Saturday, 1 August 2015

Pilgrimage of the Spirit


A Question of Belief
Presenting myself before one of the "Grand Inquisitors" at the office of the Archbishopric in the ancient Spanish city of Santiago de Compostela, I handed over my "Credencial" – a treasured booklet of official stamps (sellos). These I received at various pilgrims' hostels (albergues de peregrinos) along the route of the Camino Primitivo. I had just completed a walk of over 350km (218 miles) in the space of 12 sweltering hot days. My feet were somewhat sensitive but I felt elated. So why did I need this "Compostela" (official certificate), I asked myself? A pilgrimage it may be but after all I am not religious.

The Inquisitor folded her pale hands and began questioning me. How had I travelled – by bicycle or on foot? Had I really walked the whole of the last 100km (the minimum requirement)? Where had my walk begun? What
was my motivation? I mumbled awkwardly, stumbling over the Spanish grammar. Her stare, her dark eyes and the quiet, reedy tone of her voice had unsettled me. Sternly she pushed a register towards me, followed by a Godly looking pen. Managing to break eye contact, I looked down and began completing the details, while she scrutinised my credencial. My name – my country – my town – my beliefs, then a list to select from. Was I, a) religious, b) spiritual, or c) a heathen, unbeliever or some such condemning descriptor. I ticked "spiritual" and then looked at what all the others above me had ticked. I looked over to the previous pages. By my estimate I think about 75% had ticked spiritual. About 15% had called themselves unbelievers and only the remaining 10% had ticked "religious." I was surprised. Was this a reliable reflection of the state of the world, or only of the type of people who are motivated to walk until their feet bleed for no material gain? I decided upon the latter.

The Inquisition - A Stern Business

After walking all the way to Santiago, the queue for the Compostela can be long

Pilgrims services are held daily in the cathedral. If you're lucky you'll witness the jaw-dropping sight of the huge incense burner swinging dangerously from side to side across the massed congregation

I normally steadfastly resist labels and stereotypes for myself, and yet I had comfortably ticked the box describing myself as spiritual. And thinking about it still, as I wandered back out into the sunlit cathedral square, it is how I could easily describe the mentality of the people I had found myself walking with for those 2 weeks. People I now, strangely, felt bonded to as if they were lifelong friends.
A few of those friends

Goals and The Pot of Gold Metaphor
There have been many illustrative folk stories over time which seek to demonstrate that a treasure which is sought as a goal, results in the person seeking it later realising that what was really to be gained by their quest, was not the goal itself but that which he or she experienced along the road to that goal.

Most religions embrace and promote the idea of pilgrimage. Moslems are encouraged to make at least
one journey to Mecca in their lives, while Hindus follow great rivers and Christians walk between great cathedral cities. I have little doubt that the wise originators of these religious groups had this aim in mind – for people to gain wisdom along the way. Even secular pilgrimages are not uncommon. The young shepherd boy in Paul Coelho's book "The Alchemist," who had a dream of a chest of buried gold, finally found the Alchemist he sought, in order to ask where he might find the treasure. Finally tracking him down, he was sent home again, back to his fields, but not before he had learned along the way to understand about the soul of the world and that his own destiny was entwined with that of the world, since, he was told, "they were written by the same hand." Only then did the young man discover the gold, buried in his own fields. And of course most of us know this metaphor to be true in practice. Yet as with many of life's most valuable lessons, what we subliminally know to be true is kept hidden from us while we are focussed too closely on our daily toils. We need to escape from work and responsibilities in order to really understand it to the level that we can act upon it – live by it.

The Camino Primitivo crosses mountainous and unspoilt Asturias before meeting the Camino Frances trail as one enters Galicia. The route has been extended to start north of Oviedo, close to the coast east of Gijon.

The Camino Primitivo
Like all the best treasures in life, I stumbled upon this pilgrimage by accident. In Paul Coelho's Alchemist's terms, I allowed my destiny to take me down a path I needed to go. I had done a short 1 week Camino a year before – the Camino Finisterre – at the instigation of my wife (a wise woman where I am concerned). My brother then showed an interest and we agreed to do a 2 week Camino together. For a number of historic reasons this made the experience more profound – probably for both of us. Even the choice of the Camino Primitivo seemed like an accident, and yet it all came together, along with the selection of people we met, many of whom I feel sure will remain friends, to form something powerful and life-changing. Something that from my current perspective seems far from accidental. Fear not my friends, I have not "found religion," but I have found something valuable, or at least a large piece of it.

Priorities and Redirecting One's Life
At some point, often in late middle-age, we all seem to find ourselves bogged down in responsibilities, habits and the pressures of mortgages and careers etc. We tell ourselves we want to escape these things but that we don't have the time. We look for a friend or partner to join us and then use them as an excuse for not doing it. Our job begins to look busier or less secure. An elderly relative looks like they might be on their last legs. These are excuses and are almost never a valid reason. A week away on a short Camino is possible for almost anyone, both in terms of time and physical capability. The "nobody to do it with" excuse seems to be the most common. But one meets people along the way – in hostels you can hardly avoid it. Two weeks I found to be far more rewarding but that could be Step 2 if you are apprehensive. Nobody – and I mean nobody – who does a Camino regrets it. It is one of life's great truths. In fact most who do it never stop telling others what an amazing experience it was, which can become a pain.

 Memorable dinner together in Bodenaya Albergue - Frienships are easily made on Camino

The Ecstasy and the Agony
Despite the intense feelings of "rightness" I felt as my camino progressed – a feeling that sometimes did border on the ecstatic – I came down to earth with a bump about two days from Santiago de Compostela. Suddenly I realised that what had almost become a way of life – getting up at 05:45, starting walking just before sunrise, stopping at small village cafes for simple breakfasts, striding over almost deserted sun-drenched and forested mountainsides with mist hanging in the valleys like cotton-wool, talking with friends about our lives and our feelings, then arriving tired but elated at a country albergue to rest before going out to the village bar for well deserved beer and simple food – would soon be over. Just a memory. I sunk into a partial depression. Could I not continue walking forever – a lifelong pilgrimage? I got over this malaise of course, once I was home and able to share my thoughts and experiences with my family and close friends, but there is a part of me that will always be sad that it is over. Until the next time, perhaps?

 After a hundred kilometres, unaccustomed feet begin to suffer

 Some of the early morning vistas in Asturias take your breath away

 The (optional) pass of the Hospitales near Campiello is the 
toughest of any Camino, the book says. It's well worth the effort.

 Often you look out from the green and gold hills and the windmills are the only manmade thing you can see

 Typical path on the Camino Primitivo

The sun, the green forests and the golden grass were always there. 
The Primitivo is less known than other Caminos so silence is not hard to find.

Information on Caminos
There are many guidebooks and on-line resources. My brother and I carried with us the recently updated book, The Northern Caminos, by Laura Perazzoli and Dave Whitson, published by Ciserone. I found it accurate and helpful, but I do find it is usually rewarding to stray away from the recommendations of others at times, even if it means going "wrong." My camino is my camino, and yours is yours.

In 2008/9 Mark Swain cycled from Ireland to Tokyo, a journey of 10,000 miles, with his 18 year old son Sam. If you would like to read their bestselling travel book 'Long Road, Hard Lessons', you can find this, along with his two collections of short stories, on Amazon, Smashwords etc. 
In the UK his books can also be found in all Waterstones Bookstores.

Monday, 27 July 2015

Palio of Siena

Tuscany in Italy has created and still houses some of the greatest works of art mankind has ever produced.
Spending time in this region I find myself wondering why. Examining the culture it is noticeable how much people are driven by passion. Passion for love, for beauty, for good food and wine, for music, poetry and prose, design, the thrill of speed, the love of battling to win and of overcoming one's enemies. Passion is predominately credited in Italy for driving success. The works of great composers, writers, painters, sculptors, architects and designers. The subliminal and inexplicable elements that are the spirit of a Ferrari, a great film or the best Italian cooking. So what is it about passion that seems to produce such impressive results?
I would like to think that all of us possess the capacity to feel passion. I believe we do, but that it is more easily sparked in some of us than others. Advertisers work hard to unlock it. But is it something that comes from within us or is it injected? Some would have it that passion is something primeval, coming from nature – not something logical, predictable or controllable. I like to come down on that side. Yet I know that it is possible to unlock passion in others if we understand them well enough. This must be the ultimate power.

In August, in the beautiful city of Siena I encounter a society with so much of its sophisticated historical past intact in its current culture. I am here for the annual Palio. An ancient and somewhat strange horse race run through the streets of the main square. The passion for the Palio is palpable everywhere. It is not a tourist event. In fact outsiders are barely tolerated. Intrigued, I look up the history.


There are two Palios each year. One in July and one in August, when people are mad with the heat and their blood is up. Ten horses are selected and assigned to the ten participating 'Contrada' by lottery from those offered by local breeders. Owners win little money. It is about the glory of winning - these are riches enough. Riders however can become financially rich, it is said. The horses are named 'The Barbero' and the jockey 'The Barbesco'. As you can see, this is a primitive battle, not a sport. The Contrada were originally local barracks of soldiers. When not fighting wars, they needed an outlet for their passions and desire for danger. Warlike games were devised. Over time these were banned or died out, leaving only the Palio horse race. The motivations of the race are hard for outsiders to understand. They are based in historic issues. The ten horses are blessed in the church of the Contrada they run for. Yes, horses in church! Yet it is a secular festival. The race is dangerous both for riders and horses. The track is compacted Tufo earth over the cobbled square. Corners are padded with mattresses and leather. Horses and riders die (less so of late). Crowds go wild for what is merely a 4 minute race. The passion swells from the start of the week, building through the 3 days of practice races and culminates in an explosion of madness (it is said it is as if the walls of Siena are about to fall) when it comes to the final event.


The Palio is both moral and openly corrupt (bribery goes with the territory). There is no advertising or sponsorship by the likes of Coca Cola or Heineken here. Yet this is no contradiction to the locals. It is The Palio. It is for me an undeniably beautiful and thrilling spectacle, where over years they have learned the power of the long, painful buildup to an explosive crescendo. To have any hope of a good view, spectators either pay between 250 and 2500 Euro to stand or sit on a balcony or they bag a place in the centre of the square and stand in blazing heat, crammed cheek by jowl for 6hrs. For the last 2hrs of that wait, the crowd needs to endure a painfully slow procession of traditionally dressed flag tossers then finally a bullock cart of dignitaries. Just when you think boredom will kill you if the heat doesn't, a gun goes off and the horses arrive to tumultuous applause. There is a further agonising wait as they try to get each of the ten horses and Jockeys to line up. Maybe half-an-hour before the shouts of a desperate crowd (many now carried away on stretchers due to heatstroke) result in the starting gun being fired.





Bang! Complete orgasmic madness ensues. The Colosseum in Rome with its gladiators never saw the like.
The writhing mass of thousands of spectators as they stretch and fight to see, while the horses run at literally breakneck speed around the track. A faller at the San Martino bend sees a rider break his leg. The horse runs on. The rules say it can still win without a rider. As the horses pass us at the end of a lap the crowd around me is wild with passion - as am I. Involuntary tears blur my vision. Fear is there too. The hoofs thunder. Jockeys pull at one another as they dice with death at our turn. Our Contrada's horse is ahead! It's unbelievable. People all around seem as if they might die of their excitement. Women wail and clasp their heads. Men, like crazed beasts, bellow encouragement and foam at the mouth. The final lap is upon us already. Our horse still ahead followed by the riderless horse. People swoon and collapse beneath the feet of the crowd with emotional exhaustion as the winner thunders past in a blur. And it's our Contrada's horse - the people we shared dinner with in the streets last night! It is as if we have been in the midst an epic battle rather than a race. Everyone is crying and looking like they've lost their minds. People tear at their clothes, their hair. None of us will ever be the same again. Celebrations begin before the shock has even begun to subside. Scenes of absolute mania. They climb the barriers en-mass and mob the jockey, pulling him from his horse. The jockey looks afraid, as well he might. The foaming horse rears up and has to be restrained. I have never seen or experienced anything like it. This is true passion – three and a half minutes of explosively devastating passion. This is The Palio di Siena. Now I know why someone at dinner last night told me with a flash of manic fire in his eyes, that once you've seen one, you are hooked.
I am calm now. My heartbeat is almost normal again - but not quite. The very thought of it makes my heart-rate begin to climb.
In same way that Zen Archery is said to be the key to understanding Zen, for me The Palio is the key to understanding the notion of passion - in the Italians at least, but probably in the human race. It's primitive. Lust. The quest for fire. The climb of the men of the winning Contrada, up a wooden tower to retrieve the flag with the Madonna, that they will cherish until next year. They climb and fall several times in their mania. Finally they reach it and parade it around the circuit. Again the crowd goes wild. I feel like I died and was reborn that day. I kid you not!

In 2008/9 Mark Swain cycled from Ireland to Tokyo, a journey of 10,000 miles, with his 18 year old son Sam. If you would like to read their bestselling travel book 'Long Road, Hard Lessons', you can find this, along with his two collections of short stories, on Amazon, Smashwords etc. 
In the UK his books can also be found in all Waterstones Bookstores.

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Cycling For Weight-Loss

A Familiar Story
Many long-distance cyclists will have experienced it. You come across another westerner, cycling out in the wilds of Laos, Thailand or Borneo and you stop for a conversation. They seem to have cycled almost everywhere in the world worth cycling. There is a zeal in their eyes when they talk about it. Looking down you see sculpted calfs and a physique that belies the age of the rider - he says he's retired so he's probably in his sixties. Then you ask the question - "So how long have you been into cycling?"

And this is the familiar bit. Frequently these irrepressible enthusiasts will tell you that five or ten years ago they weighed twice or even three times as much as they do now, drank heavily and smoked forty a day. They hadn't ridden a bike since they were a kid.


"I had a heart attack. The doctors told me if I didn't change the way I lived I would be dead within a year. I stopped smoking, stopped the heavy drinking, stopped eating junk and got some regular exercise. Then a friend suggested I take up cycling."

What they then tell you is how the weight began to fall off them and their health began to return. But invariably they go on to talk about how they began to love the cycling - the buzz it gave them, the people they met, the places they went and the simple pleasure of being out in the countryside.

Countryside is made to cycle in

One Dutchman I met in Laos was a case in point. In fact his name was Kase. We met him at the bottom of a long steep hill somewhere north of Vientiane (the diminutive capital). We stopped.

"Are you okay, do you have a problem with the bike?"
"No no, my wife was telephoning from Holland so I stopped. Where are you from?"
"England. You're from Holland yes – is this your first time in Laos?"
"No my third. I'm on my way to Vietnam then I'll fly home from Saigon. Only three weeks this time."
"You do a lot of this then?"
"Oh yes. I'm nearly always away. I can't stop, because I love it so much. Six years ago I was so fat and unhealthy and my doctor told me to get exercise. I bought a bike and I found I loved cycling so much. Now Im obsessed – my family hardly see me. Ha ha, before they could always find me sitting in the chair, watching TV and drinking beer. Complaining! I love my life so much now. It's incredible. Anyhow I'm sorry I have to go, I want to make it to Luang Prabang tonight. Watch out for the hills, guys - there is a big one about one hour ahead. It continues up and up for about sixty kilometres... but the view is incredible. Enjoy it and watch out for the hot springs place – you can't miss it... incredible!"

The cycling paradise that is Laos

Miracle Weight-loss Formula
I always sigh when I hear someone say they are on a special weight-loss diet or that they are going to the gym. For a start these are unlikely to work because (unlike Kase) their way of life will not fundamentally change. Moreover, I cannot for the life of me understand why someone would suffer this kind of boring regime when they could be out there in the beauty of the world, enjoying the gentle motion of pedalling a bicycle. Cycling is the best route to fitness and good health I know. It's gentle - you are unlikely to suffer impact injuries etc that you may well experience in other sports - it's meditative, it needn't be expensive and you can do it almost anywhere. But the big selling point is that you can be going somewhere, visiting interesting places and enjoying beautiful scenery while you're getting your exercise. There is also a tremendous sense of achievement at the end of every day's ride and even more-so at the end of every expedition. In fact I would say I have rarely met a depressed, miserable or pessimistic long-distance cyclist.

Why endure the blandness of a gym when you could be out there doing it for real?

Next time you are thinking you need to go on a diet or that you should take out a gym membership, do yourself a favour, take a trip to your local cycle shop instead.




In 2008/9 Mark Swain cycled from Ireland to Tokyo, a journey of 10,000 miles, with his 18 year old son Sam. If you would like to read their bestselling travel book 'Long Road, Hard Lessons', you can find this, along with his two collections of short stories, on Amazon, Smashwords etc. 
In the UK his books can also be found in all Waterstones Bookstores.
  

Monday, 27 April 2015

Simple Pleasures

Waking again this morning to spring sunshine, my still dreamy mind leaped instantly to the thought of a cycle ride. Get out there on the lanes, amongst the trees, the English hedgerows, the sound of birdsong and the sobering sight of squashed hedgehogs. This week I passed 57. That's years old not miles per hour. Thank goodness my passion for expeditionary travel and the great outdoors is as strong as ever. I trust it will be a long time before I'm ready for the world of coach trips, zimmer-frames, tenna-pants, cream teas, gift shops and queues for the toilets.


The Benefits of Age
No doubt at some point my physical ability to cycle or walk long distances and over hilly terrain will begin diminish but so far it seems to be improving. What I lack in strength I seem to make up for in a more relaxed approach which seems to get me further and in a more pleasurable manner. My judgement is a bit better. I have learned from experience when it makes sense to stop, how much water and food to carry and most of all that I have nothing to prove to anyone, not even myself. I've done it all before so I can just enjoy it. This is a great stage to reach. It feels like a reward for years of self-induced pain and hardship. But the greatest reward of becoming a 'mature' cyclist, motorcyclist and rambler is to have the time. No longer the 2 week summer holiday once a year at the same time everyone else is out on the roads. No longer the all too brief weekend jaunt stolen between the intense responsibilities of work and child-rearing. Now I am more able to go where I want, when I want and almost for as long as I want. And the great thing about cycle touring is that you don't need a fortune to do it.

Where To Go
I tend to divide up my cycling, walking and motorcycling (I also squeeze in a few sailing trips with friends) trips into categories based upon the length of time they take and therefore the amount of preparation required.

Half-day & 1 day trips tend to involve cycling to a country pub - usually a micropub (http://micropubassociation.co.uk)
Long weekend trips naturally require a little more planning, but not much. These might involve a cycle tour of a number of micropubs in Kent, where I mostly live. We usually take a packed lunch and eat it in a churchyard as micropubs don't serve food. Basically they only serve beer - exceptionally good beer. You might get a pickled egg or a bag of crisps though if you're lucky. Sometimes I cycle alone somewhere, out to a farm shop or to visit a friend. Half-day motorcycle trips tend to follow the same pattern. The main thing is they require little or no pre-planning. A phone call the evening before or on the morning, fill my water-bottle and perhaps make a sandwich before I set off. It might be a trip across to France or Belgium. Motorcycle jaunts can be longer - perhaps down to Wales, up to Yorkshire or over to Belgium or France. Every so often I ride over to Ireland to see a race like the thrilling North-west 200 near the Giant's Causeway. One or two week trips usually involve going further. I often go with friends to cycle The Way of The Roses cycle route from Morecambe to Bridlington (coast to coast in Lancashire and Yorkshire). I've also recently started doing Camino walks (pilgrimage walks to Santiago de la Compostela in Spain) which can take months. It's not all old fogeys. And then there are expeditionary trips. These usually take anything from a month to a year. My longest was 9 months cycling from Ireland to Japan with my son. This November we are thinking of doing a one month cycle trip in India or Morocco. Last summer I cycled the Elbe in East Germany, down through Czech Republic and then back along the Danube with my wife (slowly). It's hard to be bored when you have a bike or a good pair of boots. I'm waiting to cycle The Himalayas at some point, but I'm in no rush. My body seems to work better than ever and that's probably thanks to this regular exercise.

 Men in lycra. A trip to Poperinge Beer Festival (Belgium)

 The road from Ireland to Tokyo was 10,000 miles. Thankfully not all of it was like this. 
Track over Mt Anai Mudi. Kerala, near to Munar.

 The NW200 Port Rush, Northern Ireland. They're at 200mph!

 The Way of The Roses, somewhere near York

Passing pilgrims on the Camino Finisterre, Galicia, Spain

Next Expedition
My son Sam and I are currently discussing the finer detail of a one month trip in India. This time we think we will either buy a couple of those old-fashioned Indian bicycles (very heavy and very unreliable) then give them away to some deserving local family at the end. Sam favours the idea of getting a couple of scooters (Honda C90 type) and riding them back to UK. I'm thinking we'd need to add at least another month for that but it sounds great. So long as the body holds up.  


In 2008/9 Mark Swain cycled from Ireland to Tokyo, a journey of 10,000 miles with his 18 year old son Sam. If you would like to read their bestselling travel book 'Long Road, Hard Lessons', you can find this, along with his two collections of short stories, on Amazon, Smashwords etc. 
In the UK his books can also be found in all Waterstones Bookstores.
  

Monday, 6 April 2015

Asia - Contempating an Overpopulated World

I have just returned from a one month tour of Asia - specifically Singapore, Malaysia, Hong Kong and China. With the exception of Malaysia, which outside of Kuala Lumpur is fairly sparsely populated, the trip served as a reminder of what we must accept we are moving towards in terms of density of population and how we might deal with it. 

World Population - The Statistics
World population officially passed 7 billion on 31 October 2011. According to the United Nations' World Population Prospects report,[4] the world population is currently growing by approximately 74 million people per year. Current United Nations predictions estimate that the world population will reach 9.0 billion around 2050, assuming a decrease in average fertility rate from 2.5 down to 2.0. Almost all growth will take place in the less developed regions, where today's 98.3 million population of underdeveloped countries is expected to increase to 7.8 billion in 2050. During 2005–2050, nine countries are expected to account for half of the world's projected population increase: IndiaPakistanNigeriaDemocratic Republic of the CongoBangladeshUgandaUnited StatesEthiopia, and China, listed according to the size of their contribution to population growth. China would be higher still in this list were it not for its One Child Policy (although this policy has been recently relaxed). More data is available on Wikipedia and other sites such as the UN, but the above statistics alone make startling reading, do they not?


Urban sprawl. Mexico City goes on and on. See Guardian pics on Overpopulated Planet.

What This Means To You And Me
Statistic tend to baffle. It sounds a lot but what does it mean in real terms? The naturalist and campaigner David Attenborough is a great campaigner for increased awareness and individual responsibility over human population growth. He campaigns via the organisation Population Matters and much detail can be found on their website about the likely practical realities of the issue. Population Matters are rather good at putting things into terms we can understand. People have differing opinions about what it all means to us but one thing is clear. People will not be able to continue living on this planet as we currently do. It has been said that by 2050, the only way the world will be able to support the predicted number of human beings is if we all live the way most Indians now do. This means a meagre vegetarian diet, travel by bicycle, very few cars, minimal overseas travel and only having a very small space within which to live. This extreme change in quality of life will shock most westerners. Of course if we do not manage to keep on top of the battle against drug-resistant viruses, then the population figures might be very different. But who would wish for that? It may well be us westerners with our sanitised lives that die-off first.


Hong Kong suburb of Tai Long Wan. Some think it ugly, but it works. 
There are parks & trees and under each group of buildings is a kindergarten, 
supermarket, laundry, cafes, tennis/basketball courts etc.
The Alternatives
If we look at China, with a current population of around 1.4b, we can see that ruthlessly restricting the birthrate via a one child policy does work. It will be interesting to see how people in western democracies respond to being told how many children they are allowed. Freedom of speech pales into insignificance by comparison. Asian cultures seem to more easily accept the concept of doing things for the good of their country or culture. Singapore is a prime example of where a vibrant capitalism in terms of monetary and trade policy has been easily accepted alongside rigid social policies involving restrictions (tax penalties etc) on the number of children you can have, on car use and in housing people in numerous collections of high-rise blocks. Hong Kong and Chinese cities have done the same. Huge new-towns of identical skyscraper apartments are increasingly prevalent. Elderly people grumble but most accept it as necessary and focus on the benefits. But how easily would we in the west adapt to such measures? Well the truth is we are unlikely to have the choice. Short term we could move to less populated wilderness areas but those would soon be overrun.


Not all of Singapore suburbs look like Bladerunner scenes.
Today near Jalan Kayu, an idyllic Singapore village where I was born. The local rail network links to MRT tube network.

The Model For The Future
China is embracing green energy and electric transport. There are estimated to be over 120m electric scooters in China and growing fast. Hong Kong copes well with population density. In the New Territories, not much more than half an hour out of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon, people live in quiet countryside. Commuting is a foreign concept to them. They also seem to like living close together. Like Singapore they have a myriad of new tower-block suburbs do deal with the demand to live there. But they are more chaotic than in Singapore - less happy to be told what to do. Lee Kuan Yew, the single-minded visionary who shaped the modern miracle that is Singapore, saw all of this coming and prepared for it. Looking at his country now, one can see that he probably got it exactly right. Singaporeans accepted being told what to do. Visitors marvel at the place but often criticise it for being somewhat sterile, perhaps robotic in its efficiency. As someone who was born there back in 1958 when it was markedly dirty and inefficient, I sympathise with that view. But unlike many beautiful cities elsewhere, Singapore is sustainable. Its people as well as its infrastructure are ready for a densely populated future. They will thrive while other places wither. But some things surprise me. Cycling is not a major form of transport, but then that is probably due to the heat (in Hong Kong they say it's because of the hills but I enjoyed some great cycling there). But why not legislate to demand electric vehicles only in the city centre (as in many Chinese cities now)? And with so much year-round sun why is every building not compulsorily fitted with solar panels? Perhaps they are waiting until things get really bad first? There is clearly still room for improvement. But looking at Singapore - a small island with a big population that punches well above its weight economically - I do feel I see the model for a sustainable future more than in most places. And that cheers me. With solar power and more facilities for cycling, I could put up with Singapore. 
China - 120m electric scooters and rising (they cost around £200 new)

Unlike Wilson Chan, most locals have yet to realise how good cycles are 
for getting around Hong Kong

By accepting high-rise living, Singaporeans can afford a proportionally large, pristine jungle in the centre.
It provides recreation, a home for indigenous wildlife, keeps people sane and cleans the air.

In 2008/9 Mark Swain cycled from Ireland to Tokyo, a journey of 10,000 miles with his 18 year old son Sam. If you would like to read their bestselling travel book 'Long Road, Hard Lessons', you can find this, along with his two collections of short stories, on Amazon, Smashwords etc. 
In the UK his books can also be found in all Waterstones Bookstores.