TRAVELISTA

As I get older, travel becomes more of a chore. I don't enjoy long-haul flights, and after a week or so away I usually want to come home. Which kind of puts the mockers on Australia. Airports are such a bore. Security, luggage restrictions, waiting around .... and that's before you've even got on the plane. Unless you can get where you're going on a decent carrier, it's cattle class all the way. I always manage to get either a screaming baby right behind, or a big fat bloke right in front who puts his seat back as soon as he sits down, allowing me about six inches of space between my face and the back of his seat. Hardly room to open out my copy of How to Spend It. A sinus condition means that I need to get half a dozen Nurofen down me two hours before landing or else I get off the plane looking like Munck's "The Scream". For the same reason I do not drink alcohol while flying, and the food is usually inedible, if you get any at all.

Arrivals lounge

If you don't fly, and don't own a car, your options are considerably reduced. I am developing an expensive habit of pranging hire cars, and really only the train is a suitable and safe mode of perambulation. For me and everyone else. Luckily, from Brussels you can take a train and be in London, Paris, Amsterdam or Cologne within a couple of hours.

The best thing about Brussels

Then there's the accommodation. I need a degree of comfort these days, my own bathroom and to be able to lock my door and have some me-time. I recently experimented with one of the so-called four-star campsites in France, but frankly, no. The walls were thin, the nights were cold, and the caravans (or "mobil'omes" as the French inexplicably call them, as they are up on bricks and far from mobile) were much too close together. McChe summed it up: "It's a plastic hoose, the noo!". Four stars nothing.

Trailer park trash

I'm afraid I'm getting to the stage in my life when only a four or five star hotel will do, whatever the cost. I don't need a swimming pool - unless I have exclusive use of it - and I'm not bothered about a spa or a fitness centre, but I do require a spacious bathroom, a good breakfast buffet, air conditioning and room to swing a cat.

Swinging cat

Then there are the destinations. I have seen most of Europe. I have seen the East and West coasts of the USA, Las Vegas and New Mexico, and that will probably see me through to the end of my days. Do I need to see Missouri? I don't think so. I have many relatives in Australia but am put off by the distance and the fact that of the ten most deadly species of animal on the planet, nine of them live in Australia (my family not included). My cousin Bonzer should know, he recently got bitten on the foot by an Eastern brown snake and nearly died. Luckily there was a kangaroo nearby who understood English and fetched an ambulance.

Don't just stand there Skip!

I don't enjoy great heat, great humidity or mosquitoes, who, perversely, love me. I have a delicate Hibernian complexion and burn in the sun. I did a couple of stints in West Africa with Harold, and I would rather stick hatpins in my eyes than return there. I have a soft spot for North Africa - Morocco, particularly - and may well consider a winter break in a riad. You can keep the rest of the Arab world, including Dubai, which looks like Las Vegas with minarets. A large part of the planet is taken up by Russia, which does not grab me in the least. India is not worth the trouble either - full of flies and disease and poverty, and you can get the music, culture and food by visiting Leicester or Birmingham, or watching an episode of EastEnders.

Birmingham, home of the balti

Which leaves the Far East. Now there's somewhere I wouldn't mind visiting, if I could withstand the long-haul flight. Not Japan -- I must agree with a friend of mine who once said watching a Japanese film was like watching people from Mars. But China fascinates me. Echoes of decadent Shanghai in the 1920's, the Tiger Lilies in their cheong-sams, and the food is to die for. I could eat my way round Hong Kong. Moving south, Thailand, Cambodia and particularly Vietnam are even more tempting.


I grew up with the Vietnam War. The names Da Nang, Hue, Saigon, Khe Sanh, My Lai, Ho Chi Minh, Marshal Ky, Le Duc Tho, and General Giap were tripping off my tongue by age 15. My parents were still banging on about the Second World War which had been over for 25 years, but this was my generation's war, the first rock 'n' roll war. Helicopters, jungles, napalm, Grosvenor Square 1969 - why the hell were we Brits protesting? We weren't even there. I remember watching on telly the last helicopter picking somebody off the roof of the US Embassy in Saigon hours before the Viet Cong rolled victoriously into the city. At 18 I could have passed an A-level on the Vietnam War. In the aftermath I lapped up every book and film about it: William Shawcross's "Sideshow", Michael Herr's "Despatches", "Apocalypse Now", "The Deer Hunter", "Full Metal Jacket", "Band of Brothers", you name it, I couldn't get enough of 'Nam.




Later, in Paris. I discovered the delights of Vietnamese cuisine and learnt about the pre-war history of the country, Dien Bien Phu and all that. Other wars came and went: the Falklands, Lebanon, Bosnia, Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq .... but none of them had the sheer rock 'n' rollness of Vietnam. Later, I heard Vietnam had abandoned a centralized economy and was thriving again, even opening up to tourism. I have been looking at photographs and have been seduced by the beauty of the place. It's like watching a derelict garden come back to life. If I have to sit on a plane for 14 hours, a boat trip on Ha Long Bay could make me feel better quite quickly.