My Story of Asia
Asia stretches from the banks of the Bospherous in the west, to the north and west coasts of Australia, so it covers a huge expanse of the world. My story of working in conservation 'in Asia' is focussed on China and SE Asia. In China I discovered just how strong my liver was, how to say 'sorry! in Mandarin, and what to do when you find a dead body inside a protected area, with no-one else around you, and you know that the 'easy option' for the police is to disappear you.
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The Philippines section of the book covers forest conservation - how to work with armed guerillas, the creation of inter-tidal mudflats along the East Asia-Australia Flyway, and tackling the illegal wildlife trade in reptiles and birds. The Philippines is the fourth most biodiverse country on Planet Earth, with species yet to be discovered. That said, through my travels I reduced this number of 'unknowns' by one; read the story of the discovery of a new species of phasmid during a trek across the last remaining forests of Negros.
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Vietnam and turtles feature, as do orangs in Sumatra (and narrowly avoiding the civil war). Although not part of SE Asia, the book also covers the story of creating the world's smallest protected area (5m x 2m) on Tahiti, to conserve a threatened tree snail.
Extract from 'Travels of a Conservationist - Asia
Manila is infamous for its sex tourism (catering to all tastes), and the word has certainly got around to Korea. The ‘couples’ who appear at breakfast are becoming pretty well a fixed type: an older, battered-looking Korean bloke, probably mid-50s to mid 60s (but all of whom look older), and the well-groomed, fake-branded young women, all no doubt having endured a full-on night of ‘love-making’ from their Korean sponsor. It doesn’t bear thinking about; the completely-out-of-shape, smoking, sex-fiend, and the mainly cute (but clearly worn-out) early 20’s Filipinas, almost literally milking them for all their worth.
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I now play a sort of mock-horror game in the morning at the Pearl Garden; which is the couple with biggest gap between beauty and the beast? The wrinkled old, gap-toothed, white sock/tassled loafer/polo-shirt-wearing ancient crone, with the cutest/lovely/seemingly innocent young Filipina? The winners are becoming less obvious, as the number of depraved old Koreans and the plethora of younger lovelies increases each time. To be honest, I’m just about done for with the Pearl Garden. If I’m travelling with a colleague, then Malate has its attractions: the bars and restaurants; but if I’m on my own then there has to be alternatives where I don’t have to shudder over my breakfast omelette. Despite trying to read my book, or keeping my diary, I can’t help but be interrupted as yet another butterfly smiles at the depraved bloke with her.
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Then again, it could be worse, and in this case it certainly was. I’d planned to travel straight down to Dumaguete, on Negros, so has booked a hotel room close to the airport. The Manila Airport Hotel. It does what it says on the tin (or so I thought … I hadn’t taken the fearsome Manila commuter traffic into consideration). It’s hard to do the MAH justice with words. Shabby? Leech-like (I’ll swear they would charge you for switching the lights on if they could)? Everything I encountered made me feel slightly unclean: the bathroom; the nylon sheets; the loud air-con (switching it off wasn’t an option … the room went to oven-like temperatures within minutes); the trickle of water from the shower that you were supposed to wash in. The ‘breakfast’ of thin, soft bread and oh-so-sweet-and-sickly jam; all blended into a truly forgettable experience. When I was younger, and less travelled, or perhaps prepared to travel with less concern about where I stayed, then I wouldn’t have cared. Eating in the restaurant opposite, watching the world would have been enough. But now, with over fifty countries under my belt, a life of ‘if this is Monday it must be Beijing/Manila/Bogota’, then I find myself needing more of the comforts offered by a reasonable hotel room. I’m not jaded, just less tolerant of dross hotels taking the mickey.
