When I realised Taiwan was again on the cards for 2010, I quickly had to make my mind up on any other destinations I would like to tag onto the trip.

Korea was my wildcard choice, just two hours flying time from Shanghai and wonderfully packed with mystery; being both a country I know precious little about, and somewhere I have never been before.

Once concession I must admit is that I had originally planned to split my accommodation between hotels and a traditional Hanook guesthouse experience (tea, sleeping on futons etc) but last minute panic to organise some accommodation meant that I’ve ended up in a rather glorious boutique hotel for all four nights. Substitute culture and history for modern art and ubiquitous wi-fi (not that that matters in Seoul, the most connected up city on earth, and bleeding with signal, even on the subway).

I arrived on Monday afternoon, but it barely left me time to explore the area in the evening after a long wait at customs and the bus ride from the station. Perhaps I am more out of my depth here than any other place I’ve been before, mainly on the grounds that I’m travelling alone and have no understanding of the language at all. For the life of me, I still can’t recall “annyeong hasayo” when I need it - much harder than the bi-sybalic Manderin “ni hao” or the simple Japanese “konichiwa”. And then of course, they use their own bespoke character set too, just to make things awkward.

I’m staying in the Itaewon district of Seoul (through chance rather than by planning) and it becomes instantly apparent when you arrive here that this place caters largely for the 30,000 US troops stationed just a stones throw away.

If until now, you are not at all familiar with Seoul; it’s geography, it’s history or it’s knife edge existence, you should probably know two key things. Firstly, that is that it is so close to the North Korean border that it’s within shelling distance; and secondly, for all intents and purposes, it is the key and gateway to the whole of South Korea.

This is probably why there are glass cabinets full of gas masks on the subways. Mercifully the usage instructions spare the usual anime cartoon style that is used wholesale to communicate any visual message across metropolitan Asia (I refer you to such gems as “The Ecstasy Family” - a Simpsons-esque group of cheerfully illustrated crack-addicts who hazily promote a trendy design shop in Taiwan, as just one example).

This titbit should not mislead you however. Inside this massive city, there is little noticeable paranoia - the situation has been roughly stable for some time now, and in fact Seoul has a considerable amount going for it. Impressive boulevards slice across sprawling market streets, and the various ends of the city centre are pinned down by the ancient palaces of the Josean-era kings - and this city feels every bit the modern Asian tiger that I was hoping it would be.

On my first full day, I wandered around this central area for a while before stumbling into a music video being shot on the main drag, then hooked right onto a side street for some lunch. It took about five minutes for me to establish how the restaurant worked, and similarly for the waitress to work out how to best deal with me, but I was eventually fed, and I had my first experience of gimchi - spicy fermented vegetables (cabbage or radish) which are a staple sidedish to every meal here.

The architecture is distinctly less Chinese in style than I had expected (reading up on it, there is little reason for it to have much connection) and often more handsome. I took my first full day to explore the UNESCO protected Changdeokgung temple in the super-clear but chilly four degree sunshine. This was a slight variation on my initial plan, to explore the larger and arguably more significant Gyeongbokgung temple complex, but I soon discovered it was closed on Tuesdays, much to my chagrin. But no regrets; the temple I replaced it with was thoroughly different to the others I’ve seen on this trip so far, and enhanced tenfold by the stunning autumn setting.

Everywhere here is now gold and amber in colour, as the trees are in full autumn attire. This made my trip up the slopes to Namsam even more spectacular; a glowing canopy of woodland spread out below the cable car gondola.

Standing to the south of the jumble of the city centre, this mountain and National Park rises steeply out of the neon and concrete. Atop it is the key modern attraction, the N Seoul Tower, but also the more ancient five-beacons that sit like stone beehives to the one side of the summit.

Up here is a fence covered in locked padlocks littered with lovers’ messages, and a pleasant open space, but I was really there to watch the sun go down over the city.

I took my time, then headed to the top of the tower where I got into a great spot for taking photographs, and was able to capture the quivering red disc as it dropped out of view behind the mountains. I hadn’t appreciated how quickly the city below would react. Within seconds the spread of the city below transformed from a silver-pink acropolis into a labyrinth of snaking fluorescent traffic streams and neon matchbox-buildings.

Once darked-out, I headed back to Itaewon. I’ve mentioned the subway already, but for the sake of slightly more detail, it’s very simple to use and navigate. Most fares are around £0.75, of which £0.25 is refundable on the basis that you return your travel card at the end of your journey. I’ve been flitting around on it with no problem, and like most other transport systems in the world, I’m inclined to compare it to the Tube, which is tiny and less-phone riddled by comparison.

However, I didn’t need it this morning.

I was called at 7:43am by the front desk of the hotel. “Good morning Mr Higgs, your guide is waiting in reception.”

Setting aside that I had been called a full seven minutes before the planned meeting time, I was pleased to discover that I wasn’t late, and Kelly (our tour guide) was running a little early (lest I remind you last time I was called by hotel reception in Asia to tell me that if I wasn’t checked-out in 15 minutes, I’d be charged for another night).

Today was to be the highlight of my trip to Korea so far, and all likelihood, in totality. Today I got right up-close to North Korea.

Another confession to make here is that this wasn’t the trip I had wanted. There are two parts to a visit to the De-militarised Zone (DMZ), and unfortunately, the best of the two had sold out by the time I was able to book.

This second, more-exciting part actually involves stepping inside the blue UN building right in the middle of the no man’s land and taking a step over into the chilly communist half of the Korean Peninsular. For those able to do it, you must dress smartly, keep a straight face, forgo photographs, and sign a waiver to agree that you won’t get angry in the event that you get shot if things turn sour. Apart from these minor caveats, it’s a opportunity that should be seized with both hands if you are presented with the option.

Ultimately however, I was left only with the first part of the tour, which turned out to be really good anyway. The rules are a lot less strict, and not being from a country on a list of banned citizens, we were loaded onto a coach for the great schlep to the world’s frostiest border.

As you might expect, the decor is mostly barbed wire, fortifications and landmine warning tags along the edge of the great Han river which separates North from South in places. In 1953, when an armistice was signed after three years of almost forgotten bloodshed (a shame because the UK lost the second most troops out of the supporting nations) and a rough line was drawn across the 38th parallel, along which the two countries still remain divided.

Not that this suited either side particularly. Both still long for re-unification, but when the ideologies differ so greatly, 60 years on it still seems a distant possibility. North Korea had a plan to speed it all up though, and between the mid-1970s and 1990, South Korea discovered four manmade tunnels below the DMZ, stretching out in the direction of Seoul.

North Korea decried them as something the South had fabricated to sully their good name, but also claimed some were coal mines. This was all well and good, except for the distinct lack of coal, something which became apparent when the black paint began to peel off the walls. Nice try though.

We got to descend the Third Tunnel (as it known); the whole experience is quite eerie, from the exploratory bore-holes right up to the CCTV-watched “final blockage” (they installed three between this point and the border). Everything you are told is of course very South-centric, especially the wonderful seven minute video you get treated to, but the highlight is definitely getting the opportunity to observe Kim Jong-il’s realm first hand.

They are quite strict about photography here, but the observatory has been built sufficiently high to get a good view over the border, and the young South Korean conscripts are far more willing to pose for a photo with the tourists than perhaps you might expect.

If you want to understand how absurd the whole standoff is, there are a number of great examples of the level of one-up-manship these two nations practice.

A good one is the size of the flag poles in the two closest villages to the respective borders, which lie just 1800m apart. For a protracted period, each flag pole and flag was replaced with an alarming regularity and with ever increasing size until the South realised it was all getting a bit silly and just gave up. For the record, the two flag poles are now mounted on top of what could now only reasonably be compared in size and structure to super-sized electricity pylons.

One of the reasons you are required to dress up for access to the Joint Security Area (alas the bit I missed out on) is so that the North is not fed any material to use as propaganda. Not that they needed to wait for a Westerner to turn up in a mini-skirt - Koreans aren’t allowed on the tours anyway - but when those north of the border realised the closest Southern village was a model of respectability, they setup their own ‘propaganda village’ and so every morning before the tourists arrive at the observatory, they bus in a load of fresh-faced comrade kiddywinks to play outside for the duration, then bus them all back out at the end of the day once the last of the coaches have departed.

It’s all quite surreal.

As you might guess, I’ve become somewhat fascinated by it all. Another interesting thing indelibly marked into my memory today will be the relieved expressions of the three stranded Americans who were reunited with our tour party after the coach left without them. Only after the military policeman pointed out there were less passports shown to him than the manifest indicated did the tour guide have a quick panic attack, turn the bus around, and make a hasty and highly apologetic beeline back to the compound to pick them up.

In someways this was a bit of a shame, as some of the comments these strandees decided to share later in the day would have been better kept to themselves.

The final stop of the day was Dorasan train station. A bizarrely empty terminus branded “the first stop towards the North”, it was opened by President Bush in 2002 with much fanfare and the expectation that it might aggravate regular train travel into the mysterious North, into the continent and beyond. However, the plug was pulled almost immediately after it opened, and to date, only one passenger train has ever departed it.

As a consequence, it may now well represent the largest ratio of empty public space to gift shop in the country.

And for the moment, that is all. I have another day here, but unless the DPRK (Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea) decides to popup another tunnel surprise in the next 24 hours, I think the best of my Korea trip has passed. It’s been really good though, and I certainly will be doing some more reading up on it all when I get back. 

Update:

I didn’t manage to post the above yesterday, so have tacked on this addendum. This morning I took it easy, but headed out at 11am to explore the markets and sunken river that flows through the city centre.

A few years ago this was just a dirty stream, but a clean up operation saw it sunken a few metres below street level, lined with cream stone to create a walkway, and planted with rushes and grasses.

It was great, much better than I had expected, and is remarkably quiet considering two major roads flank it at building level. Cleverly, they have installed a number of stones and artworks to the centre of this flowing body of water, and the sound of it rushing into these obstacles breaks up the city noise much further still.

On a number of occasions people have engaged me in conversations as I’ve walked through the city since I’ve been here. One guy stopped me to point out two large fish he had spotted in the stream (he walks along it every day during his lunch break), and an immaculately dressed elderly gentlemen started a conversation with me on the subway, amongst various other encounters I’ve had. People are very friendly and obliging here on the whole, something which the guidebook had already stressed would be an impression that I would struggle to evade.

I was also glad to dive out of the path of the stream at one point. It had been an effort to see what was going on in the streets I was passing, and by sheer coincidence I ended up at one of the markets I had been hoping to explore.

I’ve previously done markets in Malaysia, Singapore, Taiwan, China and Nepal, but nowhere have I had so much fun browsing as here. I only wish I had had more time and a budget to burn on clothes, as the choice here is both refreshing and of a really good quality. I’m also glad I checked this place out because the much hyped Insadong-gil part of the city was somewhat of a letdown for me.

I can’t really convey what makes the shopping here better than elsewhere - perhaps the stall owners give you more room to breathe than at other markets I have experienced, whilst the quality remains extremely high and the selection unimaginably vast. My only concern was the lack of changing rooms, as I’ve already discovered that my UK size here fits my collar, but practically nothing else - Asians seem to be somewhat more slightly built than me!

Tomorrow I start my return home. I will have fond memories of this trip, and most definitely Korea which has really warmed on me in the past couple of days, apart from the food, of which I still can’t say I’m a great fan of. One brief rule of thumb; if it smells sweet and looks sweet, it probably isn’t sweet. I’ve tried enough street food to understand it probably has fish in it. Likewise, with one “western” dish, I was served olive oil, balsamic vinegar and bread, but the latter was so sugary it could have been a cake. Tip: expect anything.

I wonder where I will end up next year.

Comments (0)

Quite unbelievably, what strikes you most about Shanghai simply didn’t exist in any form 30 years ago.

The incredible skyline that has gone up here in the past couple of decades is pure eye candy if you have any interest in architecture, and by night, it must rank as one of the most beautiful city views there are,

I was spending this leg of the journey with my aunt and uncle who had also come over from the UK for Nick and Maxine’s wedding. They had already booked flights and a tour by the time that I signed up for the trip, so the itinerary was already pretty much set, and of all the parts of this trip, this was always going to be the most expensive pro rata.

We were staying at the four star Courtyard Marriot in Pu-Dong, the financial district of the city. My arrival in the city was my first visit to mainland China properly, as although in the past I have spent time in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Tibet - each one of these regions has some degree of claim to autonomy (or at least individuality). Anyway, what i am trying to say is that this was the first time I needed an proper visa to visit.

It was evening by the time we had settled in, and we took a cab into the heart of the new part of the city which sits to the east of the river. The lights were spectacular, although I’m unsure how much was a consequence of the World Expo (which finished after six months on the day that we left), but it really demonstrates how a city can show off their streets and urban furniture when the town planners put their mind to it.

We’d come to the Super Brand Mall - a colossal food hall on the main traffic roundabout in the city. Sensibly they have ditched pedestrian crossings and light signals in favour of a overhead pedestrian walkway that hovers above the whole island, and you get on and off it via a series of escalators.

Our first stop here was coincidental, but the taxi dropped us off outside a huge cylindrical glass tube, with a glowing white Apple floating in the middle.

This made life very easy for me, as I already had planned to purchase a camera connection kit while I was here (I’d run out of space on my memory cards and wanted to get my photos onto my iPad). This store is fairly new if I recall correctly, and very impressive inside (below ground level), as is the exclusive mall next door, which contains a Selfridges-esque food hall that was far too expensive, but great to browse.

The next day was our city tour of the old town on the other side of the river. Mr Yin, our nominated guide, led us around the various temples, often giving us some history and often little insights into the life of his son as a surgeon in Australia. It was very thorough, and I came away feeling fully educated on both topics.

The tea sampling was particularly interesting. Lodged high up above most of the old town, a girl dressed in scarlet poured out six or seven different drinks to try, then after all the formalities - tried to sell us a load of Chinese speciality tea (as you might expect would happen). The same sort of thing went for the silk manufacturing tour too, but I resisted the pressures until we finally ended up with three tickets to see a performance that Mr Yin personally recommended.

He was very good at his job, Mr Yin was.

By evening we had spent a good time exploring the shops on Nanjing Road (the main shopping district) and after G&Ts at the hotel bar, we went to see our show.

It was a ramshackle mix of acrobatics, dance, magic and performance - some bits better than others, but overall enjoyable. The highlight by far was the motorcyclists riding around the inside of a steel ball. The name of this act escapes me, but they managed to get six bikers in there and it was genuinely awe inspiring. It made up for one or two of the earlier weaker acts.

The final act of the day was to get food. Mr Yin couldn’t turn down the offer of a free meal once he’d found us a suitable restaurant (a very trendy mock-communist joint serving good food and beer, called Kommune) but it was a really good place to dine and we were grateful for his assistance during the day.

Our final full day was taken at a leisurely pace, exploring the Bund - a series of colonial style buildings that line the west bank of the river and looking up at their modern cousins on the eastern shore. A river cruise later and some lunch at the quirky signalling tower overlooking the water.

In the afternoon we retraced our steps back to the place where we had eaten the night before, and discovered that the area was far more of a rabbit warren of boutiques, art galleries, trinket shops, cafes and eateries than we had first realised. It was quite easy to get lost in these packed streets, but we eventually escaped as the city turned dark, and made our way over to the observatory on the umpteenth floor of the glittering Hyatt hotel.

This building pitches in near the top when it comes to height on the Shanghai skyline, but is not the tallest, and probably not the most beautiful of all the megaliths here.

My thinking was however that from this building we should get the best view of the city as a whole - being able to view both the extremely famous Pearl TV Tower (that orb like structure they always use as the backdrop during news reports) and the new soaring Shanghai Financial Centre, which looks like the result of something from Tron mating with a bottle opener.

The view was predictably spectacular, and not only over the city. One major feature of the Hyatt is that the hotel lobby ceiling rises 157m from the ground upwards to the viewing platform. With each floor of the building on a ring-like floorplan, it means that you can see directly down the heart of the building to where the guests are checking in several hundred feet below you. It’s understandably impressive.

To wrap it all up, we finished the trip with a meal at the Shangri-la on the recommendation of a friend of my aunt and uncle. Budget-friendly it was not (however I wasn’t footing the bill on this occasion) but the food was excellent.

Overall, Shanghai has a fantastic energy, and a totally different feel to Hong Kong, which I wasn’t expecting. I could probably do with more time here, as I certainly didn’t feel like I’d experienced everything this place could offer (how can you in three days?), but I think I could feasibly end up back here in the future.

Comments (0)

Leaving from Heathrow always means more hassle than you actually ever imagine there possibly could be. Where you say things like “I’ll travel down and catch the plane,” what you actually mean is “I’ll prepare to leave a full day early, carry unwieldy luggage across London and back, Kip on someone’s sofa, take public transport an ungodly hour to ensure being at the airport in time, and then hang around aimlessly looking at expensive goods and lamenting the lack of wi-fi until boarding time”

It sort of takes the magic out of flying.

Thankfully the destination nearly always makes up for this.

I arrived at Taipei despite the incoming monsoon, and quickly bumped into two Canadian friends of my cousin who were on the same flight. It turns out they were the people in front of me at the ATM cursing at it blindly in the same way that I was soon to do also.

Nick’s wedding was to be the following day, and I’d furiously tried to avoid jet lag, but any idea of catching up on sleep was quickly scuppered by the first activity after lunch - golf.

It’s been a while since I last picked up a club, but I played surprisingly well considering. That said, you do reach a point where you can’t tell if the alcohol is making your game better, or if you have simply lost the ability to correctly judge your own performance.

The whole experience was made even more bizarre by our caddies; a squad of bright pink tracksuit-clad ladies, all of pensionable age, and not a word of English between them. What they lacked in communication, they made up in eyesight, and could seemingly spot balls that seemed like they had been irrevocably lost. Hawkeye style.

These pink beekeepers (on account of their huge sunshade hats) kept us chauffeured around the course at high speed until all the beer had gone.

The next day was the wedding, and as we were staying at the golf club hotel, it was a pretty laid back morning. A key thing to understand about this event was that it was a case of east meets west - Maxine is half Chinese, half Taiwanese, and Nick is Cannuk. There were likely to be some interesting twists.

This resulted in a colourful mix of clothing and styles, as well as what may well have been the briefest marriage ceremony in the history of weddings (conducted by my aunt, as far as I could work out). I kid you not, the whole thing was over in about one minute thirty seconds, just before the combined paparazzi descended upon the newly weds for the best part of half an hour.

It quickly became apparent that main focus of oriental weddings is the meal. A twelve course affair, we were plied with a huge range of cuisines, that in some cases managed to bemuse both Westerners and Asians at exactly the same time.

Of note, jellyfish - much like the tentacle of an octopus in shape, but with a gelatinous translucent brown colour, and a delightful crunch inside - it was probably was my favourite new experience. Less so what became known on our table as “burnt bird soup”, but on the whole it was a great feast.

The whole event was well-lubricated with the local Taiwan Beer (aka Taiwaneken, due to certain brand similarities to a well known European beer). It wasn’t until significantly far into the meal that it was noted that some of the girls might like a drink too, and a small quota of wine appeared, but by this stage most of them had resorted to the hoppy stuff anyway.

The after-party was in a room upstairs, and this is something of a novelty for Taiwanese weddings as the meal usually marks the end of the affair. The bar was very well stocked, however for a period when fellow English-expat Marcus got behind it, I found that with alarming regularity that the drinks I were ordering were being consumed by him before they got anywhere near my hands. After six attempts I finally got my order, but Marcus was a little worse for wear, as were a few others once all the tequila had gone.

I met many of my cousin’s friends on visits across The Pond when I was younger, but this was the opportunity to get to know the entire contingent of Canadians who had made it over, as well as one or two of the locals. During the evening there was music, and dancing, and one stage even some golf lessons - all in all a very enjoyable night.

Once the shattered glass had been swept away from the pool area in the morning, and the hangovers had been sedated to a bearable level, we boarded the karaoke bus for a six hour exodus.

This luxurious coach was oddly devoid of karaoke (on account of the PA being broken I think) and took us directly downwards to the resort town of Kenting, which resides very closely to the most southerly point of Taiwan.

This was my first trip to this part of the island, and I was once again thoroughly impressed. This isn’t some over developed westerners’ haven (like the rest of of Taiwan also, there is practically zero western tourism), but instead an unspoilt beachside view on to the Pacific.

The highlight of this place is the night market, a shining example of one even by Chinese and Korean standards apparently. On several of the evenings we ended up here trying out the local delicacies: “cho doe-fu”, accurately translated as stinky tofu; “frying milk” - cubes of milk (don’t ask me how) on a spike and fried in milk and batter that taste like marshmallow fritters, and “Ni Hao on a stick”, a phrase which means nothing to anyone else, but essentially a whole squid, BBQ’d until the tentacles are crisp and mounted like a lollipop on a wooden skewer. Remarkably tasty if not a little strange to look at.

The string village is packed with trinket shops, neon lights and little seafood eateries. Aside from spending time here, we also took a while at the beach bars soaking up the 30 degree sun, riding scooters and exploring the area.

One trip we made was out to the hot springs not too far up the road. The sulphur-infused waters are kept in pools of varying temperatures from bloody boiling to fricking freezing. However, the star attraction split opinion down the middle; why spend your time with your feet dipped in a pool of ordinary water when you can fill that pond with goldfish-sized, skin-eating fish that swarm at your extremities and chew off any detritus they can get their mouths onto? It’s a bit of a funny feeling at first, and one that freaked out a few people initially, but after a while you become quite accustomed to their nibbling, and its actually oddly pleasant.

On one day we took some time to snorkel around the large space-odyssey style rock directly opposite our sea-facing hotel. The water was a bit choppy, but there was some colourful sealife around, and it was really quite pleasant to get a chance to swim in mild waters, albeit in fairly close proximity to the nuclear plant round the corner (a seaside tradition in Taiwan, I have discovered - Feng Shuei or something?).

We also had the opportunity to swim at a sandy beach; one that hurled up huge waves that could upend even the sturdiest of American football players. There is nothing more amusing than watching a six foot Canadian being flipped head-over-heals in a spectacular bicycle kick, then being dragged 10 metres out to sea against his will. We all emerged scraped and bruised (turns out these big waves throw up quite a bit of rock too), but I haven’t laughed harder all holiday.

If exposing ourselves to waterborne hazards wasn’t enough, the trip to the “breezy coast” was a way to ensure that any open wounds would pale to insignificance to the almighty sand-blasting we endured at this popular cliff top spot.

Driving scooters in the wind was interesting enough, but it became apparent quite quickly that the “breezy” bit in the area name had been thought up by some marketing department and a more apt word they might have appropriated would have be “typhonic”.

For some bizarre reason, a TV company had decided to film an advert up here, and I watched with much glee as they attempted to lash down a tarpaulin roof to their set in the force twelve gale.

Less windy was the southern-most tip of the island, where Jeff spotted a giant millipede but which I unfortunately missed. If you are not aware, these beasts can kill a small child with their bite, which is something to bear in mind before you pick one up.

After a week of beer, whisky and beach life, we finally made our way back up to Taipei. There had been significant deliberation on where we would spend our final night, but we were eventually dropped at the door of a rather downbeat looking brick building in the middle of a rather downbeat looking street.

It turns out that looks are deceptive. The rooms here cost a mere £30 a night, but take heed Travelodge, they were nothing short of palatial. My room was probably 5 metres square, with a stone-clad bathroom two thirds that size again. In here was a hot tub, a wall that turned into a waterfall, a second TV, a full-on wooden sauna and a wet room style shower. And that included breakfast too.

Between us we had hired out at least six rooms, and each was individually designed and styled. Dutch, next door to me, had a full on swimming pool of a tub resplendent with disco lighting, and the whole place left me smiling from ear to ear.

By 8am everyone had departed except me, my uncle and aunt (we were to head on to Shanghai together) and unfortunately in the mad scramble to wake up, try and locate both the light switch and some clothing, I managed to miss saying farewell to the other travellers. Needless to say though, the whole week was thoroughly enjoyable and great respite. Taiwan fails to disappoint once more.

Next up, Shanghai.

Comments (0)

Sometime, about two months ago, I sent a link out to a couple of people whose opinions I value highly when it comes to design and interaction.

I had asked them for feedback on a nearly complete website. It was so nearly complete that it was perhaps just a click or two away from going live.

That website was my new company portfolio, on which I had been working heavily upon for perhaps four months, through the dark nights of autumn and winter. A huge amount of time had been invested to produce the site that would eventually replace the one I had built in 2006, a site which I had constructed six months before I even decided that web design was going to be my full time career.

I received two emails back. I deliberately had asked my confidants to be blunt and honest (the only worthwhile feedback) and within 12 hours, the entire site was consigned to the trash can.

This should have been traumatic. I had sweated detail after detail. I had included references so subtle that not even a super sleuth could have deciphered all the little tics and nods. The man hours lost, coffees quaffed and headaches endured all suddenly had been worthless. The fact was that the website on the end of that link was bad. Very, very bad.

That’s not to say the site I completed in January didn’t have considerable merits. The code was all HTML5, the CSS was packed full of ‘3’. There were embedded fonts when embedded fonts were still a mystery to most of us, and it was all sitting atop a frothy-light PHP framework that I’d handcoded from scratch. The underlying quality couldn’t have been higher.

About six or seven days ago I launched HiggsDesign.com. I didn’t really tell anyone; it sort of leaked out a few days after, and once a few people knew about it and had said nice things, it seemed the right time to acknowledge it. In fact the whole process of making it public was quite cathartic; like a weight lifting off my shoulders, after perhaps the longest, least pleasant web-design journey I have ever embarked upon.

To put this into context, I realised I needed a new portfolio a very long while ago. I started as a sole trader immediately after I graduated in 2006, then in 2008 the business became limited, and in 2009 I VAT registered the company. Still the website remained identical, and rarely updated.

Ever since I began trading, I’ve used my own name, my own domain and the old website that I knocked together at around the same time I wrote my dissertation.

But for a long time I had yearned for a better representation online. I wanted to drop the ‘Andy’ bit from my monikor for a long while, as I felt it limited what work the company could attract. Not that getting work through the door has been a problem - in fact probably my biggest issue over the past two years has been finding the time to work on personal projects for lack of time to myself. I’ve worked pretty hard, but it’s mainly through personal recommendations that I’ve earned my salt, rarely through freak visitations to my website.

I started the redesign around this time last year. A full 12 months ago now. I iterated quite a bit, but the same core elements remained. I struggled a lot to understand what I wanted, and spent much time debating very minute little details, putting off the big choices. When I think about it now, I was treading water furiously.

The thing is that I’ve since realised is that I was a terrible, terrible client. Of course, I’d read all those articles about making your own website being the hardest thing to do, but surely it wasn’t this difficult last time around?

I genuinely grew more and more frustrated with the project. I’d spend my weekends sat in my favourite coffee shop knocking back mochas and trying to hammer out something that would soothe this itch for resolve. It seemed like the project would never end.

I had quickly formed-up the most important pages in my mind, or at least the most interesting ones. The homepage, the folio and the contact page were all done, one by one they appeared in my browser window.

By the time I had weened myself off perfecting silly little details and moving onto the other serious pages like the about page, those other pages had stood stagnant for what seemed like months.

I struggled to get the tone right. Was this my portfolio, or the business’ portfolio? We, or I?

The battle continued.

In January I went away for a week to Austria with Tim and Stacey for some time snowboarding. The macbook came with me too, and I felt I finally had reached a stage where I was polishing the brass tacks. A good 10 months in the making, here was the final, glorious result. I was pretty much ready to launch, I thought.

When I received the first of the two replies to the emails I had sent, I wasn’t surprised. There seemed to be a lot of criticism. I took it pretty well I thought. Perhaps even a little too easily. I mean, I often challenge my clients when they request changes to the work I present to them (it improves the end result by a mile), and often defend my corner. With this, I didn’t feel like I could argue back. I agreed with everything that was said.

The observations were all true. The navigation was muddled. The copy was repetitive and inconsistent. The styling was over the top, and what was meant to be elegant had become kitsch. I’d really screwed up.

I felt nothing. By all accounts I should have had my heckles up, been annoyed, upset, angry, or at least felt something. But I realised by the time that I had read the second email, that this was a profound mistake with the project . It took a few hours to digest my emotionless stage and why I wasn’t surprised or angry, but I quickly realised that I had simply deluded myself that spending time on it meant that the end result would be good. By this stage, in my heart of hearts, I now knew that the whole thing needed to be reset.

I will say, I don’t believe this was in anyway ordinary. I had commissioned myself to work on a hyper-personal project that needed to resolve a number of incredibly complex business issues I had accrued over a four year period.

My mistake most likely had been working in pure isolation. Bar the odd look-in, I was the only person who had ever seen the site, and perhaps those who had seen it hadn’t had the heart to criticise earlier when they saw I had been working so vigourously at it.

The thing is, I have built up fantastic methods for working with my clients over the years. It allows me to get inside their business or organisation and produce website that they are truly pleased with. I work with them closely and we plan, iterate and resolve. But here, I had used none of these tools. I don’t think I planned anything really.

The whole thing had formed like some organic mutant. The core had been fired months ago, but some of the most important elements had been relegated to final-minute half-assed compromises in order to get the thing complete before I lost the remainder of my sanity.

So after thinking about my lack of emotional attachment (and taking that as a warning sign that something was totally awry) I consigned it all to the trash and started over.

That was two months ago. I quickly started over, and this time I took input from day one. My coffee people have still been doing a roaring trade, but for the past eight weeks or so my vigour has been tempered by planning the whole thing out before I moved to code.

Some things have changed since then - of course they have - but that initial plan, plus the assistance of some trusted council, really focussed the objectives of the project and I progressed quickly and efficiently.

Of course things could always do with improvement. Before I launched the new site, I felt the thing lacked the beauty and complexity of the original version, but I don’t have to dwell long to think of every mistake and wrong turn that made up that last attempt. This is so much better.

Perhaps the most salient of all lessons learned from this experience was that I shall never attempt my own projects again without taking feedback and criticism from the start. Where in my professional relationships with clients I actively consult anyone and everyone, I managed to isolate myself here in some trance-like way, and it proves that that method had nothing but a detrimental effect on the project.

I am not dispondant about the time i spent working on the dead site, nor do I regret building it. Of any project I have worked on in the past four years, it is the single greatest leap forward in my knowledge of the use of the technologies we work with. The underlying framework of that site became the underlying framework of the new site. The HTML5 and structure have become foundation stones for a whole construct of new techniques that I have become expert in. It has had a truly profound impact on all my work over the past two months.

Today marks the 6th year since I posted the first message on this blog. Since then my career has progressed a long way, and oddly enough, this project has taken up a large part of that time. But I’m so pleased with the result, and the affirmation I have had has only strengthened my resolve to continue building websites and improving my techniques.

Comments (0)

A couple of days ago Si (@Si) and I spent a few hours in a mobile workshop with Dan Rubin (@danrubin).

During the break Si and I discussed a few updates we’d like to make on our Formula One season calendar, F1Calendar.com, and try out some of the new stuff we’d learnt. Over the past day or so, I’ve spent a little time making some minor (purely iPhone/iPod Touch/iPad) improvements for those who want to use them.

However we struck a problem when saving the site to the homescreen. I’d noticed that by default, Apple handhelds use the full page title to label the icon it creates - very good for search engines, bad for users of the iPhone. As a user, it can be very fiddly to shorten it down.

I couldn’t find anything on Google (though I didn’t look too hard), but it occurred to me that back in the bad old days, it was entirely normal to see horrific animations going on in the title bar, and wondered if a bit of JS couldn’t do the job of shortening it down for mobile users - and indeed it can.

One line of code that sniffs the user agent can alter the page title. It doesn’t affect desktop browsing users or people on other mobile devices, but just is a nice touch for the users of Apple touch devices.

<script type="text/javascript">
  if( navigator.userAgent.match(/iPhone/i) || 
      navigator.userAgent.match(/iPod/i) || 
      navigator.userAgent.match(/iPad/i)
    ) {
         document.title = "F1 Calendar";
      }
</script>

Schimples. (There was an earlier error in this code - some extra parenthesis - this has now been rectified.)

I’ve guessed the iPad string there; if that’s wrong let me know, but the other two will work for sure. A nice touch for any site you imagine will be used this way.

And so now, when you visit F1 Calendar on your iPhone, not only will you get a better handheld experience than before, you’ll also have a nice, short title to use immediately, whilst it won’t compromise the search engine performance.

Try adding F1Calendar.com to your homescreen and see the result.

Update: You might want to use this alternative version for a more robust future-proof version (basing the search on the browser rather than the device). It depends on your application. (Thanks Edd)

<script type="text/javascript">
  if( navigator.userAgent.match(/Mobile/i) && 
      navigator.userAgent.match(/Safari/i)
    ) {
         document.title = "F1 Calendar";
      }
</script>

Comments (7)

Apple unveiled the iPad, and like the gratuitous, grovelling, subservient little MacBoy I am, here is my dribble-fest of a blog post about it.

I’m hopefully adding something to the conversation by not tackling obvious things here. Obvious things like whether it works as a concept, or whether it will be massively successful, or whether Apple has launched it at such a competitive price that they are clearly aiming to stake out the marketplace for the next 10 years ahead of anyone else.

I’m not even going to mention that this device has the ability to actually do what computers have so far failed to grasp which is that they are far too complex for the vast majority of people outside of work hours and that this singlehandedly will be the benchmark format for the home computer in the next few years. I won’t even discuss how there are a load of big manufacturers now all scrambling to rearrange their current offerings and hardware to create a similar product that delivers their own format (because that really reminds me of how quickly you saw lots of touchscreen devices within months of iPhone announcement).

I insist that I will not speak of the enormous bevel which clearly set some designers’ teeth on edge, but is incredibly necessary considering how you will grasp this item, or even hint in this article about the insanely beautiful way you will be able to interact with a computer like you never have with any device before.

No, I just refuse to stoop so low as to mention any of that stuff.

What I’d like to discuss instead is the potential applications of the iPad. The bigger screen is the key here. Even if you argue it’s just a bigger iPhone, that’s actually probably the most critical observation you can make, because the thing that limits the iPhone clearly is the size of the screen.

Something you can cradle in the crook of your arm sort of starts to get all sci-fi; just like when someone introduced a touch screen phone a few years back. You can monitor stuff from a screen that is that big. The mail app they’ve created, makes the most of all that real-estate and you can look at multiple items and information displays on a single screen. I’m going to throw out some ideas of ways I think we could see this being used, even by us tech-types.

1. The Web Designer/Developer

Many have dismissed the iPad because of the limited specs and abilities. Clearly this isn’t a machine designed for you. Or is it? The fact is you’ll never be able to edit video like a pro on this, but if your a coding sort of person, you probably could work from this device.

I’ve done basic emergency web stuff from my iPhone. I’ve connected to RDC in a pub to run a script on a server at 9pm on a Friday night (cool eh? No? What do you mean?). I’ve used SSH to reboot a machine. I’ve edited HTML documents on the fly. Dropbox, FTP, SSH apps - they already make this possible, but only for minor jobs. The limitation as a workstation is screen size. You just can’t physically interact with it fast enough because switching between tools is a mission.

But I can see space for a Dreamweaver-esque app (or Coda, or whatever) that simply takes all the good bits about the iPad, either utilises the cloud or whatever storage techniques it permits, and you can then manage and edit web content. The fact they demoed Keynote/Pages illustrates that this device allows more serious applications that simply cannot be delivered on a phone platform.

We’re not talking here about running big function server sites, but certainly initial layups, markup and the like is going to be possible. Custom tag keyboards could make it like coding by numbers. With integrated Safari rendering direct in the app too, previewing your work isn’t a problem and all from the comfort of your seat as you whizz down to London on the Cosmic Teleport Train (because that’s coming the in the future too).

I mean, there have even been working demos of developer tools that work straight in the browser as web apps too (I seem to remember something by the chaps at Mozilla a while back). And so all sorts of clever things now become possible.

I think in a way we are a little blinded by the applications of such a tablet when we fail to understand a large number of new bespoke applications will be what bring out the best of it. After all, you could run old DOS games on Windows 95, but without installing some applications on your OS, you simply will get bored with using the bundled Calculator and Minesweeper all day long. I think that’s a pretty good analogy.

2. Server Admin

Okay, okay - yes another very techy one, but imagine not having to have a damn full sized fixed computer terminal to do basic admin tasks on your server. The tools will be made (to make the most of the screen size) and you will be able to glide around the office as freely as a 21st century hostess trolly - bringing all the tools you need to wherever is easiest for you to work from. That is it’s useful until you need to replace a big chunk of server hardware. The beauty of the concept sort of crashes into a wall on that point, although you could use it to beat the server tower as a way to vent your frustration. Always a silver lining.

3. Data Collection

The fact is that I’ve already pimped the idea of data collection via iPhones to some of my clients (do you know you can actually take credit card payments using certain keypad-based applications too?) and they seem pretty positive about the idea seems like this might be a really nifty application. But what if you can scale that up to taking surveys and other data collection activities with in-built validation and ultimate portability (remember this thing weights just a quarter of a normal 13 inch Macbook)? One of the biggest problems my clients face is the accuracy of paper-caught information - firstly in it’s validity and secondly in having to re-enter it into a database. This solves that, and where the iPhone fails to provide a big enough input - this would allow enough space to demonstrate additional content and allow the people being surveyed to provide their own response. Much like handing them the clipboard and pen.

Of course there are implications - cost, theft etc, but in certain environments this could replace traditional techniques and look damned impressive to your audience at the same time.

4. Controlling Your Environment

I have an app called Rowmote Pro on my iPhone which is excellent. It allows me to control applications on my Mac remotely, and if I was mad enough to buy an Apple TV, I could interact with that too.

The fact is the phone’s screen limits you to something similar to that of a trackpad. It would be lovely to VNC in at the same time and fiddle with the applications properly (without some of the restrictions of trying to control an entire iMac, blind, using just a Apple Remote). You then start getting all James Bond with your applications. Things like that car control in Tomorrow Never Dies is theoretically possible using an iPhone, but would be damned fiddly. However, on a bigger screen?

Okay, so now your driving your Aston Martin (which we all will own in the future anyway) using your iPad - but that’s perhaps not it’s real benefit. Having control panel like access to the media devices, perhaps audio, perhaps mechanical aspects of your house (blinds, garage doors, cooker, fridge) isn’t some kind of fantasy. These technologies exist already and can be found in tech-savvy luxury builds. However, the iPad opens things up a little more. The console for these types of systems probably cost thousands and have to be installed at great cost too. What if you could offer products that integrated with this as the core console and provided the same functionality, plus a (what-I-would-guess) as a much better interface, plus all the other benefits too.

I really was half expecting Jobs to wheel out a device that made the Apple TV a more useful product, but I think that will come with time as they move closer into the home/lifestyle market still.

To Wrap Up This Tosh…

I’ve only discussed a smattering of potential ways the iPad platform will allow things that the iPhone never could deliver satisfactorily, but I’ve not even spent time thinking about these. They just are sort of ‘missing links’ - I think they are things that we probably already crave.

I believe there are going to be some very compelling reasons to own an iPad, and I think those reasons are going to be almost entirely down to the software, and I think those pieces of software haven’t even been thought of yet.

Oh, and now you’ve read all that, have a look at the blog post I made about the iPhone in January 2007 after that was unveiled. It’s quite fun this nail-your-colours-to-the-mast type of guess work.

Comments (0)

Si and I have been working away to update F1Calendar.com with the the recently confirmed dates and times for the 2010 Formula One season. It’s now back online and up-to-date, so go ahead and update your calendar now :)

Whether you want to download the ICS file for Google Calendar, iCal, iPhone (, iPad!) or Outlook; it’s there and free for the taking. The calendar includes all Grands Prix, practice and qualifying sessions, so you can’t miss any of the action in what is set to be the most spectacular season in recent years (you can customise it to remove the practice sessions and qualifying if you’re not a complete F1 obsessive).

Schumacher’s return, two back-to-back British world champions at McLaren, three brand new teams on the grid with Mercedes Silver Arrows racing for the first time since the mid-1950s, no refuelling and the biggest driver shake-up in years - it’s set to be one of the best seasons in recent history.

Get your updated 2010 Formula 1 calendar here, from F1Calendar.com.

Comments (0)