Ben Welsher | Writings

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Ben's Londunroamin'

I intended to ask if my geographic romanticism could so easily be put aside as my...er...romantic romanticism. As I read Ian Nairn's words about some favoured piece of architecture that was demolished 35 years ago and that he saw but that I cannot I feel emotionally bound to the past. Bound to 'a better time', 'a happier time', a not now. But then in the next entry in 'Nairn's London' he is describing another building pulled down before he could see it. This building isn't even remembered by a photograph with the pencil engravings and their soft focus lending it all the more mystique and evocation of those better times. Did Nairn feel like a man out of place? That if only he cold go back before the bombs and before the rubble and before the concrete he'd know himself? If so I'd feel a little better. And a little worse. Better to not be the only one and, indeed, I would be in esteemed company. And worse because this debilitating fantasy affe...

Unconscious coupling part 2

The bag feels light, almost weightless as I bustle through the station en route to missing my train. I'll miss my train because I can no longer control the whirlwind, because the tiger I'm riding cannot change its stripes. Missing this train took a minute of ill-preparedness which took a day of muddled thinking which has taken weeks of bi-directional candle-burning. And I won't miss this train because, for now, the tiger loves me and wants me to be happy. It carries me to the ticket barrier and we bound through. It smiles its Cheshire Cat smile at the staff who whisk me past the queue. It settles me in my seat with such silken grace as to make all this seem so easy, so inevitable that a greater romantic than I (and that is no mean feat) would cry 'destiny!' But the tiger just smiles. And if I've manifested away the rough edges of my chosen course and sworn there are no rocks below the lovely smoothness of this water then I have also pressed my wet finger to th...

Tips to keep this place free of ugliness and other sorts of disgrace

Day 165 - Jakarta Jakarta could do with following those tips so helpfully displayed on a roadside sign. Indonesia's capital is a city of 11 million people. Of endless houses broken by mosques, then urban sprawl, then fields and trees. Or if you're flying into it then fields and trees > urban sprawl > houses > mosque> houses > mosque > hou... you get the idea. It is not Paris. It is not Labuan Bajo. Whatever the limitations of the latter it was, to quote, "a home away from home". The grit of Jakarta was a shock to my system but that was exceeded by the shock of being alone again. I was out of the peculiar terrarium of holiday romance and I hated it. A bar seemed the right place for me right now and the Jaya pub would do. It was basically empty with just me and a pair of friends to prop it up. They would occasionally exchange a few words but mostly sat in silence in that way that men do in bars and women don't. The place slowly fills up and a liv...

Unconscious coupling

Day 159 - Labuan Bajo My hangover ensured an uneventful day in Labuan Bajo. Come the evening I'd arranged to meet the usual gang from the gangway and go for dinner down at the waterfront. There was an unexpected addition to the group, Jessie. She said hello, I made a joke about an oxygen tank and she laughed. I liked her immediately. She seemed to have a soft light about her that was a perfect shade of white in the same way I once saw a perfect shade of pink in Sydney. Huts selling fresh fish stood yards from the water's edge. You selected your preferred catch and took it to another hut where someone would grill it for you. We sat at long communal tables and, through some expert manoeuvring, I was opposite Jessie. Lest Thierry get any ideas I loudly reminded him of his success the previous night with Susie, the manager of the bar. Hey all's fair in love and war right? We talked about cats, we talked about babies, or was it cat babies? Doesn't matter, the sound of clic...

Sharks, Dragons and dangerous things

Day 156 - The Flores Sea You can take the ape out of the savanna but you can't take the savanna out of the ape. Our brains still have prey-like reflexes from when we were food for leopards and, as the enormous shape moved at speed in my peripheral vision, I couldn't help but flinch. The animal's mouth opened wider than my whole body and engulfed the bait put out so obligingly for it. This was the second morning of the Komodo tour and I'd almost missed it. It had swiftly become clear that on the tour we would be viewing every sunset...and every sunrise. It has only been 16 days since my last rant about sunrise so I won't re-tread that ground but suffice to say that after a night on a thin mattress sharing a deck with 19 other slightly-washed people I would not be getting up at 5AM. There was something different this morning though. A commotion. We'd already passed the stranded tour boat that had hit a rock a few days previously and we'd seen the video of p...

Who dares wins

Day 150 - Mataram Mataram is a dry beige. The human eye can detect more shades of green than any other colour. I can detect none in this place. The map is unbroken by cafés or bars or communal space. Except for this karaoke joint I've found which is so dire it is a visceral illustration of the dearth of other options. The viscerality is is primarily provided by the people doing karaoke and their selfish intrusion on my reflection. There are little rooms for the purpose (karaoke not reflection) but the walls are no match for the singers. Their vocal incompetence is fired through the solid matter and into my soft tissue like neutrons in a nuclear chain-reaction. I feel my basic cellular structure being ripped apart and I think I'll have developed ear cancer within six months. Also the beer is 100,000 rupiah, or, £4.20 a bottle. The final straw was the lack of WiFi. This was a particular issue since, as of five days previously, my phone was doing a fine impression of a phone tha...

Fun guy

Day enough? - Gili T Bali isn't quite the only island of sin and blasphemy within Indonesia's borders and the fact I was off to another one was entirely coincidental. The Gili Islands are three little specks near Bali (but nearer Lombok). Gili Trawangan is the party island, Gili Meno is quiet and romantic and Gili Air is a mix of both. Eschewing self-inflicted romance or halfway houses I booked my passage to Gili T. Without any motor vehicles to speak of, seriously horsecarts are HGVs here, it was a tonic to Ubud's buzziness. Speaking of tonic if you are having some with gin be cautious as counterfeit spirits have been known to be sold on Gili T. The methanol in them can turn you blind and it is just not worth losing your sight for a drink as unenjoyable as a G&T. Better to stick to natural products I say. As I passed a beach bar I was beckoned over and thought it worth a look. I'd been yearning for some levity since Laos so gave the barman my money. Pedro was a ...

Burning Man Ubud

Day 143 - Ubud Six days in Ubud could be considered excessive for a traveller on a timescale such as mine. I wasn't here to align my chakras in a wellness retreat so time was essence-y. But the traveller grapevine had thrown up a tantalising possibility. Just like the rocket festival in Laos I couldn't pass up the opportunity to experience something actually authentic. In this case the funeral of a local notable. He had been a major and, crucially, quite popular. This popularity ensured it was no simple coffin for him. Oh no, his earthly remains would be deposited in a big cow. Then set on fire. These are good things I was informed by the landlady of the guesthouse where I had been permitted to return. It was good to be back with a friendly crowd where everyone got along well. Well except that was for two lads. One was Ukrainian and the other was, no prizes for guessing, Russian. The chill between them was like a Siberian winter or like the bitterness in a Ukrainian house who...

Sweet child of someone else's

Day 142 - Ubud Bali may be the ideal size for an island. It would take about four hours to drive across it which is not very long but long enough. It is surrounded by the sea, as the better islands tend to be (looking at you, Canvey Island). You'd pass beaches and waterfalls and exotic birds singing in the tropical trees. Bali has a volcano. It is dormant which is the preferable kind in general. It has a smaller island next to it to fight over with it's neighbour, Lombok. If you want globalised tack then you've got Kuta in the south. If you want the opposite then pick a town whose name you can't pronounce and go there instead. I came to this conclusion on the back of a scooter I had hired. On a quiet road of decent quality a scooter is an excellent place to do some thinking. It unshackled me from the timetables and whimsy of others. I'd saddled my horse and pointed it to the horizon, stetson angled against the beating sun. Yes, I am basically saying I'm a cowb...