Around the World - Dai and Troy

2007-04-08T15:51:00.000+07:00

It's been about 6 weeks into our Kiwi initiation. Both of us have started our jobs, Troy at Opus and me at Vodafone. We've fully furnished our apartment; the tiny box in the city it is. We've weathered our first Kiwi storm, complete with sideways-blowing rain. We've learned what muppet, sweet as, flash, gutted, and posey mean; no, it's not how you suspect. We've hosted our first couchsurfers: Suvi and Heikki from Finland, who helped us to discover Devonport and how to fit 4 people in 40 sq ft. And we've taken our first weekend trip out of Auckland, 4 hours drive north, to the beautiful Bay of Islands. We went caving and gazed at glow worms, we climbed cliffs to glimpse a view of Waipu Cove, we saw Whangarei Falls!

It's home!! Well...almost.

We miss all of you guys dearly and hope you've fattened up on chocolate and candy. Sorry we couldn't be together, but we will see each other soon enough; we promise!

Happy Easter :D

XOXOXOXOX

Check out some new pics at http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/easter-2007-at-bay-/

2007-03-11T05:07:00.000+07:00

On February 10th, less than 1 week after I posted the last blog, we bid farewell to Bangkok (the city where we lost gallons of sweat), on a red-eye Tiger Airlines flight through Singapore to Darwin, Australia. Cursory and quick plannng left us with an inaccurate idea of our travel itinerary. ( I am happy to confide this, for a change, was Troy's fault)

From our experience with international flights, I should have known $130 per person for the Thailand to Oz flight would not buy reasonable departure, layover and arrival times. Turns out, after leaving Bangkok at 9pm, and arriving after midnight, we would spend 17 hours roaming the Singapore airport terminals before leaving.

Awesome!

There are substantial differences between the main and budget terminals of the Singapore airport; differences which become deeply contrasted when you're exhausted, dirty, jet-lagged, homeless, and carting nearly 200 lbs of poorly-packed baggage. **Apparently $3 dollar duffle bags bought at Thai flea markets aren't superior quality. Just days after purchase we needed to utilize aesthetically-pleasing duct tape to restrain the bras, underwear and knock-off perfume from the tears**

The Singapore budget terminal is a large white box housing a suspect coffee stand, and a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs and a staff of irritated employees who're pissed they've been bastardized to the ghetto. The glittering main concourse has massage chairs, comfortable beds, olympic-sized swimming pool, free sex and drugs. Suctioned, face to glass, we witnessed the luxury main terminal passengers enjoyed, while we "budget travelers" rotted alive on cold tile beaten with seizure-inducing repitition of Celine Dion's "My heart will go on". ( Asians have a disturbing affinity for this song)

Much, earlier ( well-rested and clean), we discussed sleeping in the airport, because 17 hours is too short to arrive at 2:00am and pay for a hotel, just to rush back to the airport. At least, that's what we thought. Never having experienced sleeping in an airport, we both surmised it the best and cheapest choice.

After collecting a household from the baggage carousel and punching myself in the face, I got a cart and we began the trek to the shuttle, which would take us from budget to main terminal. The plan was to utilize the main terminal and return to budget in time to reach our flight. Right now, it was 2am, and apart from the arctic blast of the zealous air-conditioning, the midi-ish Muzak permeating from plastic bushes, and one suspicious scuffling janitor ( who seemed to be gathering surveillance on us) the terminal was off limits and dead.

Much to our dismay, we discovered the inside main terminal is blocked to those who do not have tickets departing there. After a few minutes of calmly discussing the kink in our plans ( screeching, screaming, flailing, collapsing) we surveyed the available three floors of inhospitable granite and tile to retire for the night. Could we really do this? McDonalds, Starbucks and Swensens were closed, security-filmed and although they had comfortable looking booths, they were no-gos. Singapore isn't known for being lenient to any sort of law-breaking, definitely not in its prized main airport terminal. Not wanting to be caned, or jailed for life for sleeping on a fast food bench, we found a room of glass, tile and stone perched above a runway, called a take-off viewing room. It stored a handful of other budget-terminal-damned travelers. We rolled out our sleeping bags, silk sleep sheets and tried to ignore the echoes of snores, tinny-blast of soft rock, garbage being emptied and tile being buffed. A few times we heard teenagers running and screaming through the concourse; the airport terminal being a place of choice for Singaporean youth.

Entirely delerious and stinky, we arose again at 5am, having not slept, showered or changed, deciding to spend the rest of our 14 hours wandering the terminal. We hung out in Starbucks, and then moved to some diner, in which, we proceeded to pass out. I don't think we left the lingering Singaporean families with a good impression; we woke to children being nervously shooed away from our table. Five hours later we wiped our crusted drool, rode the sky train between terminals a dozen times, and then loitered by the free internet terminals, kicking off a bunch of school children playing video games.

By the time 8pm rolled around, and we'd checked into our Darwin flight, and dropped our fleet of luggage, we were so tired we'd slept through take-off and landing; a luxury in which I never indulge, as I am usually busy ( obsessed) mentally re-enacting a mid-air explosion.

We arrived to Darwin International just after 2:30am, to a very dutiful customs department, who seemed to delight in reporting "a situation" at counter 4; Troy's opened gummy worms apparently flagrant threats to the Aussie national security. Resigned to leave the sour worms with them (although I did eat one right there to show them who's boss) we fuddled through the rest of their process, trying to balance our circus of luggage and get to our shuttle.

After short visits in Darwin, Surfer's Paradise and Byron Bay, on February 20th, we stepped off the Virgin Blue flight in our first New Zealand city: Auckland. Arriving on a work visa until February of next year, we shuffled through customs and immigration with nothing more than a friendly, tired nod from an official, who stamped our work visas with no questioning whatsoever. Not knowing how strict it would be, we printed out bank statements, proof of medical insurance, proof of visa, itinerary after New Zealand. Lonely planet posters claimed it could be very easy or very hard, depending on who was working immigration at the time. Luckily, the staff were as disinterested and exhausted as we were, and not only were we quickly waved through, but they asked us for nothing.

We were lucky to meet Tracey, a lovely Aussie girl sat next to us on our flight, who offered to take us ( with her Kiwi boyfriend) from the airport to downtown. During the 30 minute drive, they gave us a brief summary of the temperate, sometimes too rainy weather, the people, rugby, odd Kiwi accents, volcanoes in the area, and weird sports like zorbing and air carting. It was close to 3am, we were exhausted, we were on our way to our new home; except we didn't have a bed, dresser, or even an apartment to return to. For four sleepless, irritated nights, we endured a strange and smelly corporation of mildewed drunk people and nests of bed bugs called Fat Camel Hostel. It is the very LAST hostel we will stay in.

Over the past 3 weeks, Troy and I have secured an awesome downtown apartment, home furnishings, and jobs, to boot :0) We're on our way to becoming legitimate residents, buying property ( it's appreciated 80% in the last few years, still going strong) and getting back into routine! Did I say how much I love and miss working out??

Now we're ready for you guys: Mom, Dad, Sasch, Tony, Maki, Lucas, Debbie

XOXOXOX

2007-02-05T15:18:00.000+07:00

(another trek blog http://daijalovestroy.blogspot.com/2006/10/day-five-continued-nanoseconds-before.html )

I know I’ve been seriously lax in my blogging. Thank you again for bearing with me, I’m sorry. But I swear there’s good reason. This has been a long, difficult month for both Troy and I; trials and tribulations, the worst we've ever endured. The glory of world travel has recently lost it’s seductive shimmer with these recent developments: We extinguished the supply of bananas ( no more morning, mid-day and evening smoothies) on the remote island paradise of Ko Kham and Troy had a crawfish bite his toe while snorkeling. Ok, no eye-rolling in the back there. Here’s what really happened. I’m trusting you with all the gory details…and that’s why you’re reading, right?

Dirty Laundry:

I’m irresponsible. You should also know I’ve never been known for my prudent choices. That’s probably because they’re not prudent, but rather, as J.D. Salinger says “conspicuously retarded”. My life has been an endless span of annoyingly unpaid parking tickets (which, evidently, do not sort themselves out?!), bounced checks, (like the cluster of 5 dollar ones written to Wok-n-roll Chinese restaurant in Tallahassee), non-sufficient funds, tardiness, surprised confusion, fender benders (induced by the decision to apply mascara rather than fretting over details of a moving vehicle) and my freshman year at FSU I inadvertently set the elevator afire by shoving a pair of hot pants in the shaft ( to keep it open while I moved my stuff, of course). I must plead your silence in that last confession, as I think they are still trying to figure out the mastermind who attempted to burn down the girls’ dorm. Anyway, in addition to the cataclysmic absent mindedness decorating my decision-making process, I also consciously make rash, poor decisions. I guess it’s partly because my choices are heavily pressured by expectations of ego and society, manifesting unpalatably, regrettably and ill-timed, like a schedule of unstoppable flatulence momentarily restrained at a dinner party.

My worst whoppers are often engendered with confident excitement, proclamations from apparently infallible research and a complete sodomization of common sense ( with the righteous feeling of shrewdly embracing it); closely resembling a certain government’s diplomatic" foreign policy. As I am decidedly not a proponent of the eloquent "this-ain't-my-first-Rodeo" Bush, or huge embarrassing failures, I’m not particularly proud of this.

Maybe I should have spent more time with my guidance counselor or a shrink?

Thankfully, I've been cosmically spared from the most dire consequences of my botched life choices. License to be dumb another day.

Anyhow,

I’ve also got this detrimental maniacal desire to move quickly, even (especially) when I don’t know where the hell I am headed; as if I could temporarily be a fugitive from Time. Impatience of epic and annoying ( ask Troy) proportions. But, why? Maybe just a desperate urge to fight off impotence, old age and interminable what-iffing in my life. Cruelly, this has doomed me to a life of bumbling confusion, emotion and constant change until I’ve made some mark on the world or find what I’m so fervently looking for.

But, will I ever?? Does anyone ever?

Donkey-punched by the all-mighty dollar, I repeatedly invest in what I don’t want to do, with precious little time truly thinking through, pondering the weighty: How shall I, how can I, how do I spend my life? I simply can’t bear waking up at 65 saying, “what have I done?!” Faint pangs of intuition endorsing the chase of pipe-dreams, head-slapping regressions into stupidity and pathetic monetary enslavement have governed the sobering sling-shot between boozed and bong-watered collegiate retard to almost-30, numbingly “responsible” payer of taxes, dutiful consumer, depositor to 401K, and consensual soul-selling corporate cog.

But can I eek away my life like this? Bored, political ass-kissing during the weekdays to gorge on fleetingly-pleasing plastic splurges on weekends? The Cambodian woman digging ditches all day would agree there are worse things. After all, it seems that capitalism and consumerism have hypnotized the world. But why, then, in my color-coordinated, brand-named comfort, am I so unsatisfied? Is having the ability to earn a living blissfully a spoiled notion of the pampered? Does anyone ever love their work? Or, perhaps, this is my mid-life crises come 20 years too early…

I had achieved the 3 C’s just as my mother fastidiously instilled: I had the career, the car and a sizeable down payment for the condo, but, alas, I had not a shred of contentment; which, at the heed of my annoyingly persistent soul, is the most vital, implicit “c” of all. (An aside**This should explain my blowing about 25k to aimlessly traipse far corners of the planet in a search for said “c”; the announcement of which, by the way, did not elicit congratulatory smiles all round, though my karma was boosted patiently deflecting inquisitions of my corporate career, wedding dresses, the apparent ticking of my biological clock and likelihood of future financial security. (Dreaming, maverick, aging, black-sheep: I commend your honesty, trueness to self. Don’t ever concede your individuality, sincerity, morality, grease up and grab those ankles, well, unless of course, it's for money. And lots of it -see Margomel? You did teach us something!**)

I pursued stark directions, no matter their difficulty, randomly, intensely, and with short-lived alacrity, my flighty passion handicapped with a fear of failure and defensive poor follow-through. It won’t hurt as much, if I didn’t really try. Born were my roaring-twenties of constant change; studying for and taking the LSAT ( before I considered the hours and dry reading), recording a professional CD with a band ( which I subsequently abandoned), applying to international MBA programs (then realizing I don’t like corporations), investing 5 steadfast years in networking ( and being completely disenchanted), attempting to move to Hawaii (discovering vacation is separate from living). So, as you can see, I’ve quite the hap-hazard resume; not the stuff of dreams for an ambitious 27-year-old. And to think, a friend we met traveling thought I had it figured out!

Naturally, leaving everything I knew, (family, friends, career, car, and down payment on the condo) to pursue an inkling to travel far and wide, long-term, was one such impulsive idea which, given my past credo of decision-making, was a lot easier for me to heed than my emotional antithesis, my loving best friend and partner, Troy. Life was simpler when I was the only one bearing the consequences of my wild fancies. Now I handle the utter destruction of two lives...

To give you an idea, those who don’t know him, he is the closest thing to a quintessential son, brother, friend, and partner: intelligent, funny, sensitive and loyal. His trademarks are logic, sensibility and practicality; which only make his interest in me and acquiescence to cut loose all the more mysterious. Nothing seems to shake his imperturbable calm, (my screeching freak-out sessions in apparent vain) and you’d be hard-pressed to find someone praised by more mothers world-wide. Truly I couldn’t have engineered a better engineer. Yes, I count my lucky stars…

Despite his darned level-headedness, I’d launched a campaign of persuasion, as my sweetheart was markedly against leaving it all; his blossoming engineering career, family, friends and desire for financial perfection the opposing, angelic voice to my devilish prepositions. He was finally starting the adult life he’d dreamed of and prepared for, for so long. I, on the other hand, was plainly unhappy with my job (despite the ability to make money), enduring the mania of a gossipy pill popper appointed -in a resplendent act of corporate effenciency- to a managerial position, consequent tremors of my heart and sucking of all life from my veins. It must be noted, however, Troy was engrained with a singular, straight-forward, childhood calling, for which he was armed with an insatiable curiosity about the world around him and overwhelming mathematical prowess. He was always, effortlessly, to be an engineer. In addition, his work environment was vastly superior. So, it’s fair to say, I’m doing a wee bit more soul-searching than he is, unless those wigs, prosthetics and size 15 stilettos I found are his…that’s another story. ( just kidding, Lucas, Carlos and Debbie)

Certainly not a newsflash, but being in a long-term committed relationship changes everything, changed me, most notably due to the ten-letter relationship maker or breaker: compromise. More importantly, the desire to compromise. Any pair lasting longer than a few months can attest to this. How else could we share a lifetime when we’ve different tastes, goals, and dogmas; those which, after my bouts of commanding and supplicating, still remain disagreed upon? I’m conditioned to get what I want by years of successfully utilizing my velvet hammer and Gallagher-esque negotiation practices; family and friends duped into the front row, unhappily smattered with flesh, juices and other residual carnage before, pulling up their protective plastic sheet, resigned and weirded-out, leaving me to my strangely pointless destruction.

Obstinate and erratic behavior notwithstanding, Troy perpetually tries to make things work to make us happy: the hallmark of a truly fantastic friend or spouse. And, therefore, challenging as it may be, so shall I!

At a many-times-still-immature 27, however, redirecting the egocentric stare of teenage-dom outward has been a slow and painful enterprise for me, (even with patient encouragement from my Prince Charming) my well-trained attentions focusing constantly, reflexively on myself. Oh, the arduous charge of foregoing personal desires for someone else, someone you love. (I’m not talking about getting Captain Crunch when you wanted Lucky Charms, or watching ESPN when you wanted Laguna Beach, although those too are major relationship sacrifices.) I’m talking about real pain and longing evident in something you truly wanted, given up for your loved one. **an aside: I’m really starting to better appreciate the plight of the fortuitous trio – branded at 15 as self-centered, abjectly belligerent, simultaneous 1st, 2nd and 3rd comings of the antichrist but in the clarity of semi-maturity and hindsight, just doing their best - namely, my parents, who must be laughing loudly right now**

After much ado, he finally agreed to leaving our life on the basis that, at the end of one year, we both would return to the US, to work, rectify our finances and work towards our Masters degrees; rebuilding some semblance of establishment. A year ago, I assumed I would have discovered my calling, and subdued my itchy feet with extensive travel through 14 countries, however, on the cusp of this impending deadline ( much to Troy’s annoyance) that is not the case. It’s closing time, and like a spoiled child treated to, hypnotized by the vivid Technicolor, blustering merriment, endless excitement of a sugar-filled amusement park, I don’t wanna to go home L

Months prior, we’d briefly discussed setting up shop in Taipei, Sydney or even Auckland; for New Zealand we prudently obtained a working holiday visa back in May in Rome. Because the year-end was still far off, and not yet demanding of our attentions, the discussions were not entirely serious or fruitful. Time elapsed, as it has the rude tendency to do, and we were confronted with the austere dichotomy of closing this chapter of our life, returning home to the states OR staking out an exotic locale to pseudo-settle, complete with address and phone number, then continuing to travel. You can probably guess what I wanted to do.

And then there was Troy.

The past few weeks, we’d kept a dizzying pace, zig-zagging taxingly across Asia by way of reckless taxis, red-eye flights, dilapidated rickshaws, second-class stuffed trains, smog-choked tuk-tuks and 40-hour bus rides (apparently through hell), damned with ungodly sounds, smells and the deepest, most furthest stretching potholes in existence. All things you guys have heard about before.

In their newness, these things imparted culture shock and adventure; entertaining novelties, becoming a part of colorful memory as our first travel times. Now, they become quickly exhausting, intolerably stressful and all-together overwhelming, making me wish I’d a magic wand to instantly materialize somewhere else. This, in addition to living with a few tattered clothes from a smelly backpack, (never being able to dress-up) always eating out, always pinching pennies, not having a sanctuary, gym or routine of your own, and constantly changing cities, languages, cultures and countries has finally taken its toll. As a result, when you’re blasé about fantastic locations, you know it’s time to slow down, chill out.

Thought I’d never say that, didn’t you!

Full circle: the reason for our inertia and my lack of writing was this major life decision: Go home or stay abroad. Troy was hesitant, a tad homesick, needing to settle his finances, and leaning towards going home to Arizona. He was also, however, seduced by International work experience, and the idea of surfing, rafting, canyoning, snowboarding, and mountaineering abroad. With some much-appreciated parental assistance in selling Troy’s truck, my opinion was immediate. His took a little longer.

I spent the better part of 2 weeks explaining why I feel settling in New Zealand is the better option for both of us. We can get an apartment, transportation and communication again. We can settle into the routine and comfort of a normal life while still continuing to explore the world; Australia, Fiji, Philippines, Indonesia. We can live in a foreign country and gain valuable experience from doing so. I rationalized. I explained. I coerced. I pleaded. I tried to show him the US and his impressive credentials and resume are not going anywhere. We can always go back, when we want, if we need. I also conveyed that, although I really did not want to, I would accompany him home, back to Arizona, if that's what he really wanted. The ol' C-O-M-P-R-O-M-I-S-E

As I explained above, I've pondered salad dressings for longer than this. Troy, however, sensibly refused to decide. He needed time, thought, and advice ( from someone other than me) before he chose. He wrote a list of pros and cons, and weighed the columns. My little engineer.

It was a trying month, but I can announce we are in agreement and, YIPEE, moving to Auckland, New Zealand! Both Families, Ruba, Maki, Sascha, Kurt, Lucas, Tony: you guys all have a place to crash if you come to visit :)

In the next month we’ll hit Singapore ( again), Darwin, and Brisbane before settling into the north island, New Zealand metropolis.

Stay Tuned!!

xoxoxoxoxo

2007-01-06T14:38:00.000+07:00

A few more Nepali trekking blogs updated ( remember to scroll down, back to October)
http://daijalovestroy.blogspot.com/2006/10/day-four-part-three-immediately-i-lose.html
http://daijalovestroy.blogspot.com/2006/10/day-5-bagarchap-to-chame-2160m-to.html

and pics on fotki updated! www.fotki.com/visceraltext

Happy New Year-2007!

Wishing the happiest of birthdays to Poppa Bear and Clemens :D
To all our friends: you were sorely missed on NYE, but we'll have one again together soon
XOXOXOXOXOX

2006-12-25T18:15:00.000+07:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS :D

As all of you know, we are in Goa, India for the holidays with our buddies Allen, Holly, Christian, Robin, Christiana, Ron, Daniel and Umberto. Tonight is our lobster Christmas dinner!!

We wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Think of us while you feast on turkey, yams and pumpkin pie.

Love you, miss you and see you all very soon

xoxoxoxoxox
Dai and Troy

2006-12-11T21:30:00.000+07:00

If you think India is swarming, chaotic, uncomfortable and choked with grime, dust, smog and gut-wrenching stench, you’re right. Compared with back home, it might as well be a different planet. The abject squalor, unscrupulous scam artists, annoyingly-persistent rickshaw-wallahs, suffocating bustle, and ear-splitting vehicular horns piercing painfully, incessantly are, for many, too much; steamrolling even the toughest traveler’s tolerance. Moreover, the changes in diet, air quality, lack of sleep (deafening noise is resident, uniform, fundamental) and exhausting hyper-awareness to thwart touts grate, inevitably, upon any residual sagacity. One traveler confessed needing to leave as he’d become “quite the a*shole”, falling quickly into agitated disenchantment.

There are just too many people. Public infrastructure is stressed comically beyond its faculty. The power grid is intermittent, unreliable and volatile; threatening to deep fry our sensitive Ipods, digital camera and laptop in a whimsical surge. While outside, lungs, in search of breath, will distend on the noxious stew of burned-oil, stagnant urine, manure and thick, impossibly-permeating dust.

Transportation of any government-run variety is a tedious abomination; a loony caricature guaranteed to be uncomfortable, tardy and mismanaged. Accurate transit information is elusive; hidden disparately for a hasty, ill-timed treasure hunt; usually resulting in a fantastic perversion of one’s schedule. Only the dogged glean fact from the cryptic, mostly fallacious mutterings of government employees, solely charged, in their impudent apathy, with foiling your route; which will undoubtedly incorporate additional, miscellaneous, multi-hour delays. Furthermore, the pictures of 2 and 4-legged bodies rammed into, hanging out of, and clustered on top of moving vehicles are not fabrications.

In the cities, unhygienic, frantic, random, dangerous, idiotically bureaucratic things flounder all around in teeming, 24-hour pandemonium; far beyond Western comprehension..

Daily rituals, simple errands, even recreation can become abhorrent as Western standards of cleanliness, logic and overall synergy deride the visceral cultural experience that, I’ve come to know, IS India. The incessant challenges are, however, not without reward. After a futile, vexing struggle, contrasting my lifestyle requirements with theirs, I learned this frenetic, fascinating country is savored by the resolute, whom, in their thirst for understanding, patiently accept the good, the bad and the extremely ridiculous, ( much like you would in any person) as an imperfect whole. Killing India with kindness and tolerance is central to maintaining personal peace, else, you’re confined to the downward spiral of embittered disappointment. Once I vilified my judgments, comparisons and enlivened my sense of humor ( which was not easy for me), I discovered my passion for this intimidating realm. There is a saying: anything worth having does not come easily; and such is the case with India

Notwithstanding admitted regressions into aggravation, I’m enraptured, sometimes in the very same breath and therefore I sympathize with those who classify their relationship with India as “love/hate”. What other than marvelous, exotic, addictive cultural experiences could lure you back into seemingly masochistic anarchy?! One moment I’m infatuated with her vegetarian, sweet yogurt and cinnamon-spiced cuisine, overtly social people, Middle Eastern Mughal architecture, and incredibly ornate clothing. In another moment, I ponder going home, breaking up, after she treats me like a soulless ATM, poisons me with rotten victuals (condemning me to a squat toilet), and even steals my only pair of shoes from my feet. But her wrath is capricious, fleeting, and it’s not too long before she’s wooing me, splendidly, again…

Grotesque, inconvenient, painful experiences and all, I am thankful she exists, lucky enough to see her firsthand, as Earth would be a painfully homogenous place were it conquered by the sedentary, climate-controlled, hyper-convenience of the West. Many a complainer would be done a substantial service, toughening up, living a much different (perhaps also more fulfilling) life on this side of the world. **Were we really made for air-conditioned shopping malls?** Still, acclimating to an environment and lifestyle so shockingly different, even wild by comparison, is a delicate, exigent, time-consuming process. But, I’m willing.

India’s lifted me up, beat me down, and I can say, haggardly, I’m not through yet.

We’ve discovered Vishnu, Shiva, Ganesh, saddhus, yoga, meditation, and mysticism. We’ve dined on mind-blowing dosas, chai (the original stolen from Starbucks), uthapams, puris, samosas, lassis and gulab jammun. We’ve been cheated, helped, harassed, extolled, chased, enchanted, and befriended. This country incarnates the inherent living dichotomy in all of us, the epic contrast between forces side-by-side: yin and yang, black and white, good and evil. In touch with my ongoing metamorphosis and education, I appreciate these honest incidents, traversing this less accessible and, consequently, more authentic culture, feeling the richness, the diversity, the over-populous pulse tangibly beneath my fingertips. When I’m pissed, when I’m sick and when it hurts, I chant the doctored maxim: When India doesn’t kill me…

2006-11-13T16:59:00.000+07:00

**Scroll backwards to see trekking entries-starts Oct 13th**
More PICS uploaded www.fotki.com/visceraltext
Thankfully, I couldn't foresee the events to transpire during our guideless and porterless journey through Nepal's central Annapurna region, because (as many of you know) I am not what you'd call calm in the face of adversity. Let's agree my pathetic trajectory through challenge or crisis consists of several hyperventilating freak-out sessions and crazed screeches before a loss of consciousness, time and tolerance (on the part of my companions). I can admit I'm probably the most annoying, exacerbating, complicating force to negotiate on top of adversity. I have no medical training and no mountaineering experience under my belt. Hell, I'm not even an "outdoor" girl.

I'm acrophobic, claustrophobic, prone to panic attacks, a hypochondriac, control freak and afflicted with a tad of OCD, where I obsess about the worst outcome of any given situation, like dropping my brand new laptop outside the 4th-storey window I sit against typing this.

Right.

So, how was it I was with Troy at the foot of the tallest mountain range in the world, preparing to circumnavigate several 25,000ft + peaks? (Many of you are probably wondering how I was accompanied at all? *innocent giggle*)

My new best practice: by the seat of my pants, on a wing and a prayer trying to remember: THIS IS LIFE! I have wasted too much energy on this trip (and in life for that matter) in the past and future, each breath being filled with both dread and longing, while the perfect, present moment ends in vain. Planning, regretting, worrying, in a never-ending cycle ceasing ( I am learning) only when I do.

Premonitions of the remoteness, inherent dangers, infections, physical pain /discomfort, environment and incessant exhaustion involved with trekking through the Himalaya for 25 days would have only hampered our adventurous experience, as we blissfully wandered Kathmandu, gathering final provisions.

Cleverly, for the sake of our experience, Troy coaxed me to "let go", as was necessary on the choppy flight of antique Airbus 155 from Bangkok to Kathmandu, which did, honestly, help a bit until I saw a feathering crack extending from the floorboard to the ceiling which, I could have sworn, was sucking out air. The news of an overheated-engine and emergency landing in Delhi due to missed maintenance the week prior vetoed any calming thoughts as I tried, casually, to blame my profuse sweating on green curry from the airport lounge. Tepid water chugged and last of my three stale peanuts chewed, I succeeded in grinding my molars to the gum as I mentally re-enacted the plane ripping in half over Myanmar.

More wasted prana (from Hindu, life energy), but I digress.

The TRC, Trekking Registry Certificate, a bill which was still pending implementation in Kathmandu on Oct. 14th (our set date of departure), requires the use of either porter or guide from a recognized agency on any trek in Nepal. Considering ourselves lucky, being the last of those who could freely wander the conservation area trails, we purchased two local maps, an Annapurna region guidebook and a compass, deciding, whatever the outcome, to seize the day.

Troy and I are forever changed.

In this sacred land, the second highest country in the world ( first being Tibet), ancient lifestyles withstand time, religions meld, evolve and resonate, idyllic landscapes tower and people subsist as they did over 300 years ago: tending to animals and living from the land in a beautiful simplicity which patronizes why many Westerners live the chaotic way we do.

Faced with something truly celestial, spiritual, and rare, I was awe-struck, dumbfounded, cleansed. Who is this person inside me climbing these vast, steep cliffs? Dirty, uncomfortable and exhausted treading treacherous, narrow footpaths of mud, rock, and snow from dawn until dusk, I ventured into a part of me I hadn't known before.

The separation from modernity, communication and media allowed me to concentrate on doing one thing at a time; sipping a cup of tea, climbing a challenging path, writing in a journal. All meditative and purifying in their garnering of my undivided attention, these simple acts cultivated a sublime joy, which was intensified by the surreal scenes I'd become a part of each day. Strangely, unexpectedly, the obsessive clinging to existence, perpetual phobias of danger and death, and inertia of worry and doubt dissolved as easily as the crusts of foreboding ice on our path each morning.

Anyone who has spent time in the remote regions of Nepal will tell you what we've just experienced: there is something magical, intangible, intensely spiritual about a journey through the Himalaya.

We were away for 25 days. I will organize the postings by days of the trek, starting Oct 13th: our bus ride from Kathmandu to Besi Sahar. Hang in there! Soon, I will have everything up to date.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

2006-10-17T20:50:00.000+07:00

Day Five-continued

Nanoseconds before Nepali-Kujo launches, sinking its teeth into our tender calf or thigh muscles, a fearless porter armed with a stick from his bushel of firewood, bludgeons the brute, forcing his retreat. Thank you sweet Lord! With a new lease on life (or at least a better appreciation of mobility from the thighs down), we continue ahead together to Timang, and breathe our sighs of relief over a hot lemon from a quaint teahouse, liberally strung with the green, yellow, red and blue of prayer flags; the first we’ve seen on the trail. **Buddhists believe the wind takes your prayers ( written across the colorful linen squares) up to the heavens for God to hear and answer.** We leave Ron, who waits for his daughter Christiana (who is still adjusting to the exerting schedule), to continue through this deceptively high yawn, sprawling and soaring at over 2500m above sea level.

You could easily mistake the magnificent high-altitude fields of Timang for those at the base of the Alps in Germany, Austria or Switzerland. Cobble-stoned paths, weathered rustic wooden-fences, vivid wildflowers of fuchsia and yellow sprout from a rolling carpet of greenery, and massive Manaslu, ensconced with an impressive entourage of snow-caked false peaks, occupies the entire south-western horizon. A chocolate cow dozes across our path, taking full advantage of the relaxing warmth of midday, and clinching the sleepy, intense beauty of this little village.

Another slew of commemorative snapshots. It’s as if each step forward unveils an even better view, a more intense panorama than the last.

Our tanks are on full after the rest, hot lemon, Mars Bars and conversation we had with Ron, and we break into a brisk pace happily discussing our noticeable improvement in fitness. We’re definitely due after 50 hours in 5 days of forcibly cudgeling, contorting our ill-prepared, lactic-acid-swollen limbs up these mountains.

At our current pace, I surmise the circuit trek rivals a hard-core military boot camp: painfully crawling a razor-thin line separating too-much-too-fast-too-soon collapse or emotionally-charged accomplishment of the seemingly impossible. Keep in mind, this is coming from a disciplined I-can-take-pain marathon-runner not a child of the lazy, video-game, fast-food culture of America.

The healing pass of time, unless the joke’s on us, caused those we interviewed to omit the grueling intensity and unrelenting sweat, pain, breathlessness, discomfort involved in this trek. For those interested, in no uncertain terms: It’s flagrantly f#&^%#ing hard, especially when you carry your own gear. You’d be wise to train for months before setting off. We didn’t, and of course, the plus side, is your body is whipped violently into superb shape, shedding pounds of fat in less than one week amidst the stunning glory of the Himalaya. Which, of course, is not too shabby. In addition, there aren’t many situations in a cosmopolitan life where you’re eclipsed by nature, required to be largely self-sufficient, utilizing your corporal brawn over brain and, I must say, it feels surprisingly good. Maybe it’s the primal satisfaction of knowing you can carve out survival without modern, technological convenience; even despite our planetary evolution towards feeble, dependent cream-puffery; ( I chew a chocolate donut as I type)

The long days of intense and steady exercise have quadrupled my normal food intake, and I’m a bit too aghast (and short on time) to list what I consume in a typical day; suffice to say it’s around 4500 calories. Don’t divert your disgusted attention yet, as I attest my (grimace) 4 Snickers a day-the #1 trekking staple- aren’t inhibiting my accelerated-Dr. Doolittle-ish weight loss. It seems I’m burning, blisteringly, through the inordinate amount of food I’m eating; my chugging intestines, regular high-speed digestive plumbing. A business idea faintly flickers in lights: “Attention chunky! Forget failing Fat Camp and jowls jammed with Jenny Craig. Jiggle your wide load to trek Nepal!” Maybe the marketing’s off, but you get my drift…

Anyway, finally we feel fitter. The welcome realization of improved fitness boosts our mood, and Troy and I bask in the warmth and pleasance of each other’s company, trotting towards a narrowing switchback, to climb beyond, up and away from Timang. Our chunky boots crunch along the powdery dirt and gravel, splashes of sunlight dancing with shade, dappling our chalky path. A few moderate hours outside of Timang we notice the next sloping incline, shaded, flanked by crackling branches, looming languidly above the distant hiss of the river. It’s long, but not remarkably steep, in comparison from what we’ve tackled, and we are surprised to lose our breath so quickly. The routine 2 minute rest we’ve employed thus far doesn’t do the trick, and we pass an indefinite period wheezing and huffing, hungrily gasping for the remaining oxygen in thinning air. Have we suddenly aged 40 years? Was it delayed reaction from the gravity bong? Did that last Snickers send me to death? No. No and No. It’s our first taste of an at-altitude symptom- breathlessness- and quite sobering considering we’re less than half the height we’ll reach soon.

AMS, or acute mountain sickness, is a dangerous consequence of ascending too quickly; the reduced concentration of oxygen in the air too low for the respiratory and circulatory systems of your body to assimilate and function properly. The highest point of earth, roughly 8800m, 28800ft or the cruising altitude of a commercial airliner, has roughly 1/3 less oxygen in the air than at sea-level, and if you were to take someone from Amsterdam and place them at the top of Mount Everest, their lungs would flood, blood thicken, brain swell, and they’d be dead in 2 minutes. Unfortunately, despite awareness efforts of HRA (Himalayan Rescue Association) and KEEP ( Kathmandu Environmental Education Project), and the fact that AMS is entirely preventable, deaths of trekkers in Nepal from AMS continue to occur each year.

As the paranoid obsessive compulsive hypochondriac already with just “medium-health” (as one local fortuneteller informed me), I researched the hell out of AMS via Google, Lonely Planet and lectures at the HRA. The unsettling truth of every at-altitude activity is: you cannot predict your own acclimatization, regardless of how you’ve done in the past. Each time and every person is different, and contrary to logic, youth and physical fitness cannot prevent AMS- in fact, older out of shape trekkers are less susceptible as they climb slower than their younger, fitter counterparts. Children are at higher risk as they fail to communicate their symptoms in time.

Basically, there is no fail-safe avoidance, blanket panacea, save listening to your body, which, in early stages can be hazy at best. Most alarming, however, is the fact that some never acclimatize, despite the most generous, gentle schedule of ascent (slower than the suggested 300m per day over 3000m) and this combined with a delayed onset of symptoms clearly spells ( to an OCD) L-E-A-V-E N-E-P-A-L N-O-W.

Troy self-assuredly says “Like getting into a car or crossing the street, you take your odds and hope you’re not that caveat”. I nod, smiling, while trying to control the incessant replay of my death: my swollen brain popping from my skull on a remote snowy peak.

Insult to injury is that the throbbing head, dehydration, lightheadedness, and cumulative exhaustion often accompanying intense hiking could also be the early symptoms of AMS which are: breathlessness, fatigue, nausea, headache and dizziness. Ill-educated or strictly-scheduled trekkers ignoring ( or misdiagnosing) their symptoms inevitably and quickly deteriorate into acute AMS, advanced pulmonary and/or cerebral edema, and then, death. In the event you have any symptoms, you’re advised to stay at that altitude and rest. If you worsen, even if at night, immediate descent with a partner is suggested.

In addition to heeding early warning signals and rest, drinking 5-6 liters of water per day helps prevent AMS. I’ve never consumed that quantity of liquid daily before, (about 1 and ½ gallons) and even during strenuous activity, Troy needs to constantly remind me to drink. It’s also challenging because our water tastes not like water, but a piss dirt slurpee. (The passing of CO2 through urine, increases the concentration of oxygen in the blood stream and one of the effects of the controversial drug for AMS, Diamox, is increased urination. On it’s own, urinating more frequently is a good indicator you’re acclimating properly.)

“Always drink copiously” says a large metal sign punctuating the circuit; including symptoms and treatment for AMS: “Listen to your body” and “Descend, descend, descend!” ACAP ( Annapurna Conservation Area Protection) also had sufficient foresight to include a further clarification- most useful for European trekkers- “this does not include alcoholic beverages”. Visions of an army of red-faced, bloated drunks, staggering up the mountain, stopping diligently on the Throng La Pass for their keg stands. This method of mountaineering is apparently in the not suggested column.

**An aside: Isn’t it interesting that, like the sign and the strange warnings on packing (i.e. “Do not get in eyes” on a bottle of mouthwash) when something implied is spelled out, it’s because someone industrious tested the waters for yet undiscovered exceptions to the rule. Somewhere out there is the creative man who ran out of eye drops, mistakenly looking to the leftover Listerine.**

We follow the sign’s insistence and after a chunky-water chugging, we feel ready to continue, though still feeling the sluggish weight of minor fatigue. My heartbeat is still pattering-another symptom of high-altitude- and I try to control it with relaxed deep breaths. It abides…for now. Mercifully, the remainder of the day is spent without losing or gaining further height; it’s a relatively flat path. It’s serendipitous, because if this were steep, we’d probably need to spend a night back in Timang, literally catching our breath. But, we truck on.

2006-10-17T18:27:00.000+07:00

Day 5-Bagarchap to Chame 2160m to 2710m

Yesterday’s clouds have gone and as the dawn sky softens from cool slate to warm pink, the first incandescent sunrays smolder the white tip of Annapurna II a smoking gold. She catches me in the court-yard, chilled, puffy-eyed, unsuspecting, and renders me spell-bound on my way for masala tea. People say you can never accurately describe what it feels like to see the majestic Himalaya up close for the first time. It’s a humbling, swallowing, visceral high, unlike anything I have felt before. How can innate rock make me feel this way: utterly dumbfounded, elated, in awe of the inconceivable magic inherent? Let’s agree: I can understand why Nepali have founded their religion in them. It is our first close up view of a Himalayan peak. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen; not simply because of its sheer size, fantastic aesthetic or world-wide fame (which in their own rights are also quite impressive), but because there is something intangible, subtle, even supernatural in that mystical mass of mountain.

In quiet morning moments, sipping my strong brew, I am blind-sided with why we’re here: close proximity to total earthly perfection. The celestial pervading joy, impossibly-romantic illumination, crystal-clarity and bone-chilling grandeur leaves every soul awake stunned and silent, admiring a sight we are all so lucky and have worked so hard, so far, to see. Suddenly, I am reminded of my fortune, of the love for Troy, my family and friends, and also for myself. It is one of those seconds, one of those few in a lifetime, wrought permanently, deeply to my soul; a euphoric lightness filling through me, opening and ripening my heart. Free from misgiving, distress or regret: I am happy.

What IS this salacious satisfaction? Could the mountains be bringing me in closer touch with God? Or just quieting the distractions to see myself?

Either way, we dreamily move through our morning routine; drugged in overwhelming adoration and Nepal’s interminable beauty. I am you! You are me! We are everything! Ok, ok…I know it that’s abjectly bleeding-heart, ( not my usual bag, baby) but it’s quite possibly the most special sight I’ve seen and the ensuing euphoria succeeds, transcends where lost souls’ chemical attempts complicate, misconstrue and confuse.

Wishing to preserve the calm solitude of the awesome sunrise, as the boom-boxes and boisterous babble are slowly switching on, Troy and I forego breaking our fast to get a head start on the trail. In our hurry, we miss an inconspicuous stretch, to rejoin the wide gravel trail from Bagarchap; the mischievous (and quietly omniscient) donkey biting his tongue and only smiling as we truck past, the wrong way. Twenty minutes of exploring a veritable spider-web of slight trails, I have the hanging feeling of forgetting something, of needing to return. Mentally running through the tally of things I remembered packing and things I wasn’t sure about, a light bulb bursts overhead and I recall strangely setting my Ipod on the balcony ledge. Why did I do that? We stop, lost anyway, and I dash back, leaping over the cobblestone path to the lodge to luckily find my Ipod and ( not so luckily) all the trekkers we tried to pass gathering, loudly, in the courtyard. I guess it’s my just desserts for rushing and I remind myself, no matter the noise, this isn’t a race. Everything always as it should be.

Starting over from the lodge, we notice the correct way, curving east towards the cold, violent-looking river 200 meters below. The modest cluster of worn wooden teahouses comprising Bagarchap clings, somewhat grimly, to the gravel ledge overhanging the river; a deadly landslide obliterating most of the picturesque town a few years prior. The golden light has strengthened to stark brightness, and Annapurna II is now a blinding white. Breaking our northern direction for the first time since Besi Sahar, the trail begins to swing back west, hugging the cliff, climbing higher through a dense, evergreen forest.

Although its decidedly morning, the sun is not strong enough to warm our faces or brittle muscles; the overhanging botanical blot diffusing the cool, alpine sun. We plod, briskly into the crisp forested shade, trying to jump-start our own, built-in heating stomping over the thick mush of red and brown leaves. Chill from the thinning air seems to sterilize every scent -save the slight, ubiquitous aroma of mud- and it’s stinging as I draw breath; my arms and legs rippling with goose bumps. Amazingly, my pack is beginning to feel comfortable slung across my shoulders ( something I never thought possible); the 22lbs thankfully no longer cutting, aching, but an extension of me. Carrying my things myself makes me feel potent, capable, independent.

As we’re tackling the wide, shaded path north-north-west, the majority of the day’s 550m climb confronts us. An inconsistent, extremely steep path, starting as stone steps veering off into dirt incline, slices diagonally into the cliff, obviously a newly fashioned detour resulting from monsoon erosion. In the distance, we see the slow procession of hikers, their tiny heads bobbing slowly, with marked determination, upwards. After crossing a “rustic bridge” ( two enormous logs, slippery with moisture and moss, over which we shimmy, clumsy in thick-soled cumbersome boots) beneath the thick canopy of dark greenery, we buckle down, steadily plodding skywards against this brutal, make-shift ascent. Half way up the steep, shaded slope, we reach an extremely narrow switchback, about the width of my feet side-by-side, and the familiar stiffness and nausea of my acrophobia sets in. One slip and I’m a pinball clinking down, break, snap, crack; a rag-doll against the impervious, innumerable tree trunks. I lean completely forward, palm to gripless dirt and waddle, ever so carefully to the next, wider section, feeling I am getting better at cliffhanging. I didn’t even cry :)

The towering feather and stretch of pine branches breaks at the top of the hill, where we are given are first and only view of the highest peak in region: Manaslu. Palest blue, its contours against the sky’s hue ever so slight in the pastel distance, rising jagged and massive. Climbing higher, our south eastern view is framed with the lush, hunter-green of high altitude evergreens and scrubby juniper and our shiny faces are finally flushed in the morning sunrays.

This is much more than I’d dreamed; worth each ounce of blood, sweat and tears spent getting here. As I’m slathered in scenery, sunrays and sweat, there’s contentment, joy. Troy and I take a moment to download into our permanent memory banks. It doesn’t get any better than this.

We admire this mighty panorama, catch our breath, and take a photo. In doing so, the approaching trekker we’d tried desperately to outrun reaches us. Initially, Troy and I feared he led the entire pack of 20 French pole-prodding trekkers from Bagarchap, and not wanting to be knee-deep in blaring music and other various humanoid disturbances (no! no! no! oooh-lala! Jean-Claude!) we pushed, breathlessly beyond our fitness, ahead. We can see now, and feel a bit sheepish, he’s alone and impossibly friendly.

Ron Eckert; why I left my Ipod, and started off the wrong way this morning. None of us know it yet, but he’s my guardian angel. Standing an athletic 5’11, he’s textbook: equipped with high-tech doodads and brand-name outdoor gear we didn’t have the expertise or foresight to bring; his perfect white smile and strong jaw bristled in a groomed salt-pepper beard. Picture the most quintessential outdoorsman, stir in contagious high-spirits a measure of gregarious good-nature and there you have it. Ron hails from Vancouver, and despite being 61, does not look a day over 40; an inspiring commercial for the benefits of healthy-living and life-long exercise. Continuing up the last of the climb, we enjoy a smiling ( he was doing the smiling, us the labored huffing) conversation about the views, iodine vs. chlorine purification, and his 22 year-old daughter also on the trek, Christiana; in his voice the approachable and upbeat articulation of a jovial top-40 radio announcer.

Suddenly, a large, wily dog appears and threatens, barking and growling, trotting aggressively from the trees. Rudely snapped from my merriment, a lone memory fizzles across my throbbing cranial neurons: foolishly declining the doctor’s suggestion for rabies inoculations at the Red Cross in Bangkok. Treatment for rabies entails a series of fourteen, 6-inch-plus, stomach-stabbed shots, but let’s not fantasize about the rewards just yet. We freeze in panic, and I visualize my bloody flesh speared on the brute’s jagged incisors. We have no defense. A leg injury, however minor, to any of us would ruin the remaining three weeks of hiking, probably requiring a dicey helicopter ride back to Kathmandu for treatment.

Easy. Eaaaaasy. No sudden movements.

2006-10-16T23:46:00.000+07:00

Day Four-Part Three

Immediately, I lose the facade of reason I’d so painstakingly painted around me minutes prior. We’ve gone the wrong way. Monsoon rains, which fed the destructive landslide that swept away the path behind are also, I notice, responsible for demolishing chunks of the ancient staircase; feeble, torn tree roots and splintering rock the only thing restraining myriad fat boulders. They loom; definite, jagged, nerve-racking, with high a probability of dislocating from the carious expanse beside us.

Of course locals, frequently traversing all sections of the circuit, know when a path becomes dangerous, impassable, and subsequently devise a ( not so conspicuous) detour. Sometimes its tree branches laid horizontally across a path. Sometimes someone else will cross in time and help. But, sometimes (many times as our trekking gods would command) you have nothing at all. Not having a guide, an experienced trekker, a local, or even an exact map of the area, we followed where the path seemed evident; in this case, going the wrong way, wasting an exhausting, sweaty ascent and most harmfully, needlessly endangering our safety. This was our first scary lesson: the apparent way is not always the right one.

Now it’s time to get down.

Solar radiation from my astral onlooker unaffectedly cooks skin and retinas which, unfortunately for me, are without hat and sunglasses today. The heavy heat presses mercilessly around my hot skull, which seems to exacerbate my heartbeat, now fluttering dangerously out of control. Though I’m not moving anymore, I feel painful cardio convulsions. Beat…beat…beat.beat.beat….beat. My arrhythmia, a deleterious consequence of highly stressful situations, chokes and throbs sporadically in a stiff chest. Each feral, defiant breath pulls quicker in a violent reflex, the friction of baked air against my inner flesh stinging, until the shallow, oxygen-less rhythm staggers me in dizziness. Tightness behind my eyes and temples pulls, twists and squeezes to fashion a thick migraine squarely in my sizzling brain.

A full-blown panic attack.

I’m woozy and seeing stars, fastened anxiously, precariously, to an apathetic rock far from the safety of civilization. Seriously: What if I slip? What if I need medical attention? What if my haggard heart short-circuits? Suddenly, the lurking, disabling fear I’d been repressing, bursts hotly forth rolling down my cheeks in salty streams. I’m a city girl who buys Starbucks, cute tops and pedicures. I’m not an effing mountaineer. What the hell am I doing here?

“Trooooooooooooooooooooooy” I blare breathlessly behind me. I strain over the whistle of wind and distant churn of the river, trying to hear a response. Only the well-timed, possibly mocking caw of a passing crow. Pressing my pack forcefully into the gritty step behind me, and gripping a clump of weeds, I look over my left shoulder, pleading to see any sign of my boyfriend, trekking partner, savior.

Nothing.

Inching carefully down the stone and dirt incline, I’m desperate, keeping my eyes locked on the small, distant man still waving to me. Almost imperceptibly, the words “I’m OK” slip across my lips; steadily increasing into a chant. I’m making my way down, allowing my focus to tame wild, counterproductive fear. Ignoring the distinctly fatal, barrierless drop to my immediate right, I’m squatting, pressing my back into the mountain. Moist triceps flex, clutch the worn rock behind me and I ease my weight down another few feet. My sweat-soaked backpack clumsily lurches forward, almost over my head, and back down again, teetering by its straps as I lean down, then stretch a leg carefully down from the patch of rock I’m on. I loose my breath for a split-second each wobbly pace down, assured the cumbersome weight of my pack or an unlucky misstep will topple me. Salty and completely drenched, even my fingers ( WTF?) are perspiring. The tip of my right hiking boot plants on the uneven, widening path beneath me, and my body elongates, slides slowly down to meet it. I imagine thick sharp teeth gripping, pushing through my soles, easing my step, prohibiting a slip. After descending this way for an apprehensive eternity ( but probably more like 15 minutes), the stones grow attractively larger and the flight of steps is tolerable, almost easy by comparison. Again I see the hot blue, towering grey, dry green brush, bubbling torrent, parched valley; everything. The breathtaking picture is just as I mentally left it minutes ago. Far away, just barely in my view, I cherish the unmistakable, airy bob of a butterfly. I collapse for a moment, resting my back against the mountain, catching my breath and staring blankly upwards; such a vivid expanse.

I’m off that damn deathtrap!!

Witnessing my descent and presuming my safety, the heaven-sent guide throws a quick thumbs up, and continues north, following the river, as did the fellow I noticed before our 45-minute, pointless climb. I wave and zealously shout my thanks. Moving normally now and almost back to the gravel-covered ground, I turn to see Troy moving effortlessly down the dilapidated staircase, in leaps and bouncy bounds, like a confident, rambunctious youngster blissfully blind to the inherent danger of haste and high things. Waiting until he’s in earshot he smiles and shouts, almost chuckling:

“Just drops off up there…must be the wrong way”

I prepare mentally for a verbal barrage to assail him. You left me! That was a stupid decision! I could have slipped, fallen to my death! Why did we go this way instead of waiting for someone else? This is a landslide area and could have killed us both! What the hell are you thinking? Don’t you care what happens? AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Grimacing with my brow tightly furrowed, I mull the best expletives for completion of my feelings, as he cheerfully descends the last stair. Through gritted teeth, I draw a vengeful breath. He grins, approaches, and stops genuinely surprised to see the expression on my face. **An admitted flaw in my personality is my quick temper. Although its remarkably fleeting, the wounds it inflicts always leave me-and my victim- disturbed, regretful, and I promised myself part of this trip would be devoted to improving and learning about myself ( as well as others).** I tiredly exhale the anger ( which, over the years, I’ve become too proficient in hording and kindling) and phobic mania, heavily, slowly and through the dissolving haze, see my beautiful, breathless best friend.

“Yea…you’re right. Must be the wrong way. Let’s try the river”

He agrees and we set off following the proper trail to the north.

The wide dry valley and churning river pour through a zigzagging, narrowing pass after which the climate and brush becomes decidedly alpine, very much reminding me of Lake Tahoe in the summer: rugged chalky cliffs flagged by various evergreens with hoopoe, crow and hawk gliding through toasty thermal pockets. **One of the most amazing features of the Annapurna circuit trek is the dramatic change in elevation-and therefore flora & fauna-in a very short distance. If you remember we started by a waterfall in the rainforest!**We come to the second suspension bridge, and its much more dramatic than the first: a flexible alloy ladder slung laterally fifty feet above snarling, shallow rapids anchored sufficiently ( or so I hoped) into the rocks with 4 thick screws on each side. The addition of another trekker or donkey transforms the bridge into a nauseating mix of violent see-saw and funhouse walkway. Apparently, my pained expression and stiff gripping of the cables ( or maybe my petulance? :D ) was inciting as Troy ensured I didn’t pass without launching me skyward. I’m still not sure if he noticed the missing planks, in alarming groups of two and three, as he gleefully stomped from the other end.

Heading east over the river and finally approaching the last portion of the day’s trek, the trail is a straightforward, steep ascent of broken stairs which tightly hug the cliff before widening and flattening into a slight, steady incline. Thin clouds in several shades of grey press together and towards the ground, blanketing the valley in fog and cooling us in moist, welcome shade. My head finally stops throbbing. The dusty gravel path grows to 25-30ft across; wide enough for the carriages and Clydesdales, rhythmically clopping, ringing with slews of reindeer carillon and garbed in colorful ethnic weave. It is barely raining.

We discuss our likes and dislikes -so far- of different types of trails, and both agree this stretch is the easiest and most pleasant, when factoring in difficulty, danger, and effort. So, it wasn’t too challenging to stimulate our sore, sweaty stems to carry us, quickly and steadily beyond the bottle-neck of trekkers on their way to Bagarchap. The cool mist and crisp wisps of silver fir across our noses propelled us forth; we arrived second to the lodge, and first to sample the amazing, solar powered ( and actually HOT) shower.

After cleaning up, while on the balcony, my quivering calves ( which had been bothering me all day) decide to revamp their anatomical position, seizing upwards to the back of my knees. Buckling at the waist, knees and ankles, in a sort of skeleton jangle, I eke out a three-toned sour sound to the attention of those in the courtyard; one German fellow decides, altruistically, to shout advice on the importance of proper post-workout stretching.

Dinner is consumed quickly and quietly save the few minutes spent discussing Charlie horses and a poor donkey who’d been jostled from his load-sharing brethren, in a bone-cracking, five hundred meter fall; eerily the same place where, earlier, I’d almost gone over trying to pass. The evening is very chilly after dark; maybe even below freezing and delicious hot lemon has become a staple thawing beverage. We are droned to sleep by the next-door monotone of two hippies from the US discussing, among many other fascinating things, their cats’ sleep patterns, the consumption of only organic produce and a shared obsession with ginger tea.

2006-10-16T23:44:00.000+07:00

Day Four Continued

The trodden path branches and splits across the sunny, sloping breadth leaving us to navigate by the towering walls of the mountains. To the north the valley narrows, passing between two adjacent cliffs. Naturally, I visualize skull-crushing boulders streaming through the air, our hapless bodies like empty soda cans obviating a gigantic pounding palm. Another riotous explosion and subsequent growl rolls around us. What else could it be? Despite my desperate pleas to wait before continuing, Troy and I keep trodding the incline north towards the chasm, our heads slung skyward searching for the origin of this deafening cacophony.

Another 15 minutes brings us back to a clear trail, and we can see the white, rectangular entrance arch to Tal. A gentle path, easily traversed, stretches to the top of a small ridge flanked by a quaint wooden guesthouse and garden restaurant. As we reach the top and descend, approaching the gravel-lined, languid river below, a couple soldiers sporting loaded rifles loiter on a small stone wall. Upon spotting us, the adolescent pair swathed in ill-fitting fatigues, jogs boisterously towards us.

"Boom boom”

They chant and gesticulate ambiguously, fervently, as if the vigor in their manner assists in being understood. We offer a smile, and I giggle, these boys younger than my baby brother, but they block our path, waving towards the eastern cliff. This sheer face looms 1000ft overhead, blanketing sky with jagged boulders and sparse shrubs, only a crescent of celestial blue escaping from above. To our right, in the courtyard of the garden restaurant, we notice a handful of trekkers clustered together, strangely, shadowed by the west wall of the building. Coming closer, I notice they all face the eastern cliff and have their fingers plugging their ears. One trekker spills the valley’s strident secret: the soldiers are rebuilding the trail. Late monsoon rains washed away what the soldiers recreate artificially, dangerously, tediously with explosives. High on the cliff, boulders and stones plummet in virulent tributaries; rocky, jagged piles bridging, again, the queue of everlasting organic traffic.

3-2-1

Another wild shockwave quakes and ripples through the deep valley. My ridiculous expectation of spectacular, action-movie-esque annihilation (a vision equating volume) lessens the effect of showering smoke and rock, isolated and far away; plumes of haze dissolving into blue-bright light. The mighty explosion, seemingly a rapid succession of multiple detonations, splicing atmosphere from high to low pitch, is painful at such short range; a violent, echoing rocket engine. Observing the capricious expression of awed locals, their children riled into ecstatic hyperactivity, we wait through one more blast before being permitted back to the trail.

Minutes into resuming our pace, we fail to consider further effects of late monsoon downpours, plodding absent-mindedly through lackluster Tal. A yard of sand, four colorfully adorned Clydesdales and a few bland structures later, we are again in the open, sizzling valley narrowing between sheer stone walls. We veer from the intensifying, churning river, following the track of smooth stones slightly east, ascending to steps wedged into the mountain. Further back we passed a throng of mules and their herder; our alacrity to retain a lead catapults us, speedily, breathlessly, into solitude. I steal a glimpse of someone distant continuing north by the river and we start, again, into heavy, sweat-slogged climbing.

The stony, slick staircase extends up several hundred feet; each step losing width and gaining height. Nervously, I paw the wet mountain to my right, carefully securing my footing before heaving myself skyward. My heavy pack makes me cumbersome, top heavy, so I lean forward, almost brushing the vertical surface, literally hugging the path. Step by step I inch higher, and as the precarious staircase trickling with water narrows, my periphery vision is filled with nature from a blurry distance: the river, gravel and dry brush all around, far below us.

Twenty minutes of escalation bestows disquieting height and we are dripping from our soggy shirts. My heart, zealously knocking and pumping, flutters up a dry, swollen throat. I swoon in sweltering heat and vertigo. With better judgment, and a firm acknowledgement of my debilitating acrophobia, I fix my pupils straight ahead, but they defy me, falling straight down the hot, sheer edge to a fixed point directly below me, inches to my left. The familiar stiffness of panic slowly, apathetically, bleeding breath from my lungs and locking down my spine, extinguishing all motor skills, solidifies; I am frozen, hunched over these steps. Droplets of sweat slither down my forehead, streaming from my eyebrows. Blinking the salty moisture away, pleading for confidence, I struggle to relax, stay in control. Breathe.

SHI&^%@!!!

Troy is annoyingly far ahead of me, and he can’t hear me shout. The disjointed, archaic trail we climb continues to deteriorate, eventually disappearing into the rough of the mountain. I glance up 100 feet and see the stairs are barely the width of Troy’s body; a fact which he seems to pay no mind despite (for all intents and purposes) hanging from a vicious precipice. I am convinced we are not technically qualified to be doing this. Further up, straight above us, loose boulders jut from the craggy surface, bathing us in their unwelcome shade. A sickening, tightening fills my stomach. Keeping grip on the rock with my right hand, I turn my head back, very slowly, over my right shoulder. I can feel shreds of tense neck muscle croak and ping into motion.

I can’t see anyone.

During the next minutes, I spend my reserves of logic and calm rehearsing, rehashing, repeating, why I cannot die here.

Why are we using this route?
Why won’t he look back here?
Why the hell am I paralyzed, teetering on the cusp of rocky obliteration?

In an excruciating, panting beat, where I taste the utter desperation of mental collapse, there is a figure; not far from Tal, approaching from the south, slowly advancing by the river. Focused on this little ant of hope, I hold my ridiculous pose on the staircase: half crawling, half embracing, my head locked backwards and down, staring at this distant man. A few minutes pass as he comes into closer view. Is he jogging? Compelled to wave down to him, but clinging to the mountain side in an unhealthy panic, I decide to waste my breath and scream:

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey"

He's waving his arms through the air, like an umpire calling safe, but I know he couldn't have heard me. Troy is out of sight now, probably waiting at the switchback I will never reach. I loosen my grip to ease down the next step, smooth and slick with water. Turning around to face backwards, I rest my pack on the steep trail taking care to lean left, away from the edge.

It finally hits me: He's saying....NO! Get down!

2006-10-16T23:43:00.000+07:00

Day Four – Chamje to Bagarchap

As dawn breaks, the stark chill of last night hangs over us, stolid, apathetic to the difficulty in leaving a warm, down cocoon. I’m cold, cranky and tired. Spending my night hours and head lamp-cum-strobe light to confirm the bug population of our room was not the best use of my time and I’m suffering now with heavy limbs and bloodshot eyes. No more coffee at bed-time.

Blades of dusty sunlight slice through the 1-inch cracks between the wooden-plank walls, (The Waterfall Inn isn’t interested in flush plank installation, let alone insulation) and I realize what I missed in the low light last evening: the ceiling is festooned with spider-webs ensnared with varieties of live and dead insects; a feast for the corpulent blood-sucker calling our hut home. I shudder and check the recesses of my sleeping bag for the 5th time before hobbling downstairs to the toilet. Troy starts packing his things.

I have to confront my insect issues; they’re starting to embarrass me! (Troy was not the only one I kept awake with my headlamp-assisted paranoia) And there’s no better place than trekking in Nepal for exposure, exposure, exposure. Maybe I should eat one? Ugh. Maybe not. Troy, forever boyish-camping cool, can sleep anytime, anywhere with anything slithering/skittering over his face and body. ** An aside: What the hell?!**

As you may remember from our other Asian adventures, toilets in Asia are porcelain rimmed holes over which you squat to issue your business. Traveling for many months now, I know to bring my own paper and am relatively comfortable in most bathroom situations.

Waterfall Inn’s toilet is a crude cramped affair (like all others on the trek), perched on the edge of a ravine plunging down beyond my line of sight. Still intensifying, the sunlight is misty and pastel, as it’s not yet six am. With my puffy eyes barely cracked, I duck below the ceiling of tin, fasten the wooden door closed behind me and follow normal protocol: sliding my pants off while pulling both cuffs up from the floor.

Dim light isn’t enough to illuminate the inside of the wooden outhouse, and with the wooden door closed, it’s difficult to see. Tired, I squat, my arms and knees brushing the rough front and side beams. I pee, and lean to steady myself with a left hand against the wall, waiting to evacuate the bladder a la Austin Powers. Immediately, I feel a distinctly hairy mass, apparently as startled as me, break into movement. Muffling a scream into a shrill squeal, I recoil upwards, skull ramming painfully into the corrugated roof:

“AAAAAAAH”

Enough to bring tears to my eyes, the near-concussion dazes me momentarily. I rip my moistened pants up to my waist (ever grateful of their black, urine-concealing color) and noisily clobber and kick the door open to an interested audience of both locals and trekkers. Light now flooding the wooden shack, I turned around to see the interloper, fierce, poised at the front porcelain lip. A dark brown, thick-legged, fat-bodied spider, the biggest I have ever seen, stares sinisterly from its cluster of beady black eyes.

As if waiting for a more dramatic punch line, the entertained bystanders gape at me: I’m panting; puffy, wild eyes, glaring from unkempt hair, white-knuckle gripping the waist of my un-zipped pants in one hand, crumpled toilet paper in the other. What? Haven’t they ever touched a huge spider before?

It takes a few seconds to regain my composure. I button my pants, slow my breathing and begin to walk back upstairs.

“Yes, I’m fine… Thank you. Yes, I’m cool.”

Heart-attack and head injuries are fine ways to start the morning.

At breakfast we’re briefed on the tough climb to Tal: 450m of steep ascent before lunch. It’s important to start soon to avoid the heavy heat sure to submerge us in sweat when the sun creeps a little higher. I peel my outer layers off, we iodine 2 liters of water and set out before the rest.

Immediately the trail is challenging. It is wet. The myriad waterfalls breathe life into the slippery growths of algae and moss blanketing the boulders we must climb. Cool air and dank smells of wet wood waft up from the valley. I snag a bamboo walking stick from a passerby for 50 rupees, and hoist my body, and 22 lb pack, slowly up the path. Large rocks and boulders protrude, some loosely, from old broken steps worn slick over time; the circuit, a centuries old Tibetan trading route.

To beat the incline, the trail is cut into steep segments of 15-20 feet that carve left and right, with a small resting switchback at each direction change, all the way up. In some parts water is rushing down over the stones; you’re literally climbing a waterfall. Looking up, I’m disheartened; it looks tough. Starting our ascent, I hear the acceleration of my knocking heart, eventually climaxing in a frenzied pace that reddens and chokes me.

Breathe in. Step up. Breathe out. Step up. Each 2-foot pace up is a determined effort, which musters all of my strength, muscle control for that moment. I can feel the veins in my face and neck throbbing, blood tearing hysterically through me. Ignoring the burning, heavy fatigue in my legs, I fight my way up, step by damn step.

Every few moments, rest. We set our packs down in a switchback and gasp for air.
We continue on in this fashion for two hours, when, finally, we reach the top.

It looks like the next stretch of trail is mercifully covered in shrubbery and outstretched tree branches, preserving cooler air for our sweaty, lethargic hulks. Taking a few healthy swigs of iodine refreshment, I stroll the gentle slope for a few moments to discover it winds steeply skyward, away from the shade; a somewhat depressing view when you’re still breathless, soaked from the last incline. Remembering the present, the view of valley around us, now bathed in a luscious glow, I release the negativity plaguing me. I’m cooled by the breeze, and realize I feel refreshed, alive. The swift kick of my pulse subsides into a warm, throbbing euphoria; the familiar endorphin high of intense exercise. How lucky I am, we are, to be here, living this fantasy. It’s fantastic.

During our respite, a drove of mules meanders past, adorned with yak-hair head-dresses and dull-ringing brass bells, their herder grunting and whistling behind them. As intrinsic and frequently-sighted in this bucolic wonderland as the towering snow caps and dramatic waterfalls, mules are vital trade vehicles in this medieval realm absolved from modern transit. The whimsies of foreign tourists are loaded, hauled to each settlement, even those in the furthest, highest regions of Nepal. You can feast on American candy bars at 17,330 ft!

Too tired to outgun them up the trail, we let each one, propane, Snickers and firewood astride their saddles, squeeze tightly around us. For the first fifteen minutes, I enjoy the slowed pace catching my breath and feeling the breeze dry my sweat. Soon after, however, we both became restless convinced this speed would waste our precious daylight hours, and deliver us into Bagarchap after dusk.

The mules, their herder, Troy and I advance over the ridge we’d climbed all morning; path now sharply descending to a switchback where it curves north towards a suspension bridge. Noticing a much steeper shortcut cutting down ahead of the mules’ path, I lean back, swing my boots sideways and inch down the slope. Instead of curving to break the steepness, this shorter path goes straight down. There are no rocks, just loose dirt and shrubs, and each rushed baby-step, trying to beat the mules around, finished with a slight skid downwards. On my fourth step, I loose it, slide down head-first slowing inches from a precipice, and land in a patch of nettle-like bushes which instantly devour my legs and hands. It feels like sharp thorns rake across my legs and right arm. As I stand, brush the dirt from my pants and pack, and survey wreckage of scrapes, stinging and swelling, an on-coming mule smiles beneath its swaying pom-pom head-dress. It leads the pack, leisurely passing us… again.

A felicitous break comes, as the mules stop just before Tal to drink, and rest. We edge by the watering pack delicately, avoiding potential ill-tempered and infamous rear kicks, continuing north towards lofty valley of Tal. Squarely in the mid-day swelter, our pace slows to a crawl, as we creep into the jagged alpine basin. Trees have disappeared leaving scrubs of juniper, wild carnations, dry grass and dirt to blanket the expanse.

The sky is brilliantly blue, free from any wisp of cloud, so we are stunned to hear the deafening crack and ensuing rumbling resembling thunder. A few seconds pass before the next sickening crack. Is there an avalanche? We scan the low end of the valley, looking for hikers, locals, anyone. The indolent buffalo seem disinterested in the epic roar of their land, content to sun themselves in the bright sunshine.

to be continued--

2006-10-15T21:14:00.000+07:00

Day Three - Bahundanda to Chamje - 1310m to 1420m ( loss of 300m gain of 410m)

We don't wake up to the sound of the alarm at 6:30. The very last people to rise, eat and finally leave at 8:30am, we have little regret agreeing we needed every second of rest. The nagging sense we need to hurry, however, plants itself firmly into both of us, and we rush to pack and hit the trail. I am glad to feel mildy refreshed with 12 hours of sleep, amazed with my body's speedy recovery. Last night, I couldn't have continued another inch, and this morning, my neck and calves are aching, but I'm ready. I think...

We are greeted with smells of fresh mud and the sweet smoke of smoldering juniper; burned as an offering to Budhha. The morning is perfect, again: cooler than yesterday, no clouds, a light mist shrouding the base of the valley. Our view is blotted with all shades of green: terraced fields, spongy shrubs, hemlock and birch. We turn the corner exiting Bahundanda, and I'm confused to see the trail heading back down to the river. After studying the map for our route we learn, depressingly, much of the 1700ft we climbed yesterday will be immediately lost, quickly, in the first 45 minutes; a frustrating situation that occurs frequently on the circuit. Such a waste of energy. Envying the school-bound youngsters leaping down around me in thongs ( of the footwear, not underwear, classification), I chant in slow steps down: God...grant...me...the...serenity ( or at least sure-footing and knees-of-steel like theirs)

Although both of us brought a fully-charged Ipod, we leave them packed, surprisingly, preferring the calming sounds of the valley to music from home. An admitted addiction and usually a welcome distraction, my Ipod would become unecessary added weight for all of the trek. Absorbing Himalayan audibles is as pleasureable as the visuals.

Both of us purchased high-quality hiking boots before setting foot in Nepal, though we did meet several ill-prepared trekkers in low-rise trainers claiming boots were unecessary. This was, of course, before they hit snow and ice. We came to appreciate boots and their water-proofing quickly, as in many places, "trail" is a euphemism for a barely passable incline/decline choked with huge slippery boulders, mule manure, foot-deep mud and/or moving water. Constant attention and care is necessary to avoid injury.

**an aside: Entertainingly, these treacherous stretches would often be described by a Nepali as: "flat" and, thus, the misnomer "Nepali flat" was coined. Along those lines, never fully trust Nepali estimates of proximity or difficulty**

Clumsy under the added weight of my pack, I misstep into a mud-manure mix, and my ankle ( not my ego) is spared with the support of my Northface boots. Traumatic memories involving Bavarian pseudo-stones of cow shit flood me: On a family picnic in Germany, frolicking, my 8-year-old bare foot sunk into a sickly steaming load I'd mistaken for a smooth rock. In a move of cosmic poetic justice, Troy, cackling as hysterically as my family did 19 years ago, would become vastly superior in manure-boot meetings. I spent many a night trying to locate rotten smells before accrediting his unhygenic talent and contaminated boots.

The quick descent levels, path sneaks and winds upwards nestled in moist forest. Sweat-dampened, we continue easily along the slight incline with uniformed children, trail clinging to the sloping bend of the hills. I think about the truth in their future bragging of : "5 miles, uphill, both ways". *see pic*

White water ribbons thread the rocky expanse to the west, zig-zagging down in rainbowed spray from boulder to boulder, falling as much as 3000ft to the river. Before this, the only waterfall I'd seen was the 80ft Sacred Falls on Oahu, Hawaii. These are more than ten times the size, and, unbelievably, even more beautiful. I feel a lightness, a happiness, and continue with a subtle, internal grin. I'm elated to have my soulmate and best friend plodding contently along with me. We are in this moment; I am completely fulfilled.

One of our maps, no doubt published by some hippie, demarcs "healthy" marajuana fields on this leg. We search excitedly in vain, only spotting buckwheat and yellow sprigs of Anise ( the main flavor in black liquorice and Sambuca), settling for the pot-caked hands of a hash-manufacturer just before Lamjung.

"Smoke hash?" he stops to inquire, offering a sniff of his sticky-sweet palms. After giving us a quick lesson in hash production, and politely refusing to show us the mother-lode, he garners 20 rupees with his warm, smiling request ( about a quarter) and continues on his way. *see pic*

Because the hills we climb are slowly creeping higher, it is not long after leaving Jagat - our lunch stop- our hike is bathed in cool shadow, as the sun has ducked behind the westward slope. We feel good.

Jagat is where the Maoists are supposedly collecting "donations" or more accurately: forceful, involuntary extortion with the added bonus of possible violence. I knew Nepal had a history of political instability, but didn't know anything about the Maoists before researching our trip. With strongholds in many remote areas, away from the accountability of law, they hold a carte blanche for their behavior; forcing total compliance with their desires, luring impoverished youngsters to enlist with promises of protection and stolen wealth. All this is under the convenient pretense of representing their political views, and resisting the control of the monarchy. Total crap. They are a wiley militant group, terrorists in my humble opinion, much closer to bandits than political revolutionaries, and tales of their involvement with battery and corruption are rife even though they claim to value tourists and tourism. Extortion and manipulation of the poor Nepalis is even more appalling; squatting in any village they please, ordering the locals to feed and house them at their own expense. They allegedly beat a young trekker bloody, days after we passed their checkpoint, for refusing to pay their "fees" stating he was Polish and sharing their communist views. With the 73 seats they were given in Parliament, they are supposed to end extortion, but quitting a limitless flow of funds in a 3rd world country seems dubious.

We trek blissfully into the late afternoon, discussing the likelihood of skirting them, when we approach Chamje: their new checkpoint. Ten men with loaded rifles, sit and stand behind a crude wood stand, clothed in military fatigues. They stop us and feign etiquette when requesting "fees" for their cause. I do not doubt encountering seething ferocity, now thinly blanketed in civility, if we were to stupidly refuse them. Just wanting to get the hell out of there, we pay them a Nepali fortune: 2400 rupees ( about $33 ), and request passage. The leader launches into an accusatory sermon on our current administration, and inside, my exasperation builds. What an uneducated idiot! Individuals with the interest, finance and education to sit here with them, half a world away from the U.S., don't like the effing bastards either. I think I'm giving them a piece of my mind, rolling my eyes and flicking them off. What actually happens is : we listen silently, nod sheepishly, our proverbial tails jammed down between our butt-cracks in acknowledgement of their semi-automatic weapons. Aroused by our submission ( ?), they command us to stay at the Waterfall Inn, and curtly bid us leave with a wave of the hand.

Rudely yanked from euphoria, we plodded on to Chamje in the wet dusk, taking solace in our eventless and completed rendezvous with the Maoists. Unexpectedly, the Waterfall Inn was all right, perched across the deep canyon from, you guessed it, a dramatic waterfall! I'd underestimated the meditative properties in the sounds of rushing water, and sit on the balcony enveloped with myself for almost an hour.

I'm tired, but thankfully, not like yesterday.

We chat up a strapping bloak from Montana (who attempted to summit Manaslu back in 1999) before retiring to our spidery abode. I force Troy to switch beds when a hairy, seven-inch arachnid crawls into view directly over my head. Much to his chagrin, I click on my headtorch intermittantly, all night, in search for other 8-legged friends.

Rest eludes me tonight.

2006-10-14T22:12:00.000+07:00

Day Two-Besi Sahar to Bahundanda 820m to 1310m

Dawn comes quickly and we chitter excitedly over porridge and Nepali tea about the crystal clarity and our first glimpse of the Himalaya rising from the low structures of Besi Sahar. My clothes and I are clean ( for probably the last time on the trek), the weather is fantastic ( cloudless and 70 degrees) and we're ecstatic when we set out hiking.

The path starts sharply to the east over a smattering of large stones breaking a very steep descent to the Marshyangdi River and then widens, swinging up and north, to a dirt ledge wedged into the mountain overlooking a breathtaking valley blanketed in lush green. Peaks of the highest range in the world loom high on the horizon, competing with sky, far beyond the heights of the mere hills we traverse. *see pic* This is surreal.

Freedom!

My pack feels intolerably, increasingly heavy, at about 22 lbs, and I'm starting to worry about my ability to finish the circuit with it, as it cuts deeply into my virgin shoulders. How much are donkeys?! I ignore the subsiding lower back ache I'd gotten pinching a nerve back in Kathmandu, and focus - easily- on the incredible path before us.

Late October and November being the height of tourist season, I expected to be toe-to-heel with other trekkers, but aside from a few locals headed the other way and one Canadian and his guide behind us, we are all alone on the trail. It's exactly what we envisioned. We continue in content silent awe, listening to the distant rush of the river below.

Nepal shares the same latitude as Florida, and at this low altitude it takes less than an hour for the warmth, humidity and exercise to soak us in sweat. Simple, country-side smells of manure, warm grass and hay are thick. We come to our first shaky bamboo bridge spanning a current of stone-choked water. The bamboo is worn slick and the entire ordeal has tilted precariously sideways. I painstakingly navigate the slippery cylindrical planks in a few long minutes when a bare-foot porter, with a 100lb load strapped to his forehead, quickly shuffles by in less than 10 seconds after me. *see pic*

We downed our last liter of bottled water and nervously cracked open our bottle of Potable Aqua iodine tablets. Following the directions meticulously, we pop two tabs in, wait 5 minutes, then shake and tighten cap, and wait 30 minutes before drinking. This time-consuming process reduces chances of getting water-borne amoebas and parasites, which affect their host with, among other tasty symptoms, eggy flatulence and explosive diaorreah. I've never had water treated with iodine, and I am depressed to see the color change to a cloudy yellow, and taste chunks of sediment. The vitamin tablets purported to improve the taste impart an "Airborne"-esque flavor, which, when mixed with the iodine flavor, is supremely disgusting. I contemplate drinking this urine-like disaster for another 25 days. A local girl stares, puzzled by our procedure, takes a few big gulps from the stream, then continues on her way.

Because we don't have a sherpa/guide or porter, and mainly because I have a nervous personality, we question locals, constantly, about the course:
"Namas-te" Hello, literally, I salute you
"Kati ghanta Ngadi?" How many hours to Ngadi?
"Ngadi na-jeek"? Is Ngadi close?
"Dan ya baad!" Thank you!

The locals are an attractive people, of noticeable Chinese and Indian descent, with smooth features and flat buttery faces. Bare-foot and bow-legged old men hobble slowly by, wearing traditional Nepali hats and vests. The women, with copper hoop earings and swathed heads, squat over grains in their clay abodes as their dusty naked children press their tiny hands together and say:
"Namas-TE!"

Roosters, mules, and buffalo roam the cobble-stoned streets of the medieval settlements. The locals seem to lack middle-age population. We see only youth or eldery; perhaps a sign of the hardships of hill life...

The three roof-riding Spaniards we met on the bus continued yesterday to Khudi, the next town 2 hours from Besi Sahar. We cross Khudi at 9:30 am to break for tea and see them stretching for the long day ahead. They greet us as they did yesterday: in a barage of lightning quick Spanglish they assume, in error, we understand. We smile, shrug and keep going.

For one reason or another most people have time constraints when they arrive to trek in Nepal. Condensing the circuit into 15 days or less is, unfortunately, common and therefore when at lower altitudes they continue as long as daylight and their fitness allows. The Spaniards, along with us and many others, will adhere to a grueling schedule of high mileage and even higher ascent before altitude, weather or (hopefully not) sickness restricts the hike.

We drop down from the wide dirt path and finish the walk to Ngadi, our stop for lunch, in a colorful valley of orchids and fields of corn and buckwheat. Orange, yellow and blue-black monarchs encircle us and the picturesque trail, punctuating the fairytale beauty of this place. I've never seen so many butterflies. We're already dirty, breathless, drenched and both welcome this gorgeous haven to eat and air our boots and socks after 4 straight hours of hiking. I wonder how feet can smell like pickled onions just hours into our month-long hike.

We noticed, oddly, foreigners flock to the first teahouses where they notice other foreigners. This gives an unfair distribution of wealth in the small village, so Troy and I pledge to patronize the most desolate houses. In doing so, we feast peacefully in a vivid garden of lillies, carnations and cherry tomatoes, alone, save the beautiful woman who cooks for us, her 12 yr. old daughter, and a large praying mantis. ( I would later learn that a praying mantis is capable of killing a small bird!) *see pic*

Troy indulges in the national dish of Nepal, infamously plentiful on the Annapurna Circuit Trek: Dal Bhat. Village to village and even household to household the preparation of this dish varies, but you will always receive some form of dal ( lentil soup), vegetable curry, and bhat ( rice). Ever popular with porters and trekkers, Dal Bhat is cheap, prepared with locally grown ingredients, served with free refills, and perfect hiking fuel. After a few weeks, however, most trekkers cannot stomach yet another bowl of lentils and rice and opt instead for strange-tasting interpretations of Western foods: spaghetti noodles with ketchup, yak-cheese and kidney bean burritos, curry-ful chocolate croissants etc.

After lunch, sluggish from carbs and rest, we came upon a very steep, seemingly endless climb to Lampata, the town before our stop for the day. Forty-five minutes in, soaked, sore and beginning to tire, we reached the top of a hill where Troy misreads the map and estimates it will be 15 minutes to arrive in Bahundanda.

We see our first dramatic waterfall leaping from a green Western cliff, and I steal 20 minutes of rest, gazing at the fantastic cascade framed in red blossoms.

**An aside: When I use the adjective "steep" referring to the trail, many might picture an incline similar to a San Francisco street. This is not accurate. The steep areas are such that - especially with a backpack - we need to bend over, swing our steps outward 45 degrees like a duck, and grip the dirt/rocks above us to climb**

Another sweat-slogged hour inches away and we are beginning to doubt our map and guidebook; an upsetting notion on the first day of a month long, guideless endeavor. The sun has now ducked behind the rolling hills, throbbing heat subsiding, and the rocky path continues snaking up and up and up with no sight of Bahundanda.

Feeling the familiar just-out-of-reach-ness I felt running a marathon, a checked my watch to see another hour and a half had passed. It's starting to get dark; where the F&*^*& is this place we should have reached hours ago!? My neck has an acute ache, shoulders are chaffed raw, calves are vibrating in involuntary spasms and we discuss spending the night by a huge boulder on the trail when Troy spots a cluster of thatch and stone establishments on the next peak sure to have lodging.

It is Bahundanda, and not a second too soon. It's been a 10 hour, 11 mile and 1700 ft ascent today. It will be the easiest of our hard days to come and it's a painful crash-course back to physical fitness.

The Mountain View Lodge, highly reccommended in the guidebook, is another 100 steps up from the center of the village, and I am literally on my last shred of consciousness as we stumble into the courtyard. The cheery owner, panting heavily after the 100 step ascent to the cottage, offers us a room for free (probably because our haggard, sweat-encrusted appearance is pitiful). Exhaustion greatly assists acclimitization to village/camping standards, and I couldn't be happier to lay in a powerless, waterless bug-enriched thatch hut on a 6'2 slab of plywood. We're finally here!!

Mist-softened dusk hangs spectacularly over the valley, where we tower above the terraced cliffs we'd climbed for the past 5 hours. The crisp dusk turns chilly as night falls, my wet shirt now cold, and we eat dinner by candlelight on the balcony. I'm to tired to think, write or read. I can't remember when I've been this completely spent.

I keep my promise to Mom, spending $12 for a 1.5 minute conversation: "Hey Mom: We're alive. I'm exhausted. This call is $12. Love you,"

Seemingly all the spiders, beatles and roaches in the hills launch an initiation of the first-timers, partying on our faces and in our sleeping bags, but, for the first time in our lives, we don't/can't care! I say a quick prayer of thanks, and then, doubtful of my own abilties, quietly ask for the endurance I need for this journey.

Tingling and achy, we fall fast and hard into dreamless, coma-like repose.

2006-10-13T22:37:00.000+07:00

Day One-Kathmandu 1420m to Besi Sahar 820m

We catch an old white Datsun taxi from Potala Guesthouse in Thamel to the local bus station at 6:15am. I am nervous about the bus, which is a local bus, as there is no tourist transit between Kathmandu and Besi Sahar, the starting point for the Annapurna Circuit Trek. We have come to understand "local" means more people, more animals, more speed and less caution; my kind of party.

The morning is misty but clear-about 65 degrees-and the sun is a reddening disk low on the horizon. We forego small-talk with the smiling driver, intently speeding and swerving the entire 20 minute drive, who drops us at the curb and points us toward the throng of restless, shouting Nepalis in a concrete compound centered in the bus yard.

Hesitation in our approach to the building (decorated in only Nepali) baits us for the predatory group of 20 who circle, shout and pull at our arms. Are we in the right place?? After a few loud and helpless minutes, we follow a young Nepali- who has decided to snatch our tickets- behind the compound into an empty lot with two vacant buses. I guess this is our ride to Besi Sahar.

In my flip flops, I climb onto the roof and lift our two packs into the luggage bin: a crude rectangle of aluminmum bars raised from the roof about 6 inches.

Stamped on the tickets is a warning of zero responsbility for lost bags. Because the luggage rack is on the roof, watching our bags all the time would entail sitting on them; something, in Nepal, I'm not ready to do. In Kathmandu, we learned baggage "loss" is frequent on this route, and one couple arrived in Besi Sahar sans backpacks, after an 8 hour ride away from civilization.

Hoping to thwart possessionless arrival in a remote Nepali village, I padlock our bags together, as I can't fit the lock to the luggage bar. Dangit! I cross my fingers and charge Troy to monitor roof activity at each stop.

At quarter til 7, the bus, scheduled to leave "promptly at 7am" ( as relayed from the travel agent) is still deserted, and we ponder possible misunderstanding as tens of crowded buses are departing from the front parking lot. Over the next half hour, there's a slow trickling-in of passengers, who, in their congregation by the bus urinate, brush their teeth and blow snot-rockets. One nasty fellow distances himself a few feet from the bus before defecating.

At quarter til 8, the bus driver, cute and about 18 years old, saddled-in, quickly disspelling the morning calm with, what would become, a routine battery of the shrill, multi-tonal horn.

Annapurna, here we come!

Forcefully, the driver commanded access to each foot of pavement with jarring blasts of gas and brake, a method of allowing drivers with the will ( or rather intoxication level) to collide with people, vehicles or animals through first. For me, this style of driving, though familiar, is still not quite tolerable. I pondered the status of the 3 Spaniards and 16 Nepalis riding our luggage as my skull-cum-wild-pendulum smacked the seat cushions after each gas-brake crescendo.

Finally free of the city traffic and loose on the mountain road, we fully memorized an upbeat Nepali song which seemed to last two hours though having only 4 lines. I can't complain, as with the whole bus humming along, it was actually pretty cool.

The countryside is gorgeous; lush, green and wet. The hills remind me of California, but the rice-patties remind me I'm quite far from there. Unfortunately, the real mountains are obscured by the closer hills and mist of the morning, but we're getting closer :)

Just before 11, we slow behind a large stopped dump-truck; the driver of which seems to have departed his vehicle in front of a steep switchback. We sit, stopped, for a few moments before our driver implements his plan of action: repetitive horn-blowing. Now visibly annoyed, he hops out and walks around the bend. Troy and I hang our torsos from the open windows to catch a glimpse of a 35-seater passenger bus which had just sailed off the road and plunged into the ravine.

A few minutes pass, we realize we are all impotent voyers, and people sadly, slowly return to their transportation to finish the journey. I don't know if it was full, or how many died, but I know to survive a fall of 1000ft inside a bus is dubious... Paying closer attention to the foot of the steep ridge we drive along, I notice the evidence of these frequent happenings littering the riverbed below. By the time we reached Besi Sahar, I'd counted six.

High clouds string together in the late afternoon, and we still can't see the mountains. Late, but thankfully safe, we arrive and check into a shockingly basic room where I struggle to embrace the smells, spiders, poor lighting and general filth in the name of adventure and experience.

We lose power at 7pm, which seems to excite the local children who spend the next 5 hours launching bottle rockets and fire crackers outside our window. No matter, though, as we were exhausted from the journey and sleep like babies.

Besi Sahar, like many other small Nepali cities linked to mechanical transit, has all the negative elements of a city, with few of the positive ones. It's littered, noisy and crowded, but we won't be here for long...

The saga begins!!

2006-10-12T22:02:00.000+07:00

Namaste ( hello in Nepali )

Sorry I have been so lax with posting. We have been running around like crazy getting all our gear and medications needed for our trek in the Himalayas. We will be offline for the next month experiencing the most beautiful scenery in the world.

Here is our first trekking itinerary.
Day 1 Besi Sahar
Day 2 Ngadi
Day 3 Chamje
Day 4 Lata Marang
Day 5 Bhatang
Day 6 Humde
Day 7 acclimatization-stay here extra night
Day 8 Manang
Day 9 Gunsang
Day 10 Letdar
Day 11 acclimatization
Day 12 Throng Phedi
Day 13 Muktinath
Day 14 Jomsom
Day 15 Tukuche
Day 16 Kalopani
Day 17 Ghoreipani
Day 18 Birethani
Day 19-22 Pokhara
Depending on how spent we are afterwards, we may do the Everest Base Camp trek.

Thank you all for keeping in touch, sending your emails and love, and we will be back with pics and blog soon. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Happy Birthday to my bro John, and belated to my sweet Troy, and I just turned the big 27 myself :P

Cheers!

2006-10-08T17:37:00.000+07:00

Are you craving some adventure?

While we deftly avoided many pitfalls of world travel, rancid chicken injected us, unexpectedly, through the chaotic bowels of SE Asian urgent healthcare. Now, I know what you're thinking: That must have blown. For six days it did, quite explosively, however, to keep my mantra of positivity elevated from mere mortality and the uh....infestation of ravenous parasites eating me alive, I meditated on the hospital's 4'6 wooden slab(the bed) and was Enlightened.

My epiphany : real adventure tourism in Asia! No, I'm not referring to pedestrian kiteboading or scuba-diving. Thrill-seekers: Unleash your attentions from boring activities confined by pesky safety standards and regulations...This is revolutionary.

Still a best-kept secret, the most suspense-filled rides in SE Asia are had by devouring contaminated street-delicacies and checking-in to backwater hospitals. Many boast peeling, yellowed walls, dank communal rooms and antique medical equipment adding a touch of old-world charm to modern excitement. Also, forget the sanitation guards for thermometers and other potentially-infectious devices! Don't worry, bothersome, time-consuming WHO standards won't inhibit fearing for your life.

Shaving years off your longevity and appearance in the quest for adventure has never been easier or more uncomfortable. Be the envy of other extreme sport activists with a cool haggard appearance, stress-induced heart-palpitations and newly greyed hair. Stories of mountaineering in the Andes can't compare to being injected with Hep A B and C by the same smiling nurse in the hospital!

Poorly-trained staff will lead a confusing exchange of questioning and miscommunication in broken English before haphazardly-inflicting healthcare sure to terrify and hopefully ( wink-wink) death-defy.

Why limit your vacation gambles to a few seconds on a bungee cord when there're days, even weeks, of exhillaration from the questionable pratices of medical neophytes? As seconds tick painfully by, satisfy a "need for speed" by quickly dodging air-filled syringes and mis-prescribed medications while resisting total physical deterioration. Hard-core participants can grant the trainee's constant, fruitless harpoons for blood samples and IVs, receiving in return swollen, bruised masses of perforated vein tissue.

You heard it here first : Remote Asian hospitals are the newest conquest for the machismo adrenaline junkie. What's ballsy-er than a zero chance of survival?

2006-09-22T18:44:00.000+07:00

a few new pics posted to fotki from a few days in Ko Phi Phi Don, Ko Phi Phi Leh, and Kata Noi in Phuket Thailand...

More to come!

www.fotki.com/visceraltext

landed in Singapore, and almost with a new laptop!
love you all xoxoxoxoxox

2006-09-18T21:15:00.000+07:00

As you can imagine, we are in a much better place physically and mentally than last week. We tired of all the old men in Patong sporting skullets, tattoos, fat, and young Thai girls. I was tired of laying in bed feeling sick and Troy was tired of sitting inside with me!

Luckily, Troy and Lucas found a nice little beachfront hotel in Kata beach, which is a 15 minute drive south. After two days of surfing, bodyboarding and eating normally, I am beginning to feel like myself again :)

We are still without laptop, but not for long. We leave to Singapore on the 22nd, and will buy the new Toshiba portege as its manufactured there.

I have lots to blog about so stay tuned for hospital stays, our friends coming to visit, surfing, and eating Russian food in Thailand--

xoxoxoxoxox

Thank you to all who emailed their concern :) Love you guys xoxo

Hi to Majella--we miss you!

The pic of the beach is from our hotel, one from sunset yesterday and the other from dinner--

2006-09-13T20:22:00.000+07:00

Many of you know, some may not, but I was just released from Phuket International Hospital. I was admitted in a panic, and eventually diagnosed with a parasite infection and Rotavirus. It has been an uncomfortable and at times scary week, which has now thankfully passed.

Thank you so much to those who called and expressed their concern and sympathy! :) It helps when you're a long way from home not feeling very well. Ruba, Sol and Lucas did meet up with us, but my jaunt in the hospital wrecked much of our plans together, unfortunately.

In addition to my health issues, our laptop crashed... :( I was told everything is gone on the hard drive....videos, pictures, everything....

This is why we haven't posted in a while. I am shopping for a replacement and should have one soon.

I am quite behind on the blogs and will use my recooperating time to catch up!
xoxoxoxoxo
xoxoxoxox

2006-08-27T16:10:00.000+07:00

We’ve finally discovered the art of travel on Asian overnight buses. The trick to weathering these fantastic abortions ( and avoiding complete mental collapse) is treating it like a collegiate night out: be well-rested, get showered, listen to some music, and partake in heavy alcohol/narcotics consumption, knowing full-well it’s going to get buck-wild. The biggest mistake is to arrive on the bus old, tall, or expecting to sleep. If you want to avoid a nervous break-down, follow these rules and allow the most outlandish circumstances to hypnotize you as they inevitably unfold.

Each bus-ride, its own grotesque saga, contains eerily consistent mania in time-release capsules, tailored for a person’s mental/physical limits. In just 14 hours, we were acquainted with meditation and a renewed faith in God as strange, Vaudevillian participants acted-out scenes difficult to endure, comprehend or describe. But for your reading pleasure, I’ll try…

When the Hanoi-bound bus arrived on time ( something we’d not experienced before), I was pleasantly surprised. We stored our bags easily in the luggage bin, and boarded without incident.

This would exhaust the easy quotient of our journey.

Chomping contentedly on Oreo’s, I took out my Ipod and tried to relax in a seat made for someone much smaller than me. Troy’s knees were sandwiched against mine and the seat in front of us. Apparently, the vehicle’s engineers did not consider passengers in the design, because when the seat reclined, you rested squarely on the chest/legs of those behind you.

Just another 14 hours to go.

Boarding after us, were 3, thirty-something British hippies, whose seemingly innocuous decision to pop Valium would later drive Troy to incredible ends. The blackened feet of the barefoot (yes, barefoot) trio trod all the way down the empty bus into the seats, of course, directly in front of us. While we rolled slowly through Hue’s streets, picking up remaining passengers, one bestowed blustering, slurred conversation on how he consumed 12 bottles of wine in 24 hours. Their infestation, loosely classified as hair, came obtrusively over and through the seat dividers ahead, a writhing morass, bringing with it the unwelcome odor of dirt and French Fries. As the intellectual repartee ensued, the messes would throw themselves about their reclined seats in a drugged glee that would prove most disappointing to all the commuters; especially to us and our tattered knees directly behind them. Hours down the road, as we inched away from our rested demeanor, these special people would lose their novelty, and Troy his better judgement.

Somewhere buried in my definition and understanding of “bus-travel”, lie several pre-conceived notions adopted after experiences on Western buses. One such notion assumes the purchase of a ticket secures an individual seat; quite a hapless fallacy if you’re traversing a long distance, on an overnight-bus in Asia.

Plainly at-capacity, we pulled into, yet another, hotel. Troy and I, confused, were mulling over the space needed to stow the waiting family of three, completely oblivious to the growing altercation just outside. If you remember, we learned how unsatisfactory seating arrangements are settled ( pushing and shoving ) on our Thailand-Cambodia bus ride. Wildly shouting profanities in Vietnamese and, surprisingly, English ( “BUU-SHEE”/ “FOOK YUU”) the mother boarded the bus armed with, unbeknownst to us, a handful of rocks. A few seconds later, after a violent tango in the aisle, I thought they’d reached an understanding, as the woman got off the bus. Unpredictably and decisively, she pivoted in a ninja-like maneuver, and began hurling the projectiles through the window and at the driver. I must admit, in a place so completely devoid of customer service….or just any service, I empathized rock-throwing was the next logical step.

Our first disaster under the belt and with a couple extra stones on board, we were on our way, hurtling off into the misty Vietnamese sunset. Save picking up another 4 people from the country-side who would lay in aisle, playing an aggressive game of territory demarcation with the intoxicated hippies and passing 2 dead bodies splayed across the road, the next few hours would pass without occasion.

We made our first stop just after midnight, but the heat and humidity were still staggering. My painfully full bladder forced me to negotiate a motley stew of large insects, urine and feces in what I can unequivocally label the worst toilet I have ever seen. ( see inset photo). Troy, biologically superior and somewhat removed from this particular situation, laughed as I ran horrified, stall to gut-wrenching stall, eventually squatting in darkness, near some sort of sludge-drain. Refusing to employ the stagnant tub of brown, viscous liquid ( with which you are to wash your hands?), I located my trusty Purell- which has been indispensable on our journey: thanks, mom-and splurged on half a bottle.

Upon reentering the bus, I gaped, momentarily frozen in shock. Somehow, I’d overlooked a major caveat of our safe-passage to Hanoi: our bus driver’s missing eye. We learned gratuitous use of the horn is a legal and effective substitute for sight while driving in Vietnam, especially at night on a challenging, mountainous road with a loaded passenger vehicle. I thoroughly enjoyed the luxury my back-of-the-bus seat offered: partial ignorance of the frequency and severity of near-misses, as we passed 18-wheelers, and pitched towards the ravines. Earlier, Murphy’s law would lead me to peruse the Lonely Planet forum where I would read about a Vietnamese bus crash, 2 weeks ago, on this very route. Not to worry, however, as it was clear T.M. brother’s travel agency took its passenger’s safety seriously, probably enforcing routine maintenance and state-of-the-art precautions with our $2 fares.

Never having left the bus, the drugged failures, one drooling with shades on, and both unconscious, had fully reclined their seats onto ours, preventing any ease of seating. Lacking further tolerance, I abruptly righted their seats with two swift kicks; which, with the Valium, they seemed to take in stride. As soon as we pulled away, the lights were killed, and the vicious game of see-saw seats commenced.

Our bodies met with their seat backs and hair in painful, repetitive collisions for two hours, when Troy, deciding to take part in the lunacy, began hashing his plot . Long ago, I’d pulled my knees up to cover my chest, as we jerked violently along, trying to recall the maximum force a breast implant can withstand before rupturing.

While passing a rogue street-lamp, I caught a glimpse of Troy, wild-eyed, holding a tube of super-glue. Upon further inquiry, he confessed a desperate attempt to super-glue the hippies hair to the seat cushion in the darkness; an understandable response to such stimuli.

Exhausted and preoccupied with the glue stratagem, it took me a few moments to notice the pairs of feet coming through, at face level, from behind us. I was considerately roused from a few seconds of shut-eye with a blackened toe-nail inches from my face. Following vigorous elbow jabs, the feet withdrew, but it was only minutes reprieve before the encroachment began again.

I can do this.

Just 4 hours to go.

Eventually, the devilish road leveled, and the ride quieted. There was a palpable, collective sigh with assumptions that the worst had passed. The intermittant air-conditioning snapped miraculously back in order, adding to our optimism and relief. Listening to Coldplay, I focused on relaxing my body, my mind. Maybe sleep was possible on this abomination.

The small, quiet man sitting to Troy's immediate left, however, decided against that concept. Ingesting something ( probably at our unsanitary stop) that enraged his innards, the small man became a spout of projectile vomit. Amazingly, rather than following usual protocol ( lunging for a window/opening/door) he turned in our direction and spewed into the aisle of the bus, on our laptop bag and Troy's calf. As you can imagine, this was the perfect night-cap and happy ending to a memorable sojourn.

In the words of someone else: "Long live TM Brothers tourism agency. I am forever grateful for each moment of my life not spent on this bus"

2006-08-21T22:28:00.000+07:00

**I had a hard time updating text. Bad internet...When we get to Hanoi tomorrow morning I will repost and publish**

Stay tuned my lovlies!
xoxoxoxoxo

DAD, mom has your b-day present and DVD from Cambodia....Call her :)

2006-08-14T19:55:00.000+07:00

Four hours due East of Saigon, on the southern coast, lies Mui Ne, a small fishing town dubbed one of Vietnam’s most natural beauties. To our excitement, our Lonely Planet guidebook described Mui Ne as pristine and undeveloped, boasting the best beaches in the country. Red and white sand dunes are also a famous draw. Naturally, we carved out a 3 day stop from our tight Vietnam schedule to visit.

For the first time on our trip, our trusty Lonely Planet guide wasn’t right! Compared to Nha Trang, Mui Ne may be smaller, but it isn’t necessarily undeveloped. Palatial resorts, built wall to wall, envelope miles of coastline. The sporadic chunks of land remaining are littered with cement pylons, bricks and steel girders; nascent mega-resorts. I wouldn’t suggest arriving sans hotel reservation or local transportation like us, as we spent two hours with our packs in the mid-day heat trying to find less expensive alternatives. Also, later that evening, we walked miles in search of snacks before realizing the total absence of vendors outside the resorts. Mui Ne is definitely not a pedestrian town.

Despite these issues, a relatively mediocre beach ( grey sand and brown water), and getting a flat bike tire 4 miles out of town, we still enjoyed our 3 days. Troy spent an entire afternoon of surfing 3-4 foot waves, which are said to swell from July to October. Natural rock formations and sand dunes are an indisputable spectacle, and sit just 30 minutes away from town. It is a convenient 4 hours from both Saigon and Nha Trang. Mui Ne is ideal if you think in terms of stop-over versus destination.

Just a few days ago, we arrived in Nha Trang: Mui Ne's big brother and the most visited beach in Vietnam. When you see the turquoise water, fine golden sand, rolling green hills and surrounding islands just offshore, you understand why. This place is gorgeous. We haven't delved into sightseeing yet, but I will post again soon after our snorkeling and countryside trips.

Hello/hug/kiss to Maki, Ruba and Majella :-)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ( a bit belated) to BUBS and DAD!! WE LOVE YOU-
xoxoxoxoxoxo

2006-08-10T19:15:00.000+07:00

What comes to mind when you think of Vietnam? War? Communism? Rice? Both of us had a hard time imagining present-day Ho Chi Minh City, but we definitely didn’t expect to see the clean streets, manicured gardens, booming commercial district, tiled sidewalks and modern buildings that now define the heart of this felled democratic city. This place classifies the contemporary metropolis, especially on the heels of our travels through Cambodia.

In terms of development and cleanliness, I thought it surpassed smog-choked, dusty Bangkok, the proclaimed gateway of South-East Asia. Actually, in strolling through a majority of Saigon’s streets, I guessed we could be in the hub of any major Western city. Well, that’s if you unleash 5 million swerving mopeds, dissolve any shred of vehicular protocol, and infuse a healthy dose of street vendors, cyclos ( a pedal driven carriage) and Chinese culture to the chaotic mix.

Saigon is an inviting blend of ancient eastern culture and modern western comfort that (in my opinion) ought to draw more tourism than we saw. The 100+ years of French influence crops up deliciously in the baguettes and crepes sold on most corners; not to mention the full-scale copy of Paris’ Notre Dame in the city center. Northface, Columbia, Adidas, Puma, and Nike all have manufacturing plants here, so the variety and cost of shopping is really unbelievable. Our immaculate hotel room had up-to-date furnishings, hot water, satellite TV, free breakfast and WIFI for $12 per night.

Exceptional, right?

It’s strange, but fortunate that this unique Asian gem has still avoided the devouring, fanny-pack-clad hordes that inevitably drain all quaint charm from destinations around the world. We enjoyed a leisurely walking-tour, squatted over delicious bowls of “pho” (Vietnamese soup with rice noodles, mint, and beef), explored ornate incense-filled Chinese-Buddhist temples, and listened to traditional folk music all without the nuisance of other tourists. Escaping tour groups and interacting with the locals has become increasingly difficult and our holy grail on this trip.

Also, in case you were wondering, gone are the days of conspicuous prostitution and drug use that tainted Saigon’s steamy neon alleys. Crime and theft have been significantly curtailed. The socialist regime extinguished all lawlessness that branded Saigon a notorious city in the Vietnam War. Clearly, they’ve not only cleansed and rebuilt HCMC, but effectively fostered economic growth under an authoritarian government, seemingly in the footsteps of its sizeable communist neighbor, China.

Both of us agree, Saigon should be on everyone’s must-see list in Asia. The culture. The comfort. The shopping!

For those of you who are not familiar with the Vietnamese currency, ( Troy and I had fun with this) it’s the Dong. Yes, I’m serious, see the photo. Additionally, there are 16,000 Dongs to 1 US dollar, so essentially, you could say we’re all Dong millionaires.

“How many dongs do you have on you?”
“Put your dong away”
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay with dong”
“That’s a lot of dong”

I’ll let it go now, but we squeezed every ounce out of it. 

For higher amounts, the Vietnamese deal in US dollars, ( like Cambodia) as 7-digit-dealings become unnecessarily complex. Even smaller purchases can be confusing, so Troy and I invested .75 cents in a mini-calculator for most of the leg-work. Thankfully, the vendors we’ve encountered have been honest, one returning the equivalent of $15 US dollars for two sodas and a pack of gum. ::sheepish grin::

While pausing at a stand selling Northface backpacks, we noticed a woman selling yellow liquid in various old alcohol bottles. On closer inspection, we noticed the bottles also included a variety of disagreeable matter: cobras, insects, pink blobs of “medicine”, grass-snakes, and scorpions, some with the scorpions picturesquely in the snake’s mouth. Of course Troy, who has become disturbingly eager to ingest any/everything, suggests we buy a bottle.

“It make you strong” chimes the old woman, wrinkled and donned with a thatch conical hat.

Well, honey, if she claims it improves health, I guess I can assuage every gut instinct that screams the contrary and give it a try…

I am happy to announce we are both still alive. Though I did not experience euphoria, hallucinations or any improvement in health, the pungent swig did impart a sticky bitter film in my mouth. Ah, this is “adventure” though, right? :)

Tomorrow we are off to the sand dunes of Mui Ne in our own private jeep tour for just $18 bucks US. What a deal. Troy wants to try his luck at sand-sledding. I will laugh at him and take photos of the fiasco. Maybe, if he doesn't perish, I'll try it too...

We'll try to upload some more pics tomorrow evening
www.fotki.com/visceraltext
XOXOOXOXOX

2006-08-08T21:20:00.000+07:00

SPECIAL THANKS TO:
Barbara and The Peschls
Debbie and Wayne Davis
Murad Ghaith
Tony Lawrence
Kim and Jim Steel
The Olivias
Robert Steel
Don Rillera
Paul Gropelli
The Figaris
Doreen and Lance Johnson
Teeyna
Thais Sales

You all have helped us make a very real difference to people who needed it most. We fed 225 people, installed 5 water pumps, gave 1/2 a month's salary to 2 teachers, 1 admin, 1 principal, and 1 village chief, gave uniforms and school supplies for 100 children. THANK YOU!

We are so lucky to have met Heang, our driver, without whom none of this would be possible. Heang got up early, trodded around in the heat, translated, navigated, negotiated! There wasn't anything he couldn't do :) He was a trustworthy friend above all else, and we will miss him a lot. We both know it won't be too long before we return to Siem Reap.

We also made 3 other friends, Sonlin, Lyda and Sarun, who work at the "Why Not" cafe in Siem Reap. They made us feel welcome and special while educating us on the traditional cultures and Khmer language. Hope you like your gifts guys, please keep in touch!

Not to forget my list for 1st timers, here is the Cambodia edition:
1. There is a national obsession with kareoke. The loudest, fastest songs will be played on long bus rides, in taxis, and waiting rooms in government offices.
2. The Cambodian sales presentation for services or goods is repeating the phrase: "you buy"
3. Khmer children in the city speak an average of 3 languages
4. Amok is the most common dish; curry and coconut milk and delicious
5. You will have a major bug experience. Crickets, Roaches, Spiders and Beetles all start at 4 inches and up.
6. Don't worry, its normal to have kitchen appliances, livestock or a 5 person family all on one moped
7. If you want a career in sales ( take it from me, DON'T go there; but if you insist) watch the expert Khmer rainmaking children at Angkor Wat. We had a child who couldn't be stumped on naming any country's capital, though I did manage to embarrass myself :-P
8. Do not make eye contact with a monkey, or get its attention for a picture. Its low-grunting ( either sexual or aggressive; I didn't wait to find out) is followed by determined attempts to mount your head and shoulders
9. Bring candy/pens/coins to the children instead of money
10. If you give to children, they will either smile, kiss you, bless you or a delicious combo of all three
11. Women wear Saudi Arabia-esque clothing around their head and faces while outside. This is not religious, but cosmetic. Cambodians love white skin and will walk around draped from head to toe in 95+ degree heat to keep it that way.
12. Raw meat stands have no cooling
13. Gas is sold in old soda and Jack daniels bottles, and is 4 dollars a gallon

We love you all, and to all a good night!!!
Tomorrow more from Mui Ne, Vietnam
xoxoxoxoxo

2006-08-05T17:38:00.000+07:00

I am happy to report Troy and I are both all right. There was an unfortunate coincidence of our bus to Phnom Penh being late, not arriving at our hotel, and our internet passwords being stolen in an internet café. This created a very alarming, hypothetical scenario for my mom, one I hope never happens, and thankfully, she acted quickly to ensure our safety and whereabouts. THANKS MOM! We love you and Doreen, Robin, Father Bernie, Lauren and all the people at World Access. Its nice to know we have a large, fast-acting village who can help us if we ever need. xoxoxoxo

Now to more entertaining matters…..

In giving sufficient light to our efforts in Phnom Kraom, I’ve neglected other personal adventures/experiences of Cambodia, stories that must be told! Let’s start with the bus trip from Bangkok to Siem Reap. I want to preface this by telling everyone that the Cambodia we experienced for the past month is natural, beautiful, full of incredible people and both Troy and I's favorite place on our trip so far. The border town I describe on this entry, Poipet, is one of the dirtiest cities I have ever seen, but by no means representative of the rest of the country. Please remember YOU should consider visiting this amazing place. It has changed our life, forever. Our new friends Heang, Sonlin, Lyda, and Sarun will welcome all of you warmly! More on them in the next post...

Shortly after realizing we were on the same double-decker as those who purchased their tickets on Kao San Road ( buses to Siem Reap from KSR agencies are notoriously, without exception, riddled with unlicensed kamikaze-drivers, scamming employees, haggard jalopies substituting for buses and 12 + of acute discomfort; how else can they operate on such minimal fares), we kicked ourselves for paying 3 times more from a “reputable” agency in Hua Lampong station and getting the same, damn thing.

I was highly suspicious when a 1960s, fuchsia, double-decker bus arrived 40 minutes late, at full capacity, save two rear-row seats under a tube leaking caustic, orange liquid. To add token insult to injury, the entire sweaty bus smelled of dirty skin and onions. After stuffing our back-packs on, I stupidly decided a verbal protest to the chemical-shower would yield satisfactory results, or at least, seats on a later, more tolerable bus. Instead, the “usher” shouted to sit down, and I lost my bargaining ability as the bus pulled away with us in the aisle.

The polite man obviously thought we didn’t understand, so he physically pushed us back into the seats. I was momentarily startled by this brazen move, and Troy, forever the engineer ( thank God never the instigator), decided to tear part of the curtain from the window( patterned like the carpet in old-casinos) and hang it between the two broken ceiling tiles to catch most of the drip.

Fortunately, a few Thais’ destination was an hour out of Bangkok and after they left, we moved. I asked the girl next to me where she got her ticket. Kao San, of course. Fabulous. For the next five hours, our trip would proceed, unexpectedly, as planned, save the pungent aromas of bodily odor wafting from the tattered seats and curtains.

Then we got to the Thai/Cambodia border.

This was an interesting crash course in 3rd world hustle and bustle; heavy emphasis on hustle. Our lungs gave in, inevitably needing air, to the sickly-sweet stench of rotting garbage and fish in every breath we took. There were seemingly endless rows of wooden stands erected along the littered dirt road, selling strange fly-covered meats, gasoline in old soda bottles, sacks of rice and dried squid. Underneath a blanket of fine, red dust, we saw hordes of aggressive beggars, barefoot 6 year olds running to offer shade umbrellas while reaching into pockets, 10 year olds with pick-axes working construction, teenagers sniffing glue, and touts a-plenty claiming we needed to pay them for various scams like SARS examination certificates, and “expediting” our crossing.

All of this activity festered around us while we hauled our 40lb back packs in the stifling, noon-day heat and humidity. For the first time on this trip, we were completely out of our element. Thankfully, we’d done our research, and knew to move quickly through this place. We didn’t stop walking or fall for any of the scams. Unfortunately, many others with us fell hard and fast; poor bastards. What’s that saying about not needing to outrun the bear, just the other campers? :-P

Because we knew the KSR bus scam tactics included a 7 hour journey ( advertised as a mini-bus from Poipet to Siem Reap) in a flatbed truck stuffed with a dozen people, once we crossed into Cambodia, we began to look for a private taxi. We did not want to experience the journey with 12 other people and their luggage, catapulting out of 3ft deep potholes. And did I mention it’s the rainy season? Many of those who know me can take a moment to enjoy picturing me on a trip like that...hehehe

Ok, back to the story. Amazingly, the touts with the bus company did not let us go so easily. First yelling, then chasing, they eventually radioed their counterparts who intercepted us before we could hail a taxi. Apparently, we had bounties on our heads; they don’t receive if we are not delivered. We shook them by pretending we didn’t speak English and asked a helpful Cambodian by-stander to hail us a cab.

I know we got screwed on the taxi fare, at $45US, but we just wanted to get the hell out of there. It wasn’t until we drove away ( after picking up another sweet Cambodian guy and his 7 yr old daughter) that we realized our driver speaks no English. Thankfully, this guy was a great find and other than a 1 hour detour ( where several mechanics dismantled the entire dash while we sat, clueless, in the backseat) at a garage in Sisophon, a pile-up at a collapsed bridge, and animated charades for “bathroom”, we had an un-eventful, air-conditioned journey to Siem Reap.

The first picture is in a pagoda in the Royal Palace. It is covered in real gold, and looks so much more amazing than my photo shows. The second shows a few vendors outside the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh. They are very sweet women who obliged to pose for a quick photo. The third picture is the Royal Palace, where we actually saw the Royal Family leave in a motorcade of black Mercedes. The last is of Troy eating a large locust at the bus stop. He took the advice of the Cambodian insect vendor, and tore the wings and legs off, as otherwise, “they don’t taste so good.” If you zoom in, you can actually see the things eyeballs on his tongue. Apparently, it tastes like salty chicken.

Tomorrow we leave to HCMC, or as it was infamously known, Saigon.
We love you all!!

PS. The newest pump pictures were uploaded to fotki in the 3rd Phnom Kraom album
www.fotki.com/visceraltext

2006-07-30T14:56:00.000+07:00

Allow yourself to drift backwards in time. Rewind just long enough so you can see yourself on December 25th, as a youngster, hovering above yearly Christmas loot with a focus that should ignite the wrapping paper. You can remember it, can't you? Tearing through the piled masses of "nerdy" clothes, pencils and books to get to the requisite merchandise you'd lusted over the past year. Oh, how the relatives lavished us with so much, too much.

It wasn't long before the emotion and effort spent in selection, wrapping, and delivery were steamrolled into oblivion by our up-turned noses, as we were inevitably dissatisfied with what was forgotten; the entire concept of the ritual eclipsed by our ingratitude.

Sounds familiar, right? Maybe this isn't everyone's experience, but we, my brother and I, were experts in acting out this masochistic manifesto each year. If you see our photo album, you can better understand the pissed-off glares branded into the face of father, mother and children...Ah, holidays in the States! :)

Due to your generous donations, holiday-giving-day came today for 100 children aged 6-10 in the Phnam Kraom primary school. Only our presents to them were not state-of-the-art toys, but the items you or I might have resented a few Christmases ago.

Fifty boys and fifty girls each received a baggie complete with: 1 white shirt, 1 blue skirt/pair pants, 3 writing books, 1 pencil, 1 pen and 1 sharpener. The boisterous crew lined up outside their classrooms, on a Sunday mind you, 1 hour before we even arrived; the notion of new uniforms, books and writing implements stirring a joy I have seldom seen in children before.

WOW! If only I could have channeled their chattering and squeals of excitement through to you. Everyone should see and feel this once during their lives.

Despite those incredible, delightful moments of smiles, wais ( bowing) and laughing, I couldn't help but feel twinges of guilt. These are implements of education. All of the school's 744 students should have these things already! While our criticized educational system can update their classrooms with projectors and desktop computers, these children are expected to learn without electricity, paper or pens.

For the entire 3 hour delivery process, incredibly, we listened to nothing but gratitude from Principal, Administrator and students; Clearly, these children ( and Cambodians as a whole) are disinterested in the hardship and disadvantages they've suffered. No negative energy will cloud their goals for the future. It is a lifestyle and attitude that has changed who I am, and how I view the world. I hope it can change yours too!

Water Pump update: The first two we commissioned have been completed! Great news. The second two both had location changes due to the difficulty of drilling and our time constraints. Both have been moved to areas of need. One familiy even uprooted their entire vegetable garden to make room for a pump! The second pumps will be finished on August 2nd. We will visit, take pictures and say good bye to our friends in Phnam Kraom at that time.

Check fotki for pics of our 3rd visit to Phnam Kraom.
www.fotki.com/visceraltext

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
This would not be possible without the kindness of all of you!!

2006-07-24T17:38:00.000+07:00

**STILL ACCEPTING LAST MINUTE DONATIONS FOR PHNAM KRAOM ( not KAOWL as I spelled before :) Phoenetic translations can be challenging!**
( L-R, Heang, Chris, Karolina, Village Chief, Troy and me)

As if the overwhelming and compassionate replies of our friends and family were not enough, we happened upon an Austrian couple, Christian and Karolina, at a food stand (one a primary school teacher and the other a social worker-both living in Innsbruck) who offered to follow us to the village of Phnam Kraom and assist with our project.

We were at our usual foodstand, eating our usual yellow noodle soup with beef ( a delicious concoction with spices, leek, onion for .75 cents) when we saw a young couple stop beside us, nervously discussing the safety of the food being prepared.

Three weeks into Cambodia, and another 2 1/2 months into Asia, we not only feel comfortable eating street food, but we LOVE eating street food. I was deathly afraid at the onset of our Asian adventure, imagining every stand was harboring ecoli. What a ridiculous misconception! I think street food is a very large part of the cultural experience here, as you will never see a Cambodian eating at a sit down restaurant. You will also get to experience the real Khmer cuisine, not the doctored versions served in restaurants for Westerners. The two biggest rules are: 1. eating only what is freshly prepared in front of you ( never sitting out) and 2. never drinking the water or using the ice as many times it is not handled well.

As we were the only Westerners eating at this stand, we let them know the food is not only "safe" but delicious! After a few bites of their Khmer fried rice, and noodle soup, they agreed, and we ended up in a conversation about our fledgling water pump "project".

After dinner, we had two more volunteers enlisted who pledged to assist in delivering the 600 lbs of rice, 600 packs of noodles, 90 bottles of soy sauce, and 30 bottles of fish sauce. They also wanted to visit the school in Phnam Kraom, as they brought a large box of pencils, pens and sharpeners to donate.

We set off with our trusted navigator/translator/friend Heang, and were able to stuff the noodles, sauces, bags and candy on the first run. When we arrived, we were pleased to see a group of villagers and 30 children waiting for us. Everyone was working together to unload, divide and distribute the food while Heang hurried back to the city for the six 50 kilo bags of rice ( about 660 lbs in total). If you can't picture it, this is a lot of food, and took only an hour to measure out and bag with all the help. Amazing :)

The two pumps we commissioned back on July 18th, were not yet finished. For one of the pumps, the depth of the drilling was at about 30m, but needs to be closer to 50m to reach the clean, fresh ground water. The other was closer to being finished, but took longer than expected because of the rocky ground to penetrate, with the final concrete being poured as we arrived. ( see pics on fotki) Two new pumps ( four total) were started, and will be finished for our last trip on August 30th.

After delivering the food and checking the status on the pumps, we walked towards the entrance of the city, to the local grade school. At first glance, there were no adults in sight, just a hundred kids riding bikes, sitting in the shade, throwing pebbles at each other in the courtyard. We wandered through the crowd of giggling, pointing children, and found a guy who looked almost like a child himself! He couldn't have been more than 19 or 20, and he was in charge of a 70-person classroom. We chatted with him ( with Heang as translator) and learned that the classes are crowded, his salary is $30 per month, and the children need to buy their own pencils/books and uniforms to attend. The school is not free. In addition to their supplies, the children need to bring 100-500 riel per day to pay for the teachers' salary, curriculum, and building upkeep. We decided to give $20 to this teacher, who was so polite and thankful to have foreign visitors.

We gave out our candy/pencils/pens to a very excited group, who were laughing, raising their hands and shouting. ( see pics)

Because school uniforms are relatively expensive ( $2-3 per uniform) we have decided to use a portion of the donations to clothe the students of Phnam Kraom. We have 6 days until our final trip back to the village, and will use this time to order uniforms for these children.

It is not to late to give :) And thank you again for all of your assistance! More pictures have been posted. Keep checking back for more.
Love you,
www.fotki.com/visceraltext

xoxoxoxoxox
xoxoxoxox

2006-07-19T18:09:00.000+07:00

ACCEPTING DONATIONS FOR PHNAM KAOWL
****HUGS AND KISSES FOR ALL OF YOU****
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU FOR YOUR RESPONSE SO FAR!!!

We will have new pictures and updates from the village on the 25th of July.
Please check www.fotki.com/visceraltext for newly uploded pics of this village.

This is Phnam Kaowl or "bottom of the mountain". It's not just a clever name, it does actually sit at the bottom of a mountain :) as you can see from the first picture. This large commune sits about 10 minutes away from the great Tonle Sap Lake in Northwest Cambodia.

Here are some questions about this village and our project:

*How many people are in this village?
500 families or 3000 people

*Why did you decide to support this village?
They are in dire need. The rocky ground of the area makes it more expensive to put water pumps in, so they have only 2 for the entire 3000 person community. They also need uniforms and food.

*What is the commune chief's name?
Mr. Sang

*How many water pumps do they need?
As many as we can deliver. To start, I have commissioned two to be built immediately, both are in areas badly in need. Upon their completion ( July 23rd), we will hopefully have a better idea of who else can give a pump and issue building orders at that time.

* How much is the total cost of a water pump?
It costs from $140-170. It ranges on difficulty and depth of drilling ( soft/hard ground) and the construction of the pump. One of the two I have commissioned needs to have a 2 foot brick walls to protect the ground water from contaminated ponds nearby.

*What is the process to install a water pump?
It takes about 2 trips. The first trip is to scout the location for the pump, talk to the locals/chief about their preferences and get pertinent information regarding the pump. The second trip is to bring the sign and take pictures of happy villagers using the pump :)

*What other costs are involved with delivering food and installing water pumps?
Apart from the costs of the items themselves, we have the cost of the car/driver, Heang. He has been invaluable to us translating, carrying/delivering goods, and negotiating the lowest prices with local vendors. It would not be possible without him! We use the lower cost tuk-tuk ( or motorbike with a trailer) for $15 per day when we scout an area, get information, and assemble lists of the needy. We use the car for $30 per day when we are transporting the signs for the pump and delivering the 300-325lb load.

*What type of food do you bring and how much does that cost?
We bring the staples. The cheapest and most nutritious foods for them are rice and noodles. A 50 kilo ( 100lb) sack of rice is $14.00. A 50 pack carton of noodles is $5. We are making dispersements of 20 lb bags of rice and 20 packs of noodles per family. With these "bags" we can feed them for about 7-10 days, all for around $4.80 per family.

*What if I can't afford a whole pump?
That's ok! We can use the smaller donations all together for a pump ( with the sign friends and family of Daija and Troy) or use them for clothing and food. These are items that are badly needed as well. Every dollar counts.

*We have poor here. Why should I help these people so far away?
I have yet to visit an American city that does not have a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen. We also have institutions like welfare, unemployment and free healthcare. In a financial sense, the people here have nothing, save the small palm frond houses they build themselves. Life here is unimaginably hard. They are an industrious people, though they struggle daily to have food to eat, and keep themselves clean, clothed and healthy. I think that is a right of any human being, isn't it? While we are here, doing this with our own hands, we can make a lifetime difference to these people, but we can't do it without you!

*How do I get you the donation?
You can use paypal to my email address, visceraltext@yahoo.com, and include your name and address, and message for sign ( if you are donating a pump). You can also donate cash to my Mom, or mail a check to 7830 NW 46th Street, Lauderhill, Fl 33351. If you send a check, be sure to send an email right away with the amount of your donation and your personal information, so we don't wait to help.

*How long will you be there to work with these people?
Troy and I have to get to Vietnam around the first week of August. We have roughly two weeks from now, and can possibly extend the trip a few days to accomodate as much as possible.

*What if I have more questions for you?
Drop me an email! I check it daily, and will answer you as quick as I can

THANK YOU ALL!!!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoox

2006-07-15T23:46:00.000+07:00

*Blogger is having tech difficulties loading my pics. Please check our site www.fotki.com/visceraltext*

What can you buy for $100?

A tank of gas in a big SUV. Starbucks coffee for a month. A pair of designer jeans.

Those would have been my first guesses a few months ago. Today I learned that $100 can buy/package/deliver enough food to feed 75 people for over a week. It can also provide hundreds of people with an endless water supply.

Thirty minutes north of the city of Siem Reap, lies Angkor Krawl which, literally translated, means “outside city”. With the help of Heang, our fantastic driver, we ventured outside the confines of Siem Reap to find people who needed help the most.

Heang confirmed what we had already read about the situation in Siem Reap; it is wrought with corruption, top to bottom. Hospitals, government, even charities. Like many other countries in the world, it is almost impossible to have an honest administration; let alone in an undeveloped nation. When poverty and hunger fuel desperation, the omnipotent dollar supersedes honesty, justice, and ethics.

You see row upon row of glittering, 5-star resorts lining the main road in the city; a shamefully gaudy contrast to the ruins most people live in. Upon further investigation you can learn they are owned and operated, in an obvious conflict of interest, by the government. The skyrocketing admission fees for the Angkor Temples are also funneled to the government; though virtually none of it goes towards temple upkeep. When you see the hazardous condition (or lack thereof) of the roads, the absence of police, catastrophic public hospitals, and extreme poverty of the people across the country, one can only wonder: Where the heck is the money going?

Heang said its common knowledge in Cambodia that the whole of the government pad their salaries at the cost of the people. He said : “ They bleed us dry” For you, reading my blog in a developed country, that is a comparatively emotionless statement, but for me, passing by these penniless, hungry people, it has quite a different weight.

Imagine a mother with her 6 children, starving because her husband was maimed by a landmine, and she cannot provide for them.

Imagine infants so sick with TB, Dengue Fever, Hepatitis and Japanese Encephalitis that they are unconscious, in shock, but the hospitals are so overcrowded they cannot be seen.

Imagine a past where doctors, who were better than those in China, Vietnam, and Singapore, were murdered alongside the other educated, by their government.

Imagine poverty so raw babies are “used” in a begging business with Westerners and many become disabled in the process.

The things we have seen in the past week of being in Cambodia have changed us; would change anyone.

By what flip of the coin could you or I have been here, in this life with these back-breaking hardships? Such a cliché isn’t it? But being here, seeing first-hand those who desperately need help, hurts. It hurts more deeply than anything I have seen before.

After the knots in your throat ease, the sinking in your stomach lifts, even after a fitful collapse in tears, you realize, you have to help. If its food, blood, money, candy, clothing, or just a hug and a smile, you have to do something. You have to give something.

This morning, I had no idea what we would do. Troy and I agreed our plan of action was to ask Heang about villages outside the city; these were the poorest areas. We called him at 9am, and he picked us up in his car. After a 30 minute drive north of the temples, we turned left onto a very narrow dirt road, which led into a small commune of 650 people.

The chief, Mr. Lian, and his wife were extremely polite, though somewhat surprised at our presence. Heang said they do not see many foreigners, ( hence their pointing and giggling) and were unsure of our intent. After returning to the city for 150 kilos ( 300 lbs) of rice, 250 packages of noodles, 6 lb bags of candy and 100 plastic bags, we headed back to Angkor Krawl and chief Lian. Wisely, he recommended 15 families who were the most needy ( those disabled or with many children) and went to rally them on his bike.

As he gathered the people, who started arriving by foot, bike, and even buffalo-drawn cart, we divided the 300 lbs of rice into 20lb rations with 16 bags of noodles. ( see pic on fotki site)

It was truly amazing to watch them, their gratitude. Waiting calmly until everyone was there, the villagers copped a squat on the thin planks leading into the chief's hut. Soon after, we started handed them the bags, one by one. ( see pic)

They were retreating to their bikes and other modes of transport, some just balancing the heavy sacks on their head, when the chief approached Heang. He explained that the village needed a water pump, as theirs had broken. It is monsoon season now, and easy to collect rainwater, but soon it would be dry.

There are no 20 minute showers, no flushing toilets, no running faucets out here. Water pumps are manual devices to pull ground water for drinking, cooking, bathing. For a moment, I imagined pumping water in a large container then hauling it somehow, on my person, a kilometer down the road in the 95 degree heat. Then I pondered life without any water at all...

Heang, Troy and the chief discussed where the best place for the new pump would be, (see pic on fotki site) They decided unanimously next to the rice pond for the run-off. We will return in 48 hours, hopefully, to the people utilizing the pump; all for $140 US! Heang said as soon as the concrete is dry, they will be able to pump water. This is very, very good news for the village:)

Driving around the outskirts of Siem Reap, you see that many people cannot afford the basic elements of living: food, water, clothing, shelter.

We will be here until the first week of August, bringing water pumps, food and clothing to the most needy villages; those people outside Siem Reap who are the most desperate.

If you want to give a donation ( no amount is too small; as you read what we can do with just $100US) you can contact me by email or send via paypal to this address: visceraltext@yahoo.com, or contact my mother steeltrain1@yahoo.com as she can also accept cash donations.

Please include your name and your address. I am compiling a DVD of the children and villagers here, and will send to you as thanks for helping the people here in Cambodia. There are also signs erected at the site of the water pump, in English and Khmer, telling all of the local people who assisted them. If you would like to donate a pump on your own, please let us know, so we can have the sign in your name ( and obviously get a pic of the site and sign) :-)

We love you all,
xoxoxoxoxoxox

2006-07-11T15:55:00.000+07:00

Happy children. They’re the first thing I noticed crossing the border into Siem Reap, Cambodia.

The ratio is really amazing. Of course I am not aware of any official statistics, but I would assume there is 1 adult for every 6 children. At least it appears that way in the Northwest part of Cambodia, where we are now. It feels like a real-life Neverland. Imagine it common for a few ten year olds to supervise a small herd of toddlers, feeding, carrying, bathing.

And these are some beautiful children.

You see them everywhere. Many are without parents or family. Some are disfigured from landmines. All of them are impossibly poor. They are sitting on corners laughing, riding double on bikes, climbing trees, walking hand-in-hand through a market, playing naked in a puddle. If they see you (this is something I was not expecting) their golden, dusty faces swirl into brilliant, genuine smiles as they wave “hello, sok sabai” or “hello, how are you?”. And for a single second, without any pretense, or want for something back, they give their joy to you. It is just THE best feeling, and I don’t think I can ever tire of it.

If you come to Cambodia, and experience this, you will understand it has nothing to do with money, or getting anything in return. I became a bit jaded to strangers’ intent in Thailand for this reason. Not to say they don’t have lots of kid-vendors (groomed by the parents to be pushy) who want your money, they do, but there are just as many you pass who want nothing more than a shared smile…

We passed two boys, not more than 6 years old, who were singing a Khmer song to each other, as we exited a temple. They didn’t run towards us, pull at our clothes, or ask us for anything. They only interrupted their song for a smile and a friendly wave. Luckily, we had a package of biscuits which we gave to them; the most gracious little creatures you can fathom. They both grinned sincerely and bowed their heads while taking the package, in the traditional “wai” (hands pressed together in front of you while nodding down) and then went about their happy business.

This aspect of the Cambodian culture is the number one reason I suggest everyone visit. Obviously there are many other attractions like jungle treks, rafting, motorcycle trips and the Angkor Complex, but where else can you be surrounded, night and day, by polite, gracious, delicious little toddlers who can be so blissfully happy without any luxury at all? It is an uplifting place everyone should experience once in their lifetime. If you know even a shred about the Cambodian history and hardships, their demeanor and attitude is nothing short of inspirational.

As many of you know, I plan to give to a local orphanage in Siem Reap. There are so many who need. We will get more information as soon as we can, but we will probably be buying uniforms, shoes, pens/pencils/books, and back-packs for these children to attend school. I will post more and how you can help, soon…

Until then, be content with everything and everyone you have in your life. Happiness is, really, entirely up to you-

xoxoxoxooxox

There are a few new pictures on the fotki site :) Enjoy! http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/

2006-07-06T22:19:00.000+07:00

I never thought I'd say this, but raw sewage definitely can spice things up. If your life ever becomes a shade too boring, consider it. Sure it harbors disease and is sometimes entertaining, but suspenseful too, you say?

Well, if there's a chance it's suddenly landing in your mouth, then, yes, it is.

No, weirdos, we're not talking Bangkok editions of Cleveland steamers or dirty-sanchezes here. ( Mom, Dad, and Poppa please do not google these terms. You will be excommunicated and crash your laptops). We're talking about transit on the cess canal of a city in excess of 10 million, ok? Big difference... I think. :-/

We happened on this delicious little stretch of "people-moving" in our mad dash to get to Soi Khao San for our Royal Nepal Air tickets. At 5:45 with the cars, taxis and buses all gridlocked around Siam Center, we had no choice but to find alternative transportation. At the advice of our driver, we jumped out of our new air-con taxi, into the storm and ran towards the river. As we soon discovered, alternative, this was.

Picture yourself on a class 3 river rapid ( I'm not kidding), only the grey water, violently thrashing up against the stained concrete recesses, bubbling, churning and spewing forth, barely contained in the rotting depths of the canal is NOT just water, but the excrement of everyone around you!

Yeeessss, imagine, if you dare, the long, wooden dinghy alarmingly full with business men, school children, and every token demographic ( including us as the smelly back-packers), skidding left, then right at 45 degree angles over the turbulent fecal chop, like a trans-am fish-tailing in the rain. Only, the parasitic worm of a boat, laden with stoney-eyed passengers ( truly intriguing considering the stench and likelihood of plague splashing into their faces) never calms down.

The boat continues to lurch and tilt uncontrollably in the littered passage until a deafening crack and gutteral grinding ensues,( the calming evidence of a well-maintained vessel ), reeling it backwards either 1. towards a strip of gangrene planks, to which you have no ladder or docking--I swear on my life, you have to LEAP IN THE RAIN or 2. away from the onslaught of other unwieldy craft. I try to ignore some holes, oozing grog from below, but my eyes seem to wander back nervously to the fissures admitting liquid that can, undoubtedly, kill us all.

Chugging along abominably through Thailand's capital, this waterway is a crude reminder that although it does have the pomp and glitter of a major metropolis, parts of the city can still be a bit from developed, in the Western definition. I fathomed a certain wakeboader realizing something's horribly amiss with his skiing tour in downtown BKK...

When the downpour becomes so thick and fat it pelts the water below, making it seem to rain from beneath, you really appreciate the thin tarps along port and starboard, mercifully bearing the toxic brunt of the spray. Unfortunately, I was so frozen in amazement as the gruesome voyage unfolded, that I didn't exploit the crumpled blue plastic at my feet until after some spray, and it was enough, moistened my eyes. Snapping my mind away from the cultures now in my eyes and the encroaching brownish sludge, I held that tarp up as high as I could, mentally splitting hairs on whether to breath through my nose or open my mouth. God was merciful on me, however, because prior to this .20 cent fare, he did allow me my jabs at the Red Cross for Typhoid and Japanese Encephalitis. :)

Troy, much smarter than me, is not on the side, but is sitting a few rows back, centered in the middle, with his shades on. Make-shift goggles, my little engineer. ( Mine, as you may remember, are probably on some deserving fish) Anyway, I can see that his eyes are narrowed, his mouth is puckered tightly closed, and he's intentedly bobbing his head to get a better view of the next "pier" through the slit above the plastic. He learned quickly( survival of the fittest-Asian public transportation can make anyone primal) that the "stops" for this are similar to the rest of BKKs public transportation: They don't stop. They slow down. You move quick, or don't get off.

You wait for the captain to bludgeon the engine once more, move quickly to up to the side, then lower the tarp and leap out all in one swift motion. If you wait for chivalry, you've missed your stop. As you can probably imagine, we were by no means "naturals" at this feat. I watched several others at the stops before ours, but it didn't help at all. Troy benefited from his long legs, landing the jump sufficiently. I, however, grated my shins along a few planks, soaking my pants finally pulling myself up with a new mud-like substance on my bare hands. One bottle of Purel later, I was feeling human again.

So, as I said, if you are needing some adventure in your life, pay 10baht and ride the Bangkok river ferry in the pouring rain. Sorry I have no pics of this spectacle, I couldn't rationalize the expense of fecal matter on the lens of my new $400 Nikon...

Our internet connection here is not good, so I can't upload anything new. Soon, I promise.
xoxooxoxox

2006-07-05T00:10:00.000+07:00

This is not a photoshop manifestion, folks. What you see before you are 4 inch hissing cockroaches ( with some limes, chilies, nuts ) prepared for sale by a street vendor in Bangkok. You hear about this sort of nonsense back home, as a sort of urban-travel legend. Alas, it is REAL! I offer the alarming evidence: this photo.

The first day we walked past this vendor, I didn't have my camera, and she had the same set-up ( with large roaches and live crickets) and I cursed myself endlessly for having forgotten it. It is not everyday you see this sort of thing on the street. In any case, I had my camera with me today, and had to take a picture. I tried to take a photo of the weaved basket heavy with live, springing crickets, but the heavy foot-traffic prevented this...

I did want to really show scale of these insects ( a la the new King Kong movie), but my stomach revolted entirely at 3 feet, so putting my head, hand, belonging next to these was not an option...

Anyway...more to come soon my lovelies! I felt guilty about not blogging for so long :)

PS. Hi Sabrina!! Lotsa lov to you, Derek and Kaia!!! ( sp?)xoxox

2006-06-26T13:24:00.000+07:00

Funny Signs Abroad:

I assume it’s the lack of native English speakers that makes Thais have the funniest English signs of any country we have visited so far. There are a few from Greece and Italy thrown in for good measure. I took these all myself during our trip so far. Please pardon my captions, I couldn’t help myself :) Enjoy!

“We prefer it thrown about the room, Thank You” --

When just surfing doesn't cut it anymore --

My kind of place --

I think I'll just take the bus--

At least they're honest!---

What did you say this is made from, again? --

Are you sure this is real? --

2006-06-23T01:38:00.000+07:00

It was sunny for the first time we have been in Phuket! We had none of the torrential downpour or gail force winds of our first week, only mild breeze and lots of sunshine. It was really fabulous as we were beginning to feel locked in our room. In the downpour yesterday, we plodded around in our rainjackets and flip flops, like wet cats, determined to leave the room we were holed up in for 36 hours... I thought I couldn't eat room service for the 10th time in a row, watching the same shite on BBC ( the only channel in English) Alas, boredom is a far better choice while its flooding in a city combining its water drainage with the sewer system; we learned this 30 minutes into wading around ankle-deep in our sandals :-O

The picture is of sunset here in Patong Beach. As you can see there are small waves, which I have heard get better into July and August. Troy rented a boogeyboard and spent 3 hours catching the frequent waves to shore. He even used it as a skim board, which got strange looks from local Thais...I don't think they do that here :)

The other picture is the far end of the strip ( red light district) in Patong. I took a picture at only 730pm, which is why it is so empty. After about 830-900pm, this relatively small strip of bars restaurants and strip clubs turns into a crowded mix of middle-aged Western couples, Vietnam Vet-ish looking guys with tattoos and skullets ( skullet = mullet minus hair on top) sporting trim pretty Thai girls, scantily-clad and heavily face-painted lady-boys, and street vendors selling cigarettes and cheesy trinkets. Every half hour or so you'll hear blaring music ( seemingly like snake-charmer music) from trucks with megaphones advertising their Muay Thai Boxing. Oftentimes the actual fighters are riding around with their gloves in the back of the truck!

As you can imagine, this place is way too much. This is where unsavory people engage in unsavory behavior, but its like a traffic wreck....So gross, but you just end up staring.

A few times during our stroll, I wandered off from Troy( in my quest for new sunglasses) only to find a barage of young, Thai girls and lady-boys literally swarm him cooing "Hey! Where you go, sexy?" "Where you from, honey?"I guess he's had good practice fending off suit, massage, and tuk-tuk salesmen, ( who physically grab you every 2 seconds ) so he grabbed my hand and politely held it up for the girls to see, and they finally retreated. JACKALS! You can clearly see how badly they want to "work" someone who is actually attractive, compared the overweight, tattooed, balding fat men they pretend to fancy.

Walking around in Patong, you realize they need money and therefore, here, everything is for sale...

Hosts waving menus for their restaurants, bar girls ushering you into their pub, well-dressed young men shaking your hand to pull you to their tailor shop " special price for you, boss", street vendors pushing their carts of peanuts, eggs, and fruit, and I even saw 2 men selling vagina. Yes, you heard right! There, shining in the neon lights, was the laminated, computer-printed menu (listing like coffee or sandwiches) of vagina, complete with close-up pictures and descriptions written in English and Thai!!

Upon discussing our awe of this area, (and the conspicuous prostitution), I noticed a straight-laced looking fellow, probably 60-65 years old, sitting at a bar flirting with a scantily-clad young woman. He had khaki pants, a collared polo shirt and tassled leather shoes. He wasn't the typical, greasy, tattoed, sex-offender-looking type...rather your accountant on holiday. On closer inspection, it was painfully clear to Troy and I that this young Thai girl was "A MAAAN, BABY" I proclaimed it fantastic poetic justice.... at its finest...but Troy burst my bubble, saying the old guy probably knew exactly what he was buying. Oh well, either way, it was a train-wreck, and thoroughly entertaining.

We've been in a holding pattern for the past few days, waiting for my lovely mother's care package ( the second one!) So far, we've used to free time for planning the next sections of the trip. #1 on the list is cementing the final details for Nepal, which we are almost finished with. We found a wonderful guide, Puru, who will handle everything in Nepal from airport pickup to rafting, to trekking. Now we need to find a reasonable ticket! But before Nepal, we are going to Siem Reap, Cambodia to check out one of the seven wonders of the world, Angkor Wat. Thankfully, visas are issued on arrival, and we can take a bus direct from Thailand to Siem Reap. This is the next thing to plan....

Soon, we will have a firm itinerary to report!

I'm really tired, so La Kon Ka!

Until next time,

xoxoxoxo

2006-06-19T21:42:00.000+07:00

Many of you who are able to read the comments posted to this blog will know that a few were very nervous regarding our visa run to Myanmar (Burma). Myanmar has had a very unstable, authoritarian, corrupt government for decades. As you may know in several cases the government’s militia was responsible for the rape and murder of its own people. On a much less violent, yet still damaging, note, they exert a monopoly on all industries, most notably, tourism, and thereby restrict the local population’s ability to support itself.

As I have seen in Thailand, tourism is a major source of income and could be the same for Myanmar if only the Burmese people could work around government cronies. Buses, taxis, and many hotels are directly owned by (and therefore support) the existing regime. Tourists who sympathize with this depressing quagmire have a hard time justifying a trip because bringing in their money funds an unjust administration. In addition to these sad problems of poverty and oppression, Myanmar has also had recent tensions with the US government. Just this month the US tried to single-handedly (as usual) force other nations into condemning the regime. With Japan and several other countries, we were unsuccessful. This failure combined with our well-known and well-loathed international “diplomacy” has the capability to cast American travelers in a dubious light, and to my mom’s horror, make a border-crossing dangerous.

I am never one to throw caution to the wind, and as I assured loved ones, the Ranong-Myanmar visa run is a very safe and normal operation for tourists in Thailand. **Another major travel lesson I have learned is: never gauge the safety of a location by the media alone. Combining your own research on an area and talking to other travelers who have just gone where you want to go is the best practice.**

Frequently, ex-pats fail to get the proper documentation/visas to stay long term, and many resort to monthly trips to extend their visa. One of Dan’s acquaintances has been doing this for the past 10 years!

In our case, and many other long-term backpackers, we need more than just 30 days to see everything we want in Thailand; short of breaking your Thailand explorations into 29 day chunks a visa run is the only option.

I won’t lie and say we weren’t a little nervous, but no more so than we were traveling to any other new country. Reading the process was a little confusing, which disturbed me, because I wanted to know the exact process. Each site that I read seemed to have slightly different information; like having to buy a crisp US 5 dollar bill for the equivalent of 10 dollars to cross in Burma. Because of this, I researched several companies and hotels which offered package tours, and eventually settled on the expensive (1400 baht per person) run. This package was advertised and run by an English owned luxury hotel in Patong Beach and was seriously the best thing ever. When you have so many unknowns, sometimes getting a tour is the best option.
The van seemed to be 4 times the size of the soda can we rode in from Surat Thani, or maybe that was because there were only 5 ( including us) going, and there was working air condition, and a large screen DVD player stocked with movies, TV shows and even American music videos. The trip included all the trip costs, visa costs and even included a free lunch ( choice of chicken sandwich or fried rice) with water.

The entire thing was comfortable, delightfully uneventful, and cheap considering the amount of transport to and from Phuket. We took the large bus for a 4 hour ride ( the most discomfort I felt was due to the rambo-style, blind-curve passing, not the vehicle) to the border town of Ranong. This is a very small and depressed little village on the border of Thailand with tin-roofed shacks on stilts and lots of garbage. We walked through a small walkway ( where there was a perfect, red rose blooming amidst the litter/pollution/dilapidation; I thought it was so beautiful...we were quickly funneled through or I'd have taken a pic) After waiting for a minute for our guide, we were on our way aboard a real marine vessel! Seats, life vests and gauges! To get to the boat, we had to literally walk a 1 ft wide 15 ft long plank that was stretched between. The ferry ride was about twenty minutes and unexpectedly picturesque. The islands and peninsula surrounding the bay were shades of bright and deep green and dotted with golden spires that looked to be buddhist temples from afar. The water in the bay was a very bright green, a color that I have never seen before. When we arrived into Myanmar, our guide took our passports and handled everything for us while we sat on the pier. The captain assured us it was safe to cross into Burma, as there are cheap cigarettes and alcohol, but Troy and I decided we don't need any of that, and we'd rather not have any hassle.

Sitting on the dock as we arrived were several Burmese people. One of them, a child, made a big impression on me. Contrary to all other vendors I have come across who shout you down/pull your clothing, he sat quiet with his head down, his sack of peanuts on his knees. ( see pic) He had the traditional face paint used for both sunblock and cosmetic purposes, and didn't even make eye contact until I was standing right above him. We handed him 60 baht, about $1.25, and let him keep his peanuts. I asked only for a photo of him, what a beautiful child! He obliged, bashful and sweet, and I kicked myself afterwards for not giving him a lot more than we did.

In any case, after a few minutes, we had our passports stamped out of Thailand, into and back out of Myanmar. A piece of cake! Then we returned to Thai immigration and got another 30 day visa. We need to make another visa run or go to Vietnam/Cambodia before July 18th.

Well, I must admit I am pretty tired. Troy is already fast asleep....
It was a great success; easy, relatively fast, and even beautiful.

xoxoxoxoxo
night night

2006-06-18T21:51:00.000+07:00

About 430am on the 11th both Troy and I were awakened by yelling right outside our hotel room. I was quite annoyed as we hadn't fallen asleep until 2am ( watching "butt-fudge mountain" with Heath and Jake; ahem Brokeback Mountain), and we had our bus to the port in the morning. Even with my ear plugs firmly stuffed into my ears, the yelling back and forth was impossible to sleep through.

When I realized the futility of closing my eyes, I looked to Troy who was already sitting up and peering outside the curtains to the reception desk area. He said he had been trying to figure out what was going on, as this was happening for 10-15 minutes so far. What we saw was 3 western looking persons, two twenty something girls, and one twenty-something guy, shouting back and forth with a skinny Thai woman on the entryway to the bungalows. There were a few other Thais watching nervously looking as if they had just woken up and were trying to figure out the situation as well.

The one Thai woman continued to scream and yell in Thai, and then the police arrived on their motorbikes, sans sirens or flashing. After a few seconds, they approached her, handcuffed her and took her away; by the way, I think Thailand is one of the few places in the world where police take you "downtown" on the back of their moped. I haven't seen a Ko Samui ambulance yet, but I'm praying its not a guy on a motorbike with a siren/light combo strapped to his head...But at this point, nothing will surprise me!

After the cop and woman were gone, we were exhausted and glad to be able to fall back to sleep. The next morning while waiting for our bus to the port, I asked one of the Thais in the lobby if anything strange happened last night. He nodded, quite amused.

"lady-boy robber" he said breaking into a grin.

I shrugged, obviously not familiar with this pedestrian occurance and he launched into the events of the previous night.

Apparently the 3 westerners ( a boyfriend and girlfriend, and the girl's sister) returned to their room about 330am after watching one of the soccer games on satellite tv. The sisters were not tired, and they decided to buy two beers at the convenience store at the corner. They returned with their beer and went to sit on the beach. Fifteen minutes later, they walked back up to their room to go to sleep when they noticed the door to their bungalow was cracked. Thinking the boyfriend had left it ajar for them, they went in the room. To their horror a woman was ripping through their bags and had out their camera, passports, credit cards and envelope full of money. On closer inspection, the girls and guy saw this was a lady-boy. The guy acted fast throwing the lady-boy into a headlock, while the girls went to find the manager/owner of the hotel. Luckily, the cooks were up at that time, and called the owner, who then called the police.

The kicker: the lady boy told police that he had gone home with the guy the previous night, had sex with him several times, and just come out of the shower when the girls walked in the room!!! Not a plausible excuse for being caught stealing, but very entertaining nontheless.... Luckily, this guy got all his money and stuff back, problem free. The manager insisted that he go to the station to press charges against this guy, because if he didn't the lady-boy would surely return to do it again.

The owner said that criminals check to see if every door in the hotel is open, and if they are caught while someone wakes up, they simply apologize saying they were looking for their friend, and it is the wrong room. Thank goodness Troy and I are vigilant about locking our doors, and hiding our things, but it was good to be reminded to be aware!

We arrived into Patong Beach, Phuket late last night after being funneled into a "sister" travel company of the tour we used to go to Phuket.Great business practice for the local Thais ; chuckle, chuckle....Basically, they bring you to a small, out of the way apartment ( not some central point of your destination), which doubles as a travel agency. After you have traveled for some hours ( probably upwards of 10; like us) in a small, packed vehicle, you're tired, and not in the mood for an expensive taxi. Unfortunately, if you take this tour company, and do not buy a hotel package from them, you're basically stranded there. You are forced to call a taxi ( in Thailand they charge you for the time to pick up as well as your actual journey) which could be upwards of 500 baht!! They also are known to tell people their hotel is "closed" and take them to another hotel, for which they get kick-backs. We, luckily, did not have a reservation in stone anywhere, and could agree on the lovely Le Tong Beach Resort for about 15 bucks a night. There was an older American expat, who was an editor of a magazine based in Phuket, who was not as lucky. She ended up paying more for the taxi ride from that agency than the entire 10 hour journey from Ko Samui!!

It was a 2.5 hour ferry ride to Surat Thani, and then another 4.5 hour drive southwest to the large island of Phuket.

When getting into the port of Surat Thani, as the only ones going to Phuket, we got momentarily excited that we'd be alone in the 12 seat minivan for the entire journey. Mistake! We went to 3 other tour agencies who had sweaty backpackers, just like us, lined up out front waiting for the next bus. We were lucky to be the first ones in, and our bags had the luxury of being inside the vehicle. I noticed the 60 something Thai man flinging the newcomers bags haphazardly onto the roof, wondering how in the heck they stay there for a long, high speed drive. The irish fellow behind me wondered the same thing, and apprehensively approached the driver. After irish-guy insisted in an entertaining demonstration ( the driver didn't speak English), the driver tied down the backpacks with a bit of rope.

We were on our way, at capacity, in the '84 Hyundai Toaster, waiting in vain for the exhausted fan to morph into an effective cooling device when we saw the storm clouds. These clouds didn't bother me so much as the Irish guy whose bags were on the roof. Rope is good for securing the bags but doesn't do much in the way of water-proofing them....In addition to his baggage situation, this guy was also sitting in the rear row of seats...well "row" is a bit of an over-statement here. The seat in front of him ( which Troy and I were lucky enough to avoid as we came first) had no lock on its recline lever, so it just sort of swayed. With someone sitting in it, their weight basically reclined the seat into the lap of the person behind them. Irish guy is about Troy's height with about 50 more pounds, so you can imagine his excitement for the road-trip ahead with a small chinese man fully reclined onto his thighs.

We arrived problem-free to our luxurious oceanview room took hot showers ( wow, its been more than 3 weeks since my last hot one) and fell into our big bed.

Today we were total slugs, not even leaving the hotel until 4pm to scout out the pick-up point for our visa run tomorrow. Thankfully its fully air-con, with a DVD player onboard so we won't be too bored.

We will be back from Ranong tomorrow evening, and I am sure we will have some more entertainment for you all :-)

Happy Father's day!!! Especially to Don, Wayne and Poppa
We love you all!

PS the pic is Patong Beach just after sunset...

xoxoxoxox

2006-06-14T14:52:00.000+07:00

Ok!!! PICTURES!!! At long last :) We are in Chaweng Beach in Ko Samui, which is like the South Beach of Thailand. There is everything you would want or need here, all for a negotiable price. Case and point, as I am typing this, Troy is bargaining for a pair of real Billabong shorts. He says he can tell by the label and material(?) I think the lady started at 1000 baht ( or about 26 dollars) and then worked her way down to 450 baht or 11 bucks!

We still need sunglasses....I actually had a pair ( Troy lost his in Bangkok) but I lost them when we flipped our kayak. Bugs run extra large here, and we were caught by surprise when a 3 inch long wasp-bee looking thing almost landed on Troy's face. Of course we were both waving our arms and freaking out, but this is not the best protocol in a kayak ( lesson learned) and we flipped. Thankfully, I decided against bringing the camera or other electronics, as they would have been completely ruined. Troy tied down our bag with sunscreen, bug spray, shoes and water so the only thing we lost was our "cool-kayakers" status.

Kayaking was great fun, and we did it two days in a row. The workout is great and you get to see things at your own pace, all alone, discovering. As I mentioned, this is our favorite way to explore these sort of places. We kayaked the first day for 4 hours, down from Thong Nai Pan Yai beach ( where our bungalow was) close to the steep rocky shore and then the second we kayaked to Bottle Beach, which is only accessible by boat. It took a little longer to get there, and was a little more intense with wind and distance, but so very worth it. The expensive snorkel tours for the island all stop at this beach, and we were quite proud of ourselves to get there, on our own, via elbow grease!

The day after kayaking was the night of the infamous full moon party. Legend says that it started with only 50 people, food and someones radio, and over the past 19 years it has morphed into one of the biggest parties in the world. Low season brings about 10,000 people, and high season can bring more than 30,000. Although everyone reading this who knows me, will realize this is so not my scene ( anymore >;-) ) but Troy and I both agreed that we would need to check this out because we are already here.

We met up with a cool Aussie we met at our cottage, Kelly, and promised to stay together and protect each other. When we got there, I realized that this was just like any huge party in the world, complete with passed out/puking patrons, glow-stick twirlers, street food vendors, naked-hippies, and lots and lots of alcohol. It was alarming to see the young western girls wasted out of their minds; no doubt they considered this place to be like their home-country....which I can assure you its NOT. All the dangerous, bad stuff happens to people like this. We read about drugging, theft, rape and murder!

You can see the "poi" or fire twirling in the pic; I love the low light shutter delay-thingy :) There were Thais and Westerners alike taking part in this, which was really beautiful and entertaining. Many of the young Thai men doing this would put any Hawaiian to shame!

Obviously, as the "seniors" there, we each had about 2 drinks, and decided to turn in when the bass-music and party-goers got really annoying :)

The ride home was "adventurous". When we bought the ferry ticket I stupidly assumed this would be some sort of sturdy vehicle, with life-vests, seats, etc. What arrived was basically a wooden dingy with a car engine strapped to a long pole fitted with a propeller, which was then lowered into the water. The seats were wooden planks laid across the bottom of the boat. I hadn't noticed the storm clouds in the sky until we got 30 people deep into a boat probably made for 8. The "captain" was about 15, drunk, and trying to pick up young Thai girls walking by on the beach. It was very funny ( Troy even pointed out his wearing a Gilligan-like cap-NOT a good sign) until he untied the boat and we started drifting into open water. The screams of the Thais onboard alerted the young skipper that he was not yet ON the vessel, but yet still stumbling on the beach. After he swam out to the boat, he turned us around and headed out to the ocean. He was a talented seaman, veering the boat narrowly from reef jutting out of the water all while holding a beer and smoking a cigarrette. Unfortunately, the crowd was unimpressed, and became rather weary of his kamikaze style driving. We did get even more nervous on the last stretch of the trip, as the Thais in the front of the boat started screaming. We noticed we were slaloming through a coral reef very close to shore, and when the Thais start freaking, I would say it's a good time to freak too. I could already read the headlines " 20 foreigners die in a ghetto-raft coming back wasted from the full moon party"....well probably something like that. Both of us noticed the lack of any type of safety equipment, namely a radio to call for help.

Anyway, I am glad to say, we made it out alive! WHEW!!

Yesterday was our first full day in Ko Samui, which is a short 2 hour boat ride from Ko Phangan. This island is like Bangkok mixed with Ko Phangan, which is actually a welcome change. We were on the smaller more secluded island for two weeks, and were ready for grocery stores, shopping, restaurants and communication.

We moved out of the crappy shack we rented on the first night, which was basically a roach-infested box out in the back of their property. It didn't even look like a real room, just some converted shed, where they dried the property laundry and threw the garbage ( THATS where that rotten fish smell is coming from) but we were both so tired from sleeping only 3 hours ( we didn't get back form the full moon until 3am, and boat left for Samui at 9am) that we took it and agreed to move the following day. Troy mistakenly decided to do his laundry at this place, and they ended up trying to charge 3 times the price. We were both surprised and amazed at the blatent dishonesty. Both of us insisted on seeing the scale, as he claimed we had ten pounds of laundry, when it was two pants and two shirts! After going around with this guy for 30 minutes, we finally agreed to pay twice what we should have; we were too tired of this jerk to argue that our things did not have 1 pound of dirt on it, yes that is what he seriously claimed.

After leaving that god-forsaken place, we walked along the beach and found a very agreeable apartment with aircon and close to the beach for 600 baht, or around 15 bucks. Seabreeze bungalows. It is a good deal, and quite a luxury to have aircon while you sleep, or watch a movie. Troy and I are both so glad to have brought the laptop, as it also doubles as a DVD player :-) We bought V for Vendetta, the Matador and Jarhead all for 7 bucks.

Walking back from our shopping trip on our second night in Ko Samui, we saw a motorcycle crash right in front of us....Troy was looking at a store, and I was glancing at the street and saw a Thai passing a car ( in the wrong lane of course) and then slam into a father and son who were turning onto the street before looking. The bike burst into flames right next to us, and we were all so stunned we didn't think to run! Troy grabbed my arm and then we sprinted down the street until a local splashed the fire out with buckets of water. Amazingly, neither of the drivers were seriously injured. Thank God.

I am very glad I insisted on NO motorbike here...Yesterday we saw three to one moped, riding in the rain, passing oncoming vehicles with the driver holding a tarp with one hand and the handle bars with the other. Troy and I have belly-laughed many a time on the "safety-last" protocol followed here :) Along those same lines, we were on the street ( we are becoming quite fond of good street food) getting a bite to eat, when rain erupted, and started to drench all of the food stands. These stands were plugged into some kind of outdoor outlets for their lights and stoves. When the rain started to really pour, Troy actually had the nerve to ask if they had GFI or Ground Fault Interrupted outlets, because no one seemed to mind that they stood in shoddy wired shacks pumping electricity through the torrential downpour. You would understand what a ridiculous question that is, when you see there are literally zero precautions taken for personal safety....."No Worries!"

You guys will be glad to see more photos in the latest album on fotki. http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/a_few_from_siam/

Enjoy!

Looks like we will stay another day in Ko Samui, and leave to Phuket on the 17th to do our visa run to Ranong.

Hopefully wifi will be no problem and we can continue uploading and blogging :-)

We love you all--

To Ruba, Paul, Tony, and Maki - I haven't heard from you guys, and I have emailed you...are you getting my emails? It's been screwed up for a bit and its hard to tell if they go through...

xoxoxoxoxo
La Kon Ka! or La Kon Kup if you're a boy ;-)

2006-06-10T14:01:00.000+07:00

ok ok, i know i've been lax with the postings, but with very good reason! The internet is such a pain here, and soon in Phuket we will have unlimited access to wifi internet to upload all our pics to fotki and to blogger.

We leave for Ko Samui on the 12th, after the famous full moon party on Ko Phangan on the 11th. We spend a few days there until the 16th, then take the ferry to Surat Thani, then a bus south to Phuket.

We have had an amazing two weeks here at the resort, and there is more to come of all our adventures here. Big, big bugs, waterfalls, kayaks flipping over ...the works.

Sorry again for being short, but it won't be long before we are back into civilization and we can update you properly :-)

We love you all!

xoxoxoxo

2006-06-04T15:26:00.000+07:00

I have given up on trying to upload pics from this island, as it seems they have only download capability from here? Its frustrating, but we will be able to upload all pics to fotki and then to blogspot from phuket.

The past three days have been so lovely, so relaxing, even more than the Greek Isles. I think the heat forces relaxation :) The puppy we adopted ( Duppy is Troys name for her) is really sweet. She is all black with a little white patch on her chest, and she has already grown attached to us following us all over the beach. She even ate dinner with us last night!

Tomorrow we go down to Had Rin beach which is on the southern coast of the island. Thong Nai Pan Beach is on the northwest side, and much more secluded. Tomorrow we make the plunge into harcore travel with no AC, but it shouldn't be that bad as our bungalow is oceanfront! Had Rin is near the famous full moon party, which happens on the 11th of June or next Sunday. We are a little apprehensive as to the people attending this thing, and we both agree its highly possible they are all rave-baby hippies, but its good to go once, and say you've done it :) No mom, we will not take ecstasy, mushrooms, or opium. I saw "brokedown palace" too :-O

So I know you all want to see pics, but maybe I can describe our little beach....The water is a light green ( not blue) and is flanked by white sand beaches that vary from powdery to coarse. There are rolling hills covered by dense tropical forest and towering palms. I wasn't expecting it, but there are many huge butterflies all around. Last night on the porch of our bungalow I saw 3 large black with blue monarchs fluttering by me.

The food is really good, and I guess all the foreigners have brought hamburgers and fries, so if you get sick of rice and curry, you can have some food from home:-)

After another few weeks on this island, we head to Ko Samui, then Ko Tao, then to Chonburi. This city is on the east coast of mainland Thailand, and is the gateway for visa runs to Burma. We need to check out how safe these are as I have read mixed stories...but our visa here runs out June 21st, so we need to leave and return by then!

Hopefully we can get some pics to you all soon!

xoxoxoxoxoxox
Love you all

2006-06-01T17:29:00.000+07:00

New month, new city/island, a new post! I am happy to say we have arrived in Ko Phan Ngan Thailand. WHEW! I think this overnight + ferry journey has been the most tiring so far because we had to sit in a bus seat for 12 hours :-( There was also a coughing Australian girl who sat right behind us, offering her germs to us about every 5 minutes :P Yes, mom, I already used your Wallborne :-))

After arriving in Surant Thani, we had to wait for two hours at dawn ( from 6am to 8am) to board the ferry. The port was very foggy, and was a thatch-roofed hut which had wild orchids growing around it. Lots of bugs, mossies, noseeums, and other various stinging kinds. Thankfully we had two full bottles of natural repellant.

The ferry was not like the ones in Greece, mind you, but rather an old 40 footer ( kind of like Clemens' first boat; the one he bumper-boated on Thankgiving) with seats installed. I tried to not think about the ferry which sunk killing several because they didn't have enough life jackets and packed too many people onboard. Actually, the boat was supposed to have three stops, but after the first at Ko Samui, they said we all needed to change boats, so that's good!

They had a squat toilet with a dish of water on the boat, too. These are traditional asian toilets, no paper, no soap, just go man. I am already getting a little used to the squatting toilet deal, but was a whole new ballgame this am as I went to hold the wall to support myself and almost grabbed two geckos which scurried away. I think the thais thought I was crazy, because after I screamed ( the geckos) they were all smiling strangely at me :/

After arriving in Thong Sala, which is the port town of the island, we endured a 45 "ride" from the port to our bungalow on Thong Nai Pan. It was the worst road I have ever seen! Troy said it was the second worse..He said Wayne took the old van with no powersteering down into an old river bed when he was young hehehehe. Troy and I almost peed our pants several times ( me looking at him and him looking at me). We were both crammed into the bed of a tiny nissan pickup which had a tin roof hammered on-you can imagine Troy's 6'5 frame into a 2ft metal ceiling, hanging on to the edge of the bed to avoid hitting our heads into the tin roof , or worse being thrown out of the truck. It was clear our " chauffeur" was comfortable gunning this haggard vehicle into the 2-3 foot potholes and mud pits, because he did not seem to flinch as we were flung half way out of the vehicle twice :-0

It felt very similar to riding a mechanical bull, but for 45 minutes! It was funnier than I can possibly try to explain...

Anyway, now we are here, and I am thoroughly exhausted. We had rice, coconut milkshakes and tom ka gai, and now we are going to lay in our A/C bungalow and get some winks :-)

Tomorrow we are going to rent a longtail to check the rest of the island....Not to our surprise, our hotel manager assured us everyone travels this place by boat, because it is dangerous to use the roads--MMHMMMM, YES WE KNOW THAT-

We also found a little puppy which we could not leave on the side of the road. She looks to be about 4 weeks old, and I am getting food for her right now. Although Troy and I have no idea what we will do with her, I just knew she would die if we didn't bring her in. There are many older strays here that were messing with her, and Troy came to her rescue...

Hopefully we can get the pic thing worked out

The pics are not loading :-(** I cant figure it out...have tried two internet cafes so far--

2006-05-28T18:28:00.000+07:00

Sorry for the so short posting yesterday, I was caught trying to do the blog when Us, Mon, Ai, and Penny were ready to leave to the neighborhood flea market. We lived on the wild side after Ai made fun of us....We drank a local drink with local ice and water :) I am happy to report neither of us have the runs, hep A ( thank you Dr. Frank) or ecoli...Its "exciting" to drink something not knowing if you'll puke or become host to a virulent bacterial infection :P The final straw was when Ai said "look even the 4 year old girl drinks it!" Ok ok! We'll try it. I promise, us Americans aren't all hypochondriac weiners-as I braced myself for a severe strain of dysentary.

What we had was called "Chai Kai Mook"...which is a sort of frozen milkshake thing, flavored like anything you want ( chocolate, watermelon, coconut, coffee) but the unique thing about this drink are the little jello-like balls ( size of small gumballs) that they put in the bottom. These are made from the flower of the sticky rice plant. They are boiled together and they form little brownish-black balls, which get sucked up through the big straw they give you. So when you take a swig of your milkshake, these balls come up and you have to chew them..quite interesting, very different, and very delicious! It was a bit disconcerting when you see the guy making it on a table set up next to raw chicken and dried fish something or other, in a thai flea market, but sooner or later, I need to get used to the fact that this is not the US...I shouldn't expect it to be--It's all a part of getting used to a different culture. As Ai put yesterday, we can get killed by worse things than a Chai Kai Mook! :)

I am becoming a big fan of Thai sticky rice in desserts. Yesterday we had two different desserts which were both sticky rice and wrapped in banana leaves. One is called Kau Niaw, which has a little custard type pancake on top of sticky rice which was boiled in sweet condensed milk and coconut milk, and the other was sticky rice cooked with sweet milk and taro ( yes the same taro that hawaiians make poi with)

The last sweet thing we had was very interesting. They make cotton candy-like threads which are then colored blue, green, or pink. They have little thin crepe things called "lo ti" that are then wrapped around a pinch of the cotton candy threads, for a cotton candy burrito type thing. Neither Troy or I had ever seen anything like that before, but its very good! Addictive, even..All together its called " lo ti sai mai"

Today we got up early and headed out to the Chatuchak flea market; the biggest, busiest weekend flea market in all of Bangkok. Even at 8am it was busy with "farangs" or tourists, and locals alike. We bought a lot of stuff for 1/5th thew price you's expect to pay in the states...Troy got billabong ( probably fakes) boardshorts for 6 bucks! I got some fake birkenstocks ( but with real leather; GOOD fakes) for like 5 bucks.

We also stopped at the bus station to get the schedule for Surat Thani, the gateway to Ko Samui, Ko Phan Ngan, and Ko Tao. I think we will stay here 2-3 more days, then head south to see the beaches! The heat is not as bad, I imagine, with beachfront breezes and water to lay in all day :) The bus ride is an exhausting 11 hours, with another 3 hour ferry ride to the islands. Needless to say we will be pooped om arrival, but we will have plenty of time to relax when we're there. This is the place that "the beach" movie made famous. I'll let you all know if it is truly as magical as it looked on the big screen.

The pic is from part of the Bangkok skyline from On Noot station. It isn't as condensed as many other cities around the world ( like NY or SF) but rather a few towering high rises clustered together amidst expansive urban sprawl in all directions.

Tomorrow is a pool day, I think ;-)

Until next time xoxoxoxoxoox

2006-05-27T16:48:00.000+07:00

As promised, Penny hired her brother for an all day tour to the famous floating market and the rose garden. Thankfully, Penny knew the drill, and had us leave the house at 6am to get to the market first, before the heat and tens of huge tour buses arrived.

It took a good 2 1/2 hours to get there, but we enjoyed the rural scenery the entire drive in the comfortable air condition of the car. We passed rice fields, coconut and banana farms and even saw a few water buffalo hanging around by the road.

When we arrived it was still the early morning ( about 8am) and we were first to get in the market canal on a paddle boat. This is the best way to see the market, because you can go down many little canals which are not accessible to pedestrians. Penny let us know they buy the items from other cheaper flea markets in Bangkok, then bring it to the floating market to charge 2 or 3 times the price, which to tourists is still very cheap.

For 300 baht or a little less than 10 bucks, we had our own private longtail boat paddled through the market canals for an hour. We were also taken to a coconut farm, where they were making coconut juice from the flowers, and coconut sugar. I had to buy some, it was just .80 cents US for a whole bag!

I have to go right now, but will update more later!

2006-05-25T19:34:00.000+07:00

The first few days here at Penny and Dans have been such an oasis; one we did not fully understand until heading out into Bangkok today.

Sheltered in the comfortable air condition, with English TV and starburst, I lazed around in what I thought was heat, trying to get over mild jet lag. Little did I know!!

Penny and Dan live outside the prefecture, closer to the water and the breeze in a luxurious ( even by Americans standards) gated community. This morning we got up early ( 7am) to "tour the city without the heat" Penny smiles :-) **They have been amazing hosts so far cooking, cleaning, guiding, and even making us some coffee....We really lucked out.**

The best word to describe this city during the summer ( even to Thai's this is the hot season) is hot as f*%$ or pardon my french, very warm. :-) Bangkok has all the action and bustle of any major metropolis with another 30+ degrees Farenheit of heat, an army of motorcyle taxi's and minibuses ( which are actually a small pickup truck with 15 people standing in the back) swerving into oncoming traffic, delicious smelling pad thai frying in streetside pans, and strolling orange-robed monks. You cannot be blase about anything your first time in Bangkok...of that i am certain. The air is hot and thick, with it the scents of sesame, curry, and oil.

Even in the most intense heat ( Troy and I never stopped pouring sweat; you just have to give up and realize that how its going to be) the city is gorgeous. Each and every second is so foreign it is impossible to forget, even for a single second, that you are not anywhere remotely familiar. We passed shops that sold dried squid and wooden carvings, dank humid restaurants with sputtering fans ( an attempt to ease the sweltering heat) sidewalks converted into fleamarkets selling second hand shoes and exhaust masks, mens with books of silk or paper umbrellas trailing after "farangs", old men squatted over bowls filled with noodles, recordings of buddist hymns blaring, tuk-tuks, motorbikes, cars and buses all coughing out thick pollution.....This is BANGKOK!!!

Hard to believe. This is the city and the country I have dreamed about visiting for a very long time. When we dreamed this trip up, Troy insisted on Europe, and I insisted about Asia. Both of us couldn't be more excited to further explore the entire country from north to south; Chaing Mai, to Krabi.

Dan and Penny's neighbor, Us, is a 24 year old Thai girl who is very "Narack", which means cute.( wink wink, segoy kakoy to Makisan) She has taken it upon herself to show us around Bangkok, and practice her English. If she scores high enough on her English exam, she can become a flight attendant for Thai Airways, where one of her friends has opened an "inside track" for a position. After complaining about some difficulties of Americans learning Thai ( for instance the word "ya" can mean bird, lizard or forbidden depending on your intonation; there are 5 words for "ba" and so on) she repeated Micheal Jackson to improve her pronunciation. Its extremely entertaining and endearing to listen to her chanting "Miker Jackshan" with determination to get it right :-)

Penny and Us told us that many Thais have difficulty learning correct grammar and pronunciation, as many who teach English are Thai. We noticed many signs ( even ones printed by the Government) had incorrect grammar or spelling. If we can find a school near the beach :-), I can see myself settling in here to teach English. Surprisingly, the highest educated Thais are paid the same as "Farang" English teachers, which is about 1000 US per month.

Tomorrow we have to get up early to go to the Rose Garden, which boasts traditional Thai dancing ( a la King and I; which on a side note was banned here in Thailand??) Muay Thai boxing, and huge garden of flowers.

The pictures are at the Grand Palace and the famous reclining Buddha. In the Wat, you can hear little metallic clinking noises echoing up 100 feet to the ceiling...Its quite a beautiful but strange sound. When you walk around the back of the Buddha, you can see a hundred small black jars lined in a row. You exchange 20 baht ( or around 60 cents US) for a small cup of 1/2 baht coins. You walk along the cups dropping each coin into a jar while making a wish. With people in front, people in back, and you, the sound is really amazing.

Hopefully the camera holds up in the high heat and humidity...
Geisha girl-I LOVE YOU :-) When is Japan, my dear?

Mom, ( Barb + Debbie) Dad ( Don + Wayne), and everyone, we love you too....These are the most exciting moments of our life!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

2006-05-23T14:52:00.000+07:00

WE LANDED!!!

After a very different experience in Bahrain ( guys wearing white long dress-looking things with sheets and black ropes around their head, prayer rooms and prayers in the airport, women walking in all black dresses with their head and face completely covered with a black shawl-only their eyes poked through) we landed this morning in Bangkok. Happily met by Penny and two other escorts ( tourist police and airport security) we bribed ( I guess this is the custom :-) ) the customs guys to skip the line of hundreds of foreign tourists and pass through without a hitch....It was unexpectedly smooth. At one point an airport guy stopped us and asked to lookin our bags, but he was quickly shooed away by the police Penny had with us :-))

It is hot, but it isn't any more hot than Athens was....just a little more humid. It is exactly like Miami weather, I would say.

Penny and Dans house is also not typical Thai....They've got all the comforts of a nice new American home! They have two stories, our own private bathroom, normal toilet ( no holes in the floor) with a modern kitchen, internet, satellite TV and english books/newspapers!!! This place feels just like home...

Troy and I joked that it feels like were in Az, Ca or Fl?

I'm at an internet cafe sipping a latte in a shopping mall right now, how exotic eh???

After a few days of getting acclimated, I think Troy and I will venture around Bangkok and they surrounding areas on our own before heading down to the islands.

We are in safe, sound and strangely in all the American comforts of home :-)

Until next time
xoxoxoxox

2006-05-22T03:33:00.000+07:00

I'm not sure if you guys noticed, but I forgot to add the list of "things to remember" for first timers in Italy and Greece. Enjoy!

*PS I took this pic today. It is a pharmacy advertising their bandages with mannequins; strange but amusing protocol :-

Things to remember for first-timers in Italy:

1. Roman men prove you can wear shiny glasses, lots of hair gel, tight jeans and still be straight
2. "Cappuchio" is how the Italians refer to cappuccino
3. In cafes, there are two prices for the same item: consumed at the bar and at a table. Tables are always more expensive, sometimes double the price!
4. Prego is not a spaghetti sauce, but " Can I help you" or " You're welcome"
5. Florence has a lot of dirt, litter, tourists, long lines, and high prices
6. In Rome, you can ride on the Tiber for 1 hour for only 1 euro
7. You can get amazing Chinese food in Rome
8. Public buses do not announce or display stops. You're going to have to ask!
9. You will love paninis, gelato, limoncello, and cappuccino
10. We did not encounter any public restrooms with toilet seats
11. Line up at the Palatino to get your dual ticket for the Colliseum; sans 2 hour wait time
12. Beware of Italian men who buy you shots of limoncello and rub their bodies on you
13. Soda is more expensive than wine

Things to remember for first-timers in Greece

1. Public trains and buses are never on time
2. "Yasu" means hello, "Yamas" means cheers, something sounding like "Afghanistan" ( I'm serious) means Thank You
3. In the low-season in the islands, hotel prices are negotiable
4. as a whole, the Greeks were the friendliest European country we visited. This includes cab-drivers, people on the street, waiters, shop-owners, hoteliers, bartenders and hosts) Don't be afraid to strike up a conversation with locals; they are genuinely nice and helpful
5. English is widely spoken and written
6. Greeks smoke a lot and drink a lot of coffee
7. Don't try to pet the donkeys, they will try to charge you
8. We didn't encounter any showers with curtains or doors. We soaked every bathroom when taking a shower
9. Hot water, though readily available, runs out quickly as their hot water tanks are much smaller
10. Australians are here; droves of them
11. You must try, nougat, rakomelo, mousakas, baklava, and frappes
12. If you stay on the caldera of the islands, bring a backpack. You can't go directly to your hotel by car, you have to walk cobblestone steps; lots of them usually

2006-05-21T18:33:00.000+07:00

Last night we made it out to Pan's apartment in central Athens with his two roomies Dimitrios and Yiannis. Dimitri is on the left and Pan is in the middle. What a cool apartment and they are all very cool people! Again, we feel lucky to have met them here during our last nights in Greece ( and Europe for that matter) Both Pan and Dimitri want to plan similar trips as ours leaving everything behind to travel for an extended period.

We spent last evening sipping strawberry daquiris and chatting about everything from travel to religion and couchsurfing. Pan had a wedding to go to for the first part of the night, but then we met up at a neighborhood bar and stayed out until 430am!! It was the longest Troy or I had been out in a very long time, and the funniest thing was that neither of us felt tired because of the great company we were in :) Needless to say it is 230pm here now, and all of us just woke up an hour ago :-P

Pan and Dimitri were so much fun, and they even bought us drinks...which we tried to fight, but it was useless..They are very generous hosts.

Today is another scorcher, and I think Troy and I will get a frappe, stroll around and find some shady bench outside to watch the day. I LOVE the greek lifestyle ;-)

Yesterday we saw the Acropolis, which is just as fantastic as it looks in the pictures. I learned from Dimitri, however, that the original appearance of the Parthenon and other ancient Greek structures were not white but colored brilliantly with yellow and red. It is a misconception that the Ancient greek buildings were all white! Amazingly many of the sculptures found in the area were preserved in the museum, many of them 2500 years old!!!

We saw Zeus' Temple ( not in the Acropolis), the theater of Dionysus where plays by Sophocles were performed, the famous temple to Athena with the sacred olive tree ( which legend says was planted by the god Athena after Poseidon/Neptune struck his trident to create the sea), and of course the Parthenon which had extensive scaffolding for its restoration. Ironically, the restoration efforts are to correct previous restorations which used improper materials, and actually ruin the marble over time.

We did get a few cool pics without the scaffolding, and they can be found at the pic site.

Hard to believe the European whirlwind leg of our trip is over, and tomorrow we will be flying through the middle east and arriving in the far east!

2006-05-19T17:45:00.000+07:00

Athens! We are here :) Yesterday was very long....the gansta ferry ( half price) took 8 hours to meander its way back to Piraeus, and then the subway was closed down. The port is 30 minutes away from central Athens, which is where our hotel is, and because there was no running public transit, we had to pay 30 euro for the taxi. So, you can see paying the regular price for the 2 hour ferry that left and arrived in the afternoon is a smart choice for anyone coming from the greek isles and going back to Athens...

Today we are actually still in the island state of mind...That means we are being lazy :-) and not doing anything in particular except for strolling, laundry and internet. I have loaded a few more pics top the Greece library on fotki, and for those who don't know the pic site ( although it is typed on the left side at the bottom of the blog in our profile ;-) ) it is : http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/

Tomorrow evening we go to Pan's house, for two nights until our flight on Monday.

I am not in the sight-seeing mood today ( is that bad???) and both of us would rather see the Da Vinci Code ( English with Greek subtitles we are hoping) and go to bed early!

Blog again soon my dearests!

xoxooxoxx

2006-05-18T01:19:00.000+07:00

Finally :) Here are some pics. As you can see the island of Milos has very colorful rocks and ridiculous beaches. I did not retouch any of these photos. If you can take that picture and zoom in, you can see they are white, yellow, red, orange and even purple.

We spent today on just one moped ( trying to save a few bucks instead of renting two) and we went from the southeast of Milos, from Paleochori beach( not the one with the orange rocks; I forget the name of that one :-)), through the center where there were many farms/farmers ( see pic) around to Sarakiniko beach ( the white rock beach), and to another rocky cove where we did some cliff diving! Well, ok, Troy did the cliff diving and cool backflips.... I obsessed standing over the cliff about whether the incoming waves would smash me onto a rock, whether it would burn, whether I would have a salt-water enema, whether there were sharks that would bite me, before stepping off the edge feet-first and screaming like a little girl.... :-O

The same little cove where we were jumping, had a beach with the most colorful pebbles I have ever seen. Some where bright orange and white, while others were lavander and yellow. Of course, I picked the prettiest two I could find, and now they are stowed away with us for good luck on the rest of our travels.

Tonight is our last night here in Milos, and in the Greek Isles. Tomorrow afternoon we take the sloooooooow-ass boat back to Pireaus, the port for Athens. We leave at 4pm and do not arrive until 12am! The blue star ferries do not come to Milos, as it is not a very touristed/popular island and so we have to make due with the less expensive "gangsta of the seas" ( Sascha will understand the reference) that takes its time going to 4 different islands before Athens.

Our host has confirmed our stay, and will not only offer us a place to sleep, but possibly a walking tour; which is very cool! Both Troy and I want to see the Acropolis and the Pantheon.

I don't think we'll have time to post tomorrow, as we'll be on the ship most of the day...But we will be able to get wifi in Omonia Square, which is the center of the city.

ps...Mom thank you for the package ( your continued love and help is so amazing) I am excited about rag mags ( who Jessica Simpson is hooking up with, and what new bag Lindsay Lohan is wearing; yes, I know its sad leave me alone >:-) , power bars, and walborne!
I'll try to call you from a place in Athens before we go...

To everyone else: thanks for tuning in :-)
xoxoxoxox

2006-05-16T01:10:00.000+07:00

Its a little after nine here in Milos, Greece ( a small island northwest of Santorini; in the Western Cyclades) and we had a wonderful day. Both Troy and I agreed this island far surpasses the natural beauty on Santorini ( if you can seriously imagine that; as I know you guys saw my pics). We had mopeds all day today, and went around the smallish island in just a few hours.

Last night went strangely smooth. We walked off the boat and a jolly, drunk Greek man who knew only "MY FRIENDS!" in English scooped us off the ramp off the ferry ( which did not land until 2:30 am--when it was supposed to land at 1am--they are on island-time here) and after a few Greek mutterings we arrived at a great little private hotel room.

It was clean, its very close to town, and just 20 euro a night...

The outside did not look like a normal hotel, but rather apartments, and we were a little confused in the morning when there is no office, no English-speakers, and we have no clue how to pay or request more days to stay. We wandered around looking lost for a while, and we found an old Greek woman who seemed to understand we were staying there??

I'm sure it would be quite entertaining for you all to watch us speaking English to her, and her Greek to us....you become an expert in sign-language-for -a**holes quickly.

After a short walk to town, we rented mopeds and started exploring.

Another Greek on Santorini said Milos was a little bigger than Santorini, which it is, but it doesn't seem like it as there are many roads inaccessible to mopeds/cars etc. The landscape oin the interior is very beautiful and arid; similar to Santorini. The island is a little flatter with no villages perched on the cliffs, like Oia....But there are amazing beauties in this island, as Troy and I discovered.

I'll need to do a bit of research on why, but the cliffs and rocks here are all brilliantly colored red, white, purple and even yellow. These colors mixed with the clearest blue water anywhere on the planet, and wildflowers all over, make an incredible spectacle. We also noticed there are millions and millions of bees, everywhere! Because the island is relatively deserted, when you are quiet you can hear the low hum of the bees when you get just outside of town. I have never heard anything like it..

I forgot the USB cable to my camera, but I'll bring it tomorrow and upload the photos we took today; as the photos speak a thousand words :)

We have to leave here on the afternoon of the 18th, and not the 20th as we planned...The ferries leave only on Thursday and Sunday, and we don't want to cut it too close with our flight. Troy is actually better with this plan, as he wanted a few more days to spend in Athens. We do have a lovely couchsurfing host, Pan, in Athens who will show us the sites and take us in for a few days before we hurtle off to Thailand.

Sorry no pics today, but I promise I will upload them all tomorrow.
Love you all and Happy Monday ;-)
xoxxoxoxoox

2006-05-14T23:42:00.000+07:00

Sunday Greetings :-) and a very happy Mother's Day....It is about 7:40pm Santorini time, and we write this from our favorite free wifi spot in front of Hotel Pelican !

We spent today back at Kamari beach, which is just north of Perissa beach on the other side of the cliffs. Another lazy, reading, chilling day... I think both of us are ready to see a new island, and explore new terrain. Santorini is pretty small, and in the short time we have been here, we have seen each and every corner-

The picture is of this delicious little puppy, whose Greek owner happened to find him on the side of the road yesterday. Thankfully, he told us he is taking him to the vet tomorrow for a check up, and then to his home...This is a lucky little guy, as many do not find homes. We have noticed that Greece (and Santorini in particular) has many strays; cats and dogs. Our hearts went out to these sweet guys as most of them were very personable but were dirty, had ticks/fleas and looked like they hadn't eaten in a while. Its hard to get used to dogs looking this way, when you don't ever see them in these numbers on the street at home in the states...

After passing puppy after puppy, we bought some dog food and water and strolled around giving the strays some nourishment. After about a half hour we had a bunch of new friends who were the sweetest things you'd ever met! We got a few weird looks from the store-owners who look annoyed with us, but I told Troy WHO CARES! We are feeding hungry puppies, who could seriously get mad at that--

I didn't want to give this little puppy in the pic back...he kept crawling into my lap and falling asleep. These guys definitely made us miss our pups back home ( JJ and Homer), but we know they are both in very loving, good hands ;-)

Troy just stocked up on cheap Greek beer and hopefully we will not need to sleep on the beach in Milos tonight...

Only a few more days ( 5 to be exact) and we have our Gulf Air flight to Bangkok by way of Bahrain. Luckily, we have delightful family friends Penny and Dan to receive us the second we land. I have heard landing in Bangkok as a lost tourist is as annoying as it is dangerous. We are so grateful to have locals to "teach" us how to navigate this city :)

Well, again to our beautiful mothers HAPPY MOTHERS DAY, and to the rest of our friends and loved ones....WE LOVE YOU

Until next time...

2006-05-12T22:25:00.000+07:00

Greetings All! Today I write from a delightfully "free" wifi spot outside of the Pelican Hotel in Fira, Santorini. We walked around with the laptop open scanning for a signal, and found a nice restaurant across the street from The Pelican...This is how I am uploading the pics to fotki ( finally). I had Mousakas, a traditional greek dish, which looks like a pot-pie, and inside is potatoes, eggplant, ground beef and cream. Troy had greek meatballs and rice, which have a different and delicious flavoring than any meatballs we've had.

We had to come here ( which was 30 minutes on a sweaty, tourist-stuffed bus) to get the ferry schedule and tickets for the other islands...as we have seen each nook and cranny of Santorini, and now we are fully relaxed, rested and ready for another island. We asked the manager and son of the owner of Armeni Village ( the place where we will stay one more night) which island he would suggest for us. Sifnos and Milos are the best, he said. Sifnos for the traditional greek masonry and Milos for the incredible beaches and colorful cliffs. The minerals apparently color the cliffs bright white, purple, yellow and green? Once in Milos, there are several ferries daily leaving to Sifnos...We'll see if we have enough time...If not, we'll just hang on the beaches in Milos.

So we need to stay two more nights in Santorni ( the ferry to Milos doesn't leave until Sunday night) and we will move from Oia to Fira as it is even less expensive.

Troy convinced me to try "adventure".

His definition ( at least in these circumstances) means taking the night ferry to Milos arriving at 1:30 am and not having accomodation booked. We will either be flogged with eager hotel salesmen, as we were upon arrival in Santorini ( but mind you this was 3pm not 130am) or we will "sleep-in-shifts" and then check into a hotel first thing in the morning :)

So, we don't have anything booked, and we'll see what plays out...

Since being here, we have done nothing but sleep in, read, lay out, check out the donkeys milling around, eat, lay out some more, and read some more. Very stressful as you can imagine ;-) I am well rested enough ( and will definitely be by Sunday) to try adventure, as he calls it.

We are both very excited about Milos as the Greeks say it has the best beaches in all of Greece....which is saying a lot. Just on this one island there are black and red sand beaches that are just gorgeous. Pics of both are on the fotki site now.

I've just finished some Greek coffee and ice cream concoction, and now we will stroll around Fira to bargain for a room and catch the sunset before heading back to Oia...

The sunsets here are the best I have ever seen in my life, topping California, Key West and even Hawaii. I guess there is just something about the way the sunset looks with the whitewashed buildings that makes everything look dreamy, mystical. See blog pic...took this last night from our balcony.

Well, until we pirate another wifi spot....

ALSO, I am assuming we will not immediately find internet in Milos ( as it usually takes us a day or two) so we wanted to wish our Mom's BARBARA and DEBBIE the best mother's day for 2006! Its a few days early, but we wanted to make sure both of you got the message :-)

WE LOVE YOU VERY MUCH!

Cheers!

xoxoxoxoxox

2006-05-10T14:55:00.000+07:00

In my fervor to get these pics and blog out to you all, I forgot to mention where the hell we were!!! Ruba wrote to me saying it looks awesome, but where are you? Absolute paradise, my beautiful little rock-chick. Bring your guitar and we'll do Dead Vanity-Greek Isle style :)

Not that it matters where we are, what day/time it is ;-) but we are in a town called Oia, Island called Santorini ( Thira ) in the Greek Islands. When we hopped the 8 hour ferry ride from Athens ( mind you after a 5 hour train to Bari, and 15.5 hour ferry to Patras, and 2.5 hour bus ride to Athens) knowing only that Santorini was an island in Greece. Embarrassingly, neither Troy nor I knew exactly where this sumptuous little island was. Turns out we are the furthest island south in the cluster of Cyclades before you reach Crete.

As I mentioned before, the island is very small. This is such a cool quality, as we know from our handy Europe map ( which Robert kindly bestowed), because the closest island is 4 hours away! The cluster of small islands that make up Santorini are volcanic, and the volcano ( which is not active) is in the center.

Yesterday we rode on mopeds for the entire day to check out the island at our own pace. Surprisingly, 2 euro of gas allowed us 8 hours of riding and discovery. We put on jackets and helmets, thinking we would not need to buy sunblock. At the end of the day, Troy had cool "x" marks sunburned onto the top of his foot ( from his Chaco sandals) and I had red rectangles burned onto the top of my thighs. The sun is very strong here...and even when its not hot enough to make you sweat, you will get fried!

Today we move out of the hostel in Perissa Beach ( which was awesome by the way-stones throw to the black sand beach) and go north to Oia. The picsture in the blog is from the inside of the place we will stay there....The view is crappy as you can see :P
It was an insane deal for this apartment, which is really a cave built into the mountain. We were lucky in getting the one which is closest to the ocean, and we actually have an ocean view!!!

We leave in an hour to catch the bus up there, because I think riding mopeds with our backpacks on these steep windy roads might not be good. Hopefully the Oia hotel has internet!

xoxoxoxo
Love you

2006-05-08T14:18:00.000+07:00

There aren't words....so I decided to post all of these to the blog....That and its easier than trying to upload over 300 pics to fotki...For the rest, well you guys just have to wait :-) Until we can find another fast, "free" internet connection, which probably won't be until back in Athens, which will be May 20th.

It REALLY looks just like this, only I feel these pictures do not do this place justice. Around each corner is a photo-op

We have gone into "vacation-mode", finally! The weather is warm, the locals are laid-back and pleasant, and its CHEAP!! We were so surprised when we found this out. Venice, also an isolated, heavily-visited area, had insane prices resulting from the need to send everything in by boat. Here, where the same applies, from everything from gas, clothing, food etc, its cheap? We each bought 500ml of beer ( which is like two big bottles in one) for .90 euro, our stay in the hostel here ( which is less than 50 m from black-sanded Perissa Beach, is 6 euro each per night, and fresh bread from the bakery down the street is .60 euro. You can see why the New Zealand folks in the room with us have forgotten the rest of their european itinerary planning to get jobs and stay here indefinitely.

The culture is very different. Think arabian-nights meets bob-marley?? The locals have sincerely welcomed us. We felt happily received by the hostel staff, all of the bars/restaurants have genuinely nice greeks, and we even had one greek woman drive us back and forth in Oia assisting us to find a few cheap nights there.

There are no crowds ( now, anyway ;-) ) in this season. We hear from the locals it becomes a maddening throng of obnoxious tourists late summer ( probably the same jerky-peeps elbowing us a few days ago) Thankfully, we are experiencing it in the same way the first travelers did before it became a commonplace destination. Troy and I had our own private black sand beach over looking the gorgeous cliffs in the background...Not a soul around. This is exactly what I envisioned when I dreamed up this trip.

Nothing to do, nowhere to go.....the only thing to do is relax in the sun and enjoy being ALIVE!!

Tomorrow we are both going to rent scooters and see what little nooks and crannies we can discover all on our own, as this is our favorite thing to do in a new place, especially when we can be all alone.

Hopefully soon I can post more pics...

Mom, we WILL be here together one day. I promise.

Love you all
xoxoxoxoxo

2006-05-06T02:14:00.000+07:00

we post this from a street corner at 1015pm, after walking with the laptop "wifi scan" to find this "free" internet :)

Our trip from Bari could not have been more perfect. We arrived on time ( a little tired) then bought our tickets for the ferry to Patras. The boat was only 30% capacity so they upgraded our cabin for free and we had an ocean view and huge room with private bath, similar to on any cruise ship in the states....I took pics which I will upload from Santorini if I can find internet.

Troy and I both slept very well, and we got our bus tickets to Athens directly onboard...Very convenient! Then we had a leisurely bus ride along the gorgeous Greek coastline which looks similar to California's 1 highway but more arid, and blue-er water.

We arrived in Athens and got our hostel for the night with ease...We were worried as it is Friday night here.

Tomorrow we leave at 5am to go board another cruise ship to Santorini!

We will have pics soon.

xoxoxoxoxox

2006-05-04T00:59:00.000+07:00

As our last full day in Rome creeps closer, and my mom’s stay with us comes to an end, both Troy and I have reflected at how lucky we are to have each other and our parents. We are truly blessed and happy.

I blogged about this a few days ago, but as I have had time to let the days of the trip settle in my mind, I realize ( in spades) how many amazing loved ones are in my life, and how perfect everything is for both of us. Even through stress (mostly mine) my mom remained calm, comforting and upbeat. She and Troy made this visit to Rome unforgettable. I know we will all remember this for the rest of our lives.

From riding packed subway trains with 100 lbs of luggage, our apartment landlord making a huge currency exchange mistake upon arrival (to the tune of $400 extra) fun with translation while trying to buy a camera, fun with translation while trying to explain why I wanted to return the same camera a day later, dangerous/rude drivers, wasting money on transit because of union strikes, and missing hotel reservations on the eve of a huge holiday, my mom made the more difficult moments seem as miniscule as they actually were.

Many who know me well know that I have a short fuse and a hard time dealing with stressful situations. In the month of travel (most poignantly with my mom in Rome) I have realized that dealing calmly in all situations will make your trip better; regardless of how f*@$*ed you seem at the time. This may seem common sense to a lot of you, however, this ability has not come easily to me. I have seen this credo in action 10-fold on this trip. I have also seen that things will, inevitably, go wrong…No matter how much you plan. This has been a huge exercise in self-restraint, letting go and patience for me; areas where I have lots of room for improvement J

I think this destination more than any other so far, has been loaded with twists and momentary obstacles which have succeeded in raising my blood pressure, sometimes to the extent that I stopped enjoying the trip…Now, how ridiculous you say? How silly to let anger ruin any part of the trip of a lifetime! Well, slowly but surely I am realizing that wherever I go, there I am; whether that is on a yacht in the Mediterranean, in a café in Paris, or hiking in the Alps or as a “number” in a cube in corporate America ;-) Mindset and attitude can make even the worst situation 1000% times better.

Tomorrow we will say goodbye to mom and put her on her plane with sadness She has truly made this trip the best it could be. We love her impossibly, deeply and always!!!! Ciao Bella!

This morning we left the hotel very early ( well 8am) in hopes of skipping the long lines at the Vatican Museum. No such luck! We were surprised how packed the subway was ( smelly armpit-to-face packed) so early, as it seemed the Italians report to work later than in the States. Anyway, the line moved surprisingly fast for the amount of people, and Troy guessed it was due to it being empty and needing to be filled up right away.

We made a beeline to the Sistine Chapel which is the most amazing thing I have ever seen with Michelangelo's frescoes on the front wall and ceiling. Bottacelli also did two wall frescoes which were vivid and beautiful. We slyly got pics of the paintings without flash, and they came out amazingly. The new camera did very well today! :-) Email me if you'd like copies for x-mas cards or something.... Yes, I DID take the pic from the blog. The colors in the restored frescoes are breathtaking. The camera seems to dull them just a bit. Even with the heat, the lines and swarming people, seeing the Sistine Chapel made everything worth it!

Tonight we need to make Eurostar reservations for the train trip to Bari ( 5 hours) and then the Ferry to Patras.

2006-05-02T15:44:00.000+07:00

Seeing a city at the pace we have seen Rome is the best thing a traveler can do. When we first dreamed this trip, we listed must-see cities and timelines in each one. Obviously, as a newbie traveler, you want to see as much as you can; We did quit our jobs and lives to do this, you know...

So in picking out the countries and cities, we found ourselves pressed with time to see everything before our flight to Asia. If I can make any suggestions to someone backpacking or even taking a few weeks to see a place: TAKE YOUR TIME!! There are so many little stresses with moving each couple of days from financial, physical and logistical. Even if you are seeing these famous cities at lightning speed, you are not really in "vacation" mode....It felt more like work, to be honest. From waiting in lines for trains, mistakes with lodging or hosts, getting up very early, and going to bed very late to see everything, first-timers ( as we are/were) are usually too ambitious to enjoy themselves. Rome with my mom has taught me to take time to slowly enjoy the place.

In any case, this is our 8th day, and I feel we have really seen much of what Rome has to offer. Tomorrow we buck up and brave the 3 + hour line to see the VaticanMuseum and Sistine Chapel....and with that we will have seen all the major sites.

I can't imagine doing the city in our protocol 4 days....

Yesterday, Mom convinced me ( kicking and screaming) to take one of those double-decker open-topped busses that careeens around Roman corners packed to the brim with tourists. I have to admit, I did enjoy it. A lot :-) The weather was picture perfect, not too warm and not too cold. The sun made it quite enjoyable, although both Troy and Mom were upset I decided to listen to Madonna instead of the tour guide :-P Mom was by herself for the first few stops, then a heavyset woman stuffed her brimming booty into the seat next to hers....Can't win them all

Today we are going to do a river ride, and then check out the mouth of truth. The river ride is a bargain 2.5 euro for the whole day!! I think anything to conserve cash at this point is good. Mom has been helpful and generous and we can't imagine Rome without her.

The church you see in the pic is a little known one to foreigners. The Santa Maria Magiore is absolutely incredible with similar elements as St. Paul's in London, and St Peter's in Vatican City. The church was not crowded, and absolutely flawless. We noticed the pyramid with an eye in the center ( for those of you who read the Da Vinci Code ), which was very cool!

The car was a luxury version of the smart car, ( with a custom design on the side; courtesy of the Roman taggers) as you can see from the picture. What you do in a vehicle like this I don't know....

Tomorrow is our last full day before dropping mom at the airport at 5 am ( now I know why the flight was discounted!! ) and then catching our our train to Bari....Then from Bari the ferry to Patras, Greece, which takes 15.5 hours :-/ After that, we take a 3 hour bus ride to Athens, then spend the night before catching a ferry to the Greek Isles. We will be in sore need of chilling on the beach after a travel day like that.

Today is also Wayne's birthday....wanted to wish Wayne ( Dad) a great day!! Enjoy, we love ya!

2006-05-01T17:01:00.000+07:00

Yes, it's true...Today is ANOTHER holiday. May Day. So, you say? Well, because of this lovely holiday, our reservation at Casa Dell Olmata was no good, as their rooms were overbooked, due to the shady hotel manager who claimed there were children in the rooms. I assumed his other friends were in town for the festival and he would rather put them up than us...After finding out our hotel reservation was not good, and logging on to the internet to see that there were no other hotel openings because of this holiday, we began to get a little nervous. Mom confided that she didn't think she could make it one night on the street!

Thankfully, Mom was a better sweet talker to the bald, fat desk guy than I would have been ( you *(&**@*@*#@^!!!), and she managed to get him to call other nearby hotels and somehow get an opening we couldn't get on our own. Thank goodness!

After the room debacle yesterday the weather cleared up....as if our travel angels were once again determined for us to have a good time despite. We toured the Palatine, the Forum and the Colliseum....A tip for all who tour the Colliseum: Buy your tickets at the Palatine ( they are also good for the Colliseum) people wait hours at the Colliseum when the line at he Palatino is usually less than 5 people!

We wandered through the old city again at dusk, and the light was gorgeous. After that we headed to the subway ( which FYI closes at 9pm) to get to the Spanish steps for pics. Unfortunately, right now, there is scaffolding up, and the light was a little too low to get a good pics, so we'll probably head back today.

We wandered for another few hours until finding outdoor dining by the Pantheon. We dined for 2.5 hours!! Caprese, salads, minestrone, bread, pasta, wine and dessert!! It was the best food we have had so far in Italy :)

Walking home, Troy showed my mom how white boys danced, and we both had to fight not to pee our pants....We imagined Clemens' shovel move and Troy's point-squat-clap move together on one dance floor....

Today were doing our laundry and checking out the May Day festivities...
Ciao'

2006-04-30T05:16:00.000+07:00

Even though the rain seems to be sticking with us ( despite the false weather reports of sunshine) we are still having a blast here.

This morning we spent an hour trying to explain why I wanted to return the Nikon I bought the day before. Thankfully, another Italian who spoke English came to my aid to translate...and I finally got my wish, a viewfinder :) So now I have a new camera which is 7.1 megapixels and has a viewfinder...its awesome, and took some cool pics today...

After the camera incident, we took the subway down to Trevi fountain, and even in the rain hordes of people were milling around tossing coins over their heads, and snapping picture after picture...Hey, I am no different :-) We spent a half hour elbowing other people out of the way for pics, and had a fun time slipping and sliding through the puddles.

Mom met another Italian man who chased after us, wildly calling " my heart boom boom for you"....No, I'm not kidding! The men are very forward here...

After a nice lunch of caprese, pizza and vino, we headed out to Piazza Venezia. This building is absolutely enormous. Called the wedding cake here in Rome, this massive marble building was was commissioned by Victor Emanuel ( the 1st king) as an homage to himself!! How conceited eh? It is quite the spectacle, and looks very beautiful with the ancient Roman ruins just across the way. See picture...

We then trotted down to the Colliseum, and down to Circus Maximus, which is where the chariot races were held..with seating for more than 300,000 spectators!! Now it is just a big field, but it was cool to hang out on the lawn, and check out pics of what it looked like in its hey day.

The rain began on our subway ride to the Spanish steps, and after seeking refuge ( and a few cappuccinos) in a place called Babbington's, we happened to open a menu and see the price of 20 dollars US for a cup of tea!!?!

The pouring rain didn't stop most tourists, or us, so we continued down what must have been Rome's Rodeo Drive ( past Gucci, Prada, Hermes) we found a more affordable place to have gelato and cappuccinno....Mom REALLY liked them and had 3!

After that we got stuffed tomatoes for dinner, and lots of sweets...I love Italian pastries. Mom lit candles, put on Andrew Lloyd Webber, and we drank champagne in the comfort of our last night in this glorious apartment. It really is romantic here :)

Tomorrow we go to the hostel ( which is still a private room-which my mom insisted on) and off to delve further into the Forum and Colliseum

2006-04-29T02:35:00.000+07:00

I am the luckiest person in the world, truly. Ok, most of you reading this probably think its because we are traveling around the world...and while yes, that is part of it, what I really feel blessed about is my loved ones. Meeting my mother in Rome has been the absolute best. She is so considerate, loving, motherly, and giving to both Troy and I; she is making Rome more like home! While we have encountered our stressful moments like Italian transport strikes, me getting sick, finding the apartment, communicating with the locals, my mom and Troy have both been amazing to be around.

Meeting her was a little tricky as we had no internet ( contrary to the ad for the hostel) and no communication the days before she was to arrive. She knew I knew when her flight was, but other than that we had no real plan for meeting. Unfortunately, the designers of the Da Vinci airport didn't think to put arrival and departure screens in all common areas, and the airport personnel didn't care to include all flights, so you can imagine the hide-and-seek-fun of searching the airport for hours most of the time just feet from each other :-)

After we ( *ahem* Troy) carried my mom's MONGO hardtop suitcase through the cobblestone streets of Rome for a bit, we thankfully arrived at our gorgeous Vatican Apartment. Its really big; sleeps five and with a washing machine, YAY!

That night we went to dinner in a small trattoria where Mom was accosted ( well really it was more of an aggressive sexual leg thrust?) by the owner who had the hots for her. Unfortunately ( or fortunately??) he spoke no English. He simply returned to the table every 2-3 minutes for another free shot of Lemoncello, uttering sexually "limonchello, cheen cheen", which is Italian for "cheers"...

Today we were surprised with an Italian strike ( we are fast learning that Europe has a lot of holidays, and a lot of strikes) of all public transit, so our plans to check the colliseum were dashed, as we were all the way west by the Vatican.

We walked around St Peter's cathedral, St Angelo's Castle ( where we found Antonio Banderas' twin working the door)and down to Piazza Navona and past the Pantheon. The rain was intermittant, thankfully, and we were able to stay dry the entire day :)

Mom cooked a delicious italian meal ( pasta and garlic bread) MMMMM, and we had a wonderful time joking and chatting. I love home cooked meals :)

Tomorrow we will try to brave the ridiculous line for the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel...

2006-04-27T20:23:00.000+07:00

we're in Rome now, at our lovely apartment, no wifi though....more about Florence and picking Mom up in Rome soon....camera has totally crapped out, so I have to fork out money for a new one. Stay tuned!

xoxoxoxo

2006-04-25T03:54:00.000+07:00

Today was our last full day in Venice and we had an amazing time. We are learning a lot about how to enjoy very touristy cities/areas....

Surprisingly, most tourists do not venture away from the over-priced, crowded ghettos built for them. You pay triple or even quadruple for the same things, and you have to deal with every loud, smelly, lost, fanny-pack-clad tourist who had the same idea for vacation as you did...
>:-/ Luckily, Troy and I both dislike crowds, and we decided there must be somewhere better to be. Just a short 5 minute walk further into the city, we came upon the classic, narrow streets of the real Venice. Colorful sheets and clothes blowing in the breeze across windows above our heads, echoing voices of Venetians cooking lunch or having a drink, lazy pets sprawled out on stoops in the sun....Not a single tourist ( ok maybe just one or two), and we were all to ourselves...Just the way we like to be.

After stuffing ourselves with real pizza :-), I had artichoke, ham and mushrooms Troy had a cheese and tomato, we wandered further, stumbling onto a bored Gondolier who offered us a 10 euro discount from the going rates we told him about.... bargain, bargain, bargain...

Any one visiting Venice, even a budget traveler MUST do this. It was incredibly romantic and relaxing. The perfect way to kiss, suntan or just have some quiet time. In the canals, even though you are frequently in a gondola traffic jam, it is remarkably serene. The only sounds were the water lapping at the boat and a gondolier ahead singing Italian love songs.

After our 40 minutes of romance :-D we wandered back to the train station to make our reservation on the Eurostar to Florence....

We wanted to try Siena ( the smaller, lesser known Tuscan art town) but the logistics of train travel and then meeting mom in Rome were just too difficult.

So tomorrow, we will write from Florence!!

The pic is for the beautiful TATUM ( aka TATO-SALAD, TATO-HEAD, PO-TATUM) She is turning four years old !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET HEART!! We love you :-)

We also have a belated birthday Venetian gift coming to Debbie :-) Look in the mail, ok??

PS, thank you to everyone who is communicating through our website posts...Although we haven't had the time to write emails back, we get each and every one of those comments. Thank you all so much. It feels like we are still together!

PPS, to Maki, Paul, and Ruba can you email your addresses to visceraltext@yahoo.com? we got you all postcards, and didnt have your complete address, so you'll have to excuse us sending German postcards from Greece :-P

LOVE YOU ALL :-)
Ciao'

2006-04-23T15:59:00.000+07:00

After the 13 hour night train ride from Vienna to Venice ( with the unhappy German infant, her mom and grandmom) Troy and I learned to never, EVER, take night trains :-) Let our lesson be lessons to you all!

Needless to say, we did arrive in the incredible Venice with enough raw excitement ( that was the only thing keeping us going after a completely sleepless night) to explore the city in great depths yesterday.

Stepping out of Santa Lucia station in the crystal-clear, warm morning is the best feeling both of us have had so far on this trip. All of the buildings were still bathed in that famous golden-glow Venice has at dawn and dusk. Tens of gondolas and canoes were being paddled through the grand canal past our "bus", which is really just another big boat. The air was crisp, but warm enough for my tank top. It was really, really, really nice!

Chugging through the waters to our first stop ( which I don't recall the name) was the best decision we made. It was actually a mistake, as we took the ferry the wrong direction and missed the Zacarias stop, which is the famous San Marco plaza. We ended up on the north outside shore of Venice, and strolled through the somewhat local neighborhood ( local means only half tourists instead of 100% ;-) ) lazing around with our sodas and taking random pictures of hanging laundry, lethargic dogs, and of course the famous canal bridges.

We walked through San Marco square, and Troy was amazed at the amount of pigeons everywhere. We both knew this area was famous for the pigeons, but what they don't tell you is there is an absolute swarm of them in every part of the sqaure. We used our vanilla Leibniz cookies ( hey those are MINE!! :-)) to break into crumbs and feed them...Troy had 4 on his arms at one point...

The streets here are so tiny, if you eat too much, you might not be able to go everywhere. Troy and I had a wonderful time getting completely lost in these little nooks and crannies. We found a little cafe charging an "affordable" 3 euro for a coffe and 4 euro for a local beer....No I am not kidding! Venice prices seem to top even London's, which is really ridiculous. But, I am not fretting, as we are only here for a few days, and we are watching our dollars in the faithful orange budget book Troy has diligently compiled. We have been grocery shopping for our breakfast, lunch and dinner, and once per place, we eat out a local meal.

We enjoyed our drinks in the sun, with delicious mini ciabbatta bread sandwiches with olives, peppers, sundried -tomatoes, basil, brie, procuitto ( sp?), WOW the food is really good....

Then we made our way back to the train station to Padova. Padova, you say? Yes, Padova...Our first host, the chef from Jesolo, never wrote us back :-( So we were lucky to meet Tiziano, a lovely local who gladly took us in.

After arriving in Padova a 30 minute train ride west, we went to have apertif's and then pizza with Tiziano and two of his high school buddies, now classmates in college. We were amazed at the amount of college students out and about all drinking their camparis, or apperol ( I know I'm spelling that wrong) before going to eat pasta. Funny, because when I was in college, I was chugging bud light and eating Taco Bell at 2am :-O

We had a great time with them talking about couchsurfing, our travels so far, and advice for sightseeing here.

Today, it's another perfect day...I think I will wear SHORTS!! The first time on this trip--

Talk to you guys again soon,

xoxoxox

2006-04-21T00:10:00.000+07:00

Today was an absolute picture-perfect day: About 73 degrees with the sun shining, and no wind. We couldn't have asked for anything better! We had a late start though; slept in until 1030 as we were up until 1am last night again :-o

Evelyn's friend Anita invited us to her apartment, and cooked us pasta with BearLech ( spelling?), which is the same leaf I wrote about from Germany. She made a delicious pesto with it, including some pine nuts and parmesean cheese. Very, very good...

We ate with Evelyn's other house-guest, Johnny, a Malaysian student studying in Singapore, on foreign exchange in Sweden...hehhe, yes that took a second to figure out :-P But he was on a break from school, and decided to travel Eastern Europe and end in Vienna. He had to drive all the way to Budapest to get a flight back to Stockholm, which sucks :-( We hope to meet up with him again when we are in Asia. Johnny, let's keep in touch!

Anyway, Evelyn, Troy, Johnny, Anita and I all shared funny stories about traveling, houseguests and snoring. Anita confessed she had one guest who snored so badly she was considering sleeping outside of her apartment on a matress in the hallway!!

So we returned home not too late, but then Evelyn showed us some videos of 2 Romanian roomates she had, studying Music ( the violin) in Vienna. Needless to say, they were incredibly talented, and only 19 years old...

The more we travel, the more Troy and I realize how much we have to learn, and how many gifts we are given.

Today we had a leisurely day renting out the city bikes. This is such a great system. There are about 20 stations throughout Vienna, and you can pick up/drop off a bike at any of these places. The bike is free for the first hour, and then 1 euro for each hour afterwards. This makes great sense for a place like San Francisco...Although the bikes would need gears ( these ones had only one gear >:-/ We will use our city bike card tomorrow too, before getting on to our night train.

We then went to see the Viennese Regalia, which included many pieces from the Holy Roman Empire, see pic. Troy is wearing the burger-king version of the most famous and prized coronation crown in Austria, which is about 1000 years old. Its slightly more impressive than the paperboard version crowing Troy in the giftshop.... :-)

We strolled through this amazing museum checking out all the old mantels, orbs, and swords of the past monarchies. Some very interesting pieces like the legendary unicorn horn ( which is not really from a unicorn ;-) ) and an agate bowl which was said to be the holy grail, but dates from 200 AD. There is a mysterious inscription which was not cut or inlaid into the bowl, which spells out Christ's name....I couldn't really see it though:-)

We also joked at the amount relics which claimed to have pieces of the original cross in them....There were about 20 in that museum alone ;-)

After that, we got some ice cream, and strolled through the streets in the sunshine, enjoying the Viennese late afternoon.

Tomorrow we leave on the night train to Venice. We have a gracious host, Tizano, for the last three days, but for the first one, Troy and I will find out how campgrounds in Italy are. Supposedly, they are quaint and clean, but we shall see! I am a little aprehensive about it, but I guess this is adventure, right?

We will write in another few days from Venice!

Tune in next time..

2006-04-18T16:55:00.000+07:00

Five days since our last post, sorry about that!! We have been on the move and unable to access the internet from Robert's house in Neuberg.

We got up early two days ago and drove down to Neuswangau to the famous and beautiful Neuswanstein castle built by Ludvig II. Before getting down there (the drive was about 3 hours) we stopped at one of the most famous baroque churches in Germany, the Wieskirche. We were fortunate enough to attend Easter service there with all of the locals. Unfortunately they don't allow pictures, or we would have snapped a few. The roof was white with carvings of angels and flowers at the edges of the domes and walls. Each dome had its own fresco painted in pastel colors; absolutely breathtaking. At the front altar and each side altar they had enormous marble carved pillars which were decorated with gold and wood. I feel so lucky we were able to attend during a huge religious holiday to hear the choir and priest with the people.

It was only another hour and a half to Neuswangau. Neuswanstein is the castle Walt Disney used as a model for the Disneyland theme park. As you can see it looks right off the pages of a fairytale.

Unfortunately the castle was never finished. Ludvig II was labeled insane and unfit to rule by a psychologist, and then the next day was found dead with his doctor in a lake. No one knows the real story behind the death, if it was a murder or suicide. Only 1/3 of the castle was completed. If you could see the detail in the castle walls and paintings ( which was dedicated 100% to famous composer and friend Wagner) you would understand why in 17 years it still was not finished!!

Robert was incredible and dropped us off to take the 35 minute tour of the completed rooms, and then picked us up at the end.

It was entertaining watching a few japanese girls in high heels and leggings trying to make their way up and down the inclined path covered with snow and mud. >:-) We even saw one lady dressed in heels and white pants take a spill and covering herself in mud--

After the castle, we completed our scenic Bavarian tour with a drive through a few small

villages before arriving in Sonthofen; where Seppe and Erika ( Oma and Opa) live. Oma showed us all of the fruits, vegetables and spices she was growing in her gorgeous garden overlooking the German Alps and then brought out the Sauerkraut and Fleish ( meat) she prepared for us. We talked for hours before retiring in our own little apartment downstairs from theirs.

The next day we bid adieu to our incredible host/uncle Robert in Munich. We still had a whole day before our train to Vienna so we decided to check the city out on foot. Luckily, we had a picture perfect day ( 70 degrees and sunny) to peruse the major Munich sites. We even got a little video of the Glockenspiel guys dancing around :-) Troy loved it!

Check our picture site for all the new photos.

Later, we caught the train to Vienna ( 1st class baby!)...and Luckily we were safe in our leather seats when the holiday rush came on at Salzburg. Many had to just sit on the floor for the entire trip :-(

At the train station, our lovely Viennese host Evelyn met us with a few buddies and we were off to have dinner, drinks and unwind from the day ( see picture). Simultaneously, we heard English, Spanish and German being spoken. We met a 26 year old Hungarian guy who had two Bachelors, 1 Masters and finishing TWO PhDs. Adam could also speak 4 languages!!! So needless to say, we were both amazed and inspired by him:-))

Today we have our first day in Vienna. It is about 12:15 here now, and we have taken our time getting up, doing some laundry and showering. Now the sun is in full brilliance, and we need to go take some pics :-)

Tonight is the ballet at the Staatsoper ( Vienna Operahouse)....

Not to forget our list of interesting things to know for first timers to Germany....

1. "bitte" can mean please, your welcome, or "HUH?!" when you didn't hear something

2. Germany has 16 states ranging from large ( like Bavaria) to small city-states ( like Hamburg)

3. It wasn't until the last 150 years that Germany was under one rule; starting with the German Reich

4. They have McCafe added on to their McDonalds ( see pics on fotki), which has a fireplace, leather seats and even plasma TV screens to enjoy while eating your BigMac and coffee

5. The easter Boch beer ( dark and sweet) was invented when hungry monks ( fasting from Ash Wednesday to Easter) had to nourish themselves. It is delicious, and I enjoyed the doppelbock even more!

6. Sauerkraut doesn't start out sour, but sweet! It takes about 3-6 months of fermentation to get that sour taste in Sauerkraut

7. Each and every small cluster of houses, has its very own ancient church and castle.

8. Buy a large pack of "Knoppers" immediately on arrival....trust me on this one

9. You can get a good wine for $4 euro

10. If you go to a grocery store ( Lidl, Aldi, Spar, Mini Mal) they do not give you a bag for your things. If you just have a few items, and want a bag without paying extra, get a piece of fruit, and then use the bag they give you for the rest of your stuff

We have internet at Evelyn's so we can post again tomorrow-

Love you all!

2006-04-14T03:03:00.000+07:00

Today we had a leisurely start with scrambled eggs with peppers at 1030am, then off for a nature walk past the old Lord of Neuburg's hunting castle. It was designed with a line-of-sight from the castle to the hunting quarters, similar to the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre in Paris. The walk started by the hunting castle and went through the forest for three miles We saw wild geese, hunting stands, trees cut by beavers, and BearLeek, which is a grass that smells and tastes like garlic. Robert said in a few more weeks many people will be there to pick and cook with it.

The day was as cold as it looks, starting to sprinkle us with a little rain, but the nature was ( as you can see) absolutely beautiful. There is definitely an ancient air in these woods, and its interesting that people have hunted in the same few spots for over 400 years.

We then drove to get a cappuccinno ( there is an extra p, c or n in there somewhere?) and butter pretzel...Robert was horrified that Americans eat mustard with their preztels; he asserted this is not the Bavarian way ;)

Tomorrow will be another relaxing day, lazing around and getting energy for the next busy days which lay ahead. To Sontofen, then Neuswanstein, then possibly Passau to a train in Vienna. We have a lovely host Evelyn for our short stay in Vienna, and then we stay with a chef in Jesolo, outside of Venice.

Our prayers are with Wayne and Debbie....We know Wayne will have a speedy recovery; WE LOVE YOU BOTH!
Until next time....

2006-04-13T01:33:00.000+07:00

Today was our first full day with Robert ( bobo) in Neuberg. Yesterday we stayed in an Ibis hotel, which is similar to a Best Western in the states. I had cream cheese pancakes with vanilla sauce for dinner and breakfast, and Troy stuck to his seemingly favorite so far, ham and cheese. After struggling with the hotel manager because our bill jumped 40% from the price we were quoted, we hailed a cab to the train station. At first we tried for the bus, but after standing outside for a few minutes in the 20 degree snow, we decided it was easier to just pay for a direct ride :)

We arrived after a 1st class, quick train ride from Salzburg to Munich.

It was COLD; So cold, Troy and I put on everything we had with us, and it was not enough! While we waited at the station (which is outside), it started to snow...quite heavily. We found a small lounge room which was heated, next to the platform, and inside we met two lovely southern women, from Mississippi. They were amazed we were planning to travel for a year with only small backpacks! Admittedly, they were frustrated with the size of their luggage, and with finding things. One of the ladies said she sent home two boxes of things after arriving :)

They were best friends, widows, off taking a European cruise down the Danube. Due to the floods, the boats were unable to continue on several legs of the journey, and today they returned home to the states today. They let us know that our Eurail passes were good to travel 1st class! Very good thing to know---It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jones and please keep in touch--

Robert met us at the Munich station, and we took the subway back to his car a few stops away. Then we drove the rest of the way back to Neuburg. He took us to a Gasthaus (guesthouse) where Troy had a Weizenbier, and I had my new favorite, a Radler. A Radler is beer mixed with lemonade....They were invented on accident, after a bar owner ran out of beer. He decided to mix beer with lemonade and so the Radler was born!

Annika and Julia prepared a classic Bavarian dish : Leberkäse ( which translates to Liver cheese, but its not liver or cheese), feldsalat, ( one of Clemens' favorites) with mustard and kartoffelsalat or potato salad....It was incredible! Any German food in the states does not compare with the real thing, cooked fresh over here.

Troy and I ate very well, and then stayed up until 1am chatting with Julia, and Bobo about politics, sports, and travel. We had a lovely time, and then off to our own bed, own bedroom ( what a luxury when you are a budget traveler!)

Today, Robert made us breakfast of meats, cheese, yogurt and breads. Delightful to have breakfast prepared for you before you are even awake :)

Then, after a much needed load of laundry, we headed out on a drive by the Altmühltal, passing Eichstätt, and many other small Bavarian towns, all equipped with token cliffs, forests, castles and church towers. Every small village we passed through looked to be right off the pages of a fairytale. Troy and I both had a blast listening to tidbits of history courtesy of Bobo tours :)

After our long tour Robert wanted to get stuff to cook pasta with shrimp, and we stopped at Aldi. This grocery store is the cheapest I have ever seen. I took a photo of the wine section, which sells wine from 1.19 to 4.99 Euro. Robert says, surprisingly, this is all good wine! The US heavily marks up food and wine. Check our picture site for this photo...

Tomorrow I think we will plan the last leg of our tour to see Erika and Seppe ( Oma and Opa) then to Neuswanstein, Passau ( home of the Peschl Brewery) and then on a slow train to Vienna.

Bis Dann, Tsuse !

2006-04-11T00:31:00.000+07:00

We arrived in Salzburg today, and are staying at a hotel by ourselves tonight! The couchsurfer we planned to stay with lives a bit further from the city than we knew and it would have been too difficult to try to train-bus to her place then back to go to Munich a few days after. Hopefully it will be sunny tomorrow so we can get a few minutes of the city sightseeing in before we venture off to Munich to stay with my uncle and cousins.

Last night we stayed with Peter and Nat who were very kind and interesting, both expats ( Nat of Canada and Peter of the US)...They gave us our own warm room and bed away from the rainy chilly night. Thank you guys so much!!!

Troy and I both decided we wanted to follow our last day in Paris' post with a list of important-interesting-weird things a first-timer to London should know:

1. The post office boxes are red
2. when people ask "Are you all right", it's a greeting....not asking if you really are all right
3. MIND THE GAP, is something you will hear until exhaustion in the underground
4. The exchange rate from US dollars, SUCKS!!! about 1.75 to 1 pound
5. In the summer the underground gets over 90 degrees, and they have had engineering competitions for years trying to figure out how to get air pumped so far below ground
6. "init" to Londoners is "eh" to Canadians
7. Football is soccer, not football, don't F with Manchester United or Chelsea
8. fries are chips and chips are crisps
9. you can't ever get away from a McDonalds, Starbucks, Subway or Pizza Hut
10. The Queen is 80
11. you can't deface her image, or you could be thrown in jail!
12. its as close to America as International travels gets
12. In the states, gas is either for your car, or coming out of your body. In England, and many places in Europe for that matter, gas is carbonation...so be prepared to answer if you want your water "with or without gas"....A very strange question to hear the first time!

The pics are from London to Salzburg....Troy passed out on the Stanstead express on the way to the airport, and we found GIGANTIC chocolate bars in the airport. I have never seen these sizes in the states..

We will write more soon :)
Tsuse! ( did I spell that right???) heheheh

2006-04-09T18:50:00.000+07:00

Ok, I just have to say this! Never stay at hostel 639 off Kensal Green tube stop!!!

We left our comparatively luxury room in the center of London at St. Christopher's to have our "alone"day yesterday...and when we arrived at around 8pm ( after a 40 minute train ride out from the city), we wanted to have our money back.

The shower was inside the dorm room ( which proved difficult for dressing and keeping the room temp comfortable), the bathrooms were dirty and crowded, and there were mongaloids galore, similar to the DMV, milling shadily about. The blankets looked as if they were never washed, and when Troy took his usual post at top bunk, I feared the rusty coils' ability to hold him up through the night. It was a commercial for where you do not want to stay...We did meet some cute Swedish folks who were visiting friends in London. They told us about their trip to India, how to dress, and a little beach town near Goa to visit :-) Keep in touch you guys!!!

In any case, Troy and I both decided about every week or so, we would have our "alone" day...Time to relax, do what we want, and take a break from the 24 hours a day we spend together. Both of us agreed we had a good time. Troy saw the changing of the guards ( I went to Buckingham with the same intention, however swarms of aggressive folks turned me off, and I ventured into the park-see picture) somehow getting to the front gates through the crowd and actually getting some good video. As soon as I figure out how to post video on our site, I will :-))

We then took similar trails, at different times, through the city, to Westminster Abbey, and St. Paul's Cathedral. Troy ventured to the top with a discarded ticket, avoiding the 8 pound charge to acsend to the tower, and I sat with a group of students who were able to sit right in the cloister less than 10 feet away from the choir. Troy said the view from the top was amazing and panoramic; everything in London from the Thames to downtown clearly visible. I went to a choral evensong, posing as a Spanish high school student >:-) and was completely blown away at the detail of the ceiling, and architecture.

Compared to Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's is modern, but nonetheless spectacular. The site however, has been a place of worship for almost 1400 years!!! The "new" church ( 4th of that location) is enormous, and the cloisters were lined with a dark, rich-looking wood carved meticulously with angels faces. Above the wood ( by looks about 5 stories) were millions of golen tiles creating biblical scenes. It is the most incredible thing I have seen inside any church....I could hardly take my eyes of the ceiling, and I was so glad I stayed for the service which included songs sung by a boys choir. They had traditional "picadil" collars ( by the way this collar is where the name piccadilly comes from, of piccadilly circus), and long black robes. I wish I could have taken at least one picture, but they forbid it.

Troy liked the chapel in Westminster Abbey which had original tiles and artwork dating from the 15th century, amazingly, still visible. It also houses tombs and memorials for royalty and famous/important people like Charles Dickenson, Edward I, Henry III, Oliver Cromwell, and the two princes killed at the Tower of London. I should have payed more attention in History as I am sure there were many more I saw, which were equally as amazing, but I didn't want to pay 4 pounds for an audioguide :-) Most of the wooden tombs were original, and it was an amazing feeling to be in the same spot with remains over 750 years old. Several of the inscriptions were so heart-wrenching and beautiful, tears welled up for a few moments.

Troy had a more leisurely day, taking more time at Buckingham, Westminster and St. Paul's, while I spent the whole day walking ( save the 1/2 hour I took at Trafalgar Square to eat lunch). I was able to see Covent Garden ( a must-see for me, as its the site where My Fair Lady begins) Surprisingly, the columns and square look exactly like in the movie, and it was delightfully bustling with weekend commerce, fruits, clothing, and random things.

I walked along the Thames, by Sommerset House, Waterloo bridge, and also checked out Piccadilly circus. It's like a small Times Square mixed with Union Square in SF.

Today is our last full day in London, and we are both tired....so we went back to St. Christopher's to use the free wifi and lounge. This is where I type to you all right now, although it's 5:36am Pacific time, so I'm sure you won't be reading this yet--

Tonight we stay with Peter and his fiance, then tomorrow at 3pm is our flight to Salzburg.
Cheers!

2006-04-08T02:19:00.000+07:00

The past two days have been long, but fun. As you know, we left Paris on the 6th to resume our trip after the French strikes. We are still hoping to claim for our interrupted trip ( possibly 200-300 dollars) as we had to completely miss Dublin; although we did try to experience a little Ireland by drinking a pint of Guiness in the Dublin airport bar :-)) See the fotki site for pictures of the BOGO ( buy one get one free) bagged vodka and whiskey! http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/ It also warned to not drink directly from the bag...Troy and I joked they were Irish Caprisuns---
Anyway, after a long wait at Dublin airport, we had our flight to London Stansted come off without a hitch, thankfully. We took the train directly to Liverpool street station in the center of London.

The Astor Park Hostel ( where we stayed last night) was a little too much for both Troy and I. It was enormous, full of ( what seemed like) 18 year olds who were just interested in getting shitfaced and making a raucous. There was a confusion with our beds, too. After both of us brought our sheets in, and made what we thought were our beds, we returned only to find a young Austrian guy who claimed that this was, in fact, his bed. After disturbing a few Eastern European girls about to go to sleep, we finally got it situated. Later, an idiotic Australian kid came in wasted trying to get into bed with another girl in the room...Thank god for earplugs, otherwise that guy might not have had a good impression of American girls >:-)

When we got up, we took a leisurely stroll across the Thames by the London Bridge; the new one. Troy said the old London Bridge is actually in Lake Havasu now?

After walking through downtown London, we stumbled upon the Tower of London ( not even looking for it) and made our way inside. This castle is absolutely incredible, honestly. Check out the pictures I was able to take. It cleared up and the light was incredible.

The English Monarchy was traced from 1066, starting with William I. We learned all about the castles legends & gruesome past. For example two young princes were said to have been murdered by their Uncle Richard III, who only took the throne after they were declared illegimate and killed.

It was an interesting juxtaposition between new and old, looking out from the Tower of London, into modern downtown London.

As I mentioned, the weather was brilliantly clear in the afternoon, and we took a stroll along the Thames after checking out the jewels, armory, and exhibits at the Tower of London. We still had time to hotfoot it over to Westminster Abbey, House of Parliament, and Buckingham Palace before dark.

I don't know what's in store for tomorrow, but it's only 9:50pm here and Troy has already passed out!

I just LOVE this city :-))

We have another 3 days here to enjoy....

2006-04-06T04:05:00.000+07:00

Sadly, today was our last day with Victor and A.V.. Although he did offer us another night at his flat, we declined, knowing too well the stress houseguests inherently put on their hosts. They have given us shelter, food, wine and conversation for the past five days, and we did not want to wear out our welcome. We found a cheap hostel off the Metro 9-Voltaire, for $30 Euro and will go to bed early for our flight to London. Unfortunately, Ryannair does not have direct flights to London so we have to fly through Dublin to London and spend 10 hours of travel for a flight that normally takes 40 minutes…..but I digress….
Today seemed even colder than yesterday, but clear, and we spent our first hours changing public transit lines to go to Versailles, 45 minutes away. For those of you who don’t know what Versailles is, it is an enormous chateau which housed the French kings and family from Louis XIV to Louis XVI. Picture is the "hall of mirrors" at Versailles. This was especially incredible because mirrors were difficult to make, and afterwards all European ballrooms were decorated with mirrors in the same way....See the pictures uploaded to our fotki site.
We learned:
-Louis XIV reigned from 1661-1778
-Louis XIV was succeeded by his great grandson, Louis XVI at the age of 5
-small boys were wore dresses, and were handled only by women until the age of seven when they started their “male” education
-“Dauphin” or dolphin in French, was coined during that era to mean prince
-The peace treaty to end WW1 was signed there in 1919.
-Ben Franklin visited Louis XV there
Am I boring you yet?
I assure you the details made our visit so much more interesting!

Afterwards, we ate cheese, salami and baguettes we bought the night before on the train to Paris. Straight from this train, we decided to visit the catacombs.

In the middle of the 1700’s a virulent disease (plague maybe??) was killing people faster than they could be buried, and several cemeteries were exhumed and moved far underground to make space-efficient graves. Priests with carts walked through the streets, calling for Parisians to bring out their dead. These bodies were covered with black tarps, then moved to the catacombs. Sometime in the next century, the remains were organized artistically (which still seems extremely strange and almost disrespectful) for tours. Millions of Parisian remains are there, and it was very spooky to traverse the dank tunnels underground. My claustrophobia kicked in mildly, but after a few moments to relax, I made my way all the way down.

It was dark, wet, and haunting to see millions of skulls and bones arranged neatly in piles stacked along the walls ….Troy took a few pictures, at my dismay. I saw some remains vandalized with marks from pen, and some individuals even touched the skulls in front of me!! How you could desecrate ancient remains is beyond me, but perhaps they will be haunted with bad luck (I hope!)We thought it would be a good site to film MTV’s “Fear”, but I would guess the French would not allow something like this. On our walk out we both joked about some young idiot back-packers taking a skull or tibia for a sick souvenir, and were surprised when the attendant checked our bags at the end of the tour!!! I guess remains are not worth as much as the Mona Lisa to the Parisians, which was roped off by 15 ft and covered with protective, bulletproof glass???

We are eating more baguettes as I type, and finally doing some laundry ( at 8 euro per load I might add) so we don’t stink!

For our last night in Paris I thought I would add some important items for an American’s first time in Paris:
1. Do not look for street signs actually ON the street. Parisians feel a small plaque on a nearby building suffices for navigational purposes ( we discovered this after walking in circles by the train station)
2. Have money ready if you need to use the bathroom. .60 euro for a urinal and 1.00 euro for a stall J, no I’m not kidding.
3. You will be surprised at the number of Americans in Paris, and disgusted with the number of Americans at the Eiffel Tower
a. Do not try to ascend the tower unless you want to pay 11 euro, be herded like an animal, packed into a small elevator like a sardine, only to reach the top and be sick ( like me J). The whole affair took over two hours
4. You can get Heineken in vending machines for the same price as soda
5. The small toilet-ish thing with a faucet in your hostel room, is not for urine or poop. We did not have a toilet in our room, only this confusing thing, and unfortunately in the middle of the night I really had to go :-/
6. Every bakery makes bread that is impossibly, ridiculously good.
7. They have stores here just for cheese
8. Parisians smoke. A lot.
9. Get a map of the Parisian transport system, BEFORE you arrive in Paris. Understanding this labyrinth is essential to a stress-free start.
10. Don’t expect to go into an internet café and type a quick email. The keyboard is arranged differently. You need to push shift for punctuation like a period/comma, and all of the letters are in different places. Troy and I took 45 minutes to type one short email upon arrival
11. Gas is charged per liter, and is the equivalent of 6 dollars a gallon
a. According to our host, a VW golf (luxury vehicle in Europe) is around $50,000!!
12. You won’t find Parisians wearing normal tennis shoes. Fashion sneakers (puma, adidas) and track jackets only
13. Levis jeans are 100 Euro
14. The Arc de Triomphe round-a-bout has no traffic rules. Just go man. Just go.
15. Paris in spring means 5 minutes of rain, then sun, then rain, then sun, on and on ad nauseum. Bring a rain jacket/umbrella
16. The French are not assholes. I’d be pissed too if obnoxious, voracious tourists were swarming my home and repeatedly approaching me in their own language for directions to the Eiffel tower! Be polite, make an effort and you will be surprised with the response-

See you tomorrow when we sign on in London!!!!

2006-04-05T03:28:00.000+07:00

Because our flight to Dublin was cancelled, and the first flight out of Paris is on the 6th ( the day we were to leave Dublin for London) we will go straight to London now....This is unfortunate as Troy and I both wanted to see Ireland, but que sera sera.

Today, our generous hosts offered to let us stay one more night in light of our transportation issues. After arranging a new flight ( in an airport one hour away in Beavais ) we were delighted to have Troy's pack delivered via US air!! Everything, save one weak shampoo bottle which exploded in a small pocket, was in order. Troy now had a towel, new underwear and socks, and clothes; Just in time, as everything was starting to get a little ripe ;-)

A.V walked us to the post office of Levallois-Perrett ( a prefecture in Paris) where Troy mailed his mom a postcard, and then we feasted on French pasteries and bread again. This morning was 10-15% colder than yesterday, and we ended up running through the bustling streets to get to the metro. It was the only transport not entirely disrupted by the strikes.

After buying our tickets ( hey we are total pros now- "bonjour, deux billets-- merci!") we visited the Pantheon and Opera.

The Pantheon is an amazing structure originally finished in 1790, which was used for religious purposes, to store arms during war, and now houses catacombs for France's most prestigious/famous/accomplished citizens of the past. I hung out next to Voltaire ( if you haven't already read Candide!), and Victor Hugo....and the heater, as the huge building was made from stone and cold as hell.

Afterwards we headed to the Opera Garnier ( this was actually our third time around, as the first it was closed all day, the second we arrived 15 minutes after it closed), and both of us were amazed with the size and granduer of the main foyer. Each inch was covered with a painting, carving, or chandelier, and my eyes were lost in the incredible detail.... In the picture, Troy is standing in the main foyer at Garnier....PS...see our newly uploaded photos on http://public.fotki.com/visceraltext/

I also had to break down and buy another pair of pants....I know I said I would rough it with two, but I seriously need one more pair!

Tomorrow is our second attempt at Versailles, laundry, and gathering London info...

xoxoxooxox

2006-04-04T04:49:00.000+07:00

Those of you following the news are probably aware of the labor strikes occuring throughout France at the moment. When we arrived we noticed a large amount of military police on the streets as well as shattered storefronts each morning. Unfortunately, we are having our plans dashed again, somewhat, due to these strikes. The French youth (under 26) wish to retain their previous right of 3 months notice for an employer to fire them....What a lovely concept :-) I don't think the US will be adopting these employment policies too soon, shamefully.
In any case, all public transportation is affected ( trains, metro, plane) as well as gas and power. Our flight to Dublin has been cancelled, ( in addition to every other flight out of Paris) and we need to call tomorrow to find out when and where our next flight out will be.

Yes, the thrills keep on coming, folks.

If there is one thing I have learned in the past 4 days, it is to remain unattached to your plans, forget your exhaustion, and roll with punches. As a type A control freak, I assure you, this is a very difficult mantra to adopt.

We will post again as soon as we know what is going to happen..

PS, we took the train to Versailles, and arrived only to realize it is closed every Monday....lesson #2, always confirm the hours of an attraction which requires an hour of travel time to reach!

2006-04-03T02:56:00.000+07:00

All you nay-sayers can officially enjoy your first “I-told-you-so” chuckle. Our first few days in Paris have shown me what a challenge travel can be. Of course when you think of quitting your cube-style life for a year long journey, what could be hard about that? Well, having an airline lose your bags, being without sleep for 36 hours, having a 40 lb bag strapped to your bag, and then getting lost in a myriad of Parisian public transportation lines can quickly make a dreamy Paris vacation turn into an exhausting nightmare. Yesterday, Troy and I endured what I described above, and still had sanity left to enjoy the Eiffel tower, the Louvre & Notre Dame. The experience has given me a new respect for world back-packers, and I pray I can better assimilate to the other countries we will be visiting in the months to come.

Because our travel-angels were determined to turn around the rough start to the trip, last night and today we have spent the best 24 hours. This is due to our extremely hospitable French guides/hosts we met through couchsurfing. A.V. ( or Anne-Victorique) and Victor came to the French metro after we spent hours going back and forth on the wrong trains. They showed us back to their lovely Parisian flat, and gave us the first relxation we have had on this trip.

Today, they took us to " le marche" for our first real parisian bread ( of which I got 3 chocolate croissants, a beignet, and some dark chocolate :-)) and we bought cheese, dried fruit, and pate our brunch with their friends Maud and Xavier. We also managed to pick up Troy some drawers, socks and a new T-shirt as he was going on 48 hours in the same digs >:-(

Brunch was fantastic, and the day got even better. They had their friends bring us their bikes, and together we rode for 5 hours slowly through the city looking at every major site. Madeliene church, the Bastille neighborhood, Opera Garnier, Notre Dame, Champs Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, Touilles Jardin, and lots of other neat neighborhoods and shopping areas I can't name. These hosts are a complete Godsend, and Troy and I feel so lucky to have met them. They have truly made our trip the best it could be!!

We also had a call from US air to let us know that Troy's bag is safely in Frankfurt ( why we have no idea :-)) and on its way back to Paris as I type. THANK GOD!

Tomorrow we are off to Versailles....

2006-04-01T22:26:00.000+07:00

will write more when we have time, but arrived in Paris, Troys backpack is completely lost by US air, we are trying to have a good time despite.....

2006-03-26T01:59:00.000+07:00

Final Packing Checklist
sleeping bag
thermarest
6 tank tops
3 long sleeve shirts
2 black pants
2 bathing suits
5 socks
1 sneakers
1 flip flops
2 shorts
4 short sleeve tops
quick dry towel
rash guard
silk sleep sheet
toiletries
locks
medicines
passports/travel docs
cameras
laptop
dvd camcorder

This will be our last day in our apartment at 4222 26th street, and our last day ( for at least a year) in San Fran, so you can imagine the things running through my mind.....What have I forgotten? Who did I forget to include on email distro? Did I change my address on all of my accounts? Will my backpack be too heavy? on and on and on....

I think it's fair to say, both of us are exhausted. Tired of planning, tired of making to-do lists, and tired of research.

We leave to Arizona to drop off Homer, and leave our things at Troy's parent's house in Mesa. Only 5 more days!!!

2006-03-25T03:26:00.000+07:00

I just arrived last night from Jacksonville, after visiting my mother and grandfather. He has completed the first steps in fighting the cancer, and now only needs a month of strong chemo to kick the rest.
After a short procedure, two blood transfusions and lots of rest, he left the hospital today to go back home.

Thankfully, I was able to return (even though it was only a few days)to see both of them before our world journey.

My mom and I found old albums and documents in the dust and scattered papers, which were lost for decades. We were able to see both Robert and Darragh during their golden years, in the wedding album and my mothers baby books. We also found Darragh's birth certificate, and naturalization from Britain in 1955. Hopefully mom scans them as she promised, and I can post some of them here.

2006-03-11T12:54:00.000+07:00

Life as I know it, is about to drastically slow down. I thank God. After 6 months of arduous persuasion( first Troy, then the 'rents), research, and booking, it's quite surreal to have a REALIZED LIFE GOAL around the corner, knocking at my door. For the past month, my drained attention span has been peppered with anxiety, planning, excitement, fear, longing, giddiness, cold-feet-ish regret, worry, and, today, for the first time ( in a VERY long time) relief. Most days I march hurriedly past the quaint bakeries and florists lining our streets, through crisp dawn/dusk air, completely oblivious to the beautiful city I live in, my blessings, my life. Rushing to get somewhere, do something. This evening was the first in a very long time, I hastened my pace to a pleasureable stroll, while looking, listening and absorbing the life around me. Lush green peaks speckled with pastel houses are the backdrop for my cozy, suburban-like city street. The Cherry Blossom trees ( my favorite by the way) on my street were blanketed in the richest lavender this evening, see the photo. Was it always this beautiful? How many other things have I missed in my rush?

Granted, in the same crazed, passionate five years, I've lived in South Beach, and San Francisco, studied for and taken the LSAT, recorded a CD with my incredible band members, started my CCNA certification, completed a marathon, made some money, taken vacations all over the place, and now I will travel the world. Of course, I don't regret anything, however, I am tired!

I definitely thank my stars for my life, however, I do know this type of lifestyle was slowly eating away my ability to be happy. It's not possible to be more certain of my decision, even if I did have cold-feet for a day or two. It was just the right thing to do. Now I need to hurry up, and slow down ;-)

2006-01-10T06:39:00.000+07:00

As our imminent date creeps seductively closer, I find myself in the midst of a frenzy. Admittedly, of my own fabrication, nonetheless, there are essential to-do's which need to be tallied, organized, and ticked off the list! Maybe it's my type A personality, but I constantly worry about being able to get everything done in time, without needing to change travel plans.... The more I do, the more needs to be done....From the biggest essentials, which are obviously transport ( plane tickets, Eurail tickets), Identification & money ( duplicate Passports, licenses, credit & atm cards), Insurance ( medical & travel) we have worked our way down into gear and packing.The most important things to remember when packing are, weight, ease to clean/dry, and durability. For most all of our travel gear, we are investing in new stuff. Getting the quality materials up front will ensure it lasts, and is comfortable and easy for the length of the trip. Each of us are bringing two black pairs of pants, lightweight, nylon, 3 short sleeve shirts, 1 long sleeve shirt, 4 pairs of socks and undees. Because shoes are the biggest and often most heavy thing to pack, I have been debating whether to take two or three pair. You need at least, a multi-purpose hiking/walking shoe, and a pair of sandals. For these I have the Teva dozer ( my poppa got me a pair but I sent back as it was the wrong size- I have gargantuan size 9.5!!!) and the Keen newport H2 hiking sandal. The sandals are pricey, but are supposed to be the very best in comfort & durability. I want to also bring running shoes, as there won't be a gym to go to, and it's important to keep fit!! The running shoes will definitely crowd my bag, but I think they will be well worth it...We shall see. For those I'm taking my trusty Asic gels, which got me through 26.2 miles back in October! It is always good to keep in mind you CAN ship something back, if its too much of a hassle. In addition to your clothing, the next obvious component to your gear is the actual back-pack. The sturdiest, most versaile and lightweight packs are Dana design and Gregory. Northface and Kelty also make packs, but I think the best are the first two. It was important to have an internal frame, as some of the external ones were really cumbersome and heavy. We want to be free not tied to some HUGE pack....In any case, I ended up getting a Gregory tega. I am 5'9 and 130, and this pack is made to carry 35 bls comfortably. It is an internal frame pack that distributes weight, and hugs your frame comfortably. We both agreed we wanted medium sized packs ( 3700-4200 ci) . Anything more than that and I'm going to COMPLAIN!! Anythign less than that, and we won't have anything with us...Troy hasn't gotten his pack yet, but we need to try on a few. The one I held for him was the Dana Bridger....its 4200 ci and even has a built in "camelback" sort of water carrying/drinking system. The main thing for Troy is getting one with a frame big enough for his back. At 6'5 you can imagine its difficult...Next on our list ( but thankfully already purchased by family) are the travel accesories! These are the little things that you could easily forget but will be unhappy without! First off, we have the travel sleep sheet.....I indulged for both Troy and I and we have silk. This lightweight, quick drying material is the best, as it keeps you warm when its cold, and cool when its hot. It goes without saying to get a dark color, as you dont want white looking brownish yellow at the end ( ICK). At REI these little things go for $60 bucks each, plus shipping. I looked around on ebay, however, and found a guy selling the same ones for $14.99!! They are in the mail as we speak. Having a good towel while youre backpacking/hostelling is also essential! Because cotton is a slow-drying, heavy, smelly no-no, we both have the lightweight, quick drying towels that fit easily into our packs. This with our small vanity kits will be perfect in any hostel/camp shower :-)Other essentials we have are a first aid kit, kinetic flashlight, compass, document photocopies, cable locks, padlocks ( for hostels), pacsafe ( for overnight trains) http://www.pacsafe.com/, electric converter, swiss army tool ( with file, scissors, pliers, bottle opener, ruler etc).The only MAJOR thing left to do would be my car. I still have my 03 Acura 3.2CL and I need to GET ON selling. It's a huge hassle with fixing, and detailing, but I swore to myself I would start this weekend. Hopefully I can get a few extra thousand on the top ( thank GOD I am not upside down in the thing) and life will be grand!

2005-12-08T12:36:00.000+07:00

Since the inception of our decision to quit our jobs ( which didn't materialize until September 2005) my days and nights are filled with travel planning. I think about it when I wake up, and when I go to bed...There is not a travel-dreaming-free second. Embarking on such a journey and minimizing wasted funds is something that requires research, time and effort. The first and most obvious element ( TICKETS) have been purchased; with NO return flight I might add :-) www.sidestep.com is an incredible resource for the cheapest tickets around. I looked at justfares.com, STA travel, and airtreks, all around the world trip planners. Sidestep was by far ($150 per ticket) cheaper and did not require student or youth ( ISIC) cards. Because we have things that need to be kept safe while away ( furniture, vehicles, and pets) we will be leaving San Francisco end of March 2006 to drive down to Phoenix; where Troy's family lives. Our open jaw ( a ticket that flys into one destination and out of another) tickets are Phoenix to Chicago to Paris on March 30th. Our second, and only, other flight is from Athens, Greece to Bangkok Thailand on May 22nd 2006. This gives us almost two full months to explore Europe. Its much more expensive than all parts of Southeast Asia, and I'm hoping we can rough it to save $$$.In any case, the next on my list for purchase are InteRail tickets to move through Europe. www.bootsnall.com is a great resource that gives you accurate pricing and route information. InteRail offers citizens outside the EU to buy consecutive day travels at a cheap rate. Now I'm just trying to figure out whether our trip would be cheaper if we purchase point to point fares or monthly passes. :-/Another huge point on the list, is INSURANCE. www.worldnomads.com This is the best, cheapest and most flexible insurance for travelers I have found. The limits are the highest for the price, and you can even insure your digital laptop and camera for a few bucks more. We are starting with the family plan ( just means 2 adults) for 5 months and then extending on the road. Its $411 for 5 months ( included medical/dental/baggage loss/medical evacuation) They even have a travel journal free with your insurance :-)

2005-12-07T07:32:00.000+07:00

In looking for pics to send relatives for Christmas frames, I perused through hundreds of pictures from the past year of my life. I must say, taking a second to look and reflect, 2005 has been the absolute best year of my entire life ( with the exception of 2003 when D met T) Looking at the loved ones in my life, the goals I've achieved, the places I've been, and the places I'm headed, allows me to recognize how lucky I am. Lake Tahoe twice, Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Key West, Key Largo, Bahamas, Las Vegas twice :-), Napa Valley, Oahu, and Arizona just this year...Congrats to Troy's friend Carlos on getting hitched, Congrats to my baby bro who graduated HS and moved on to College at UCF, Congrats to Sabrina on expecting a beautiful baby, and Congrats to all my family and loved ones! We've created another year of incredible memories!xoxoxoxoxo

2005-10-17T17:42:00.000+07:00

Day Five

Yesterday’s clouds have gone and as the dawn sky softens from cool slate to warm pink, the first incandescent sunrays smolder the white tip of Annapurna II a smoking gold. She catches me in the court-yard, chilled, puffy-eyed, unsuspecting, and renders me spell-bound on my way for masala tea. People say you can never accurately describe what it feels like to see the majestic Himalaya up close for the first time. It’s a humbling, swallowing, visceral high, unlike anything I have felt before. How can innate rock make me feel this way: utterly dumbfounded, elated, in awe of the inconceivable magic inherent? Let’s agree: I can understand why Nepali have founded their religion in them. It is our first close up view of a Himalayan peak. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen; not simply because of its sheer size, fantastic aesthetic or world-wide fame (which in their own rights are also quite impressive), but because there is something intangible, subtle, even supernatural in that mystical mass of mountain.

In quiet morning moments, sipping my strong brew, I am blind-sided with why we’re here: close proximity to total earthly perfection. The celestial pervading joy, impossibly-romantic illumination, crystal-clarity and bone-chilling grandeur leaves every soul awake stunned and silent, admiring a sight we are all so lucky and have worked so hard, so far, to see. Suddenly, I am reminded of my fortune, of the love for Troy, my family and friends, and also for myself. It is one of those seconds, one of those few in a lifetime, wrought permanently, deeply to my soul; a euphoric lightness filling through me, opening and ripening my heart. Free from misgiving, distress or regret: I am happy.

What IS this salacious satisfaction? Could the mountains be bringing me in closer touch with God? Or just quieting the distractions to see myself?

Either way, we dreamily move through our morning routine; drugged in overwhelming adoration and Nepal’s interminable beauty. I am you! You are me! We are everything! Ok, ok…I know it that’s abjectly bleeding-heart, ( not my usual bag, baby) but it’s quite possibly the most special sight I’ve seen and the ensuing euphoria succeeds, transcends where lost souls’ chemical attempts complicate, misconstrue and confuse.

Wishing to preserve the calm solitude of the awesome sunrise, as the boom-boxes and boisterous babble are slowly switching on, Troy and I forego breaking our fast to get a head start on the trail. In our hurry, we miss an inconspicuous stretch, to rejoin the wide gravel trail from Bagarchap; the mischievous (and quietly omniscient) donkey biting his tongue and only smiling as we truck past, the wrong way. Twenty minutes of exploring a veritable spider-web of slight trails, I have the hanging feeling of forgetting something, of needing to return. Mentally running through the tally of things I remembered packing and things I wasn’t sure about, a light bulb bursts overhead and I recall strangely setting my Ipod on the balcony ledge. Why did I do that? We stop, lost anyway, and I dash back, leaping over the cobblestone path to the lodge to luckily find my Ipod and ( not so luckily) all the trekkers we tried to pass gathering, loudly, in the courtyard. I guess it’s my just desserts for rushing and I remind myself, no matter the noise, this isn’t a race. Everything always as it should be.

Starting over from the lodge, we notice the correct way, curving east towards the cold, violent-looking river 200 meters below. The modest cluster of worn wooden teahouses comprising Bagarchap clings, somewhat grimly, to the gravel ledge overhanging the river; a deadly landslide obliterating most of the picturesque town a few years prior. The golden light has strengthened to stark brightness, and Annapurna II is now a blinding white. Breaking our northern direction for the first time since Besi Sahar, the trail begins to swing back west, hugging the cliff, climbing higher through a dense, evergreen forest.

Although its decidedly morning, the sun is not strong enough to warm our faces or brittle muscles; the overhanging botanical blot diffusing the cool, alpine sun. We plod, briskly into the crisp forested shade, trying to jump-start our own, built-in heating stomping over the thick mush of red and brown leaves. Chill from the thinning air seems to sterilize every scent -save the slight, ubiquitous aroma of mud- and it’s stinging as I draw breath; my arms and legs rippling with goose bumps. Amazingly, my pack is beginning to feel comfortable slung across my shoulders ( something I never thought possible); the 22lbs thankfully no longer cutting, aching, but an extension of me. Carrying my things myself makes me feel potent, capable, independent.

As we’re tackling the wide, shaded path north-north-west, the majority of the day’s 550m climb confronts us. An inconsistent, extremely steep path, starting as stone steps veering off into dirt incline, slices diagonally into the cliff, obviously a newly fashioned detour resulting from monsoon erosion. In the distance, we see the slow procession of hikers, their tiny heads bobbing slowly, with marked determination, upwards. After crossing a “rustic bridge” ( two enormous logs, slippery with moisture and moss, over which we shimmy, clumsy in thick-soled cumbersome boots) beneath the thick canopy of dark greenery, we buckle down, steadily plodding skywards against this brutal, make-shift ascent. Half way up the steep, shaded slope, we reach an extremely narrow switchback, about the width of my feet side-by-side, and the familiar stiffness and nausea of my acrophobia sets in. One slip and I’m a pinball clinking down, break, snap, crack; a rag-doll against the impervious, innumerable tree trunks. I lean completely forward, palm to gripless dirt and waddle, ever so carefully to the next, wider section, feeling I am getting better at cliffhanging. I didn’t even cry :)

The towering feather and stretch of pine branches breaks at the top of the hill, where we are given are first and only view of the highest peak in region: Manaslu. Palest blue, its contours against the sky’s hue ever so slight in the pastel distance, rising jagged and massive. Climbing higher, our south eastern view is framed with the lush, hunter-green of high altitude evergreens and scrubby juniper and our shiny faces are finally flushed in the morning sunrays.

This is much more than I’d dreamed; worth each ounce of blood, sweat and tears spent getting here. As I’m slathered in scenery, sunrays and sweat, there’s contentment, joy. Troy and I take a moment to download into our permanent memory banks. It doesn’t get any better than this.

We admire this mighty panorama, catch our breath, and take a photo. In doing so, the approaching trekker we’d tried desperately to outrun reaches us. Initially, Troy and I feared he led the entire pack of 20 French pole-prodding trekkers from Bagarchap, and not wanting to be knee-deep in blaring music and other various humanoid disturbances (no! no! no! oooh-lala! Jean-Claude!) we pushed, breathlessly beyond our fitness, ahead. We can see now, and feel a bit sheepish, he’s alone and impossibly friendly.

Ron Eckert; why I left my Ipod, and started off the wrong way this morning. None of us know it yet, but he’s my guardian angel. Standing an athletic 5’11, he’s textbook: equipped with high-tech doodads and brand-name outdoor gear we didn’t have the expertise or foresight to bring; his perfect white smile and strong jaw bristled in a groomed salt-pepper beard. Picture the most quintessential outdoorsman, stir in contagious high-spirits a measure of gregarious good-nature and there you have it. Ron hails from Vancouver, and despite being 61, does not look a day over 40; an inspiring commercial for the benefits of healthy-living and life-long exercise. Continuing up the last of the climb, we enjoy a smiling ( he was doing the smiling, us the labored huffing) conversation about the views, iodine vs. chlorine purification, and his 22 year-old daughter also on the trek, Christiana; in his voice the approachable and upbeat articulation of a jovial top-40 radio announcer.

Suddenly, a large, wily dog appears and threatens, barking and growling, trotting aggressively from the trees. Rudely snapped from my merriment, a lone memory fizzles across my throbbing cranial neurons: foolishly declining the doctor’s suggestion for rabies inoculations at the Red Cross in Bangkok. Treatment for rabies entails a series of fourteen, 6-inch-plus, stomach-stabbed shots, but let’s not fantasize about the rewards just yet. We freeze in panic, and I visualize my bloody flesh speared on the brute’s jagged incisors. We have no defense. A leg injury, however minor, to any of us would ruin the remaining three weeks of hiking, probably requiring a dicey helicopter ride back to Kathmandu for treatment.

Easy. Eaaaaasy. No sudden movements.