Around the World

Namibia & South Africa Redux

2008-10-14T11:38:00.000-07:00

Namibia

First off, our apologies to those of you have been patiently waiting for an update; we've kept you hanging far too long.

Our final night in South Africa was spent right near the border, just outside the Kgalgadi Transfrontier Park, where we planned to stay a few days. Unfortunately, we learned upon arriving that it was completely booked up because the Afrikaaners were on holiday (yet again, it seemed like they were on holiday most of the time we were there). Furthermore, since we weren't staying in the park, they wouldn't let us drive through it to the Namibia border (thru traffic not permitted), so we had to drive a couple hours out of our way to get into the country. Grrrr.

After we crossed the border without incident, we immediately experienced the desolation for which this country is known for. The country is pretty big, slightly more than half the size of Alaska, yet the population is only two million people, and the majority of them live in the far north near the Angolan border. Over the course of our seven hour drive to the capital city, Windhoek, we saw about ten other cars. We spent a couple days in the city, which, like most of the country, had a very large German influence. About ninety percent of the other travellers we met were German. We explored their craft market and had dinner at one of the local game restaurants. Jason tried the game medley, including zebra, which was a bit like beef, but tougher and sweeter.

Our first stop in Namibia was Etosha National Park. We decided to camp outside of the park the first night because camping inside the park was ridiculously expensive ($60 per night). Yes, camping! The park is in the middle of the desert, from the park website:

Etosha, meaning "Great White Place", is dominated by a massive mineral pan. The pan is part of the Kalahari Basin, the floor of which was formed around 1000 million years ago. The Etosha Pan covers around 25% of the National Park. The pan was originally a lake fed by the Kunene River. However the course of the river changed thousands of years ago and the lake dried up. The pan now is a large dusty depression of salt and dusty clay which fills only if the rains are heavy and even then only holds water for a short time.

Within Etosha there are three campsites, all of which have floodlit watering holes that attract animals throughout the day and night. The extreme harshness of the environment, and the resulting stress on the animals, provides for excellent wildlife viewing. Some of the highlights include:

--A field of majestic baobab trees.
--An elephant and rhinoceroussquaring off at the Halali watering hole (the elephant won that showdown).
--Seeing processions of zebras and kudus hundreds long trekking to a watering hole and filling in.
--A pair of male zebras fighting/playing. We weren't sure which one the kudu was rooting for. --Kudus doing the same.

--Three different species sharing the land.
--A pair of coupling lions sitting near a watering hole. Although they were amazing, we felt for the processions of other animals that had trudged all day only to have to turn back around when the realized the hole was occupied.
--And on our final day in the park, we were driving along the main road in the park. There was no one else around of course and as we approached one of themarkers, we saw a pair of cheetahs! We hoped and pleaded with him to jump on top of the marker to get a better lookout, but before we realized, poof, they were gone. The grace and speed with which these animals move can not really be described, but simply amazing!

We'd have loved to stay longer at Etosha but we finally headed west to the less-developed Kunene region of the country. Our plan was to see the rock art at Twyfelfontein. When we arrived at 4:15, the female ticket collector informed us we would have to wait for a guide so to have a look around. After about 15 minutes, she then tells us there will be no more tours today, even though they take 1/2 hour and the place doesn't close until 5. We then saw a sign saying guests were allowed to take the tour on their own, without a guide! So we told her we don't need a guide but she refused to let us in. Since this was our only chance to see the rock art (our campsite was an hour away), Jason persisted. The woman then became extremely rude, at one point accusing people 'like Jason' of defacing the site! It was frustrating to say the least, but there was little we could do except move on. (Jason later contacted them to report the staff unnamed staff person, who refused to give her name because she knew she was over the line). This aggression will not stand, man!

We continued west to the so-called Skeleton Coast, which is a vast stretch of deserted coast that we thought was going to be lined with shipwrecks. We did see a couple, but would not recommend going out of your way to see it.

Our next stop was Swakopmund, which is a popular destination for the adventure seekers. We had planned on going skydiving again, but due to budget concerns we held off. Instead we went sandboarding on the massive sand dunes. The woman who owns the company is from Colorado, and we both were taken aback by the condition of her skin from way too much sun exposure. We decided to skip the standing board option because we'd been informed that it's akin to snowboarding, but much slower. As we watched the stand-up boarders in our group slog up the dunes in skiboots and suffer repeated faceplants, we felt good with our decision. The workers had a speed gun and Jason was able to log the fastest time, 75 km/hr (~47 mph), just shy of the record (81 kph). On one of the hills, they had us go down on the same board, sitting up. We started out ok, but after about fifteen meters we started getting off center and eventually got turned around completely so we were heading down backwards. But not for long as we wiped out, hard. Jason felt like he'd dislocated his shoulder (thankfully not) and Priti suffered some scrapes as well. Only after we came back up did they tell us their nickname for the ride, "the marriage breaker." All in all it was good fun, and they even through in a DVD. But cleaning the sand out of our ears for weeks was the true bonus.

We continued south to see the famous red sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Seeing the sun rise over the dunes was spectacular and the patterns created were unique for each dune. Due to the stark contrast with the dunes, the sky was a very intense shade of blue.
Jason decided to hike up dune 45 and got some good shots on his way to the top. Once he got to the top, he decided to keep going and forge his own trail. Perhaps the highlight was deadvlei, which housed dozens of petrified trees that lent to some amazing photographs. These dunes could make anyone feel like a professional photographer.

We continued down the coast to Luderitz, another quaint German influenced town. But the main reason people visit is to see the nearby ghost town of Kolmannskuppe, which sprung up in the desert in 1908 after the discovery of diamonds and just as quickly was abandoned in 1956 after more lucrative diamonds were found further south. The shear volume of diamonds mined in the area is impossible to comprehend, and to this day a large section of the country is privatized diamond mining territory. We were explicitly and repeatedly warned that to cross into these areas was at our own risk and very foolish. But the ghost town itself was a marvel to behold, as most of the buildings were half-submerged under sand dunes. Plus we got to go inside the buildings and explore them on our own.

Our final stop in Namibia was the Fish River Canyon, which bills itself as the second largest canyon in the world after Arizona's Grand Canyon. The canyon itself was spectacular, but once again the authorities did their best to ruin it, as they forbade hikers from descending into the canyon on their own, meaning no day trips down and also expensive guides had to be hired. A completely ridiculous policy and we ended up going about halfway down in just a couple hours. Imagine the outcry if they enacted such a policy in the US.

There are many cool things to see in Namibia, but they are spread on the periphery of the country so there is a LOT of travel time involved. Also, we didn't feel the people were nearly as nice as the Afrikaaners, which was surprising to us because the countries are linked in so many other ways.

South Africa Redux

Thus, we were excited to get back to South Africa. We wished we had more time because the Cedarberg Mountains are lekker! The rocks have eroded to create these amazing formations, and there is also plenty of wildlife, such as the pack of babboons we saw atop these rocks. This area is also well off the beaten track so we pretty much had the hostel to ourselves. We had a great time hanging out with the guy working there, who'd been almost everywhere (including all fifty states), since he had previous worked for an overland tour company. He told us of some the tours offered, including a three-year round-the-world trip! The next day we got to see some really cool rock art, and we didn't have any meanies standing in our way! We also saw this rock that reminded us of an optical illusion. Tell us, what do you see, a face or a duck? South Africa is world famous for its great wine, and our next destination was the wine region. There are three towns in the area and we decided to stay in Stellenbosch, a university town. The shear number of wineries in the area is overwhelming and true wine lovers could spend literally years exploring them. With only two days, we set out early and hit about five wineries. At the second winery, we ended up befriending an older foursome, two Canadians and two Afrikaaners. They were incredibly nice and we ended up having lunch with them in Franschoek, another winery town nearby. After lunch, we hit another winery and befriended yet another group of locals, this time university students who were celebrating their upcoming graduation. One of the guys demonstrated a neat party trick where he took a sword and slashed off the top of a champagne bottle. Apparently it's pretty easy due to the pressure within the bottle. After hanging out for awhile, the college kids invited us back to their place for a full-on brai (Afrikaaner for BBQ). Now, I know some folks in the US know about BBQ-ing, but it pales in comparison to the immense pride Afrikaaners take in their brai skills, as this picture attests. The brai pit is actually built right into the wall. The food (ostrich and beef) was superb, and the only flaw of the night was one girl getting so intoxicated she passed out in her own vomit. Oh, those crazy college kids!

Our final stop on our southern Africa tour was Capetown, which is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. We decided to couchsurf again and so we stayed with Martin, a wonderful host who we hope to see again. We would walk out his front door and see mountain climbers heading up a nearby slope...lekker!We drove out to Cape Point, which was spectacular. Along the drive we marvelled at the huge nets that had been erected to catch falling rocks. We took a short hike around the cliffs and saw whales down below. Another day we hiked up table mountain, which was pretty steep. Due to a late start, we actually ended up coming down after dark, and it was also a bit slick from some showers. Luckily, Martin had headlamps for us to use and we made it down without incident.

When it was finally time to leave ZA, we were pretty sad, and we definitely plan to return. It has a bit of everything for everyone and the people are some of the nicest in the world. Given their tumultuous history, we can only hope things improve by the time we go back.

South Africa, part 1

2008-06-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

On the plane to South Africa (ZA), we both had mixed feelings. On the one hand, we were excited to be seeing a new country (not to mention leaving Madagascar), but on the other hand we were apprehensive about the high levels of violence that so many fellow travelers had warned us about. In light of that, we decided to skip Johannesburg, which is renown for being extremely violent, and head straight to Pretoria. We were quite bemused when they showed us our rental: a like-new VW Citi model that hasn't been produced in the States in about 25 years, yet it remains one of the most popular cars in ZA due to its low cost. The rental company inexplicably had no maps for us so we got completely lost but managed to eventually get to Pretoria. As we drove around the 'posh' suburb of Hatfield looking for a hostel, we were struck by a few things. There was not a single car parked on the street and all of these nice looking houses were surrounded by gnarly security fences. As we would soon find out, cars were hidden away for good reason. When we tried to leave our car outside the fence for just a few minutes as put our things away, we learned that our particular model was the most frequently stolen car in the country and good thieves could steal it in as little as fifteen seconds. Speaking of the hostel, it was the first of a long line of wonderful places at which we stayed in ZA. Our bedroom was decorated with designer furniture and we enjoyed some wonderful breakfasts.

We met some cool people at the hostel, including one local who kept saying a word we'd never heard before, lekker, which sounds like 'blackened' and is Afrikaans for 'awesome'. We also met a German guy who was doing his Ph.D. on the history of HIV Health Policy in ZA, which is very bizarre. Apparently the health minister was some sort of quack and convinced the president that the threat AIDS has been completely overblown and that traditional cures like lemon and garlic are just as effective as anti-retroviral drugs. These attitudes have completely derailed prevention efforts and ZA has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in the world. We hit the town that night and found ourselves surrounded by college students, as Pretoria is a big university town. Although we had a good time, we were struck by the blatant segregation; all the workers were Black while nearly all the revelers were White, and none of the groups were mixed. We speculated that this was how America must hav felt in the 50s.

We spent one day shopping at several malls to buy a replacement camera and binoculars. With our new toys in tow, we headed to the nearby Lion Park, where we got to feed ostriches and giraffes and even pet some lion cubs. Despite being fairly young, we were repeatly warned to be careful and to protect our feet, as the cubs like to gnaw on shoes and even toes. Although we only had about five minutes with them, it was a great experience. We also went on a game drive through an area where about 80 lions roam wild. As we were creeping along, one of the massive males came right up next to our car, scaring us half to death. He leisurely walked by us and then plopped down right behind our car in the middle of the road. Unfortunately, we listened to the electronics salesman who said we didn't need an extra lithium battery, and so didn't have a replacement when our battery ran out just as he approached the car...doh! We had of course grown accustomed to losing pictures but we made sure to return the next day to get another battery.

We headed north and took an unanticipated detour to the Sudwala caves, home to some fascinating rock formations including oned that looked like a giant claw and a horse's profile. Our guide brought us to an area called the 'Amphitheatre' because it has great acoustics, and then turned off the lights. We found it disorienting to be in total darkness where we couldn't even detect the movement of our hands right in front of our faces. After the caves we coasted in to Sabie, which is known for its adventure sports. One day we went tubing down a river, which was like rafting except we had individual tubes. Our guide was great and we had a blast getting tipped over in the rapids and going down a natural waterslide sans tubes. The following day we tried abseiling (basically the opposite of rock climbing) down a canyon next to a waterfall. That first step backwards over the cliff was one of the scariest things we've ever done. At the end of the rope, we dropped into a freezing cold river. Jason went first and was mesmerized by the view of Priti abseiling, so decided to go again so we could take picture. But alas, by the time we got back to the top, the guide had dismantled the equipment. That night we hung out with a local who took us to one of the local bars, where, in between harassments from the locals, he told us how he was a contestant in some sort of survivor-type game in which he had to bike 10K kms for 2 million Rand ($250K). In retrospect, he was probably pulling a fast one (we bought a couple of his homemade sculptures), but were satisfied because at least we finally learned the rules of cricket and rugby. A more genuine companion we met in Sabie was Isis, the hostel manager's Boer Bull, who kept climbing into our beds. This means our two favorite dogs in the world share the same name. Also, Priti decided that she has t have one and fortunately there are breeders in the States.

After Sabie, we ventured to Kruger National Park for five days of safaris. The accomodations were excellent and we saw tons of wildlife. For those who have not been on safaris, there is an almost rabid fascination with seeing the 'Big 5', which is the buffalo, elephant, black rhinoceros, leopard, and lion. On the first few days, we saw dozens of buffalos and elephants. We saw several black rhinos as well but hadn't seen any cats. For some reason, our first two campsites did not offer night drives, but fortunately our third camp did. On the night drive we spotted a cat in the distance and the guide said it was likely a leopard due to its size. As we approached closer, it turned out to be a lion cub that had been separated from its mother and was emitting distress calls. Our guide explained how in all likelihood this cub sadly would get eaten by hyenas because it had been abandoned. But, lo and behold, further along the road we found the mother, emitting her own distress calls, along with two other lionesses and three other cubs, meaning there would be a happy reunion that night. Unfortunately, despite awaking at dawn five day in a row (no kidding), we missed the elusive leopard, which wasn't too surprising since they are rare and spend most of their time up in trees. Besides the Big 5, we saw tons of other animals including hyenas, hippos, eagles, zebras, wildebeasts, monkeys, baboons, warthogs, springboks, kudus, giraffes, ostriches, wild bucks, genets, and kingfishers to name some. Overall, it was an amazing experience and what is nice about Kruger is that it is relatively affordable and it is all self-drive, with the option for guided drives as well.

We headed back to Sabie, stopping along the way to see the Blyde River Canyon, which is the third largest canyon in the world (after the Grand Canyon and Fish River Canyon in Namibia). Some of the great sites along the panorama route of the canyon included Bourke's Luck Potholes, which is an impressive expanse of rock pool formations. Another spot was called the 'Three Rondavels' due to its similarity to the conical huts found in the local villages. Finally, we stopped at a place called 'God's Window' which, with a name like that, we expected to be much more impressive. That night, after reuniting with Isis, we went to a restaurant where Jason got to continue his culinary adventures by trying warthog casserole, which was ok.

Our next stop was a town almost no one has heard of called Kestell, which is nestled along the Lestotho border and the Northern Drakensburg mountain range. The town itself is just a blip but the place we stayed, Karma Backpackrs, was magnificent, essentially a B&B at a backpacker price. FYI, for anyone traveling to ZA, they have these local budget accommodation guides that we used exclusively to find hostels, although some of them were also listed in our LP guidebook. The owner Vera Ann, was like the cool grandmother everyone wishes they had. For breakfast each morning, we could try any of her dozens homemade jams (Watermelon & Rosewater and Brandy, Plum & Walnut were our favorites). She also had some great pets, including a cat named 'dog.' During the days, we went on some hikes. First, we attempted to hike along the famous Amphtitheater but were thwarted by the weather, so we didn't get to climb the rope ladder which was needed to reach the summit. Despite the weather, we were treated to some spectacular views. We spent the evenings chatting with Vera Ann and her husband, and learned more about the precarious political situation in ZA and how many people are trying to get away due to the increasing violence. They also speculated that the 2010 World Cup will have to be moved to the back-up site (Australia) because they are so behind schedule. On our way out of Kestell, we stopped for another day of hiking at Royal Natal NP.

After an uneventful night further south along the Drakensburgs, we headed for the Wild Coast. Our first stop was supposed to be Port St. Johns. However, after hearing another traveler report a recent string of hold-ups at the hostels we were on guard and when we arrived it was so sketchy that we just turned back around. It was so bad that we were afraid to eat lunch in the restaurant for fear our car would be gone before we returned. Thus, after a full day of driving, we had another few hour to get to Coffee Bay, which is known to have a hippy vibe. Generally, we have not liked such spots, but in Coffee Bay it was relaxed and good-natured fun. Jason joined a group on a day hike along the cliffs and to Mapuzzi cave, which was the foullest smelling cave he'd ever been in. He also partook in some cliff jumping into a river since the ocean was too choppy to jump into. Another day we lounged at the beach and played some beach volleyball, and Jason took advantage of some free surf lessons. He even managed to stay on the board...once... for about five seconds. One evening, we reluctantly joined a 'cultural' tour to the local village. The food was not too good and the homemade beer was worse. After dinner, the locals put on a dance show before asking us to join them. It was a bit uncomfortable for us because the females, aged eight to fifteen, all were topless and our guide kept saying "shake that body" in a very dirtbaggish way. And shook their bodies they did, to a rhythm created on makeshift percussion instruments handled by the village elders. After the girls finished, the boys gave their routine, which in contrast was them just shuffling along in a big circle.

Inclement weather arrived on the coast, so we decided to head back inland to Hogsback, which had been recommended by a few other people. It has made a name for mostly due to Tolkien having spent some of his childhood there and thus apparently finding inspiration from the surrounding countryside in creating Middle Earth. Nearly every business in town had some reference to the Hobbitt in its name (our hostel was called Away with the Fairies). As we hiked through the misty mountains past stunning waterfalls, we understood how people could make the connection.

After Hogsback, we went to Addo Elephant NP for an afternoon of game drives, before heading back to the coast to Storms River. Loyal readers of the blog may recall that Jason wanted to do the Nevis bungy jump in NZ but passed it up when he found out there was a taller on in ZA. Well, this was it, all 216 meters of it. As he walked along the bridge, the adrenaline began to build the jump itself was a rush unlike any other. The only disappointment was that the workers did not allow him to soak in the fear by standing on the edge, as they started counting down almost immediately. They claimed that if they didn't then too many people would back out.

Buzzing with adrenaline, we headed to yet another NP, Tsitsikamma, where Jason continued his natural high by going on one of the toughest and most amazing hikes he's ever been on, the Otter Trail. The barely existent trail followed the ragged cliffs and every 200 meters or so the scenery changed. Parts of the trail involved bouldering while other parts he was hunched over going through forest tunnels. He saw only a few other hikers and some wild animals along the way, and at the end there was a spectacular waterfall. Meanwhile, Priti had a relaxing day on the beach enjoying a book while listening to the waves crashing the shore.

We continued down the coast along the Garden Route to Plettenberg Bay, known by the locals as 'Plett.' We found another awesome place to stay, about 6 kms outside of town that had a great deck with a superb view of the city and the bay. In the mornings we could see dozens of dolphins swimming up the coast. For the first time in awhile, we enjoyed the cuisine, including kingclip (a fish we'd never tried) and for the first time during our entire trip, good Mexican food (chicken burritos). We would have never even bothered trying it as we had long ago given up hope of finding good Mexcian food, but the owner of the roadside stall was friends with the hostel owner so we gave him the benefit of the doubt. Plett is pretty touristy so there was plenty to do. We went to a glorified zoo called 'Monkeyland', and we posted some of those pics in the Madagascar entry. We continued our wildlife tour by visiting another wild cat park where we got to pet a cheetah...seeing all these cats reminded Jason of Billy and Simone back in Omaha. We also went on a nice hike along the coast in Robberg NP.

On our way out of town, we decided to buy a tent because it seemed as if Namibia (our next destination) was going to be very expensive. So, we headed north through the Karoo, a vast desolate desert, to a place called Graff-Reinet, a Dutch colonial town which had lots of aesthetically pleasing historical buildings.

Since we didn't have much time to spare, we dropped off our stuff and explored the Valley of Desolation, which reminded us a lot of Arizona with its red rock formations. While we were gone, the owners of the hostel kindly booked us reservations at one of the local game restaurants, and we feasted on kudu and ostrich (our favorite). He also showed us around his members only club and shared some of the history of the town.

Our final stop before crossing over to Namibia was Augrabies NP, near Upington. We stayed at a campsite nearby and hung out with some locals under a mesmerizing sunset. We'd already logged tons of kms over the past few days so we had a pretty quiet evening on Jason's birthday. Although the falls weren't that spectacular because the water was relatively low, the park itself was beautiful. On a hike through the park there were multi-colored lizards on the rocks that were pretty interesting as well as dassies, which look like beavers but their closest genetic relatives are elephants. Stay tuned for the Namibia update along with the rest of ZA (we never did find out why they abbreviate it ZA rather than SA).

Madagascar

2008-05-22T06:45:00.000-07:00

Parlez-vouz francais? If your answer to this question is no, you might want to reconsider visiting Madagascar, as there is very little English spoken there and thus very difficult.

That was the original opening line to this blog entry, and so we will try to be as objective as we can, but as most of you know, we were robbed on our 3rd day there. This obviously soured our perspective of the country and we have very little to recommend about it. Even before we were robbed, we had not really been enjoying it. It started with a rude awakening at the airport when we had to pay $85 for our visas, by far the most expensive yet. The hotels in Tana (short for Antananarivo) the capital city were pretty expensive, even though the one we stayed at was basically full of prostitutes (we didn’t realize this until we returned on our way out). From Tana, we took an uncomfortable nine-hour taxi-brousse (minivan) ride to Fianar, where we hired a driver for 5 days to take us south to Tolear, on the coast. We were both a little sketchy that the guy wouldn’t let us pay in American dollars because we were carrying much more than normal since we worried whether our ATM cards would work (especially after our experience in Jerusalem)…mistake number one That night, we got barely any sleep because the rude French tourists staying in the rooms across the hall kept us up most of the night.

After our driver arrived, we headed to Ranomafana National Park. Upon our arrival, we gasped in disgust as we had to both pay $15 to enter the park and then an additional $20 for our compulsory guide, who spoke barely any English. The only interesting part of our $50 hike was seeing some red-fronted brown lemurs and catching a glimpse of the rare golden brown lemur. As we returned to our vehicle, we met Jose, who lives in Portland after marrying a Peace Corps volunteer several years ago. Jose was excited to meet Americans because he is still learning English and he had been back in Madagascar for several months to oversee some family property. When we got to Manja hotel, we opted for the much cheaper bungalow, despite the windows having no coverings…mistake number two. After putting our stuff away, Jose showed us the dam that had been destroyed in a recent flood. We crossed the makeshift footbridge and had some tasty homemade sweets, a sweet pasty mixture of banana and coconut served in a banana leaf. He then took us to the village and we had fun entertaining the village kids by taking their pictures. That evening Jose, who also works as a guide, took us on a night walk where we saw several species of chameleons and marveled at how they changed colors right before our eyes. Jose informed us that most of the time, they change colors not to camouflage but to communicate. As Jason was returning from the toilet, he had to stumble through the dark because the outdoor light had been mysteriously turned off. As we hung out in our room, we looked through our pictures and even thought about transferring them to the laptop but alas we didn’t…mistake number three. As we prepared for bed, Priti mentioned whether we should keep the windows closed but it was very hot and humid and the room had no fan, so Jason insisted we keep the windows open…mistake number four. Our final mistake was that we left some of our stuff near the open window, including Priti’s backpack and the laptop. Around three AM we heard some men outside of our room making a ruckus, and he even got out of bed to check our stuff and then closed the window after verifying the laptop was still there.

The next morning we awoke and with horror realized that the burglars had in fact taken Priti’s backpack, which unfortunately had more valuables in it than everything else combined, including our camera and, even more importantly, our memory card with all of our pictures from Israel and Jordan. Also Priti’s money belt which contained all those dollars we had stocked up on…doh! We frantically looked around in hopes that it was some kind of bad dream but alas it was gone. Jose returned and inexplicably took some pictures of us freaking out. The thieves at least were considerate enough to dump her passport and credit card near the hotel; it would have been that much worse had we had to replace those too.

There was no police force in Ranomafana, but the incompetent Gendarme took our statements, and also one from the security guard, who actually saw the thieves getting away but didn’t think to tell anyone about it until the next morning! We stuck around town for the longest three days of our lives as we waited in vain for any leads to materialize. They had an internet place so we were able to contact our insurance company. Incredibly, the computers had been donated by USAID yet we had to pay double the rate of the locals! Then we find out on day three that our guide had been busted before for robbing tourists in the same manner as we had been! Why did it take them three days to interview him?! Then they told us they couldn’t search his house because they didn’t have a warrant. Looking back, it made sense that he was involved, as he saw us putting our valuables in Priti’s backpack during our day hike. After this we became convinced it was an inside job. One of the guys investigating was brothers with the hotel owner and seemed just a bit too happy doing his job. The hotel graciously (wink-wink) allowed us to stay there for free until things were resolved. We contemplated just staying there until our departure three weeks hence, but couldn’t stomach the place anymore. At the internet place, we decided to buy a cell phone because it was pretty cheap. We found out later that even this schmuck ripped us off as all of the introductory credits had been used up. During our ordeal, Jose was very nice and we were thankful for his support.

We decided at that point to just return to Fianar since the room was cheap and we wanted to minimize our expenditures. When we got back we returned to the place where we had booked our ‘tour.’ Thankfully we had only paid half up front but we wanted to get the rest back (minus the cost of the first day). Of course the guy had left and so we couldn’t get any of our money back, but we got them to give us a day tour. On the tour we saw some amazing scenery and went on a hike (guided of course) to see groups of ring-tailed lemurs, which were pretty entertaining. The pictures posted were actually from South Africa (ZA), so in retrospect we had absolutely no reason to even be in Madagascar, considering it was our most expensive flight and we could’ve just seen lemurs in ZA…oh well. The final part of our day trip was to a local winery and we were amazed at how awful the wine was…basically cough syrup. We stared in amazement as a group of French tourists bought several bottles, and we concluded they must have been drunk.

We spent most of the next ten days in our hotel room, leaving once a day for a meal. At one of the places, Jason got to try roasted bat, which was just ok (the wings had the consistency of seaweed). One afternoon, Jason went out and met a local guy, who again wanted to practice his English, and told Jason about some music festival that was happening that afternoon. After an hour, they stopped at a Chinese restaurant for lunch. Incredibly, this guy ordered a meal (not even a cheap one) and had no money to pay for it! Disgusted, Jason refused to pay for him and the owner took the guy’s ID card as collateral until he returned to settle his bill. And it turns out there was no concert that day, but the following week. We both returned to the Chinese restaurant a couple days later for some tasty fried noodles and zebu (beef), and recounted the experience with the owner. He informed us he had no intention of keeping the guy’s ID, but simply wanted him to own up to his mistake first. Not much else happened, although we went out to one of the local clubs and enjoyed some of the local music. The one thing the Malagasys do have is good music, and Jason even purchased a couple CDs by one of the local artists, ‘Firmin.’

Before returning to Tana, we contacted the gendarme and learned that three more robberies had occurred at the same hotel since we had left…unbelievable. By that point, we were just counting down the days and we only had three left in Tana. Before we left, we went to the lemur park, and saw nine different types of lemurs, including the beautiful sifakas and the tiny mouse lemurs, the smallest mammals in the world. At the airport, they would not accept any local currency so we got stuck some ariary/francs. Bizarrely, their currency is double-valued, meaning that each note is printed with two values on it. With the ariary worth five times as much as the franc (e.g., a 1000 ariary note also has 5000 francs printed on it), we speculated it was just another way to rip off tourists. We purchased a couple stamps and came to the realization that even the post office in Ranomafana had tried to rip us off. Save for Jose, pretty much everyone we met tried to screw us in one way or another. As Woody Allen once said, “comedy equals tragedy plus time.” But, writing about it two months after the fact, we still fail to see the humor in this particular instance. Up until the robbery, we had been pretty careful, but unfortunately one bout of carelessness is all it takes. Our guards were on high alert as our next destination was South Africa, one of the most notorious countries for tourists being victimized.

Israel and Jordan

2008-05-22T06:41:00.000-07:00

Israel

Like Laos, neither Israel nor Jordan were on our original itinerary, but for those who don’t follow world news closely, Kenya was in political turmoil after a disputed election in the last week of 2007. Tragically, over 1,000 people were killed and hundreds of thousands were displaced. Moreover, Indian businesses and homes were specifically being targeted since the ‘winner’ of the election had close ties to the Indian community. Ironically, when we were deciding where to travel in Africa, we figured Kenya would be a pretty good choice since it had been one of the most stable countries of the last fifty years. Fortunately for Kenya, albeit too late for the far too many victims, the parties compromised and formed some sort of coalition between the two parties.

Thus, we decided to continue our explorations of the Middle East. Some readers may find our decision to visit Israel due to ‘safety concerns’ a bit odd given the millennia of political turmoil there, and we weren’t too sure ourselves but ultimately we were glad with our choice. Before departing from Egypt, we went through a somewhat laborious process to have them stamp a separate exit card so that we could avoid the Israeli stamp stigma. Continuing with the political turmoil theme, to explain, the only countries in the Middle East that recognize Israel as a country are Jordan, Egypt and Turkey. Therefore, anyone who has any evidence of having visited Israel—not just an Israeli stamp but even an exit stamp at any of the border crossings from neighboring countries—will be denied entrance into any other country in the conflicted region. Since we’d just gotten our passports before this trip, we figured we might want to visit Syria and Lebanon within the next ten years, hence the effort to avoid the stamp (again, some may wonder why bother and the recent escalation of violence in Beirut makes it increasingly unlikely we’d choose to go there within the next decade).. Sometimes border officials aren’t accommodating of such requests but the Egyptians granted our request. So far so good. Upon arriving on the Israeli side, we were ordered to empty all of our bags to have them completely searched by the Israeli immigration officials. They even dumped all of our camera batteries out, causing us much annoyance over the next several weeks as our camera kept dying due to having a mix of charged and non-charged batteries. As anyone who has been to Israel knows, this is standard operating procedure, but for us this was the first time and so quite entertaining. Jason even tried to take a picture but was denied. After determining we were not a threat, they let us through. When Jason approached the next window, he explained to the post-pubescent immigration official that he was traveling onward to Syria and then before he could react she stamped his passport…doh! When he exclaimed, “but I told you I’m going to Syria” she just shrugged and feigned an apology. Apparently, this is not uncommon as Israelis are insulted (understandably) by the policies of their neighbors so take it upon themselves (inexplicably) to keep visitors away. Had we really been going to Syria, Jason would have had to ‘lose’ his passport and acquire a new one, as other travelers we’d met had been forced to do. Priti then very explicitly stated she didn’t want her passport stamped.

After enjoying the best falafel we’ve ever tasted, we boarded a bus to Tel Aviv, after having our bags checked again before entering the bus station, a process we never quite got used to in our short time there. The buses in Israel are incredibly efficient which was a nice change of pace, but with that satisfaction came the discomfort of being surrounded by teenagers armed with automatic rifles, as all Israelis have to serve two years in their army after graduating from high school. We found many of these kids to be quite rude but quickly learned to just get out of their way. Upon arriving in Tel Aviv (on time!) we were shocked to find out that the cheapest lodging in the city was a whopping $65 per night. Having just come from Egypt (and India before that), this was unbelievably expensive. But, we accepted the inevitable and just tried to not think about how the Israel Sheckel has appreciated dramatically against the pathetic US dollar.

We both found Tel Aviv to be one of the hippest cities we’ve visited. The people are very stylishly dressed and there were plenty of good restaurants and places to get our groove on. Seeing all the hipsters so well-dressed led us to ditch some of our drab travel garb and fit into some brand new blue jeans (gasp)! It felt so good to finally re-connect our butts with some comfortable denim and look good doing it too! As has been the case pretty much everywhere, the cabbies were total scammers, and one took us in a big circle, despite having a computerized mapping device on the dashboard. But at least the place he took us too had a great DJ, playing everything from Israeli rock to American R&B.
Jason spent the following day checking out the uninspiring museum, which was basically an introduction to Jewish living, but quickly found the music library where he stocked up on names of classic Klezmer musicians. Mazel tov! Meanwhile, Priti spent the day hanging out at the Mediterranean Sea.

After a couple days, we made the quick dash to Jerusalem. The bus dropped us off right outside the Old City at the Damscus Gate. We found a place inside the Muslim Quarter and explored the narrow winding corridors that have enchanted religious adherents for millennia. Three of the largest religions in the world—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—consider this city one of the holiest in the world. In one day of walking, we saw the Western Wall, the last remaining section of the 2nd Temple that was destroyed by the Romans, and the Via Dolorosa, where Jesus carried the cross on his way to being crucified, again by those dastardly Romans. We learned on a tour that the Western Wall is so revered by Judaism not because it’s the only remaining portion of the Temple, but an underground section of the wall is the closest point Jews can get to the place where God supposedly created the world, the foundation stone or the ‘holiest of the holies’. We also tried to visit the golden Dome of the Rock, the 3rd holiest site in Islam (after Mecca and Medina), but were repeatedly denied because we weren’t Muslims and it had been absurdly closed off to the public since Ariel Sharon visited it in the early noughties. Being an atheist, Jason had mixed feelings about the over-religiosity of the city, but even for us secularists, there are few if any places in the world that have had a greater impact on the history of western civilization than Jerusalem. Each time he saw signs for Mt. Zion, he began to hum Bob Marley’s Iron, Lion, Zion or the Melodians’ Rivers of Babylon. One evening we enjoyed a Jewish folk dance show.

As we walked around one evening, we could not find an ATM machine that would accept our card, so for the first time on the trip, we used our back-up card, only to have it retained by the ATM machine! By that point, it was quite comical because we had almost no money left and suspected we had no way of getting money. But thankfully we managed to find an ATM machine that accepted our primary card, and when we contacted our bank, it turns out the card had expired…the day before we tried to use it! We arranged to have a replacement card sent to Cairo and pick it up on our way out.

After a few days of exploration we rented a car and took a day trip to Masada and the Dead Sea. Masada is an ancient fortress that is another Jewish pilgrimage site due to its historical importance. The fort sits atop a huge mountain and back in the day the only way to reach it was via a steep 3 hour hike but now they have a cable car installed that zips tourists (like us) up in a couple minutes. When Romans were about to sack the fort, the Jewish soldiers committed mass suicide rather than face enslavement by their captors. Movie? After Masada we headed to the Dead Sea, which is the lowest sea in the world and has such a high salinity that no living organisms can survive there. What’s even better is that the buoyancy of the water is so positive that it’s like having a life jacket. We got some great pictures of Jason reclining in the water but of course those were stolen along with our camera. :(

Our next stop was Tiberias, near the Golan Heights, a disputed swath of land that the Syrians claim is rightly theirs. Despite insane petrol prices of nearly $8/gallon, we again rented a car. We tried to do a day hike in one of the national parks but, much to our annoyance, were denied because apparently 1 pm was too late to begin any of their hikes. The next day we headed to Haifa and visited the immaculate Bahai gardens, which are not surprisingly one of the holiest sites of that religion. We couldn’t resist telling the volunteers about how we were featured in their national newsletter for having our wedding pictures taken in front of the Bahai temple in Wilmette, Illinois. The Bihai faith is very embracing of all religions, and adherents do not have to renounce their own faiths to become members. Although their philosophy played a small role in our choice, it was mostly its beauty and location near Lake Michigan. Back in Tiberius, we were hailed by this little old lady who didn’t speak a word of English, but somehow managed to get us to escort her to the bus station. Despite being just down the road, it took us nearly an hour to get there, and on the way she made us stop at the two-sheckel store so she could buy us gifts! Our plan was to have falafel on our final evening in Israel, but we fortuitously stopped at the ‘best shop in town’, according to the other patrons and had these delectable lamb sandwiches and of course the accompanying side salads of grilled eggplant, coleslaw, and peppers. Yum!

Jordan

After stopping for another sandwich, we hopped on a bus to the Jordanian border. The crossing was mostly forgettable except for the incredibly annoying bus driver of the bus we were mandated to take 100 meters(!) to cross the border. Since we weren’t returning, we were short on sheckels, and the guy made a huge deal about it before we gave him a dollar to shut him up. We took a taxi to Irbid, a small city in northern Jordan. We only stayed a night, but had a great chicken swarma dinner and sweets afterwards, and met some very nice locals. We saw skinned sheep heads in some of the store windows but we couldn’t muster the courage to sample this particular local cuisine. The next morning we ventured to Jerash, which is famous for spectacular Roman ruins which unfortunately aren’t very interesting to talk about sans pictures. Since we had our bags with us, we left them at a restaurant and then returned to have a fabulous buffet lunch with lots of scrumptious spreads to go with the fresh pita.

We continued south to Petra, which is one of, if not, the most amazing thing we’ve seen on this trip. It truly has to be seen to be appreciated and although it can conceivably be seen in one day, we recommend taking at least two days to explore it. It was built by an ancient civilization called the Nabataeans in the 3rd century and archeologists believe it was abandoned after a large earthquake. The town of Wadi Musa is unfortunately a tourist trap but we met a cool German named Marco with whom we spent the day exploring the ruins. We awoke early enough to avoid most of the large tour groups and so got to experience the Siq—a stunning two kilometer fissure that serves as the entrance to Petra—in relative solitude. As we came out of the Siq, we caught glimpses of the truly awesome treasury, which is a two-story building adorned with columns yet carved directly into the sandstone. During our explorations we passed dozens of temples and tombs and the rock formations appeared as if they were painted on. He also went on many cool hikes; one in particular was enjoyable, although the three of us eventually got completely off the trail and had to turn around. We met some of the locals who still live in the area and dig for artifacts like old Roman coins. Unfortunately this means that many of the tombs have become outdoor toilets. The next day we hiked all the way to the other end to see the amazing monastery, which was on par with the treasury in terms of the shear-amazement factor. And thankfully the locals left this one clean.

We spent a couple days relaxing in Aqaba, on the other side of the Red Sea. There we met a Spanish woman who had been working in Afghanistan for the past year. Although we admired her courage, we questioned how people could put themselves at such great risk, particularly after we heard how she was basically on house arrest for months months at a time when security the risks were too high. Our plans of taking a ferry back to Egypt were foiled by the weather and so another travel adventure began. In the station, we met two more Americans who were working in Palestine and we split a cab to the Israeli border. Due to their place of employment, the two women had been forced to wait hours at previous border crossings as the Israelis did background checks. Finding that silly, before we left them Jason asked one of the officials how long it would take. Although she looked none too happy with his inquiry, ten minutes later they had their passports and we were on our way. They were both very appreciative of Jason’s special powers. The cabbie of course ripped us off and we had to pay another Israeli exit fee, despite being there for less than thirty minutes.

After some intensive negotiations, we hired a minibus back to Cairo and visited our old familiar spots, including Abu Tareq for some tasty koshary and the patisserie for some delectable sweets. The next day, we went on a wild goose chase to recover Priti’s ATM card, which our bank had sent to a local bank. We also had to find medication for Jason as he had contracted some type of ringworm, most likely from walking the beaches in Goa. Although we had to check four different pharmacies, we managed to find it, and the full dosage was less than $2! Thus ended our time in the Middle East.

Egypt

2008-04-25T06:57:00.000-07:00

The plane from New Delhi took about eight hours and we had a brief stopover in Doha, Qatar. And when we say brief we mean it; as we exited the airplane our connecting flight was announcing last call! We arrived at the Cairo International airport sans a Lonely Planet guide book. Given our recent experiences, we mistakenly thought it would be an interesting experiment to just wing it. We also had not had time to make any reservation so we pretty much had no idea where to go from the airport, consider it LP's revenge after Jason's disparaging remarks in previous posts. Our bewildered looks must have made us an easy target because several hotel touts hounded us and we finally gave in to one who showed us a brochure and quoted us what seemed a reasonable rate. Of course, he then took us to a different hotel that was a dump and we told him to take us to the one on the brochure. When we arrived, the hotel informed us the tout had lied about the price and also had lied about including the transfer from the airport. After arguing with him for much too long, we finally paid him half of what he wanted and told the hotel ‘manager’ to pony up the rest since he was trying to convince us we should just pay him. We planned to check out of the hotel the next day, but our plans were sidetracked by a three-hour tour sales speech from the ‘manager’ from the previous night. We don’t know why we let him waste our time and by the time we checked the other hotel, it was booked up, so we begrudgingly returned to the New Palace Hotel. Although he stuck around for a couple days, the ‘manager’ eventually disappeared from the hotel once he realized we were not going to book a tour through him. In all likelihood, he was a tour agent tout in cahoots with the taxi driver to completely scam us by overcharging us for a tour. When we came to this conclusion, we decided we’d ‘forget’ to return the old guide book they had loaned us.

Despite these initial hassles, we were excited to start a new adventure. Cairo is a city that is one of the most visited in the world because of its ancient history, but it is also a bustling modern metropolis of close to 40 million people. The downtown area, where we were stayed, is lined with cafes where the male locals hang out smoking sheesha (flavored tobacco) out of houkas and drinking unfiltered black tea with lots of sugar (we would later marvel when one Egyptian added five heeping spoonfuls into his cup). The prevalence of smoking amongst males is a staggering 95% and for those like us who loathe 2nd hand tobacco smoke, we just had to grin and bear it. And, although we’ve been exposed to some awful traffic on our travels, Cairo’s was the worst yet because for the first time, as pedestrians, we worried about staying alive as we crossed the street at crosswalks since drivers ignored red lights, pedestrians, and sometimes even sped up as pedestrians crossed. We were thankful but surprised that we didn’t see anyone hit by cars. On the flip side, Cairo is a very safe city and we never felt worried about our safety other than when we had to cross the street. We also enjoyed the music emanating from the cafes and we grew to love Arab music during our six weeks in the Middle East. Finally, we marveled at how ‘clean’ Cairo was, which is a good example of how subjective our perceptions can be; having just arrived from India, the filthiest country in the world, Egypt seemed clean to us, when nearly everyone else remarked how dirty it was. We quickly dove into the local cuisine, and feasted on fresh shwarmas and yummy eggplant. Although the food was pretty good, we couldn’t help but compare it to one of our favorite restaurants in Chicago, Pita Inn. However, the sweets were absolutely delicious, even tastier than in India, and we returned to one of the local pastry shops every night to sample the various culinary treats.

During our time in Egypt, we were inundated with visual and aural expressions of the Islamic faith. One day we explored an area called Old Cairo, where it seemed as if there was an ancient Mosque on every single block. Each morning at about 5 am, the amplified sound of the muezzin asking the faithful to attend prayers at the mosque. Earplugs were thus a necessity for sleep. Friday is their holy day and almost everything, except stores and public transportation, were closed. Plus, since Muslims pray five times a day, we heard the prayers often and since there are so many mosques, at times the city was so loud we wished we could have walked with earplugs. All of the local televisions stop broadcasting during prayer times as well. We visited the Citadel, an ancient fortress that contained an incredibly mosque, a war museum, and great views of the city. Since it was a clear day, we could see the Pyramids even though they were about 10 miles away. In the mosque, it was fascinating to see the faithful embarking in their prayers while hordes of tourists (like us) snapped photographs. The war museum was massive, which is not surprising given Egypt’s long and war-filled history. What was surprising is the way it seemed to glorify war. And, like many of the tourist activities, the movement within the museum was highly controlled by the government, and we had to go through the entire thing in order to get to the exit (i.e., we couldn’t turn around)!

And of course we visited the pyramids of Giza, the only of the seven ancient wonders that are still standing, on a guided day trip along with the ancient city of Memphis and the necropolis of Saqqara. The pyramids, three large and six small, were an amazing sight surrounded by tourists, locals, and camels for hire. Our guide helped us take some hilarious pics, and this one's for all those readers who remember the 80s. We entered the tunnel of one of the large pyramids which was dark, narrow, and stiflingly humid. Two people could barely pass one another and we had to stay hunched over the entire time, save for a brief reprieve in the middle. The people coming out were panting as we were going in and at one point it got so dark and claustrophobic that Priti started turning around but Jason supported her through this exposure therapy process (for professionals only–hah!). After the difficult descent, we reached the center where there was an empty tomb; a bit anti-climactic but still interesting to see. Saqqara is 5000 years old, was originally one huge cemetery, and the tombs are lined with sunrays. Many of the limestones of the tombs were taken to build homes and Mosques in Old Cairo about 4500-5000 years ago and it was sad to see the top of the Step Pyramid at Saqqara was missing its top due to the long-gone thieves. We learned from our guide that statues usually have the left foot forward which means to follow your heart and if they had hands across their chest, this indicated death.

Then we were off to the Egyptian museum, which is so massive that it would take months to see every artifact on display. In addition to its shear size, the place is always jam packed with large tour groups, which make it difficult to maneuver around. Instead, we spent one frenetic afternoon hitting the highlights, including the sarcophagi and death mask of King Tut, which were made out of pure gold. At the Egyptian museum we learned that people were buried with animals for a variety of reasons: as food so they would not starve in the afterlife, as sacrifices to various Gods, and of course as companions (Jason decided he’s taking his cats Billy and Simone with him into the afterlife). Jason bought an extra ticket to see the mummy room, which contains nine bodies and is not for the faint of heart. It was amazing how well-preserved the bodies were and a few of them even still had their hair. The only annoying aspect was that he wasn’t allowed to bring in his camera, even though just about every other person was taking pictures with their cell phones. Afterwards, we walked along the Nile River and enjoyed the view of the many boats.

That evening, a local Egyptian named Khaled helped us change our flight to Kenya (we are no longer going there due to the recent violence). Afterwards, he invited us to tea, smoke sheesa and watch the African Cup match between Egypt and Kenya. Priti was the only woman in the entire café and Egypt won! This was followed by the best food in Cairo called Koshary which is a mix of lentils, pasta, fried onions, and spices. Delicious!!! We found the Egypt had some of the nicest people we’ve met on our trip but at the same time there are a lot of jerks who are always trying to scam tourists. We could list a dozen examples but we’ll just leave it at that.

The next day, we traversed five hours west by bus to Bahariyya Oasis, a haven of green in the middle of the desert. This area was filled with palm trees and Bedouin culture. The desert in Egypt is barren outside of the oases. Nothing grows – no trees, no shrubs, not even weeds. The contrast between an oasis which has palm trees and water to the Egyptian desert is extreme. Tucson, Arizona seems like the Northwest US in comparison to the desert in Egypt! On a 4WD tour, we saw the Salt Lake which has the run-off of agriculture water but there is so much salt in the ground that the water foams at the edge. In the vicinity, Pyramid Mountain is a natural mountain that looks just like one of the pyramids near Cairo. It is famous for dinosaur fossils found there in the early 20th century. Nearby, we found full skeletal remains of a cow. The desert is deadly! Then we went to a camel farm where one of the camels stuck her head over the stone wall and wanted to be petted the entire time. Camels are so cool! The tour guide told us that often, the camel man will feed his camel marijuana so they remain dazed and chill. Maybe that’s why Jason’s camel kept chewing and eating in Jaiselmer, India. Hmmm, makes sense now. We proceeded to Crystal Mountain which was entirely made of quartz crystal rocks. Due to being protected land, we couldn’t pick up any of the crystals although Priti imagined making thousands and thousands of pieces of jewelry from the crystal stones. (Alas, no crystal necklaces as gifts for those at home). It was not that spectacular in the sense of how it looked from afar until you got close to each sparking piece and observed the way the light was reflected on the mountain.

The highlight of the tour, indeed one of the highlights of the entire trip thus far, was the White Desert which is called Sahra al-Beida. This place felt like another planet. Blinding white rock formations were everywhere and came in myriad shapes, some of which were familiar, such as animal profiles and massive mushrooms. They were shaped by wind erosion and were surreal. At sunset the sky was alit and pink and the silhouettes of the white rock formations became even more spectacular. The sand around the white formations, littered with sparkling quartz, gives the landscape the feeling of snow with the sunlight beaming on it eerily at times.

After camping in the desert under the star filled sky, we awoke early the next morning and adventured to the Black Desert. It was wild to see the desert transformed from white to black. The Black desert was formed over a millennia as wind eroded the mountains and spread a fine black powder over the ground. It ended with a small, black volcano shaped mountain, part of a fault that runs through Bahariyya Oasis. We also went to Gebel az-Zuqaq which is a mountain known for red, yellow, and orange streaks in the limestone rock base. It was pretty cool and we took plenty of pictures of all the things that we saw on this excursion. Although we camped in the desert, for those itching to go to Egypt, it can all be seen in a day.

We met some cool people on the 4WD adventure. Christine, a Canadian who currently has been living in Taiwan for three years as an English teacher, shared a story about ghost wives. When a family member loses a young daughter who has not been married, they leave money on the street or something of value like a watch or jewelry. The man who picks it up is then obligated to marry the ghost wife and she even becomes the first wife if he is already married! He has no choice in the matter or else he will be haunted by the female ghost. His family and the ghost wife’s family have an actual wedding ceremony and party. Shangwei, Christine’s Taiwanese boyfriend, refuses to pick anything up from the street. Anyways, Taiwanese people think that the ghost wife and the man who picks up the item of value are somehow linked spiritually and that is why the man is obligated to marry the ghost bride. Linda, a fellow American who has worked in radio with Tavis Smiley and Air America, was recently in India and shared that she became spiritual while in India. She is one of many people who have told us that they found spirituality while in India. She described being in a silent ashram in Northern India and could not speak to anyone, not even her roommate, for 10 days and how during the day, the silent meditation was in a room full of other people. She described being at peace with herself since her ten days of silence. It was hard to imagine being silent for that duration of time. Unfortunately, they left after the first day and our camping companions were a French couple who were just about the least friendly people we’ve met.

After our couple of days in the desert, we started our tour of temples in Egypt. The first stop was the city of Aswan after a miserably long overnight train ride sans reclining seats, even though they were considered first class. (How we missed the trains of India with berths.) Aswan is Egypt’s southernmost city and unlike Cairo, which was having its coldest desert winter in decades, Aswan was warm, toasty, and picturesque with feluccas (traditional Egyptian sailboats) scattered on the Nile River. In ancient times, the city was the crossroads of caravans and a gateway to Africa. Immediately after arriving at our hotel, we were ushered to start the tour of Aswan. Despite how hurried our tour guide seemed, we waited 40 minutes for the van driver. We soon learned that if it was about the tour guide’s or driver’s time, then we should hurry but otherwise, most of the tour guides didn’t care if tourists had to wait. Hence, the tour started an hour later although the tour people kept saying “two minutes” while everyone in the van grumbled. Although we were supposed to visit the High Dam, we were told, due to shortage of time (!), that we would have to see the High Dam tomorrow and today only had time for Temple of Isis at Philae. From the tour guide: Philae means friends or couples. The original island on which the temple of Isis stands became flooded after the Egyptian government opened the High Dam. So then, they moved the entire temple and reconstructed it from 1972-1980! Originally it was built during Alexander the Great era (around 326 BC).

During our many visits to various temples, we learned a lot about the different gods of ancient Egypt and the mythology. One of the more entertaining stories involved an incestuous love between the brother and sister gods Osiris and Isis (goddess of beauty, love and magic). After they fell in love, their older brother became jealous and had a gold coffin made to fit Osiris. This older brother threw a party during which he offered the gold coffin to whoever fit in it. Of course, Osiris fit perfectly, was shut inside of it, and then his body was dismembered into fourteen pieces and discarded throughout Egypt. Isis, grieving over her lover/brother, used her magic to transform her body into a vulture and searched all over Egypt for him. And during that search she gave birth to their son Horus who is symbolized by a hawk due to her form as a vulture. She found 13 of the 14 pieces of Orisis’s body and wept over the very important missing body part, thus causing the flooding of the Nile River. The lost body part of the God Osiris was then symbolized by a giant obelisk, a phallic symbol which is found throughout Egypt.

After visiting the Temple of Isis, we walked through Aswan along the Nile River which flowed from South to North around beautiful boulders and small islands in the river. Because of the flow of the Nile, southern Egypt is referred to as ‘upper’ while northern Egypt is called ‘lower.’ We visited the old Fatimid Cemetery which had a collection of low, mud-brink buildings with domed roofs and mausoleums dating from the 9th century. This was followed by a wonderful riverside dinner and then a short visit to the Nubia Museum where we learned about Nubian culture.

We had to wake up at 4 am the next day so we went to bed fairly early. So far on this world-wind adventure, we often have opted to do things on our own if we can. In Egypt, however, to travel to specific sites you have to be part of a convoy, an armed police escort, whether you are part of a tour group or hire a private taxi to the site of interest. This was the government’s response to a bombing of a tourist bus near Aswan which resulted in many deaths and the decline of the tourist economy. So the 3:45 am wake-up call from the hotel was not by choice but due to the 4:30 am departure time of the convoy to travel a few hours to the site of Abu Simbel where the majestic temples of Ramses II and Hathor were located. It was dark in the morning and all the tour buses, minibuses, and private taxis lined up alongside the main road with a police escort sandwiching both ends. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to sleep in the minivan since the driver disregarded lane lines around curves and despite all the vehicles having the same destination, the driver would quickly and sharply pass tour buses and minivans. The only thing redeeming about the transportation was the spectacular desert sunrise, the second of half a dozen sunrises in Egypt we would see.

First, we went to the Temple of Ramses II, carved out of a mountain on the bank of the Nile River between 1274 and 1244, and rediscovered in the early 1800s when a Swiss explorer noticed a statues’ head sticking out of the sand in the Egyptian desert. Ramses II must have been a narcissist since as a Pharaoh, he deified himself and built this gigantic temple for himself and the ancient Egyptian gods Raharakhty, Amum, and Ptah. Ramses II had many, many wives and numerous children which often provoked the joke amongst Egyptian men when they tried to sell male tourists essential oils, that he would become like Ramses II. On the outside of the temple, there are four huge statues of Ramses II, three of which are completely intact. Inside the temple, there are more statues of the deified Pharaoh and Jason surreptitiously took a picture and was scolded by the ‘picture police’ who ignored the locals taking pictures with their mobile phones. The reliefs on the walls of the temple depict the pharaoh Ramses II in various battles, trampling over his enemies, and always victorious. At the back of the temple, the four gods sit on thrones and supposedly, every Feb 22 and Oct 22, the sunrise rays penetrate through the temple and illuminate the god of RaHarakhty, Amun, Ptah, and Ramses II. We were there about a week too early to see this phenomenon but we were told the place is an absolute zoo on those dates. Next we saw the Temple of Hathur which is next to the Temple of Ramses II. There was another ‘photo cop’ who seemed to target only foreign tourists but not the locals. This temple was magnificent and had statues of Ramses II’s Queen Nefertari and the gods Hathor (merciless god depicted as a cow) and Mut (god of Sky).

After seeing both of these temples, we waited for the entire convoy and headed back toward Aswan. At around noon, we went to the dock and boarded our felucca for a two night sailing adventure. We learned that the four Chinese people already on the boat had waited for three hours to start sailing, complained to their tour agency and received a partial refund. We tried to not let this alter our excitement about sailing yet we were assertive in terms of seeing the sights that were promised to us by the travel agent. First, we went to Kitchener Island on the Nile River. This island was a beautiful botanical garden with blooming bougainvilleas, roses, and other colorful flowers. It was peaceful walking around the island and watching the feluccas sail along the river. Later, we sailed around Elephantine Island which has a group of grey granite boulders that look like elephants bathing in the Nile River. On this island, we visited the ruins of Nebu from around 3000 BC which had temples, cemeteries, and a Nilometer which was used to measure the height of the Nile and to indicate if the harvest would be bountiful. The Nilometer affected the taxation system; the higher the river, the better the harvest and the higher the taxes on the merchants in ancient times.

After visiting those sites, we had some smooth sailing down the Nile and beheld this amazing sunset. We engaged with the sailors and fellow tourists, enjoying the breeze and the blue water of the Nile River. We slept overnight on the felucca and were relieved to not be woken up to the sound of the amplified voice of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. On our second day, we spent more time along the dock than sailing and in retrospect we would recommend doing only one night on the felucca and not the two nights like we did. On the felucca, Priti witnessed two more sunrises, making the total of sunrises seen in Egypt more than those seen in the last seven months of travels. Although Jason was annoyed about the lack of sailing on the second day, Priti enjoyed the sun and almost finished reading a four hundred page novel, Family Matters by Rohinton Mistry (highly recommended reading).

During the day, one of the sailors anchored near his Nubian village and at his home, we had a milk coconut tea which was delicious. We walked around the village which has yellowish mud colored homes and the exterior walls are painted with domestic designs and of Egyptian men riding on donkeys, flowers, and other cultural images. At night, we were disappointed to anchor next to a cement set of stairs instead of an isolated sandy bank area of the river. This however enabled Jason to hang out with the felucca workers on shore and watch the Egypt win the African cup for the second time in a row and seventh time overall. Priti opted to stay on the boat despite being a football fan and knew Egypt had won once the honking of horns were heard from the vehicles of the nearby town. For the remainder of our time in Egypt, Jason would shout out the names of the two star players (Abutrika & Zidane) when he wanted to make a connection with the locals.

The following morning, after a fitful, cold night of sleep on the felucca, we woke up again at the crack of dawn and took a jeep to the ancient site of the Temple of Kom Ombo, which is along the Nile River but different from other temples because everything is doubled and perfectly symmetrical. In ancient times, this area of the Nile used to have crocodiles basking on the river banks and the temple has mummified crocs. After walking around and imagining ancient Egpyt, we headed to the parking lot where we were required by the Egyptian government to travel again by convoy to Edfu to see the Temple of Horus which is supposedly the most well-preserved one in Egypt. This temple was started in 327 BC and wasn’t completed until 57 BC by Cleopatra’s father. (And we thought construction in the USA was slow!)

After checking out the site, we were again herded by convoy to Luxor. This time, due to the position of our vehicle, we could actually see the police escorts. We weren’t sure if traveling in a convoy actually makes tourists more or less of a target but since Eygpt started requiring convoys, there have been no attacks against tourists. By the time we reached Luxor, it was mid-afternoon and we were starving, ate an awful babbaganoush at the hotel, and headed to see the ancient Temple of Karnak through a pre-arranged tour. This place was huge and everything was on a gigantic scale. It was built and added to for 1500 years and one of the most important places of worship during ancient Egypt. Almost every Pharoah left their mark here. The temple contained an enormous hall, “The Great Hypostyle Hall,” with a forest of 134 unbelievably huge papyrus shaped stone columns. These stone columns are bigger than any we have ever seen. Although we didn’t try it, it would take half a dozen people to circle their hands around one column. There is a paved avenue of ram-headed sphinxes that at one time connected all the way to Luxor temple which is 3 km away. This temple also contains the tallest obelisk in Eygpt at almost 30 meters. Plus, there is a large stone statue of a scarab beetle and our tour guide explained that the scarab beetle is a sign of good luck and encouraged us to walk around it – once for good luck, three times for marriage and seven times for a first child. Inexplicably, we didn’t walk around it, so hopefully that doesn’t cause bad luck, the ruin of our marriage or a barren marriage.

The day was long and we were worn out. We fell asleep early and despite wearing earplugs, we were woken up at 5am to the blaring sound of the nearby mosque. The decibel level was absurdly loud and it sounded like someone was holding a megaphone in our ears. Another typical Eygptian morning and another Egyptian tour. This time we drove to the West Bank of the Nile River and passed by fields of sugarcane that were strikingly green in comparison to the desert, golden-brown barren mountains in the backdrop. Locals were riding Siwa-style transport which are donkey drawn wooden carts on wheels.

Our first destination was the Valley of the Kings which is a collection of more than sixty separate tombs of Kings built deep into the mountains. It is located in the desert valley where nothing grows and the former Kings hoped that no one would be able to find and steal the treasures buried in their tombs. Our ticket stupidly allowed us to choose only three of the tombs. Together we saw the Tomb of Tuthmosis III. We had to climb a steep staircase in a steep ravine and meandered through a series of passages at odd angles in order to reach the tomb. The walls were adorned with paintings, some of which resembled stick figures drawn by a five-year-old. Together we also visited Ramses III’s tomb. We then split up and Priti thought Ramses I wthe best whereas Jason thought the Ramses IV was the best, because the entire ceiling was beautifully painted, and reminded him of the Sistine Chapel. No pictures were allowed so we bought a set of photos from one of the vendors. Next was the site of Deir al-Bahri, which was an amazing series of terraces of the Temple of Hatshepsut (a powerful female pharaoh) rising out of the limestone cliffs of the mountains. We also visited some of the tombs of the non-royalty, which were not quite as impressive but were very well-preserved. In the evening, we went shopping which was rather annoying as the shop guys were relentless in their attempts to entice you into their stores. Priti bought some pendants as gifts and Jason bought a scrabe beetle ring that is supposed to bring good luck. Then we went to Luxor Temple at night which was all lit up and mesmerizing to behold.

We were pretty tired from all the traveling so we opted out of a 15 hour bus ride around the Sinai peninsula and took an overpriced boat across instead. On the boat, when it started raining, we realized Jason had left his rain gear in India…doh! No wonder his bags had been so much easier to pack up. Our first stop on Sinai was Hurghada, which is a glaring example of tourism run amok (and in Egypt that is saying a lot). Dozens of unfinished hotels littered the beaches and the coral reefs were in awful shape. We went on a few dives, which were the cheapest thus far ($35 for two plus lunch on the boat) but the dumb divemaster took us to a spot with a strong current going against us. We ended up getting stuck there for over a week because the ferry across the water got cancelled twice and doesn’t run everyday. At least we met some cool locals (who in reality were a quartet of conmen but spared us since we made it clear we weren’t going to buy anything) who showed us a good time at the local belly dancing club. We learned that Egypt is sort of the flip side of SE Asia, in that young male prostitutes hire themselves out to hordes of older European women. For some strange reason, the converter we normally used did not work in our hotel but another bulky (and heavy) converter that Jason had used while studying in Oxford, did work. This marked the last remaining unused item that we had brought with us on the trip, and Jason was mighty thankful that he hadn’t thrown it away.

Ten days later, we finally made it to Sharm El-Sheikh, which is uncannily similar to Vegas and became famous after a big terrorist attack there in 2002. Jason spent a night at the casino playing poker. Interestingly, not only was the game played with US $, but Egyptian pounds were not even usable at the casino. He was going good until a Russian mafia goon showed up with a huge diamond studded cross hanging around his neck and a wad of cash worth at least $10,000. It only took one expensive hand of being bullied by this thug for him to walk away from the table. Throughout our time in Sinai, almost all of the locals complained about the nouveau riche Russians because of their obnoxious drinking and disregard for the underwater environment. We wanted to go on another dive but when we showed up at the dive center in the morning, it was completely chaotic and they had no certifications to show they were qualified. Of course we had already paid part of it so rather than waste our entire day fighting with them to give it back, we went out on the boat to snorkel. The coral was superb but the water was freezing cold.

We left after a couple days to Dahab, another popular dive spot on the Red Sea but with a much cooler vibe. Jason did some of the best dives yet, including a deep dive down a narrow canyon called the Bells, due to the frequency with which inexperienced divers bang their tanks against the walls during the descent. He also took an excursion to the world-famous Thistlegorm wreck dive, a British casualty from WWII. The dives themselves were incredible, particularly the penetration dive, which involved swimming through the wreck past rows of jeeps, motorcycles, and guns. One room was so narrow that we could only swim through one at a time, and buoyancy control was essential as the clearance above and below was less than a meter. There was also one section where an air pocket had been created above the water, which was cool to see but Jason wisely left his regulator in rather than try to breathe the air. Unfortunately, everything other than the dives was a mess. They put us all on a boat but had nowhere to sleep so we all were sleep-deprived before the dive. Then, the waters were very turbulent and about 1/3 of the passengers got sick on the boat. Because it is one of the most popular dives sites in the world, there were many other boats as well. When we ascended after the first dive, we had to swim underneath another boat which was bobbing up and down with the waves, at times just barely missing the divers underneath. Getting out of the water onto the boat was a total nightmare and one poor woman actually vomited into her regulator (ewww). My dive buddy on the first dive, like many others, decided to forgo the 2nd dive, which was a shame because that was the penetration dive and by far the best. Thus, inexperienced divers should think twice about going to this dive site because it is pretty expensive and the groups are too big. Actually, it seemed like a recipe for disaster but thankfully everything went off without a hitch…this time.

With the extra few weeks we had by pushing back our Kenya flight, we decided to visit Israel and Jordan, so stay tuned.

India, part 3

2008-04-07T09:05:00.000-07:00

We arrived in New Delhi from Jaiselmer after twenty hours on the train, which surprisingly was not that bad. The Second Class 3AC overnight train had six berths in a compartment and provided bedding and blankets. Despite being tired, we were excited to see Priti’s mother Premlata (she goes by Lata) after so many months. Lata had arrived in New Delhi the previous day and was staying with Chuni Auntie (in India, elders are referred to as ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’), a cousin of Priti’s father and a great friend. After meeting the family German Shepard named Kush, which means ‘happy’ in Hindi, the reunion was warm and relaxing. As is common among the middle class, they had live-in servants, and we were treated to our favorite Indian dishes. In addition, in India, the family is an extended one. So the three-bedroom condo consisted of Chuni Auntie, her husband and their married son and daughter-in-law. Their other daughter, who had a beautiful baby girl a week after we left (congrats!) lived with her husband three stories down in the same building. During these few weeks we met so many wonderful people and although we don’t remember everyone’s names, we will always remember how they went to every length to ensure that we were enjoying our visit. Thank you!

We didn’t do any sightseeing in New Delhi and saved that for another trip to India. The following day began the journey with Priti’s Mom to Varanasi (or Benares, another Indian city with two names). This journey involved another overnight train on which we met a French woman who’d ridden Kingfisher (Jason’s camel on the Jaiselmer, Rajasthan safari) the day after our safari and we had a pleasant evening exchanging some of our travel stories.

We arrived in Benares and were greeted at the train station by friends who quickly became like family. Benares is the holiest city in India and Hindus pilgrimage there throughout the year and it is believed that all the Hindu Gods have set foot in Benares and bathed in the mighty Ganga (or Ganges) river, which is considered the source of life in Hinduism. We visited several temples which were jam-packed with worshippers. We then took a boat ride along the holy river and, as is customary, we sprinkled water from the river onto ourselves before eating. Many Hindus’ dying wish is to have their ashes sprinkled in the Ganga River. As we headed up the river, we passed along dozens of ghats, which are steps leading down to the river. It was fascinating yet disgusting to see the many uses people had of the river, including washing machine, toilet, and yes, even water fountain. Several of the ghats are used for cremation ceremonies and we witnessed the cremation of several bodies from the boat. Although the air was smoky, it did not smell of burning flesh. We were fortunate to go on the boat ride because the following day, all the captains went on strike due to new higher boatmen’s license fees being imposed by the city government. On the way home, we stopped for some mythai and got the best carmel barfi we’ve ever had.

Benares is a city of small streets that curve and angle every which way like a maze, and it is easy to get lost in the narrow alleys which is part of the fun. Down these alleyways, there are multitudes of street vendors selling just about anything and scooters weaving their way through the crowds of people and the revered cows. Cars are too wide to fit down the alleys. Priti and her mother had a harrowing experience with an angry bull that was bucking and running down a gulley. Priti ran into a strangers’ home and her mother ran into a nearby hotel for shelter. Although we both were frightened at the time, we laughed about it later. We’re pretty sure this cow was the same one that chased after our fellow globetrekkers Paul and Sapna just a few months earlier since it happened very close to the hotel at which they had stayed.

Although we would recommend that everyone who visits India should go to Benares, please be forewarned that tourists get hounded by touts all the time. We were unfortunate to have one following us, trying to get us to book a room at a hotel. Despite the insistence of both Priti and her mother in Hindi, he continued to follow us and stated in Hindi, “Madam, you may be Indian but your husband is a foreigner. So I am working for him,” meaning that he could potentially make some money from Jason. After an hour of being followed, Priti was fed up, yelled at the guy and with the help of a local resident who stepped out of his home, the tout finally left us alone. Later that evening, we saw the Ganga puja, a religious ceremony on the outdoor ghats during which six Hindu priests standing on platforms perform rituals of worship to honor the Ganga River that involve burning ghee (purified butter), incense, ringing bells, and chanting. Although at first the clanging sounded discordant, after awhile it became very hypnotic and peaceful. We began to understand how many of the other travelers we had met claimed to have found their spiritual awakening in India.

The days spent in Benares were filled with exploration of the mazelike gulleys, eating delicious home-cooked Indian meals, stuffing our faces with Indian sweets, and listening to classical Indian music. Not only is Benares one of the holiest cities in India but it is also the sitar and tabla (Indian drums) capital. Jason took some tabla lessons but was barely able to get through the first lesson. However, he vowed to dust off the tablas when we returned to Tucson. (Gee-gee-tee-tee-gee-gee-na-na Kee-kee-tee-tee-gee-gee-na-na). On a couple evenings, we attended classical Indian music concerts. Jason went out by himself one evening and, upon returning around midnight, found the entrance gate was locked. The night guard did not speak English but after some hand gestures Jason realized he wanted some money to let him in. After being let in, Jason handed him a 50-rupee note and planned to report him to our host. To our utter amazement, the guard showed up the following morning expecting us to give him more gifts for his generosity the previous evening!

About ten kilometers north of Benares, the ancient town of Sarnath is one of the four main Buddhist pilgrimage sites because it is the place where Buddha taught his disciples. We hired an auto to take us to the main sites, including the place where Buddha allegedly gave his first lecture. We also visited the five main Buddhist temples which are replicated in the architectural styles of five countries with large proportions of Buddhists: Japan, China, Tibet, Burma, and Thailand (which is still under construction). The Nepalese Buddhist temple had awesome mandala paintings on the ceilings while the Japanese temple had wooden sculptures and serene gardens. The Burmese temple was probably the most interesting since it is highly unlikely that the political situation will become amenable to tourists during our lifetimes.

On our last day in Benares, we went to the Benares University Museum which houses ancient statues of Hindu gods and goddesses, a collection of miniature paintings, and paintings from a German artist who fell in love with Benares in the 1950s. After exploring this museum, which is excellent, we went on a shopping spree. During our travels we have been pretty disciplined about not shopping, mostly because we have no space in our backpacks. However, upon Priti’s request, her mother had brought an empty suitcase to India which we filled with souvenirs and other items of interest. Both Priti’s mom and Priti splurged and bought custom designed silk bed sets.

Our next adventure started the following day as we waited at the Benares train station for two hours for the train to Putna, where Priti and her mother have family. To be perfectly honest, there is no other reason to visit Putna. Anyways, the train ride which was scheduled to be five hours took seven plus. Perhaps this explains it....('moooooove', we shouted, but to no avail). At half past midnight we arrived at the Putna train station, greeted by a couple of Priti’s father’s cousins who then showed us tremendous hospitality at their home. Dinner was prepared and served at one am in the morning! This Uncle and Auntie were renting a flat while their home was being constructed and apologized repeatedly for the cramped quarters. Despite their hospitality, the next day while Priti’s mother stayed with family, Priti and Jason checked into a hotel. It had nothing to do with the cramped quarters but the nausea inducing squatter toilet was too much to handle.

In Putna, we met many relatives – uncles, aunts, cousins and more cousins. On the way to Divakar and Dilip Uncles’ home, the auto-walla (three wheeled open taxi person) got lost. A man dressed in beige on a motorcycle stopped us and asked if we needed help. He then proceeded to escort us to our Uncle’s residence. Later we learned that this kind man was a police officer and he was concerned, that with a foreigner (Jason) in the auto, that we might be taken advantage of. The hospitality of our family was unbelievable. We were offered and served cups of chai (Indian tea), sweets, and delicious food and great conversation. Priti’s autistic cousin rubbed her arm and repetitively and affectionately called her ‘Thithee’ (respectfully older sister). Jason tried in vain to learn the rules of cricket while playing with some cousins. Priti’s cousins, all of whom were teenagers or young adults, were educated in English and conversed with Jason without the requirement of a translator.

Conversing with Ankita, one of Priti’s cousins was interesting because she finished taking high school exams and described studying for them like a college student who pulls all-nighters. In India, there is a lot of pressure and academic competition. Only 16 years old, Ankita wants to be an Engineer - most likely. She’s a teenager who speaks about Hindi film stars but also talks about her future career as though she is an adult. From her and other female cousins, we learned more about how the Dowry system continues to be ingrained in the Bihari Indian culture.

Putna is in the state of Bihar, which is the most “backwards” and least educated state in all of India. It also has a reputation of being one of the most corrupt states too. Dowry, although illegal, is a sexist practice of the bride’s family giving money and “gifts” to the groom’s family in order to have their daughter married. Often, the dowry can be the family’s life savings and can result in poverty. One cousin of marriageable age had a potential match but the groom’s family was asking for a Maruti car in addition to lots of money and gifts of gold jewelry and silk saris. This cousin has a college education and earns good money. Unfortunately, in Bihar and other parts of India, women are often viewed as a financial burden. For example, many families cry after the birth of a baby girl but celebrate after the birth of a baby boy. Needless to say, in our opinion the dowry system is horrible. Neither of us understand how Hindus worship Goddesses yet the Indian culture treats women like they are second class citizens. This has created a country where, unlike the majority of the world, the population of men exceeds that of women. Furthermore, although India is beautiful, exotic, and hospitable in many ways, it also has a history of female infanticide, bride burning and sati (when a widower throws or is thrown onto her husband’s burning pyre).

The following day, Jason and Priti explored Putna on their own. There wasn’t much. At a nearby park, we briefly watched a cricket match. For those of you, like us, who have never understood or cared about cricket, it is the national sport of India. In most countries, when we pass by fields the children play football (soccer) but in India, all the kids play cricket. There was a huge scandal while we were there because an umpire made a controversial call that allowed the Aussie team to extend their batting and nearly cost India the match. After watching the game, we went to the Mahatma Ghandhi Museum which was small but interesting. Below is a great quote from a great man.The bookshop had many great books and Ghandhi had ensured that his books would not be sold for a profit. Priti bought his autobiography for less than one US dollar while Jason picked up The Essence of Hinduism. We both recently read his autobiography and though he was no doubt an incredible person and led India's independence movement, he was also very eccentric and espoused some practices which neither of us found remotely palatable (e.g., bramacharya). That evening, we celebrated Priti’s birthday at the Bellpepper Restaurant where the tandoori chicken in an Afghani curry sauce was divine.

The following day, our last in Putna, the rain was coming down in torrents. After gorging at the same restaurant for lunch with Lata, we walked along the puddle filled streets for nearly an hour looking for an auto-walla. The three of us finally squeezed into the open three-wheeled auto and held down the plastic “window curtains” in a hopeless attempt to not get even more drenched than we already were. Having recently gotten over a two-month bout of bronchitis, Jason was particularly worried. Forty-five minutes later, we arrived at our Uncle’s home where we were greeted warmly with blankets and they started a fire in a large, movable metal container with hot coals and wood. In India, no one has heaters or central heating. Although we appreciated their concern, the smoke quickly filled the house and became suffocating. After spending another day and night conversing and indulging in good Indian food with extended family, we said our goodbyes and got into an auto to the train station. The auto broke down three times along on the way within the first five minutes and we were nervous about missing the overnight train to Priti’s mother’s town/village of Purnia. Thankfully, it was only drizzling and we ditched the first auto-Walla and caught a large share-auto that was heading to the train station. About 20 minutes later, we reached the Putna Train Station but had to walk about 100 meters in the light rain and avoid massive puddles in the dimly lit road. Finally we boarded the train, relieved that we had 15 minutes to spare until departure time and we laughed at how we could have easily missed the train.

There was a Swiss traveler in our compartment who told us about a recent harrowing experience. A Nepalese man befriended him in Jaipur, and then followed him to A gra but acted like it was a coincidence. This man then showed him around town and treated him to meals and entertainment. They had dinner in his hotel room and after it was served the Nepalese man started stirring around the Swiss man’s food. He quickly began to feel ill and thus didn’t finish his meal. For the rest of the evening, he alternated between passing out and retching. The Nepalese “friend” returned to the hotel room to make sure his Swiss friend was alright and then left. The next morning the Swiss man awoke to realize that he had been robbed of about $1000 dollars and his train ticket to Calcutta was gone. Initially, he believed that it was the hotel restaurants’ staff that had put something in his food. When he went to the restaurant, however, he learned that the staff who had eaten his leftover lamb curry had gotten sick too. Later, the Swiss traveler put it together that he had been drugged and robbed by his “friend.” Lata was amusingly frank with this guy and told him “I’m sorry to talk like this but you’re not very smart.” A few words of advice on traveling: NEVER TRUST ANYONE (sad but true).

At 5:30 am, we arrived at the Katihar Train Station and were greeted by Priti’s cousin. We all got into the Tata SUV and drove in the pre-dawn darkness to Priti’s maternal Uncles’ (Mama in Hindi) homes. The shops were closed and the people, mostly farmers, were starting to wake up and stretch outside their huts. Some kids were also awake at this ungodly hour getting ready for their farming chores. The huts were made of criss-crossed thatched plant material mixed with mud and the roofs were thatched dried long leaves of a native plant. Cows were attached to posts and stood in the small yards of the villagers. Priti’s two Mamas (maternal uncles) and their families live in homes attached to each other with a shared front yard like a traditional extended family in India. We were exhausted from so many overnight train rides within the last week so we slept while Lata excitedly caught up with her two brothers’ families. The last time she had seen her family was eight months ago when she attended her nephew’s wedding. She was pleased to learn that the newlyweds were expecting a baby.

Purnia was “real India” in the sense that it was completely off of the beaten track. Jason was the only white person in town and most likely the entire provincial area. Family members recalled a “white person” being in their nearby village maybe 40-50 years ago! Priti and her Mom were surprised and disheartened to learn that the bride of eight months was practicing purdah at the demand of her husband (Priti’s cousin). Purdah is when the woman of the household, usually recently married, doesn’t show her face to strangers. This requires her to stay within the family compound and to not venture outside of the home. It is most often practiced in rural areas. Although Lata observed Purdah, that was forty years ago and she no longer approves of this outdated and oppressive practice. As mentioned previously, Bihar is in a time warp in terms of women’s rights. This new bride did almost all the chores and cooking with some help from her mother-in-law. Although she described being content to practice purdah, it was apparent that she missed going outside and would stand at the doorway when Priti and her teenage cousin Puja played badminton in the front courtyard. Priti suggested that they switch clothes and exchange positions, to which her cousin laughed and said that it was impossible. However, on our final day, at Lata's behest (and since she is the oldest she gets to call the shots), the outdated practice of Purdah was momentarily suspended as the entire family went outside to take pictures (see above picture).

During those several days, Jason followed in Gandhi's footsteps and fasted in order to avoid the squatting toilet (to no avail). There was also no hot shower, though there was a bathroom with a shower area and faucets but no Western shower head. Bathing required heating a large bucket of water, mixing it with cold water until it was bearable to touch, and then using a large ladle to pour water over yourself and alternate with using soap. This is called an Indian “bucket shower.” It is usually the norm in any Indian household even if the family has wealth. Hotels, however, often have the American standard shower with low water pressure and one always has to ask if they have hot water from the shower. If not, then it’s another bucket shower.

The days in Purnia were lazy ones. We played Karem board, talked, watched TV, ate, and slept. It was fun for Priti to listen to her family members tell her stories about themselves and of her mother. Meanwhile, Jason and Priti’s youngest cousin Prince played old school Nintendo games like Super Mario Bros. and Contra, although for the life of him Jason couldn’t recall the code that would have given us 99 lives (up-down-up-down-left-right-left-right-a-b-a-b-start?). Granted, doing anything that required electricity was hit or miss. Often, in the middle of a Bollywood movie, there would be a brownout. Usually, the power would come back within a few hours.

One day, we all drove 45 minutes east of Purnia to visit Priti’s grandparents in their village. Although the house they have lived in most of their lives is dilapidated, they refuse to move in with their sons. Priti’s Nana (grandfather) is a farmer, still has his wits about him, and continues to oversee his 100 acres of farmland. Some of the organic crops he grows include mangoes, sugarcane, bananas, wheat, rice, potatoes and other vegetables. Nanee, (grandmother) unfortunately, has dementia so when she visits her sons’ homes becomes more confused so we somewhat understood why they wanted to remain in familiar surroundings . Luckily, they have servants to help them with basic daily needs. We all were very excited to see Priti’s grandparents who were thrilled to finally meet Jason. Nana tried talking to Jason in his Bajpuri dialect and soon learned that Jason did not understand a single word and Priti only understood half of what he was saying. (The dialect is different from the language of Hindi but has some words in common.) Priti’s mom was excited to see how the crops were doing and she even picked some potatoes in the fields. Those curried potatoes were delicious that night too! Too bad it wasn’t mango season since that is both of our favorite fruit. We also watched as workers placed the cut rice stalks from a large mound through a machine that separates the rice grains to be stored and sold by the family. While we were there, some thieves stole about 80 kilos of potatoes during the night.

On the last day in Purnia, the atmosphere was sad as we said goodbye to our family and left for the train station to take yet another long overnight journey to New Delhi. This time, however, we are on one of the best trains in India called the Rajdhani Express which provides bedding for the berths, food service and Western facilities. And for once, all three of us were in the same compartment. We were served a pretty good vegetarian dinner and tea for dinner. In addition, Jason was relieved to find that the Rajdhani Express had a western toilet and ample t.p. After the 20 hour train ride, we reached the New Delhi Train Station. We said a brief good-bye to Lata since she opted to stay with family in New Delhi versus going to see the Taj Mahal, and then got on another train to Agra. No trip to northern India is complete without seeing the Taj Mahal in Agra. After our arrival there, we quickly found a hotel and watched the sunset from the rooftop which provided a pretty good view of the Taj. Unfortunately, Agra was cold and since the hotel didn’t have heat, we were very cold and uncomfortable that night despite the blankets covering us.

The following day, we planned to go to the Taj Mahal separately and then meet inside of the compound. Taj Mahal is surrounded by a fortified wall which has two entrance points. In India, foreigners have to pay 850 rupees ($21) to enter the Taj whereas Indians only pay 20 rupees. Based on Sapna’s suggestion, Priti decided that since she was born in India, she was Indian and should therefore get the locals discount. She dressed up in her Indian clothes and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She looked so Indian that a foreigner took a picture of her in front of the Taj Mahal. Yet, she got questioned not only by the ticket vendor, but the ticket taker, and the security person about where she was born (Baroda, India), where her family was from (Purnia, Bihar), where she lived in India (Ghaziabhad with her relatives near New Delhi which was partly true), and even what was her address in India which spilled off of her tongue easily since she had memorized her cousin’s address. So Priti somehow managed to pay 20 rupees to see the Taj Mahal. Shockingly, Jason managed to get in for free. He had to deposit his electronic goods at security with the exception of the camera and then walked past security. No one stopped him and Jason didn’t even know that he had gone through the entrance until he met Priti in the courtyard at which point she described her interrogation, and he replied with, “The entrance was out there? I thought it was actually to go into the Taj Mahal.” Somehow Jason, “the Foreigner” managed to get into Taj Mahal compound for free and Priti, “the Indian” paid 20 rupees, a mere fifty cents! Haha, suckers!

Anyways, the Taj Mahal is grand and awe inspiring, even for Priti who was seeing it for the third time. The gardens are immaculate and the cleanest grounds that both Priti and Jason have seen in all of India. It was the last sight seen in India before we headed back to New Delhi to see Priti’s mom and family. Then, the following day, we continued on our travels by flight to Cairo, Egypt.

Rajasthan

2008-03-19T06:52:00.000-07:00

Following a long sleep-deprived night, we were dropped off at the side of some busy road in Mumbai where a string of autos were waiting to feast on the new arrivals. Another woman, also on her way to the airport, was getting hassled so Priti stepped in and started yelling at them in Hindi and demanded a much more reasonable price for the three of us. We had learned from Sapna that the only surefire way to get a response from many of the people is by yelling at them, and unfortunately we had to resort to this tactic on more than one occasion. At the airport, we were impressed how easy it was to purchase the tickets, in cash no less. Imagine trying to do that in the States. The one-hour flight to Udaipur on Kingfisher Airlines was nice. The auto into town was an interesting ride, as the streets were incredibly narrow and the driver had to stop several times and back up to let the oncoming vehicle squeeze by. We walked around for awhile and found a guesthouse with a nice view of the Lake Palace. Unfortunately, the hot water did not work and the bathroom window was broken, giving a full-on view to the adjacent hotel. When we complained, they put us into a much better room the following day. This room was beautiful with hand painted motifs on the walls, stained glass windows, and a window seat so close to one of the temples that we could nearly reach out and touch it, all for 300 rupees ($7.50).

After enjoying thalis (4-5 different vegetarian dishes with rice and/or bread) for breakfast), we walked around the maze-like city of Udaipur, where winding roads veered off into alleyways about as wide as one car. Yet, despite the size of the roads, we still saw a few SUVs. There were many cows on the roads as well, and we saw them cause several traffic jams. We noticed people would stop and give them mythai (me-tie=sweets), and Jason was jealous when he saw on lucky cow chomping on a handful of ladoos. Our first sight was a nearby Hindu temple; inside were a group of mostly older women sitting on the floor, chanting bhajuns (worship songs) in front of a black avatar of Shiva. In the afternoon we visited the City Palace. As we neared the entrance, another tourist randomly handed us two tickets…score! Like the city itself, the palace felt like a maze. Each of the scores of rooms we visited was an interior decorator’s dream come true, adorned with antiques, hand-painted ceilings, and magnificent views.On our way back to our room, we listened to a local musician playing a Rajasthani stringed instrument at one of the lakeside ghats, which are platforms with steps leading down to the water. Jason put a down payment on a CD because he wanted to hear it first since it was just a copied disc. We agreed if we liked it we’d buy it but if not, we’d get our money back. As we ate an uninspiring dinner in the guesthouse restaurant, we tried listening to it but only a few of the tracks actually contained music. When we saw him again the following day, he had just made another sale to an older couple. When Jason explained the problem the musician became very defensive. The female tourist snidely remarked, “who cares, it’s only 300 rupies” to which Jason immediately offered to sell it to her for that price, which she of course declined. The musician wasn’t going to return our money until Priti started to raise her voice in Hindi, after which he held up his end of our agreement.

We meandered through the town, repeatedly losing our way while looking for the classic car collection of the local Raj (prince). The cars were pretty interesting, and one of them reminded Jason of the classic 1919 Rolls Royce his grandfather used to own. The collection also included the car James Bond drove in the movie Octopussy, which is screened every single night in most of the guesthouses in town. Somehow, we managed not to see it. The visit was also educational because we got to see some of the solar-powered vehicles that are growing in popularity in what is coming to be called the “green city.” For some reason, each of the cities in Rajasthan, like the so-called revolutions in the former Soviet Republics, has a designated color. At the conclusion of the tour, we enjoyed our complimentary soft drink; amusingly, the tickets read “Soft drinks with a touch of class.” That evening we attended a Rajasthani dance concert, and were again mesmerized by the feats of the dancers, including one woman balancing 10 bowls on her head while dancing on broken glass.

The next day we hired a driver to take us first to Fort Kumbhalgarh and then Ranakpurgh. During the long ride, we envied the future tourists who would take this day-tour after the road crews completed the paved road. Fort Kumbhalgarh is a massive now-abandoned fort that was once a key part of the Rajput empire. Just once had the fort been overtaken; three rivals joined forces for the siege but only managed to hold it for two days. As we wandered around, we understood how the fort was so secure while marveling at the vastness of the compound. There were scores of temples dotted on the landscape and we ventured off the main loop to visit one of them. When we circuitously arrived at a beautiful temple we had spotted from atop the fort, we were the only ones around, save for one boy who seemed to be some sort of security guard. Although the temple was locked, we enjoyed the solitude away from the hordes of school kids on field trips.

Then it was off to Ranakpurgh, home to a handful of Jain temples, including one of the largest in the world. Although the two places appeared to be very close on our map, the roads were incredibly windy and the journey took almost two hours. Jainism is an offshoot of Hinduism whose adherents are strictly vegetarian. The architecture of the temple was incredible, with thousands of stone columns, each one unique. We had to remove our shoes before entering (as in most temples in Asia). Supposedly no photos of their gods are allowed, although in other Jain temples we visited they were allowed, so we’re not sure. Also, it seemed a contradiction that a religion founded in opposition to religious dogma should be so concerned about taking pictures of their deities’ statues. The ride back was long and painful, and made worse as the driver appeared to be losing his sanity by the time we got back into the city.

We saved what we figured was the best for last, the Lake Palace tour, which was the number one recommendation in the guidebook. The twenty minute boat ride in Lake Pichola provided some good photos but the palace itself was somewhat disappointing, likely because our expectations were too high. The gardens were mostly barren and we weren’t even allowed to visit one area the palace, so that our visit lasted around less than an hour, despite costing 325 rupees each. Nonetheless, the palace itself is like something out of a fairytale. And now, another small rant. It is common for other tourists to ask us to take their picture and we usually ask them to reciprocate. It has been our experience that many of these people show little to no concern for how the pictures turn out. For example, at the Lake Palace, Jason took a nicely framed photograph of this French couple, who reciprocated by taking an out-of-focus snapshot that completely cut off the view behind us. To all of the inconsiderate poseur photographers out there, Malf has only this to say: GET IT TOGETHER.

Later that day we caught the bus to Jodhpur, or the “blue city”, so-called due to its abundance of blue-painted houses. Once again, the bus was awful, and we suspected we were dumped on the local bus even though we had paid for a tourist bus. As we departed the bus, our noses were blasted with a mixture of exhaust and open sewage. By now we had gotten used to toxic smells, for India is covered with them, but Jodhpur was the smelliest place we had been thus far. On our way to the guesthouse, we looked aghast at the open sewers that flowed alongside the streets. Similar to Udaipur, our first room was unacceptable, but they moved us into a much nicer one the following morning. The next day, we tried looking for the tour bus recommended in the guidebook but when we got there, were told instead that we would need to hire a private driver at a ridiculous price. Instead, we stopped for lunch at Priya restaurant, and had exquisite bhel puri and Delhi chat, one of Jason’s favorite dishes. As with Mirabai, we ate most of our meals at this cheap and tasty establishment. Outside the restaurant, we negotiated with an auto driver to take us on the same tour for half the price. The first stop was the Bhavan palace, one of the last palaces built in India, but which was mostly a memorial to its builder. The next stop was the fort, which offered spectacular views of the city (which was actually blue) and had a great electronic audio tour. One gem was a story about this princess who was traveling in a covered-carriage, as royal women often did. (After spending six weeks in India, we both came to understand why this was practiced since a large majority of the men have staring problems) When a newspaper’s photographer captured a glimpse of her bare ankle and printed it, the family bought up every last copy of the newspaper to ensure that no one else saw. Another highlight was the weapons gallery, with daggers that had animal-shaped ivory handles and muskets with intricate gold inlays. Our last stop of the day was the Mandore Gardens, although the auto-driver tried to finagle his way out of taking us there since dusk was approaching. We ignored his admonition to “not take too long.” The park contained a series of well-preserved Hindu ruins, which were owned by these giant black-faced Macaque monkeys, the largest we’d ever seen. Half a dozen or so workers regularly fed them and we were almost intimidated as they outnumbered us humans about twenty to one. Atop one of the domed temples, a group of them were playing their version of king of the hill; one would sit atop while three or four others would run up and try to knock him off, incorporating flips and twirls like a pack of ninjas. It was mesmerizing. After awhile, we ventured off down this street but soon turned around as the stares we were getting from the men there did not seem friendly and some were outright menacing. Lastly, we visited the hall of heroes, which consisted of an entire galley of statues carved right into the rock. The statues consisted of deities from different religions followed by famous Rajput kings, some of whom held decapitated heads of their enemies.

The following day we went on another day tour, this time to some of the outlying villages. Accompanying us was a gregarious Aussie family: JP, the father, reminded Jason of his uncle/godfather Danny; Kristin was studying criminology and shared some interesting insights about the difficulties of working with Aboriginal populations; and Oskar who was very bright and used words like presumptuous despite being only 13. At the first village, we took turns drinking very diluted opium water that is their customary welcome. We all looked in amusement as the local man finished the remaining half of the drink himself. After enjoying a great home-cooked meal at the next village we got to see how they make these incredible rugs, followed by encouragement to buy one, which we resisted. We couldn’t help but be amused at the men’s curly moustaches. The last village we got to see how they make earthenware pottery. We regretted not being able to purchase anything, but we knew we’d be back someday. That night, Jason purchased some sweets on the way back to our guesthouse. As he was eating a ladoo, a nearby cow caught a whiff of the food and gave us an imploring look to share our sweets. Although Jason looked at him and even said ‘no’ aloud, the cow started coming after us (or it). We hightailed it out of there and he eventually gave up the chase.

During our time in Jodhpur, we did purchase some nice textiles. The folks in our hotel offered to take us to their ‘brother’s’ place (in India, everyone is a ‘brother’) that was famous and supposedly frequented by many celebrities. The most recent was Madonna, who we had crossed paths with on our way to Jodhpur (she had departed for Udaipur the same day we arrived from there). We were led up three stories and couldn’t help but be impressed with the shear volume of textiles they had. While we sat waiting with a German couple for close to an hour while they closed another sale, we were shown a photo album of Bill Murray, Giorgio Armani, and Jason Schwartzman. After awhile, we just started looking through their stuff and became enamored with their exquisitely patterned Pashmina shawls. However, we suspected the price tag of 1500 rupees ($38) was inflated so we took off while the Germans got suckered. A vital piece of information to always keep in mind when traveling is that whenever someone brings you to a shop they get a HUGE commission, sometimes as high as 50% so it is never wise to purchase something until you arrive on your own. On our final night, after another delectable dinner at Priya, we found the exact same shawls for 900, meaning the other place had inflated their prices by 66%! The owner even explained how the whole ‘famous-patron’ shtick is a ruse. Jason was tempted to purchase one of their ivory-handled daggers (for who knows what but feared having it confiscated at one of the many airports we still had left to pass through. However, he couldn’t resist buying (or showing it off in the above picture) one of the ‘retro-pimp’ shirts that he had seen so many of the locals wearing. The store had supposedly fixed prices and the shirt’s tag read 550 but when Jason was able to bargain in Hindi, the shop-owner gave in to ‘theen sow’ (300). As we packed our nearly overstuffed bags that night, we realized the discipline we had maintained throughout our trip to minimize our purchases was rapidly dissipating as we neared meeting up with Priti’s mother.

When we had booked our overnight train to Jaisalmer, we were not sure what class to book because the woman behind the counter could not explain the difference and the guidebook was confusing. For those traveling to India, there are basically three options: 1) Sleeper—cheapest option with eight berths per car (three by three with two more opposite the aisle), no bed sheets, and no climate control; 2) 2AC—most expensive with only six berths per car (only two by two), with bed sheets and climate control; and 3) 3AC—hybrid of the two with eight berths, bed sheets and climate control. For any overnight journeys we highly recommend splurging on the 2AC or 3AC. Since it was just six hours and we didn’t know any better, we went with the cheapest option, sleeper class. One of the windows didn’t close, so the compartment was freezing cold and our sleeping bag liners didn’t help much. We were in the middle berths on each side, and the scumbag sleeping in the berth below Jason (meaning Jason couldn’t see him) stared at Priti all night, and even tried rubbing up against her several times as he walked by.

Thus, our arrival in Jaisalmer at six AM was a tired one, and we were immediately greeted with a group of obnoxious touts trying to get us into their hotels. We had read that the fort inside ‘Gold City’ was sinking and thus it was not environmentally responsible to stay inside it, so we went with a place outside of the fort. Continuing the Rajasthan pattern, the first room they gave us was awful and the toilet didn’t even work. This time we didn’t wait to demand another room and after Priti started yelling and we made for the exit, they gave us their best room for the same price we’d agreed to for the first sub-par room. Despite the early hour, they tried getting us to commit to booking a camel safari with them but we stalled, knowing we’d find it cheaper elsewhere. After catching up on sleep, we wandered into the fort and met some really nice guys, who invited Jason to play Karam, a board game akin to billiards with chips. After six straight losses, he bowed out. As we wandered around the labyrinthine Jaisalmer fort, we came across a jeweler shop that is renowned for its intricate engravings and many couples have their wedding bands made there with rows of symbols that represent their lives together. Although we didn’t buy any, we had fun coming up with our own list of symbols, like the St. Louis Arch, a saguaro cactus, Ganesh, and the earth, to name a few.

The next day we took a camel safari out into the desert. Despite our misgivings about being on camels for about eight hours over two days, we thoroughly enjoyed it and this was one of the highlights of our trip thus far. We both developed a tremendous amount of respect for camels, which require very little food and water yet are so useful for long-distance transport in the desert. Plus, they are easygoing and not skittish like some horses. We were glad our guides had not tied the camels together like another group we had seen, and they even let Jason’s camel, Kingfisher, ride ahead of the pack, allowing him a true Lawrence of Arabia feeling. The only drawbacks to Kingfisher were that he was not very friendly (wouldn’t let us pet him) and had the most horrible breath ever, which he kept belching up because he was constantly chewing shrubs. Interestingly camels move their jaws horizontally, rather than vertically, when they chew. Priti’s camel was much friendlier and even reached its head around to scratch its nose on her leg. Although riding became a bit uncomfortable by the end of the day, our legs were not too sore. The uninterrupted dunes stretched off into the horizon and were amazing to behold. After we stopped for the night, Jason had fun launching himself off the dunes into the soft silky sand. Our campsite was very close to the Pakistan border, and the guides themselves appeared more Pakistani or even Afghani in appearance, with dark skin and very light eyes. It was interesting to see them drinking water out of the same trough as their camels, which we surmised they’d been doing their entire lives. They were very friendly and cooked us a wonderful meal and sang Hindi film songs around the campfire. There were no tents, and Jason fell asleep by counting the shooting stars (he got to twenty).

Upon our return from the camel safari, we discovered that all of the hotel owners would not give us a reasonable rate because they knew we had just returned from a camel safari, which is the real money-maker. So we returned to the travel agent that had booked us the safari and took a room inside the fort. Considering that most of the shops and many restaurants are located within the fort, we didn’t think our one night could be that environmentally harmful (don’t tell Al Gore). That night we went to the Dylan Café, so named in honor of Bob Dylan. There we hung out with Om, who possessed a wealth of music and put all of our photos and videos on a DVD since we had been unable to find a good internet connection. The next morning, we awoke to discover that there was no water in our room (even though we had been told there was hot water). And because for some unknown reason, all the places have a 9 am checkout, we did not have time to shower for the third straight day. We both agreed we wouldn’t pay the full price since there was no water. When we informed the worker, he made a fuss and then promptly got his manager. As Priti argued with the manager in Hindi, he furtively directed the worker to go turn on the water, and afterwards went up to the room to show us that it did work and we were lying. This set Priti off and although we planned to give 150 instead of 200 rupees, his antics meant he wasn’t getting more than 100. He scoffed and said he wouldn’t accept that, so we just left without paying anything. But now we were stuck with our bags…oops. It took us an hour to find the Dylan Café; whenever we asked the locals its whereabouts and spelled it, they called it ‘dialin’, much to our bemusement.

That evening, as we boarded the long, long, long train to Delhi, we were sad to be leaving Rajasthan because it is an amazing place but we vowed to return, especially since we didn’t get to see some of the other highlights like Jaipur, the ‘pink city’. There is a reason this is the Indian state that receives the most tourists each year and in our opinion no visit to the sub-continent would be complete without seeing it. At the same time, we were very excited to see Priti’s mother in Delhi, as well as the rest of her family in Bihar, all of which will be detailed in the next blog entry.

Bombay & Goa

2008-03-05T13:35:00.000-08:00

Bombay/Mumbai

Our arrival in India was filled with great anticipation as Jason had never been there before and Priti had not been since her sister Julie and Kiran's wedding in 1999. We allotted more time here than any other country, seven weeks, which is really not very long because India is massive, hence its nickname as the sub-continent. Stepping out of the airport at around midnight, we saw a sea of brown faces awaiting their friends and families; thankfully our host Rajesh and his father were waiting for us with our names on a sign and it was pretty easy to spot Jason amongst the crowd (and contradicting our speculation in the Philippines entry that we’d never again be greeted at an airport with a personalized sign). Although we had never met them, and our connection distant (family friends’ in-laws) they treated us throughout our stay as if we were immediate family, and referred to Jason as ‘dhamadh’ or son-in-law. We arrived at their place in New Mumbai and were immediately offered a wonderful home-cooked Indian meal; the best cure in the world for a minor bout of homesickness. As we continued eating, not wanting to leave food on our plates for fear of offending our hosts, more and more food kept getting piled on. By the end of the meal we were both stuffed. Somehow we were uninformed that in India an empty plate signals that the person is not yet satiated so more food will be offered until there is food left on the plate…vital information for anyone traveling there and staying with hosts.

The following morning, after another wonderful meal (a phrase you will read often), we learned that there was a water shortage and thus they had to fill up buckets whenever the water was turned on. It was Jason’s first time taking a bucket shower and we both came to realize how much water is wasted using western showers, although we still prefer them. Freshened up, we went to the train station where we met Raj’s friend Ashok and his family, who were new arrivals to the city and thus accompanied us to the sights. Since we were not in a tourist area, Jason was the only non-Indian, and received lots of stares from the locals. Once in the train station, we got to witness the daily chaos that defines Indian rail travel. As the train approached, we could see passengers hanging out of the doors of each car and before the train even stopped dozens of them jumped off running in order to stop their momentum. As the throngs around us surged forward, it quickly became obvious that all six of us were not going to get aboard, so we held back and waited for the next one. Our strategy changed and Priti and Ashok’s wife went to an area to board a women's-only car so they wouldn't have to be subjected to the inevitable groping that happens in the dual-sex cars. As we once again pushed forward toward the door, we managed to squeeze in to the large sardine can with wheels; although we had ridden packed trains before (like in the Philippines), none of them compared to this one. From the station we took autos (same as tuk-tuks in Thailand) to the Gateway of India, which is a large fort dedicated to some British bloke and also the launching point to Elephanta Island. Behind it was the famous Taj Hotel. It was very hot and we had to wait quite some time for the ferry. The ferry itself took another hour and by the time we arrived at our destination we were both pretty exhausted. Also, having just seen Angkor Wat, the highlight of the island, a massive three-headed statue of Shiva, the Hindu god of creation and destruction, was not as fascinating to us as the rest of visitors. There were also temples built into caves. Inside some of them were lingas, which are phallic symbols of Shiva that represent fertility and adorned with coins, which would attempt to stick on; if the coins stuck it meant a baby would be forthcoming. We abstained since we want to wait until our trip is over before having our own. Speaking of, whenever we told Indians that we had been married for four years, their immediate follow-up question was "and how many children?" They never failed to look disappointed, and often sympathetic, when we replied "none yet."

However, at least then we weren’t stuck with the rest of them trying to get somewhere as we were from the moment we got in the car at 9:30 am until the moment we got out at 9:30 pm. Twelve hours in 90 F with humidity in a non-air-conditioned car is enough to drive anyone insane; we have no idea how the drivers do it day in and day out. Having lived in Arizona for four years, we thought we had acclimated to the heat, but the humidity in Bombay is suffocating, and set a record low temperature of eight degrees Celsius (~ 45 degrees F) a month after we left! The first stop (about three and a half hours after we left) was the ‘aquarium.’ Hailing from Omaha and Chicago, home to two of the best aquariums in the world, we had a hard time calling it that ourselves. It consisted of one medium-sized room, with rows of tanks, all of which were too populated, too small, or in most cases, both, for the marine life inside. Nonetheless, it wasThe next day we woke up early for a day tour of the city with Ashok and his wife and one-year-old daughter since Raj had to work. In short, Mumbai is HUGE. There are about 25 million people and throughout the three days we never found ourselves not surrounded by them. Geographically, the city never seems to end, as we had discovered the day before on the ferry. packed, and we were whisked along by the other visitors and were finished after about 20 minutes. Then it was back into the incinerator for another hour until we reached the Hanging Gardens. They were a much-needed respite from the city congestion, but we were disappointed that the famous view of Chowpatty beach was virtually non-existent due to the intense smog, which was much worse than anywhere else we’ve been. While strolling through the gardens, a group of young Indian men stopped Jason to have their photos taken, the first of many such instances. He tried unsuccessfully to keep it from going to his head. From there, we visited one of the Bollywood set locations. It is normally off-limits but since Jason was sitting in the front seat the guards assumed he was someone in the biz and didn’t stop us. We drove around and saw some of the sets and then turned around because the driver didn’t know where else to go. As we left, Jason had the tour book out and so the guards stopped us and questioned our whereabouts before letting us proceed. Our next stop was this pond that draws unsuspecting visitors to paddle around its confines. During our 30 minutes of paddling, we figured out that the reason pictures and video is strictly forbidden is because if word got out how pathetic it was, no one would ever visit. After the ride, we stopped for some snacks and had some massala-flavored snacks that had the texture of crunchy cheetos. Finally, we visited the Hari Krishna temple, which had scenes from the Bhagavad Gita represented with life-size models as well as a live re-enactment of one of the scenes. Although not religious, Jason found some of the passages accompanying the models to be very aligned with his mystical views on the nature of reality. We bought some tasty ladoos to cap off our long day. Throughout our entire stay, our hosts refused to let us pay for anything and did everything they could to make sure we were enjoying our stay. Too bad they couldn’t control the weather or the traffic. Raj and Jason spent the remainder of the night sharing music and Raj even loaded six CDs of traditional Indian music onto our jump drive.

Our final day in Mumbai/Bombay (like Ho Chi Minh City, it seemed whenever we said one the person said the other) was much more relaxed. Since Raj was working, his father took us out for massala dosa, which is a crepe filled with vegetables and one of our favorites. The dosas were massive and filling, yet we had to convince Uncle not to order more food. Afterwards, we went to see the latest Bollywood blockbuster, Welcome, a comedy where the hero falls in love with a woman from a mafia family. India actually produces more films every year than Hollywood and the locals we’ve met in just about every single country on our trip are big fans. Amitabh Bachan, with his snow white goatee, his replacement Shah Rukh Khan, and the former miss universe Aishwarya Rai, who married Bachan’s son, are household names throughout Asia and were ubiquitous, their faces plastered on just about every billboard. Front-page news stories during our stay included the release of Khan’s income tax returns (he earned five times the next highest paid actor) and a school being named after Mrs. Rai (although her husband was inexplicably absent). Incredibly, none of them were in the movie, although the stunning Mallika Sherawat (far right on poster) played a supporting role. There were no sub-titles so Priti had to translate, though there were many English words sprinkled in, as English and Hindi are both official languages (Hinglish?). The movie was funny at times and the soundtrack was good. The house was packed and we suspected that the Nepalese guy sitting next to Jason was high on something; he went to the concession three times during the movie and each time brought back something for Jason, all of which he politely refused. After the movie we browsed some of the shops and then got our bus tickets to Goa, as the much-preferred trains had long been booked for the upcoming New Year’s celebration. We took photos with our hosts and noticed something odd—no Indians smile in their pictures. Jason decided from then on to stop smiling in pictures while in India, much to the annoyance of Priti.

Goa

We were a bit nervous heading to Goa during the most popular week because with the booming Indian economy, many more Indians are traveling and thousands flock to the beach-infused state for the final week of the year. The sleeper bus to Panjim (the capital) was not too bad but we initially thought our fears had materialized, as the first four guesthouses that we stopped at (all from the guidebook) were completely booked. Mercifully, travel life exists outside the confines of Lonely Planet, and we managed to find reasonably priced accommodation (albeit still double the normal rate). Jason courageously or foolishly decided to rent a scooter so that we could visit Old Goa. Despite a couple close calls, he managed to get us there intact. Because Goa was first colonized by the Portuguese, it has the highest proportion of Christians in the country and we actually managed to make it to church on Christmas Day.

We visited several of them in fact, one of which houses the remains of St. Francies Xavier. It was surreal for him to see groups of Indians kneeling in prayer before a large crucifixion sculpture while listening to Christmas jingles in the background. Since Panjim was not on the beach, we decided to head north to check out some of the different beach towns because there are about a dozen to choose from. First we checked out Anjuna, which is popular with westerners for its supposed ‘hippy’ vibe. After our previous experiences in Pai, we were skeptical and after seeing hordes of yapping yippies with Bob Marley blaring in the background, we crossed it off our list.

After checking out a few other spots, we took the public bus to Calangute. We stopped at a few places to stay but they were either booked up, outrageous or total dumps. Once again, the fears were creeping in, so we headed for the beach and just started walking along it, hoping somewhere would fall into our laps. Thus, for the first time in five months, we had to convert our larger bags to backpacks. So for those of you considering taking an extended trip, we highly recommend getting bags with wheels. We walked for about fifteen minutes before someone brought us to a guesthouse just a few hundred meters off the beach. It was still overpriced by Indian standards for essentially a beach hut ($20) but we didn’t want to press our luck. We quickly changed and headed back to the beach, which is one of the longest uninterrupted beaches in the world, and stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. It was packed with mostly Indian men, many of whom walked hand in hand and way too many donning only tighty whities. Others had cameras and were furtively taking pictures of the women in bikinis. All along the beach are shacks that offer food and drink and padded beach chairs with umbrellas. Jason went out to ride the waves of the Arabian Sea, which would turn over all the way to the beach. Several times they were so strong that the flipped him over and he ended up more than once with his head planted in the sand. Because of the violent surf, the lifeguards were vigilant and would not let swimmers go out further than about 30 feet. Many of the Indians in the water did not appear too comfortable and Jason almost had to rescue one Sikh man who had strayed too far out. About a dozen passers-by stopped to have their photos taken with Jason, who had by now-in his-mind-attained full-on rock-star status.

Meanwhile, Priti mostly stayed in the shade, engrossed in Zorro, an excellent novel by Isabel Allende. One of the best things about traveling (or more precisely, not working) is that there is so much free time to read books. We have read many great and some not-so-great books during our trip, and at the end will post a complete list along with brief reviews (in honor of Sapna, who told us in Bangkok that she had been rating all books she had read to post on their blog but in a spate of self-consciousness had shredded them). At nights, many of the beach shacks would turn into dance clubs that blasted trance and bhangra music until dawn. And so our days at the nearest beach shack and nights in the clubs passed by in Goa. After frantically zipping around SE Asia and then Mumbai, we were content to just kick back on the beach and enjoy the nightlife. Actually, another recommendation for those considering extended travel is to plan interludes of ‘vacations-within-the-vacation’ where you just veg out, because although traveling can’t really be described as difficult, it is easy to get worn out by trying to see and do everything in every place on one's itinerary.

Some of the daytime highlights included the daily procession of cows that straggled onto the beach before being chased away by the dogs. One chilled out cow spent most of one day lounging next to us. A British family that spent every day in the same shack had two teenage daughters who were constantly being stared at, even though one wasn’t older than 13. Several times, they started shouting obscenities at Indian perverts who were taking video. On the one hand, we sided with them because the Indian men could be completely obnoxious perverts. For example, while we were walking down the beach at night, obviously together, a group of men passed by and one of them reached out and groped Priti’s rear end. She yelled at him and Jason started to go after him, but he ran off just as would be expected from desperate loser. At the same time the older daughter was wearing a very skimpy bikini in a modest country, so could it really come as a surprise when she got stares? One unattractive older woman even had the audacity to sunbathe topless! Another highlight were the sand castles they constructed which were huge and looked like some of the temples we would soon see. We returned to Anjuna for the famous Wednesday market that was ridiculously huge, with merchants descending from regions far and wide to sell their goods. Jason couldn’t resist and purchased a few shirts and a necklace.

Nighttime highlights included the restaurant right next to our guesthouse, Mirabai. They had live music several nights a week, but the food was outstanding. Their tandoori chicken ($4 for a whole chicken) was the best we’ve ever had and the took over an hour to prepare on the grill; by the time we left, we were eating there exclusively. We also sampled the Kingfisher beer which was decent enough. One night we watched a Rajasthani music/dance group which featured a cross-dresser who, among other amazing feats, balanced pots on his head while dancing on broken glas. At most of the clubs, 95% of the dancers were men, and we couldn’t help but laugh when some of them would get up on the platforms and twirl their shirts around, a scene we would expect to see at a gay club. We reluctantly spent New Year’s Eve at a nearby shack/club that provided a full dinner and unlimited drinks for just $20 per couple. As expected, the food was sub-par but at least they didn’t run out of booze and had good music and entertainment, including fire dancers that mesmerized the guests and onlookers alike. Speaking of entertainment, Jason proved to be one of the biggest draws of the evening, for every time he went out to dance he was literally mobbed by dozens of Indian men who wanted to dance with him. Furthermore, when he was dancing, big crowds would gather at the barrier to watch him, and then some even paid the entry fee just to join in the frenzied dancing. Thus, the owner of the place was thrilled and even offered us to his house for dinner the following night. During the insanity, Jason began to understand the dual-sided nature of celebrity; the fans may appear to adore the celebrity but really they just relish what the celebrity represents. In his case, it was a white man who could dance like an Indian. While the throngs fawned over Jason, Priti was being looked after by a very nice, albeit naïve, Sikh man, who warned her about her Bacardi Breezer "benji (sister), that’s not juice, you know that has alcohol in it?" Meanwhile, his friend started putting the moves on her, and eventually Jason had to enlist his handlers to take of him (hah, actually, he took care of it himself). When we returned to the room, Jason capped off his rock-star fantasy by serenading Priti with long songs from his MP3 player, much to her chagrin and anyone else within listening range.

We spent our last day in Goa as we had the rest, lounging on the beach. We booked a bus ticket back to Mumbai, which had increased a ridiculous fifty percent because of the date. We looked into flights directly to Udaipur, our next stop, but they were prohibitively expensive, so we booked a much-cheaper flight from Mumbai because we couldn’t stomach back-to-back 10 hour bus rides. The shuttle bus that was supposed to take us back to Panjim from Calangute was full so we had to wait an hour for it to make the roundtrip return. There were some children begging and one of them reacted to receiving our bananas as if we’d just made her day; it broke his heart when she came over and clutched Jason’s hand as our shuttle departed. When we got to the bus station, we got shuffled onto our bus and realized that is wasn’t the same company we’d taken to Goa; the sleeping compartments were smaller, and the driver was much less considerate of his sleeping passengers…so concludes part one of our India adventure.

Cambodia & Bangkok Redux

2008-02-17T06:14:00.000-08:00

Distraught and tired from our nightmare in Vietnam, on the Mekong ferry across the border we committed to making the most of Cambodia, despite our limited time there. We arrived in the capital city of Phnom Penh at night and managed to find a room at the OK hostel near the river. On the way we stopped at an ATM and were pleasantly surprised but slightly disturbed that the currency was U.S. dollars. We strolled along the river, and passed several small temples and dozens of homeless people, mostly children. We also came across "Bug Row", which was a street in the local market that was line with vendors selling all kinds of critters: crickets, tarantulas, grasshoppers, grubs, etc. Jason’s adventurous side came forward but we decided to hold off because we didn’t have the camera with us (and unfornutately never got around to getting a picture). As we meandered through the city, we came across the Ministry of Cult and Religions which Jason found an apt coupling since he sees them as the same thing, but we couldn't go inside. For dinner, we enjoyed one of the local specialties, fish alok, which consisted of a mixture of lemongrass and coconut (basically Thai but milder). We also sampled the Ankor Beer, which was pretty good but no Beer Lao.

The next day we went to the Royal Palace, which was pretty similar to the other palaces we had seen, though there were some highlights. That night, Jason found a poker game full of ex-pats being played at a nearby restaurant. During the game, Jason would get his chance to sample one of the critters as one of the local women dialed in an order for a bag of crickets to go. Ten minutes later, they were sitting in front of him, waiting to be consumed. As he crunched into it, he was reminded of the dried salty sardines we had eaten in the Philippines. Jason managed to win some money despite the chips inexplicably being denominated in kip, the Khmer currency that no one uses except to provide change when less than $1. After collecting his winnings, he decided to head out with a New Yorker named Mark, who’d been living in Phnom Penh for four months. As they conversed, Jason brought up our upcoming travel plans to India, where Mark had spent several months traveling, specifically Ladakh. Jason mentioned that some friends had made a documentary about Buddhist mystics in Ladakh, and it turns out we were separated by just one degree, the inimitable Smitty (Ryan Smith)! We both were in awe as the interconnectedness of our planet planted itself right in our laps. Mark shared some interesting insights into the city which is famous for its lawlessness and frontier zeitgeist (think Wild West). For example, there is one street, which we did not see, that is essentially ‘Prostitute Row’ and is lined with little warehouses filled with girls and boys as young as fourteen that will satisfy even the most depraved tourists. Cambodia is now one of the most popular countries for sex tourism because it is cheaper than Thailand (which is already very cheap) and Vietnam clamped down on the industry; many if not most of the prostitutes working in Cambodia (often having been enslaved) are actually Vietnamese. Jason was barely able to restrain himself when he saw men aged sixty or older holding hands with teenagers. More chillingly, at the hotel at which we were staying, which was huge and packed with backpackers, two tourists had been found dead in their room. Luckily, when we went out to another club, we didn’t witness firsthand this lawlessness and no one pulled their guns out (which is apparently a common occurrence).

The following day was a depressing one, as we took a tour into Cambodia’s tragic history. (For those who look at the picture galleries, some are quite disturbing.) We both read a political biography of Pol Pot (Saloth Sar was his real name) called Brother Number One by David Chandler, so we’ll share some of his disturbing life, which is intertwined with Cambodia’s horrific history. Briefly, Pol Pot was a fanatical communist who, through Machiavellian maneuvering, pure charm, and sheer luck became Brother Number One, as he was called by his subordinates. Although he came from a privileged background and even studied abroad in France, he despised the Cambodian leaders, who got themselves into the middle of the conflict between American and Vietnam. Pol Pot and his colleagues also hated both of the parties in this conflict, although they played the Vietnamese Communists in order to win their support. In 1975, upon their relatively easy defeat of the corrupt Sihanouk’s army, Pol Pot and his group of naïve revolutionaries then set about annihilating their country in order to form a Communist utopia. Their first move was to implement an asinine policy of evacuating all of the major cities and forcing literally everyone into the countryside. The rationale for this policy was that for too long city residents had exploited the farmers. Hundreds of thousands died during this phase alone. Those who survived faced in many cases an even worse fate, as they were stripped of all possessions (money was abolished) and forced into the hardest labor imaginable. One of the slogans often heard by these ‘new people,’ as displaced city residents were called, was ‘nothing is gained if you live, nothing is lost if you die.’ Pol Pot’s own paranoia was projected onto the entire country, as everyone was on guard for fear of being reported as a traitor. Children were indoctrinated to turn on their parents and even knowing someone who was suspected of minor wrongdoings was punishable by torture and death. Two years into their power, they ignited a full-on war with Vietnam that would ultimately destroy their regime two years later. Although they spent just four years in power, the Khmer Rouge were directly responsible for the deaths of over 1 million people, or about 1/7 of their population.

First, we visited the killing fields, about 10 kms outside of town, which was the location for much of the genocide that transpired. We saw a gut-wrenching memorial that was seven stories high and filled with victims’ skulls, organized into demographic groups. Thus, there was one shelf filled with children’s remains. A haunting music filled the room and neither of us had dry eyes when we left. As we walked around the fields, there were dug out pits where hundreds of corpses had been found, and a tree where victims were slammed against it to preserve bullets because the army couldn’t afford them. The next stop was Tuol Sleng, or S-21, which was a school that the Khmer Rouge turned into a prison. One three-story building consisted of a series of cells. On the first floor, each room had a single bed in the middle with various implements of torture chained to them. Graphic pictures on the wall showed the corpses that were left to rot in those very same beds. The 2nd and 3rd stories contained smaller cells that were about the size of closets, where other victims were held. The adjacent building contained room after room of portraits of the victims. We slowly moved through these rooms, entranced by the expressions on their faces: fear, resignation, anger, even hope that they might be spared. But of the more than 14,000 residents of S-21, there were just seven survivors. The faces of the child victims were the saddest of all.One fascinating aspect of the Khmer Rouge is that they maintained copious records of their victims, including lengthy confessions (some over 200 pages) that were generally extracted by torture. The most informative confessions were from Pol Pot’s inner circle, over half of whom were ultimately purged, even though some of them had been his ‘friends’ for two decades. Somehow, Pol Pot escaped death and lived in hiding and then house arrest until his death in 1998. Astoundingly, based on his comments shortly before his death, ‘everything I did, I did for my country,’ his conscience remained clear. But what’s even more astounding is that, according to Mark, the Khmer Rouge are still in power in much of the more remote areas of Cambodia.

After such a sad day, we decided to try some of the "happy" pizza that Phnom Penh is known for. While we waited for our order, some of the pirated-book-vendors approached our table, none of them older than 12. Although Jason had agreed not to buy any books (we had too many already), he was about to buy two more about Cambodia when Priti became very agitated and started yelling at him. After a few tense and awkward minutes, the girl left. Later, as we were enjoying our pizza, another girl came by and mysteriously dropped a copy of The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevara on our table and said "Merry Christmas." On the inside cover was the following inscription:

THANKS FOR BEING AN A**HOLE AMERICAN AND MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF.
GET A LIFE.

YOU’RE AN EMBARASSMENT TO THE REST OF US. HERE’S A FREE BOOK FOR YOU SINCE THESE GIRLS ARE SUCH A TERRIBLE INCONVENIENCE AND NUISANCE TO YOU.

MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Jason started laughing hysterically but Priti attempted to rip the cover off before coming around and having a good laugh herself as our dinner lightened up the mood. We ended up buying a few books from her the following day and everyone was happy.

Our next stop was Siem Reap, and we were very glad we had booked a room ahead, as the scene when we got off the bus was insane. There were about 30 touts shouting and shoving fliers into our faces for their hotels and we were thankful we had already booked a room. Siem Reap is the home of Angkor Wat, a massive complex of Hindu ruins from the twelfth century, which comprise the largest temple in the world, spanning about 100 square miles. We opted for the three-day pass, which was a bit pricey at $40 but we knew that one day would not be enough and we wanted to take a relaxed pace rather than rush around trying to see everything. Upon our arrival, we purchased a guidebook called Ancient Angkor that we found invaluable in our explorations. Our first stop was Angkor Wat itself; with its triumvirate towers, it is the most well-known of the temples and is a ubiquitous symbol in the Khmer landscape, donning both the flag and the beer. It is truly an amazing structure to behold and one of the most amazing things we’ve ever seen. Pol Pot was reported to have said, when informed that his production goals were impossible to meet, ‘if our people were capable of Angkor, we can do anything.’ Our amazement only grew when we entered the temple, as every wall was covered with detailed carvings called bas-reliefs. Most of the scenes were from Hindu mythology, including the Ramayana and Mahabharata.

After spending a few hours wandering through Angkor Wat, we headed to Bayon and its many faces carved right into the stones. As incredible as the main temple was, Bayon was even better. We lost count of the faces whose eyes seemed to follow us throughout the temple. We spent a couple more hours there and before we knew it the day was nearly over. For sunset, we reluctantly opted to join the crowds that gather each evening at a hilltop temple. On our way we stopped at both the Elephant and Leper King Terraces. After ascending the big hill, we had to climb up these huge steps that were so steep we had to use our hands. The sun setting behind the temple was nice and we got a good view of Angkor Wat from afar.

So ended our first day.

Feeling lazy, we again hired a tuk-tuk to take us to the temples, and we ventured out to Banteay Srei which was 28 kilometers away from the other temples. It was absolutely worth the one hour tuk-tuk ride since it was beautiful, detailed, and well maintained. And there weren’t many people there. Along the way, we passed many villages, some of which had signs documenting some sort of adoption program by foreigners, most of whom were Americans. It was sad to see yet again dozens of beggin children, and as we were walking to one of the temples, one of them approached us so we gave some of our bananas to her. We hadn’t finished eating the remaining half when another girl approached us. When we offered her bananas, she exclaimed, "I’m not a monkey"(!) Needless to say, she went away empty-handed.

We returned to Bayon temple for sunset and marveled at how the giant faces slightly changed color as the sky got darker. We decided that we would wake up at 5am the next morning in order to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat, which is apparently the time for the best views of the temples. We rented bikes the night before and had a Cambodian barbeque dinner, including kangaroo (yum), cobra (yuk), crocodile (eh), chicken, and pork. The center of the silver grill had a slab of lard on it which melted and marinated the meat surrounding it. The barbeque was silver and dome shaped so that the meat could be on it. We also enjoyed some Beer Lao and then biked home at a reasonable hour yet we somehow didn’t go to bed until close to midnight. Thus, when the alarm sounded at 5am, we were too tired to get out of bed and ride our bikes to see the sunrise. We got up around eight instead and got ready for a leisurely day of biking. We noticed a wrench on Jason’s bike, which was parked in front of the guesthouse, and then he realized the seat position was lower and the seat had mysteriously suffered a broken shock, making it very uncomfortable to ride. Actually it wasn’t much of a mystery as we knew the seat had been replaced with a broken one. We talked to the guesthouse manager who said the wrench was his but wasn’t sure what had happened to the seat. Fortunately we got a replacement without any hassle and then rode off to the Wats. It was a beautiful day with clear skies and a nice wind that kept us cool. This continued the pattern that every time we rent bikes we have great days. The highlight of the day was Ta Prohm, which had lots of trees growing right out of the ruins. At the same time, we were disappointed that some of the temples were in pretty bad shape, considering how much revenue is received each year from tourism. It was even more frustrating because we had received false information that the Temples were owned by the Vietnamese! That evening, we had planned to cap our stay in Siem Reap with a classical music concert that is held at the local children’s hospital every Saturday night. However, when we showed the guesthouse manager the flier, he informed us that it was actually Sunday. This means we had been off by a day for the past week…doh!

The next day we caught the infamous bus from Siem Reap to Bangkok, which is supposedly made deliberately awful by the government and airlines in order to increase demand for flights to/from Bangkok. We thought we had heeded the warnings by pay a little extra for the deluxe A/C bus. The minivan picked us up from our guesthouse and took us to the station where we waited outside for one hour for the big bus to come. When it arrived, the workers took our bags and started loading them into the bus, which confused all of us passengers. The first person to get on showed a look of shock which was followed by a gasp. Stepping on, we looked aghast as the aisles were filled with our bags and we had to climb over the bags or onto the seats in order to get to our seats. We were annoyed that some of the people did not take there shoes off as they climbed over the luggage. At first, it was just dust on the bags, but after several toilet stops, the dust became mud. The one in the very front got the worst of it, which by the end had a layer of toxic mud caked onto it. Other passengers commented how sorry they felt for the owner who just happened to be Jason. When one young female dolt made the completely asinine and insensitive remark, "I hope no one has anything valuable in their bag" as she proceeded to walk all over them, Jason had to once again summon all his restraint in order not to push her off the bus. At this point Jason would like to mention that he is keeping a record of the most annoying people we’ve met on our trip and she will no doubt occupy a prime spot.

Lo and behold it was the worst bus ride ever. It was very hot and stuffy so people decided to keep the windows open since there was no AC like we had been told. Also, the roads were so dusty that we got covered in a film of dust and could scribble our names on our skin (it ended up taking two washings to get the dust out of our clothes). After five grueling hours, we reached the Cambodia/Thai border and were left to our own devices to cross over, so it took about two hours for everyone to figure it out. While waiting we watched in disgust as a young boy, probably the age of 5 or 6, was holding a baby strapped to him like a beat up rag-doll. He almost dropped the baby numerous times and his gap-toothed grin seemed to widen with each near drop. Jason wanted to reach out and throttle him but we just had to look the other way. We wondered why these kids didn’t sell bottles of water or something useful instead of just begging for money. After waiting for so long, we were relieved to get onto a bus that actually was air conditioned and drove for 4 more hours to finally reach Bangkok. The total trip took 13 hours but felt like 31 although it could have been worse we figured after seeing this.We imagined taking this bus the other way and how awful it must be for people to endure this ride and then be greeted in Cambodia by the insanity at the bus station. Other travelers we’d met had their entire stays in Cambodia ruined because of a negative chain-reaction, like we had experienced in Vietnam. If any of you plan to head to Siem Reap from Thailand, we highly recommend you take the flight rather than risk ruining your entire perceptions of what will hopefully once again be a great country.

Bangkok Redux

Until the week before, we didn’t think we’d be able to meet up with our friends Paul and Sapna, who are also traveling around the world but in the opposite direction (see link in right-hand column). We convinced them to stay at the Merry V hostel, which had been our accommodation during 7 weeks prior. Despite being completely exhausted from the bus trip, our adrenaline kicked in when we saw them sitting outside eating dinner. After freshening up, we shared some of our crazy adventures before heading out to hear some rockin’ live blues music. We had a great time hanging out, and Jason and Sapna managed to see the sunrise after staying out all night. The following night we ate some excellent Thai food and then for desert we sampled some of the local critters. ‘We’ in this instance doesn’t include Priti, as she refused to partake in the exotic snacks. Sapna was enthusiastic but quickly lost it after crunching into her first critter. Jason and Paul chomped on the roasted roaches, grubs and grasshoppers and Jason even got another order of the latter, which he claimed tasted like soy-flavored potato crisps. Also, his distaste for roaches has dissipated since once you’ve eaten them, they lose their gross-out power. J Then we wandered around the area and Jason managed to find a Big Lebowski shirt with a picture of the Dude above the caption ‘The Dude Abides.’ Sapna found it hysterical and had successfully predicted that he would be buying at least one goofy t-shirt in Bangkok. Although we somehow managed not to talk about it, we found out later that they were taken by the same tuk-tuk scammer as us (see Thailand entry)!

The next morning we said farewell and wished we’d had more time together. Jason, still suffering with respiratory problems that he’d had since climbing Mt. Kinabalu two months earlier, went to the hospital. He unfortunately had bronchitis but once again the Thai medical care proved reliable, albeit not nearly as cheap as Priti’s care in Chiang Mai. Although we had enjoyed our time in SE Asia, we were ready to move on and are very excited to be heading to our most anticipated destination, the subcontinent of India. (In actuality we have already left India but have had trouble finding high-speed internet to upload our pictures but India updates will be forthcoming very soon; yeah yeah we know you've heard that before).

Vietnam

2008-01-29T09:01:00.000-08:00

Gooood morning Vietnaaaaaaam! Well, actually we arrived in Hanoi in the evening and on our 90 minute bus ride into the city we passed dozens of rice fields being tilled by farmers in their conical hats and witnessed an incredibly huge red sunset, which we marveled at how we could stare directly into it. In terms of expectations before we started our trip,

Vietnam

was near the top of our list. Along with the positive feedback we had heard from other travelers, we had both read a couple good books during our trip, including “Hitchhiking Vietnam” (one woman’s courageous/foolish attempt to traverse the Ho Chi Minh trail in 1994, shortly after Vietnam re-opened its borders to Americans), and “A People’s History of the Vietnam War” which offered perspectives of the “American War” (as the Vietnamese call it) usually left out of American history books (e.g., the Veitnamese villagers and anti-war GIs).

As we entered the capital city, we couldn’t believe the insanity of traffic. We played a game of trying to count to five before hearing any horns and never even made it to three. In the major intersections, which are massive, hundreds of motorbikes entered from every direction without slowing down, miraculously weaved through/around dozens of others, and continued onward; a spectacle that has to be seen to be believed. We would learn later that there are about ten million motorbikes in Hanoi and that means just as many insane/incredible drivers. Also, we learned to cross the street at a slow and steady pace so that the motorcyclists could avoid us, rather than stopping and going which would cause confusion. We were pretty psyched to score a nice big room with A/C, king size bed, French décor, and a balcony for $8/night. The manager asked us about taking one of the popular tours but we were too hungry to think, so we ventured out and ate at one of the countless street vendors that had many items to choose from. Feeling adventurous, we sampled frog and caterpillar larvae. As expected, the frogs tasted like chicken but were very juicy. The caterpillars tasted okay, with a crunchy outer shell and mushy inside but Jason for some reason put a huge scoop on his plate and as the meal wore on, the sight of them began to make us nauseous but nevertheless we managed to clean our plates. Then we went to a bar where a Grateful Dead cover band was playing, which brought Jason back to his days in Chicago doing the same with the Attics, although the closing time of 11 pm was much too early. When we got back to the guest house, it was chained shut, but one of the family members who was sleeping on the floor of the lobby let us in.

Early the next morning, we regretted taking a room with a balcony, as the incessant noise pollution started at about 6 am. We spent the next couple days sightseeing and headed first to the military museum. There were many interesting exhibits from the war, including some of the tanks and planes that had been in combat. It was an emotional roller coaster, with much sadness at the senseless tragedy of the entire war mixed with inspiration at seeing the world unite in opposition to the imperialistic U.S. government. We hope that the world can once again unite in similar fashion vis a vis the Middle East before it’s too late. Our next stop was the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, which is as big as a city block and indicative of the nation’s unquestioning devotion to their deceased revolutionary leader. His picture graces every Dong note. His name (which was a pseudonym meaning “the enlightened one”) is repeated in their national anthem, and there were as many if not more shrines devoted to him than Buddha. Yet, despite his wishes to be cremated, his body was preserved and displayed at his mausoleum, although we didn’t see it because each November his body is transported to Russia to pay homage to their shared Communist roots. Another reminder of those shared roots was Lenin Park, where there is a large statue of Ho Chi Minh’s ideological forefather.

The next day we fortunately found a sanctuary within the chaos: the Temple of Literature. Many centuries ago, the Chinese controlled Northern Vietnam and this grand structure was a remnant of that era. Having traveled so close but not actually entering China, we have been fascinated by how strong of an influence it exerts over all of Southeast Asia. Confucian shrines were scattered throughout the grounds. The highlight for Jason was the free traditional Vietnamese music show. (Videos will be appearing soon if they’re not already posted.) We then strolled into the adjacent park and saw many elderly folks doing calisthenics or playing badminton, while the younger crowd played a game like hacky sack, except using a cartridge-like object with a feather on the end. The lowlight of the day was when we saw an elderly woman squat and urinate on top of a pile of garbage. As dusk settled, we strolled along the picturesque lake, where every bench was occupied by a couple. After a yummy dinner of noodle soup, we set out to find a dance club on the red river. What appeared on the map to be a short jaunt turned out to be a lengthy hike and we got lost down some random alley where a nice family invited us to dinner but with bellies already full we declined. We eventually made it to the club at about 11:15, and the place was nearly empty and the music was top 40 garbage. But soon a steady stream started filing in and a good vibe was developing, when suddenly the music stopped and the manager became frantic. A few minutes later, some army officers entered and shut the place down because it was midnight. A group who had just arrived and ordered a bottle of vodka with mixers started taking shots to finish up their booze and then jet. We felt like we were in high school again, having a party broken up by the cops. While walking out, we ran into an English speaking Vietnamese woman who explained that all of Hanoi has a midnight curfew and that the only places that stay open late are fancy hotels that can afford to bribe the curfew police.

Our next adventure was a three-day tour of Halong Bay, which consists of hundreds of limestone islands scattered throughout the South China Sea. The next morning, when we checked out of our hotel, the manager unsuccessfully tried charging us 30% more because we didn’t book a tour through him. Instead, we booked directly through one of the companies that runs the tours. When we arrived at the dock, we started chatting with a couple on the same tour who were living in China (he was Chinese-American, she was Chinese). They had also been around SE Asia and were on their way back to China, and painted a very negative picture of Vietnam, saying they’d never come back because the people were abrasive, greedy and conniving. We would soon find out exactly what they meant. After getting on our boat at 11 am, we sat on the dock for two hours waiting because our guide, who was “English-speaking” per the tour agency, couldn’t speak more than a few words of English and had no idea what was going on. We speculated that they were trying to get last minute people on board, none of whom materialized. After eating an ok lunch, we were taken to the largest and most impressive cave we’ve ever seen, which was lit up with varying colors. Because our guide was frantically running around trying to figure out who among our tour had tickets for the caves (we all should have but apparently some did not), we tagged along with another English speaking tour guide. After the caves, we docked on an island to pick up more passengers. Although we were supposed to sleep on the boat the first night, since they’d overbooked, we were going to a hotel. So we sat at the dock for another hour, waiting to be transported to the hotel by a new “English speaking guide” (the first one had supposedly been fired and sent back). A drunk obnoxious German guy who got on the boat started yelling about his passport and put us all on edge when he acted as if it had been lost (which it hadn’t). Nonetheless, they managed to drop another woman’s passport into the water. After they finally straightened out who was going where, we waved farewell to the Chinese couple, whose Vietnam nightmare culminated that night on the boat we should have been on (but first our story).

When we packed in to the van, there was not enough room, because a French couple had been scammed and their receipt didn’t have transport to the hotel listed. There was another bus but after woman yelled at several people, the other driver refused to take her and closed the bus door in her face. Rather than pay the $5 it would’ve cost her to get a motocab (i.e., riding on the back of a motorcycle), she started bawling and screamed at the rest of us in the van, “I can’t believe you guys are just gonna leave us here like this!” Jason was laughing at her, but some other French tourists took pity and we managed to squeeze them in at our expense, as both of us had to endure the hour long journey across the island with huge bags on our laps and in our leg space. We never determined why the boat didn’t just dock on the other side of the island where the hotels were located. Upon arriving at the hotel, we discovered that it was well outside of the town (and its beach) and we were the only ones staying there. All of us were pretty agitated by this point, and then the guide explained that the next afternoon we were on our own, even though there was nothing for us to do. When we booked the tour, we had actually paid extra to have an afternoon of kayaking, but it took us almost two hours to get the guide to agree that we would get what we’d paid for. Ironically, the guide was in school studying “tourism” and the group had fun speculating what the curriculum entailed: misrepresenting tours, counting money, and deflecting responsibility seemed to cover it. But, after things cooled down, we had fun learning some Vietnamese, such as the four different meanings of Ba—grandfather, uncle, mosquito, or disgusting—depending on how it was said (like Chinese, Vietnamese is a tonal language). We also learned how to say “I love you” to each other (Ang You Am/Am You Ang), which generated lots of laughs throughout the rest of our stay.

The next morning, our room had no hot water (despite several claims to the contrary) and we were sent on a pretty strenuous hike where the “English speaking guide” said nothing the entire time. Jason, perhaps subconsciously willing us to the beach, only wore flip-flops and found that they actually provide good traction because they allowed his feet to grip the terrain. On the flip side, they offer little protection and a jagged rock punctured one of them, but fortunately not his foot although it felt like it had. After the hike and after overcoming another stream of objections from the guide about providing kayaks, we went kayaking around some of the islands. The water was disgusting, but the scenery was very similar to El Nido, Philippines so we had a nice afternoon. Then it was back in the van to transfer back to the boat. Incredibly, they didn’t know the tide schedule so we had to wait yet again over an hour because the tide was too low for the boats to dock. This meant we would not be able to kayak in the evening to see the tunnels and caves, which was also promised by the tour agency. To make up for it, we were told we’d be able to see go kayaking the following morning. When we finally got on the boat, we were pleasantly surprised to see the condition of our room which even had its own bathroom with a shower head that wasn’t enclosed! The water in the shower did not drain because the bathroom floor wasn’t slanted enough; so we made sure to sweep the water down so that our room would not flood. After returning to our bedroom following another mediocre dinner, Jason heard a chorus of rats squealing in the walls. Knowing Priti’s fear and loathing of them, when she inquired about the noise, he tried to play it off by telling her “it’s just the wind,” although it didn’t take long for her to figure out we weren’t alone in the room. She did not sleep much, out of fear that one of them would possibly crawl into her bed.

Our tour from hell kept right on rolling as we were awoken at 6 am the following morning to a flooded room. We’re not sure where the water came from, but it ended up covering our bags, though thankfully nothing was ruined. We made our way out to the dock as others were pushing off on fiberglass kayaks. We observed that three of the kayaks were flipped over and had significant holes in the bottoms. As other travelers pushed away in pairs, a quick count revealed that there weren’t enough functioning kayaks for everyone, and of course we were in the back of the line. At this point, Jason became very un-dude as he yelled at them for five minutes (“sorry this, sorry that, it means nothing man!”). Back on the boat, we watched in a mixture of bemusement, incredulity, and RAGE as one of the workers used some epoxy to stick on a handful of fiberglass shreds to “fix” one of the kayaks and then told us, “it’s okay now, you can go.” We obviously chose not to risk it.

The final transfer (which is all this “tour” really was, a series of transfers like a ferry boat) took us to a restaurant back on shore, at which we waited an hour for the rest of the tour groups to arrive before being served another mediocre meal. We decided, along with some Swiss women, who had been completely ripped off and paid twice as much as anyone else, to air our grievances with the tour operator back in Hanoi. After telling the woman who booked us the tour our horrible experiences, she smiled and said that everything was okay since we got to go kayaking; after calling her boss she agreed to refund us $3! When Jason finally got the boss on the phone, she just kept repeating “hello, hello” and feigned incomprehension. We begrudgingly accepted her final offer of $5 (since it was not about the money) but refused to sign off that we had received the refund, thereby pitting the agent against her boss (who was supposedly going to take it out of the agent’s pay). That is how angry we were. The Swiss women were told to take their complaints to the head office down the street; when we arrived in solidarity (again, that angry) there was no one in the office. None of us were surprised. We must apologize as this was undoubtedly painful to read, but trust us it was more painful to live it and then write about it.

The next day in Ninh Binh, a couple hours south of Hanoi, was a complete reversal of our misfortunes. We rented bicycles and went to a river where the scenery was very similar to Halong Bay, with huge limestone rocks on both shores of the river.We avoided the area where there were hundreds of tourist boats and found another boat-woman to take us on her paddle boat. For the entire two hours, as she paddled with her feet, we didn’t see another boat and she took us to her local pagoda which was built right into one of the limestone rocks. We also saw tombstones jutting out of the river. Of course, she screwed us out of change but we didn’t mind since the tour was good. Afterward, we kept riding our bikes and found some more pagodas and caves. Even further, we bumped into some local children who hopped on the backs of our bikes and hung out with us for an hour (though it seemed like more). We met their mother and had fun trying to communicate with no common linguistics. One of the children disappointingly made a grab at Jason’s pocket but was immediately scolded by his mother.

Being kind of pressed for time (or so we thought), we left the following night on an overnight sleeper bus to Hue, which is famous for being ransacked by the North Vietnamese army in their final thrust to defeat the U.S.A. When we got on the bus, there was only one sleeper bed spot open, so one poor guy (who we suspect hadn’t bought a ticket) had to sleep on the floor. Perhaps he slept, because we sure didn’t for more than a few minutes at time, due to the reckless driving and road conditions. For example, Jason awoke several times airborne after the bus had hit a bump. But at least he was in the far back, where the beds were flat, albeit too short for Jason. Priti’s bed, on the other hand, had a metal hump under her back, slanted to make room for the feet of the person behind her. In addition, the intoxicated person above her dropped her blanket several times, requesting Priti retrieve for her. After a few times, Priti feigned being asleep.

Hue was not very exciting and we left the next day for Hoi An, a charming city with a flourishing art scene and where many foreigners go to get inexpensive tailored clothes. Hand-tailored wool suits run about $40 while custom-made suede shoes can be had for $20. Jason, who is like a woman when it comes to shoes, almost succumbed but thought better since he had no room in his luggage for them. We heard stories of people getting ripped off and getting ill-fitting suits, but only when they paid beforehand. Caveat emptor! We explored the market and saw all kinds of interesting seafood. We ended up tasting some of it that night with a five-course meal that ended with mouth-watering string-ray. Jason spent the following day at the beach while Priti went shopping at the market. The beach was somewhat relaxing, although Jason had to ignore the constant harassment from the beach vendors and stay vigilant every time he went in the water. That evening, we met up with Duong, a member of the Danang Easy Riders, who offer motorbike tours of the central highlands. Duong had a number of nicknames, including Uncle #9 since he was the ninth child of his father, who had four wives in different cities. He showed us a notebook full of positive feedback from previous customers and we agreed on a five-day trip to Dalat. Although the cost was steep by Vietnam standards ($110 per day for both of us), we naively figured that we could bypass the constant harassment by getting out of the standard tourist loop (i.e., down the coast). We were ready to put the past behind us and see the real Vietnam!

After securing our bags to the backs of the bikes, we set off into the countryside. The tour started off well enough, and our first stop was a local village where we got to try our hands at making pottery on a manual foot-spun wheel. Duong and Hong then dropped us off at ancient Cham ruins in My Son. The Cham people are Hindus who centuries back controlled a good portion of central Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. Unfortunately for them, they were divided and conquered and now only scattered villages remain of the once mighty empire. As with most ancient sites in SE Asia, the heads were removed from most of the statues. We also got to see a traditional dance show full of beautiful dancers with incredible control of their bodies. We stopped for lunch and the first crack appeared when we ended up paying the entire lunch bill, which was not part of our agreement with the Easy Riders. That afternoon, we passed through another village where we witnessed how noodles and rice wine were made. We also stopped at a waterfall adjacent to the Ho Chi Minh trail. When we arrived at our first guest house, we were pretty annoyed because it was a total dump and we’d been told our accommodations would be nice. When the bill arrived after dinner, which consisted of a series of dishes highlighted with a scrumptious tuna steak, we had to remind them that we were not covering their meals and alcohol. Jason also tried the “happy water,” as they called the local rice wine, but since we were both pretty tired, we headed to bed fairly early.

The next morning we were annoyed but not surprised that our room did not have hot water. When we expressed our displeasure with our room, our guides assured us the next guest house would be much nicer. The weather looked ominous and sure enough it began to rain as we ascended into a mountain range. The scenery was gorgeous and their rain gear kept us dry, although the bitter cold was quickly becoming a major obstacle to enjoying the ride. Thankfully the rain and cold dissipated as we descended back down the other side of the mountains and soon we were removing most of the layers we’d piled on that morning. We stopped at a coffee plantation where one of the workers was smoking tobacco from what appeared to be a bong. He generously offered Jason a sample of his smoke and it was the strongest tobacco he’d ever had; the next hour flew right by. We continued on to another village that was extremely poor, yet incredibly one of the hovels had a satellite dish attached. Our final stop was a local orphanage that was filled with children who had been abandoned by village teens not yet ready or willing for parenthood. We brought lots of candies although Kleenex would have been more appropriate, since most of the kids had runny noses and dirty (and quickly sticky) hands. It was sad seeing so many orphans but most of them seemed like pretty good kids, and whenever we picked them up they did not want to be put back down. Priti joined some of the girls in a game of Chinese jumprope, a game reminiscent of her own childhood. That evening, we were taken to a very nice guest house as well as a splendid restaurant. Duong shared some hilarious stories about the villagers who were notoriously bad about using birth control, despite repeated attempts to educate them. One pubescent couple, who procreated shortly after finishing one of the classes, explained that the boy had put the jacket on his thumb each time, just like they’d seen in the class! Another one explained that the jacket was too long so he cut off the end. Priti was particularly amused considering she had taught safe-sex education classes for the American Red Cross. Duong also made what would turn out to be an interesting comment about how he had on occasion ended tours early when he didn’t like his traveling companions.

The next morning, after refreshing hot showers, we enjoyed a relaxing breakfast in a beautiful garden attached to our guesthouse; the calm before the storm. Hong informed us that Duong’s father had passed away that night and he had to return to his family. But, he assured us, he had contacted another Easy Rider to take his place. We momentarily considered our options, but figured the Easy Riders were a reputable group and it would be ok. When we saw Duong’s replacement, a local who spoke no English and had a scooter rather than a motorbike, we knew immediately that our tour would be ending earlier than expected. Of course, since we’d paid for three days up front, we were pretty much stuck that day, knowing our chances of getting refunded were nil. It took over an hour just to get Priti’s bag secured onto the scooter so we got a late start to what was to be the longest day in terms of distance: over 200 kms (120 miles). To those used to U.S. Interstates, that may not seem like much, but in Vietnam that is a vast expanse, especially on a scooter. One of the bikes also had a flat tire that needed repaired. Thus, due to our late start, rather than stopping every half hour, as Duong had the first two days to give our bums a rest, we stopped about every 90-120 minutes. And instead of funny anecdotes, Hong’s broken English mostly eluded us. The afternoon became so painful that each of us was counting the kms until our arrival, even gauging our speed by counting the seconds between each marker. One scary moment came when Hong and another driver were weaving through a herd of cows that were crossing the road, and one of them backed right into Jason’s leg, nearly spilling them off the motorbike. Jason also suffered windburn on his face since his helmet had no faceguard. Priti’s helmet from the replacement driver was too big so it offered virtually no protection. She had scary thoughts about frontal lobe damage if there was an accident. During our breaks, we planned our exit strategy and braced ourselves for the totally uncomfortable evening we were about to endure. On the one hand, we felt guilty about canceling the tour early; given the devotion the Vietnamese have to their ancestors, we doubted Duong’s absence was fabricated. On the other, much larger hand, we recalled his comment about ending tours early, and Hong had flat-out lied to us about finding another Easy Rider.

Upon arriving at the guest house, we informed Hong of our decision and, although he looked disappointed, he seemed to take it in stride and even invited us to dinner, which were these delicious spring rolls of pork and veggies wrapped in rice paper (Nem Nuong). As dinner winded down, Hong gathered the nerve to ask us what he’d been planning to since we’d informed him we were done with the trip—to pay for the remainder of it! Flabbergasted, we started out by apologizing and assuring him it wasn’t his fault but he then called his boss, who tried to argue that we had to uphold our “contract”, despite the fact that the person on their end who signed the contract was no longer present. Besides, the contract was for a “sight seeing tour with English speaking guides” on motorbikes; a scooter is not a motorcycle, and we no longer had English speaking guides. The conversation persisted for over an hour as Hong tried to use every possible means of manipulation he could muster with his limited English skills while we looked at him with that mixture of incredulity, bemusement, and RAGE with which we had grown accustomed. Finally, Priti had had it and yelled at him in the restaurant and then stormed out. Jason tried to keep the atmosphere amicable but he too began to sense it was once again all about the money and both of us finally gave up on this country of which we had such high hopes. We demanded the hotel give us a receipt for the room, since Hong had claimed to pay for it, but we know he made it back when they completely ripped us off on our onward bus ticket. But, we were just happy to be moving on and from that night forward we no longer cared what we saw and just counted down the days, like kilometers, until we left Vietnam.

After a long day on a bus, we reached the mountainous city of Dalat. The word that is ubiquitously associated with Dalat is kitsch, and for good reason. Sitting atop the central highlands, Dalat looks over the rest of Vietnam as if from another continent, perhaps Europe or even North America, with its scenic pine forests and vacation homes perched atop each hill. One of Jason’s favorite authors, Milan Kundera, discusses kitsch at length in his novel, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, in reference to the Communists in the Czech Republic. In Dalat, Jason finally understood the true meaning of kitsch, as vainglorious fountains adorned ponds that sat adjacent to sewage-covered ghettos, and trees lining the lake took up the entire sidewalk for no apparent reason. Another fine example is the so-called "Crazy House" that is under construction. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful city and full of outdoor activities such as mountain biking, rockclimbing, and kayaking. Of course, when Jason went to book a mountain biking excursion, it was both completely overpriced and booked up until our departure. At least we enjoyed a fabulous dinner of curry with freshwater eel and got to sample a variety of dried fruits at the local market, including strawberries, kiwis, and Jason’s favorite, sweet potato. At night, Jason hung out with a couple Americans who had some crazy travel stories about Central America including having machine guns pointed at them in El Salvador by the Frito Banditos (literally, the guards were protecting a truck filled with snack foods)!

Our last stop was Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon; it seemed whenever we said one the other person repeated back the other. We’d been warned by Lonely Planet that the thieves were the best in the country so we discussed staying on guard before leaving our guest house. On the first main street we came too, a group of young boys came up and we immediately secured our valuables. One of them asked for a high five so Jason gave him one with the hand that wasn’t holding his wallet. After booking a one-day tour of the Mekong Delta (we’d originally planned a longer tour but we refused to be fooled again), we set off in search for a restaurant also listed in the guidebook that didn’t seem too far away. An hour later, we stood in front of the address listed, grrrr. We finally sat down to dinner when Jason realized that a pack of clove cigarettes in his pant pockets were missing; the group of kids had swiped them! Clever devils, we had to hand it to them, but at least they didn’t get much.

We kept our expectations at ground-level for our final tour of the Mekong Delta. Thus, we were pleasantly surprised when our guide actually spoke English and even told some jokes. But, he was somehow the guide of two boats full of people and when he jumped on the other boat, we lost our guide. We just had to laugh. Of course, the one thing we hoped to see were the floating markets but by the time we arrived they had ended. That evening we hung out with Jon, from Hollywood, and Brefanie from Ireland. Thus, on our last night in Vietnam, we learned what had happened to the Chinese couple we had met on our “tour” in Halong Bay. While everyone else was up on the top deck, two of the staff busted in and harassed the woman while she was sitting on the toilet. Priti tried to imagine the trauma this must have induced for this poor woman while Jason considered the violence that would have ensued had it been us. The next morning Brefanie’s room flooded which reminded us of our flooded cabin on the Halong Bay boat. Breffnie joined us in counting down the hours left until we were out of Vietnam and in Cambodia. As we cruised through the Delta, it was interesting to see the boat villages but this writer is ready to finally put these memories behind him. When we finally crossed the border, we gave Vietnam a final piece of our minds, and the giggles from the Cambodian children told us we weren’t the first to offer that salutation. (Warning: picture of salutation, located in the Cambodia gallery, is not appropriate for viewers under the age of thirteen.) For those of you who have seen Team America, we actually came up with alternate lyrics for the main them, replacing ‘America’ with ‘Vietnam’, and ’yeah’ with ‘you.’

Laos

2008-01-13T10:18:00.000-08:00

Our original itinerary of Southeast Asia included only Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam; however, after hearing several travelers’ descriptions of Laos (the “s” is silent) as “what Thailand was 20 years ago,” we couldn’t resist. Ironically, given Laos’ remoteness, there is a standard travel circuit on which nearly every other tourist embarks: cross the border from northern Thailand, then take a boat down the Mekong river to Luang Prabang, then head south to the capital city of Vientienne via Vang Veng. After our trekking experience in Chiang Mai, we were determined to venture further from the tourist trail. Thus, after crossing the border by boat, we hopped on a local bus heading north to Luang Nam Tha and then onward to Muang Sing, just 10 km south of the Chinese border. Along the way, we stopped at a local market and the driver picked up his wife who had purchased some food. When we stopped about an hour later, the couple invited us to share their food while squatting on the side of the road. Jason was the only one who joined them, and was generously treated to a fine meal of fatty pork, a vegetable he’d never scene before, and sticky rice. In turn, Jason shared with them some coconut balls we’d gotten in Thailand. We’d been forewarned that traveling in Laos was time consuming so we expected complications but our connecting bus left just 10 minutes after arrival. (Concerning the slow pace, locals like to say that Laos PDR stands for “People Don’t Rush” rather than People’s Democratic Republic.) Packed in to a small van with eight other men we departed. One of the passengers carried on a canister which initially blasted our noses with the overwhelming odor of gasoline, despite the windows being down. Over time we unfortunately acclimated to this smell, and an even more disturbing stench began to materalize: a toxic combination of two-week old BO and rotting meat. Once the man with the gas can got dropped off, the air quickly became unbreathable. The driver grew very agitated and gave each of us piercing stares in the rearview mirror while we each looked around trying to pinpoint the malodorous culprit. After what seemed an eternity, the bus driver finally stopped the bus and threw the two passengers off who were sitting directly behind us, in the middle of nowhere. Breathing a collective sigh, we continued north through some beautiful rolling green mountains, stopping occasionally to peruse the the freshly slaughtered giant rabbits that were on display on the side of the road. It was a crazy ride to say the least.

Our purpose in going to Muang Sing was to go on a village trek and according to Lonely Planet (LP) this was the best spot to do them. And now a brief tangent about LP. Having been using LPs throughout our trip we’ve developed a love/hate relationship with it. On the one hand, it is indispensable for traveling in a foreign country unless one meticulously plans beforehand, which all but eliminates any spontaneity, one of the joys of travel. On the other, much larger, hand, LP can be extremely annoying. The information is often outdated (even in a brand new edition since the time interval to press is about two years), the recommended guesthouses and restaurants generally inflate their prices because of the increased demand, and many travelers rely on it like a crutch (including us at times). Nonetheless, in this particular instance, we would have never known about Muang Sing without LP. Yet had we followed their advice and gone with the government-sponsored trekking company (the only one listed in the most recent LP) we would’ve been disappointed since the authenticity of the experience had been virtually eliminated due to overexposure (according to other trekkers who’d just returned). Fortunately, a brand new company had just been launched a few months prior that had formed a collective of ten villages to prevent overexposure. Due to its heftier price (nearly double its competitor) and absence from the LP, the demand was low enough so that treks were being scheduled once or twice a week rather than daily. At that rate, each village will only receive visitors about once per month. We can only hope it somehow escapes the next edition of LP.

Our trekking group consisted entirely of folks from countries we’d yet to meet fellow travelers: Gui from Brazil, who like us was on his way to India (to study meditation in an ashram), two Israeli women, and a couple from Belgium and Slovenia. The morning started off on a leisurely pace, which was good since Priti was still feeling the ill effects of our medication. Even at that pace, the Israeli women lagged far behind, putting us well behind schedule. Along the way, our trekking guides chopped down some fresh sugar cane which we eagerly chewed. After a few hours, we arrived at a couple of beautiful waterfalls under which Jason and Gui had a frigid swim. There, we met up with some of the villagers in their colorful traditional garb, who cooked us lunch served on banana leafs. After lunch, we split into two groups: Jason, Gui, and the European couple were lured on an “adventure” to another waterfall that had never been visited by non-locals while Priti and the Israelis took a more relaxed path to the Ahka village where we were sleeping that night. For Jason’s group, the adventure started immediately as they climbed nearly vertically adjacent to the waterfall before reaching a path after about 15 minutes. The trail eventually vanished and Jason found himself in the precarious situation of descending an incredibly steep mountain where there was no trail and nothing secure to prevent him falling to his death. Whereas the guides, who weighed about 60 kg (130 lbs) could step on the rocks, when Jason stepped on them they slid down the mountain. Even the decayed trees would snap when he grabbed hold. There was about a half-hour time span where he feared each step might be his last. After each of us fell about a half-dozen times (except for Gui, who was younger and more agile), the guides began to dig divets with their knives to give us a modicum of footing. At the bottom of the mountain, by which time Jason had cut open a finger and scraped up his legs, was a river that the guides mistakenly thought would serve as a sufficient trail. After slipping several times on the wet rocks and soaking our shoes we all were getting increasingly frustrated with our “adventure.” The guides themselves seemed unsure about how to proceed and eventually began arguing over whether to continue along the river or head back up another mountain. As the sky was quickly darkening, we decided the river was no longer feasible and demanded a change of course. As we ascended the mountain, it quickly became evident that we would not make it back before nightfall; rather, as the guides informed us, we were still at least three hours from the village! The three hours passed without much incident, although the Slovenian women lost her cool and started yelling at everyone after she fell yet again.

While Jason's life was hanging by a rotting tree, Priti enjoyed a nice easygoing hike with the two Israelis and one of the Ahka tribeswoman who did not speak a word, but throughout the hike had an expression of comfort without looking blissful or smiling or frowning. Upon arriving in the village, Priti was shown our bamboo hut and she also walked around to see some of the other huts on stilts. The children gazed curiously and waved hello while the wild pigs, chicken and ducks roamed free. The exceptions were a whimpering duck and chicken that a young boy carried by the necks. The Israeli girls were freaking out because the animals were being “tortured” and it wasn’t kosher. Priti watched as the animals were slaughtered and had their feathers removed. After the duck’s feathers were removed, a male villager plunged it into almost boiling water and then proceeded to remove more fine feathers. He then took the dead animals and roasted their skin by holding the duck feet above the fire and then removing the webbing of the feet. As the darkness descended, she began to worry about Jason’s group, fearing that perhaps someone had sustained an injury without any way to contact others for help.

When Jason’s group finally arrived nearly two hours late, the five of them were sore, exhausted and annoyed that they had been subjected to such danger, even though they all had requested an adventure. The guides were very apologetic and ensured that no tourists would be taken on that “adventure” henceforth. Jason’s annoyance from the hike did not dissipate after being exposed to a scalding hot shower and adding burns to his menagerie of minor injuries. Thankfully, the dinner the Akha villagers prepared for us was spectacular—ten different dishes including the fresh chicken and duck mixed together, cabbage soup, mixed veggies dish, and an incredible pumpkin curry. The villagers were with us the entire time, enjoying the meal and not hassling us. After our superb meal, everyone (except Priti due to her lingering esophageal pain) drank Lao-Lao which is the local rice liquor, brewed in the village. This was followed by the villagers sitting around a fire inside the hut and singing some folk songs. Our evening concluded with an interesting massage from the villagers which included having our toes individually pulled until they popped, causing each of us to laugh and yelp in pain.

The following morning, Priti arose earlier than most and walked along the village. The children initially were very coy and hid partially behind doorways, peering out at the strangely dressed woman. After awhile, they then came down and wanted their pictures taken, which Priti happily obliged. Later we were treated to another ten course meal and filled our bellies in preparation for the day’s hike to several more villages. As we visited each one, we commented on how we felt like we were the ones being observed as much as observing and how it was as if we were in a National Geographic special. The villages were all stilt houses made of bamboo and wood with thatched roofs made of banana leaves. One of them had just received electricity, as evidenced by its brand new watt hour meter reading of two. Oblivious to our presence, some of the women walked around bare-chested while others breastfed, a stark contrast to western culture, which shamefully treats breastfeeding as if it’s a taboo. Kids were running around sans clothing as well, playing a form of bowling with tattered sandals and rusted aluminum cans. People were comfortable being themselves; a wonderful environment that we felt extremely privileged to witness. We ventured onward to another village where they tried teaching us how to spin cotton and Priti enjoyed the effort despite her failure to keep the thread in tact. After their demonstration, the village people gave us a gift of handmade, woven pouches. It was awesome. Some of the boys showed off their slingshot skills while Jason chased several of the girls, who ran away laughing and screaming (save for one who was mute). We were then shown that village’s "bachelor" room, which is a tiny room attached to the family’s home in which their young son can practice having sex with other women. There’s also such a thing as a youth leader who, if a boy is interested, can ask a girl to spend the night with him, even if she already has a boyfriend. The girl cannot refuse and if she becomes pregnant, another older man in the village marries her or shy gets kicked out of the village! Despite our revulsion with such oppressive traditions and Jason’s near-death experience, we thoroughly enjoyed the Akha experience.

After we were finished trekking, we caught a tuk-tuk that died in the middle of nowhere. Some of us were concerned because we were planning to catch a bus to Nam Tra, that was to depart just minutes hence. Luckily, a truck with an open back was driving by and our tour guide asked if we could hop on. We all got on the back, standing up while two locals sat on a tire. It was fun having the wind blow in our face as we drove through town. The locals quizzically stared as we drove by. Thankfully, we didn’t miss our bus and made it back to Luang Nam Tha. That evening, we went to some type of carnival, where vendors sold all types of food and the children played a game that involved throwing darts at a board filled with balloons; three hits resulted in a prize. Jason, despite being a regular darts player, was unable to win after repeated attempts. The evening was also significant because it was our first taste of BeerLao, which is one of the best beers on earth and costs about $1 for a big bottle (i.e., 2 beers).
Early the next morning we arrived at the bus station, and were disappointed that our bus was not departing for another two hours, especially since we knew it was going to be a long journey. During the ten hour ride, we stopped for several restroom breaks, which consisted of stopping on the road and all of us fanning out along the road; men turned their backs and women squatted discreetly a meter into the brush. About four hours into the trip, as we passed a motorcycle, there was a loud crash as the front window next to the driver shattered. We turned around expecting to see the motorist on the ground, but apparently there was another cause as the motorcyclist kept going. The mystery remained unsolved after a half hour of sitting there trying to figure out what had happened. About an hour later, the bus suffered a flat tire, which is virtually inevitable on this route due to the condition and windiness of the road. After we arrived in Luang Prabang, Jason discovered that his water bottle and sunglasses (his 6th pair thus far on the trip!) had been swiped by another passenger.

From what we had heard and read about Luang Prabang (another LP), it seemed like it would be one of those cities that has its own distinct culture. There was a heavy French influence, and it seemed like everywhere we turned there were French tourists, of whom we’d encountered very few in our travels thus far.

There is a huge hill in the middle, with a series of Buddhist Wats atop it, as well as inside a series of caves within the hill, one of which apparently contained a footprint of Buddha. The top of the hill is also a popular sunset spot, according to LP (the guidebook). Granted, it was a nice view with the sun setting over a mountaintop, but it was also a zoo up there, with tourists of all nationalities jostling for the best spot and some openly shoving others in their zeal to get the perfect picture. Jason was nearly knocked over a ledge by a European with a camera lens bigger than his concern for others' safety. Later that night, we ran into Carol, a Californian we’d hung out with in Pai. She seemed a bit out of it and recounted her horrific journey on the overnight bus from Pai. The driver, intoxicated, had crashed their bus into a tree at about 4 am. Most of the eight passengers sustained concussions and one suffered a broken arm. The driver suffered the worst, as he broke all four of his limbs and fractured his skull. His survival seemed dubious. As Carol was relating her traumatic story, a tuk-tuk drove by filled with drunken men singing Ole Ole and hanging out of the vehicle. “Oh, those were the guys on the bus with us, they’ve lost their minds,” she said, before excusing herself to get some rest. Priti, mindful of our guesthouse’s 11 pm curfew, also retired for the evening, but Jason sensed adventure so he wandered off in the direction of the tuk-tuk. After a brief visit to one of the three bars in town, he learned that the only late-night spot was a bowling alley outside of the city limits. When he arrived, he witnessed pure mayhem as seemingly every table had a half-empty bottle of whiskey on it and the noise-level prevented the formation of all but the most basic thoughts. Jason spotted several of the folks from Pai and joined them in a chaotic game of bowling. Incidentally, he bowled one of his best games ever, including a turkey (i.e., three strikes in a row). It was one of the Irish guys’ birthdays and so they decided, in their post-concussive and inebriated states, that they needed to do something crazy. Before Jason knew what was happening, two of them ran down the lanes and sprawled themselves out, completely naked! Laotians are a modest people, and they love their bowling, so the Irishman’s antics were about the most offensive thing they could have done. The manager quickly hauled them off and called in a higher authority, who seemed to be like the mayor of the town. Upon hearing their transgressions, he immediately banished them from not just the city, but from the country! Some uniformed men arrived shortly thereafter and took them away while the rest of us looked at each other in disbelief. Upon returning to the guesthouse, it was locked, but fortunately Jason was able to wake up one of the workers to let him. Others were not so lucky and were unable to get into their rooms until 6 am the following morning.

The following day we explored the city, visiting a couple more Wats and shopping at the massive market. For lunch we feasted on some fresh baguettes. We noticed a sign advertising a Thanksgiving feast and were shocked that one of our favorite holidays almost passed without our noticing. Nonetheless, given the brevity of our visit, we stuck with the local food and were rewarded with some excellent coconut curry steamed fish in a banana leaf and kai-pan, a local specialty which consisted of fried seaweed and a chili paste to dip it in. Jason loved it so much that he ordered it with every subsequent meal and even got some of the chili paste for the road. That evening we were entertained by a cultural event put on by a local children's group, that included a series of dances and puppet shows.

Although we were thoroughly enjoying Laos, we were greatly anticipating Vietnam so we booked a flight to Hanoi for the following day, after a just a week in this gem of a country. For those of you considering a trip to SE Asia, make sure you avoid our mistake of neglecting Laos as there was much of it we had to forgo due to time constraints.

Thailand

2007-12-19T22:38:00.000-08:00

Bed bugs and hookers and scammers oh my—welcome to Bangkok. Tired after a long day of travel from Manila, we found a guesthouse near Khao San Road (the backpacker haven) and headed to the streets to find delicious Thai food. The Tom Kha soup Priti ate was steamed with little green hot peppers, the hottest type in the world. Her stomach would pay for that later but she enjoyed every bite. After dinner, we checked out some live Blues music in a small narrow bar that was packed with smokers, causing our early exit. Returning to our guesthouse around midnight, exhausted and ready for bed, we turned over our pillows and discovered bed bugs. Thankfully we had not unpacked any of our bags. After checking out and getting a refund, we were back on Khao San Road, which at the late hour was crawling with prostitutes. White men of all ages openly negotiated prices with the women (undoubtedly girls as well) with their wallets open. Some were bargaining for more than one woman. Eventually, we found a place and a thorough check revealed no bed bugs, a no prostitutes sign, clean white sheets and towels, working air con, a hot shower, and finally, a good night’s sleep.

The following morning we headed by foot to check out some of the sites. Stopping in front of a museum to review our map, we knew that our destination the Grand Palace was nearby. The Grand Palace is the residence of the King of Thailand who at the time was in the hospital. During our stay in Thailand, we would quickly learn that the Thais adore their king, who is the longest standing monarch in the world and is the 9th descendent of the Ramas. Rama I became king by rescuing an emerald green statue of Buddha (which is actually made of Jade) from an ancient Laotian empire that had stolen it. Even the teenagers are very adoring and Thais of all ages frequently wear these garish yellow shirts to show their respect.

From nowhere, a Thai man in his mid-fifties asked us where we wanted to go. We told him where we were headed and he jovially explained that he was a teacher and had learned English a long time ago. He taught us how to say a few important phrases in Thai, which we practiced with him on the sidewalk. Then, he told us that our destination was closed until 2pm, but he could arrange a tuk-tuk (a motorbike with an attached seat on the back that fits two Western people, or six Asians) to take us to a couple of the other Wats (temples) of interest, one of the legitimate Thailand Authority Tourist (TAT) agencies, and then return us to the Grand Palace after it re-opened. What a friendly guy, we thought. He hailed the next tuk-tuk, negotiated a great price, and we were on our way. Our fist stop was a beautiful ornate Wat adorned with lots golden statues of Buddha and had many worshippers. At the second Wat, which wasn’t that interesting, we ran into another friendly Thai who showed us on our map that we were at a different Wat then we had agreed to. Oh well, we figured, perhaps it was on the way. When we arrived at the tour agency, we told the woman we were headed north and she offered us a tour of about 10 days for $900, which was a special deal only available that day. Keep in mind, Thailand is one of the cheapest places in the world to travel. Train rides for ten hours can cost just a few dollars and accommodation can be had for less than $5. We said “No thank you” and left with our tuk-tuk driver. Surprisingly, he then stopped at a silk and wool tailor shop, stating, “Free. Just look. I get petrol voucher.” We shrugged our shoulders. What could it hurt? Since neither Jason nor I needed fancy clothes during our travels, we left the store empty handed. Our driver seemed surprised by our lack of shopping but drove on, making a u-turn out of nowhere and stopping at another TAT office. We looked at each other skeptically but again told the agent our itinerary, only to be quoted an even higher price. Then, despite the fact that we asked our tuk-tuk driver to take us to a specific Wat, he took us to a different one, the Gold Mount. Priti protested but succumbed when the driver said, “Free, free, don’t worry.” After taking many pictures and ringing bells as prayers, we found the parking spot of our tuk-tuk driver empty. He had ditched us. We naively circled around the temple, thinking that we had arrived at a place different from the exit. We hadn’t even paid him! After some time, we realized that we had been the marks in an elaborate scam. Our guidebook had warned us about a few of the other popular scams, such as conning tourists into buying “gems” at ridiculously low prices. When we re-read the warning, however, we felt pretty foolish for not catching on sooner. Our feelings at the end of the day were relief (at not falling for the con) mixed with self-doubt (getting sucked in at all) to annoyance at wasting most of our day.

Fortunately, on our way home, we ran into a weekend festival, similar to the Taste of Chicago, where we feasted on fried eggs with seafood, various breads, and Thai iced coffee. We were stuffed by the time we reached the hotel where we rested before heading out to a club for some dancing. We got denied by about eight cabbies, some of whom laughed at us when we asked them to use their meter. The music was hopping and we enjoyed the scene which was mixed with westerners and locals, mostly women. We wondered how the men determined if the woman were working or genuinely out to have a good time. Anyways, Priti had a few Vodka/Red bulls followed and was unable to fall asleep and her body was buzzing. She learned later that one Red Bull in Thailand is equivalent to three cans of the Red Bull sold in the States. Searching for a taxi at the wee hours of the morning proved to be challenging, not because they were lacking but because the drivers wanted to charge three to four times the cost of the trip. Finally, one agreed to a reasonableFortunately, meandering back to hour hotel, we came across a huge outdoor market that was only around for that weekend (sort of like the Taste of Chicago) where we gorged on satay fixed price (still higher than our trip there) but proceeded to ask for more money when dropping us off...fat chance!

The following day, we decided once again to see the Grand Palace and started walking. We rounded a corner and observed our “teacher” friend sitting on a stoop, watching the tourists walk by. He initially pretended not to recognize us, but Jason greeted him and laughed, “You almost got us, didn’t you?” The “teacher” shrugged his shoulders, tried to look innocent and continued to watch more tourists walk by and figured out whom to approach next. As we walked on, it seemed like every single taxi and tuk-tuk driver would ask, “Where you go?” which was the complete opposite of how they had treated us the day before. Finally, we arrived at the Grand Palace. As we'd discovered in Malaysia, there were different prices for locals (free) versus tourists ($7!). We've discussed with other travelers how that kind of discrimination would result in a lawsuit in the United States or in Europe. Nonetheless, we paid our fees and entered a majestic world of ornate temples, buildings, and landscaping. The Grand Palace is indescribable. It makes the White House look like a cheap motel. We felt like the Japanese in the huge tour groups, living life through our camera lens as we snapped one picture after another, over 100 that day alone. Some of the highlights included the Emerald Buddha (the first picture, though it was much smaller than we'd expected) as well as the largest Reclining Buddha in the world, at about 190 meters (600 ft) long. It's hard to convey how massive it is, but perhaps the following two pictures will help (neither of which were zoomed in at all). Later on, we were ushered into a courtyard, only to sit cross-legged for over an hour with the locals to witness three of Thailand’s princesses walk by and wave. Yippee! Later that night, we explored a different lively neighborhood of Bangkok and went to this bar to watch a Thai boxing match. Although Priti endured it, Jason thought it was exciting and it ended in a knockout. Punches thrown everywhere, jabs, elbows, and knees in the stomach. Immediately after the boxing match was over, the ring transformed into individual platforms and dancers without any rhythm came out who looked like they were fifteen. One even had braces. We left immediately.

Although the food was incredible and the sites amazing, we decided to leave the city and head to Ayuthaya, a town of ancient ruins which is technically an island because it’s surrounded by rivers on all sides. We bought some yummy noodles from a road side shop outside of the train station and enjoyed the city scene gradually transform into rice paddies and hills. After arriving a bit dusty from the open train windows, we enjoyed refreshing watermelon shakes (Priti’s favorite in Thailand) and did a night Wat tour. The temples, from the 13th and 14th century, glowed a pinkish red as the sun was setting. We also went to an elephant camp where they bred Thai elephants and prevent them from being poached. Jason got a kick out of seeing two of the elephants attempting to mate. Check out the video but be forewarned, it’s not PG13 (to be posted soon) and will put every single male to shame.

The following day, we rented bikes and visited many of the same ruins from the night before. One of the highlights was this ancient tree with the face of Buddha carved into it. Sadly, many of the statues were headless, as over time various invaders decapitated them in an effort to suppress the Buddhist faith. We also went to a museum in town where we learned that Buddhist children are supposed to get their hair shaved at the age of one month to indicate that they survived the hardest month. They get their heads shaved again at the age of 11 if girl and age 13 if boy, before puberty. There are also rituals for a woman when she gives birth, about cleansing herself daily for a certain number of days. There was way too much information, but it definitely sparked an interest to learn more about Buddhism and Thai traditions.

We then headed for the train station. Since everything was in written in Thai, it was challenging figuring out which train to get on. However, it was even more challenging trying to get off. Our train was supposed to arrive in Phitsanulok at 8:30 pm and around that time, it made a stop. Having no clue what the signs said, we got off and fortunately showed our ticket to the train station worker, who immediately started shouting and ushered us back onto the train. Priti was on the stairs trying to get her bag through the narrow doorway. Jason was shouting for her to hurry as he gripped the handles and felt the ground start to move beneath his feet. He got on just in the nick of time and after our heart-rates returned to normal, we laughed at our near-miss. With the aid of a few other Thai passengers (despite one elderly woman who completely turned around and faced the window when Jason sat next to her) we arrived in Phitsanulok (or “Pee-loc” as the locals call it) 90 minutes tardy. It took us awhile to find a place so we were famished by the time we got to the night market. Perhaps it was our empty bellies but the food was excellent; Thai noodle soup, a spicy pork dish and for desert these dime sized pancakes with a sweet, gooey cream filling. Our hotel actually had a TV with English speaking channels and having not watched TV in so long, we stayed up late watching some really dumb movie with Jennifer Aniston and Clive Owen. (Jason stares at this last sentence in horror).

From Philok, we took a day trip to the Old City in Sukhothai. After renting bikes, we leisurely went around the ancient ruins. Cows, buffaloes, and stray dogs roamed amongst the temples which were serene and partly crumbled. Three female Buddhist nuns dressed in white and one male Monk dressed in orange were doing a walking mediation around the lake surrounding the ruins. It was very peaceful. We had definitely escaped the chaos of Bangkok. The escape didn’t last too long since we had to return to Philok where a tuk-tuk driver tried to drop us off far from our location and then demanded to be paid a larger sum than the one agreed upon to take us to our actual destination. Fortunately, a group of local teenagers got into the tuk-tuk and negotiated for us to get to the riverside where we dined on disappointing Thai food. In retrospect, we should have skipped Ayutthaya because they are very similar but Sukhothai was nicer.

The next day was another day on the bus to Chiang Mai, a northern city known for its many wats, tasty cuisine, and village trekking. Not surprisingly, the first guesthouse we checked out said they had no available rooms yet changed their tune when we mentioned being interested in trekking. Through another agency we booked a 3day/2night tour of trekking, swimming in waterfalls, visiting villages and interacting with the villagers to learn about their culture, and elephant trekking in the jungle. The tour started off on the wrong note when we showed up the next morning to a closed tour agent. We wondered if we had been scammed again but finally the tour agent appeared and we were ushered around town, picking up more and more passengers until we were practically sitting on top of one another. The tour agent had lied about the maximum number of people. We endured the uncomfortable and cramped ride, first to a local market, and then to the rainforest where we hiked for a few hours, swam in a waterfall pool, and then reached a hilltribe village. Our interactions with the villagers were short lived and thoroughly disappointing. The children ran over to us with woven bracelets in their hands, shoving them into our faces and saying, “10 Baht.” When the tourist would hand over the 10 Baht ($.30), it would quickly disappear and the price suddenly jumped 10-fold. Apparently the 10 Bahts were just a down payment. Similarly, the adults tried to peddle their various wares. As soon as all the sales were made, the villagers vanished and were not seen again. That night, we enjoyed a good Thai meal and hung around the fire, chatting with the other tourists who were all European. Then we slept in a large bamboo and wood stilt building that had elevated platforms on which bamboo mats were spread. The sleeping arrangements were communal with mosquito nets to separate individuals. The bamboo mats were flat without any cushioning and we had to use one of the two blankets to prevent getting sores on our hips and buttocks while sleeping. Priti slept with long underwear, a wool sweater, wool hat and gloves. Despite all the wool, she thought it was cold and worse than camping in a tent in the winter. Jason's night was even worse, as he was forced to repeatedly use the bathroom, which consisted of a disgusting outhouse with a squatting toilet. We could never live in a village.

The next morning, we had a minimalist breakfast of toast, butter, and jam with tea or coffee while the locals and guides ate hearty, warm noodle soup. We were jealous. One of the other travelers was feeling sick, said he was sweating at night, and had GI symptoms. We gave him some Imodium and Tylenol but he clearly wasn't enjoying life so he and his girlfriend said they wanted to leave early with those who had booked just a 2-day trek. Our 2night/3day guide initially asked them why they hadn’t told him at the village where he could have called and arranged the elephant trekking and bamboo rafting for them that day. He also said that it might not work out for them and almost insisted that the Danish continue trekking, even after they promised not to ask for a refund. Only after they put it in writing did the guide relent and let them leave early.

After settling that, our group of eight people hiked for about 4-5 hours. We reached a waterfall where we had lunch that consisted of fried noodles wrapped in banana leaves. Our guide made chopsticks out of a bamboo stalk that he cut from the forest. It was great that our “plates and utensils” were disposable and environmentally friendly. Along with the guide and Daniel, from Germany, Jason jumped off a cliff into the waterfall pool. The water was very strong and the jumpers tried in vain to walk in the pool towards the waterfall, only to be pushed back by the current. We then hiked to the next village during which we didn’t interact with any village people. However, there were 3 really cute puppies that were probably 2-3 weeks old. We had fun playing with them. At this village, they were in the process of building individual huts some of which had been completed. Jason and I opted for our own hut with a private Western toilet and a real bed instead of another night in the communal hut on top of bamboo mats. We had a great meal of red curry fish and some amazing curried pumpkin with rice. The fish was still alive right before dinner and was de-scaled and gutted...yum!

Priti woke up feeling tired and it was painful for her to swallow. She started to get a burning sensation at mid-sternum without any relief from taking antacids. She endured through breakfast. We then walked for an hour or so and got to the elephant trekking. It really wasn’t elephant trekking, rather a big loop through the mud. We felt like backpacks and nearly got sick from the violent lurching throughout the 45 minute ride. Jason didn’t like it whatsoever and said he would never go on an elephant again. We then had a pretty bland lunch of noodles. Our final activity was bamboo rafting. There were two bamboo rafts and Daniel and Jason got into a friendly rivalry, which resulted in Daniel falling into the water and breaking their teams bamboo steering rod. Ha ha. That night we met our trekking group at a good steak buffet for dinner, drinks, and dancing. We had fun dancing. Jason was in his own groove and even played bongos with the band.

The next day was slow and uneventful. Jason's GI symptoms persisted, as did Priti's heartburn symptoms. We managed to see a couple of wats and also scheduled a one day cooking course at the famous Chiang Mai Thai Cookery School. When shopping around for cooking schools, the clincher for this one was that the man who taught the class was a famous Thai TV chef. He walked into the office, we looked at the back cover of the cookbook, raised our eyebrows and the woman trying to sell us the class, said, “Yes, that’s him.” Despite our maladies, we went to the class and made the best spicy Thai food ever, 6 dishes including a desert of steamed banana cake. The entertaining chef tasted Priti’s Tom Kha soup with the tip of his pinky finger and shrugged his shoulders. Although she liked her food, Jason’s was (shockingly) better. We now know who will be doing the Thai cooking when we return home.

After a full day of eating, we relaxed and enjoyed Thai foot massages followed by a night out with friends from our trek. Priti, unfortunately, continued to eat antacids during the night as her heartburn kept getting worse. She abstained from any alcohol since it exacerbates the symptoms. The following morning, after doing some research on the internet, she figured out what medicine to take and bought some at the Australian pharmacy chain sans prescription. We then headed for the small mountain town of Pai with a population of a few thousand. The drive was amazing and luckily we don’t get car sick. The curving roads up the mountains would send us back and forth in our seats. Looking out the windows all you could see were green trees covering misty mountains...similar to Colorado. We arrived in Pai and found a room on the river. This particular guesthouse is famous for having treehouse rooms, but unfortunately those were all occupied. We headed out and were quickly surrounded by yippies (i.e., young lost souls with money but dressed like hippies). The social atmosphere was thus not quite what we had hoped for although the street food was excellent, according to Jason. Priti, by this time, wasn’t eating anything spicy (which was mostly everything available) or any citrus fruits. She had one banana all day and wondered how people could willingly fast for extended periods. It hurt for her to even drink water. Although we were in Pai for a short time, we would see a handful of the same people later in Laos, although our paths were very divergent, as we'll explain in the next entry.

The next morning, at the hour of 8:30am, we decided to catch the 9 am minibus back to Chiang Mai so Priti could visit a doctor. We went to the hospital in town which was recommended by our travel insurance. Priti hadn’t been able to eat for two days and the heartburn wasn’t improving. Although she had done research on the internet, she also knew that she shouldn’t treat herself and the deferred pain from midsternum to her left arm freaked her out. Thailand is known to have one of the best medical and dental systems in Southeast Asia and it was the most efficient medical service we have ever seen. She was ushered by staff from one place to the next – person who had her fill out papers, nurse who checked vitals, doctor, payment for chest x-ray prior to chest x-ray, Priti read chest x-ray while walking to doctor’s office, doctor who read chest x-ray, pharmacy for meds – all within one hour. Priti’s diagnosis – peptic ulcer disease (PUD). The cost of the entire medical visit including the chest x-ray was about fifteen dollars, more than half of which was the x-ray. Although the doctor spoke English, took a good history, and did a focused physical exam, she failed in asking Priti about other medications. Although Priti felt relieved because she had given herself the same diagnosis, she also researched our current meds and learned that the prophylactic malarial pill was the likely culprit rather than the spicy Thai food. (She cannot give up Thai food for the rest of her life!) Her symptoms subsided the day after she stopped taking the pills.

The following day, with a six week supply of PUD medications and the unsatisfied cravings for spicy food for Priti, we traveled to the Mekong River village of Chiang Khong where you can cross into the Lao village of Huay Xai. We had been told that Laos today was what Thailand was like 25 years ago (i.e., much fewer tourists) and we were ready for our next adventure.

Philippines

2007-11-27T07:46:00.000-08:00

Our arrival in the Philippines had an auspicious air as we were greeted with a personal driver; the first and likely last time either of us will be so welcomed. The driver was compliments of Priti’s long-time friend Collette and her husband Joe. Priti went to junior high and high school with Collette but they hadn’t seen each other since 1996.The long awaited reunion would have to wait another two hours to go 30 miles as we sat in traffic heading into the center of Manila. Traffic in Asia, and especially Manila, is not for the faint of heart; although, as Joe would inform us, it is “controlled chaos,” to us uninitiated Westerners there was nothing controlled about it. Lane markings, if present, were ignored; horns were constantly blaring and could signal a number of warnings but mostly meant “get out of my way,” and the bigger vehicle always had the right of way. The most common were jeepneys, which are basically old army jeeps that have been modified to fit two benches in the back and had anything from the Virgin Mary to the Chicago Bulls painted on the outside. As much as we tried to tune out, we were still stressed out just being chauffeured and couldn’t imagine having to drive everyday there.

After catching up with Collette and Joe, and meeting their wonderful daughter Sky, our royal treatment continued as we were taken to the 24^th floor to our very own fully furnished 2-bedroom 2 ½ bathroom condo with a balcony and AC. This place, by far, was the nicest at which we have stayed during our travels. We also were privileged to the services of their two Yayas (nannies) Remia and Wang, who cooked us meals and even did our laundry. Ah, the good life in the Philippines. Of course, this was in stark contrast with the dilapidated metal shacks we passed on the way from airport, where the river bank served as their bathroom and their only source of running water.

During our few days in Manila, we couldn’t help but visit the Mega Mall, which was close by to our residence. The mall has 5 or 6 floors, several “wings”, an ice skating rink, a few cinemas and stations in their public train system. We found ourselves lost at several points. After picking up some supplies at the SM store we were disgusted to learn that they fire most of their employees after five months in order to avoid paying them higher wages which are required by law after that tenure. Perhaps that’s why no one could tell us where to find shampoo, even though at every turn there were three employees looking over our shoulders. We wondered if SM was owned by Wal-Mart? We also visited Intramuros which is the oldest section of Manila and had old monuments and churches in the Spanish style. We learned about the history of the Philippines and how she has struggled for independence, including the importance of Dr. Jose Rizal who, upon his execution in 1897, became a national martyr and for many he is now considered a saint. On the way back, we braved a jeepney ride. Since there wasn’t any glass for the windows, we had to inhale the exhaust from all the other vehicles. Nonetheless, it was an interesting ride, as people got on and off from the back, including the hawkers selling individual cigarettes for a couple pesos ($.05). Although we spent several days in Manila, we recommend that those traveling to the Philippines get out of the capital city as quickly as possible. Despite its lack of appeal, the variety of food in Manila is very satisfying, especially if you have a sweet tooth. It seems that they add sugar to everything, even mayonnaise! And for those ice tea lovers, be warned that it is so sweet that your teeth tingle.

Our escape from the city came when the weekend rolled around and we headed with our hosts toward the provincial town of Tagaytay...at the snail pace of 15mph. Yet when we reached the countryside, we could breathe the difference; the air was clean and you could hear the crickets chirping at night. The roosters woke us up in the morning along with the neighborhood's stray dogs. Although we’d heard the rumor that dog is part of the Philippine cuisine, we never saw it on a menu. From Tagaytay we ventured to Lake Taal which is a lake within a volcano within a lake (within a volcano within a lake….). Very post-modern. We took a small outrigger, a traditional boat, from the larger lake to the volcano and hired horses to trek to the rim of the volcano which overlooked a crater lake. Although we went “horseback riding,” some of these horses were so small that the staff called them “goats” in Tagalog (the Filipino language). At the top of the volcano, we enjoyed some buka or fresh coconut milk through straws and even scooped out the fleshy coconut meat...yum.

Our day of goatback riding was followed by a trip to Anilao, where Jason and Joe went diving Colette is an avid diver but had to abstain since she is pregnant (!) so the girls had fun hanging out all day while the boys dived. Then, we endured the traffic back to Manila where we learned that a “terrorist bomb” had gone off at Glorietta Mall, another mega mall, where Colette’s mom has a store. Later, the news reported that it wasn’t a bomb but fuel stores at the ground level exploded, but this was unconfirmed by the time we left. This unfortunate news was followed by some more bad news; Joe’s sister, who lives near San Diego, lost her house in the devastating wild fires. Thankfully no one was hurt. We ended up going to Glorietta the following day to purchase our onward flights to Palawan. Although we were unable to see the spot of the explosion the acrid air was suffocating and likely toxic. Incredibly, the place was packed, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. On the way back from the mall, we got to experience the joys of Manila's public transport at rush hour. We had to wait as full trains passed by and when we finally got on, we were packed in so tight we couldn't move. And, as was true throughout our stay in the Philippines, Jason was a full head taller than everyone else.

On our last night out, we visited the Hobbit House which employs only “short people” with the exception of the bartender who has to be able to see above the bar. While there, we listened to the headliner Rheena (mistakenly introduced as “Sheena”) who tried to imitate Shakira but without the stage presence and hip shakes. Apparently this was her moment to shine as she was so nervous that she had to use notes to remember to thank her parents. Fortunately for her we were in the back so she couldn’t hear our laughter.

Our next destination was the remote islands of Palawan. We boarded the cozy charter plane that had a maximum capacity of 22, including the pilots who were visible from our seats and within arms length of the front row passengers. The propellers were loud and the ride was beautiful as we flew over hundreds of the 7000 islands that comprise the Philippines in the blue and turquoise water. We arrived at El Nido, whose tiny airport consisted of four wooden posts and a thatched roof and whose runway doubles as the road to the airport. Thus, we had to wait for our airplane to take off with a new set of passengers before Giselle, Colette’s younger sister, and her husband, Mik, picked us up. Mik’s grandfather, former mayor of El Nido, was ill and had asked Mik to take over the family business, the Marina Garden Cottage Resort. From our oceanside cottage, we could hear and see the gentle waves hitting the beach. There is no better way to fall asleep than to the sound of ocean waves. The town of El Nido was not very commercialized, although the markings of development are starting to creep in. There were no hawkers asking you if you need transport or to buy a cheap souvenir. Dozens of children played on the beaches, and some of them skim boarded, which entails running with the board and dropping it down to skim the waves. Normal surfing is impossible because the waves are way too small. Mik’s younger brother Johan and his friends were in the process of creating skimboards for some of the local kids. The beach has a small port which is too tiny for large boats so you get a nice view of the traditional outrigger boats, one of which had been built in the 1940s! Electricity is available only between noon and 4 pm and then again from about 6 pm to 6 am. The roosters and pigs act as a natural alarm clock and a loud horn sounds at 9:45 pm sharp, warning the children that curfew is in fifteen minutes. In addition to all of this, the island is surrounded by hundreds of other lush granite islands. Although the island is peaceful, we found entertainment on our first night, at a restaurant that served the best steaks we’ve eaten since leaving the States. Some locals played live Filipino folk music by Freddie Aguilar and others and Jason even joined in on a homemade bongo drum.

Unfortunately, it rained all through the following day; however, we hung out with our hosts and had many good laughs and Jason and Johan introduced each other to lots of new music. Mik was always willing to share his extensive knowledge of marine wildlife, among other things. Did you know that sharks and manta rays can have offspring? (at least in Mik’s world they can, haha).

The next day, we awoke to menacing looking grey skies. However, after some reassurance from our tour guide Bamboo that the seas would be calm, the four of us, sans Johan who had to “work”, hopped onto the outrigger to go island hopping. We started off in the boat and passed by “Helicopter” Island which we all agreed looked more like a dinosaur than a chopper. When we reached the small lagoon on Miniloc Island, we were happy that Bamboo’s instinct was correct and the rain was gone, leaving us to bask in the sun. This pattern of the sun following us to each destination would persist throughout the day. We got into the water and had been warned about stonefish which are painful and look like coral. Sure enough, within minutes, Bamboo found one and pointed it out to us. We then swam through a small cave opening in the water to a small lagoon which was enclosed by granite walls mixed with lush tropical flora. The water in the lagoon was a mixture of warm ocean water and cold spring water. Under water, we could hear the crackles of the spring water entering the lagoon. We swam through the lagoon to an area where there was an even smaller enclosed area. The water was much colder here and we learned that spiders (even great big hairy ones) can swim. Our next stop was the Big Lagoon on the other side of Miniloc Island which had an entrance just big enough for the boat to get through. Due to millennia of erosion, the granite cliffs had very interesting formations, and Bamboo showed us the most famous ones, including Batman and the Virgin Mary. We then went to the tiny Simizu Island for some snorkeling, where Bamboo caught a puffer fish and we played with it before it waddled away. Bamboo found a secluded and deserted beach at which his assistant BBQ’d pork and fish. After lunch, we proceeded to Snake “Island” which was in actuality just a curving sand bank that connects two islands during low tide. Apparently the official island designator was padding the stats on that one. Then we went to Cudugnon Cave, the entrance of which was tiny, so Bamboo helped us climb through. Although it smelled like bat droppings, the colors were fascinating and changed depending on which way the sun hit the walls. Our final stop of the day was Seven Commando Beach for some more superb snorkelling.

A couple days later the same group (plus Johan) went to see some more islands (there are usually 3 tours but Bamboo combined them into 2 for us). Whereas the first time we went out, the threatening skies proved harmless, this time was the opposite and the rain seemed to follow us around all day. Despite the rain, we enjoyed the misty views and snorkeling, although we all had to endure jellyfish stinging us at one of the spots. While driving through the Tapuitan Straight, we stopped at a church which stood alone on the island without any other establishments. We learned that this church has only one service per year in May. It was set against the green background and above it were granite cliffs. We then went snorkeling at another site where Bamboo, being a conservationist, was angry that the coral was mostly dead due to dynamite fishing even though he'd recently seen it alive. Sadly, even though dynamite fishing is illegal, it still happens in areas not designated (and thus protected) as national parks. This second day of island hopping also included a barbeque lunch at our very own beach. Jason was adventurous enough to eat pork face, including the ear and snout. Priti opted for the fish. Bamboo then took us to the Secret Beach, which was hidden behind huge granite stones and not listed on the maps, meaning we once again had the place to ourselves. Although it had been raining earlier, the water was crystal clear and we could see the sand waves at the bottom. And then all of a sudden, we saw baby black-tipped reef sharks dart across the water with acceleration that seemed impossible. Then, even more incredibly, they made a 270-degree turn without slowing down. After arriving back at the Marina Garden Cottage resort wet and tired, we learned that our flight the following day from El Nido to Basuanga, another island in Palawan, was cancelled. We decided to think about our travel options over a steak dinner but were disappointed to learn that they were out of steak. The thing about Palawan island is that it is so remote that if one place doesn’t have a food item, like beef, that means all the restaurants and stores don’t have it either and won’t until the next shipment. We figured bad things happen in threes – the rain, the cancelled flight, and no delicious steak for dinner.

The following day was the most gorgeous day thus far at El Nido; not a cloud in the sky and totally calm water. We kayaked to a small island called Cadlao that was a few kilometers from El Nido beach. Our own private island – well at least for the afternoon. We basked in the sun and snorkeled around half of it since it was pretty small. The coral was beautiful and untouched since tour groups do not go snorkeling here (they figure it’s too close to El Nido beach to charge people.) While snorkeling, we came across a school of six or seven dark silver/grey barracudas. We hovered, keeping our distance and waiting for them to move along, but they just stayed there, essentially warning us that we were on their turf. Even though we’d been diving with sharks, this was the first time that underwater animals had a truly menacing presence, and when Priti saw one open its jaw and show off its sharp teeth, she ended the snorkeling excursion. No one wants to be a meal for barracuda. During the evening, before dinner we tried chicken intestine from a local vendor. The top part tasted like gizzard but by the end it tasted more like liver...yuk. Luckily another vendor had fried bananas to get rid of the bitter aftertaste. Later, we enjoyed a candlelit dinner with our hosts in their courtyard. Then we moved to the restaurant next door to enjoy desert and more snacks on the beach with the waves crashing literally at our feet.

Our time in Palawan sadly had come to an end and the next day, we lounged on a large outrigger for eight and half hours to Coron, which is well-known for its numerous wreck dives, mostly Japanese ships from WWII. Coron itself is a city built on the water with each building elevated on strong wooden posts. The passageways between homes are rickety bamboo bridges that seemed barely able to withstand our weight. Priti had another go at diving and Jason again fed the addiction he had acquired in Fiji. The coral was the most pristine and colorful that Jason had seen thus far diving and the wrecks were something to behold. Jason even got to go inside (i.e., penetrate) one of the wrecks at a depth of about 30 meters. It was a bit scary but exhilirating to look up and not see sunlight. Also, the bubbles would get trapped in various spots so once they surfaced they continued to see bubbles as if there were ghost divers still underwater. After enjoying a full day of diving, our all-too-brief stay on Coron was done. The next day we were off to Manila which was spent, strangely, at a local cemetery for All Soul's (or Saint's) Day, where we saw thousands of families honoring their deceased relatives by hanging out at their grave sites, lighting candles, and feasting on food. Similar to when we arrived, the contrast between the rich and poor Filipinos was eye-opening; whereas some families relaxed in compounds, others lit effegies in vacant fields littered with debris. We were the only tourists there and thus got some interesting looks from the locals, both positive and negative. We joined in the festivities by sampling some skewered meats and sweets from the street vendors. And onward we go to Thailand where the feasting will continue.

Malaysia

2007-11-05T08:11:00.000-08:00

After arriving in Kuala Lumpur (or KL as the locals call it), Malaysia at 3 am, we caught a teksi into the city and kept looking at each other in trepidation as we zoomed by other vehicles at 160+ kph (100 mph). We arrived in record time at the condo of Mr. Reyes, the father of a childhood friend of Priti’s, who graciously hosted us in KL. As the taxi driver searched for his street, we drove in small circles in the Golden Triangle neighborhood of KL. Despite the hour, the streets were alive with a random assortment of people. The kadai kopis (street cafes) were packed with Muslim Malays eating their morning meal prior to fasting from dawn to dusk for Ramadan. Lamp posts had festive lights dangling from them, as though it were Christmas. Others have compared KL to NYC due to its incredible diversity and active nightlife. Although the majority of the country is Islamic, according to our host, KL is comprised mostly of Chinese, along with Malays and Indians. Thus, the people wore a range of clothes from tank tops and shirts to being fully covered from head to ankle. Many women wore jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts with a head scarf.On our first day, we went to the KLCC mall which is, like most of the malls in Asia, massive. It was six stories tall and had stores, and shoppers, from all over the world. One of the funniest sights we’ve seen on our trip is a group of Japanese tourists marveling at one of the stores in the mall as the tour guide told a fascinating tale about…your guess is as good as ours. One cool thing about the malls in Asia is that many of them host cultural events to offer a reprieve from the consumerism. Thus, we enjoyed a set of traditional Arabic music and watched a fashion show. Despite the fasting period, the restaurants in the mall were open for business. One of them was a desert place that served Durian which is a tropical fruit that was forbidden in Indonesia and

Australia

due to its unpleasant odor. We figured it was now or never so we gave it a try. The “ABC Durian” consisted of pureed durian on top of what looked like shaved ice mixed with an assortment of jelly candies and beans. The smell of durian was malodorous, sort of like rotten meat, yet the taste was sweet and nutty with the texture of sweet potatoes. Surprisingly tasty but something we probably won’t be eating again. Upon leaving the mall we stumbled into a local after-work market selling various skewered meats that we couldn’t resist, despite having full stomachs…yum!

The next day we went to the Petronas Towers, the tallest building in the world at 452 meters.

For some reason, they only let visitors up to the 42^nd floor to the sky bridge that connects the towers. Before they let us ascend, we had to sit through a 3D presentation about the wonders of oil exploration, courtesy of Petronas. The views weren’t that impressive and we were ushered back down after about five minutes. At least we hadn’t arrived early and stood in line for hours like all the other tourists, as Mr. Reyes scored us tickets. From the outside however, the Petronas Towers were spectacular, with their stainless steel exterior and building design modeled after an eight-pointed star which is an important symbol in the Islamic faith. We're not sure whether it looks better during the day or night.

Despite its chaotic appearance, KL is a city of street vendors and markets. We explored Masjib India’s markets and searched in vain for Jason’s favorite Indian sweets called ladoos, which are little orange flecks of fried dough sculpted into ping pong balls. The Indian food was pretty good, but of course couldn’t hold a candle to Mom’s home cooking. We also enjoyed eating seafood at Jalan Alor street market where the oysters, calamari, and fish were freshly caught. Malays like their food spicy and every table has sweet and spicy chili sauce – something that will definitely be added to our cupboard when we return to the States. Another interesting characteristic of all the restaurants, save for a few Chinese ones, is that they are Halal, meaning no pork due to the Islamic religion. Even the fast food restaurants alter their menus to serve “turkey bacon” or “beef pepperoni.” As described, the nightlife in KL was pretty good, with a wide range of environments and music. One place alternated a grunge cover band with a DJ spinning house music while another coupled reggae with R & B.

After four days in the city, we finally managed to venture out on a day trip north to the Batu Caves. Before arriving there, the “tour” (which was basically shuffling a bunch of tourists on a bus for 20x the cost of the local bus), took us to a pewter plant and a batik factory. Other than trying to get us to buy things, we couldn’t figure out how or why the three locales were combined into the same tour. The Batu Caves themselves, which house a Hindu temple, were spectacular with a cornucopia of carvings under the shadow of a gargantuan gold statue of a Hindu God. While we were visiting the caves, a Bollywood movie was being filmed that was depicting the biggest festivalof the city, Thaipusam, which typically draws more than a million worshipers. We watched Indians in colorful orange and yellow garb dance to the festive music, and Jason spotted a hippie doppelganger of Priti’s brother Pinto among the performers.

Tired of the urban environment, we flew to Sabah, Borneo, which is known for its natural splendor and captivating wildlife. Unfortunately for us, we hadn’t accounted for Hari Raya, or the celebration at the conclusion of Ramadan. Thus, when we tried to arrange activities outside of our arrival city of Kota Kinabalu (KK), we were disappointed to learn that all of the public busses were booked for the week. Thankfully, the company had arranged for a small mini-bus in a few days so we were only stuck in KK for a few days. But, the delays meant that we would not be able to see everything, so we had to cut out Sipadan, which is world-renowned for its marine wildlife. The nightlife in KK wasn’t nearly as exciting as KL, and consisted mostly of cheesy non-English karaoke bars and overpriced drinks.

Our first Borneo excursion consisted of a two-day hike up Mt. Kinabalu, the tallest mountain in SE Asia at over 4000 meters. Even from afar, it has a menacing presence, and we knew we were in for a grueling couple of days. Sure enough, the hike was a hellacious one. The trail is 8.5 km and the elevation increases 2.2 km, from 1800 meters above sea level at the trailhead to 4095 km at the summit. In other words, it is STEEP. The entire trail is uphill, offering almost no reprieve to hikers. As we slowly paced ourselves on the ascent, we were amazed at the porters who would zip right by us with loads ranging from 20-50 km (66-110 lbs.) that were harnessed on wooden contraptions to their heads/necks! Near the end of the first day, we experienced some heavy rainfall, which is another characteristic of Mt. Kinabalu. Exhausted and wet, we arrived at our lodge and were pleasantly surprised to learn that we’d gotten a heated room (we were told it would not be). (Tangent: During dinner, we spoke with an Aussie couple who told us a harrowing tale while they were traveling in India fifteen years ago. The driver of their public bus misread a narrow road and flipped their bus, killing several passengers. The driver had immediately fled the scene, knowing the other passengers would have enacted revenge for his stupidity.) After dinner, we tried to get to bed early in order to be rested by our 2 am departure to the top of the mountain the next morning.

After a fitful night’s sleep, Priti decided to stay in bed and let Jason ascend to the pinnacle with our guide. The rest of the hike was similarly brutal and at one point became so steep that the only way forward was with a secured rope. Jason was the 3^rd hiker to the peak and thus had beaten the sunrise by about 45 minutes. Although the weather at the base of the mountain was hot and humid, at the top it was freezing temperatures. When the sun finally appeared over the adjacent mountaintop it was a spectacular view. After about ten minutes, the clouds began to roll in, and five minutes later the visibility was virtually nil. As Jason descended, he felt sorry for the many other hikers he passed on the way down who had not reached the summit before the clouds rolled in. Thankfully, there was no rain on the way down, as the granite trail was already slick, as evidenced by Jason’s several wipeouts before returning to the lodge, where Priti had enjoyed a nice restful morning. We had more time on the descent to examine some of the local flora, including various orchids and “Pitcher” plants. We also enjoyed the company of our roommates Peter, a German physician living in Britain, and his wife Regina, who were traveling for four months for their honeymoon.

The grueling hike took its toll on Jason, whose left knee began throbbing, forcing him to limp back down the mountain and use our guide’s walking stick for support. By the time we finished, Priti’s legs were numb and Jason was jealous since he was feeling only pain in his.

We returned to KK for one night before departing for Sakau for a safari cruise along the Kinabatangan River. The drive took about seven hours as the roads were not in the best condition. Over the course of the three days, we went on four different boat rides to go searching for the local wildlife. They included the Proboscis monkeys, which, due to their large noses and large bellies were nicknamed the “Dutchmen” monkey by the locals. After seeing them just sitting up in the trees inert, we understood why their stomachs were so large. We also saw many Grey-tail monkeys, and for those of you watching the videos, be forewarned that they are a horny lot. We spotted lots of different birds, including Kingfishers, Rhinocerous Hornbills, Whitecrested Eagles, and many more which we don’t recall the names. Unfortunately, we just missed the Pygmy Elephants, which had been around a few weeks prior to our arrival, but had moved deeper into the forest with the arrival of the rains. During the evenings, we went on night walks and saw many more birds. Jason, feeling courageous, even let a gigantic scorpion crawl up his arm.

Priti served as a leech repelant for Jason (she must have tastier blood) and unfortunately had to endure several leech bites. To get leeches off, you can flick them when they are crawling or use vinager, salt, insect repellent, or tiger balm after one has attached to the skin. The night walks were a bit disappointing because we had so many people in our group, due to understaffing because of Hari Raya. The tradeoff was that on the 2^nd evening we were invited to attend a celebration courtesy of the owner of the nature lodge. We found their hospitality during their holiday celebration admirable, and the food was delicious. We met some cool people on the Kinabatangan River tour, including Frank, a German who’d been living in Austin and was on a circuitous route home to renew his visa. He was also the keyboardist of an indie rock band called the Glass Family. Incredibly, Frank was on the same flight to Fiji as we were, and we have basically been on the same route during our trip! We’re pretty sure we’ll see him again.

Our final stop in Malaysia was Sepilok, home to the Orangutan sanctuary. Of course we went on probably the busiest day of the year, as it was the Sunday of the long holiday weekend. Thus, the crowds were pretty big and, although the animals have free reign in the sanctuary as they are rehabilitated back into the wild, it felt more like a zoo. Also, we couldn’t believe the discrepancy in the prices they charged locals (5 ringits) versus the tourists (40 ringits).

Although it was only $12, the skewing of the pricing structure seemed a tad extreme, but apparently we'll be experiencing a lot of it in Asia. Despite these annoyances, it was a great experience to see the Orangutans in their natural habitats. The sanctuary has platforms set up and there are two daily feedings. We saw a handful of Orangutans and they were fascinating to watch, as they swung acrobatically on the ropes and enjoyed bunches of bananas. There was also another group of monkeys that mischievously grabbed the leftovers.

Wow, how the time is flying; we hope everyone is well and keep in touch!

Indonesia

2007-10-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

Picture the following scene: a crowded bustling street filled with surfers on their way to catch some killer waves, tourists from around the globe, scores of motorcycles screaming by, passing and avoiding each other by mere inches, merchants and charlatans alike trying to make a quick buck, and incense wafting through air from the practicing Hindus offering morning prayers of rice and fruit. KA-BOOM. The noise seems to surround you and the onrush of air knocks you to your feet. Every store within view no longer has any windows, as shattered glass rains down around you. You turn your head to see an unimaginable spectacle; smoke billowing out of a nearby hotel, the parked cars half-missing and in flames; charred, mangled bodies in impossible angles, and then come the screams....

Just over five years ago, on October 12, 2002, extremists exploded a bomb in a Kuta hotel, killing 189 people, including seven Americans. Unbeknownst to us when we booked it, the location of this senseless tragedy was less than 200 meters from our hotel. Today there remains a fenced-off vacant lot, adorned with a handful of remembrances from the victims’ friends and families. Across the street, a memorial lists the victims by nationality. Although we had forgotten the specifics, we remembered hearing about this bombing when it occurred. Upon realizing just how close we were to this horrific scene and not even knowing it, we became pretty emotional. Later on, we would meet someone who had a friend perish in the blast.

The reason we were in Kuta was because our flight arrived too late to get somewhere further from the airport. Nonetheless, we were thrilled when we arrived to find a king size bed, full a/c, bathroom with hot shower, and a pool to boot!

The next day was spent in recovery, as we both slept throughout the day in our spacious and oh so comfortable bed. After having spent the last week either in tents or dorms, we were completely content just catching up on some z’s. Well rested, the next day we hired a driver, who took us to a parasailing spot. It was a bit disappointing because it lasted only about 5 minutes, but it was just $10. Next we visited this temple with massive statues of a religious figure and a dragon (see Jason cowering below for a sense of scale).

Then it was off to Uluwatu, a famous temple right at the edge of these scenic cliffs, where we caught the sunset with some monkeys and watched a Kecak fire dance depicting the classic Hindu story of Rama and Sita.

Watching a group of barely clothed men swaying and chanting in rhythm, with the sun setting on the ocean, was definitely a moving experience (see video). Our final stop was Jimbaran, where we enjoyed a romantic seafood dinner on the beach while being serenaded by local musicians with “Something” and “Could You Be Loved?” in broken English.

Our next stop was Ubud, the art center of Bali, where we were accosted by Yandy, who offered us a room for 75,000 rupiahs a night, or about $8, including breakfast! We were skeptical so he took us back to the homestay and we were blown away by the décor, which were like a shrine.

We booked a couple nights and then ventured out to see the town, passing galleries galore, massage parlors, and shops selling clothes, wood carvings, and jewelry. We made our way to the monkey sanctuary, where about 300 monkeys live. We were both glad we hadn’t booked a tour that would’ve given us a set time in the forest because we ended up staying there for about three hours. For dinner, we ventured a bit off the main street to a local warung, and enjoyed a simple but great dinner of mie goreng (fried noodles, meat and veggies) for about $2 each.

The following day we went whitewater rafting on the Telaga Waja river. Unfortunately, it was the end of the dry season so the rafting was pretty tame, although we did get to go over a four meter fall and learn how to say “paddle forward” in Japanese (hungataki!) Following Yandy’s recommendation, we waited until the following evening to attend a Legong dance show, hosted by a group that has toured the world. Balinese music is unlike anything we’ve ever heard before.

To our ears, which are accustomed to melodies and western rhythms, it initially appeared as noise; however, as we grew acclimated to the structure of the music, it became much more enjoyable. There were also lots of incredible dancers with very striking features. Following the dance show, we ate some great seafood at a restaurant overlooking rice paddies.

During our 2nd week there, we got to witness a glimpse of the true Bali, compliments of a daylong bicycle and cultural tour. We started off by driving north from Ubud and having a splendid breakfast overlooking the Gunung Batur volcano, which last exploded in 1963. Forty-four years later the remnants of that explosion were still clearly visible, through the gaping crater and lava rocks covering the southern slope.

During the drive up, we learned a wealth of information about Bali from our intrepid guide Darma. Now 41 but looking at least a decade younger, Darma had left his banjar, or community, at age 14 to seek an education on the island of Java, Bali’s western neighbor. His first five years in Java were spent in servitude, working from 3:30 am until midnight, as he was too ashamed to inform his family of the extremely harsh conditions under which he was enduring. He eventually saved up enough money to fund his English education, which he pursued over the next five years, again at the absurd hours of 10 pm to 6 am (he slept on the bus). After finishing his studies, he returned home (as the youngest male, as opposed to the more common custom of the oldest male, he is responsible for the caretaking of his parents) and now lives with his extended family of 40 in a compound.

Later in the day, we would visit a compound to see firsthand how he and millions of other Balinese live. Besides his history, Darma described many of the beliefs of the Balinese, who are Hindu but of a very different sort than Indian Hinduism. At its most basic, everything revolves around one’s banjar. This is why a family will willingly accept conditions of abject poverty in order to save up the 30-50 million rupiahs ($3-5K) in order to cremate their dead; not individually but collectively every three to five years (as an individual ceremony would be cost prohibitive)! Some of the underlying beliefs for these seemingly bizarre priorities are the well-known concept of karma, whereby humans are reincarnated based on the quality of their lives. Also, they believe in the separation between sekala (visible world) and the much more important niskala (invisible world) [Jason interpreted this as the equivalent to the notions of the implicate and explicate orders: DO YOURSELF A FAVOR]. Apparently these beliefs are not always enough to keep the people in line, as the banjars can expel a member for not adhering to the rules.

This is no laughing matter as the price of re-entry is a whopping 75-100 million rupiahs ($7500-10K), about 10 years’ salary of the average Balinese. A few other interesting facts about the Balinese: they don’t have surnames, and 1st born children receive one of three names, 2nd born on of three different names, and so on until the 5th child, who gets one of the three names reserved for first-borns (yet another example of the emphasis on banjar rather than the individual); they do not celebrate birthdays (although they do have a six month shaving ceremony) and thus do not know how old they are; during adolescence they have their six canine teeth filed down to be even with the rest of their teeth because they look too savage and represent the six primary sins of lust, greed, anger, drunkenness, confusion, and jealousy.

Once we got on the bikes, Jason was a bit disappointed that it was all downhill; we literally did not peddle the entire trip and had to ride our brakes throughout most of it. However, we got to stop at some wonderful spots:

the famous Tegallalang rice terraces that have to be seen to be appreciated; a “plantation,” where we had fresh snakefruit (mix of apple, pineapple and kiwi), hot cocoa, coffee, and cigarettes (from the sweetest tobacco we’ve ever tasted); a family compound whose business was bamboo and whose “bank” was their cow, worth a cool four million rupiah ($400); and a wood carving shop, where a dozen uneducated males created scores of identical “antiques” for the local shops. Throughout the day we also saw dozens of genuinely ancient Hindu temples, many of which were in preparation for ceremonies and thus adorned with colorful vertical ribbons and ornate animals, all made from bamboo. Our final stop was to see another rice field that was near the end of its four-month harvesting process.

Having eaten rice with every meal over the past week, we did not have to be told how important rice is to the Balinese, but we were astounded to learn that the former Indonesian Prime Minister, Nurdin Halid, had actually imported rice back in the early naughties, and was currently standing trial for this and other malfeasances during his tenure. Perhaps the world would be a better place if all politicians were immediately placed on trial so that we could weed out all the scumbags and start anew with the one percent that made it through the vetting process. We would attach the addendum “save for all of the rat bastard politicians” to the principle of “guilty until proven innocent.” To work off some of his pent-up rage, Jason thankfully got to do some uphill riding while Priti and most of the others followed along in the van. Finally, we were treated to an incredible feast of roasted chicken and duck, satay, fried tofu, nasi goreng (rice, meats & veggies) and the best tempeh (sweet & spicy) we’ve ever tasted. Despite spending an average of $8 per meal for both of us, Balinese cuisine is the best we’ve tasted thus far on our trip.

Although we were having a great time in Ubud, we left the next day for Padang Bai, a quiet beach town that would be our launching point to the Gilis (islands). Jason went snorkeling in the blue lagoon and got mauled by the coral because the tide was low. That night we hung out a bar that actually had some acoustic live music, then proceeded to the “reggae” bar, which consisted of Bob Marley and then some more Nesta. Sadly, despite all the locals being reggae fans, none of them have heard of Toots and the Maytalls. We weren’t too impressed with Padang Bai so we left the next day for the island of Trawangan.

The ride over was pretty crazy because of the choppy conditions. There were several points where the boat seemed to be on the verge of tipping. Priti went inside the cabin and some of the tourists had put on lifejackets while the locals laughed at them. Meanwhile, Jason was hanging out on the side that was closest to the water, obliviously taking pictures. Upon arriving we got a decent room on the beach for $8 and headed out to see the island.

A few things are absent on the island, leading to a very unique atmosphere: 1) cars, 2) police, and 3) cat tails . The only mode of transport are horse-drawn buggies and any law enforcement is handled by the tribal chief. Also, our fears of animal cruelty were allayed upon finding out that the cats were sans tails due to inbreeding.

The following day, Jason signed up for an advanced open water diving course with Bruno, a lively Frenchman who had a doctorate in marine biology. That afternoon he completed the navigation dive but the night dive was pushed back due to the full moon. That evening, we ate dinner at a place that had private viewing booths on the beach with tvs/dvds; we initially picked the Bourne Supremacy but after seeing a person's head in the corner of the screen, we switched to 300, a solid albeit violent flick. The next morning Jason did the deep dive, which was pretty cool; then the peak performance buoyancy, where we tried to hone our skills and did back flips a la the Matrix; then the night dive, which was much scarier than he thought it would be. It didn’t help that the boat drivers stopped at the wrong place so we had to ride the sides of the boat for about 10 minutes before climbing back aboard with our gear still on. The final dive was a photography dive. Throughout the course, we saw lots of cool things like massive turtles, a Spanish dancer, an octopus, and a school of big bumpheads. While Jason was diving, Priti enjoyed a day of snorkeling on a glass bottom boat that took her to two other islands, where she saw lots of fish and turtles as well.

Our final evening in Trawangan was pleasant, starting off with a sunset hike to the top of the island with Mohammed, a local guy who had “taken care” of Priti during the snorkeling trip while I was diving. He took us on a “short cut” which essentially meant sans trail considering it took about the same amount of time. He also informed us he was a Marlboro Man (Me Always Respect Ladies But Only the Rich/Right Ones). After the hike we had a nice sushi dinner with three Dutch: Bin, a divemaster; Loren, a 2nd Basemen, and his girlfriend Desharda. Much to our relief, the return trip was far less harrowing as the seas were much calmer. We returned to Ubud so that Jason could get a massage and Priti could take a cooking class. After her class, Priti took a nap. Her unconscious was working overtime, as she realized in a dream that our plane was later that night rather than the following day. The brilliant Qatar Airlines scheduled our flight for 12:05 am, causing us to miscalculate our departure. Fortunately we were able to make our flight without too much hassle, although we were set to arrive in KL at 3 am, far from the city center. Thanks QA!

Australia - North End

2007-10-04T06:35:00.000-07:00

After Fraser, we went on a sailing cruise of the Whitsunday Islands. Unfortunately, it was pouring for the first two days so we didn't get to see much although we did manage to see a whale and get some nice snorkelling in on the Great Barrier Reef. We continued up the coast with a stopover on Magnetic Island, which had lots of wildlife and a series of WWII forts as the island was the first line of defense against the Japanese. Our final bus stop on the east coast was Cairns. Although we had planned to do more snorkelling/diving on the Reef, after spending way too much the day before on our monopolized flight to Darwin (and the Kakadu/Litchfield tours), we decided to go to the free botanical gardens and also hung out with the last remnants of the Fraser crew.

Although we were supposed to go to Kakadu first, our itineraries got switched around because many of their guides were out with the flu. Thus, we spent our first day exploring Litchfield NP. Exploring isn’t really the right word considering we were just bussed from one exhibit to the next. The first was a series of termite mounds made by a variety of species of termites. The most picturesque of the bunch were the Cathedral termites (see if you can spot Ganesh in the pic). Incredibly, the mounds are both water- and fire-proof! We also saw a bunch of Wooly Butt trees, a type of eucalyptus that are noteworthy because their bark only extends about half-way down and then vanishes. The bulk of the day was spent going to four different waterfalls, three of which we were allowed to swim. The final water locale was the most fun as there were a series of pools, some of which we could jump into off the rocks. Jason had a pretty nasty fall on the slippery rocks and for a few minutes we feared he might have broken his elbow. Thankfully our fears were not realized. On the way back, our tour guide suddenly stopped the van, ran into the bush, and caught a famous type of lizard (can’t recall the name) and induced it to flare out the sides of its neck. Our final stop of the day was to see some long-necked turtles and feed some huge Barramundis, who are hermaphroditic and transform from males to females at a certain age. Due to this unique characteristic, they are legally not allowed to be caught until they have turned into females (to ensure they’ve had a chance to lay eggs).

Early the next morning we left for Kakadu NP. The trip got off to a bit of a rocky start as one of the passengers, an Aussie named Kat, was about 20 minutes late because she’d been out partying the night before. By the end of the trip, she had developed quite the complex over her tardiness, and Priti made sure to get her contact information for future reference. The rest of us: Paul, a vegetarian Aussie male (a rarity) from the violent town of Woolongong, who’d witnessed a shooting the night before; Charlie, an 18-year-old Brit who’d seen more of the world than most people twice his age; Frank and Micheal (or Hakeem since he wore an Olajuwon jersey the whole trip), Germans in Australia for a family wedding; Felix, a German medical student doing a rotation in Darwin, and his friend Andreas; and the inimitable Cam, our Aussie tour guide and a true survivalist. Interestingly, from what we saw, the Germans in Darwin outnumbered every other group. Overall, it was a great group and everyone was more than willing to pull their own weight. Whereas most of the group, upon introducing themselves, said they wanted to have fun and see wildlife, Jason said “no offense folks, but I want to see a croc mauling.” Cam rightfully declared it should be Kat given our delay on her behalf. (Hey, Priti needs some clientele!)

The tour started with a crocodile cruise but our first of many wildlife experiences was a tragic one, as a wallaby came running along side of our vehicle, then unsuccessfully tried to jump through the gap between the truck and the trailer. It was Cam’s first killing of the year and the rest of us were not quite sure whether he was joking when he said we’d be having it for dinner. While sitting in the front seat, Jason discovered a few interesting parallels with Cam, since they had the same brand of sandals (Chaco) and MP3 players (Toshiba). The latter brought back fond but bitter memories for Jason, as his had been dead since running out of juice on Fraser Island (due to a manufacturing glitch, the normal route of recharging via the laptop does not work if the battery is completely dead). During the croc cruise, we saw about a dozen “salties” (a good example of the Aussie lexicon of taking the first syllable and adding “ies” to it, “sunnies” being another personal favorite since Jason had to buy another pair after breaking his on the Whitsundays trip). They would dangle raw meat over the water to get them to “jump”. One of the crocs was over 100 years old and he was a massive beast. They had to be careful not to dangle the meat when multiple crocs were in the vicinity as they are cannibals and might end up killing each other, like they do in Woolongong. We also got to hold this non-poisonous (a rarity) diamond python, which promptly wrapped itself around Jason’s neck (right after Priti held it, coincidence?). After the croc cruise, we had a pretty long drive, as Kakadu is gargantuan, a total area larger than Switzerland. After stopping for lunch, we set up camp at Maguk, and then hiked to this spot that had lots of pools, most of which were at least 10 meters deep. While the rest of the group kept going to more pools, we hung back and Jason, ever such the rebel and in defiance of Cam’s explicit instructions, jumped off the rocks into the pools. Jason had again brought his mask so we took turns trying to skindive to the bottom of the various pools, all at least 10 meters deep; only Charlie made it. One of the pools was almost like a cave, as we accessed it by swimming down a couple meters underneath one of the rocks.

That night, all of us learned firsthand that Cam had previously been employed as a chef. He cooked us some buffalo sausages and we both got to try some kangaroo for the first time. It’s apparently one of the healthiest red meats and it tasted somewhat like beef but lighter. Cam shared some of his memorable experiences as a tour guide and also told us how Kakadu was completely different during the wet season (Nov-Mar), as much of the park becomes completely submerged due to interminable rains, thereby giving crocodiles much greater range throughout the park. After dinner, we had a good time discussing, among other things, the Futbol history between Germany and Italy (who defeated Germany yet again in the 2006 World Cup semis, viva Italia!), and the best scenes from The Simpsons movie (the swap between the faithful and the bar patrons), while Andreas kept count of everyone’s beer consumption. We managed not to drink all of it the first night as we were in for an early morning and long day.

Groggily, we awoke at the crack of dawn to break camp and hit the most famous spots in Kakadu. First was Twin Falls, which, due to a German tourist being eaten by a croc a few years ago, was off limits to swimmers and thus only accessible by a five-minute boat ride (that cost $12.50). As nice as the Twin Falls were, it was pretty disappointing that we weren’t able to swim, particularly since we’d just hiked for an hour in 40 (104 C) degrees coupled with extreme humidity. At some point during the day, we crossed the yellow river, where the water was so deep that the engine (that had a snorkel) was submerged and the water began seeping in through the back of the van. After another hour or so on a road that reminded us both of Fraser (i.e., BUMPY), we arrived at Jim Jim Falls. Like many of the names in Kakadu, it was a malapropism due to the White Man’s inability or unwillingness to understand the Aboriginal language (I suppose with names like Kunbarllanjnja and Malabanjbanjdju, it’s somewhat understandable). Unfortunately, Jim Jim Falls were anything but, as only a trickle was left after nearly a full dry season. Nonetheless, the 300 meter cliff face was a marvel to behold and at least we got to swim. The waters directly beneath the “Falls” were freezing so we opted to hang out in the warmer pools (but not the luke warm one, which Cam revealed a bit too much of himself when he exclaimed “it’s like swimming in piss”). After playing Classic Catch for awhile, by diving into the water off this tiny sand island, Cam orchestrated a game akin to dodgeball, where those in the water took turns flinging a small football at those in the sand. Sadly for Cam, or more appropriately his offspring, the game ended with him taking a ball from Jason directly in the groin. Jason couldn’t stop laughing and fortunately Cam wasn’t seriously injured and was a good sport.

That evening, after another scrumptious meal of lamb chops, teriyaki vegetables, and baked potatoes, Cam brought out his didgeridoo and gave us all a brief lesson in playing. We all gave decent efforts, but, sans circular breathing, which takes months to learn, the playing comes in spurts. After bringing over a few women from the neighboring camp, Cam proceeded to lead us on a nighttime nature hike. With about a dozen in tow, there was virtually no chance of spotting anything noteworthy, so we ended up laying down in a field and gazing at the stars while engaging in some random conversations, such as the future of humanity and the nature of the space/time continuum. What’s cool about stargazing in Australia is that the stars are completely different and so is the Milky Way itself, which is much splotchier in appearance relative to the mostly uniform band of haze we see in the northern hemisphere.

Another early morning for the crew on our final day in Kakadu brought us to a series of rock art paintings. Incredibly, carbon dating has revealed that one of the Aboriginal tribes had been creating paintings for 57,000 years, making them the oldest civilization on earth. Tragically, their tribe died out in 1969, as the youngest members left the tribe to pursue a western lifestyle. Cam expertly relayed many stories behind the paintings, including the formation of crocodiles, the Aboriginal version of the boogeyman, and the spirits that were believed to have painted themselves. Doubt them at your own risk. Throughout the final day, everyone had their expectations met as we saw tons of wildlife. In the morning we saw a couple of salties in the wild, although our prompting for them to fight went unheeded. Next we saw a pack of wild horses (cue Mick) consisting of one stallion, four(!) mares, and two youngsters. At one of the rock art sites, we saw some wallaroos, which are similar to wallabies. Other wildlife we spotted included buffaloes, cockatoos, egrits, flying black kites, and a white-chested sea eagle. The ultimate wildlife experience occurred on our way out of the park, as Cam antagonized a freshie with his didgeridoo into charging our 4x4. Jason got out and took pictures and managed not to get mauled in the process (imagine the irony). As we drove back into Darwin, the sun was visible through the trees, a fiery red ball that reminded us of a famous Magritte painting in the Chicago Art Institute.

Our final day in Australia was pretty uneventful, although we had a few instances of good luck, as a used book store owner paid us cash for our guidebook and the hostel receptionist gave us free shuttle passes after being entertained by the fact that we had saved exactly enough cash (or so we thought) for the tickets. And, Jason finally found an electronics store that could recharge his Gigabeat. Although we had enjoyed our trip thus far, we both realized that the true adventure was about to begin.

Reflecting on our time in Australia, there are a few things that stand out for those of you who are planning to go there. First, it’s BIG (like the mighty Banyan tree). We were there for a month and only traveled up the east coast and Darwin, and we felt rushed almost the entire time. It’s deceptively large because it’s an island and there’s nothing but a big rock in the middle, but make no mistake. It didn’t help that we traversed the entire coast via Greyhound, a la Edlavi circa 1999. Second, they like to drink. They really, really, really like to drink. And we'll leave it at that. Third, they are the southern hemisphere’s America, brash, arrogant and not too concerned with what the rest of the world thinks of them. Finally, it’s very expensive. Five years ago, the Aussie dollar was worth $.55; today it’s worth $.83, so everything has increased in price by about 50% for Americans in that time frame. The activities we engaged in were certainly fun but were very expensive. It’s a good thing we got Australia out of the way first because otherwise we would’ve probably had to miss out on some of them due to insufficient funds.

The Australia pics are finally up, sorry for the delay. Also, for those of you that have been dying to comment but didn't want to register, the settings have been changed to allow readers to post anonymously. Hint hint. And for those of you keeping track, not only the Cubs but the Diamondbacks also made the playoffs. Go Cubbies!

Australia - Fraser Island

2007-09-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

The next stop was Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, for a self-guided 4x4 three day tour. Thankfully, our group was both diverse and incredibly cool. Dave Murphy (Murph) an Irish laddy who’s on his own world tour and had just spent three months picking fruit in Bundaberg; Murph was traveling with Tom, a British zoologist who’s been traveling for five years and reckons he’ll be doing it for five more and Jordan, a 19-year-old Canadian who reminded everyone of a cartoon character but no one could say for sure exactly which one; Sandra, a German who’s living in Brisbane with her boyfriend Sam, a native Aussie and big fan of Spiderbait; the lovely Italians Alessandra and Marina, who, through a mistranslation of the zen notion of keeping one's mind clear, had the word thoughtless tatooed on her forearm; and Vince from Paris, a mechanical engineer and huge fan of Shakti and Magma.

Over the course of the three days, a rivalry developed with the other group that left from the same tour outfit: Team B. It began the night before, when Sandra was awoken in her hostel room by three German women and the two Italians. The Italians were being considerate but the Germans were very rude and woke her up on multiple occasions throughout the night. At 3 am, after Sandra finally asked them to keep it down, they became nasty and even started talking about her in German, assuming incorrectly that she would not understand what was being said about her. Thus, she was quite relieved to learn that they were not in the same group.

The next morning, after packing all of our gear, we were off to the island. Since Tom and Jordan had been to Fraser before, it was like having our own tour guide, a huge bonus considering the ridiculous prices of the guided tours. Our first stop was the stunning Lake Birrabeen, with a white sand beach and turquoise water that we had all to ourselves. After frolicking around for awhile, we headed to Lake Wabby, an emerald green lake which was surrounded by these massive sand dunes. Tom and Jason climbed the steep dune and while Tom did somersaults down the dune into the lake, Jason, fearful of breaking his neck, rolled down sideways. After Lake Wabby, we returned to see a dingo, a type of wild dog, hanging around our vehicle. Thankfully it was alone so we didn’t have to worry about it becoming aggressive, as they do when in packs. Then we made our way to our first camp site. The evening was absolutely wonderful and we enjoyed an incredible moonrise while listening to good tunes and retelling our crazy adventures. All in all a great day. Jason also got to do a bit of driving and had good fun watching in the rearview mirror as the rest of the group got bounced during each bump.

The following morning we headed further up the coast past a shipwreck on the beach. The tide was in so the waves came splashing up through it. Next was Indian Head, which is a series of cliffs overlooking some more beautiful coastline. Supposedly sharks can be seen down below but none of us saw any. We weren’t supposed to take the 4x4 all the way to it but we did anyways since our “tourguides” had done it before. Upon spotting Team B’s 4x4 parked far away, we devilishly unlocked their front wheels, thereby relegating their vehicle to two-wheel drive. And then the fun began. We were hoping we’d get to see them digging themselves out as we drove by but no such luck. We proceeded to the Champagne Pools, which were a set of rocks that gave some protection from the surf and more importantly the sharks, as this was the only area of the ocean we were allowed to go into. Basically, we hung on for dear life to these spongy rocks as massive waves crashed into them, and then over them and us like the bubbly.

We headed off to another lake, where we ran once again into Team B. We saw that they had locked their wheels, but we unlocked them again just for good measure. We also unlocked ours to see if they would be dumb enough to change ours without looking at the settings. When we ran into them at the lake, our wry grins gave us away so they surmised that we were the culprits. We had a good laugh but they didn’t seem too amused. They made a joke about leaving our stuff on the beach and then left almost immediately. When we returned to our vehicle, we decided to eat since we weren’t going to make our campsite before dark (another no-no was driving after sunset…oops). After getting our stuff out, we realized that some of our food was missing. And, worse yet, some of our alcohol had been nicked as well. Those bastards!!! It’s one thing to have a laugh but their response was to engage in outright theft?! Murph was frantic and was ready to track them down but we weren’t absolutely sure the stuff was missing or buried. Several in the group had purchased alcohol that day at “island” prices ($4/can). They also took our last loaf of bread so we’d have to purchase more the next day. On the way to our campsite (in the dark), Tom took us down a crazy path and since we were in the far back we got bounced around like jumping beans. He also managed to get stuck and so we had to dig ourselves out. It took about 15 minutes but we had a good laugh…something Team B apparently was incapable of. During the nighttime festivities, Murph and Jason set to plotting Team A’s revenge. We settled on tracking down their families and murdering their fathers, since Australia’s Father’s Day was just around the corner. Teach ‘em a lesson they’d never forget! We pitched it to the group but they opted for something a tad less extreme. Reluctantly, Murph and Jason conceded. Shortly thereafter we realized our hammer was missing. One annoying thing about the Fraser tour companies is that they charge ridiculous prices for any missing equipment; thus it was decided we would liberate Team B's $15 hammer.

On the way back down, we stopped once again at the shipwreck because Jason had the idea to get everyone to pose like the Dali composition of naked women in the form of a skull. As the pictures will attest, the effect clearly isn’t the same when the women are clothed! (The tour company gave us a camera and requested we take creative shots and the best one would get a prize. Sadly we had dropped ours in the water the first day so it was likely a futile effort regardless.) Our final destination was Lake McKenzie, which is supposedly the most beautiful but I thought it was basically the same as Birrabeen but with bigger crowds. After providing action shots for some photographer while playing keep the ball out of the water (akin to hacky sack), we decided to take another crack at the photo contest by following Tom’s suggestion to make it appear as if we were midgets buried in the sand. Then we completely buried Sam, laughing the entire time. Soon after we departed, we realized we’d left our $25 shovel behind…doh! Unfortunately, we could not just turnaround so we had to take a ½ hour detour to retrieve it, only to find it stuck under another 4x4’s rear wheel! After a good team effort of rocking the vehicle, we managed to retrieve it. However, this delay meant that we would be hard-pressed to see the final sight on our itinerary, an invisible creek so named because from the vantage point the water was so clear as to appear non-existent. Vince did his best to make sure we made up the time, much to the shagrin of Sam and Sandra, who are currently seeing chiropractors to get themselves realigned (haha). We decided to skip the creek but ended up arriving with plenty of time to spare (thanks to our fearless Frenchman).

The return ferry was somewhat sad since we’d had such a blast on the island. Back at the hostel, we unloaded the vans and started putting our equipment in order. We turned in all of our equipment (sans hammer) and discussed how to get Team B to reimburse us for our stolen provisions because it didn’t appear likely we’d be able to get their hammer. However, while Team B was turning in other equipment, Jason managed to swoop in and nab their hammer while their entire group was fewer than five meters away. Great Scot! After surreptitiously disclosing his feat to the team, it was time for Sandra to have her revenge on the Germans. She accosted them and said, in German, “so are you going to repay us for the things you stole.” Oh, snap! This just goes to show that you should never hurl insults at people in another language until you are sure they don’t speak it. It turns out the Germans were behind the entire heist plan but yet were the most adamantly opposed to taking responsibility for their actions. Ultimately, after following through on our promise to inform the tour company if they remained obstinate in their refusal to make good, they agreed to buy us a round of drinks at the pub. At about the same time, the tour company informed them that their hammer was missing. Watching them get into a tizzy and then scrounging up the $15 was priceless, and I’m still not sure how we managed to contain our emotions in our moment of triumph. Sex on the Beach, purchased on their tab, never tasted so good and we can only hope that one of us run into one of them before we leave Australia so we can let them know what happened to their hammer.

Postscript: Tom was happy to report that he did in fact run into some of Team B so we can rest assured that they all found out about their hammer. WOOOHOOOOO!!!!

Australia (part 1)

2007-09-08T17:58:00.000-07:00

Hi folks,

Before we share our Aussie experience, we must first take a few moments to reflect on the glory of our beloved laptop. So here goes:

Ode On a Second-hand Laptop

Oh glorious lappy, so transportable and light
Your black exterior darker than night.
Versatility your virtue, reliability your strength
A whopping eight gig hard drive, yet just twelve inches in length.

We thank you, thank you, for all that you do
Just one month into our trip, we feared we'd lost you
But lo and behold, our fears were unfounded.
And now our appreciation for you has compounded.

So carry on, thou little black box of wonder
And never let us be torn asunder.
Without your processing power, we'd be up against a wall.
And remember, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty"---that is all

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming. The adventure in the Land Down Under started in Melbourne, where we were greeted with the familiar faces of friends, Rebecca Hill and her family, Simon, Romany, and Inez. Melbourne is a unique, cosmopolitan city that looks much larger on the map than it really is. We explored much of it by foot, including the massive Victoria Market, where vendors were selling everything from fresh foods to fake watches. Jason ended up buying this hokey black leather belt with Australian imprints.

Later that day, we went to a footy (i.e., Australian Football) match. The AFL match was a lot of fun, though the crowd was much tamer than we were expecting. Perhaps it was because the beer they served (Victoria Bitter) was dreadful. AF is sort of like hockey on grass with bits of rugby, soccer, and even basketball thrown in. And of course reckless abandon amongst the padless players. The stadium was nearly filled to capacity because it was the 1st place team in town, the Geelong Cats vs. the North Melbourne Kangaroos (actually both are based in the Melbourne vicinity). The Cats were clearly the better team and won the match 118-91, although at one point the Roos had closed to within two points. To let you know how exciting of a match it was, Priti actually paid attention to the entire game rather than peoplewatch (as she does at every baseball game Jason has dragged her to). The frontrunner for the AFL MVP scored five goals, yet the fans didn’t appear too appreciative; perhaps he’s Australia’s A-Rod.

Our Ausssie tour continued with a drive to Philip Island, a wildlife haven. We went to the Koala Sanctuary where upon treetop boardwalks we found ourselves face to face with a mother koala and her joey (baby). Although koalas sleep for 16-20 hours per day, we were lucky enough to see (and capture on video) the joey come out of her mother's pouch and cling to her belly as she climbed down one tree, took a sniff of some koala droppings, and then proceeded to climb another tree. This amazing experience was followed by sightings of kangaroos in the woods or "scrubs" as the Aussies call them. Hippity-hop they went, stopping occasionally to stare at us. Moving along to another area of Philip Island, we sat along a boardwalk, watched the sunset over hills and the ocean, and then saw hundreds of Little Penguins (creativity isn't one of the Aussies' strengths), swim out of the ocean onto the beach and waddle to their nests. They emerged out of the ocean in groups of six to ten, and some of the groups kept going back in to the water, and it took them multiple attempts to muster enough courage to waddle all the way up the beach to their nests. The set up allowed us to get within arms reach of the penguins. They made a squeaky, gurgling sound as each individual stood guard of its nest. Unfortunately, we couldn't take any pics because this area was protected and the flashes would scare them.

Melbourne reminded us of Chicago, with its second city complex and concerted efforts at self-promotion, lots of quality restaurants, quality museums, and obsessiveness over professional sports. Priti loved it. At night, we ventured to the trendy St. Kilda neighborhood to see some good old fashioned rock n' roll.

After four days there, we said goodbye to our hosts and went to Sydney where we stayed in the King's Cross neighborhood, renowned for its colorful clientele. Unfortuately, the rain followed us from NZ, but we still ventured out to explore the city. At the wharf, we listened to an Aboriginal with a painted face and body play the Didgeridoo on the wharf and we also witnessed a woman contort her body into a small plexiglass box. She literally could have kissed her own arse. We took the ferry to Manly beach and had good sunset views of the Opera House and the Sydney Bridge. The following day we finally splurged at Sushi Rio, taking whichever dishes we wanted from the conveyor belt as they passed by (sushi train). Following lunch, we went to the Chinese Garden, an oasis of tranquility within the mania that is Sydney. Interestingly, given our Melbourne/Chicago perceptions, Sydney reminded us of NYC - lots of beautiful, stylishly dressed people, cuisine from all over the world, and a night life that goes until the wee hours of the mornin'.

The road north led next to Byron Bay, which was recommended by many fellow travelers. Sadly, the weather once again was not very good so we couldn't do that much in Byron itself. One of the highlights was a day trip to Nimbin, Australia’s version of Amsterdam. The rest of the time in Byron was spent on the beach. We also came across this massive tree that was filled with hundreds of parrots, who must have been in mating season because they were all paired up and singing to the high heavens. Our next stop was Noosa, although since it had been completely under water from flooding the week before, our hostel room smelled like mildew. Not a fun experience sleeping that night but good things were just around the corner...

Australia is so massive that it's been a challenge to find time to update the blog, but there will be more updates coming very soon along with pics. Take care everyone!

2007-08-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

Hey folks,

The South Island of NZ was amazing. First, the ferry ride itself was pretty magnificent as we coasted by dozens of inlets before arriving in Picton. The plan was to carry on to Abel Tasman NP but we didn’t really feel like driving so we just booked a room in Picton. The next day was beautiful and sunny so we hiked the Queen Charlotte Track, which had some spectacular views. Incredibly, we ended up hiking about 14 miles (~24 km). Our feet were killing us by the time we returned, but uckily we got to soak in the hot tub later that evening. The previous evening Jason chatted with an older male kiwi who’d been all around and had a crazy tale about Cairo, Egypt; after arriving in the middle of the evening, he (never got his name) and his wife got harassed by a cabbie who tried to scam them by taking them to a shady hotel. Having spotted something they recognized on the way, they had the driver drop them off at a different place, the entrance of which was down a dark alley. Upon arriving at the front door, they discovered it was locked. As they walked back, a “police officer” accosted them and demanded cigarettes or money. While trying to talk their way out of a confrontation, the man grabbed his wife’s breast. She screamed and then he shoved the scumbag and they fled down the alley, fully expecting to be shot in the back! That’s basically the end but it could easily have been much worse. Hopefully our time in Cairo isn't quite so harrowing.

Back to the trip, the next day we took a short jaunt to Renwick, which is in the heart of the Marlborough wine region. We "hired" (=rented) bikes for the day and went to about eight wineries. The region is apparently famous for their Sauvignon Blancs and most of the wines we tasted were whites and generally justified the high praise they’ve been receiving in recent years. We weren't even fans of Sauvignon Blancs but we are now. It was a perfect day for biking and the scenery was beautiful. Also, the staff didn’t pressure us to purchase anything, which was nice considering almost all of the tastings were free. Our favorite place was called The Villa, but sadly they don’t export any of their wines to the US. We joined up with a couple Brits, Ben and Graham, who were doing geological research in Kaikoura. Interestingly, during the course of our discussion, the absurdity of the official story of 9/11 came up. Apparently the British public is very skeptical and most are convinced that there was a cover up of some sort. If only the American public were that well-informed.

Unfortunatley, our plans were disrupted again by inclement weather. I think I forgot to mention but we had planned to visit Tongariro NP (home of Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings) but it was closed. This time, we were going to take a helicopter ride up to Fox glacier to see ice caves and due some ice hiking. The weather was only getting worse so rather than try to wait it out we just left for Queenstown. What should have been a scenic drive down the west coast was anything but as it was pouring rain the entire drive and stuck around the first two days we were in Queenstown. There was a small respite when we stopped in Wanaka, another ski town. We stopped at the wacky world of puzzles that housed many illusion exhibits along with a giant maze.

Our first night in Queenstown we again hung out with the Nebraskans. We went and saw some Reggae music, which is the big thing there, so Jason was in his element. The following day, while it poured, we were finally able to find an internet café that had a good connection and were able to download all of our pictures. This was a huge relief as we were beginning to fear that we would never have sufficient time to download them. The weather cleared the following day so we took an insanely steep gondola ride and at the top rode these go-cart like contraptions called luges. They were propelled by gravity, meaning you could pick up some serious speed. There were many hair-pin curves so they were also designed not to flip over; rather, brake pads slowed them down if the rider lost control.

The locals were saying the weekend rain/snow had resulted in the best conditions of the entire season so we figured it would be fun to give it a go. What a great decision as the snowboarding was awesome! We went to the Remarkables and despite some annoyances getting there, including getting our windshield chipped and realizing the snow tires provided by the rental agency were too small, we had a blast. In the morning we joined one of their beginner classes but there were too many people and it seemed a big waste of time. So, in the afternoon, Jason upgraded to get a lift pass. In just 2 ½ hours he had about 10 runs and was the last person off the mountain, mostly because he spent most of the time on his bum. We have a feeling we’ll be taking many more trips to Flag when we return to Arizona.

The next day we were set to leave Queenstown to head down to Milford Sound, one of the iconic tourist destinations of NZ. Before we left, we took a jet boat ride around one of the nearby lakes. The jet boat ride itself was pretty cool, we did a bunch of 360s and he drove so close to the shoreline that we're still not sure how we didn't wreck. We wish we’d have brought our camera because the reflection of the mountains off of the lake were stunning. It was also really cool to see two rivers meeting, as we could actually see where they met due to differences in the color of the waters. On of the rivers was just six inches deep. Jason had planned to go bungy jumping at Nevis, a whopping 134 meters. However, he was informed the night before that there is actually a larger bungy in South Africa; supposedly it’s 200 M! Considering bungying is all about facing his fears (i.e., ego), he decided to hold out for the biggest in the world. Apparently, NZ is working to reclaim the title of the highest bungy jump but have yet to begin building it.

We drove to Te Anu and stayed in an actual motel. It was a big relief considering for the past four days we’d been forced to leave our building just to use the bathroom. Milford Sound itself was pretty spectacular; we took 130 pictures in one day! (Many are redundant so our apologies). There was this one stopoff on the way called Mirror Pond which was the setting for about 15 of them. Because we hold the camera differently to get taller shots, Priti and I were taking mirror image shots of a mirror image…far out! Ironically, the wettest spot in NZ had not a cloud in the sky which allowed for some great pics but meant we didn't get to see the hundreds of waterfalls it is known for. Because the boat we were supposed to take was unavailable, they gave us free passes to the underwater exhibit, which was nice considering we were going to do it anyway. Thus, we were able to get underwater pictures without doing a photography dive. The divers had displayed this rope that was from 30 M deep and it had all these funky coral on it, very cool.

Our drive to Christchurh was looooong. We tried to break it up by stopping in Dunedin to see penguins but that was a whole side trip and so we just passed through. Our hostel was pretty crappy but it was centrally located so we decided to have a night on the town. The following morning, we groggily attempted to go swimming with Dolphins in Akaroa but once again the NZ weather gods were having none of it. Three meter high waves meant the boats weren't going out that day. Since we’d saved some money by losing out on the swim, we decided to splurge on dinner at Dux de Lux, which was right across the street from our hostel. Priti ordered a tasty dish of rata (some white fish), and Jason's salmon dish was divine. It was so tender it nearly fell through his fork (a la sting ray). We went to an Irish pub and drank some Guiness and danced some jigs before returning home on our last night in NZ.