The end.

I’ve owed my wife (and myself) this final blog entry going on two years now. We’ve been home in Seattle since mid-November of 2007, and the last couple of years on this side of the world have been outstanding. However, before we talk about the present, I need to pick up where we left off in the past.

The last update came to you from a sweaty, basement internet café in Paharganj, Delhi, hours before we caught a Jet Airways flight to Thailand. For Megan, saying goodbye to India couldn’t have come any sooner (I didn’t shed any tears saying goodbye either) . . . a couple weeks in the islands would be the perfect way to recover from the challenging China through India leg of the trip before leaving for our final destination of the journey, home.

The trip on Jet Airways, India’s national airway, was fantastic. The coach flight compared with my only first class experience in the states, complete with a fresh seafood meal and nice wine selection. I must admit that I was a little confused to be so damn comfortable on the flight . . . very inconsistent with our other Indian travel experiences.

We touched down in Bangkok and taxied to our favorite budget guesthouse near Khao San Road, can’t remember the name of the place anymore . . . either the Merry V. GH or My GH, not that important. Either way, arriving in Bangkok almost felt like a homecoming for the two of us. We’d spent a fair bit of time in the city over the course of this and previous trips . . . probably approaching a couple weeks total. It kind of became our “home away from home” as we both became very comfortable with the city. Before heading to the islands, the major items on our to-do list included 1) distributing an updated resume to my professional contacts and 2) stocking up on beach gear . . . flip-flops, sunscreen, towels, etc. I laugh about it now; thinking about soliciting employment from an internet café in Thailand . . . I can only imagine that the recipients of my e-mails must have interpreted them as follows: Hey dudes, I’m heading to the beach for a couple more weeks, get back around Thanksgiving, let me know when I start the new job.

After a productive day in Bangkok, we hopped on a bus for the Andaman Coast . . . another 12 hour bus trip to the islands, piece of cake. We arrived in Khao Lak, a small beach town on the peninsula, didn’t see anything too impressive, then jumped another local bus for a quick trip down to one of our trusty Southern Thailand destinations, Karon Beach on Phuket. We checked into the Little Mermaid, grabbed a nice dinner, and looked forward to the final days of relaxation that lay ahead. Unfortunately, we awoke the next morning to find that we were missing the key ingredient to a good day at the beach . . . the sun. Instead of the bright blue skies we hoped to find, we found a sky that resembled those over the Washington coast in the winter . . . endless grey clouds, generous with rainfall . . . the kind of sky that left no hope of sunshine. In spite of our prayers, sun dances, and sacrifice of live animals, the sun would not shine. After eight and a half months on the road, you learn one thing . . . if you don’t like where you’re at, move, which is what we did. After a day and half of rain, we cut our losses and caught a night bus back to Bangkok, arrived the next morning, then promptly caught a tourist bus/boat combo to Ko Samet.

Why Ko Samet? The island is located in the northeast corner of the gulf of Thailand, a quick trip (4 hours) from Bangkok. This part of the Gulf is typically blessed with sunnier skies in the fall than Thailand’s more popular destinations in the deep south, which are dealing with monsoon weather this time of year. The gamble and long trip back north paid off . . . dealing us a royal flush in terms of weather. Besides weather, the other unknown was Ko Samet itself. We’d never been there and most travelers and guide books turn their nose up at the island, which is known as more of a weekend vacation trip for the Bangkok locals. The ferry dropped us off on one of the eastern beaches in the center of the island. We started trekking north along the east coast, checking out beaches as we went, until we stumbled upon Ao Hin Khok, about a mile up the coast. The little stretch of sand had three rustic beach bungalow resorts. We wound up checking into Tok’s Little Hut, ten bucks a night for a room with a view of the water . . . can’t pass that up. The bungalow was basic but clean, and neither of us was complaining as the sun was shining.
All told, we stayed 15 days with Mr. Song, his family, and friendly staff at Tok’s. For those couple of weeks, the schedule was perfectly simple:

8:00 – 8:30 – Wake up.
8:30 – 9:30 – Put on the trunks, grab a light breakfast.
Around 9:30 – Pay for a couple of hammock chairs and hit the beach.
Around 11:00 – Have one of the cabana boys bring us a fruit shake (always lemon for me, watermelon for Megan)
Around 1:00 – Have lunch (I normally had “BBQ Chicken Lady” grill up a hunk of protein for me, Megan beat up a stir fry, normally cashew/vegetable, from Tok’s)
Around 3:00 – Buy some fruit from the “Fruit Man” – one of my favorite characters of the entire trip, constantly singing “Want a pineapple, a coconut . . . coconut, want a mango, a watermelon?” and so on.
Around 6:00 – Head up for a shower.
7:00 – 10:00 – Catch dinner and quite often a move at The Gecko Restaurant.

Our time on Ko Samet was a perfect finish to the incredible trip. Megan had a handful of late afternoon massages on the beach, we both poured through the beach reads . . . life was good.
On the last day, we said goodbye to the gang, especially Donnie (our bartender for the stay) and Mr. Song (our welcoming host). From there, we boated and bused back to Bangkok for our last couple nights in the city. Our final days of the trip were nice . . . gift shopping for family, a couple more massages, one more cocktail stop at the Gecko Bar on Rhambuttri, an entertaining dinner at the brewery Somsak introduced me to 4 years before, a lunch from our favorite street food vendor . . . our best of Bangkok. From there, it was one more taxi ride to BKK and 20 hour trip back to Seattle.

As I write this a couple years after the fact, I get a bit melancholy . . . the people and places of Asia provided the two of us with some of our favorite memories in life. I also think about how fortunate I was to spend nine months with my wife . . . the perfect travel companion (and better life companion). We spent about 98% of the trip within an arm’s reach of one another . . . and I can sincerely say that I never got tired of it (I won’t speak for her). I don’t deny that we had some stressful moments in the trip (almost all self-induce by yours truly) . . .but in hindsight, we never turned those stresses against one another. We were and are the perfect team. I’m a lucky guy.

Where are they now?

Both Megan and I started new jobs the first week in 2008, less than two months after our return. We were very fortunate to get home and employed before the economy began to tighten later in the year. The new jobs and move back to Seattle were really just the transition into our next journey in life, which begins this February. We are expecting our first child . . . a one-way ticket for a trip we’ll never return from (nor want to . . . hopefully). In addition to the upcoming birth, we expect to get the keys to our first home this Wednesday, a little 3-bed on the east side of Greenlake . . . our favorite neighborhood in the city. Life is moving fast, but we’ve got big smiles and excitedly await Baby Melchiors’ arrival.

Regarding the trip, people typically ask about favorites, least favorites, cost, logistics, etc. Our favorite destinations still are Vietnam and Nepal . . . Vietnam was the jewel of Southeast Asia for the two of us, while our Himalayan experience in Nepal provided the most stunning, surreal days of the trip. Also, there’s no secret that we both love the beaches and islands of Thailand . . . no better place to waste time. I can only speak for myself on this one, but I don’t have single place that I wish we would have skipped. The old saying “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” couldn’t be truer when it comes to traveling. I’d also toss in the saying “what doesn’t kill you, makes you laugh your ass off down the road” . . . when I think about some of the sticky situations and miserable bus trips we did, I can only laugh . . . oddly enough, they’ve become some of my favorite memories. Based on that first cab ride in Hanoi, I will always know that I’m in deep shit if my wife starts yelling “Bad man!!!” at me. And based on our experiences in India, I know that I will never get my wife back to India (nothing like a lung full of burning corpse smoke to start your morning).

At this point in life, I can honestly say that those nine months in 2007 were the best of my life . . . and on another positive note, I can say that even better days lay ahead.

An interesting fact, there were less than 500 hits on the first page of this blog at the conclusion of our trip . . . I took a look at the site a couple weeks ago and was surprised to see that the number has added up to just below 12,000. I apologize to those who were looking for useful travel advice, who came to the divine knowledge that I like lemon shakes. If I stop and think about the key takeaways from the trip, I come up with the following.

1) I love my wife . . . more than anything.
2) I am lucky . . . in many ways, to have seen the places that I have seen, and met the people that I have met, and have the life that I was given.
3) There are countless paths one can take in life . . . take the one that makes you happy, it’s probably the right one.

Never a dull moment . . .

Bedridden Backpackers

Alright, we made it to Agra, home of the extraordinary Taj Mahal, and . . . we both got sick. Megan got a mean case of stomach problems, which equals extremely high toilet paper expenses . . . . $1/roll x lotsa rolls, while I had a wicked chest infection. Between Megan’s 416 trips to the toilet and my 103 degree fevers, we were a pretty sad sight. Fortunately, we were able to get in a comfortable AC room with rock solid cable TV to weather the storm. The downside of our maladies was we had to wait 4 days before seeing the Taj Mahal. The upside of downtime was catching hilarious TV commercials on the Indian networks. Our favorite was an ad for Cobra Sparkling Water. The family attorney is reading the recently deceased patriarch’s will. Just as one of the son’s takes a refreshing gulp of his Cobra beverage, the lawyer announces that Tansabai, the super hot family maid, is the sole heir to his fortune. Everyone gasps but the one son who just took a swig. Instead, he congratulates the sexy housekeeper and tells his family that she deserved it. “Cobra . . . so smooth, anything goes down well.” We love it. So after countless rolls of TP, bottles of Sprite, corny commercials, and few days of cippro, we were finally back on our feet.

The next morning, we made the short trip to the Taj Mahal on foot, bought tickets, and cruised into the beautiful grounds. We’d heard that the Taj wasn’t that impressive . . . . looks just like the pictures, not that big, blah blah blah. I’d say we were fairly impressed if not overwhelmed. The ruler of India, Shah Jahan, had the thing built as a memorial to his wife who died while in labor to their 14th child. 14 kids . . . figured they were Catholics (actually Muslims).

To the Desert

Varanasi was rough. The Taj Mahal was cool. Where next? We’d heard good things about Rajasthan State from other travelers . . . . quiet, beautiful, natural place. We decided to check it out. We caught a bus out of Agra in the morning. About 10 hours and a couple more buses later, we arrived in Pushkar. This friendly dude, Monte, approached us on the last bus ride of the day and told us about his family’s hotel . . . quiet place with a nice swimming pool about 10 minutes walk to the center of town. We told him we’d check it out and we were glad we did. It was a nice place to recover from the bustling cities. We hung out for a few days around the pool, had pleasant dinners in town overlooking the lake, and took a couple leisurely walks. I played cowboy for a few hours one afternoon and went for a horseback ride through the surrounding area, which was a great trip through the dry desert country and tiny villages outside of town. We didn’t do a whole hell of a lot in Pushkar (there isn’t a lot to do), which was exactly what we needed. After a few days and nights, we headed to Jaisalmer.

Papu and Lalu

We boarded a “tourist” bus shortly after midnight, going west to Jailsalmer. Megan was close to tears getting on the bus . . . there was no mystery as to what kind of ride it would be. People and goods were strewn everywhere. We tiptoed over people and all their worldly possessions on our way back to our sleeping cabin, which was a cramped pillbox, suspended above the seated passengers. I have to give the bus operators credit for achieving the same level of chaos within their bus as we’ve experienced on the busy city streets of India. 12 bumpy hours later, we made it to our destination. Tear free.

Jaisalmer is known for a couple things: a huge old fort and camel safaris. We experienced the best of both. We found a really terrific place to stay inside the fort, Hotel DeepMahal. The owner, Johnnie, and his right hand man, Lucky, were excellent guys. Our room was beautiful . . . very Alladin. We enjoyed a couple of relaxing days in the fort before we headed out on a 3 day/2 night camel safari, the primary purpose of our visit. We left the hotel around 8:30 in the morning, headed west for Pakistan (which of course we did not go into . . . . but we were actually quite close, around 50 km away). About an hour later, Johnnie pulled the car over in the middle of nowhere, where 3 camels and 2 camel men awaited us. We got acquainted with Matar (lead camel man and guide), Guman (14 year old guide in training), Papu (6 year old male camel), Lalu (4 year old male), and Jshogi (2 year old female in safari training). I was assigned to Papu while Megan got Lalu. After a couple minutes of introductions, we strapped our packs on the camels, jumped in the saddles, and next thing we know, we were perched high in the air on top of some funny looking creatures. There’s not much to riding a camel . . . you’re a pro in 30 minutes. You just hold on and rock.

We bounced through the scrub and dunes for a few hours before coming to a halt at a small grove of trees. There, we rested for several hours, taking lunch and playing cards. Matar whipped up a delicious lunch of curry and chapatti while Guman tended to the camels. We settled in under a tree, content knowing that we had another 2 ½ days of peace, quiet, good food, and enjoyable company in friendly Matar and Guman. Once the sun dropped a fair bit in the sky, we set off for our evening destination, Bunda Dunes. We arrived at the dunes about an hour before sunset. Matar prepared some tasty chai tea and spread a blanket for us to enjoy the remains of the day. It was a gorgeous sunset followed by a beautiful night sky. We enjoyed a nice dinner by the campfire, sang some desert songs, then called it a night, falling asleep under a blanket of stars.

The next morning, we awoke just before sunrise. Matar was busy preparing a basic breakfast of toast with jam and porridge. We enjoyed the simple meal while the sun climbed above the horizon of the dusty desert. Shortly after, we climbed aboard our trusty camels and headed off. The itinerary was pretty much the same as the first day . . . ride camels through the middle of nowhere for a few hours, break for a long lunch, a couple more hours of riding, finally arriving at a big sand dune shortly before sunset. It was great. I was concerned we might get bored, but we didn’t. The scenery managed to change enough to keep the eyes interested, and every once in a while, we came across a small village where we’d take a short break to preserve our backs and bottoms. The second day was just as nice as the first. That evening, we could hear praying in the nearby Muslim village, which also happened to be home to Matar and Guman.

We awoke the last day, caught another breathtaking sunrise, then headed east back towards Jaisalmer. We arrived in Matar and Guman’s village after an hour in the saddle. We took a walk around town and eventually made our way to Matar’s family home. His mother prepared us a delicious chai and slices of papaya. The village children crowded around . . . very curious as to who we were. We made funny faces, played games, and joked around. After an hour in the village, we had to push on. A little later, we stopped by a small river where we took our last delicious meal with Matar and Guman. Around 4:00 pm, we boarded Papu and Lalu for the last time and did the short ride to the pickup point, where a smiling Lucky arrived shorty.

We said a long goodbye to Matar and Guman and thanked them for the wonderful experience. The trip was amazing, providing a really intimate peak into life in the desert and within its simple villages. The people there lead by far the most basic, undeveloped lives we’ve seen on the trip. Most villages did not have power. People cooked over wood fires. Many people had to walk up to a couple miles just to fetch drinking water. In spite of their complete material poverty, they seemed remarkably happy, never lacking a smile, rarely asking for a handout. The desert itself was beautiful . . .. flawless sunrise and sunset everyday, not a single cloud in the sky for 3 days. The temperature was nice . . . . not too hot during the day with refreshingly cool nights. The safari was definitely the most enjoyable time we’ve spent in India and one of the top experiences of the entire trip.

My only complaint was the fact that Megan’s camel had a bit of a gas problem, and unfortunately, Papu and I had to follow. At least, she said it was Lalu.

Closeout India

After one last beautiful evening in the fort in Jaisalmer, we hopped on the Jaisalmer-Delhi Express, which is the name of the daily train between the remote outpost and the country’s chaotic capitol. We arrived in Delhi 21 hours later, around 2:00 pm, and caught an auto-rickshaw to Paharganj (the city’s backpacker area). We checked into a nice little hotel, which had been recommended by a friendly couple in Agra. The primary goal of the day was getting clean and relaxing, which we accomplished easily. The next day (yesterday), we caught a cycle-rickshaw to Old Delhi. The highlights of the area include the Red Fort, Jamal Masjid (India’s largest mosque and Shah Jahan’s final architectural achievement as ruler), and its ancient markets. Our first destination was the Red Fort, which was actually a bit disappointing, unfortunately. Before falling ill in Agra, I made it to the Agra Fort, which was spectacular . . . the Red Fort was a bit of a letdown. Oh well, they can’t all be winners. From there, we made the short trip between the fort and mosque on foot, passing through the myriad of shops in the chaotic bazaars. We arrived at the mosque shortly after 1:00. We had to wait until 1:45 to enter to allow the early afternoon prayer to finish. Upon entering the mosque, I tried to envision the thousands of faithful I’ve seen praying there on television during Muslim holidays. The building itself was quite simple, not ornate at all, but impressive in its shear size. We paid the small fee to climb the southern minaret, which provided 360 degree views of Delhi. It seemed like such a quiet, orderly city from so high up . . . it reminded me of Megan’s comments in Varanasi about India’s beauty from a distance.

After several hours in Old Delhi, we headed to New Delhi for a bit of comfort. We sipped tasty teas and delicious coffees in an upscale coffee house most of the afternoon. Afterwards, we enjoyed a bit of pizza at a Pizza Hut. That evening, we caught a Bollywood flick at what must have been one of the city and country’s oldest theaters . . . old in a good way. The basic plot of the movie was young girl forced to move from Varanasi to Bombay in search of a high paying job to cover the family’s mortgage and father’s medical bills back home. Unfortunately, due to her lack of skills, she is forced to become a prostitute. Fortunately, all’s well that ends well . . . poppa overcomes his heart ailment, the house is saved, and the young girl finds love in the arms of a rich IT guy. Happy ending. The movie was entirely in Hindi with a lot of singing and dancing . . . However, it was easy to follow and remarkably entertaining.

The one thing I forgot to mention in the last blog, was our unexpected casting in a Bollywood movie while in Varanasi. We were walking along the Ganges one afternoon when someone called our attention. A scene was being shot on the banks of the river, and the director asked us if we wouldn’t mind appearing. I’d like to think it was our “star quality” that got us the role, but I’m thinking it was probably more the fact that we were the first white people to walk by . . . not important. Anyway, our job was to be ourselves (tourists). The scene was Megan and I having a relaxed conversation by the river, when all of the sudden, a necklace dealer shows up. I ask the guy how much. He says 10 rupees. I hand him ten rupees and take a necklace. We say thanks . . . scene over. 10 seconds of fame . . . Unfortunately, I forgot to ask the guy the name of the movie. So, I’ve assigned Megan the responsibility of watching every Bollywood title made in 2007.

Moving on . . . Today, we’re just relaxing around the hotel, doing a bit of shopping, blogging, etc. before we catch a cab to the international airport this evening. We’re on the 1:05 am redeye to Bangkok. From there, we’ll head south to the islands for one last hurrah. As Megan frequently points out, it has been over three months since we’ve been on the beach (sand dunes don’t count). To be honest, I’m looking forward to it as well. The travel gas tank is running low . . . not quite empty, but that little orange “running low” light is on.

India’s been an interesting country to end the serious adventures in. The place is a bit overwhelming . . . . so so so many people and constant filth in “developed” areas. The scenery has included beautiful landscapes, unimaginable slums, and everything in between. It’s been fascinating to say the least.

We’re looking forward to a few more weeks of palm trees, turquoise water, and ice cold beer before undertaking the inevitable and desirable trip home.

If Nepal was for dinner, we'd have seconds.

Sore Feet, Achy Legs, Perfect Mountains

After catching a tourist bus (less shitty than a public bus. . . but still shitty) from Kathmandu to Pokhara, we checked into a guesthouse, procured a couple rental sleeping bags, grabbed a quick bite, and crashed for the evening. The next morning, we had a nice breakfast, made birthday calls to our sisters, then caught a taxi to Besisahar. From Besisahar, we took a bus down the 7 km jeep trail to Khudi. In Khudi, we started our 210 km march of the Annapurna Circuit Loop Trail through the heart of the Himalayas. The trail starts at 810 meters of elevation. From there, our legs took us about 120 km to a max elevation of 5,400 meters (17,800 feet), before descending the final 90 km to Beni, situated at 1,200 meters . . . . long, slow up then long, slow down.

The hike itself was sensational . . . steep, deep river valleys with rice, potato, and buckwheat fields carved out of the mountain side in the lowlands; lush pine forests at mid-elevations; and rocky, barren mountain landscapes at high elevations. Six, seven, and eight thousand meter peaks filled the skyline in almost all places. Sensory overload for 15 days.

On top of it all . . . . no roughing it. In each of the small villages, of which there are plenty (the trail was created initially as a foot path from village to village over hundreds of years), you’ll find anywhere from 1 to 10 small lodges which will happily provide a warm, comfortable bed at night and a delicious plate of food at a very reasonable price (dhal bat set for $3, Snickers for $0.80, not bad considering a good portion of the food is carried up by porters – human ants carrying 150 lbs).

On the trail, we met up with some Dutch friends we initially met in Lhasa. While in Kathmandu, we had planned to catch up with them at some point. About 9:30 am on our second day of hiking, we saw a couple of hikers waving their walking sticks and shouting enthusiastically . . . we had caught up with Hub and Debbie. It was great having another couple with whom to hike and enjoy the evenings (we were about 2 weeks ahead of the main season, October, so things were extremely quiet on the trail – only 20 hikers a day were starting the trek at that time, we had most lodges to ourselves). In the evenings, Hub and I played Claviese (favorite game of card lovers in the Netherlands), my new favorite card game. Once we crossed the pass into the Mustang territory, we became connoisseurs of the local apple brandy.

All in all, the hike was a terrific time . . . my only complaint is the fact they are in the process of constructing roads up both sides of the pass. This sucks as it will pretty much destroy the whole trekking experience. Unfortunately, a good majority of the people in this remote area think the road will help them (cheaper supply of goods, easier to get vegetables back to bigger towns for sale, etc.). However, when asked where their source of income comes from, the answer is always tourism, which is pretty obvious when in the area . . . In October and November alone, 60,000 trekkers pass through the villages. They understand that trekkers don’t like roads and that it will have a significant, if not cataclysmic, effect on tourism (which they concede is the source of their money . . . . and they have it a hell of a lot better than most Nepalese), but they still think “road is good”. I disagree, but that’s only one man’s opinion. Let’s hope I’m wrong for their sake.

If you do this hike: I’ve only got a couple of tips.
#1 Watch out for the poo . . . . there’s lots of it. There’s more donkey porters than trekkers, so the supply is fresh and copious.
#2 Stay at lodges with a 1+:1 female:male ratio . . . dude’s may try to run a kitchen and lodge, but they generally suck at it. A lady’s touch.is sorely needed high in the mountains. The only exception to this rule is at the High Camp Lodge just before the pass . . . these guys are pros.
#3 Eat as many pastries in Manang as humanly possible . . . . you’re going to be sitting there anyway for an acclimatization day so you might as well consume 11,000 calories of chocolate danishes.

Back to civilization.

After a couple weeks and a day on the trail, we arrived at Beni, the end of the trek. We plopped ourselves on a public bus for the 4 hour rattle back to Pokhara, where all the conveniences of the tourist world awaited . . . endless hot showers, internet, and a wide variety of chow. The next day it rained all day, which is funny because we had spectacular weather the entire trek. We found a couple comfortable chairs at the Bamboostian Teahouse and settled in for a day of movie watching, the perfect activity for our tired bodies. That evening, we met up with Hub and Debbie at the New Everest Steakhouse for some superb cow and a beautiful glass of red wine . . . a nice end to the trek and goodbye dinner.

Holy Rhinos!!!!

The next morning, we boarded a tourist bus for Royal Chitwan National Park to enjoy a couple days of safari living. We found a terrific lodge on the river bordering the park . . . the perfect place to relax before heading to our next destination, the not so relaxing India. The next morning, Megan and I boarded a dugout canoe and headed down the Rhapti River. The highlight of the float was passing a massive old rhino just chilling in the cool water of the river. After 45 minutes, we took the canoe ashore and headed into the dense forest of the park for a jungle walk. Lead by our fearless guides, K-Pee and Usa, we marched through the mangrove swamps, thick bush, and steamy grasslands. We managed to see a number of monkeys (rhesus and langurs), birds, and deer . . . nothing too big or crazy (tiger, elephant, rhino) on the walk. The only problem with the jungle walk was the overabundance of leeches hanging out, just waiting for a warm body. Unfortunately, 6 of the bastards successfully treated themselves to breakfast on Rob. Megan was more successful at swift identification and removal . . . no blood loss for her.

After returning to the lodge, we headed down to the river to watch the elephant bathing, a daily occurrence. I stripped down to my trunks and joined the party. I hopped aboard a younger elephant, which I came to the quick conclusion was minimally trained. Sitting atop an elephant is supposed to be a fun, peaceful experience. This first elephant was more like a rodeo bull. After being bucked back into the river several times, I hung up my spurs and went in search of an older, more sedate elephant. Fortunately, I found a nice 36 year old female (elephant) to ride. I tipped the driver 100 rupees ($1.50) and we headed out into deep water where the old girl proceeded to hose me down a handful of times with her trunk . . . good solid playing with elephants fun.

That afternoon, Megan and I boarded a different elephant and headed into the forest. For a couple of hours we rocked back and forth, spotting a handful of rhinos, including a baby, and several herds of the local deer . . . cool experience. The remainder of our time in Chitwan was spent relaxing at one of two river front places . . . staring at the grasslands and river (we saw a wild elephant several times as well as crocs and gators), doing soduku, reading, and enjoying quiet candle-lit dinners.

Enough of these beautiful mountains, friendly people, and relaxing landscapes . . . let’s go to India.

After a few days and nights in the park, we boarded yet another bus for the sound and fury known as India. We arrived in Sunauli (border) around 2:00 pm, where we grabbed some noodles, changed money, and banged through customs. Next, we piled into a Bolero Jeep with 13 of our closest friends for Gorakhpur. In Gorakhpur , we caught a train for Varanasi, the first destination of most backpackers entering from Nepal.

We arrived in Varanasi around 4:30 am and found a clean, quiet hotel where we crashed for the remainder of the morning. That afternoon, we headed down to the sacred Ganges River to see what the city was all about. I can’t recall the Lonely Planet’s exact description of Varanasi, but I think it goes something like “this idyllic city, located on the picturesque banks of the Ganges River, is the beating heart of Hinduism”. After a couple of minutes (not hours), I believe my wife would probably recommend the following edit “this shithole, located on the garbage strewn banks of the filthiest river in the world, is the stinking armpit of the universe”. The whole go to India thing was not going so well.

First Impression: What is the fastest way to get out of this country?

However, we persevered. Our patience was rewarded with the sight of burning corpses (very sacred Hindu ritual performed on the banks of the Ganges, bodycount numbers 300+/day . . . soul is carried to heaven by the flames/smoke of the fire). This was not my wife’s idea of a vacation . . . tears fell (#7 – I’ve blown my target of 4 times, but all in all, 7 ain’t that bad). We retreated to the rooftop restaurant of one of the riverside guesthouses where we regrouped from the rough start.

We enjoyed a nice lunch, the company of the restaurant crew, and the surprisingly pleasant views of the river and city from there. Megan put it best when she said that, Varanasi is beautiful from a distance, but shit up close. That evening, we watched a religious ceremony at the main bathing ghat (where believers wash in the river), a tribute to the holy river.

The next morning, I awoke at 4:45 am and headed down to the river for a sunrise boat trip (supposedly the nicest time of day). Megan opted to sleep as she was already fully satisfied with her Varanasi experience. I found a young guy to paddle me up and down the Ganges as the new sun cast a warm glow on the riverfront. It was actually really nice. However, I did see a floating corpse at one point, which is also quite common here (they don’t burn 5 types of people . . . children, pregnant women, holy men, unmarried men/women, and cobra bit victims . . . instead they plop them in the river).

I don’t want to seem like I’m mocking the culture or religion . . . it was just a bit much, a bit quick. We left Varanasi on an afternoon train, hoping this was as bad as it got.

Next Up: Agra

We caught a night train to Agra, home of the legendary Taj Mahal. We got in shortly after noon today. We had a very nice Indian fellow in our sleeper cabin. We were asking him about the condition of other cities, relative to Varanasi. Much to our delight, Varanasi was a 10 on the filthy scale, while other cities ranged from 2 to 7 according to this gentleman. What a relief! However, seeing is believing. When we got into Agra, we were pleasantly surprised to find treelined avenues and relatively clean neighborhoods. We’ve only been here a few hours, but things are definitely looking up. Tomorrow, we’re going catch the sunrise over the Taj Mahal, then head to the Agra Fort in the afternoon. It should be great.

From here:

After Agra, we’re headed to Rajasthan, a beautiful desert area west of Delhi . . . every traveler we’ve met seems to love it there.

As far as the volunteering thing goes, saving the world ain’t so easy. We haven’t heard back from our contact in northern India for several weeks. Not sure what happened there, but it doesn’t look like we’re headed north . . . kind of a headscratcher. We’ve got a couple e-mails out to people back in Thailand who can hopefully use some helping hands at the tail end of our trip.

We really love and miss everybody . . . getting close to the end of the trip makes us long for home, but we’re going to push on a week or two more in good old India before heading to Thailand for a bit of R&R and hopefully volunteering.

Big congrats to SKG!!!!!!

Holy Peeps and High Peaks

Last Few Days in Lhasa

10:04 am: I’ve got a killer case of writer’s block, so give me a few minutes here.

10:09 am: Okay, let’s get started. Our last few days in Lhasa were really nice, basically a lot more of the same (which was a good thing). The morning after our last blog update, we caught a public bus out to Drepung Monastery, about 7 km west of Lhasa. From there, we did the short walk through the hills to Nechung Monastery. The walk was pretty fascinating . . . . hundreds of livestock (goats and yaks) and pilgrims (humans) crowded the one kilometer trail between the two monasteries. The pilgrims prayed and begged for Jiao notes (~$0.013/note, fortunately, we had acquired a pocketful before departing) and the animals were indifferent. A handful of ancient monks meditated in these hastily built earthen huts, who were also happy to catch the occasional Jiao. A few craftsman chipped away, engraving holy text into slate tablets. Just another morning in Lhasa.

That afternoon, we headed back into town in order to make our 4:20 entrance time to the Potala Palace. Much to my surprise, the palace was quite empty when we landed inside. I was kind of expecting 1.4 million Chinese tourists, but was pleasantly surprised by the fact that we only encountered a handful of tour groups, which happily blazed by at an Indy Speedway pace. Our favorite room in the palace was the teaching hall, where the Dalai Lama used to hold court before fleeing to India. The elaborite hall had a 20 foot ceiling, a lushly carpeted and padded floor for the monks, and a plush throne for the DL to drop his knowledge from . . . much better use of interior space than say a dining room.

The next morning, we set our sights on Mt. Melchiors (unofficialy renamed after we made the top). The 4,500 meter peak was located on the south side of town, affording sweeping views of Lhasa and the surrounding mountains. On our way up, we scored some massive kharma by helping a local get his dried juniper branches lit (common religious practice) by providing a couple sheets of dry paper. It took us about 3 hours to scramble up the 3,000 feet of elevation between the valley and peak. Up top, we snapped a few photos before making our way down the opposite side of the mountain, finally arriving in a small village around 8 km from Lhasa. Feeling a bit lazy, we caught a lift on top of a trailer of bricks being towed behind a tractor by an extremely nice Tibetan fellow.

That afternoon, we demolished several plates of tasty Indian on the rooftop terrace of the Dhood Gu Hotel, which is the city’s best place for sitting on your can and staring at the Potala. In the evening, we met up with the friendliest man in China, Rocky, at one of the local hotel restaurants, which was a great time as usual . . . we had bumped into him on the street that morning. He happened to be in Lhasa checking out used Landcruisers in pursuit of his newest business interest as an overland tour operator.

That pretty much wraps up our week in Lhasa. The town was great . . . we both fell in love with the place. The inspiring show of faith and overwhelming display of friendliness makes Lhasa formidably charming. Simply observing the infinite number of weathered and worn pilgrims around the Barkhor Square had to be our favorite activity in Lhasa. We even lucked out and got the tongue greeting from several of the ancient pilgrims (in the past, the Tibetans would stick their tongues out at each other to prove they weren’t evil demons, must have been tough for those without tongues). Another funny moment was when I was sitting on a stool next to a fruit stand, waiting for Megan to procure some oranges. An old lady was walking by and I pointed at the fruit and said “wu kwai” (5 yuan). She came over, laughed at me and threw her umbrella and bag in my lap, ordering me to attend to them while she shopped a bit. When she came to retrieve her belongings, I held up a 10 yuan note, demanding money for my services. She laughed at me once again, slapped me across the head with her purse and took her belongings. It was quite the show, certainly enjoyed by all.

Qomolongma, here we come.

The next day, we piled into a Landcruise at the Banok Shol and headed west down the Friendship Highway for Nepal. Our driver was a big, former lady’s man, Tibetan dude that we affectionately named “Big Red” for a couple of reasons: 1) he wore a big, bright red shirt, and 2) he drank Red Bulls like his life depended on it. Our guide was a slight Tibetan who spoke no more than 7 words of English. We landed in Gyatse, our first night’s destination, around 7:00 in the evening. Gyatse had some interesting historical sights involving a brief conflict between the Tibetans and British at the turn of the 20th century. However, I was more interested in getting a hot shower and cold beer. We crashed early in anticipation of the long day to follow. The next morning, we grabbed a bite around 7:00 and set off for Shigatse at 8:00. Once in Shigatse, we were set free for a couple of hours while our guide went to the police station and got all the necessary permits for us to enter western Tibet. While walking around the town, we determined that we should get our driver and guide small gift for 1) being super friendly, accomodating guys, and 2) not running the vehicle off a mountain yet. We bought several cans of Red Bull and a Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits cassette (Only English language cassette we could find in town. Yes . . . tape deck, no cd player. We later figured out the motivation for rocking the cassette player. There’s no way a CD would play on better than 50% of the roads we travelled.) for the two of them. Both the beverage and beats turned out to be big hits with the guys. After the permits were finally issued, we packed back in the rig and headed west again towards Lhatse. The plan was to crash at a little resort, equipped with bubbling hot springs, just east of Lhatse. Unfortunately, the place was closed which meant we had to head into town for food and lodging. Lhatse isn’t a big tourist destination, which is not a big surprise considering it’s a shithole. However, we lucked out and found the one decent restaurant in town, which also happened to have a massive plasma screen and DVD player. After dinner, Bryan ran back to our hotel and grabbed the short stack of movies from our room. We popped in Mr. Bean’s Holiday and within 5 minutes the whole restaurant was captivated by the bumbling adventures of Rowan Atkinson. For the next hour and a half, we didn’t hear a word out of any the Tibetans, just the grunts and moans of Mr. Bean and the laughter of our gang and the locals.

The next morning we set off for the primary destination of the trip, Mt. Everest Base Camp, situated at 16,900 feet of elevation on the north side of the mountain. Around 6:30 pm, we first laid eyes on the world’s highest mountain. The weather was affording us peak-a-boo views of the summit and partial views of the lower mountain. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a start. Megan, Bryan, Corina, and I hooted and hollered as the Landcruiser approached the mountain. The guide and driver chuckled at our enthusiasm.

We got checked into our tent guesthouse, the Hotel de California oddly enough, piled on warm clothes, sipped hot tea, and savored the remaining views of the mountain as darkness set in. We awoke the next morning to beautiful blue skies and crystal views of Everest. We hiked the 4 km trail from tent alley to the actual base camp, where we stared in awe at the mountain for a few hours, before making our way back for a late lunch. That afternoon, Megan and I slipped on swimsuits and bathed in the refreshing (ice-cold) glacier snow melt. The bathing episode was a quite a spectacle to the small local community. The children giggled and the old people stared . . . front page stuff if there was a morning paper. The next day, the weather cooperated again, and we hiked to Rongbuk Monastery, which also offered stunning views of the mountain. Another great day. That evening, we had a big gang over to our tent for a meal and beers. We ate fried rice with yak meat (for the 10th time since leaving Lhasa) and sipped on cold Lhasa Beer. We found a small cassette player, jammed out to MJ’s Greatest Hits, and enjoyed one another’s company.

Our first couple of full days on the mountain were spectacular. The views were incredible and no one croaked from acute mountain sickness due to the elevation . . . about as much as you can ask for. Unfortunately, when we awoke the third day, the weather didn’t look so promising. We had a relaxing morning, sent a handful of postcards off from the world’s highest post office, and waited for the weather to clear. Around 1:00, we had a quick pow wow with our guide and driver, came to the conclusion that the weather wasn’t going to cooperate, and decided to head off for Nepal a day early . . . . not much point staring into a sea of clouds even if Mt. Everest is standing behind it. The decision to leave wasn’t painful at all as we were all satisfied with the two remarkable days we had on the mountain. We were lucky to get them.

That afternoon, we loaded up the Landcruiser and set our sights on Tingri, the first major town on the Friendship Highway as you head west from Everest to Nepal. Although, our first attempts at a warm bath were spoiled in Lhatse, we lucked out in Tingri. We pulled up to the Snowlands Resort outside of town, checked in, dropped our bags in the rooms, and headed straight for the hot springs. Of course, it felt terrific. The next day, we took off from Tingri around 10:00, headed for the Nepal border. We arrived in Zhangmu, where our only goal was to find a hotel room that would afford us our first real shower in a week (most hotels don’t have showers in Tibet after you get out of Lhasa). We succeeded. My wife was very happy. I had a phenominal club sandwich for dinner (anything other than yak fried rice would have tasted phenominal) and we crashed around 10:00.

Nepal: Nice People, Lousy Weather

The night before we crossed into Nepal, it rained. It rained all night. A night of rain. Heavy rain. Lots of raining. Cats and dogs. Dogs and Cats. Rain, rain, rain.

The next morning, we got up, packed our bags, and did the short walk to the Chinese customs and immigration. After processing, we hopped into a minivan and headed down the 8 km mountain road to the border with Nepal. We walked across the Friendship Bridge into Nepal where we jumped through the necessary immigration hoops and set out to find a driver for the 110 km journey to Kathmandu. We found what seemed like a nice guy with a sturdy four wheel drive and headed south. About 6 km into the trip, we came across a raging river, a result of the 4 or 5 inches of rain (guess) we received the night before. Apparently, there was supposed to be a concrete bridge somewhere underneath that raging river. As our vehicle could not fly, the lack of bridge was not promising. We scratched our heads for a few minutes and came to the only possible conclusion . . . we ain’t going to Kathmandu. The driver dropped us back up the road a few kilometers at the Family Guest House. I wasn’t expecting much as the only reason anybody would stop at this place would be due to unforeseen circumstances (like a road being flooded). Fortunately, I was dead wrong. The place was great. Along with the four of us in the guest house was a Dutch family (mother, father, 8 and 12 year old daughters), who were also trying to get to Kathmandu. We all drank warm spiced tea, ate dal and rice, played cards, and waited for the water to go down. By late afternoon, it was clear that we were stuck for the night . . . . not such a bad fate.

The next morning, we headed down to the bridge . . . . still under running water, but not near as much water. We decided to head back to the guesthouse, give it four hours, then return and reasses. That afternoon, we headed back to the bridge, bags packed, confident we could get across where several 4WD’s waited to take travellers to Kathmandu. A large freight truck was shuttling people across the flooded bridge. We paid the 50 rupees each ($0.80) to get across and found a driver who would take us to Kathmandu. (For moms and dads: We were 100% confident that the truck would have no issue crossing the flooded bridge as we’d seen it make the journey half a dozen times.) We (Megan, myself, Dutch family . . . . Bryan and Corina bailed earlier, tired of waiting) tossed our packs in the roof rack and piled into the jeep. We took off in the pouring rain, headed to Kathmandu about 100 km away. We cruised along for about 20 minutes, at which point we came across a landslide, which obviously blocked the road. Things were not getting any easier. We grabbed our packs, which for me included a huge bag of jackets that I agreed to deliver to the Hotel de California manager’s family in Kathmandu, settled up with the driver, and set off down the 2 km of partially cleared road in order to find yet another driver who could take us to Kathmandu. I looked like a refugee walking with my pack on back, massive UNICEF bag, which used to hold pig feed, now full of knockoff $#@#$ %^$# jackets, on my head, tromping through the mud and heavy rain, wearing flip-flops, not so happy (but not crying) wife in tow. We finally made it across the obstructed section of road. Where the hell are the 4WDs and drivers? All we saw was public buses packed to the gills, trying to get a couple more desperate souls on board for the remaining 85 km to Kathmandu. Megan gave me that “no way in hell” look. I was on the same page. We kept walking, passing bus after bus. By slight miracle, we eventually encountered an empty minibus . . . 300 rupees to Kathmandu. Sign us up!!!!! The Dutch family and the two of us piled our bags and bodies in and we set off for Kathmandu . . . no more landslides, life was good.

Namaste.

We got into Kathmandu around 7:00, just as the day was ending. We caught a cab to the old district, Thamel, eventually checked into the Hotel Nana, and met up with our European buddies from base camp to celebrate one of their birthdays. We dined on steak and potatoes at K-Too, “probably the best steak house in town” as proclaimed by the sign above the entrance. The non-yak fried rice, slab of half decent beef was phenominal. After dinner, we sang happy birthday, Mark blew out the candles, and we all headed to Tom & Jerry’s (one of the oldest bars in town). The next day, we grabbed a late breakfast before starting the prep work for the next phase of the trip . . . the 17 day trek of the Annapurna Circuit in the heart of the Himalayas. In the afternoon, we got our entrance permit for the protected Annapurna Conservation Area. Afterwards, we got a few odds and ends (pack covers, rain pants for Megan, etc.) before meeting back up with the Dutch family at La Dolce Vita . . . .which I translate “damn good Italian food”. The Dutch four have become some of our favorite people we’ve met on the trip and we’ll be sad to say goodbye tonight.

I guess that brings us to the here and now. Tomorrow, we’ll catch a bus to Pokhara, where we’ll stay for one night, before stashing around 70% of our gear and heading off on the trek.

Looking forward: After the trek, we’re heading to India where we’ll play tourist a couple of weeks before heading to the far north to volunteer for four weeks or so. After we save the world, we’ll make our way back to Delhi where we catch a flight to Bangkok, spend a week or so on the beach (essential before heading back to the northwest IN THE WINTER), then jump one last flight back to good old Washington just in time to gain back the few lbs we’ve lost travelling by grotesquely inhaling several helpings of Thanksgiving dinner.

Current State of Mind = Happy

The eastern half of China was a bit of a bitch . . . dirty, smoggy, and pain in the ass to get around (the one thing I’ll say for China is that the people were really pleasant in general, not what I expected . . . other than the rich Chinese tourists who were unbelievably obnoxious). A couple great sights and some great people helped get us through. Landing in Yunnan Provence, on the eastern border of Tibet, was a breath of fresh air . . . . literally and figuratively. Things have only gotten better since then and the next couple of endeavors look promising as well.

Current State of Appearance

Megan = Megan
Rob = Grizzly Adams/Rob

Love and miss everybody . . . we’re out.

From China to Tibet

Southwest China – Yunnan Provence

Where we left off . . . I think I said we were going to chill in Lijiang for a couple days before heading onto Zhongdian to hire a jeep and driver for the beautiful 1,200 km route from Yunnan Provence to Lhasa, Tibet. Well, we made good on the first half of it, not so good on the second half . . . more on that later. Lijiang was a nice little town . . . a bit touristy for our tastes (July/August is the peak season for Chinese tourists and they were amassed in Lijiang by the thousands). After arriving, we met the nicest guy in China . . . Rocky Wang. Rocky helped Megan and I to the old quarter of the town. We were turning circles as I’d unfortunately identified the wrong bus station on the map as our current location. Anyways, each day Megan and I did our own thing, and each evening, we met up with Rocky and his girlfriend, Alice, for dinner and drinks. We eventually gifted our DVD player to Rocky, who was relocating from southeast China to Lijiang to start a business.

I’d have to say our most memorable experience in Lijiang was our epic quest for the Puji Si Monastery. Megan and I decided to play my little Cambodian game (rules: pick destination, no map, ask everybody on the street where destination is, go whatever direction they point you in). I knew the monastery was supposed to be about 5 km out of town, so I figured it wouldn’t be more than a 7 km walk there, even with a few instances of misdirection from the locals. Our 7 km walk quickly, well actually not so quickly, turned into a 17 km hike . . . . fortunately it was very, very flat. Eventually, we made our way to the quiet monastery, perched on the side of a ridge overlooking the valley. We walked through the monastery entrance and were the only folks in site. After a few minutes of roaming around, we were greeted by a Tibetan monk. This was no ordinary Tibetan monk . . . . he was a dwarf Tibetan monk, the first we had ever seen (actually, the only one we’ve seen). He invited us into the main shrine for a blessing, which was pretty cool. I can only assume that a dwarf Tibetan monk blessing contains extra special good luck . . . we’ll see. Following the blessing and a short tour of the monastery, we walked the direct route back into town, about 8 km to finish off the day.

You want to rent a jeep and driver do you?

We took an afternoon bus from Lijiang to Zhongdian . . . piece of cake. We got in around 5:00, checked into a hotel in the old quarter, then met up with Bryan Crosby at the Tibet Cafe. Bryan had posted a message on the Lonely Planet message board (magical method of internet communication) looking for people to do the overland trip to Lhasa. Bryan is a cool, layed back Canadian guy (not the kind with nineteen maple leaf patches stitched between backpack, clothes, and body) and the three of us (Megan, Bryan, and I) were optimistic we could arrange a jeep for the following week (the delay would allow us to backtrack a couple of hours and do a several day hiking trip in Tiger Leaping Gorge). The following day, we hit the streets in search of a respectable travel agency that could arrange the overland trip. We found several agencies, non respectable. In fact, most roads led us directly to Mr. Wu. If the other agents were rattlesnakes, Mr. Wu was a cobra . . . I swear the guy hissed when we entered his office. After dealing with the several agencies who could arrange such a trip, we decided that we’d rather go hunting with Dick Cheney than give business to any of these jerks. We came to the conclusion that we’d forego the jeep trip to Lhasa, opting to fly instead. Besides, we were planning on doing the jeep trip from Lhasa to the Nepal border in a bit, and who really needs two 1,000+ km jeep trips in the span of a month? After the day of frustration, we all decided a few days of hiking in Tiger Leaping Gorge was exactly what we needed. And, we were right. We caught a morning bus from Zhongdian to Qiatiou, about 2 1/2 hours back towards Lijiang. We stopped for a quick bite at Jane’s guesthouse before starting the 30 km trek (split between 2 days). After eating, we met a couple of super cool gals from California, Tanya and Shannette. The five of us teamed up and headed off for the trail around 3:00 pm. About 2 hours into the hike, we encountered the legendary “28 bends” (28 switchbacks, climbing approximately 3,000 ft of elevation). A couple hours and a couple gallons of sweat later, we arrived at the fabled stone where locals had seen the tiger leap the gorge. The scene was breathtaking . . . unobstructed views in both the upstream and downstream direction of the gorge. Picture two 10,000 foot of elevation ranges, both almost vertical, crowned with jagged peaks, sandwiched together with a raging river running between them . . . nice place. We burned up the megabytes for about half an hour before heading on towards our destination for the evening, Tea Horse Guesthouse. We arrived at the guesthouse around 8:00 pm, tired but satisfied form the incredible hike. The five of us enjoyed a great meal and rehydrated (beer and water) before calling it quits a few minutes before midnight.

The next morning, we set off for the remainder of the hike, which ended at Walnut Garden. After another 17 km of unreal views and friendly encounters with local villagers, we arrived at Sean’s Guesthouse in Walnut Garden around 5:00 pm. We showered up, ate a horse, then rehydrated again . . . another terrific day in the books. Our initial plan was to awake the next morning and catch a mini-bus back to Qiatiou along the lower road, which runs along the river, far below the trail. One slight issue was that a massive landslide had occurred on the lower part of the ridge which wiped out the road around 20 km from Qiatiou . . . what this meant was we had to hike back to the mid-way point on the trail, almost back to our first day’s destination, where we could then descend down to the lower road and find transporation back to town. We took our medicine and arrived on the lower road around 1:00 pm, where we caught a ride with a local guy driving his mini-freight truck back to Qiatiou. After consuming obscene amounts of food at Jane’s, we said goodbye to Tanya and Shannette and walked out to the highway to catch a local bus. We lucked out and a minivan driver pulled over and gave us a lift back to Zhongdian in style (just us sprawled out on reclined captain chairs . . . . no shoulder to shoulder, dirty dude next to you chainsmoking, crappy movie playing local bus action). It was heaven . . . God, our standards have really plummeted.

Zhongdian Part II

We checked back into the same hotel in Zhongdian. We had 3 full days to relax and get ready for the trip to Tibet. Our first day was spent doing laundry, catching up on e-mail, and relaxing around town. The second day, we rented bikes and did the short ride up to Napa Sea (lake), about 10 km north of Zhongdian. The roads were empty and the scenery was great. After leaving the lake, we decided to take a shortcut (to avoid the pass we had to cross on our way to Napa Sea) around a ridge towards the big monastery northeast of town. We stopped after a bit for a picnic lunch, then continued onto the monastery. Everything was going well until the road turned into a bumpy, muddy mess, devestated by the various yak herds and occasional freight truck that travelled it. I faired pretty well on the sloppy track . . . . Megan faired pretty poorly. However, she successfully turned both herself and her bike into the 2 muddiest things in China (slight exageration, but only slight). The pictures are great. We got Megan cleaned up, had a good laugh, and eventually cruised by the monastery and made our way back into town. Our last day, we both plopped on a comfy couch next to the fire in the Raven (terrific little bar in Zhongdian, actually owned by a lady from Seattle) and burned through a couple of good books and pots of tea.

Off to Lhasa

The next morning, we caught a 10:35 flight to Lhasa . . . the spiritual center of Tibet. We arrived at the airport (about 100 km from Lhasa) around 12:30, grabbed our bags, and caught a bus to town. The bus pulled up next to the Potala Palace (the former center of the Tibetan government and residence of the Dalia Lama . . . one of the architectural wonders of the world) around 2:30. We found a comfortable place to stay and set off for a walk around the old part of town. Lhasa is an incredible place, situated at 12,000 feet of elevation in the foothills of the Himalayas . . . Bhuddist pilgrims from throughout Tibet and the rest of the world make the long journey here to walk the sacred streets around the many temples and monasteries around town. The people watching here is second to none. I can’t begin to describe all the interesting things/people we’ve seen here.

Up to this point, the most unique ritual we’ve seen is the debating of the monks at the Sera Monastery, a few miles out of town.. Everyday from 3 to 5 p.m., the hundreds of monks that reside within the monastery gather in the debating courtyard. Once there, they split up in pairs, with one seated and the other standing. Each pair had their own unique style of debate, but the general theme was the standing monk would ramble on and on in a very animated fashion, frequently winding up like a baseball picher and slapping his hands directly in front of the seated monk’s face . . . . the courtyard sounded like grease popping in a frying pan, magnified a hundred times, with all those hands continually clapping. It was cultural entertainment at its finest . . . to us at least.

What’s next?

We’ve got a few more days here in Lhasa before we head west. Tomorrow, we’re going to rent bikes and check out the countryside before heading into the Potala Palace (we waited in line this morning for tickets, always issued for the next day, and got 4:20 entry passes for tomorrow). After that, we’ll have a couple days to prepare for what ensures to be a huge highlight of the trip . . . the jeep trip from Lhasa to the Nepal border via Everest Base Camp. Yesterday, Bryan, Megan, Corina (Bryan’s friend) and I arranged an 8 day trip, including 4 full days at base camp, to the border . . . . we can’t wait. Once in Nepal, we’ll catch a bus or taxi to Kathmandu before heading on to Pocera where we’ll start the two week hike of the Annapurna Range Circuit. The next few weeks will be Himalayas, Himalayas, and more Himalayas. Awesome, Awesome, and more Awesome.

From Behind the Red Curtain . . .

Smog City

Welcome to China! We arrived into Beijing West Train Station around 3:00 in the afternoon on July 27th. First priority: ATM. After taking a pedestrian bridge over the 12 lane boulevard that parallels the train station, we paused to snap a quick photo. Upon reviewing the picture, it struck home that we could barely see the station behind Megan, only 100 meters away. It looked like a dense fog blanketed the city . . . unfortunately, it was smog. However, a little pollution wasn’t going to get us down . . . we were determined to overcome the lung-wrenching air and see the best of the city.

The next morning, we walked over to Tiananmen Square, which is apparently the world’s largest square . . . According to Mao Zedong, the size of the square is supposed to represent the massive nature and uniting force of his communist party. To me, it represented the center of the Chinese tourist world. Holy cow . . . half of China was in the square, taking family photos, flying kites, eating popsicles. Since then, we’ve realized that it was more like 0.00000003168% of the population. The remainder of the 1.3 billion people are spread evenly between train stations, McDonalds, bus stations, KFCs, and every hotel we try to reserve a room at (and every hotel at which we try to reserve a room . . . Thank you Megan).

Moving on, that afternoon we did a nice walk along a section of the old city wall, built over 600 years ago during the Ming Dynasty. The highlight of the walk was watching little kids swipe fruit and bolt from the local produce vendors . . . little devils.

Our second and third days in Beijing were spent searching for working internet, doing the last blog update, and applying for our India visas. The only notable event was on Monday when we thought we were well up number two creek without a paddle, finding ourselves short 100 yuan ($12) in line with our visa applications with about 2 minutes before the visa office closed (only open 2 1/2 hours a day, we waited in line for 2 hours outside to get in the application office). The consequence of not getting the forms in on Monday would have been to stay over the upcoming weekend, waiting for our approved visas to be issued the following Monday . . . not an option. 2 bonus days in Beijing were not high on our list. We’ve seen thousands of panhandlers this trip . . . at this point, it was my turn to beg. I took a 100 yuan note and aggressively pursued a loan from the other applicants in line. It was not looking good. After the first 7 or 8 people gave me the “I might as well be talking to a wall” look, a most generous man saved my bacon. He even refused to allow repayment of the loan, which I was in no way allowing. After getting the forms and money in, I acquired some cash and paid the Saint of Smog City back his 100 yuan.

On day 4, after a crap night of sleep, we awoke with plugged sinuses and sore throats. We got an early start, leaving the hotel around 7:00 am for the Dongzhimen bus station. We caught the 916 to Miyun, about 80 kilometers northeast of the city. From there, we hired a taxi to take us the remaining 65 kilometers to Jinshaling, the starting point of our 10 kilometer walk atop the Great Wall. This was a big day (we needed to rebound from the city air and frustrations of the last couple of days).

As children, the Great Wall was the first thing we learned about on this side of the world . . . expectations were sky high. Fortunately, the wall delivered. The hike was great, pretty amazing to think about the history underneath the hundreds of thousands of stones we passed over on our way to Simatai. The sunny skies and clear air provided unbelievable views of the surrounding area and the wall as it chased up and down the distant mountains.

The highlights of the remaining couple of days in Beijing include a visit to the Forbidden City, a self-guided bike trip of old Beijing which included a stop at Wal-Mart, and catching an acrobatics show.

The Forbidden City was okay, a little disappointing in fact. The bike trip was good. We pedaled through the ancient streets (hutongs) north of the Forbidden City, getting a glimpse of Peking life before the 20th century. I also integrated a stop-off at Wal-Mart into the bike trip, straying from the Lonely Planet tour route. The Wal-Mart visit was great. In fact, if I had to choose between visiting the Forbidden City and Wal-Mart, it would be a no-brainer. Does the Forbidden City have Every Day Low Prices? I don’t think so. Megan was also a big fan of Wal-Mart (she discovered that Magnum ice cream bars were on sale for 4 yuan, <$0.50, best price in Asia). Our last evening, we went to the Tianqiao Acrobatics Theater, which was superb . . . Megan informed me that the Chinese gymnastics teams are pretty tough in the Olympics, which made complete sense watching the show. I’m recommending that all my single male friends move to Beijing and marry female Chinese acrobats.

After a week in Beijing, we shared the following conclusions . . . the Beijing air sucks (picture Olympic athletes with oxygen masks), the Great Wall is an incredible thing to see, and McDonalds and Wal-Mart are universally adored.

Westward Ho!

Alright, we picked up our passports from the Indian Embassy on a Friday around 4:00 pm, caught a taxi to the train station, and boarded an overnight train for Pingyao. We shared a sleeper cabin with a friendly Chinese family, who spoke at appropriate volumes and didn’t abuse the word “doi” (which I found out means okay, uh-huh, yeah, etc.). One of the little girls spoke pretty good English. When I complimented her, she told me she preferred to speak French, which she was also studying school. It surprised her (and me) when I was able to recall a bit of French from my high school days . . . or maybe she just humored me.

We got into Pingyao around 6:00 am, and headed towards Yamen Hostel, where we had reserved a double with bath from Beijing. After checking in, we crashed for a couple of hours. That afternoon, we walked about the old town, which was the banking center of China for a good chunk of its early history (yet had no ATMs). The picturesque place reminded us of Hoi An, Vietnam (minus the tailors) . . . very quaint, touristy, welcoming. We strolled around, tried local foods, and played tourist. That evening, we ran into our friend JingJing (a local from Xi’An, works for an American preparing a new hostel for grand opening), who we met on our way to the hostel that morning, and enjoyed a couple of drinks before calling it an early night. The next day, we caught the 9:00 mass at the local Catholic Church, did a walk around the city wall, then headed back to the hostel for some R&R. Back at the hostel, we met a couple friendly guys, Mark (Australian) and Zac (Hawaiin) who recommended we check out the Sheun Ling Temple a short ways outside town. We took the suggestion, borrowed their bikes, and did the 30 minute ride out to the temple. The temple was so-so. Afterwards, we got an ice cream, then did the ride back into town. That evening, we went out with a big group from the hostel. A couple of the locals took us to eat at one of their favorite street vendors . . . digestive Russian roulette (fortunately, no problems occurred). Afterwards, the whole gang headed to a bar for a fun evening, which included a female British stripper running around the table in her underwear among other things. We also learned how to play a drinking game call “Birdwatching Game”, unrelated to the British stripper.

The next day we caught a bus to Xi”An (home of the Terra-Cota Warriors).

Quick Stop in Xi’An

We got into Xi’An around 6:30 pm, headed to the train station to buy tickets to Kunming (next destination), found out all sleeper tickets had been booked 10 days out, grabbed a quick bite, then made our way to the Xiang Zi Men hostel. The next day, Megan, Mark (Aussie from Pingyao), and I caught a bus out to the site of the Terra-Cota Warriors. Around 2000 years ago, a true badass (Emperor Qin) united all the various kingdoms spread out over modern day China, which was kind of a big accomplishment, so they say. He was a bit paranoid. So he ordered up a couple things: 1) construction of the Great Wall and 2) construction of a massive tomb with thousands of warriors to protect him in death. The tomb is actually 3 gigantic chambers, with the largest holding over 6,000 terra-cota warriors for the emperor’s post-mortem protection. You’ll have to check out the pictures.

Megan just reminded me . . . a cool fact about the terra-cota warriors is that they weren’t discovered until 1974 when a peasant, digging a well, broke through to one of the open tomb chambers. Today, the site is still in the process of excavation with approximately 30% still undercover. In spite of my encyclopedic knowledge of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, I will admit that I still don’t know what terra-cota means.

That evening, we met up again with JingJing, who had arrived back in Xi’An that morning, along with several other travelers we met in Pingyao. JingJing took us all out to her favorite restaurant for a delicious Chinese meal.

Time for a Break

The next afternoon, we caught a flight to Kunming. We arrived in the city around 9:00, checked out a couple of places before settling on the Camellia Hotel. While Megan was getting things settled in the room, I went down to check us in. When it came time to pay, they demanded a higher price than earlier agreed upon. I wasn’t having it. I headed back up to the room. We grabbed our things and left. This turned out to be a really bad decision on my part for a couple of reasons. Reason 1: Megan informed me that she didn’t think the lady had agreed to my understood rate. There is still debate over this point. Reason 2: The far more damning issue with our walkout was the fact that everything else seemed to be booked up. There is no debate over this point. After hiking all over the city, we finally found a hostel around 11:30 with a couple of dorm beds available . . . not the most desirable situation. On top of it all, Megan jacked her shin up on a steel tube protruding from the sidewalk. The tears were flowing . . . tough evening with zero chance of recovery for the Robmeister. Eventually, we both made our way to bed (in separate dorms), agreeing to meet up in the restaurant the next morning.

I didn’t sleep too well. I rolled out of bed the next morning around 6:30, grabbed some Mickey D’s coffee, and began my search for a really comfortable hotel room where we could rest, relax, and decongest (we had finally traveled far enough west to get out of the bad pollution). I found us an apartment hotel room in the city center and headed back to the hostel. It was around 7:30 at this time and Megan was nowhere to be seen, still sleeping away. I grabbed our dirty laundry and headed for the hostel laundry room, where I completed the first of two loads before Megan awoke. I told her of my valiant husbandly deeds, which successfully extracted me from the dog house. We sat down for a bit of breakfast while the second load finished up, then headed to the hotel to check in. We spent the next 48 hours doing nothing. We watched DVDs nonstop (on the DVD player that I happened to buy in Beijing at you know where); ate PB&Js for lunch, takeout for dinner, and chocolate ice cream and coke floats for dessert; and took obscenely long hot showers. It was great. We checked out of the hotel yesterday feeling like champions . . . heads clear and sinuses open.

Himalayas . . . Here we come!

Last night, we caught a night bus to Lijiang. We both slept well and arrived in Lijiang shortly after 7:00. We’re going to tool around here a couple of days before heading to Zhongdian to meet up with a couple of people and investigate hiring a jeep for the 1,200 kilometer journey to Lhasa, Tibet.

I’m guessing that our next blog update will take place in Lhasa, Tibet . . . “The Rooftop of the World” . . . or maybe India at current publishing frequency.

Alright, all done for now.

Long time, no write

Holy Smokes . . . . my publisher (wife) has been riding my ass for the last few weeks, need to get the next update finished. Here we go. I’ll try to touch on the highlights from the last couple of months . . . since we last left off, we’ve been in Vang Vien and Vientienne (Laos), the islands in the Gulf of Thailand and Andaman Sea (Thailand), and onto Macau, Hong Kong, and our current location, Beijing.

Beerlao, Buckets, and Ropeswings

Our next stop after the culturally steeped town of Luang Prabang was Vang Vien. A stark contrast to Luang Prabang, Vang Vien is the cultural armpit of Southeast Asia. It is known for drunken tubing trips down the local river and tacky restaurant bars which feature continuous episodes of Friends (sequentially by season) 24/7. We loved it!!!! The Vang Vien River has been exploited to its fullest potential by the local population. Every 100 to 200 meters along this beautiful cliff-lined river, there is a rocking bar serving up ice cold 24 oz Beerlaos and Buckets (coke, half pint of Laos Loas Whiskey, and red bull) at ridiculously low prices. Each bar has constructed a rope swing for its intoxicated patrons. These swings are not of the YMCA summer camp variety. They are of the Sears Tower variety, built of the finest Laos construction materials (bamboo, reused 2x4’s and nails, duct tape, bailing wire, and a makeshift trapeze bar).

We jumped in the tubes about 3 miles upstream of town. After a brief 2 minute float downriver, we arrived at the first bar. We stopped, had a beverage, and swung. The platform for the first swing was a mere 7 or 8 feets above the river . . . a couple deep breaths, superman grip, and slight jump and off you go . . . splash. Good fun.

We repeated this stop at a bar, drink, swing routine many, many times. By the end of the day, we had graduated to the biggest swing on the river. The platform on this guy was a good 20 feet above the river, with the boom for the cable extended out to the middle of the river, raised about 40 feet vertically. It was awesome . . . . . we swung, covering about 60 feet horizontally, before releasing at the highest point of the swing and floating down to the waiting river. Very good fun.

We were amazed by the local bar workers who pulled off Cirque de Soleil style moves (double back flips, you name it). There was no way to rival them, but I did my best. Remember that beer commercial from the early 90’s where several guys are out on the dance floor trying to impress an attractive group of ladies . . . one of the guys grabs his right foot with his right hand, and starts jerking it behind his back in beat with the music. This move has been patronized many times over the years by mediocre dancers (like myself) to get a good laugh out on the hardwood. Shamelessly, I used this timeless classic once again, midair off the big swing . . . and although it was no double back flip, the crowd reaction to my act of idiocy was every bit as boisterous.

24 hours in Vientienne

After 4 days of tubing and Friends, we couldn’t stand another minute in Vang Vien (I was beginning to hear Phoebe sing her cafe songs, Smelly Cat specifically, in my sleep). We booked a kayaking trip down the Nam Lik River, en route to the nation’s capital, Vientienne. The kayaking trip turned out to be great. We paddled for a couple hours through class I, II, and III rapids before stopping for a delicous barbecue lunch. Afterwards, we floated the last couple miles down to the takeout, where transportation to Vientienne awaited.

The kayaking was a blast as the river was rocking pretty good in places. Megan and I handled our inflated 2 person kayak with 2 parts grace / 1 part chaos through the swift sections. Our guide was fairly surprised we didn’t roll (so were we).

Upon arrival in Vientienne, we found the city lived up to other traveller reviews . . . it’s okay. We found a nice hotel and splurged out for a delicous French dinner. The next day, we bought a couple pieces of art, checked out the sights, did a couple errands, and booked an overnight bus trip to Bangkok.

Operation Unwind

My wonderful, incredible, amazing, patient (most of the time) wife had endured 4 months of backpacking throughout Northern Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos. It was great . . . good places, good people, good food. But, both of us were getting tired, so our arrival back into Thailand couldn’t have come at a better time . . . . 30 days of island life was exactly what the doctor ordered. We got into Bangkok around 5:00 am, caught a quick nap and shower, did a bit of shopping, saw Ocean’s 13 at the cinema, then jumped on another overnight bus/boat trip to Koh Tao, our first destination in the Gulf of Thailand.

We landed on Koh Tao around 9:30 am, then caught a short ferry ride to Nan Yuan Islands (national park reserve) about 1 km off the west coast of Koh Tao. Once we got into our bungalow, dropped our packs, and returned to a deserted strip of beach, we began a four week course of intense relaxation.

We spent a total of 6 days between Nan Yuan and Koh Tao. When the sun was shining, we laid on the beach. When it rained (which it did a couple hours a day), we lazed away the day on our bungalow balconies, peeling our eyes off our novels occasionally to take in the endless landscape of turquiose water. It was great. I’m becoming relaxed just thinking about it.

Our next stop in Operation Unwind, was Koh Phangan, the legendary backpacker island tucked between Koh Tao and Koh Samui. After getting off the ferry, we caught a sangthaw (Thai word for truck with benches in the back) to Chalok Lam, a beach on the north side of the island. It was there we stumbled across our good friend Tom. We stayed a couple nights in Chalok Lam, saying a long goodbye before Tom headed off the island en route to England and we caught a quick longtail boat ride to Bottle Beach, our new favorite place in the universe.

The secluded 400 meter strip of white sand known as Bottle Beach is only accessible by boat, keeping the crowds very small. Four tidy bungalow resorts provide accomodation and dining along this blissful bit of beach. The next week was a wonderful combination of beach/water by day, party by night.

We met a terrific group of Irishmen, late twenty-somethings who also had “real” jobs before setting off on a similar journey. We spent a great deal of time swapping stories over beers . . . many good laughs. Each evening, around 9 o’clock, the small resort on the west end of the beach cranked up pretty good . . . the music and dancing carried on late into the night (4 or 5 am for most, later for others) before the beach’s rowdy inhabitants crawled back to the quiet comfort of their bungalows. Bottle Beach was great, for both of us . . . . terrific fun in a spectacular setting, like a tamed down spring break for post grads.

2 1/2 weeks into the relaxapalooza, we caught a boat/bus combo to Krabie, situated on the west side of the Thai peninsula, surrounded by the Andaman Sea. From there, we caught another longtail boat to Rai Lay Beach. We found a comfy cabin room in one of the resorts on East Rai Lay beach. We spent a majority of the 3 days there wasting space by the resort pool . . . tough life.

After Rai Lay, we headed to Koh Phi Phi Don. 4 more days of beach/pool time in paradise. Our big burst of activity came on our third day when we took a boat tour of Phi Phi Lei, including a stop in Maya Bay (from the movie The Beach) and several snorkeling stops (lots of pretty fishies). I think our heart rates got over 70 bpm at a couple points during the boat tour.

With a few days left on our 30 day visas, we caught a boat over to Phuket to spend our final few days on Karon Beach, still our favorite beach in Thailand for sitting on a beach chair and rotating between reading and napping.

It was a great month . . . we consumed lots of tasty Thai food (chicken for Megan, seafood for Rob), terrific books (about 10 novels each), enough sun to keep an army of dermatoligists employed in about 30 to 50 years, countless hours of sleep (we haven’t taken that many naps since kindergarten), and enough beer and boat drinks to put a smile on anyone’s face.

Bright Lights, Big Cities

On the 19th of July, we boarded an Air Asia flight to Macau, “Vegas of the Orient”. We spent our first day in Macau recovering from our last night in Bangkok (we ran into the Bottle Beach Irishmen on Khao San Road, wound up staying out until around 3 am). The next day, we took in the historic sights of this old Portuguese colony. Macau reminded me a lot of Lisbon (no surprise) . . . similar architecture spread out over a hilly, seaside setting . . . but with lots of Asian people instead. We really enjoyed touring around the town.

That evening, we put our finest clothes on (cargo pants, clean shirts, and low cut hiking boots) and headed off for the casinos. Our first stop was the Macau Sands. We wound up spending around 3 hours between the blackjack tables and entertainment lounge (mostly at the bar). The place really picked up around 11 pm. Around 12:30, we caught a cab to the new Wynn casino to check things out there. The Wynn is stunningly beautiful. Unfortunatetly, it was even more boring than pretty. We walked across the street to the Galaxy Casino to see what things were like there, but nothing was measuring up to the Sands. Therefore, we jumped in the next cab and headed back to the Sands where we finished off the night. Over the course of the night, I cobbled together a grand total of $400 HK in winnings ($50 US), which paid for our dining, drinks, and cabs for the evening.

The next day, we boarded a ferry for Hong Kong. We landed in Kowloon, Hong Kong around 2:00 pm and found a room in the Chungking Mansions (which would be more suitably named the Chungking Projects). The Chungking Mansions is unlike any place Megan and I had ever been. I’m guessing there are around 150 guesthouses spread out over 16 floors of the massive highrise on the main drag, Nathan Road, in Kowloon. We found a small room in the Park Guest House, located on the 15th floor. Our room was about 70 sq ft total, including the 10 sq ft bathroom (i.e. enclosed toilet with showerhead above) . . . fortunately, it was clean. As a whole, the Chungking Mansions was a third travellers, a third relocated Indian watch and suit hawkers, and a third African personal electronics exporters . . . quite an ecclectic blend.

We spent the next three days touring around Hong Kong . . . it was a blast. The Kowloon/Hong Kong area is incredibly modern, a nice break from the last five months. We consumed salads, vegetable soup, and deli sandwiches at astounding rates and even treated ourselves to Starbucks Coffee. The sights were great . . . getting from Point A to B is half the adventure in Kowloon and Hong Kong. There’s the Star Ferry across Victoria Harbour, the subway system, the street trams, and the world’s largest escalator (800 meters long) to shuttle you around the picturesque blend of hills and water.

Our highlights were the trip up to Victoria Peak and our night at the dance hall. Victoria Peak rises up behind Hong Kong proper, providing spectacular city and country views for 360 degrees. We did a nice 3 km walk around the peak, which provided numerous peaceful vistas of the surrounding area. Back at the main viewing station, we dined at one of the world’s favorite culinary institutions, McDonald’s (Big Mac for me, grilled chicken salad for Megan). I’m quite certain that we will never eat at another McDonald’s affording such a beautiful view from its elevated, outside seating area. The previous evening, we had gone to the Hong Kong Cultural Center to see the QingMing Riverside performance by the Hong Kong Dance Company. We scored some great seats last minute for the show, which the two of us knew nothing about. The show turned out to be really impressive . . . . a very cool combination of dancing, acrobatics, costumes, and props. Our final night in Hong Kong, we were treated to an incredible night at the Sheraton, a one year anniversay present form Mark and Weedy. We felt like Little Orphan Annie moving into Daddy Warbucks Mansion. We picked up a bottle of wine, some takeout, and chocolate and enjoyed a quiet dinner from our room with a view across Victoria Harbor towards Hong Kong. It was ggggggggggrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttttttttt.

Oh yeah, yeah, yeah . . . Our other highlight was the semi-chance encounter of our good friend Laura Quigg Fisher. We got an e-mail from Laura the day we arrived in Hong Kong informing us that she was going to be in Hong Kong for work in a couple of days. Were we around? We spent a few hours with Laura her first afternoon in town before jet lag caught up with her. The next night, we went out for dinner and drinks. It was great seeing Laura, catching up on everything back in Washington.

doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi, doi

After checking out of the Sheraton, we headed to Hung Lom station . . . . we caught the 24 hour overnight express train to Beijing. We had the top bunks in a sleeper cart, which actually turned out to be a really comfortable hideout for the 2,500 kilometer journey. My only complaint was the little old lady in one of the bottom bunks . . . she needed to 1) turn up the hearing aids (can you say LOUD talker) and 2) put a cork in it. She talked non-stop 16 of the 24 hours. Fortunately, the 8 hours she took off were from 11 pm to 7 am. I bet I heard her say the word “doi” 18,000 times. Whatever the hell that means?

Okay, I think I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome (I don’t think our traveller’s insurance covers that) so I’m gonna break it off shorty.

Beijing’s been nice so far. We apply for our India visas tomorrow. In the next couple of days, we’re going to visit the must sees (Great Wall, Forbidden City, etc.) before heading west.