The Japanese language is complex and simple at the same time. A single graphic can be a whole sentence. In the late eighties I decided to go to Japanese lessons at evening classes in England. The spoken language is expressive and beautiful at times, but I was totally incapable of writing it. In some ways, ‘writing’ is not quite what you are doing. It’s more like drawing. It’s an art form. It’s beautiful really. The Japanese language is a mix of three script types: Chinese characters called Kanji, and two symbolic scripts called hiragana and katakana. Although Japanese is written in Chinese characters, and uses many of the same words, the two languages are not related. I still remember quite a bit from my Japanese classes, but probably not enough to get by in Japan. I can say thank you [which is good.] and tell someone that I don’t speak much Japanese. [which IS useful.]

I cross from Kyushu island across the Kanmonkyo Bridge onto Honshu island over the Kanmon straits. The bridge was completed in 1973.

Once on the Chugoku expressway, I am into the mountains. Japan has a number of famous mountains, Mount Fuji being the most well known, but actually, japan is quite mountainous. Certainly more than I thought.

Google maps plots me a route with two choices, and I decide to take the more northern route through the mountains. I have ‘booked’ a room in Hotel Ishimoto near the centre of Hiroshima, which has parking and a choice of both western rooms, with a bed, and Japanese rooms, without a bed. It’s mid afternoon when I arrive in the city and i will stay over and spend tomorrow being a tourist. This is an important visit for me, virtual or otherwise.

After about three and a half hours I pass Kemapyu and change onto National Road 85, still going south. Google maps tells me that I am now passing between the Thai border to the east and the jungle village of Dutado to the west. Dutado became a news headline in 2010 when the Burmese army attacked the village, forcing the villagers into the jungle in little more than the clothes they were wearing. The village was burnt to the ground and people shot. More than 3,600 villages have been destroyed in Eastern Burma in the past 15 years, an average of four every week. It’s difficult to think that such extremes still happen in the 21st Century, but they do. The Karen National Liberation Army is fighting this area of Burma in a battle for more freedom, but certainly not the only front against the Military rule. Burma is not the only country that conducts itself in this way, but as I drive through in my virtual tour, I have learnt good and bad things, and I feel lucky to live in a largely free society.

I arrive at Hpapun, having taken a path along a very long valley, and take Highway 8 to the west and then south. One interesting thing I notice is the number of airstrips I pass on the way down. I can find that a lot of them were airfields laid down during the Second World War by the Japanese army. The majority now seem to be left to ruin. At Bilin I take the NH 8 on to Thaton, where I will be stopping over tonight.

Thaton was the capital of the Thaton Kingdom between the 9th and 11th centuries. Thaton was once a thriving seaport, trading with India and Sri Lanka. Heavy silting has now rendered the coastline some 16km away and the town is now quite. Its rail connection is not its main link to its surrounding country. I am early enough to find an open store selling cooked food in large metal woks. The food is both colourful and rish in flavour and I choose an aromatic rice dish. This is widely considered the Burmese national dish.

Mohinga dish

A traditional Mohinga street shop

I couldn’t leave Burma without sampling this lively dish. (although I am told that it is normally a breakfast meal, but I prefer something less spicy) I then retire to my camper for the night for a good rest. Tomorrow, I head east across the border into Thailand.

When I headed towards the Iran border, through Turkey, I had to research the most likely border crossing into Pakistan. [I have done this for every border along the way.] This threw up a number of issues, like, do I go through Afghanistan or not? Remember, as a virtual traveller, I can sample all of the history, culture, architecture etc., but avoid all of the problems of being shot, kidnapped or being blown up by a road bomb. I am a British citizen with a British passport, so I also consider what the British Foreign Office say for travellers, so missing out on Afghanistan made sense. There is only one official border crossing from Pakistan to India, so my route had to get me there. You may have followed my route into Nepal, which shows up the route issues I am starting to see.

I am now in india, about to pass into Bangladesh. I have already had to put some time into researching possible restrictions and routes in Burma, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and China. Having my lovely camper is both good and bad, and I will explain these issues as we move on. Before Nepal, I only really plotted my next day. Nepal has taught me a good lesson, so I have now had to plot the next week or so, as Google maps only has very specific data on getting through to where I need to be.

One of the best sources of real information has been the many, many blogs I have read by people who have travelled these roads or crossed these borders, by foot, by bus, or by motorcycle. Something ‘European’ in me, assumed that you can go anywhere with a smile and a backpack. You can’t. If you are considering a real trip somewhere, and you live in a free country, do your research.

Plotting my route this morning presented a bit of a problem for me. The rule is that I can only travel along the route that Google maps gives me. If it suggests more than one route, I can choose any one of them, but I must stick to the routes given. Entering Kohalpur and Butwal on my iPad, Google maps takes me back into India, west along the SH26 and then back into Nepal on the NH29, taking about six hours. This is despite the H01 taking me to the same place, but a much shorter route. I checked along the Google Earth view and the roads seem fine, but Google maps doesn’t have the data to get me there. So, sticking to the rules, I take the road south back into India.

Not the route I would have taken.

Surprisingly, few travellers use the border crossing at Nepalgunj, despite the fact that Lucknow is only four hours south. The main observation is that you get mobbed by traders and it is full of cheap hotels and contraband goods. The border crossing itself is trouble free and I am through in no time.

The SH26 takes me through well farmed land, with fields on either side of the road. It’s not uniform like you would find in Germany, just like the irregular farming in the UK, but the soil is more redder in colour.

Leaving India, again.

100 yards and into Nepal, again.

Is it me, or do the Nepalese do things with a little more style? I drive up and through Bhairahawa and pull over to top up the fuel tank at the Durga petrol station and buy more food at a stall across the road. I have never eaten so much fruit in my life, but it is readily available on every corner. Back on the Siddhartha highway, I head north towards Bulwal.

Oh, by the way, I found this great site for finding things in Nepal, including petrol stations. Alas, it seems a little Kathmandu-centric, if you are looking for a hotel, but otherwise useful. I ‘booked’ a room for the night in Hotel Sindoor, which had ample parking and the motto: To satisfy our honourable guest. Can’t go wrong, really.

What is equally worrying is that any research on Google comes up with some shocking information about the area and constant civil unrest. I did a search for Quetta markets, to see what was on offer and where people shop, and I get a dozen images of fruit and veg and six times that of unrest, military action and gutted cars and buildings. All in markets, though, so can’t grumble too much. One article I read discussed the tribal problems that are inherent with this region. As a virtual traveller I can only continue the trip and sample what this region has to offer, knowing that being there could be otherwise dangerous.

Quetta has a wide and varied history. The city is at an altitude of 1,680 m (5,500 ft) and close to the Afghanistan border, which means the local military is an important addition. There are mountain peaks one almost all sides. It is barely 3C today, although sunny, and as I am going north again, it’s time to get my coat on.

Dry fruits and nuts galore.

To think that this is all local produce.

The area is susceptible to earthquakes and Quetta was largely destroyed in 1934 killing about 40,000 people and reducing large sections of the city to rubble. Since then, a great number of new builds of single storey properties have been constructed in a more quake-resistent method using reinforced concrete. Additional to these are multi-storey car parks and apartments, and although designed to be quake-proof, are a tad worrying.

I spend a couple of hours here and decide to move on. The tribal regions are north west and very close, and just about any quide suggests staying well away from them. With on one official border crossing between Pakistan and India, I decide to plot a course east, but Google maps has a very specific view of what direction it wants to go in, and that is a little too north for my liking. Time to plot a better route.