Mogi 'Two Jabs'

I ventured up to the local doctors yesterday to get my holiday vaccinations sorted. There was a young kid in the waiting room with a pretty horrendous nose bleed, but his parents were keeping him calm with the promise of a fresh McDonalds and coronary heart disease when he hits 40. Watching that crimson waterfall splash down his porky little face provided little comfort as I contemplated the impending horrors. My previous experiences with inter-vein penetration had been mixed.

Firstly, there was typhoid. I was 10 years old.

It wouldn’t be an embellishment of the truth to say that the syringe was equivalent to a bicycle pump and the doctor was practically wielding it like a 12 gauge shotgun. Needless-to-say, I fainted as soon as the toxic concoction spilled out into what felt like my bone marrow. However, as if the embarrassment of fainting wasn’t enough, my Doctor proceeded to watch with contempt as my ragdoll body plummeted towards the corner of his over-sized mahogany desk in what can only be described as a dress rehearsal for the 2006 World Cup final incident between Zidane and Materazzi. After reawakening an indefinite amount of time later I was swiftly ushered out with a swollen skull, a sore arm and a glowing reference of my immense courage and bravery. Personally, I would’ve preferred the more traditional compensation of a lollipop.

Then there was the Hepatitis vaccine; a different animal altogether. Usually when I imagine a scenario which involves me with my trousers around my ankles and a woman in a nurse’s outfit bearing over me, some form of economic transaction has taken place. However, in this instance not only had no money traded hands, but the nurse was fully qualified, she was holding a real syringe, and my mum was sat in the corner with a concerned look plastered across her face. I didn’t fully understand her concern until I felt a sharp and immense pain which was akin to a poorly trained field medic attempting to remove shrapnel from my right cheek. Ouch. I’m not even going to bother elaborating because the puns about little pricks and my rear end practically write themselves.

The only other time I’ve had a mishap was during a bizarre moment of madness in which I declined the offer of anaesthetic in favour of feeling every inch of a cannula wriggle into me like an earthworm on acid burrowing its way through my circulatory system.

Considering that both typhoid and hepatitis vaccines, along with rabies, are recommended for my trip, I might be forgiven for being a little nervous when I heard the harsh screech of the Tannoy instructing me to proceed to the nurses office for testing.

It turned out the nurse was actually quite friendly, maybe even a little too friendly. As she prepped the hepatitis shot and asked me to pull out the twins, I was both relieved and a little disappointed to hear that my trousers were staying on. Then, all of a sudden, she pounced like a stealthy ninja. Initially I thought that was just the primer, a shot to calm me down, to sedate me before Dr. Mengele turned up to do his worst.

A few moments past... I still felt alert and there were no Nazi war criminals bursting through the door. I asked if that was it; apparently so. One down, six to go and I was feeling optimistic about the rest until the nurse couldn’t figure out how many more appointments I would need. I pointed out that I had six injections left and, contrary to rumoured fact, I only had the two guns at my disposal, which means three more appointments. Bearing in mind that I was relying on this women to a) give me the right vaccine and; b) give me the correct dosage, her nervous laughter didn’t fill me with confidence.

As I got up to leave the nurse suggested I bring my wallet with me next time. My momentary excitement was crushed when she informed me the money was not to slip into her garter, but to pay the £90 fee for the rabies shot. Fortunately (perhaps not the most appropriate choice of word), vaccines for typhoid and hepatitis a and b are free on the NHS because they’re still common diseases in the UK – so you’ll be glad to know your hard earned has gone someway to funding my trip.

In one weeks time I shall be returning to get the second round of jabs. Messrs Truth and Justice are primed and ready. Bring on the typhoid.

You know what they say about the guy with the big feet...?

...He has a big footprint.

A footprint consisting of 8.33 metric tonnes of CO2, to be precise. That’s roughly the size of the carbon footprint I’ll be leaving when I jet off around Asia, and that figure doesn’t even take into account any internal travel. To put that into perspective the average car emits around 5.2 tonnes of CO2 per year, and the average British household around 6 tonnes.

So what was my airline willing to do to help me slip into a smaller sized loafer, other than cut off my toes?

One concept which you may have come across, particularly when booking flights, is the notion of carbon offsetting. This can come in three general forms;

1. Investing in greener energy sources. This usually means investing in the development of wind farms. It’s debatable whether you’re actually offsetting anything here because the net effect is still negative, that is, your flight will still pump x amount of CO2 into the atmosphere while the wind farms don’t remove any CO2, only reduce our reliance on fossil fuels (by a negligible amount).

2. Investing in carbon capture projects. This involves preventing emissions, usually from cows (they emit an incredible 300bn litres of methane into the atmosphere every day) and land fill sites, from entering the atmosphere. This methane can be turned into liquefied natural gas which burns much cleaner than fossil fuels, but the energy required to transform the gas to liquid might undermine the benefits.

3. Planting Trees. This is perhaps the most popular scheme. The idea here is that your airliner will plant x amount of trees in order to offset the proportion of the flights total CO2 emissions which are directly attributable to you. There seems to be a lot of confusion about the actual benefits of this method, but a little science lesson can teach us how this process works, and draw attention to some of the common misconceptions.

The process of photosynthesis uses the energy from light to convert CO2 (plus water and nutrients from the soil) into oxygen, water and organic carbon compounds such as carbohydrates (i.e. glucose), which are then stored within the cells of the tree. Cellular respiration is the process of converting this stored glucose and oxygen back into energy (which the plant uses to grow), water and CO2.

This means that it takes at least a few years to realise any net benefit from planting trees as the by-products of photosynthesis and cellular respiration initially cancel each other out. However, as the tree grows it begins to store increased amounts of glucose which are surplus to the current energy requirements (much like how humans store fat). The critical thing to remember is that excess CO2 is stored in an organic compound which can only be maintained in living cells. The stored glucose will revert back to CO2 as soon as the tree dies and begins to rot. Therefore, the net effect on CO2 levels of planting a tree is zero.

At a basic level we should think of CO2 as being redistributed rather than permanently transformed, and this seems to be a common misunderstanding. In order to benefit from this method it is vital to manage forests effectively to ensure that the number of new trees being planted is greater than the number which are dying or being deforested.

The second misconception regards the immediacy and scale of the effects. There is an interesting interview with Andy Harrison, CEO of EasyJet, in which the interviewer, George Monbiot, raises an important point - 1 ton of CO2 saved today is the equivalent of 10 tonnes of CO2 in the future. Over a 40 year life span the average sub-tropical tree will absorb around 650kg more carbon dioxide than it will emit. So that 1 tonne of CO2 you emit on a single flight will affect the planet for 40 years before the two trees you plant finally offset it, and by this time the damage is already done.

So in my case, for example, I would probably have to plant around 123 trees to offset the effects of the CO2 emissions (rather than simply offsetting the numbers). Now consider the number of flights which an airline makes in one day and you’re talking about a biblical amount of trees! Armed with this information it becomes apparent that offers to plant 5 or 10 trees to offset our carbon footprint are simply insignificant token gestures. It’s so important not to be taken in by the spin of the corporation because they’re essentially green washing their activities to ensure that you feel satisfied you’ve done your part for the planet. It prevents any type of consumer activism which gives them a license to further avoid regulation and continue to maximise their profits at the expense of the planet.

It also fuels the misconception that by simply planting 10 trees we can offset the carbon footprint of our cars or houses and by doing so we are doing everything we can in the battle against climate change. Somehow, by planting a tree we are morally absolved for our wasteful actions and disrespect for the environment. Unfortunately, it just isn’t the case.

What I’m driving at is that we shouldn’t consider planting a tree as the silver bullet for climate change. We should, however, utilise carbon offsetting in tandem with reducing emissions and regulating the emissions of big business, while continuing to encourage the development and use of greener technology.

So what am I going to do to rectify my carbon footprint? Well none of the options are exactly toe-severingly drastic. Maybe a swift pedicure is in order, I'll have to run a hot bath and think about it... or go and sit in the car with the engine running, I'm easy.

“What motivates you to travel?”

This is a question I frequently come across on the multitude of travel guides that have graced my monitor over the past month, and it got me thinking about my own reasons – aside from my passion for ridiculously ambitious pursuits and unjustifiable spending sprees.

I’ve been in the education system for almost 19 years, but the final curtain will fall on this chapter of my life when I hand in the final dissertation for my master’s degree in September. Providing I don’t fail in an epic manner, of course.

As I enter the twilight of full-time education a little wiser, and disproportionally poorer, the even scarier prospect of employment looms over me like a sinister figure ready to welcome me into his arms before crushing whatever youthful exuberance remains. It dawned upon me earlier in the year that I desperately need a break from the pressures that full-time education places upon you, despite being told numerous times (mostly by my mum) that you don’t get a break in the real world, whatever that is. It was this kind of incessant rambling that made me realise I probably won’t have the time for anything other than a long weekend break to Hull when I finally plunge into the world of work.

As I plan and research my trip my level of optimism is taking a serious hit, but I’m still grasping to the deluded belief that organising, funding and partaking in a pan-Asian tour is somehow less stressful than reading online journals and putting some fancy formatting on a word document, which is essentially what a degree is for those not in-the-know.

Having decided that a break was needed the next port of call was the location. I’d already discussed with Kirsten the possibility of visiting her in Australia for an extended period of time and this seemed like the perfect opportunity! The original plan was to go in November during the Aussie summer holiday (I know, those crazy ‘roo loving bastards!) and come back for my tickertape parade/graduation in January. However, the best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray, and at around the same time murmurs amongst the Leeds posse about potential holiday destinations began to materialise. Reykjavik, Prague and Stockholm were just a few of Ben’s usual pitches, but having wanted to visit the land of Japan for a while now I threw it out there like a crumpled McDonald’s bag out of a Nissan Micra (only four people will get that reference, but those are probably the only people who will read this so…).

To my surprise Jim jumped straight on the bandwagon and we went about planning the initial stage of the trip. We thought we’d better ask Mat and Ben but didn’t hold much hope as Ben was busy at college and Mat has stringent selection criteria. After much procrastination both men stepped up to the plate and decided to brave another two weeks together, clearly in denial about the horrors of the Australian trip not twelve months earlier. Deciding to go to Japan in September meant that I could add to my trip by travelling around the rest of Asia before embarking on my journey to Australia and thus the plan evolved from there.

There was one more factor which influenced my decision to go to Australia - In 2008 I ventured with the above three friends to Queensland on the East cost. We stayed in Brisbane and Mooloolaba before journeying to the incredible sandy beaches of Moreton Island. The holiday stood in complete contrast to my current plans and the traditional treks across the expansive outback or road trips down the East coast. It was, in fact, an incredibly luxurious stay in one of the most beautiful parts of the world which has such a wealth of things to offer the curious traveller. The problem was that the group didn’t really fall into that pro-active group of travellers. Don't get me wrong, it was never my intention to spend every waking minute exploring the sights of Queensland or to break the bank with extravagant excursions, but it was a little depressing that we sacrificed some once in a lifetime opportunities to visit places like Fraser Island, especially considering we’d travelled 10,000+ miles to get there!

I guess this time around I didn’t want to have any regrets. I know it’s impossible to experience everything in a lifetime, never mind four months, but I’m hoping to redress the oversights of the last trip and grasp what might be my final opportunity for an epic journey before the realities of job hunting and becoming a productive member of society start to weigh on my mind!

Well well well...

The simple man from Sheffield is ready to don his trusty cap and gaming band, check-in his inordinately heavy suitcase and head out to the far East for an adventure Beyond the Rising Sun.

Star jumps all round then.