It also smells disgusting.

Hakone Park first sprung up as series of volcanic eruptions around 3000 years ago. Today, it consists of triangular hills and deep blue lakes, wrapped in scarves of clouds. On the proverbial clear day, Hakone provides dazzling views of Mt Fuji, yet I had already gathered that today wasn’t going to be one of those days.

We took a cable car from Sōunzan, plunging into a grey vat of cloud before reaching the half-way point at Ōwakudani. By the look of the signposts, well-maintained paths and regular troops of tourists, I had low hopes of finding anything spectacular. Luckily, travel has the habit of proving me wrong – and this time it did it with fountains of smoke.

These hissing pits reach deep into the mountainside and leap high into the air. Their sulphuric properties turn eggshells black – and fill the air with a putrid, rotting stench. Still, if both appetite and wallet remain undeterred, you’ll find plenty of savvy locals selling black eggs by the bagful. Even Hello Kitty does her bit to help the black egg trade.

Perhaps to my relief, given all the noxious fumes floating around, black eggs taste exactly the same as the dull-coloured variety. Still, a smoking sulphur jet does overshadow a saucepan on the stove…

Tigers - Will You See One?

“We’ve been here all week,” say the first couple we meet in Sawai Madhopur, when we ask the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“Yesterday, we saw some tracks,” adds a woman who travelled here after an intensive yoga course.

The safari guide shrugs. “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Tigers. In this dusty, two-street town in Rajasthan, it’s slightly embarrassing to see so many people focused on one big cat. Especially when you’re one of them. Yet with only 4000 tigers left alive (across the whole world, not just in India,) tiger-fever is easier to understand.
Tigers decorate the safari jeeps, their pictures cover the hotel walls. They’re almost all you’ll find in the guidebooks and they dominate conversations between locals and tourists alike.

Tigers, tigers, tigers. Have you seen one? Do you think you will?

The Road to Ranthambore

Sawai Madhopur obsesses over tigers because it sits on the edge of the Ranthambore National Park, a key part of the initial Project Tiger conservation programme. Sadly, over the years it has become ensnared in its own poaching controversies, but it remains one of the best places in Rajasthan to spot a tiger. Safaris leave twice a day, once in the morning and then again at dusk, and the number of vehicles entering the park is strictly limited.

Yet as the safari guide rightly pointed out, “Nothing is guaranteed.”

Despite the tourist board rhetoric, many people do spend a week here without seeing a tiger. A colleague, Wild Junket, contacted me on twitter recently to ask whether or not it was even worth the trip.

I didn’t have as many words at my disposal then as I do now, but my answer was… ”Yes.”

On a Tiger Safari

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Tigers star in the line-up, tigers get all the glory, but… the truth is that Ranthambore bursts with wildlife, with velvet-purple lakes and monkeys swinging through sunset. Owls hoot softly from the trees and wild deer bolt through the long and golden grass. Old, abandoned forts cast shadows over the valley below…

If tigers had never existed (and at the rate we’re going, they soon won’t), then I strongly believe that people would still travel to see this park.

Ranthambore is beautiful. Its twisted trees, crisp dried landscape and its timeless feel deserve a visit. If you manage to see the queen of the jungle, that’s just the crowning glory.

As for me? Did my dream of tigers come true? You’ll have to read this article to find out.

Happy hunting.

Ranthambore...

Japan has no shortage of onsen, natural hot springs where people dip in and out of skin-scalding pools in order to soak, scrub and just relax and say ahhhhh. It’s a tradition that has become a widespread ritual, with both five star hotels and backpacker hostels offering indoor versions of a stingingly hot bath. 

Yet in Jigokudani Yaenkoen, macaque monkeys got there first.

In a steep, leafy corner of the Joshin-Etsu Kogen National Park, around 200 monkeys prance, preen and groom before dipping into the steaming onsen themselves.

Some are sage and relaxed, clearly used to the process…

For others, frightened about diving into the deep end, they look (if you’ll forgive me) a little wet around the ears…

There are those who clearly command authority…

Those who hide from the spotlight…

And those who just want to have fun…

See more travel photos at Delicious Baby’s Photo Friday

Outside Sawai Madhopur

Sawai Madhopur is a small town on the edge of Ranthambore National Park in Rajasthan, a base for tiger safaris.

Both in and outside the park, however, monkeys roam freely. They usually skit about, run, fight and try to steal leftover food but I couldn’t make up my mind about this pair.

What do you think? Had they fallen out? Were they keeping guard? Something else?

I’m playing with experimenting with technology today at Inside the Travel Lab. So here’s a cool photo from the island of Miya Jima (Shrine Island) in Japan to keep you entertained while I meddle with connections to Inside the Travel Lab’s Facebook Page.

Back soon…

At the start of the storm...

Rain changes the view of a landscape as much as it changes our behaviour. Taking photos in the rain is a miserable experience, accompanied by nagging concerns about camera damage, and so most photos show places radiating with sunshine.

For a different perspective, here are a few snatched shots from Thailand during the monsoon.

Villages North of Chiang Mai

Trekking North of Chiang Mai

Empty Temples in the Rain

Monsoons don’t last forever, though…

Koh Tao - With Sunshine

Across Japan, amidst the crowds or within the privacy of solitude, people read their fortunes and say their prayers. Depending on whether they like what they read, they tie the paper in neat knots outside the temple.

Debbie over at DeliciousBaby inspired me to join this Photo Friday – so I thought that this picture was particularly appropriate:

But I suppose the question is – what would you wish for?

So begins Jay McInerney’s Ransom – a thriller set in and around 1970s Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan. Although the title may lead you to expect some sort of kidnapping scenario, Ransom in this case refers to the name of the central character – and a more complex interpretation of lost identity, negotiations and the price of freedom and atonement.

 As a thriller, I enjoyed this book almost until its conclusion, however as a travelogue I loved it all the way through.

McInerney brings to life the streets of Japan as he covers the intricate traditions of the Geisha, collaborative business etiquette, Kyoto’s temples, the principles of martial arts and the blaring reality of screechingly-loud television. He then turns the tables on the expats by exploring and gently mocking their reasons for being there.

If you want to get a taste of Japan – or relive your time there – then I would highly recommend this book.

By the way, if you do decide to buy this book through the link above then I will receive (an incredibly small) commission. At the moment that will go back into covering the costs of this website but if I ever hit the big time by doing this then I’ll be sure to let you know.

Thanks to Mary and Sean for the question about visiting Pandas. Yes, I wandered through China a few years back – inspired by the book Wild Swans and driven to see Tiananmen Square, the Great Wall, the Terracotta Soldiers, the Forbidden Palace and then… I’d better stop myself there. You wanted to know about pandas, after all.

About Pandas

Apart from being the cover girl for WWF, pandas are among the most threatened species on earth with only around 2000 left.

That’s 2000 altogether, across the whole world. I know people with more than 2000 friends on facebook.

Pandas only eat bamboo and (rarely) attack humans – two reasons that may explain both why they are adored – and why they are endangered.

Seeing Pandas


Given how scarce pandas are, it’s not surprising that you won’t find much of a choice if you want to see them. I went to the Chengdu Panda Reserve, deep in the Sichuan Province. The Chengdu reserve describes itself as a “Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding”, which seems to translate into part zoo, part conservation area, part wilderness, and part science lab.

You’ll see plenty of red pandas and golden monkeys in the forest paths that meander around the main building. You may also see infant pandas in the labs, along with posters and presentations on panda breeding.

But will you see panda bears? When I visited, I saw several elderly pandas chomping on bamboo while their cartoon-like grandchildren tumbled around the floor.

Hang on a sec, is travelling to see pandas such a good idea anyway?

Like most things, it depends. Conservation groups and governments recognise the value of an industry where an animal is worth more alive than dead. Successful eco-tourism forms a powerful bargaining chip when convincing local communities to conserve habitats and halt poaching. Some groups, such as WWF, even advertise approved tours.

Travel considerately, treat animals and habitats with respect – and enjoy!

Hope that helped to answer your question. It’s been a few years since I was in China but I’d love to hear about what the place is like now. Drop a link below after you get back and tell us all about it.

If you’re interested in catching other endangered species in the non-poaching sense then try this article from Bootsnall.

Panda Photos – from Chi King. I’m afraid my photos are locked away in storage somewhere…

UPDATE: Travel China Guide tell me that Pandas are indeed still at Chengdu – and that you can visit them through one of their Chengdu Tours.

As the sleek shinkansen train slid into Hiroshima station, I admit I felt nervous. The weight of the name infused my muscles, each of my movements becoming that bit slower, that bit heavier, that bit more apprehensive.

In my mind, grey images of flattened buildings and emaciated children reappeared, alongside textbook photos of billowing mushroom clouds. Sixty-four years have passed since the Enola Gay dropped its bombshell in 1945: 80 000 dead in a single day, 120 000 to follow through injury and disease. Yet for all the studies and reports, I was still unprepared for what I saw.

A sunny, lively, normal city.

Trams bustled along the streets and giggling schoolchildren in navy uniforms followed me around, falling quiet before summoning the courage to practice their English.

“Excuse me, mister. Where you from? Your first Japan visit?”

Shop fronts were clean, commuters strode along the pavements and Hello Kitty charms swayed from mobile phones. Decades have passed after all, and to the locals “Hiroshima” means “home”, rather than “history lesson.”

I was still unprepared for what I saw. A sunny, lively, normal city.

Not that the city has forgotten. The twisted remains of the Industrial Promotion Hall, now renamed the A-bomb Dome, form a cobweb on the city’s landscape. Staring at the ruined building, its curved metal girders silhouetted against the sky, I’m shocked to catch myself thinking that it doesn’t look that bad. Perhaps today’s TV and internet reporting and the visceral scenes from Saving Private Ryan or Black Hawk Down have desensitized me.

Then I see the photograph that shows that this was the only building left standing after the blast.

Hiroshima has transformed the rest of the decimated ground into a modern, thriving metropolis, sparing only a central area for the Peace Memorial Park and Museum. Both are airy, clinical affairs that commemorate the dead and catalogue the damage, but among the ration books and military uniforms, I found a provocative section that discussed “the causes of war.” In particular, it invited Japan to question how its own actions may have contributed to that fateful 8:15 explosion. This unexpected question still lingers with me today.

Outside, plenty of answers and opinions decorate the Children’s Memorial, scribbled in rainbow-coloured crayons from classrooms across the globe. The statue symbolizes the story of Sadako, a child with radiation sickness who hoped that she could avoid death by folding 1000 paper cranes. She created 664.

Today, paper cranes cascade in interlocking formations under the protection of Perspex casing. Unguarded crane garlands hang outside the memorial and plastic Hello Kitty cranes dangle from mobile phones. There’s more than one way to remember.

Both Hiroshima and Tokyo have Peace Flames that promise to burn until the world abolishes nuclear weapons. To my surprise, instead of a confrontation with horror and revenge, a visit to Hiroshima teaches hope. Not only through the explicit messages at the memorials but also, perhaps more so, through the city itself. The visible proof that life and the human spirit can recover.

As I headed back towards the train station, another cluster of schoolchildren circled around. With bright eyes and concentrated effort, their ringleader asked, “Excuse me, mister. Where you from? Do you like Hiroshima?”

Now that I’ve seen it, “Yes. Do you?”

A brief look of confusion, a glance back at the clipboard, then a smile. “Yes I like Hiroshima very much. I live here. Is my home.”