Indo Ghetto - Crap Elvis in Bali

As you can tell by the photos below, it's Xmas Day. OK, so there's no pine trees, turkey, tinsel, Santa, bad socks, dodgy jumpers, or The Sound of Music on tv, but trust me, this is Xmas Day Bali style.



Beautiful waves Serangan style. About to be ruined by some ugly surf style.


Thinking about it.


Sod it. It's Xmas.

Nobody was Kung Fu fighting: Crap Elvis in Hong Kong

OK, just squeezing some free net access in at HK airport so it's another slap and dash photo post.
Just about to head to Bali for a month of surfing, writing, and maybe even a little rehearsing for the Parkes Elvis Festival (Australia) performance. Maybe even update the wordy bits on the blog......or maybe not.....this body isn't going to massage itself!






World's Biggest Outdoor Sitting Buddha (the guy at the top, not the bottom, of the photo)



I know...you've seen one rubbish Elvis-suit wearer poledancing in a cable car, you've seen 'em all.


Blending in like a local.


The regulars on the train to "The Peak" were obviously used to how steep it is.


At "The Peak." Like most tourist lookouts, you have to pay for the telescope. I have since found that by simply standing a lot closer to the thing you are trying to view, you get the same effect.


Hong Kong icon. And the Star ferry.


This is when I realised our hotel wasn't the classiest.

Love Mao Tender: Crap Elvis in China

The Great Wall of China (and the Great Tool of Australia)


In a wall-naming vote, "The Not Too Shabby Wall of China." only just lost out.


It kept the Mongolians out for hundreds of years. It kept a $30 Elvis suit out for about 10 minutes.



Made a silly mistake when I ordered the Birds Nest Stadium instead of the birds nest soup. Could be doing the dishes for a few days to pay that bill off.



Gripped by Olympic Fever. Not quite as nasty as Bird Flu or SARS.
Demonsrating the Breaststroke outside "The Water Cube." It's moves like this that made Phelps what he is today.


The plan was if I stood really still, no-one would notice. Later police questioning suggests otherwise.


Mao portrait overlooking Tianneman Square.


I'm collecting dead leaders. With dead Lenin already off the list in Moscow, it was time to add dead Mao. Only dead since 1976 so the smell wasn't as bad. Here I am in front of his mausoleum (Mao-soleum?). Full military uniform allowed inside. Wig and glasses denied.


In forbidden clothes in the Forbidden City.


Maybe they could protect the railings that protect the relics, by putting some more relics in front of the railings.


How many times must I say this...

Genghis Presley: Crap Elvis in Mongolia

No time to talk you through these yet. Basically though they're all from the 3 days spent in Mongolia. One day in Ulaan Bataar, and 2 in the middle of absolutely nowhere. They include photos with nomads we met (and their gers that we slept in), a 40metre high shiny Genghis Khan, and what I thought was a demonstration I took part in....which on further googling has turned out to be me taking part in a Mongolian noodle tv commercial.
Back on the final leg of the Transmongolian railway tomorrow to Beijiing.

Feeling husky: Crap Elvis in Siberia

Chilly here innit?! -9C when we set off for Lake Baikal - an hour away from Irkutsk.

Dogsledding near Lake Baikal, Siberia. The snow just thin enough to make it reallllllly hurt when you're thrown from the back of the homemade sled.


Snowmobile-jacking.


After a hard day's falling off a dog sled, there was chance to relax in a Russian banya. Basically the hottest, dryest, sauna-est room you've been in, followed by a thorough thrashing about the body with a bunch of birch branches and leaves, and then a stupidly cold shower. Repeat til you faint.


Lake Baikal - world's deepest lake. Too cold to put your hand in, so I'll take someone else's word on it.


So I'm guessing the high priced ticket for the big game that night was a scam.

Crap Elvis on the Transmongolian Railway

The Moscow to Yekaterinburg section weighing in at a leisurely 28 hours. Fortunately, I had no time to waste on reading or looking out of the window once discovering that I was sharing my compartment with some Russian boxing champions on the way to the National Championships in Perm. Despite only 2 boxers actually booked in this compartment, it varied from 4 to 8 at any one time. Despite not talking any Russian, and them not talking any English, we managed to repeat the same conversation over and over until they got off. Conversation may be a rather loose term for what really was this sentence "Australia! Kangaroos. Costa Tsyzu." Costa Tsyzu is a Russian boxer who moved to Australia. Kangaroos are...well, let's not get too bogged down with details.

"If you don't have a broken nose, make some noiiiiise". Just me then.


View from the train. Ooh look, another snow filled field.


Then it got really exciting.


Yekaterinburg to Irkutsk took a lazy 53 hours. No Russian boxers, just one Russian policewoman. No photos due to fear of arrest.



How 51 of the 53 hours was spent. Apart from the drunk helicopter pilot who tipped vodka in my beer. If you're ever in the country, never accept a lift in a chopper.

Red Suede Shoes: Crap Elvis in Moscow

Red Square:

Practising for my midget kickboxing bout that night.

Turning my back on the Kremlin after being denied entrance.  Wasn't able to greet Lenin in costume either.  His body is still on display in a separate building just outside the walls.  He looks only slightly more real than Michael Jackson.  And he can dance a lot better.  

If you can't beat them, join them.
Copying the Russian military's march, and auditioning for the Ministry of Silly Walks at the same time.  Kremlin entry still denied.


Stalin, Presley, Lenin (all very average representations)

Spot the odd one out (yes, third guy from the right is the only one wearing underwear)

If only I could speak Russian - then I might have some idea what this shop sells