However, during this stay I also became sentiently aware of something else… the USA is no longer the “Land of Opportunity” rather it’s now the “Land of Opportunists.” Perhaps I wasn’t as conscious of it on prior trips or maybe it is the result of an aggregation of similar experiences of the year… whatever it is, this time I really was aware of it.

Let’s start with my hotel… Room was quoted to cost $227, but once you added up the local taxes and other charges the actually price was more like $260. Why can’t they just say the price s $260 and be done with it? Actually, why don’t they make all prices inclusive of tax instead of tricking you with low prices that end up being 5-10% more expensive at the till?

Next was my service… I took it to a really cool place called the Bicycle Ranch and splashed out on the £199.99 Professional Service. This was to entail total emersion in a solvent bath, full replacement of cabling, etc. When I returned to pick it up, the price was suddenly $249.00. Turns out the tried to charge me for everything that was supposed to be “included”. They saw and opportunity and had to try to pull one over on me. I had to then wait 10 minutes while he manually removed each item. When I got the bike home, I notice that some bits were still dirty. Did they even do the solvent bath?

Next comes the restaurant in the Fairmont called Bourbon Steak. The place is trying to be “uebercool” and another opportunity to fleece us was found. The waiter jabbered about the food for 20 minutes completely overselling everything, the food took an extra 30 minutes to arrive, everything had truffle oil this or truffle oil that and at the end they had the audacity to simply slap a 20% tip on the bill. Isn’t service optional?

Let’s take a moment to talk about food in the US as well. Another opportunity recognised and exploited… everything here is processed to high-hell. Nothing really tastes of anything either, so much for if it looks like food and smells like food… it’s not necessarily food!

Finally comes the airport… I am checking into US Airways when a woman comes up to me and says, “Has anyone told you about the $100 Mandatory Sports Equipment Charge?” Um, no, they didn’t nor did Expedia (a US internet travel agent)… Boom! I am $100 lighter and when I asked if my bicycle would get special treatment as a result of me paying the extra money… “No, we take no responsibility for the handling of your bicycle” This $100 fee happens to be on top of the resounding “No” I received from Expedia when I asked about changing my ticket from London to Manchester. Their website and my receipt both clearly stated that I could change my ticket for $100, but when I wanted to do this I was told that the airlines rules over-rode those of Expedia. Why even bother telling people rules, if they can’t even be relied upon?

It seems that everyone is looking for a piece of the action. I also now understand why the debt crisis is having such a deep impact here. It's because the entire economy functions by parasitically feeding of debt. Take away the access to debt and the whole system starves. I think I’ll call it "Parasitic Capitalism"… an economic system where the success of the system relies on its ability to convince people that the need things they don’t, want things they shouldn’t and that the things they have need to be replaced. America really has perfected this system, but sadly they have destroyed the soul of the country in the process…

Note – there are, of course, exceptions to what I have described above and I have many American friends who I love dearly. However, I firmly believe that the country is on the brink of a terminal cycle of decay. A real shame if it comes to that because it was founded on such noble principles... and outcast religious beliefs...

Today’s entry is about a new and exciting organisation I stumbled across. The International Federation against Normal People (aka IFANP) was established in the late 1980’s in response to the proliferation of boredom throughout societies around the world. The onset of such technological advances such as sitcoms, the Playstation 3, Internet in almost every home and more recently a highly litigious environment where the individual no longer has any responsibility.

The aims of IFANP are simple…

1. Identify behaviours, systems and trends that will result in people becoming predictable, conformist and boring
2. Counteract these activities through the development of anti-boredom tactics through the creation of new hobbies, activities and pastimes
3. Provide support and guidance to those on the edge of becoming boring to enable them to overcome these temptations
4. Create a network of IFANP supporters all over the world to spread the word and make the world a fun and exciting place once more

Since it was founded IFANP has tried various tactics in the battle against boredom. Remember the pogo ball, Hungry Hippos, the Lambda and Kite Surfing? Well, we can thank IFANP for all of these.

The most recent activity that IFANP are attempting to disseminate is called “Urban Rollo-twitching”. I find this particularly fascinating, because it is the first time that improvisation and personal interpretation feature heavily in an IFANP originated activity.

“What is Urban Rollo-twitching?” you may ask. It’s simple. It combines rollerblading in an urban setting with bird watching. Now it’s in the interpretation of “bird-watching” where the magic happens. For some of us, this simply means to appreciate the waterfowl and other Aves that inhabit our cities while rollerblading. Whereas others will interpret this as the covert appreciation of the female form while zipping by on rollerblade. Either way this activity is guaranteed to keep people outdoors and far away from the boredom created by couch-surfing and Grand Theft Auto IV.

The more I find out about IFANP the more it intrigues me. We all have to agree that society is becoming more boring and in turn lazy. It’s great to see that a group of people have taken it upon themselves to fight back.

My journey started in London, where I headed to St Pancreas’s Eurostar Terminal. I had bought a soft bicycle bag to protect the Variado on its journey under the English Channel and across the Brussels. To my surprise the bag fit perfectly in one of the storage areas meaning that I would be able to avoid the £20 bicycle charge that I was expecting.

Three hours later including a second journey on a local train, I was at the hotel and tucking into a scrumpuous spaghetti carbonara together with a 10 strong Dutch continent to get up our glycogen reserves for the long day of cycling ahead. The some final adjustments to my bicycle before heading to bed at midnight to get in a couple of hours sleep ahead of the 4:30 start.

It seems that my head had only hit the pillow when my alarm went. Almost in slow motion I got my gear together and pulled on the lycra shorts. A quick breakfast was had and it was still dark when we rolled out the front door on our way to the shuttle bus that was to take us to Bruges.

An hour and a half later we arrived at the start of the event. Nerves and the cold had already gotten to me (not to mention that I was completely underdressed for the weather in shorts and a short sleeved top), so me and two other had to duck out and find a place to discretely evacuate our bladders. Cut to a storm drain on an abandoned main street… and cut away again quickly.

We headed of around 7:00 in a group for the first stage of the ride consisting of 140km of flat and fast roads. It was the first time that I had ridden properly in a group and I quickly began to understand what it must be like to ride in a Peloton. Imagine 30-40 riders almost wheel on wheel racing down the road at 40kph. It’s amazing with what apparent ease you can ride when drafting. The Variado performed beautifully and I was keeping up with riders who appear much fitter than I and on much more expensive bicycles than the Variado.

The weather was crisp and cold, but dry for the first hours, but this like my energy levels was to quickly change. After the first 3 hours of ridding it began to rain making the roads both slippery and a source of filth that was sprayed everywhere. I was already feeling a bit tired after the second feed-stop around 100kms after stuffing the 10th piece of honey cake and Stroh-waffle into my mouth. Little did I know that the real cycling hadn’t even begun.

The first hill of 17 came at 140kms. Before setting off from London, I had become aware that my gears weren’t shifting properly. Instead of taking it to the bikeshop to be adjusted, which would have cost money, I ignored it. This would be an error in judgement that would quickly become a “how could you be so cheap” moment.
Now what makes the Ronde de Flanders so challenging is the combination of two things. Firstly, it’s the hills. These on their own would be so bad; however, bring on the other element, cobbles. Of the 17 climbs, approximately 12 are cobbled. Now cobbles, in case you’ve never ridden them, turn your bicycle into a jackhammer that vibrates the hell out of your hand and your backside. Going up is challenging and I admit that due to the loss of my lowest 3 gears (thank-you for not getting the gears serviced beforehand) I had to get of the bike and push it up the top half of most of them.

The real problem actually ended up riding downhill on cobbles. Due to the speed and size of cobbles it seemed like the bicycle would shake apart at any moment. It took over a week for the numbness in my hands to go away. I am proud to say that the Variado took the cobble like a champ and appears to have survived the entire ordeal unscathed.

Anyway, to cut a 12 ½ hour epic cycle journey of over 280kms short… I set off at 07:00 and finished at 19:30 in a state of absolute exhaustion. I was covered head to toe in filth and was so tired my heart-rate wouldn’t go above 110bpm. It was an awesome experience, which I am already looking forward to doing again next year. It was good to see that I wasn’t along with 2 of our group of 10 not even finishing and about half almost falling asleep into their dinner.

You may ask, why did I sign-up to such a gruelling event? It’s simple, a good friend asked me, I didn’t do my homework and preparation and I needed to kick-start my training for the Etape. It’s amazing what a sense of achievement you get when you do something that you think is beyond your ability. The experience has left me stronger both mentally and physically.

Ronde de Flanders 2009 – watch out, here I come.

I took my first step to being fit enough to compete by lugging my bike up to first Manchester, where I had some work engagements, and then across to Brighouse, where a good mate and riding companion lives.

Taking a bicycle on the train used to be a nightmare with pre-booking andvarious negotiations required. However, prior to this trip and in advance of a number of upcoming train journey's, I bought a bike bag from Wiggle.co.uk. It was good value for money at £50 and the train staff
didn't say a word about me taking it on the train (however, people everywhere stared as I lugged it around slung over my back. I'm just curious where I'll put it when my bike's not in it as my London flat is tiny!

Now to my cycle... my mate and I did our customary preparations consisting of a carb rich dinner cooked by his lovely wife and accompanies by plenty of wine and we then finshed up by chatting into the wee hours of the night while draining a bottle of Glenmorangie between the two of us. Note to self - the ACDC and Lynyrd Skinnard DVD are a must purchase - they rock!

We set off around 11:00 and for the next 4 1/2 hour we fought wind, hills and traffic. I now understand why my mate is so fit as every cycle tour he does is like a mini-alpine run. The wind was a lovely competitor as it made even some of the downhills a struggle. It was all bad though as at one point we hit 75 kph and my mate managed to get a driver to stop and almost belt him.

The driver had ignore his gesturing to give me space in a corner; however, he did respond to the "wanker" gesticulation and almost punched my mate. He was a small, fat local guy and we suspected the usual "small penis" syndrome.

The next weeks will have me running, getting to the gym and cycling as much as I can. I am even going so far as to lay off alcohol after tomorrow's epic bender. Interesting times lie ahead with my 260 km Ronde de Flonderers on April 5. Let's see how well I can prepare for that!

The trip starts back in Delhi... this time I am a bit older and wiser. I won't be staying at argubly the worst value for money = (0 service + 0 comfort + 0 cleanliness)/ Bloody expensive = the Airport Hotel next to Delhi Airport. Won't make that mistake again, no this time we're staying at the best youth hostel in town next to the Bazaar. Let's see what the airport pick-up is like and then we'll quickly know what to expect.

After a day or so in Delhi, we're headed over to Aggra to see the big and little (yes, Dad) Taj Mahal. A good friend has already warned me of the tourist throng that awaits us, but I still think seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise is something you have to do as a right of passage. I'll have the camera with me, so watch out for some quality shots!

After the Taj, it's off to Jaipur, the city of pink sandstone. The pictures look amazing and there is some serious hiking to be done. I've been told that you can ride elephants while you're there and assuming that I don't end up like those endless YouTube clips, it should be fun.

The second half of the trip leaves the North far behind and leads us to Kerala. After landing in Cochin, we'll make our way by rail, road and houseboat down through the state to Kovalam and the beaches in the South. There we'll have a few days in the sun before flying to Mumbai for a day... so much for finishing the trip relaxed... although hopefully the hotel will provide some buffer from the craziness that is that city.

All in all, 16 days of Indian delight... I've packed my camera, swim suit and plenty of Immodium. What could possibly go wrong? We'll see soon enough as India is always full of surprises...

My advice to you is to take a bit of time to find the activities that make you happy for strange reasons. Because if you aren't doing them already, you'd be a fool to deny yourself that happiness!

I have been getting quite fit over the last months and this has made commuting to work an increasingly quick affair. Add to that my almost animal instincts when it comes to reading traffic and you get a very nimble cyclist. The only problem is that a deer's instinct leads it to be paralysed in headlights and my ability to read traffic is fallible.

This morning I was passing up the inside of a white van (damn white vans and the fact traffic is too narrow to pass on the outside) when the driver suddenly decided he really wanted to pull up and grab a coffee. The problem was that he braked,indicated and turned in simultaineously and when I was right along side him.

What then ensued is a bit of a blur. The van hit me, I flipped up into the air still attached to my bicycle (thanks to those clip in pedals), I smashed the side mirror and kneed the curb when I crashed to the ground.

Initially I was stunned, what happened? I was suprisingly alert and not at all in pain. In line with previous accidents I've had, I did a self check and seemed ok. Well, at least I could move... The van driver stopped and some bystanders gave me a hand.

"Are you ok?" "I'm calling an ambulence" "Don't move"... The bystanders were all very helpful. While lying ther I made sure I informed the driver of his error to make sure I helped prevent him from doing it again and tried to be upbeat. Nothing hurt, so I thought the ambulence was
unnecessary. However, I was asked to wait.

Seems that the main damage was to my Focus Variado, whose Shimano 105 derailer (that'll cost £32 to replace!) was sheared off and other bits scraped. As to myself, kneeing the curb split my right knee open to the bone, definitely needing stitches. My left knee and elbow suffered minor scrapes...

I was glad that I had helmet and gloves on as these probably prevented even more serious injuries. I am definitely adding a high viz vest to my cycling gear and perhaps and air horn.

Well, the paramedics picked me up and took me to the hospital. I had a good chat with them about everything from cycling to "no win, no fee" to how to get girlfiends into cycling. After such candid chat, I thought things from here on out would be quick, but alas as I write this I am well into my second hour of waiting in A&E (Accident & Emergency). Seems that a gapping wound to the knee requiring stitches is a low priority injury in this hospital.

I've had some fun though. I wandered from the A&E into the hospital proper to get some breakfast. I hobbled through to the cafe with my bandage drooping to the point of exposing my wound only to be met with such appalling coffe and expensive food that I abandoned my efforts and hobbled back. Luckily there was a coffee stand with halfway decent coffee and a chocolate croisant on the return journey. The looks on peoples faces seeing my knee were golden and made the increasingly sore knee well worth it.

I forget to mention that the police also took my statement. Seems I was involved in an official traffic incident and someone may get a warning, fine or worse. Also seems that cyclist passing traffic on the inside, irrespective of circumstances and safety, may fall foul of the UK Traffic
Code which insists traffic can only be passed on the right. More likely than not, we'll both be considered at fault and the whole incident will be forgotten in the system.

It'll be interesting to see what happens next. Seems my ribs are now quite sore and the soft flesh above my hip as well.. A cracked rib perhaps? Well, only time will tell... I'll give an update later.

LATER...

Well, here's the verdict. Seems that while flipping in the air, it was my knee that smashed the van's wing mirror. This in turn slashed and peeled back the skin on my knee (eeeeewwwww!) before I hit the ground.

Getting stitched up was quite a laugh actually. First, a very charming nurse asked me to get undressed... that doesn't happen every day. This involved me getting naked and putting on one of those robes that are open to the back and your bum sticks out. Very fashionable...

Next a nice foreign doctor came in to assess the damage. Some blood pressure was taken, chest sounds, etc... Turns out he's a Polish doctor who was disillusioned with the hospital and the UK medical system in general. "Too many people taking the piss..." he said after telling a story about a girl who complained about a sore left shoulder and wanting to get written ill from a job that required her to use her right arm and the fact the busiest days in A&E are always Mondays. I had a good chat with him, which I think led to him taking a bit more care with me.

Wash, inject, wash and sew... before I knew it he'd put 8 stiches in my knee. It's amazing what the human body can take when anaestatised. I took a look when he was done and admired his work. He struggled a bit getting the bandage to stick on my hairy legs and ended up having to shave a bit to get flat skin. It was then that he shared with me a little secret, namely that he sometime shaves rude or unpleasant patients who don't need to be for the hell of it as revenge...

As part of the final evaluation, he took a look whether my ribs were materially injured. To do this he basically pressed down quite hard on my ribs... problem was he managed to hit exactly the spot that hurt. After a big jump and yelp, I couldn't help laughing. This not only dispelled my pain, but of all the things... he said there weren't any cracks or brakes and, yes, that was going to be very sore in the morning...

Well, thus ends my saga of crashing my bike. I am now at home for the afternoon to rest and recover.

Lessons learned:

- Overtaking on the inside on a bicycle is technically illegal
- Always relax when you crash and try to roll, it'll hurt less that way
- Always wear safety gear, especially a helmet, and high visibility clothing
- Cycling in London can be dangerous
- A&E sucks... always pack a good book in case you injure yourself and have to wait hours in A&E to get treated
- Always be nice to people, it'll ensure they don't mess things up on purpose.

I love you bro!

Frankfurt and I have a long history. It was my gateway into Germany as a boy of 16 when I first moved across from the USA as an exchange student. Over the years I have made numerous visits, but the last one was almost 6 years ago. So when I had the chance to do a bit of reconnaissance of the German market for work, I jumped at the chance. I have a friend who recently moved to Frankfurt for work, so in my usual style, I combined work with play to make a weekend of it.

Two of my uncle's (well, they're actually my second cousins) live in Frankfurt as well as another good friend of mine, so Friday night was designated "reunion night" complete with family and friends. The venue was "Zum Gemalten Haus", a very famous and well-known ebbelwoi (a.k.a cider) stube in Sachsenhausen. They serve cider in large 3 litre earthenware jugs accompanied by even larger plates of boiled meat. The haspel (boiled pork knuckle) wasn't anything special and actually gave me a temporary bout of digestive meat overload syndrome, but the ebbelwoi, Handkaese mit Music (a fermented cheese served with onions and buttered bread) and Rote Groetze (fruits of the forest compote with vanilla sauce) more than compensated. A few more people joined us including another mate from London and we had a whale of a time. In the usual style, my one uncle rounded up the meal by berating me for crimes against society (well, not really just for being disorganised in his eyes for using email to communicate). He's always done that and it was good to see that some things never change.

Well, after we left there we went to another local neighbourhood bar where we coined a new phrase "something-bedurftig", which means that something has something else necessary (e.g. Trinkbeduerftig means needing to get your drink on), before catching a taxi with some randoms we picked up (one of which happens to work for the same company as my mate!) and headed to a club called "King Kamehameha". This is a very cool club with a pool (very dangerous). Well, we partied it up to 3:30am at which point the lights went on and we were forced to go home. Enroute we managed to find the only open Doner Kebab place and shut it down at 4am. This did include my mate ruining a perfectly good doner with too many chilli flakes that surprisingly didn't seem to haunt him the next morning. Stomach of steel, I think!

We finally made it home around 4:30am where I was forced to engage in some seriously challenging mechanical feats which resulted in me sleeping on an uninflated air mattress on the floor. My mate had already bagged the couch and was snoring away… ah, bless…

Saturday was a late start (11:30). My one mate had lost his voice, my cough was getting persistently worse and we realised that getting changed in my mate's living room meant that we were on display for all the morning walkers and joggers for the world to see. We watched a 30 Rock and Flight of the Commodores omni-bus and then headed out for a bit of city-seeing. First place we went was the local brothel where you can stand between a woman’s legs and get your picture taken (see photo). With heart's racing from seeing a brothel from the outside (we'll all strapping young lads, thank-you!), we wandered around town before heading home to get ready
for the evening's activities, a sub-25's house party at my other mate's flat.

Now you know you are getting old when people comment about being half your age. Luckily, everyone was of legal age so this couldn't happen to me, but it did to one of the other "older" guys there. Shock-horror! We then proceeded to drink copious amounts of a strong beer (7.5%) which was the German equivalent of Special Brew. However, without losing our dignity, we managed to drink the youngin's under the table, make up lyrics to every song under the moon and last until 4am again. We even managed to make a quick stop in BB's (a very late night bar) which was full of drunken tuxedos and ball dresses.

It was another late start on Sunday, but this time we did manage to get out for breakfast. We went to Wegners, a wickedly trendly cafe. This allowed us to round out our visit eating Strammer Max and River Shrimp with mash.

It was great to see how our mate is getting on in Frankfurt. Between his stunning riverside apartment in the Deutschherrenufer area, great bars/clubs/cafes/restarants, a killer skyline and some really nice people, we think he's got a pretty good thing going. It wasn't my first trip to Franfurt and hopefully it won't be too long until I get back there again.

Frankfurt is definitely Besuchbedurftig!

These are the first in a series entitled "What to do with the time we're given?"

A ex-colleague of mine with whom I was good friends with at the time, who then became a recruiter and found me my current job and with whom I have kept in touch got married last weekend. I received the invitation a couple months ago to attend both the ceremony and the evening reception as well as the Stag Doo, which was to be held in Edinburgh.

Well, for reasons that I'd rather not get into I decided to skip the ceremony and only go to the evening reception as that's when you have the dinner, speaches and dancing. Or so I thought...

As I am training for next year's Etape, the Tour de France stage that gets opening to the public, I decided that it would be good training to cycle up to my home for the night, the Biscester Cherwell Valley Travel Lodge just off the M40. Of course, because I was on my bicycle I wouldn't be able to cycle the M40 and instead cycled up the A41.

Before I set off I carefully packed everything into my rucksack. Suit (folded carefully), tie (folded carefully), shirt (folded carefully) and underwear (folded haphazardly) all went into a spacebag and then joined my toilettries, shoes, socks and cycling spares. Three and a half hours later (average speed of 30kph!) and I arrived at my destination.

I purposely didn't eat anything when I arrived because I didn't want to spoil my appetite. My invite said that the reception started at 7pm and as it was only 5pm, I killed some time by slowly getting showered, ironing my shirt and watching some television. Some other friends of mine who were also just attending the reception picked me up at 6:30pm and we made it to the venue at shortly after 7.

Now this is where a cultural paradigm came into effect. The bride and groom were both there looking stunning and working the room. There was an open bar and people were milling about in a pre-dinner manner. However, many of the people there weren't really dressed the way I would expect when attending a wedding dinner. Some even were wearing jean! This is when I realised that something had gone terribly wrong...

Turns out that in the UK, it's the ceremony invite that includes the dinner and not the reception. The reception is for the second class citizens that you didn't want to spend money on for dinner, but still want to get gifts off of. As to food, there were a few scraps to be had. I gorged myself on three plates of cheese, crackers, celery sticks and pate... shame I'd missed out on my seat at the dinner table that I would easily have been able to attend timewise.

With my metabolism racing, before I knew it I had consumed 10 pints which had no real effect other than to make me want to dance. Together with my mate's Northern Irish wife, I ended up tearing up the dancefloor and sweating up a storm for the next 3 hours. Very classy indeed!

So, the lesson of the day is that the English generally do things differently than the rest of the world, so if you are doing something for the first time in England, it is well worth getting details of exactly what will happen and is expected of you. Otherwise, you might cycle 100kms, miss dinner and then have the groom ask you why you're so dressed up. Embarassing, disappointing and hilarious all at the same time.

Whereas I though India was all about inflections and finding peace, it actually ended up being a place to charge my batteries, be awe struck by the interaction of Buddhism and the Ladakhi people and to realise that I need to get on with my life in a serious way. But let's look at each one briefly in isolation.

Charging my batteries - Now the last 12 months of my life have been a roller coaster. From self image issues to family concerns to other stuff, I have been through it all. I realised in Indi that it had been several years since the last time that I was on holiday for two full weeks. I had been so focused on travelling the way that other people wanted to, that I forgot what I love about travelling most, it's different from normal life. What I mean by that is that I live quite a priveldged life. I drink when I want to (sometime even expensive foreign beers, yum!), my flat is clean and modern (a little bit characterless at the moment) and I live in one of the most modern and cosmopolitan cities in the world. When I go on holiday, I want something different. During my India trip, I slept on dirt floors, didn't wash properly for a week while trekking, slept in a hotel room with a ceiling covered with mold, ate the oddest things and was among a people who could tell that I didn't belong there from a mile away. All of these things would probably have bothered me in London, but on holiday it was all part of the adventure. This different charged my batteries alongside the absolutely spectacular beauty of the place.

Awestruck by the interaction of Buddhism and the Ladakhi people - The Ladakhi people are a Buddhist mountain people that form part of the Tibetan culture. Under the rules of Buddhism (which is a life philosophy and not a religion), you are not to want more than you need and therefore you end up living in harmony with your surroundings. Well, the Ladakhi people discovered this balanced state about 500 years ago and haven't changed very much since. Most of their lives consist of planting, tending and harvesting crops like barley by hand together with herding livestock for six months of the year and then spending the other 6 months doing nothing but socialising, drinking chang (homemade barley beer) and surviving the winter. It blew me away to see this culture in statis.

That was until Westerners decided that they wanted to enjoy the beauty of the mountains and flocked there to go trekking. I now hear that up to 30,000 people trek the Markha Valley (the main valley for trekking) and have reeked havoc on the place. As most trekkers are accompanies by horses to carry all of the gear and food, I have dubbed the trail the "Marka Valley Trekking Superhighway of Manure". There is so much manure on the trail that you can't drink the water from the rivers, but if you ever get lost in the dark, all you have to do is follow the smell. Not only are we causing serious environmental degradation, we have also introduced some of our materialistic necessities. For instance, at one home I stayed at, they had no running water, a car battery charged by solar panels powering the lights, they slept in their clothes and washed their clothes in the same stream they drank from, but the had satellite TV! We in the West have a lot to answer for and I don't think the Ladakhi culture will ever be the same.

Realising that I need to get on with my life in a serious way - I am now 31 and have a list of things that I want to do in my life that is so long that I haven't even written it yet. This is directly linked to what I realised, I used to make lists of things to do, but then got so frustrated that I wasn't doing any of them that I stopped. I didn't do many of the things on my list for many reasons, most of them to do with my inane ability to procrastinate, but for whatever reason I am starting to write lists again. It is amazing what you achieve when you put your mind to it. Last weekend, I was invited to a friends wedding in Biscester, about 60 miles from London. What did I do, I cycled there. Why? Because I thought I could and I did. This philosphy is also creeping back into my professional life. I spent so much time waiting for other people to tell me what I should be doing that to a certain extent I lost the motivation and creativeness that makes me me. Since India, I seem to have this back and can already see the positive benefits.

So I went to India thinking that it would change my life. It didn't... because we are who we are and can't fundamentally change. We are prisoners of our own limitations. But what India did do is change my life perspective. This means that I now have a perspective that allows me to make the most of what I can do rather than be limited by what I can't. It might sound a bit strange but its working for me. I just hope next time I don't have to spend 8 days trekking only with a guide and a horseman who both choose not to speak to me and prefer to talk to each other and our evening hosts in Ladakhi creating a bizarre sensation of isolation in me, to maintain this perspective...

We didn't keep in touch, but she happened to be singing at an event I attended in Germany last weekend and I thought I’d say “Hello”. Knowing I hadn't kept in touch and that she wouldn't have expected me to be there, I tried on subtle means to get her attention. You know what I mean, small waves to get their attention, mouthing "hey, how are you", etc. Of course, it turned out that initially she thought I was some freak fan (she has quite a few of those) and indeed didn’t recognise me. Luckily, I was able to recognise a friend of hers who had heard about the nice family she’d spent Christmas with and ended up explaining who I was better than I did. To her credit, at the time she had only seen me in a suit and 10kgs heavier, whereas now I was in t-shirt and jean minus those 10kgs.

Apologies for the digression, but a bit of background is necessary to demonstrate that Guru are not self-proclaimed nor do the fall into your lap. It was only after sitting for couple of hours with the opera singer and a friend of hers that I came to the realisation that my latest Guru happens to be a 26-year old Buddhist who's sum of life experiences makes for very sensible advice giving. For whatever reason and irrespective of circumstance, she spouts forth something that makes you stop, reflect and re-evaluate. She doesn't actually give you any answers, just food for thought that enables you to reach a level of clarity that you didn't have before.

I have been lucky enough to have several Gurus in my life over the years. They have helped me see thing in ways that helped me to get more out of life's experiences. If you don't have at least on Guru in your life, I highly recommend you open your mind to finding one. It’ll allow you to look at yourself from the outside and believe me the view is enlightening, if not at times scary.

However, this entry is dedicated to my latest Guru.

“May you have as much clarity in you own life (and your relationships) as you help people others try to find in their own.”

On the road to my own enlightenment, bring on India!

It's interesting how in a city full of people you can be lonely. People are all around you, but they neither notice nor register your presence. All it would take to break the loneliness is a comment or awknowlegement of your existence. A smile, bump or gaze would be sufficient to make you feel that the veil of invisibility has been lifted.

It's a strange sensation to go from warmth to coldness within the span of moments. This is my life at present, a pendulum of emotion and sensation. I am no longer aware of how I should feel or even how I expect myself to feel.

It's like living in a fairytale where purpose has been lost and replaced with an uncertainty. Why am I here and what expectations do I apply to my interactions. I work, socialise, train, toil, think, ponder and expect, but what for?

This is among the many questions I am to answer during my trekking in India. Hours of wandering up mountains at high altitude will give me a clarity that is rarely reproduced in the urban jungle of London. I look forward to achieving emotional enlightenment.