumably much hilarity and heartbreak ensued. Apparently Martin Eden was based almost entirely on his own creator who, disillusioned with his own literary fame, decided to set off to sail around the world on his own in a small boat he designed himself. Presumably this was the old school equivalent of backpacking. What a legend though. Let's ignore for the moment the inconvenient and harshly realistic fact that I will of course be flying to my destination rather than setting sail on a tall ship. I will however, be sailing down much of the Mekong River as it is the most efficient method of transport in certain remote parts of Laos and Cambodia where the infrastructure is relatively underdeveloped.

It would be cool to design the plane in which I will travel myself but I imagine the other passengers would object. I would put twenty inch plasma screens and game consoles all over the place and a jacuzzi and a mini-bar and beds instead of seats. I might draw up some proposals and send them on to Michael O Leary [FEN: CEO of budget no-frills Irish airline which might actually go along with my idea of removing seating but would definitely stop short of replacing them with anything.] Given that my journey begins in America, I am very much looking forward to Krispy Kremes, Hershey's Kisses and affordable Ben & Jerry's. No matter where I travel, America will always be firmly ingrained in my taste buds. By the time I get there, our nation's beloved President should just have returned having convinced America that Irish immigrants are actually a good thing. No doubt my subsequent arrival should dispel any doubts that may have lurked in the darkest recesses of the collective American psyche in this regard. The timing of my departure is unfortunate in that I will leave two weeks before the general election meaning that I will not only be unable to vote in our future leaders but will also miss all the hype and excitement that comes with the transition of power and the selection of a new cabinet. Having spent a few months rambling through the corridors of power during my internship there, it is a source of bitter disappointment to me that I will be unable to determine who will stumble through those same corridors over the next four years and that I will be quite removed from all the political action. You can't have everything I suppose.

            You may be interested to know that for your convenience, I have plotted my course on a map which you can find in the photos section (April Album), should you happen to be in the CIA and wish to track my movements. So wish me luck as I take a deep breath and strap on my backpack. Who knows what I'll see out there in this crazy world!