My other favourites include:

You can order a Burger Bomb at Buns and Guns in the Hezbollah-controlled southern suburbs of Beirut in Lebanon. The chef wears a military outfit and the customers sit behind a wall of sandbags. Food is served under the slogan ‘a sandwich can kill you’. Just don’t ask for any shots.

Warning, may contain nuts. The ‘Clothing Optional Dinner’ takes place once a month in a restaurant in New York City. A group of nudists wanted something a bit more elegant than the wilderness getaways and beach resorts they generally frequent, so now they can nude up in style. Just watch where that hot chilli sauce falls…

Every meal is shit. That’s because every meal is served in a toilet. Oh, and you sit on a toilet as well. The toilet-themed restaurant is in Hangzhou, in the Zhejiang province of China. I suppose it saves getting up to go the toilet.

Going to the toilet might be a little more difficult at this restaurant. The restaurant in Brussels, Belgium is actually a dining table suspended by crane 50 metres above the street. Here a toilet ’seat’ might come in handy.

And lastly you can’t go past a Naked Sushi Restaurant (or Nyotaimori as they’re called in Japan). Pretty much it’s a naked woman covered in sushi that you, well, eat off. There’s quite a few of these around, so they must be popular. And at least it gives a whole bunch of young women and men a nice steady job (or the sashimi will fall off).

I could keep going, but it’s time for dinner – ‘Nurse!!’

And it wasn’t just the name that sold me – they had 20 different hamburgers on the menu including a Pizzaburger, Wild Thing Burger, a Yankee Doddle Doo and the Big Heavenly Burger Challenge, which is a one kilo burger with 600 grams of chips. Now that’s what I call American cuisine – huge servings of food that’s really bad for you. And in true American fashion if you can scoff the whole thing down under the record time you get your meal for free (the current record is 6 minutes and 58 seconds). We settled for the rather tame Mushroom Burger and a Cherry Coke instead. We also thought about having the Granny’s Apple High Pie for dessert, but we were both very un-American and couldn’t even finish our burgers and fries.

Beth and Captain America

The bar at Captain America's

Our burgers arrive

Then again, Beth might be for a bit of a surprise when summer hits in Melbourne. The hottest temperature I’ve ever experienced was here in Melbourne last year when we got to 46.5°C (the hottest recorded temperature by the way is 57.8 °C in Al ‘Azizivah, Libya). I have been to much hotter places than Melbourne in my travels, though. Thankfully we have air conditioning in most places here, so you can get away from the heat, but some places I’ve been to there was no escape at all. In Togo, West Africa it may have only been in the mid-30s, but it was pretty much 100% humidity and there was no respite from the stifling heat (except the local bank, where I spent 3 hours pretending to wait to see someone). Most of the hotel rooms I stayed in had no air-conditioning, so I would get up a few times a night and have a cold shower just to stop myself from self-combusting. I got used to sitting in restaurants with sweat dripping of my chin as I ate my food and I got used to walking around all day with sopping wet clothes and sweaty underpants. Mind you, with another two months of winter here in Melbourne to look forward to I wouldn’t mind a few days of sweaty underpants at the moment.

I’ll be doing a bunch of panels and a ‘travel writing workshop’. The full schedule of events (the festival runs from August 2-8) is available here. I’m very excited about the festival because not only is it such a great festival, but it also means that I get out of Melbourne in the middle of winter!

Here are my events (full details on my events page here)

Travel writing workshop
Wednesday 4th August
Something to declare
$55/$45 (Concession)

On the road again: Tall travel tales
Saturday 7th August
Sam Cutler, AJ Mackinnon, Brian Thacker, Kim Trail
Chair: Irina Dunn

Book Reading
Sunday 8th August
Mohezin Tejani, Brian Thacker

You can’t pick ‘em, but you can pick ‘em clean: Families as fodder
Sunday 8th August
Tony Martin, Susan Maushart, Justin Kennedy, Brian Thacker
Chair: Irina Dunn

The muso, the cook, the couch surfer and the priestess: wide windows on the world
Sunday 8th August
Sam Cutler, Luke Nguyen, Brian Thacker, Maria van Daalen
Chair: Shamini Flint

So, hope to see you at the festival – and if you are already going, then I look forward to seeing you at ALL my sessions!

Gun to the head – Trans Mongolian train, Russia
The train was trundling along through the middle of Siberia when I was confronted by two scarily drunk Russians on my way back from the dining car. One asked a me a question in Russian and when I said that I didn’t understand he began shouting at me and grabbed my arm so I couldn’t get away. Then he reached into his jacket and brought out a gun. A gun? It took my brain a second to register that he was holding a real-life handgun. As he was bringing the gun up to my head his friend screamed out ‘NYEY! NYET! and grabbed his arm. The gun fell to the floor. They both dived to the ground and a struggle for the gun ensued. It took me another few seconds for my brain to figure out that it was probably a good idea to get the hell out of there. I did get back to my compartment, but I never did see them again and I’ll never know whether he was just trying to scare me, rob me or murder me and throw me off the train into the Siberian wilderness (which happens quite a bit apparently).

Motorcycle crash – Koh Samui, Thailand
Okay, I’m not a very good motorcycle rider and I’ve had a few crashes in my travels (including this most recent one), but one crash was not only so frightening, but I was worried that I was going to bleed to death before I got back to civilisation. I’d ridden up a steep dirt track to a view point, but riding down was not so easy – particularly with my riding skills. It certainly didn’t help that I lacked the most basic of skills and I had to use my feet for balance, so could only use the hand brake. I had my hand tightly gripped around the handbrake as I crawled down the steep hill at a snail’s pace when suddenly the handbrake cable snapped. The bike (and I) hurled down the steep hill at full speed. How could I stop? In the split second that I had to make a decision I pointed the bike towards the jungle, but the bike tipped over and dragged me along the ground. I was still holding on (in hindsight, that was probably not a good idea). The bike stopped dead and I lay on the track covered in blood. My leg had torn open and blood was gushing out all over me. Anyway, I somehow managed to jump back on the motorbike and get my foot on the brake (and crawl down the hill) then spent a painful two hours riding in first gear (my leg had seized up and I couldn’t change gears) back to ‘town’ while being chased by dogs and bleeding all over the seat. And do you know what? On my very next trip to Asia I hired a motorbike again – and fell off again.

Violently ill – Togo, Africa
I’ve had a few dodgy tummies in my travels, but when I got sick in the jungles of Togo I thought I was going to die. It probably didn’t help that I had no idea where I was (which was my whole idea for my book Where’s Wallis?) or where the nearest hospital was or what was wrong with me or the fact that I literally had to drag myself through a steamy jungle with cramps that would kill a black dog. I guessed that it was some sort of food poisoning, but my whole body ached (including my eyeballs and even my eyebrows). I had to cross a large lake in a tiny wooden canoe, trudge through thick jungle then stand on a stifling hot road and hitch for a ride (there was no public transport). I got dropped off at the first place that resembled a hotel then spent 24 hours in bed in a fitful sleep. I hadn’t eaten anything in 36 hours by the time I crawled out of bed, but I forced myself to eat something so I could get enough energy to find out where the hell I was.

A scary proposition – Benin, Africa
I was in the dark back streets of Cotonou in Benin (for my book Where’s Wallis?) when I stopped for a drink at a bar. First of all I probably shouldn’t have been walking around in the first place (Lonely Planet suggests that you shouldn’t be walking around the area I was in AT ALL!). The streets were pitch black, so when I saw a well-lit bar I stopped for a drink, even though the bar’s name was a tad discouraging. The inside of Rita’s Rough Bar was full of boisterous drunk locals, so I grabbed a table on the footpath. Before long I was surrounded by a band of merry men asking me questions. After about thirty minutes a young very large muscly fellow asked me if I would like to go to his house for a party. ‘We can have lots of fun,’ he enthused. He then leant in, while putting his hand gently on my knee, and whispered, ‘I promise I won’t be violent with you.’ I took that as a cue to leave (and sprint back to my hotel).

Skiing off a cliff – Mt Hutt, New Zealand
I’ve done the bungy jumping thing and the biplane and other ‘extreme’ scary sports, but the most scared I’ve been is when I was skiing. I’ve skied every season for 25 years and I also worked as a ski guide, so I can ski, but one day at Mount Hutt in New Zealand I was sure I was going to die. I’d gone out of bounds to find some wind-blown powder and found myself a great steep gully full of the fresh stuff. It was only when I finished skiing the gully that it got freakin’ scary. I had to ski along the top of a steep, narrow ridge to get back to the ski area. I only had to traverse across it but it was all ice. As in blue, shiny, ice. But what put me on the edge of complete panic was that there was a sheer cliff directly below me. As in a sheer drop of hundreds of metres to certain death. It was only the sharpness of my ski edges and my steady slow traverse that kept me gripped to the ice. Just one tiny mistake and I would have been gone for sure. I was even worried that my heart was beating so hard that it might make my skis ‘chatter’ and I’d lose grip. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited skiing when I got back over the ridge and back to the ski runs.

I got back yesterday from another magical trip to Bali (sorry I didn’t blog when I was away, but I really don’t like sitting in internet cafes with other travellers updating their facebook status). Last year when I won Travel Book of the Year I also ‘won’ a bunch of nights at any one of the Small Luxury Hotels of the World and I chose to stay at the The Viceroy in Ubud and the The Bale in Nusa Dua (plus we threw in a few nights on the Gili Islands in between). Both hotels (I’d call them hotels rather than resorts although they have all the resort facilities) were luxurious beyond words (or any words I can think of at least).

We (my girlfriend Beth and I) began our extraordinarily extravagant escape at The Viceroy in Ubud. Our villa (there are only 11 very private villas at the Viceroy) overlooked a deep ravine thick with jungle (and monkeys). It was all those little ‘touches’ that made it extraordinary, though. There were the usual luxurious touches like monogrammed bathrobes, chocolates on the pillow, fluffy towels and slippers, but there was also indoor and outdoor showers that could fit four or five people, a private (heated) swimming pool, personal driver and a telephone in the toilet. Oh, and there is a helicopter pad next to reception (pity my helicopter was in for repair last week).

Next we scummed it in the Gili Islands (our room didn’t come with a ‘turn down service’). But, it was just as magical with breakfast served in a little hut right over the water and we rode bikes around the Island, swam in the crystal clear waters, went snorkelling, ate great fresh seafood and got offered to buy magic mushrooms a lot.

We ended our tropical treat at the The Bale in Nusa Dua. I knew we were in for some serious luxury when our chauffeur picked us up from the port. First he handed us a flower scented wet towel followed by ice cold water and a bowl of gourmet nuts served on a silver tray. Our ‘pavillion’ was seriously bigger that my apartment – even our private pool was bigger than my apartment! Our ‘deluxe pavillion’ even included a 24-hour butler. A butler! We did feel a bit strange calling on our butler, though (we could shine our own shoes). I could go on and on, but it will just make you jealous when I tell you about our free massages, breakfast and dinner in our private villa, beach club with sunbed service, personal driver and, best of all, a cookie jar that was replenished twice a day.

So, it’s a bit depressing now – we’re back to cold wintry Melbourne and the next time we travel it will back to cheap guesthouses with no slippers… or cookie jars.

And here’s a few pics to make you even more jealous:

Our own private pool and ‘breakfast hut’ – The Viceroy, Ubud

The main pool – The Viceroy, Ubud

Lunch with a view – outside of Ubud

The lunch – Nasi Campur

Another lunch in Ubud – we didn’t eat the head, though.

The boat to the Gili Islands arrives ’some day’

Our ‘breakfast hut’ – Coral Beach 1, Gili Trawangan

The view from our ‘breakfast hut’

Horse & buggy and bicycle are the only ‘modes’ of transport on the Gili Islands.

Gili Air (there are three ‘Gili’ Islands in the group – Gili Trawangan, Gili Air and Gili Meno)

Lombok (a fleeting visit)

Our room at The Balé, Nusa Dua

Our own private garden and pool at The Balé

Breakfast served in our private garden (yes, what an indulgence!)

Dinner in our own private garden (yes, that’s just way too much indulgence!)

The Emerging Writers’ Festival is… I’ll let them explain: The Emerging Writers’ Festival exists to promote the interests of emerging writers – to improve their opportunities for professional development and their engagement with the broader public. The Festival mixes emerging literary professionals with more established writers to forge a better understanding between the past and future of Australian writing, and to bring a high level of intellectual endeavour to all the Festival’s activities.

I attended the launch of the festival because I’m talking on one of the panels. The topic is ‘The gentle art of persuasion’ which is described as: Case studies, life stories, getting quotes, being inspired … No matter what your genre, interviewing is an important skill for a writer. But what makes a good interview, and what to do if it all goes horribly wrong? And how do you turn the content of an interview into a finished product? Joining me on the panel is Tait Ischia, Barbara Lemon and Hoa Pham. There’s a whole bunch of interesting panels and talks going on over the festival which runs from Friday 21st may to Sunday 3oth May. Most of the events take place at the Melbourne Town Hall and if you’re interested in hearing me waffle on incoherently then my panel is on Saturday the 29th at 11.00am. You can find out more on my events page here.

And the good thing is that I’ve got over a month to grow some groovy facial hair.

I’m off to Bali next month with my girlfriend Beth and I started looking at flights today. And being somewhat frugal I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the cheapest way to get there. After way too much time searching around I did find a cheap way, but it does mean detouring quite a bit. If we fly to KL with Air Asia (for $139 one way from Melbourne) we can get a flight from KL to Bali for $35. I’m not sure If we’ll do it because we’d have to pay for accommodation in KL and it does seem a lot of mucking about when we can fly direct to Bali in 6 hours, but boy wouldn’t it be fun being an ex-pat in KL. I’d be going to a different country every weekend if I worked in Malaysia. You could fly from KL to Singapore for $10, Krabi for $20 and Ho Chi Minh City for $25, plus just about everywhere else in Asia for you special price. Or you could fly to Penang for $10 then fly to Langawi for $3 (inclusive of all taxes).

Then again, if you lived in London (well, North London near Stanstead preferably) you could go away every week for $11.54 (all inclusive) with Ryan Air. For your $11.54 you can fly to Turin, Dublin, Dusseldorf, Gdansk, Oslo, Aarhus, Krakow and somewhere called Szczecin. Just don’t go to the toilet. Ryan Air have recently announced that they are planning to charge passengers ₤1 to use the toilet. Well, I suppose there’s one good thing about that – at least I wouldn’t feel so bad when I wee all over the floor.

Besides all that, not much else to report. But I will leave you with some funny spoof ads. A few days ago Tourism Australia launched their new campaign with their new website and tag line ‘There’s nothing like Australia’. I actually quite like it, but I like the spoof website even better. Here’s a few examples of the spoof ads on the site…