Faux pas on another planet

Siam shimmered in the heat.

After the normal bureaucratic back and forth at the border I made my way out of the cool frontier hills.

Flanked by the lush green of Thale Ban National Park 

A secret garden south of no man's land

Perlis passed in a procession of sun browned paddy fields. Irrigation channels became quiet tracks to traverse Malaysia's smallest and most northerly state. The capital Kangar slipped by without a sideways glance as I rushed towards my 26th border crossing.

Bicycle blitzkreig

Thai visa in hand I fled Pennang before dawn on the first free ferry to Butterworth. A quick roti chennai later, I gave the bike it's head and whistled north.

The countryside opened out into a patchwork of farms spread across lush riverland.

Trusty Steed

One thing has remained constant during my travels. 

And that most faithful friend is well deserving of an ode

A bicycle born near Bristol

Heard a silent starters pistol

Iran 1st leg: Tabriz

I spent a couple of days ostensibly riding out the weather in Meghri but really immobilised by the prospect of leaving for the unknown of Iran. In my haste to arrive at the border before my visa window elapsed I had done so with a week to spare and I found it surprisingly difficult to leave.

Despite falling ill I felt very affectionate towards Armenia. Apricot jam, excellent inexpensive brandy and sensational doors were now my status quo. A land of harsh mountains, proud of its Christian heritage but perfectly relaxed about all shops staying open late on Sundays; where an overturned cup of coffee can predict whether you would find love. (I would not apparently, so the system checks out.) Even the overwhelmingly high proportion of white vehicles compared to other colors now seemed perfectly normal.

Day trip - disapearıng lakes and a hıdden cıtıes

Together with Celıne, Benoıt, Alkım, Javı and his wife (who had gamely hired bikes) I continued my burgeoning love affair with Cappadocıa by going on an expedition to Derınkuyu to visit it's underground city.

The roads were quiet, the hills hard but rewarding, the sun high but not too hot. In short it was nearly perfect.

Being in such a large group was refreshing and after the bashing my cycling self-regard took [with Fred](http://blackdogbicycling.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/the-bay-of-kotor.html) it was satisfying to be the one out in front.

the landscape was lent an Alice in Wonderland feel by fields of pumpkins which stretched as far as the eye could see.

La Dolce Vita

Staying with Nick and Simona was like stepping into a Rossellini film. I really can't thank them enough for their seemingly inexhaustible hospitality even in the face of a distant relative turning up almost unannounced on their door step and proceeding to borrow money and eat (& drink) them out of house and home.

It's always a little nerve-wracking meeting family for the first time especially when you will be staying with them; what if you don't get on? Simona would later confide over a cigarette that she had shared this concern. Would that this distant relation who was cycling across Europe be a bit straight-laced (no drinking no smoking etc) and had been rather relieved to see a roll-up peeking out from behind my ear as I stepped of the train. Fortunately despite my manifest faults as a house guest we got on famously.

Simona's professional cooking skills and infectious good nature. Nick's wisdom and amazing tales from his time as a freelance photographer in far flung war zones. It all combined a breathtaking Umbrian backdrop to feel utterly intoxicating.

The view across the rolling Umbrian hills from the Patio

Home from home.

"I look upon Switzerland as a sort of inferior Scotland" - Sydney Smith, an English wit from Woodford. (Rare breed indeed)

North Zurich

Switzerland with it's neutrality, polyglot languages, wealth and direct democracy seems to inspire a lackluster antipathy among the British.

Nothing to match the heat of our centuries old squabbling with the French, war won jingoism of common relations with the Germans nor the faded patriarchal contempt for our American and Australian ex colonies. Even the hangover from our 17th Century rivalry with the Dutch has been etymologically preserved in our idioms more boldly. Or have I rambled into double Dutch?

Still I detect a slight derogatory twinge in the average British stereotype of the Swiss.