Forbes Magazine Most Dangerous Destinations 2006 (in alphabetical order) and the previous two years. It's interesting to see which countries have consistently been on Forbes' list over the last three years: Afghanistan, the DRC, Haiti, Iraq, Liberia, Somalia and Zimbabwe – four out of seven countries that are in Africa.

Burundi and Pakistan made it on to the list for two years in 2004 and 2006, and the Sudan and the Ivory Coast made it on to the list for two years in 2005 and 2006. Newcomers to the 2006 list include Georgia, Chechnya and PNG, whilst Yemen, Krygystan and Togo all made brief one year appearances but do not appear in 2006.

Where would be on your list? The Beetle's list would include countries like Iraq and Afghanistan which she hasn't been to, but would seem sensible to avoid, given the amount of conflict taking place there – the risk of being captured and beheaded or the embarrassment (and cost not to mention inconvenience) of having to be rescued by the SAS; please don't go! Only Port Moresby in Papua New Guinea which she has recently visited three times would get her veto – this is not a nice or safe place but the rest of PNG is a complete delight.

On further thought, it seems a little unfair to say that an entire country is worthy of being on the worlds most dangerous list – with the possible exception of Iraq and Afghanistan, where the Beetle personally believes that tourists should not go – until it is safe and there really is peace. The Beetle used to live and work in Karachi in Pakistan and has travelled the country extensively, and would rate the majority of Pakistan as being a warm and very beautiful and welcoming place – Karachi is hard going and the North West Frontier does feels lawless. Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar similarly felt unsafe, as did Nairobi to the Beetle.

Where would be on your list? Write in and let the Beetle know.

• Forbes Most Dangerous Destinations 2004
• Afghanistan Burundi
• Democratic Republic of the Congo
• Haiti
• Iraq
• Liberia
• Pakistan
• Somalia
• Zimbabwe
• Yemen

• Forbes Most Dangerous Destinations 2005
• Afghanistan
• Cote d'Ivoire
• Democratic Republic of the Congo
• Haiti
• Iraq
• Liberia
• Somalia
• Sudan
• Zimbabwe
• Kyrgyzstan
• Togo

• Top 5 Cruise Destinations: 2006 Forbes Most Dangerous Destinations 2006
• Afghanistan
• Burundi
• Cote d'Ivoire
• Democratic Republic of the Congo
• Georgia
• Haiti
• Iraq
• Liberia
• Pakistan
• Papua New Guinea
• Russia (Chechnya)
• Somalia
• Sudan
• Zimbabwe

Travellers and holidaymakers risk contracting a potentially life-threatening disease in Europe this year. The 'Tick Alert' campaign is warning UK travellers about Tick Borne Encephalitis (TBE), a viral disease contracted via the bite of an infected tick. It can lead to meningitis and in serious cases result in paralysis and death, with about one in 30 cases proving fatal.

The warning identifies 16 central and eastern European countries where the TBE infected tick population is officially endemic and therefore poses a high risk to visitors who have not been immunised or taken bite prevention precautions.

This includes many of the new popular European holiday destinations such as Croatia, the Czech Republic, Slovenia and Slovakia, where there is a growing travel market.

TBE-infected ticks are found typically in rural and forest areas from late spring and throughout summer. At-risk groups include all visitors to rural areas of endemic countries, particularly those participating in outdoor activities such as trekking, hiking, climbing, cycling and camping.

A number of measures can be taken to reduce the risk of infection: these include using an insect repellent, wearing trousers and long-sleeved clothing to cover all areas of exposed skin, regularly inspecting for tick bites and carefully removing any found. The disease can also be transmitted by the ingestion of unpasteurised milk which should be avoided.

However, the Foreign Office advises that visitors to TBE endemic regions seek advice from their local surgery or clinic – well before travelling.

Further information on the endemic regions of Europe and latest advice for travellers is available at www.masta.org/tickalert

The World’s Worst Dictators

Source: http://www.infoplease.com/toptens/worstdictators.html

Prepared by David Wallechinsky for Parade after consultation with Human Rights Watch, Freedom House, Amnesty International, and Reporters without Borders.

Mac has not been very well, but is still e-mailing strong. In this edition of the Globetrotter e-newsletter, Mac talks about a Japanese tea ceremony he attended whilst based in Japan shortly after WW2 and also the beginning of his five and a half year stint as a soldier in Japan in the 1950s.

Nikko Kanko Hotel Lake Chuzenji, Nikko National Park, Japan Japanese Tea Ceremony: you sit on the floor with legs tucked straight back under you with you sitting on top of them. This is pure torture after ten minutes. Little nephew Jimmy McCarty is the only American I have seen that can do this with ease.

The hostess very slowly washed a tea cup (bowl of elaborate design) pouring water into it from a bamboo dipper, then pouring water into a gold and silver utensil and fiddled around (slowly) wiping this and that slowly. It all means something. It means she is slow. The tea was made from green powder and was special ceremonial tea. Small cakes were passed around. The hostess who was wearing a beautiful spring kimono bowed to you and you bowed in return as she gives you the cake. In bowing I tried to get weight off my legs and tried to stretch them by kicking them straight back. Very sneaky! I bowed three times but it still was not enough relief. I bowed more often and more times during entire ceremony than anyone in attendance. I even bowed when no one was there bowing and presenting something to me.

The Japanese must have thought I was either very polite or else not all there. The others weren't fooled one bit. An unwed middle aged lady from one of the Scandinavian Embassies suggested we share a cup of tea as it looked like there was going to be extra guests and not enough cups.

She whispered that since this was Japan where men come first. I drink first. I drank from one side of cup and then handed it to her and she drank from the other side. I then whispered to her and informed her that we had just gotten married (someone told me that a Japanese man and woman alternately drinking from the same cup are married on completion of alternating.)

She looked perplexed like she was in agony and then looked around to see if any Japanese had noticed. Ha! They had and were smiling. She then remembered it was sake (rice wine) and not tea you shared and whispered: “Sake, sake.” I answered: “Thank you, thank you.” She then saw the humour in the situation and giggled for the remainder of the tea ceremony. We were not invited back.

The flower arrangement in the tokonoma was a simple bud and leaves. It was explained that it is best to sometimes to not have things too beautiful. We have the same policy in our barracks.

It would be difficult to imagine American women meeting once a week to go thorough such a long drawn out ceremony, particularly in view of the fact that it is done in silence except for murmured dozos (please) and arrigato (thank yous.) I was saying Iowa Gozimas (good morning to Japanese I met) until I was told it is Ohio Gozaimas you should say.

Here are some more extracts from my diary of my time in Japan in November 1955.

Aboard the USS Mitchell, Pacific Ocean (I think the USS Mitchell was a ship from Presidential Lines turned into a troop ship.) At 1335 hrs we sighted Japanese fishing boats. It was the first sign of life, outside of our own ship we had seen for eleven days since leaving Seattle. The little fishing boat was approximately three hundred miles from Japan, as we were.

Sunday Tokyo Japan 19 Nov 55: at 0300 saw a light in distance periodically coming from a lighthouse. We had gotten up to go on deck as I wanted to see go into Yokohama harbour, as did others that could not sleep. At 0600 we saw land. The ship's public address system announced that we were entering Tokyo Bay. Yokohama has a Breakwater whose entrance can be closed at night. It has a gate of steel spikes that go down into the water and during the war the Allies were never able to get into the inner Tokyo Bay because of this. The ship's speaker announces: “The ship is moored. Raise the flag”. With ourselves bagged and barracks bags tagged with line number and wearing fatigues we waited to get off the ship. I felt like a refugee with that tag with my name on it. The guy in front of me turned out to be from Seward Nebraska, Edward R Wittrock. After we expressed amazement of living only thirty miles from each other in Nebraska we had nothing to talk about as we didn't know the same people as we both already had been in the service a long time.

In a typical service snafu after they insisted we wear fatigues off the ship, we no sooner got off than we were ordered to go into a warehouse and change into Class A uniform which had been packed and stored in barracks bags and were winkled after being squashed into those barracks bags for about two weeks. They wanted us to look nice for the Japanese on the street. One guy left his briefcase in the warehouse and a Japanese man came running out teeth all smiling to return it to the owner. This was our first experience with the honesty of the Japanese people. Quite a contrast to the Philippines. My buddy nicknamed the Colonel said 67 instead of his last name, first name and middle initial coming off the ship. No one noticed.

Once we were docked the confusion began with me. I was the only one going to Headquarters FEAF, Tokyo, an Airman third class. In those days they ironically would have sponsors assigned to officers and maybe even NCOs but none to airmen third class. I hitched a ride in an Army truck into Tokyo with another airman third class who was driving there. We passed a vehicle with no-one sitting in driver's seat. I then realised he was sitting right hand seat of car. I noticed washing hanging on bamboo poles with sticks through garments sleeves. This required no clothes pens and the wind couldn't blow them down. I was all eyes on the eighteen mile ride from Yokohama to Tokyo. I was told that a bamboo grove is the safest place to be in a typhoon or earthquake but could not find such a grove in Tokyo. I found our mess hall had a bamboo screen, a bamboo counter and there is bamboo furniture in our day room. Much bamboo is used over here, it has many, many uses. I was to spend five and one half years in Japan and later met a woman who wrote a book called The Wise Bamboo about funny things that happened during occupation duty. I would like to reread it.

At first thought, I thought there was a national epidemic over here. I saw so many people wearing what looked like surgical masks over their face. They wear them when they have a cold so as to not spread germs or to avoid catching a cold from others. They look like they are ready to go into surgery or are ready to hold up a bank. They look particularly funny if driving a car. I had to ask strangers where Hq FEAF was as I had no idea except that it was in Tokyo. When I found the Hqs, the first person I met was an American WAC hollering into a phone Mushi, Mushi, Mushi Mushi. She saw my confusion and explained that Mushi Mush was Hello hello. She saw my confusion and tried to help me out in my first few days in Japan. It was the beginning of the most enjoyable five and one half years of my life.

If you would like to get in touch with Mac, he is happy to correspond by e-mail when he is well. His e-mail address is: macsan400@yahoo.com

A passenger jet flying for Ryanair mistakenly landed at Ballykelly Army airstrip instead of at its intended destination of City of Derry Airport, six miles away. The Liverpool-to-Londonderry flight, operated by Eirjet on behalf of the Irish LCC, landed at the wrong airport due to an “error by the Eirjet pilot who mistakenly believed he was on a visual approach to City of Derry airport,” according to a Ryanair statement. Army officers and passengers aboard the Eirjet A320 were reportedly dumbfounded by the mistake. “The pilot apologised and said, 'We may have arrived at the wrong airport,'” said one passenger. “Everyone started laughing and thought it was a joke, then I saw for myself when I looked out and saw Army officers everywhere.”

“It was just unbelievable, I think the Army officers were shocked themselves (as) they were taking photographs,” the passenger added. “It was surreal.”

This is Wickipedia's entry for our friends Ryanair: Ryanair is an airline based in Ireland. It is Europe's largest low-cost carrier, operating 270 low-fare routes to 21 European countries. Over the years it has evolved into the world's most profitable airline , running at remarkable margins by relentlessly driving down costs. Ryanair has been characterised by rapid and continuing expansion, enabled by the deregulation of the air industry in Europe in 1997. Ryanair is one of Europe's most controversial companies, praised and criticised in equal measure. Its supporters praise its commitment to exceptionally low fares, its radical management, its populism, and its willingness to challenge what Ryanair calls the 'establishment' within the airline industry (similar to its American counterpart, Southwest Airlines). Critics, meanwhile, have attacked its trade union policies, and have charged that it practices deceptive advertising.

Some recent statistics show Ryanair coming top of the table. However, see this for some less favourable comments.

Source: AEA member statistics Jan – Dec 2005 compared to Ryanair and Easyjet statistics Jan – Dec 2005.

Meeting news from around the world

Our first speaker was Gavin Fernandes, who showed us life and death at Varanassi. Daily life including everything from bathing, praying, meditating and funerals taking place on the ghats by the side of the river. We saw ash covered saddhus and Bollywood films being made. Gavin also showed us the Kumb Mela, (a grand Hindu Festival and Ceremony, taking place every four years,) where millions of pilgrims go for a dip to cleanse their sins in the Ganges. Gavin got to know some of the Saddhus who allowed him to take photos in return for some copies for themselves.

After the break our second speaker was Alistair Humphreys, who took four and a half years to cycle round the world, covering over 46,000 miles in the process. His route taking him via Europe, Middle East, Africa, by boat to Rio, from where he took a bus down to the tip of South America so that he would be able to say he had cycled the whole way up to Alaska. He took a ship to Siberia and cycled through temperatures of minus 40 in Russia, then down through Japan and along the great wall of China, then back though central Asia, disappointingly having to miss Iran because of visa problems. 46,000 miles over four and a half years condensed into 45 minutes for Globetrotters, well done Alistair.

By Padmassana

Forthcoming meetings:

• Saturday 4th March, Jane Robinson – “The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands” and Neville Shulman OBE –Climbing the Equator
• Saturday 1st April (no joke!), Jonathon Kaplan – “A surgical Sojourn in the Mountains of Iraqi Kurdistan” and Anne Mustoe — “The Amber Route”

Full Details can be found on the website London Meeting Page.

London meetings are held at The Church of Scotland, Crown Court, behind the Fortune Theatre in Covent Garden at 2.30pm the first Saturday of each month. There is no London meeting in August, but we will be back in September. For more information, you can contact the Globetrotters Info line on +44 (0) 20 8674 6229, or visit the website: www.globetrotters.co.uk

We used to have meetings in New York City and New Braunfels, Texas. Regrettably, after having done a superb job, neither organisers are able to give their time to Globetrotter meetings. If you are based in New York or New Braunfels and have the time to commit to pick up where our previous organisers left off, we'd love to hear from you – please see our FAQ or contact our the Branch Liaison Officer via our Website at Meeting FAQ. If you are based elsewhere and are interested in starting a branch of the Globetrotters, please feel free to contact us.

For information on Ontario meetings, please contact Svatka Hermanek: shermanek@schulich.yorku.ca or Bruce Weber: tel. 416-203-0911 or Paul Webb: tel. 416-694-8259.

Meetings and travel presentations are held on the 3rd Friday in January, March, May (4th Friday), September and November at the Old York Tower, 85 The Esplanade (SouthEast corner of The Esplanade & Church) – two blocks east of the Union station. Public parking garage is at the foot of Church Street right next to the Old York Tower at 8.00 p.m.

On Christmas Eve I flew from London to Beirut on BA and landed during a spectacular thunderstorm. I managed to get in for free after buying a visa at the airport bank for $18, the immigration man said it's free today, go, and get your money back, so we did! By total coincidence, the next morning the first person I saw at breakfast was Katerina, a fellow Globetrotter from London!

I was part of an organised tour of the Lebanon and there were 10 of us. We left Beirut on Xmas day and headed south via the Corniche to the port city of Sidon. On the way we passed near to the sports complex behind which there are massive Shatila and Shabra Palestinian refugee camps, where the massacres in the 1980's happened. In Sidon we visited the Caravanserai where there is a collection of photographs showing the hours leading up to and the assassination of president Hariri in February 2005; the devastation from the 350kg car bomb has to be seen to be believed.

Also in Sidon we saw the Crusader castle which is reached by a stone bridge across the sea. The castle is well preserved and there are lots of towers and ramparts to explore, though at lower levels of the castle we had to avoid the massive waves that were breaking over the castle. In Sidon we also visited, the market and the soap museum, which is quite interesting.

Our next stop was the drive up into the Chouf mountains to Deir el Qamar to our Auberge, a lovely place to stay run by an eccentric old French lady who had a roaring log fire, just as well as it was very cold. Our Christmas dinner was a meze: loads of meat and bread, etc, very nice, and no sheep's eye balls to be seen. (My mother had predicted a Christmas dinner of sheep's eye balls)!

We had planned to go walking in the Cedar forest, but the rain in Beirut had been 3ft of snow in the mountains so that was abandoned. The snowy trip over the mountains into the Bekaa valley was precarious and our driver had to be careful not to hit parked vehicles that you couldn't see as they were buried in snow. On the other side of the mountains we visited the Ummayad ruins at Anjar which borders Syria, but again it was raining, so we saw the main buildings and temples, but it was too cold too really take our time, so after a chicken shawarma and chips it was up into “Hezbollahville”, aka Baalbeck, famous for its fantastic ruins.

Our hotel was right opposite the ruins, and pretty spectacular they are too. We had a local guide to take us round, as Baalbeck is quite a big place, and also home to Hezbolah. There were yellow signs showing a fist with a Kalashnikov all over the place and local people try to sell you Hezbolah flags and t-shirts and there are people collecting for the cause. I had a wander around Baalbeck in the evening, a nice place and despite those that run it, it was not in the least threatening, bought some sweets off an ex-Australian Lebanese who called me “mate”!

We were supposed to go straight to the Qadisha valley from Baalbeck, but because of the holiday weekend we had not visited Beit Eddin, due to it being Christmas day on the Sunday and the day off for public building employees on the Monday. Beit Eddin is a fantastic palace, very much in the style of the Alhambra in Granada, lovely architecture, beautiful fountains and gardens. We had to make quite a detour to this, but it was well worth it, we then skirted back around Beirut and then up to Byblos on the coast.

Byblos or Jbail to give it its proper name has some nice Roman ruins and a castle. It was also where our guide Nasim lives so as there were only 10 of us we went round his house for tea and cakes with his sister and Father, which was nice. During that night the PFLP (Peoples Front for the Liberation of Palestine) lobbed a couple of Katusha rockets over the border into Israel, a while later 30 miles south of us the Israeli air force bombed a Palestinian camp in South Beirut, we heard “something” in the night but didn't find out what had happened until the next morning.

Went next to Tripoli, a lovely old city by the sea, fantastic castle to clamber over, ramparts giving great views with sheer drops off the side, in Europe there would be “Don't climb the ramparts” signs and a huge big fence to stop you, not in Lebanon, go where you like and we did.

Then went down into the market great fun eating hot bread straight from the bakers. We got into the big mosque too. I love the architecture of these places, the girls with us were given all covering pink robes, looked like a day out for the KKK or a bunch of druids at the Solstice. Then we drove into the mountains to Bcharre, home to the writer/painter Gibran. His stuff is not my kind of thing and there's no chance of it ever touring Saudi Arabia or Iran as nobody in his pictures has a stitch on and as for what they are getting up to…..After a quick look round we came out and built a snowman and had a snowball fight!

We spent the night in an Hermitage called St Elysee, whose back wall is actually the rock of the mountain behind. To get to the place we had to go down a steep mountain road that was a sheet of ice – which was exhilarating, but the next day we had to come out by the same way and ended up using snow chains and taking runs at bends to get round them. We were also supposed to do a walk here, but were forewarned about the 12 inches of mud and 2 ft of snow by another group that had tried the walk and had to give up. Instead we went to Byblos for lunch and then down to Jeita Grotto, a fantastic series of caves which were brilliant. After the caves we went to Jounie and got the cable car and funicular up to the top of the hill behind the town, which has a giant statue of the Virgin Mary, but we just made it for sunset.

We finished up in Beirut and first visited the famous Corniche that runs by the sea, the place to be seen in the 1970's but now a bit tatty. Then down to Martyrs square which is the start of the “Green Line” that divided east and west Beirut during the war. The buildings directly on the line have been rebuilt or restored, but you only have to go a street or so east or west to find the evidence of 15 years of war.

Beirut is on an extremely high state of alert. There are tanks and armed police and army all over the place – they are expecting something to happen. The bars and clubs in the city that last year were packed have been cancelling New Years eve parties as nobody is buying tickets. The city dwellers do not want to be in a place with a large crowd that would be a target for the next bomb. But having said that Beirut is a nice place, the people are extremely welcoming, there are lovely shops and cafes and I'm really glad to have visited.

8am and damn hot, 8am and bloody humid, 8am in the Brazilian rainforest. Tramping through the jungle and trying to keep up the fast pace of the Indian guides, the perspiration stung as it ran into my eyes. My camera pack seemed to weigh a ton and was biting into my shoulders. Then we burst upon it. It was only a small ravine, a twenty-foot drop to a rocky bottom, where, in the wet season the tiny stream would swell into a fast flowing angry river. The streamlet travelled between large sharp rocks and seemed to be willing me to fall.

The bridge across this dangerous gap was a dripping wet tree trunk about 16 inches in diameter and 35 foot long. I had camera gear as well as my overweight body to haul across to the other side, preferably without anything too disastrous happening either to my equipment or myself! I paused and thought, “It could all end in tears before our adventure has really begun.” Adam and I had finally reached the Amazon rain forest and were following the Yawanawa guides along what, to me, seemed a non-existent trail. We brushed aside all sorts of hanging vegetation that criss-crossed in front of us.

I jammed my 'Tilley' hat hard on my head, trying to avoid the sharp Boca (that looks like bamboo but unlike the giant bamboo, has small, sharp, vicious thorns) from piercing any part of my face. The heat and humidity was making the sweat pour out of me like tiny rivers which ran all over my body, soaking me from head to toe. This trip was hard, tough and very different from anything I had imagined whilst planning my journey back in the calm of Kensington. “So isn't this what you so wanted?” I said to myself. “If you don't like it, it's too bloody late. Stop daydreaming: and cross that ravine.” When, finally and thankfully, I reached the other side, I stopped to take a breather – and said to myself, “Are you sure you haven't bitten off more than you can chew?”

Adam Baines and I first met in the Globetrotters Club. He had just cycled around Vietnam and I was not long back from doing the same in New Zealand. He had heard that I was planning a journey to somewhere in the back of beyond of the Amazon Basin and as we both like living on the edge, so we teamed up, thinking “what the hell, let's do it.” Adam was thirty something, fit, and spoke fluent Spanish; I was fifty something, not so fit and spoke fluent Portuguese.

This was not only the story of a tribe's phoenix like renaissance, but was also the tale of two independent travellers' great adventure way down the Rio Gregoria near the borders of Brazil and Peru. 'Yawanawa' – 21^st Century Warriors' was a taste of where we've been, what we have done and what's been done to us, what we enjoyed what we didn't, did it all turned out cool or did it all end up pear shaped? Like the films used to say – it all started back in the summer, when – – –

So Adam and I went off into the depths of the green rainforest and our story of frustrations and successes have been written down and seen in various articles, slide shows, for the Globetrotters Club and others. To this day we are still good friends having survived the 'Urban Jungle' as well as the 'Amazon jungle'.

A lovely lady had introduced me to the GT Club around seventeen years ago and awakened my interest not only in her lovely self but also to adventure travel around the world. We saw where the Amazon met the sea in Marajo in the north and travelled south to those magnificent falls at Foz do Iquacu as well venturing into Africa. A wonderful adventurous person, the type one could only encounter at our club.

I have met and I'm sure I will still meet some wonderful and life long friends in my time at the Globetrotters Club. So thanks to them, some good nights in the pub with Dick and with the members – Good conversation after the 'Slide Talks' have finished – My independent travelling days are not yet over, with the help of all my vitamins, I will continue to roll around this exciting world, either with or without a travelling companion from our great Globetrotters Club.

About the author Tony Annis: Have camera will travel. Over the top but not yet over the hill. Past sixty five and still alive, my get up and go has not entirely got up and gone – like good whisky, I'm still going strong. Travelling through these global villages of ours is great adventure but to me it is the people that make this wonderful world, as well as the exotic places that I love to visit. See you over the next horizon, Tony.

The first step to getting great digital photo prints is to make sure you use a good quality digital camera. Digital photos are gaining popularity over traditional film photos because of the features and convenience associated with the newer technology. In some cases it’s even more cost effective to print your own photos at home instead of taking them to a developer or sending them in.

Here are some words of wisdom for making great digital photo prints at home.

There are really 4 key components to a great printed photo: Image, Printer, Ink, and Paper. Each is part interrelated therefore equally important for success.

The image is the starting point for a good photo. There are many different camera models out there, but in general, you will need at least 3.2 mega pixel picture taking ability. Some snazzy digital SLR cameras have 8 mega pixels or more. The camera should always be set to the highest resolution while taking the shots just in case you want to make enlargements later on.

Image transfer is crucial! Do not just throw the highest pixel image at some paper, you may not be happy with the results. Sometimes, too high of a pixel count will create unsightly jagged colour transitions in your photo and waste a lot of your ink and time. Too few pixels and the photos will turn out very “grainy”. It’s usually best to stay within the 200-300 pixels per inch range.

This chart may help you determine your appropriate photo sizes.

Legend

• px = Pixels
• mpx = Mega pixels
• ppi = Pixels per inch

(data compiled from PCWorld.com)

For example, if you had a picture taken with a 1.5 Mega pixel digital camera, a 5×7 inch print is probably the largest size print that would work. Anything larger than a 5×7, may not look good. However, if you had a picture taken with a 14 Mega pixel camera, you should be able to print out an 11×14 inch print with excellent results (300ppi), or a “good” looking 16×20 inch print at 200 ppi.In addition to the digital camera image, there are a few other components that go into making good quality digital photos you’ll want to be aware of: Your printer, the ink cartridges you use, and the quality of the photo paper you use. Each component factors into your end result.

Bob Stephens is director of operations for ASAP Inkjets. ASAP Inkjets offers ink cartridges & toner at up to 80% below retail. Sign-up for their free newsletter for tips & discounts at: http://www.asapinkjets.com/ or email: subscribe@asapinkjets.com

The Similan Islands can be found about one hundred kilometres northwest of Phuket, Thailand. They comprise nine granite islands covered in tropical jungle. The word Similan is said to be given by Malay fisherman who named it “The Nine Islands” (Sembilan is “nine” in Malay) and now the islands are identified by a Thai name and a number, for example, Ko Huyong (Island #1), located at the southern end of the chain or Ko Miang (Island #4) located in the middle. The Similan Islands are national parks and there is limited accommodation on them.

The Beetle has always been attracted to the idea of diving in the Similan Islands, and they are reckoned to be the second best dive site in SE Asia, after Sipadan. It is not possible to stay on the Similans and dive, so the usual arrangement is to stay on a liveaboard. These are not cheap and range from US $300 and upwards for 3 nights stay. Generally speaking with liveaboards, you get what you pay for, so the more you pay, generally, the better living accommodation you have, nicer food and so on.

This was not to be my case as I soon discovered. First, I was told that I would not be sharing my cabin with a male, and that the cabins had bunk beds on top of each other. What actually happened is that I shared my cabin with a young Canadian guy who was very nice, and the beds were about two feet apart and not bunk beds at all. Next I discovered that the boat was in fact over booked and that there was one dive passenger too many on board. There was a jumble around with the mostly male group and someone slept with the three dive masters in what can best be described as a hole under the bow, though in the end, there was a fight to sleep on top of the boat because it was so hot and damned uncomfortable. Except it rained and then there was a fight to get back down again. The food was okay, but we started to run out of food, especially items such as milk after two days. I started to feel a little bit ripped off, I’d paid a lot of money – US $600 which I couldn’t really afford, but did so because I felt it was a once in a lifetime chance, and that I was in Thailand, why not, but I came away feeling that it was extremely poor value for money and the diving wasn’t actually that good, and I would not repeat the experience.

There were 15 of us and three dive guides. Usually, you are put into groups according to experience, but this did not happen here, so we had mixed ability groups, and then I discovered that of the 15 people, 5 people were novices and had only just completed their PADI open water course, which seemed incredibly mean for them – the Similans is not easy diving, strong currents and deep. The problem with being in mixed groups is that in these conditions, you usually have to surface when the first person is low on air and needs to come up to the surface, and in this case, this was sometimes after 20 minutes. Not ideal. Having said this, the beginner divers coped extremely well with the difficult conditions, far better than I would have at their level. It wasn’t their fault, they’d just been ill advised to go to the Similan Islands. There was one couple who didn’t mix much with the rest of the group, who between them had a couple of hundred dives. It seemed to be their mission to destroy as much sea life as possible on each and every dive. Between them, they seemed to flatten and break any hard corals that came in their way. Night dives were the worst times to witness this mass destruction. The dive guides said and did nothing about this blatant lack of consideration, and bad dive manners. None of us wanted to dive with them, and after a while they were allowed to go off and do their own thing as they were also avid photographers and were usually far behind the rest of the group anyway.

Night dives were a complete fiasco. The first two sets of night dives were taken by just two of the dive masters, so picture this, 15 divers and 2 dive masters and a whole bunch of inadequate torches. They bumped, jostled, elbowed, finned each other in the face, the back, leg, you name it. It was horrible and unpleasant and if someone saw, as happened, a turtle, then everyone swooped on it and shone their feeble torches in its eyes. On the last night dive, there was only one dive master for the group as the other was ill. Each of the dive masters was very nice and interesting to talk to, and I should say that they were all safe, but it became increasingly clear that they did not get on and that this was the first time they’d all worked together. The crew were pretty lazy. They would help you if they were being watched, but if there was no-one around, they’d just sit and watch you.

What was it like? Disappointing, in a word. Very quiet, not huge amounts of aquatic life, certainly no leopard sharks which are supposed to be common there (the picture is of a leopard shark at Sipadan, about 3m long but totally harmless). Strong currents in places, a lot of surge in others, and in one case, 3m visibility. I’d done a couple of dives around the Phi Phi islands on a cattle boat (i.e. 45 divers), which whilst the visibility was not that great, the diving was far superior to all but two of the dives I did on the Similan Islands. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, it should not have been like this.

At first, I thought it was me, that maybe I had hyped the Similans up too much in my mind, especially having dived in Sipadan just two weeks earlier which was in every way far, far better than the Similans. No, I am an experienced diver, I don’t think it was a case of expecting too much, but it just didn’t hang together.

When I got back to Bangkok, I put a message on the dive board of the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree (an excellent resource) about my experience asking if other people had had a similar time. Slowly, slowly, the replies came in: who did I go with? Which sites did we dive and so on. Eventually, with input from dive instructors based in Phuket and other dissatisfied customers I pieced together what had really happened. It seems to be like this: the owner of the boat is greedy, he pays the crew including the dive masters very little, but is good at marketing. The three dive masters had never worked together before and were relatively new to the Similans and one is well known for not looking after their charges. Theï¿Â½dive sites we visited were largely not the best for diving, but more convenient for the sailing schedule. I am not pleased that given the money I paid that we didn’t even tick off some of the best sites, we just didn’t. A classic flog it and ignore the complaints scenario.

So what did I learn, and what is the motto of the story? It wasn’t all a disaster. Getting wet, i.e. any kind of diving is usually good, and there were two excellent dive sites we visited, but the rest, the remaining 12 were distinctly lack lustre, considering the Similan Island’s reputation – and the night dives were appalling. I went right at the start of the season, and this was the boat’s first trip of the season (old boat, new season). Maybe I should have waited until later in the season when operations became smoother. I’d recommend asking around, getting personal recommendations by people who have made the trip. Ask the right questions, like how many divers per dive guide? Are the groups segregated by experience? Which sites do you go to?

If anyone has had any good experiences of the Similans, I’d love to hear from them.

Carlson Wagonlit Travel Associates unveiled the 2006 results of their annual Travel Trends Survey resulting from a poll of 363 of their travel associate owners, managers and front-line agents throughout the United States at the end of 2005.

Las Vegas remains top of domestic US destinations and Caribbean cruising continues to be the hottest international option for travellers. Caribbean cruising was followed by the Riviera Maya in Mexico with 51.2 per cent while Cancun in Mexico was third with 49.3 per cent. Jamaica was ranked 4th and Puerto Vallarta made a leap into the top five from its 12th position in 2005. The surge in travel to Puerto Vallarta and the western coast of Mexico has been attributed to the aftermath of Hurricane Wilma.

According to a new study by Zurich-based firm private client and business advisors Henley & Partners AG, citizens of Denmark, Finland and the United States have the greatest freedom to travel without needing visas. The study team found that Danes, Finns and Americans can travel to 130 countries or territories without a visa. Next are citizens of Germany, Ireland and Sweden whose citizens can visit 129 countries without a visa, then Britain, France, Italy and Japan (128). Canada tied with Austria, Luxembourg and New Zealand in 16th place on the list where citizens of these countries can visit 125 states without a visa.

Who came last? IN other words, citizens of which country require the most visas to travel? Afghanistan came in last place, with its citizens allowed free travel to just 12 countries. Iran was next at 14, followed by Iraq, Myanmar and Somalia at 15.

Yes, it’s a dammed nuisance when travelling in China not to be able to find an internet café. Now, you should be able to find more, but at a price.

Google, the world’s largest search engine will now be offering Google services to China’s 110 million online users. Google is the latest internet company, after Yahoo and Microsoft to go to China. Critics say that this move will effectively help the China government to block websites and access to information with politically sensitive comments that the government does not approve of.

According to one internet media insider, the main taboos are the three Ts: Tibet, Taiwan and the Tiananmen massacre, and the two Cs: cults such as Falun Gong (type “Falun Gong” in the search engine from a Beijing computer and the only results that can be accessed are official condemnations), and criticism of the Communist party, though this list is frequently updated. The China government has developed sophisticated filters have been developed to block or limit access to “unhealthy information”, which includes human rights websites, such as Amnesty, foreign news outlets, such as the BBC, references to the Tiananmen Square massacre, criticism of the politburo as well as pornography. Of the 64 internet dissidents in prison worldwide, 54 are from China.

Google, along with Yahoo and Microsoft face sever criticism from free speech advocates, internet activists and politicians, some of whom are already asking how the company’s policy in China accords with its mission statement: to make all possible information available to everyone who has a computer or mobile phone. Julian Pain of Reporters Without Borders – a group that also has its website blocked in China – accused Google of hypocrisy. “This is very bad news for the internet in China. Google were the only ones who held out. So the Chinese government had to block information themselves. But now Google will do it for them,” he said. “They have two standards. One for the US, where they resist government demands for personal information, and one for China, where they are helping the authorities block thousands of websites.”

Mac has not been very well, but is still e-mailing strong. In this edition of the Globetrotter e-newsletter, Mac sympathises with the Beetle for being given a hard time in Sydney and talks about some of his time in Japan whilst based there shortly after WW2.

A few years back I took a train to Montréal. The train on this route only went to the border and you had to get on a bus to go thorough Canadian customs and the rest of the way to Montréal. I was the oldest person on bus full of hippies. Some looked like terrorists. None of them were detained except me who was called aside into a room and questioned. I always carry not an excessive amount but enough travellers’ checks in case I get sick and have to come back by air. I had declared this on customs form. They kept asking me why I was taking so many travellers checks into Canada. I said To spend in Canada and also to have in case I need to fly back etc. I was polite and maybe even bowed although I was not in China now and I tried to be gracious but I was annoyed that I was selected for grilling although I showed them all kinds of ID, passport, military retired card, McDonalds hamburger card etc. I too got suspicious looks from fellow passengers who had been delayed because of me. I wrote the Canadian Tourist Bureau telling them I was curious as to why I had been selected for the grilling but got no answer. I have not been back to Canada since but not because of this slight inconvenience (or maybe subconsciously it has played a part.) Montreal is one of the most interesting cities in the world so I should try it again and this time I will try to look like a hippie terrorist that can hardly speak English.

If I had my life to live over I would do even more travelling than I have. I have never regretted any trips I took and relive them when looking over my travel and journal notes. I seem to have taken down more notes in Japan where I was stationed for five and one half years than anywhere else. Here are some notes from my odd travel and journals.

A German diplomat in Japan tells me that Wilfred (my name) is a German name and means “I want peace” or “I want a piece.”

Off to a bad start this morning. Someone dropped the Majors’ suitcase all the way from the plane door to the cement runway. This prompted one of the guys to say “There will be turbulence this morning.” (Weather squadron.)

I arrived in Hong Kong dirty and tired and found we could not have water in hotel except between seven and seven thirty at night as they still have water shortages. Lt Culler could not wear his orange flight suit into Bangkok as it is the same colour as the Buddhist robes. (If he had a bowl maybe he could have gotten some food offerings. Ha.)

Capt S’s little three year old boy (his wife is Swedish) goes to a Japanese school. They want him to learn Japanese, (the family has gone all out Japanese). The wife is learning Japanese dancing and she is a tall woman who even when dressed in kimono and Japanese wig etc still does not look Japanese. Sgt K in our outfit is kept busy writing notes in Japanese back and forth to the Japanese teacher – how do I say I want to go to the toilet? Say Benjo which is Japanese word for toilet. Does not apply to song I have a banjo on my knee.

The Japanese are so polite. I have in my notes a Japanese word that means Thank you for insulting me. The Japanese girl at the travel bureau phoning for reservations for me used the following phonetic system to spell my name. M Mike, C China, c Small China, A American, R Room, T Tokyo, Y Yamagata: McCarty.

The Japanese nuns teaching American community had a bazaar to raise money. Each foreign Embassy had a booth. The Columbia one had a sign “Cleopatra and Mark Anthony went for coffee. Romeo and Juliet went for coffee. Now lets all go for coffee”. I asked one of the nuns if she was going to buy one of the $100 high style dresses donated to the bazaar. (I am always hard up for conversation) She with a grin Oh yes, two of them. Not for myself of course.

They had a little farewell party for the Chaplains wife (Protestant) who is returning to the States. A Japanese employee wrote a farewell poem to her in tribute in Japanese They asked another Japanese to translate the tribute. She read “Homeward the old goose goes.” The wife laughed the hardest of all.

Nov 10 was the Shiri-taume festival or pinching buttocks festival at Atenashi Shrine kin Usami, Ite Shizucka Prefecture. Sunday I was at Wedding Centre, Nihaenkaku. 1760 couples were married in two months, Oct and Nov being the months for weddings. On one day alone, 145 couples were married – this was before Rev Moon in Korea started mass weddings. The reason why so many people get married on same day is that they are lucky days. There are also unlucky days to get married, some claim they are all unlucky days.

At the Miyako Hotel in Kyoto they have a “right away” button for urgent service. They also have another button to be used for routine service. In our mess hall at Hickam, they seem to have stew every day but under different names.

If you would like to get in touch with Mac, he is happy to correspond by e-mail when he is well. His e-mail address is: macsan400@yahoo.com

The French Transport Ministry has instructed its civil aviation authority to discuss the security practices of the low-cost airline Ryanair with regulators in Ireland and Britain. The ministry issued a statement after the broadcasting of a television documentary in Britain in January 2006 that alleged that security practices were occasionally flouted by the Ireland-based airline.

The documentary, screened by Channel 4 in the UK alleged that passport checks before boarding were not carried out properly, trainee employees were not given necessary training and planes were not cleaned adequately between flights.

When based in Asmara , Eritrea and off-duty , I was determined to research as much of the history of the country. One of the fascinating facets is readily available on the Internet – just search for “steam-trains. ” But finding the restored trains proved more difficult.

I was extremely fortunate to discover the whereabouts of the old Asmara Railway Station being tucked away off the main eastern entrance road that itself meanders up the fearsome passes that connects to the coastal port of Massawa. No locals were able to direct me, especially given the language barrier. I spoke a few words of Tigrinia and most spoke little if any English.

The little station looks exactly like any old movie, as do the little narrow-gauge rolling stock. There are several steam-engines reposing in a shed. They were built in the Italian city of Breda and some date back to 1937. On my first visit there, I learned that a group of German tourists were due to visit there on the next Saturday. I was luckily off-duty that day, so naturally made my way to the station.

The Germans, an all male group were enthralled and clicked away with every description of cameras and also whirring away with a multitude of video cameras. Fortunately they made no objection to my discreet presence as I too clicked away.

The steam engine puffed up to the carriages with much tooting and then left the station down the mountain passes. At every stone bridge and tunnel, the engine driver obligingly reversed back and forth so that many photos could be taken. At some old halts en route, the tourists were able to disembark in order to take photos at ground level. A fruitful day for them indeed.

Due to the Ethiopian/ Eritrean wars, the railway system got into a serious state of disrepair. Rails and sleepers were used elsewhere for road bridges, buildings or fortifications.

Since the last war ended in 2000, the Eritrean Railway Company got restarted with State assistance. Many aged artisans came out of retirement to show the younger generation exactly how to restore, rebuild and maintain the steam engines and rolling stock.

Many parts of the rail-bed had to be repaired using bulldozers, front-end loaders, graders and labourers, before rejuvenated rails and sleepers could be re-laid.

The Eritrean railway system had originally been built by the Italians during the ’20’s when they occupied Abyssinia (later renamed Ethiopia) and the meticulous stone bridges and tunnels are a lasting tribute to their artisans. Mines had also to be cleared from many places like bridges, tunnels and roadbeds.

It was envisaged that steam-train enthusiasts from all over the world would flock to Eritrea to view the unique narrow-gauge system. This of course depends on the fragile peace between Eritrea and Ethiopia, which lately has seen much rhetoric and sabre rattling between the two sides. The UN-presence has been instrumental since 2000 to preserve the peace.

The Practicalities of Getting to Eritrea

Travelling into Eritrea has for years been extremely difficult. They have had many years of wars with their neighbour and former ruler Ethiopia, so thus have become extremely careful of any new arrivals.

As far as is known, genuine tourists that have booked Red Sea dives will obtain visas. In our flying staff’s case, getting a visa was “easy ” provided one followed the UN procedure. This required :

1. Obtaining a fax/e-mail copy of the arriving crew-member’s passport ;

2. Writing a letter to the UN in Asmara [capital of Eritrea] to which one then attached the copy of the incoming crew-member’s passport;

3. I used to visit the Head of the Travel Dept , who in turn dictated another letter addressed to the relevant Colonel of the Eritrean Army;

4. When this letter was typed and signed, one was ready for the next steps;

5. Make 3 photo-copies in advance of everything, as the army & immigration dept photocopy machines were not serviceable.

6. It was found expedient to phone ahead to the Colonel’s office for an appointment but one often found him out, away or busy.

7. When finally seated face-to-face with a very pleasant Colonel, getting the approval letter was usually done quickly, especially as I used to take along a bottle of South African liqueur or a old novel

8. The final step was to the Immigration Department where there invariably a long queue. Of course they too had an application form requiring to be filled in, so I learned to pre-enter it having made photocopies of that as well, beforehand. Visa periods could go to 6 months, but usually they were valid for 30 days.

If one was lucky enough to get to the counter that day, then the wad of letters and visa application form were handed in and a suitable fee was to be paid in US $ notes-[about $150 was the usual. ] More queues – one at the cashier’s office and another queue back at the Immigration’s Visa counter, to hand over the receipt. It also was not a good idea to have to visit the toilet whilst in the queue.

Now came the wait for the Visa to be issued. If the issuing person was in his office, then the Visa would be typed & signed within a few hours, but often it was best to return the next day. More queuing for your turn to find out if the latest wad of visas, brought down from a upstairs office, contained the one you handed in.

On the next day, after patiently waiting in a long queue, one invariably found a semi-literate clerk who could hardly understand English or even Italian, who could not find any of one’s documents. Knowing a few words of the local language, Tigrinya certainly helps. Thus back to one’s own office to start again. The answer was to present him/her with a spare set of photo-copied letters with passport copy and application form, so that they could compare the person’s picture, name and locate the Visa and hand it over.

Once in possession of the Incoming Crew’s Visa, it was best to scan it, e-mail it to them so as to present it on arrival at Asmara Airport. It was possible for the Immigration department to have the visa on hand on arrival but that took a lengthy wait in yet another queue there.

It was not possible to apply for a Visa at the airport of arrival. Anyone arriving without a visa was summarily deported; being put back onto the aircraft that brought you there was the usual procedure. Thus there were of course additional flight and accommodation costs. This happened once to an incoming crew-member required urgently. Nobody realized in time that the Eritrean Army & Immigration Offices would be closed for public holidays on a Tuesday and the next day as well. So although armed with all application forms, UN and Army letters, and presented to Immigration Officials at the Asmara Airport by me beforehand, that incoming crew-member found himself deported! When flying from Nairobi to Eritrea on Eritrean Airlines Boeing 767, they positioned an officious clerk at the aircraft door to expressly check every passenger to make sure they held valid visas.

Yet another method of visa acquisition was possible; by applying at the Eritrean Embassy. In our case this was in Pretoria but it took a week and cost plenty more than when obtained in Eritrea.

So good luck!

Theo Truter has been a light aircraft pilot all his life, flying all over Africa for the past 5 years doing UN-Contracts and other Contract flying – and before that a mixture of executive flights, safari flights, air charters, flying training and Consulting. That’s how he came to be in Eritrea, from whence his article’s research was made.

Using his camera he’s indulged in a bit of photo-journalism whenever possible & now has also added to his duties being the Editor for a worldwide weekly newsletter called South Africans Worldwide at www. saw. co. za

My arrival into Sydney at 5. 30am on a June Sunday morning did not bode well as a sign of enjoying my week long stay in Australia. After waiting patiently in a queue to get through immigration, I went down to the baggage claim. No sooner had I got there when I got taken aside by Customs and frisked – arms and legs splayed and repeatedly asked what I had in my luggage though it had not arrived. I noticed other arrivals from the same plane look me up and down and give me a wide berth. Did I have alcohol, cigarettes, perfume, or anything else over the limit or anything else that I should have declared?

I had none of these items and the aggressive questioning really irritated me, even more so because I was sitting next to 2 lovely men from Croatia on the plane from Singapore, and they were both carrying about 12 bottles of plum brandy each, from their family trip home to Zagreb, and I was carrying absolutely nothing incriminating whatsoever! The woman asked to see my passport and took an inordinate amount of time flipping each page over and an almost audible tut could be heard as she flicked through. My Customs card was in my passport and she took it out and wrote something on it. I could not quite make out what, but it looked like a number. Talk about having your card marked. She handed my passport back to me and left me without saying a word so I went over to the luggage carousel and waited.

Whilst waiting for my luggage to arrive, I got talking to a lady in a wheel chair and helped her with her luggage when I caught the same Customs woman watching me with a beady look in her eye. I then realised I was in for the long run here at Sydney airport and thought back about why she had descended on me, why she was being so rude and aggressive and why she had picked me out. Maybe because I looked slightly dishevelled after the overnight flight, maybe because my passport has a lot of stamps in it or maybe she just doesn’t like Beetles – who knows, I will never find out.

My luggage arrived, just a small suitcase (with a suit, shoes, couple of books, jeans, jumpers and that really was about it), and when I got to the Customs post, the inspector looked at my Customs form, I noticed the same Customs woman walking towards me and then I was promptly handed back to her with no words, no explanation and taken away into a side area. The whole thing had an Orwellian feel to it.

I was instructed to open my own luggage, but not to touch anything inside. If I hadn’t been so tired, it would have been quite funny, because she was so dramatic, barking orders like I’d just arrived in prison and had to obey without question. Back pack first, then luggage. Item no 1 in my day pack: yummy biscuits from Singapore for the journey I’d planned to make to the Blue Mountains. The female customs official tried to confiscate my chocolate chip shortbread biscuits bought in Singapore for the long airport wait and I’d forgotten to eat them, by claiming them to be ‘food’ – I agreed and said yes, shortbread is food, but they are unopened and totally allowed. I asked her if she wanted one and she sourly said that she could not accept food because it might be poisoned. My day dreaming got slightly the better of me, I’d taken the seven hour overnight flight from Singapore, had no sleep and was far from best form but some childish notion inside me propelled me to an alternate universe where I was watching the Customs woman writhing on the ground having eaten a poisoned biscuit.

The female customs official then got slightly hysterical because I have been to Indonesia not once but twice (and now three times) and she would not listen to my answers. Diving, I kept saying, for diving. She kept telling me that I had been to Bali in December 2004, and I kept saying no, it was 2 years ago in December i. e. 2003, it was like a pantomime act – oh yes you have, oh no, I haven’t. I started to wonder – are you supposed to argue with Customs officials? What happens if they think you are being argumentative, what powers do they have next, even though I am only telling the truth because this woman is mistaken. Then she saw the recent US stamp and then the Myanmar stamp and this sent her into a whole line about why, why, why, why without bothering to listen to my responses which were polite and succinct.

I have no idea whether I was being accused of being an international terrorist or a drug dealer or what, but the woman was fast gathering speed in her distrust of me and there seemed to be some unspoken accusation hanging in the air. I asked the woman, why did you stop me, what is it that you suspect me of? She told me in very snotty and superior tones that she was not at liberty to tell me. So not a good start! And what was so ironic about this whole episode – I was after another 30 minutes dismissed – when I got out of the airport and later picked up a newspaper, I discovered that the whole of Australia was up in arms about the Queensland woman who got caught smuggling 4 ½ kgs of cannabis in her boogie board in Bali, and the suspicion that they had been put there by a Brisbane airport based gang of airport based dug dealer baggage handlers.

It was winter in Oz back then, in June 2005 when I made this trip, so it was like an early autumn day in the UK, cold and windy, briskly chilly but sunny at the same time, if that makes sense. I spent only a week in Australia and visited the Blue Mountains for a few days and spent the rest of my week in Sydney; did the usual touristy kind of things, Darling Harbour, Opera House, the Botanical gardens. I especially liked Darling Harbour which is really lovely to wander around. There are some very nice sculptures in a tranquil area bordered by the sea on one side and tall high rise buildings on the other. It felt a little bit like being in Manhattan. There’s one lovely huge spiral pond type of thing, a bit like an Escher drawing that consists of lots of downward spirals like a snail shell each carrying dribbles of water. That had me fascinated.

I have been to Sydney three times before and have never been carried away by it, and I hope that my airport experience did not colour my view, but I came to the conclusion that the area from Liverpool st upwards to circular quay – about half a km – is architecturally interesting, with a mix of early 20th century buildings and modern high rise, and it too has character. But there are some pretty hideous modern buildings when they could be so amazing – there are so many cities, London included, where modern architecture, in my opinion anyway is done so well. I found the rest of metropolitan Sydney to be pretty dull (sorry Australian readers!) and samey and decidedly lacking character, though found a nice suburb, Surrey Hills, just to the right of central Station which has lots of nice cafes and restaurants and those colonial types of narrow terraced houses with pretty wrought iron balconies. I also kept being ripped off with change, this happened every single day when I would be short changed in shops. I was also over charged by the hotel I stayed in in the Blue Mountains, which again didn’t feel too good; I guess this thing happens everywhere where you are noticeably from out of town, but this is the first time in any country this has happened to me.

What could I have done differently? I really don’t know, maybe it is luck of the draw, but it was not a good experience and the attitude of the Customs official was really uncalled for and quite unnecessary. Have you had any bad airport experiences? Write in and tell the Beetle!