Abrams Family World Travel

World Travel: Groundhog Day

TEN pm and we were driving around Auckland when we should have been in the sky, on our way from New Zealand to Vancouver, Canada.

We had been sitting at the gate for our international flight when my name was called over the loudspeaker.

Jamie and I glanced at each other, thinking 'what could this be about?'

I was soon to find out. 

When I got to the Air New Zealand representatives, I was told we couldn't fly - because we didn't have an onward-bound ticket from Canada.

We were going to Canada for three months, everything booked, and were not sure of our next move, so left it open.

I check for small details like this before planning trips. And while it's clearly stated before entering countries like Australia and New Zealand that you need an onward-bound ticket, I didn't read anything similar for Canada. Well, apparently you do. I must have missed this one. 

So after representatives failed to help me sort it out as time approached for us to board, I was advised to go to the internet counter and book a flight. Any flight.

With time ticking, I searched the net for a good deal, but there was nothing cheap and when I finally nailed a flight (which wasn't cheap), my credit card denied the transaction. I suppose the fee was too large and it flagged up a security warning. It's great to know my credit card people are watching out for fraudsters, but it didn't help me on this occasion.

I was resigned to defeat. There wasn't enough time left. I returned to the airline counter and explained what had happened. Out came the manager, all apologetic but firm, doing her job and explaining we had to come off the flight.

"So what next?" I asked.

"You'll have to get another flight," she replied.

"You mean buy another one?" I asked.

"Possibly," she said.

This was now going from huge inconvenience to disaster. But I managed to stay calm. I accepted our fate and had to fill in landing cards, as though we had all arrived in New Zealand, in order to go through immigration and passport control to collect our luggage etc.

It took forever. Soon Jamie and the kids, all looking tired and a bit flummoxed, joined me.

We made our way back, finding it hard not to think about the prospect of doing it all again the next day. There was good news around the corner, though. It turned out we didn't have to buy new flights and that we would be put on the same flight 24 hours later, so long as we had proof of an onward-bound journey in Canada.

All of us were hungry. We finally got through to the main airport area, where we had to wait to be reunited with our bags and then sort out paperwork for the flight the next day.

Another manager came over to me to explain the situation, saying that ALL non-Canadian and non-American citizens must have onward-bound flights upon arrival in Canada. That means Kobra and I, since Zenchai has an American passport. 

Then more good news - he said the airline (Air New Zealand) would put us up in a hotel for the night and pay for the taxis etc, which was a relief given our cab meter was at NZ$84 by the time we arrived.

So we waited, snacking on apples and letting the kids run around the busy airport, until finally we had taxi and hotel vouchers presented to us.

We loaded ourselves into a cab and set off, only for the taxi driver to end up in the wrong part of town.

Eventually, we got there - too late for any dinner. Quickly, I sent a message to the person who had offered to fetch us from Vancouver airport, hoping she'd get it in time. We then just stripped off and got into bed. What a day. 

The next morning I was on the internet checking out flights until a friend (and travel agent) helped me out. We were all set.

Slowly, we made our way through the day. I took Zenchai to a nearby park to allow him to exert some energy and work his legs in readiness for 13 hours on an airplane.

Eventually, the time came to again set off for the airport - 15 minutes away. We arrived in good time, produced our documents showing we would be leaving Canada, and headed on through to the gate once more.

It was a tough flight, though. None of us, except for Kobra, really slept. Zenchai was over-tired and probably over-stimulated from the in-flight entertainment. Air New Zealand is a great airline, but we struggled through to Canada.

Upon arrival, the immigration lines were long. We queued until an officer saw Jamie nursing Kobra and pulled us out to a faster track.

But the immigration officer grilled us. "Where are you staying?" "How are you affording this?" "How long have you been travelling?" What sort of work do you do?" "Where was your daughter born?" "Does she have a Brazilian passport?" "Can I see it?" etc.

That wasn't the end of it. We were then pulled out of line again, this time to have our bags searched. It appeared like a random procedure, but I didn't think we particularly looked like smugglers.

In the end, though, the officer asked some more questions, took our passports, presumably ran a few checks and came back satisfied. 

We were in Vancouver, safely. It was colder than in New Zealand - cloudy with drizzle, but not as cold as I had anticipated. We arrived at our home for the next three months, a cosy Laneway Home, and slowly settled in. Seasoned travellers we may all be, but it still doesn't get any easier. 

World Travel: Surviving Motion Sickness

I'M not the worst in our family for motion sickness. I recall years ago, when on holiday in Mauritius on a deep-sea fishing trip (my pre-vegan days), being sick the entire time (about six hours). And as a kid, when we used to take family trips through Europe, I'd often have my head hanging out of the window of my dad's Renault 16 (especially on winding roads) or whatever model he had at the time.

But Zenchai's in a different league. He'll get sick if we go over a speed bump! No, I'm exagerating the point, but the little guy is terribly sensitive to motion sickness. He's okay on city buses, trains, quad bikes and Indian/Thai tuk-tuks, but fast taxis, bumpy aeroplane rides, rough ferry crossings and long-distance coaches in particular have his little guts stewing.

What prompted this blog was our trip down from Auckland to beautiful Napier by coach on New Year's Day. I thought it was a relatively smooth one, but not Zenchai. 

About two hours into the journey, after he'd chowed down a few peanut butter sandwiches (not the Stig sandwiches he's pictured with above) for breakfast, he started to feel ill. 

I noticed the signs - the frequent yawning. But we didn't react fast enough. Zenchai complained he wasn't feeling well. Jamie, sat in front of us with Kobra, started searching for a bag and then handed it to me. I tried getting it open. But it was too late. As I fumbled trying to find the bag opening, Zenchai projectile vommited all over himself and me. Yuck!

Then something amazing happened. An Australian passenger travelling alone (a man and father of two teenage boys) quickly dashed to the rescue and offered his help!

Armed with a bag of baby wipes, I accepted his assistance (of course) and handed them to him. Between us, we managed to mop up most of the sick. 

We've been through this scenario before, especially when in Ecuador, where the roads are winding and the drivers handle them like maniacs.

So armed with some experience, here are our tips for surviving motion sickness with children.

1. Don't read.

2. Get fresh air (if possible).

3. Watch the road and get a seat near the front if on a coach or bus.

4. Get your child to sleep if he or she can.

5. Travel on an empty stomach (which is contrary to a lot of advice, but just my experience). If you must eat, try potato chips (we don't usually eat them, but they apparently work for those with sensitive guts and we tried it recently on Zenchai - with success)

6. Carry extra clothing.

7. Make sure you have sick bags.

8. Take baby wipes or something to clean up a mess with.

After Zenchai had emptied the contents of his belly, he was pretty much okay. He at least survived the remaining three hours on the road, though Kobra had her turn and spat up all over Jamie, who isn't a great coach traveller either.

But don't let all of this put you off embarking on long travels with your children. After all, if we can survive then surely anyone can. 

 

Melbourne: More Random Acts Of Kindness

WE must be doing something right to attract good energy. I mean, to be pitched (literally) by the beach in Australia, living outdoors in the fresh air and have all our camping equipment provided for free by friends!

Throughout our journey around the world we have been the recipients of random acts of kindness. It doesn't matter how small or large, it always blows me away, reminds me there are lovely people in the world and makes me want to reciprocate.

I was chatting one morning after training with the coach at Crossfit Mornington Peninsula (who is from Watford, close to where we used to live in England). She asked what I was up to for the weekend and I explained we were heading back into town (Melbourne), by public transport.

Without batting an eyelid, she and her husband asked if we'd like to borrow their car, not just for the weekend, but for the remainder of our stay in Rosebud!

Of course, I was stunned by the offer and gratefully accepted. And they also found a car seat for Kobra (from another member of the gym) and hooked that in for us as well! Lovely people.

Consequently, our world opened up enormously. Places to visit that were out of reach (for kids and by bicycle) were suddenly on the agenda. 

Then on another day, as I was washing dishes (as usual) by the tap near our tent, a neighbour approached, carrying a can of fuel.

I knew he was leaving any day, so assumed he was coming to say 'goodbye'. But instead he offered us the fuel from his container.

He said he wasn't allowed to take it on the ferry to Tasmania and would have to throw it. But he opted to give it to us instead. Nice man. 

As if that were not enough, another camping resident (and a Bobby on the beat) we became friendly with, offered to help us move back to Melbourne. He said he'd collect all our stuff in his trailer (if we wanted). He checked his work schedule on his iphone and said he was free. "Give me a call," he said. "I'll bring my son and he can play with yours before we go."

Turns out that our plans changed and we told him "thanks, but we're leaving a few days later". He still checked his schedule and said he'd try to come. 

Then our Crossfit coach, who allowed us to borrow her car, offered, without prompting, to drive us back into Melbourne. "No problem," she said. And she did, even sacrificing a massage appointment in the process. 

The generosity didn't end there either. The day we finished camping, Nikki and Tony, our good friends who allowed us to borrow all their equipment, came to help us take it all down. Then they said I could use their car to ferry Jamie and the kids to our airport hotel, probably saving us about $150 in taxi fees.

To cap it all, I received an email from No Worries Curries, a Melbourne company run by a charming husband and wife originally from Goa, who make truly fabulous spice packs. I'd posted some comments on her Facebook page - genuine comments - and she wrote back to me, offering some freebies. 

So when people ask me if I ever regret leaving behind England and a stable job, I always say no for two reasons: 1. the fantastic people we have met along our journey and 2. the great experiences we have had. Some things money cannot buy. 

 

Ubud: Driving Rules? There Are No Rules

MY heading is a bit misleading, but there are certain things you need to know before taking to the roads here. Of course, there are rules. It's not complete chaos - like driving in India or Cairo. But at times it feels like it. Actually, most of the time.

It doesn't help most of the roads are so narrow and full of holes and that there are scores of motorbikes, most of which overtake without hesitation on the inside and out. Near-misses are a daily occurrence. Jamie refuses to drive here.

At least the Balinese mostly wear helmets (which isn't the case in Chiang Mai, for instance). But you see three or four people to a bike and sometimes a parent carrying a small child who is fast asleep!

There is plenty of pollution because traffic in the centre can build up. We keep the windows up and AC on when we get into town - even though we dislike using AC. 

But driving in this charming town is made a little harder because our cheap car rental doesn't have much oomph. Just the other day it conked out going up a steep hill. I had to yank up the handbrake and start it up again with a long line of impatient traffic behind me. Even in first gear and with plenty of gas, it choked its way up.

Much of the time our Suzuki feels like a tank. It's not quite swift enough to dodge the barking mutts out in the street, some of whom just laze in the road and don't even move as you approach, which doesn't help when you need to swerve around it and a vehicle is approaching from the opposite direction. Then there are all the chickens, roosters, the pedestrians, children, people carrying large loads…you really need to have your wits about you.

If you get out of town, you might encounter cattle and pigs along the road, too. We've found the signposting in some more remote areas out of town almost non-existent. It's really a case of knowing your geography, having a map and asking directions. But I've been advised to always get a second opinion. Balinese are polite people, so will give you any direction rather than say they don't know.

At major junctions it is not clear who has the right of way. I really couldn't figure it out. In the end, I just forced my way out. Then I read an article from a local trying to make sense of it. She said it's about eye contact! That didn't help me, seeing most cars have tinted windows and motorcyclists helmets. Big trucks and buses usually won't take their turn, so beware!

If a car flashes you in England, it usually means the car is letting you pass. But here it signals the opposite. I got caught out a few times and it's hairy.

And if a car puts on its hazard lights at a junction it usually means the vehicle is going straight and not that it has a problem. 

Parking can be a hassle as well. With the roads being so narrow, you need to find either an official parking spot or stop to the side, leaving enough space for passing traffic. 

Be careful not to go too far to the side on the small side streets, because they all have deep gutters (used for burning litter). Once you're in there, you're not coming out - without the help of a tow truck. I've seen a few motorbikes being fished out.

And in the centre of town, where it's really busy, parking is harder. In some areas if you find a spot (not too difficult early in the day), the chances are you will be charged, though the fee is minimal. Don't bother trying to argue because there are no signs saying you must pay to park. 

However, I did complain when parking at the Monkey Forest for that very reason. Someone just turned up as we left and demanded payment. I told him he needed to inform me in advance and not when I had finished. 

But that's how things work around here. If they can extract another 1,000 rupees from you they will. 

When all is said and done, having a car (even our slow one, pictured above) is better than not having one - unless you are located centrally.

The alternative is taking taxis and, as visitors, we've been overcharged several times. Bargain hard with them. Everyone here seems to be a taxi driver. 

Although I prefer to walk when I can, it isn't always an easy option, particularly in heat and with young children. In places there are no pavements and where there are, often they are horribly uneven. 

Zenchai, for one, prefers getting around by car, but that's because he didn't enjoy the street dogs all barking at him.

The Balinese people aren't so aggressive, though. In fact, they are on the whole very friendly. And even on the roads, it's more a case of volume of traffic and disorder and worn road surfaces than terrible driving which makes getting around feel so perilous. However, my wife isn't convinced about how capable the Balinese are of controlling their vehicles. 

Phuket: Quick Dose Of Beach Life

HOW good it felt to be back by the ocean again. We stopped in Phuket for a day to break up our journey from Chiang Mai to Bali. We're glad we did.

The kids played outdoors practically the whole time, but there was a price to pay. The sun was scorching. For the first time ever, Zenchai got mildly sun-burned. In fact, we all did - and it didn't take long. Be warned.

It is said that Phuket has two seasons: hot and wet; and bloody hot! Officially, it was rainy season and our hotel was practically deserted. We had a few trickles of rain, but it was mostly sunny.

We didn't surface until late in the day as we had left Chiang Mai on an overnight flight and arrived in the ealy hours of the morning. We were all tired.

But after breakfast the kids were in the pool, which they had all to themselves. Zenchai swam and entertained himself by making boats from banana leaves and banana flowers, make-believing they were pirate ships.

It felt good to be back by the coast again, even if it was only for a day. 

I took an exploratory walk, to see what the neighbourhood had to offer, which wasn't a great deal.

I noticed, though, from the moment we landed that everything in Phuket is about three times the price it is in Chiang Mai.

Getting a taxi after midnight, when we landed, cost us 400b (£8), the taxi drivers insisting the journey was 15 minutes when it was actually five! But what can you do when there was no alternative?

The next day, as I searched for food and fruit for snacking for our kids, I again noticed the inflated prices - and no fruit shops in sight!

We were staying close to the airport, so the rest of the island, particularly where it is busier, is likely to be different. 

However, the light at the end of this proverbial tunnel I was walking was the golden 
beach. It was about a 15-minute walk from our hotel and the ocean was a beautiful warm temperature and the sand nice underfoot - not too sticky and no glass or sharp objects to be found.

We went there late in the day, around 5pm, when the sun wasn't as fierce - or so we thought. It was still hot even as we played in the water.

Kobra made friends with an older local boy while Zenchai was busy building castles and moats. Eventually, the boy, who barely spoke English, joined Zenchai and they all played together, digging, running races etc. 

They played until the sun went down and it was time to eat. The beach is lined with restaurants and we didn't know which one to choose. We picked one in the end and the food was nice even if the experience was spoiled by insects dive-bombing our table. 

In the dark, we headed back to the hotel, showered up, packed our bags again in readiness for rising at 4am for our flight and hit the sack. 

Pai: A Slice Of Relaxation

SEVEN hundred and sixty two stomach-churning bends later and I was in Pai, a hippy town three hours north of Chiang Mai.

I'd had my fill of sitting, scrunched up and sweating, at the back of a poorly-ventilated mini-van with a driver who, if I didn't know better, had been hired from Ecuador, where they all drive like they are late for dinner.

I should have known what was ahead when I saw the sick bags conveniently placed in front of every seat. But I survived. The discomfort was all worth it and for £3 I couldn't really complain. 

Pai is set amidst trees and sloping green, lush hills. From the balcony of my hotel room, I could see the beautiful landscape and hear the river flowing. This getaway was my birthday gift from Jamie and the kids - yes, time off. The children cried when I gathered my bags and dropped them off at the bus station. But Jamie had felt bad that almost every year my birthday passes as a non-event, so she wanted to do something special. 

Of course, I'd have liked to celebrate surrounded by my family. But being in Pai alone was not only different, but just what I needed.

I'd considered visiting one of the southern islands instead, but didn't fancy jumping on a jet again so soon after our recent escapade to Kuala Lumpur, Singapore and, briefly, Bangkok. 

Full-time parenting is intense and so, too, is regular airline travel. I wanted/needed some reprieve. Pai hit the spot. It's laidback, has plenty to do (hiking, rafting, yoga, swimming, sightseeing etc), there are dozens of vegetarian/organic restaurants to lounge around in, massages to be had, a nice public pool (60baht/£1.10 entrance) and many nearby attractions.

At night there are street vendors selling tasty food and their handcrafted goods. It feels a little commercial, though in a far less intrusive way than other tourist towns I have visited.

Prices are more than reasonable, especially as I was visiting during the off-season when it's not swarming with visitors. I'd certainly consider coming again to Pai, but with the car sick-prone family (if I can get them here without them suffering on the journey) for a longer stay. The cost of renting is far less than in Chiang Mai.

The place reminds me of a cross between Vilcabamba, where we stayed in southern Ecuador, and Capilla Del Monte, the town outside of Cordoba, Argentina where we'd spent Christmas in 2010.

I didn't have enough time in three days to explore all this place has to offer (which is why I would like to return). The options are seemingly endless - adventure rafting, rock climbing, kayaking, mountain biking, zip line adventure, piranha fishing, elephant trekking, hot springs, waterfalls, Pai canyon, temples, cooking courses, markets, Muay Thai boxing, kung fu, tai chi, permaculture courses etc.

I was here to chill out, recharge my batteries and get a feel for the place or else I would have indulged more. I rented a bike (only 70b/£1.20) and cycled six undulating kilometres out of town to the hot springs for a nice soak, taking in some nice views and dodging elephant dung as I went.

The roads aren't especially busy. Most visitors tend to travel by moped and at certain times of day it can become a little congested, though, by comparison, Chiang Mai feels huge and noisy. 

After three days away, Chiang Mai was my next destination. This time I decided to take the local bus (cheaper but slower and longer). There is only one a day - leaving at noon. I got to the bus station early - and waited...and waited.

It did come, eventually. The bus was crammed. I looked for a seat. There were only a few. As I got closer, I realised someone had been sick there. I chose to give it a miss.

So I was back to square one, the mini-van. I got on the next one, grabbing the last available seat, probably the worst spot possible - right beside the driver. My long legs were squeezed into a tight space, shins pressed against the dashboard and my rucksack on my lap. I couldn't move my aching legs as I'd interefere with the driver changing gear. I held this position for the best part of three hours, desperate to get to Chiang Mai, counting down the kilometres as we travelled.

Oh how relieved I was to see the bus terminal in Chiang Mai and Jamie and the kids parked up, waiting. But like most rough journeys home, you feel like you need another break. 

 

 

Chiang Mai: Back With A Difference

WE are back in Chiang Mai. It feels different. It's still hot, but the sweat doesn't roll off me here continually as it did in Kuala Lumpur.

We have found a place to call home for the next month or perhaps longer. We are still assessing. But it feels more peaceful in our new abode, set away from the often noisy streets.

We don't hear any traffic - only the sounds of insects and creatures in the forest or nearby dogs barking. It's nice to be surrounded by nature. But this comes at a cost. I'm frequently removing spiders and scorpions and various other bugs/insects. But that's life. We got used to that in Brazil, where the critters were tarantulas, bats, rats and monkeys.

Slowly, we are settling in to Thai life again, minus all the pollution that convinced us to leave several months ago. We have a car at our disposal, which allows us much more freedom to explore. Getting around in rickshaws and taxis is fun to begin with, but, in the heat, soon loses its appeal, especially when you have young children.

Chiang Mai isn't so large that getting lost presents a problem. If you have a sense of direction, you can easily get back on track. Kuala Lumpur would have been a nightmare to drive in. I'm finding my way around Chiang Mai quite quickly and easily, though you always have to have your wits about you with so many scooters around.

With our own wheels, we can check out the rich variety of organic produce they have in Chiang Mai. There is a big initiative here to provide pesticide-free goods and our diet has improved substantially. Each day (for about £1 per kilo) I buy Jamie a durian (she's addicted).

We eat in much more. Our garden has jackfruit, mango and banana trees and an organic garden. We have purified water from the tap. The children have space to stretch their legs and play and raise their voices heartily.

Jamie has slowly started her yoga again and I'm happy back at Crossfit Chiang Mai. Each week we try to have a Thai massage (it's painful, but great - and only £11 for two hours!)

We're working on finding outlets for Zenchai and have made contact with several groups in town who are educating their children in a way we'd like to have Zenchai learn about the world and life. We'll see how that goes.

So far, so good. 

 

World Travel: Is Anywhere Cheap Anymore?

THE question is: is there anywhere in the world that is really 'cheap' to live anymore? And, perhaps more importantly, would you want to live there if there is?

People often refer to Asia as very affordable and there are pockets of places where your money goes really far.

In southern India, for instance, we lived quite cheaply. Our hotel apartment (above) was roughly £5 per day and this was in an upscale resort. That's because in India you can bargain for almost everything.

But elsewhere we haven't found the costs to be equally inexpensive. And I think it's important, too, to make the distinction between travelling solo and as a family. If I were travelling by myself, living in hostels and eating out only for one and at McDonalds (which I wouldn't go near except to use the toilets) or the MSG-laden food hawkers, my daily costs would be reduced substantially. But multiply everything by four if you have a family like mine. You can't really stay in dorms when you have children. 

We are now in Kuala Lumpur, which, when compared to London, is relatively cheap, but not when pitted against other Asian cities we have been to (with the exception of Singapore).

We pay £34 a day for a one-bedroom serviced apartment with a makeshift kitchen. In the developed western world that is a great deal. But in Thailand (Chiang Mai) we were paying about £16 per night. You could find even cheaper deals in CM and if you were by yourself or a smaller family unit - a studio apartment rents for about £10 per night. 

Kuala Lumpur, at least, offers an excellent transport system. Almost each day I commute by train and bus for 90 minutes (each way) to attend my Crossfit class in Petaling Jaya. My transport costs are a mere £2!

We're not convinced either whether eating in saves money when you can, for instance, go to an Indian restaurant for masala dosai and feed the family well for £2.50. 

We don't really go to upscale restaurants. The most expensive it gets for us is when we search out organic restaurants, but even then, when compared to the UK, the prices are far from crazy. The most we've paid for a family meal in KL is £12. 

Back in the UK, we spent on average £113 per week on food when we stayed in Brecon (for Christmas) and £139 whilst in Huddersfield, where we ate in most of the time. Compare that with the average of £114 we spent per week mostly eating out in India. 

So keeping costs down really depends where you are. For us, eating in in England was only marginally more expensive than eating out in India, albeit in a fairly touristy part of India. 

In Thailand the street food is cheap, but (unfortunately) laced with MSG and sugar, so we ended up eating in better restaurants and for more. We ate out most of the time, but also bought lots of fruit and coconuts. You'd be surprised how the costs add up. On average we'd spend about £120 per week on food in Thailand. But Malaysia has been off the chart. 

Our shopping bill at supermarkets in KL can be hefty. As an alternative, I've tried local markets, like Pudu, where you can buy all sorts of vegetables (though the fruit selection is disappointing). I filled a shopping bag for about £8 (mostly veg) and a similar shop in England would have set me back at least £20. 

But supermarkets offer organic produce, which is important to us. Most of the fruits and vegetables in the outdoor markets in KL appear to have been imported from countries like China, where they spray crops heavily.

Although I can get a kilo of fresh lychee for £2 and buy T-shirts for £2, too, a cup of camomile tea at Starbucks in a good neighbourhood will set you back £1.50. On average we have spent over £150 per week in KL. 

Prices for the same product can vary also. For instance, fresh coconuts can go for anything from between 75p to £1.50. It's not outrageous, but more expensive than we paid in Thailand and Brazil (although coconuts in Thailand are far superior in taste).

A whole 1kg durian costs around £2 in KL, a 5.5litre water bottle just over £1 and taxis are good value (though be sure to flag down the red or yellow ones and not the blue taxis, which are exectutive. Tip: make sure the meter is running). 

The cost of going out in KL is hit and miss. Some attractions, like the KLCC play park, are free. Others, like Aquaria, cost me £16 for Zenchai and I. In London, at the Aquarium, it's nearly double and in Florida I found attractions for kids to be really pricey. 

We're heading back to Chiang Mai in Thailand next month, though, because renting an apartment there is cheaper and easier than in Kuala Lumpur. We tried really hard, but couldn't find a way to stay in KL affordably. 

As I wrote in a previous blog, renting in KL is made difficult - almost impossible - for those wishing to stay less than 12 months. 

We couldn't find any reasonable houses or condos, fully furnished and in a safe, clean area near a train station (otherwise you really need a car) for less than £400 per month. Realistically, we were looking at shelling out at least £500. But the majority of apartments go for £500 per month upwards and you can get two/three bedroom places for that amount. In nice areas most people are paying closer to £800-£1,000. 

In Thailand we might end up spending around £300-£400 for lodging, but we'd get even more for our money - greater space and perhaps the use of a pool and gym.

But the downside in Chiang Mai is that there is no metro system - getting around town you have to rely on taxis and rickshaws or hire a moped, which isn't what I want to do with young children (a moped would cost about £300 per month). The traffic is thick and the roads not all built for walking down. We spent about £70 on transport during the month we lived in Chiang Mai. Car rentals are about £400 per month. 

There are always the southern islands of Thailand to visit. But we hear from friends based there that costs are inflated also - mostly because of the rise of tourists willing to pay big bucks and the owners holding out until the off-season.

Of course, there are places to go that won't cost much - even for families, but there's a reason for that: either it's incredibly remote or there's something wrong with it, like ultra polluted or crime-infested. Not everyone wants to take their family to a place like that. 

It's interesting, really, because both Jamie and I have in recent weeks reflected more on our time last year in Brazil, which on the whole is a dearer place to live than in most of Asia. But we found in Piracanga, Bahia, an eco-village by the ocean where it was impossible to be sucked in by consumerism and our outgoings were generally low, that the quality of life (sunshine, beach, river, wholefood diet, living more off the land) was much higher. 

We're not saying we want to return to Brazil or, specifically Piracanga, but it's an example of how getting the balance right can be tough and it often depends on the family's needs and wants. We don't want to be somewhere too remote or basic or, for that matter, in the thick of a bustling city. 

We have been travelling now for over two years and, in terms of affordability and taking into account inflation, the cheapest countries we have visited look something like this (cheapest first): 1. Ecuador; 2. India; 3. Thailand; 4. Brazil; 5. Malaysia; 6. Croatia; 7. Argentina; 8. USA;  9. Uruguay; 10. Western Europe.

 

Singapore: Shopping Malls, Skyscrapers And Cultural Diversity

THOUGH I was in Singapore only for four days, I was impressed by what I saw and experienced. 

It is particularly clean. Everything seems to run smoothly and without much of a hint of chaos. It is, like New York, very walkable. The pavements are wide and cars even stop to let you cross the road!

The signposting is clear. It's not so big that you have to rely on public transport to get everywhere. I walked solidly for about eight hours on my first day and covered a large portion of the city.

There is a lot going on - loads of attractions - and, for a city, there are plenty of trees and green spaces. No wonder Singapore is known as 'Garden City'. I noticed government initiatives in many places encouraging the population to make their city more ecologically friendly. 

The modern architecture is pretty spectacular. With the warm, humid climate, tall skyscrapers and waterfront, downtown has a Miami feel to it (without the tackiness), but with a touch of Monte Carlo thrown in and an atmosphere that is, for want of a better word, orderly.

There's a mostly Chinese and Indian culture served by Chinatown and Little India (the best place I found for internet shops). Languages spoken are English, Mandarin, Malay and Tamil. 

Foodwise, you can get almost anything you like. Actually, you can get your hands on everything here. Singapore is shopping mall crazy. They are abundant downtown and all are stunningly large, containing the designer stores. There's a Starbucks on every corner it seems. The economy, it appears, is booming. Singapore is, according to most lists, one of the richest countries in the world.

Although goods are not as cheap as in Thailand, it doesn't cost anywhere near as much to eat out in Singapore as it does in Europe or the US - if you operate prudently. 

For a more authentic feel, you can munch at the many hawker centres where the food markets are. They are everywhere. I also went into the ethnic areas for a more genuine feel of the city and to escape the giant malls. 

Little India has restaurant after restaurant and shops selling goods at discounted prices. There is also a small arab quarter and ample choice for vegetarians/vegans if you look hard enough.

But the Singaporians like their meat. Frogs are something of a delicacy, too. Most nights and especially on weekends, the streets are full of tables and restaurants jammed with customers. TV screens in restaurants show the Premiership football live from England. 

Remnants of the former British Empire are everywhere, not least The Raffles hotel, named after Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, who turned Singapore into a busy port and the city created by Raffles remains practically the same today in layout as it was nearly 200 years ago.

Singapore is a mix of old and new and contrasting cultures. People work hard and, from what I saw, spend hard, too. 

The island (only 604sq km) is densely populated and though everything seems so clean and controlled, Singapore is not without its problems, waste disposal being one of them. Most of it being incarcerated. But the need to find alternative solutions has prompted the urgency to work with the people to improve methods of recycling.

People clearly care about their city although the cost of living here is one of the highest in all of asia (behind Japan). I didn't notice it too much, probably because I declined to shop at all the modern stores. There's definitely a cheaper way to surviving a place like this, though the heftiest costs are for accommodation and schooling, something that is more difficult for most residents to avoid.

 

 

 

 

 

Singapore: Flying Into The Future

CHANGI airport has a glimmering, expansive and futuristic feel to it that almost takes your breath away. So immaculate and space-age like, it's as if the Singaporians have thought of everything.

If there is a ever an airport to be stranded at, especially with kids, Singapore is the one.
Just so happened that I was travelling alone. But there's a play area, family zone and toys and books section, not to mention an entertainment deck and baby-care room.

For adults the list is even longer, from spas and massages to strolling through one of five gardens, taking a plunge in the rooftop swimming pool, TV lounges, business centres and 500 free internet stations.

Singapore is a busy airport with 301,711 flights in 2011 - one  every 100 seconds!

That said, Changi is so big and organised you don't feel as if you can't move and the queues were not excessive when I travelled.

On my journey out of Singapore (to Penang), I was so sweaty walking to the train station from my hotel and getting to the airport in the middle of the day that I needed to take a shower.

Luckily for everyone on my flight, Changi had the facilities. It cost S$8.50 (£4.25), but you get a towel and luxury service. If you wanted - and had the time and budget - you could throw in a massage or spend time in a jacuzzi.

Needless to say that when I arrived  at Changi from Chang Mai (which, comparatively, seemed like another world), I was spoiled for choice as to how to further my journey into the city.

My options were the airport shuttle/limousine ($45-50), car rental, taxi ($18-38), train ($1..40-$2) or bus (under $2). The exchange rate is roughly $2 for every pound.

I opted for the train. And, as I suspected would be the case, it was immaculate, efficient and cheap.

I noticed the penalty signs for smoking ($1,000) and eating or drinking ($500) and wondered whether leaving my fingerprints on the pole I was holding on to would be a violation of one kind or another.

There were even arrows on the floor as you wait to board the train, telling those getting on where to stand and those disembarking (or 'alighting' as they like to say here) where to go.

As I headed out of the airport, though, everything started to go downhill, metaphorically speaking, of course.

Lugging my heavy rucksack on my back and carrying the other over one shoulder, I emerged from the train station nearest my lodging and searched in darkness for my road.

Although it happened to run by the train stop, there was no indication of which way the numbers ran or which direction I should head. I asked a few people, but no-one seemed to know. So I took a wild guess and, in the humidity, lumbered on.

After about 10 minutes and with no hotel in sight, I took a detour to find a taxi. I stood on a busy street corner and flagged down whatever cabs came my way.

Having recently been in India, where taxi drivers will do anything for your business, I was surprised when six taxis stopped and each refused my custom, using excuses like 'I don't know where it is'.

Eventually, one driver did tell me where to go, but, bizarrely, showed no interest in driving me. I walked on another 800m, through a vibrant (mostly Chinese) restaurant area. The pavements were packed with diners, and I passed by durian stalls displaying more of these giant-sized, prickly fruits than you could possibly count.

By the time I arrived at my hotel I was so hot that I feared a local might make a citizen's arrest for me dripping my sweat all over the pavement.

I checked in to my soul-less 'room without a view' and tried taking a shower, but it didn't work (I got it going eventually the next day) and, given the lateness of the hour and my hunger levels, had a quick wash and ventured out to eat.

I settled for a couple of coconuts  (juice and flesh) for an expensive $8 and headed back for a night's rest to see what this sprawling city would bring me in the day time.