"This city is a melee of the senses!" Lisa said that to me on our first night out after saying goodbye to the ODFL kids. I realize that I am making a habit of begining my postings with a quote, but this statement has stuck with me. It sums up my experience in Hong Kong so well that I had to repeat it in the introductory paragraph. Please allow me to paint a picture of this city after dark.
Its sometime after midnight and you are sitting on a stool in a purple bar filled with hipster Chinese people. You are the only white person in the place, yet no one, including the bartenders, will acknowledge that you are not invisible. This could plausibly be because they do not speak English, but you know that the real reason is because your first beer, cheapest on the menu, cost all the money you had. Normally, you would have already left for home feeling a little disgruntled, but the entertainment is so over the top that its enough to keep you in your chair for a while. There is a band play all the "hits" of the 70s and 80s... Here are some of the songs from their set list, hopefully you will be able to understand why I used the quotation marks. "Smoke on the Water" by God knows who, Air Supply's classic "I'm All Out of Love," "Careless Whisper" by WHAM and of course, my dad's personal favorite, "Hotel California" by The Eagles. Why does everyone love The Eagles so much? I don't get it. Please do not forget that this is in Hong Kong and all those stereotypical accents that you've heard all your life are making it exceedingly difficult to keep a straight face as you observe this strange scene. The 40+ year old business men dancing and jumping up and down to the encore choice of "Mone Mone" does not make it easy either.
But this is Hong Kong, a place where everything I saw and did over the six days that I was there was... unique. Maybe I am not inspired, maybe my time there was too short, or maybe I am still not far enough removed from it all, but I don't know how to describe these days "classic" format for a story. By that, I mean that I am choosing out of laziness to skip the beginning middle and end in favor of relaying a few of my favorite points.
I'll start by describing our hotel, the Chung King Mansion. Please do not be fooled by the name, I do not understand why this building has not either been condemned or fallen down on its own recognisance. Its a dingy skyscraper in the middle of downtown with budget accomodation on every floor. Have you ever shown up to the hotel where you reserved a room, one that charged you a booking fee, only to find that it is a pile of rubble? I'm guessing not, but now I can say that I have. We were forced to improvise and find a new place right off the bat. The ground floor was a dirty maze of shops that all sell the same crap. Each store looks identical to the next and you can't help but wonder constantly where you are. The population in this building is almost entirely African people wearing brightly colored Dashikis (Sp?), which I found odd. There are only two elevators that service all 16 floors and there is always a line to get in. I don't mean to be morbid, but they feel like a steel coffin. You stuff yourself in there with WAY too many stinky people,take a deep breath as the doors close, make peace with God, and pray that the cords don't snap before your floor. What can you do, though? These are the only cheap places in town.
Our room was actually okay. By okay, I mean it didn't smell THAT bad, and it was semi clean, in that I never saw any cockroaches. So it exceeded our extremely low expectations. We even had an alarm clock. It went off every morning at 9:05am and sounded just like a jackhammer outside our window... actually, it was a jackhammer outside our window. They were building the hotel that stole my booking fee on the floor below us. There was at even a sense of security (our door locked), or so we thought. The lobby is the classic hotel style where you drop off your key each time you leave and pick it up when you return. For this to work, though, you need someone at the reception at all times. I ran up to the room after dinner one night, only to find that I was the sole person in the lobby. Hmmmm.... who is guarding our key? So I started shuffling my feet, clearing my throat, and anything else that might alert someone of my presence... nothing.... "Hello? ... still nothing... "HEELLLOOOO!!!!!" ... If anyone was there, they would have heard me. So I climbed over the desk, searched through all the drawers, found my room key, opened my door, grabbed all my valuables, and returned the key where I found it without anyone knowing what had happened. This became the routine for the remainder of the trip... Don't ask why I didn't just hold onto the key.
My friend Trevor lives in Hong Kong and was our host each evening. For those that don't know Trevor, he is my first friend. We grew up across the street from each other and used to be inseparable. My passing through was a long overdue chance to catch up. It was also an opportunity for me to tease him about how he always cheated at Monopoly and never let me play with his coolest toys. So I got some closure. I can't think of a better way to discover a city than to do it with someone that already has. Trevor took us all over. We bartered in street markets and ate 5 or more meals a day, during which time I tried jellyfish, 1000 year old egg, frog ovaries, and God knows what else. I also redefined the word "spicy." I spent 6 straight days with sweat rolling down my face, rarely because of the humidity.
Did I mention that you can drink beer in the streets? Convenience stores sell it on every corner. Also, I'd like to reiterate that it was the middle of the monsoon. After 3 weeks of the "monsoon" in Nepal, I thought I knew what to expect... I was wrong. It rained CONSTANTLY, and I use that word in its literal definition. But it added to the surreality of everything we did. We spent more than one night wandering aimlessly under neon lights in the rain. We would stare up at it all with an umbrella in one hand and a beer in the other... I can think of worse things.
It was a great time and I was sad to leave. Not that sad, though, because our next destination was Indonesia. Of course, we stayed out all night before our flight taking shots in a -20 degree freezer while wearing fur coats and dancing to a Filipino band as they played "Come on Eileen." I'm entirely too old to rally after that sort evening, I don't know if anyone is that young. But who could pass up an experience like that? As if that wasn't enough to make us miss our flight, we only gave ourselves an hour to go through customs in Malaysia before catching our connection. We got a lot of angry looks as we held our American passports up like badges cut 400 people in line. We may have had to make a scene, and we kept the plane waiting on the runway for a half hour just for us, but we made it. They even reopened the luggage rack for our bags. I'd love to write more about my time here in Indonesia. It has been wild, but I sense that this chapter is not yet complete. Stay tuned.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Wow
There are a few new pics in the Nepal ODFL link... I'll upload more when I get a chance.
"Mike...Mike," these words are among the loud noises coming from the "cool kids" in the back of the bus. My seat, as usual, is in the very front. You may recall from your days in high school that this row is specifically reserved for dorks and teachers... its a perfect fit for me. I've made a policy of never answering the first time someone calls my name, so I give it a second to see if this kid, whose name is Katie in this instance, can find their own answer to whatever question they may have... "Mike... Mike!!!" Apparently she cannot. I turn my head back and make I eye contact. This wordless response is my way of letting her know that I am listening, but also that I know where this conversation is headed. "Will it rain in the village?" Its the monsoon season here in Nepal and rains every day so I know that she is joking. All good jokes, however, start with a grain of truth. When we first got here, I made the mistake of pointing out that many questions in this seemingly endless chorus could be answered before they get to me... But they love to tease me so the number of silly questions has reached astronomical proportions. I always play along, first because its funny and I make a good straight man, and second because its the easiest way to keep 14 high school students that haven't showered in a week happy. These sorts of interactions were the norm for us. We laughed a lot... it was usually at my expense.
It took us just over 36 hours of planes and layovers to reach Kathmandu. A combination of sleep deprivation and the fact that it is not possible to get much farther from home made the culture shock run rampant. My first impressions when we stepped out of the airport are that its hotter, darker and muggier than I remember. The ongoing sanitation strike in Kathmandu means more smells and piles of garbage than usual in the narrow streets. My feelings of apprehension blended nicely with the humidity in the air. There are sixteen people on this trip, one teacher, fourteen students from California, and me. I am the only one that has been here before and I can't help but wonder what they are thinking if these are my impressions. Thankfully, it was not a very long bus ride, and all those negative feelings were washed off of us as we entered the air conditioned lobby of the nicest hotel in Kathmandu... We are going to be OK.
If I were to provide a theme to our experiences in Nepal, it would have to be the amazing contrast that we felt as we went from one place to the next. There is no better example of this than sitting in the serenity of the courtyard in our hotel (the former Royal Palace) and listening to the muffled sounds of horns and traffic on the other side of the wall. We spent our first few days between these two extremes, venturing out into the chaotic city and enjoying the swimming pool at the hotel. The former is where the real adventure of travel lies, but it was nice to be able to leave one for the other.
It was during this time that I had my first "I'm back in Nepal" moment. We had stopped along the side of the road for no reason whatsoever, at least as far as I could tell. These sorts of things happen all the time. They could drive a person crazy if they don't go with the flow, so I found myself a seat in the mud and took in the scene. On the highway in front of me were taxis, cows, elaborately decorated semis, motorcycles, bicycles and a man herding goats... somehow no one ever gets hit (at least not as much as you would think). The pollution and sediment in the air can make your throat raw and all the buildings that I could see were covered in advertisements. Meanwhile, the bus drivers use their horns constantly. They provide the urban soundtrack here and come in all sorts of pitches and funny little jingles. On the horizon, though, is a glimpse of the other side of this country. I could see green hills stratified with rice farms. Many people would say that this scene in the distance is where "the real Nepal" is, but there is a lot to experience on the side of the road too if you just sit there and take it all in for a minute. Our next destination, however, was straight into those hills.
We left our amenities behind on day four and set out for the village of Dalsinghe (Dall-sing-gee). Our new setting was beautiful, the hills were scattered with houses and there are no roads. Its the kind of place that fills your stomach with butterflies and "there is a god" thoughts from the moment you step off of the bus. We split the kids into pairs and sent them off in various directions to meet their home stay families and explore the area. Our new accommodations were a far cry from Kathmandu. The "beds" were literally wooden planks with a thin blanket for a mattress, and there was no running water. Many of the homes kept their goats and bulls on the ground floor, so there was an omnipresent scent that is hard to describe. There was very little, if any, English spoken in the village which made for a few awkward afternoon teas... I just tried to smile a lot and play with the children as much as possible.
Perhaps the most pleasant surprise, though, was to see the school that our fundraising efforts helped build. In Nepal, a little over 9000USD will buy 3 classrooms, a 25 meter well, and toilets with a septic tank. The principle difference between this trip and the one last year in Kenya was the amount of need in the area. None of these facilities were previously available to the 80 children in Dalsinghe. They would meet every day under a tree for school.
Finding ways to help build the school was difficult at first. The first question that Lisa, the other chaperon, had to answer was "how do you paint a classroom when there is no paint?" This was a major detail that was lost in translation during the preparation. It wasn't until the 3rd day of work that the paint arrived and the kids were happy to see it. We had been digging trenches and hauling bricks in the sweltering heat the entire time. Please make sure that your mental picture of our trip so far includes sweaty pink faces and the entire village coming out to watch us work.
Our routine in the village was as follows. We woke each day with the sun, or the roosters, whichever came first, ate breakfast, painted, played with/tickled/chased/tossed/caught children, lunch, and more of the same in the afternoon. The day's transition into evening is the best time to sit back and reflect. The homes in the hills become dots of lights and the darkness is intermixed with fireflies... everywhere. It was a magical backdrop and we always made time to stare for a while before heading back to our families and "beds." The only bad part of days like these is that, like all good things, they have to end... damn Einstein and his relativity of time.
This is not to say that everything was easy for us. The list of injuries and ailments is a long one. We had a total of 4 trips to the hospital, sporadic, yet rampant diarrhea (guess who got that one), bed bugs, two stomach infections that necessitated a plain rice only diet and anti-amoebic drugs, and a flesh eating virus that took the top layer of skin off of one girl's fingers... ouch. But we could never truly appreciate the good without a healthy dose of the bad. The kids on the trip just shrugged it all off as part of the experience... they amaze me. These kids are the future leaders of the world. Their compassion and selflessness fills me with optimism about our longevity as a species. I am happy to play a small part in their lives.
Flash forward to a new picture. Its our closing ceremony and I'm dancing, or at least attempting to dance, to the tune of a drum. The rest of the village is laughing and watching my gangly limbs fly out in every direction as I try to mimic the moves of my smaller and more graceful Nepalese friends. My parting gift from the village is a traditional hat that the men in the village wear. Its a lot like the one that Aladin wears in the movies... unfortunately it is not appropriately sized for my large American brain and feels more like a dunce cap sitting on top of my head. We were all given Hindu third eyes in chalk as part of the celebration. This was all planned... then comes a slap to the side of my face. A cute little boy in the village has grabbed a handful of the chalk for our Hindu dots and covered my face in red. He loves me and he knows that he can get away with anything... the cute ones always seem to know that. After few minutes of escalation and retaliation, the whole village, from the children to the grandmothers, are covered in red chalk. Now we're all laughing and dancing in the rain together.
Its amazing how quickly laughter can turn into tears. Young children never understand the reality of saying goodbye until its time to walk away. One little girl from the village started to cry as we prepared to walk down the road, then another, then another. Now we're all crying because maybe we didn't understand the reality of our departure either. Walking away from Dalsinghe was one of the toughest things that I have ever done.
But the trip was not over... so we did our best to keep it all in perspective and drove into the jungles in the south. We spent three days living in little bungalows listening to the melodies of the birds and insects, and riding and swimming with elephants. I can't think of a better way to finish a trip like this one. We spent our last hours together on the dirty carpet of the Hong Kong airport. We laughed and made up songs about the trip and eachother. We delayed our goodbyes as long as we could, but all good things must come to an end. Every person has said that this was the best, and the most fulfilling three weeks of their lives... I agree.
"Mike...Mike," these words are among the loud noises coming from the "cool kids" in the back of the bus. My seat, as usual, is in the very front. You may recall from your days in high school that this row is specifically reserved for dorks and teachers... its a perfect fit for me. I've made a policy of never answering the first time someone calls my name, so I give it a second to see if this kid, whose name is Katie in this instance, can find their own answer to whatever question they may have... "Mike... Mike!!!" Apparently she cannot. I turn my head back and make I eye contact. This wordless response is my way of letting her know that I am listening, but also that I know where this conversation is headed. "Will it rain in the village?" Its the monsoon season here in Nepal and rains every day so I know that she is joking. All good jokes, however, start with a grain of truth. When we first got here, I made the mistake of pointing out that many questions in this seemingly endless chorus could be answered before they get to me... But they love to tease me so the number of silly questions has reached astronomical proportions. I always play along, first because its funny and I make a good straight man, and second because its the easiest way to keep 14 high school students that haven't showered in a week happy. These sorts of interactions were the norm for us. We laughed a lot... it was usually at my expense.
It took us just over 36 hours of planes and layovers to reach Kathmandu. A combination of sleep deprivation and the fact that it is not possible to get much farther from home made the culture shock run rampant. My first impressions when we stepped out of the airport are that its hotter, darker and muggier than I remember. The ongoing sanitation strike in Kathmandu means more smells and piles of garbage than usual in the narrow streets. My feelings of apprehension blended nicely with the humidity in the air. There are sixteen people on this trip, one teacher, fourteen students from California, and me. I am the only one that has been here before and I can't help but wonder what they are thinking if these are my impressions. Thankfully, it was not a very long bus ride, and all those negative feelings were washed off of us as we entered the air conditioned lobby of the nicest hotel in Kathmandu... We are going to be OK.
If I were to provide a theme to our experiences in Nepal, it would have to be the amazing contrast that we felt as we went from one place to the next. There is no better example of this than sitting in the serenity of the courtyard in our hotel (the former Royal Palace) and listening to the muffled sounds of horns and traffic on the other side of the wall. We spent our first few days between these two extremes, venturing out into the chaotic city and enjoying the swimming pool at the hotel. The former is where the real adventure of travel lies, but it was nice to be able to leave one for the other.
It was during this time that I had my first "I'm back in Nepal" moment. We had stopped along the side of the road for no reason whatsoever, at least as far as I could tell. These sorts of things happen all the time. They could drive a person crazy if they don't go with the flow, so I found myself a seat in the mud and took in the scene. On the highway in front of me were taxis, cows, elaborately decorated semis, motorcycles, bicycles and a man herding goats... somehow no one ever gets hit (at least not as much as you would think). The pollution and sediment in the air can make your throat raw and all the buildings that I could see were covered in advertisements. Meanwhile, the bus drivers use their horns constantly. They provide the urban soundtrack here and come in all sorts of pitches and funny little jingles. On the horizon, though, is a glimpse of the other side of this country. I could see green hills stratified with rice farms. Many people would say that this scene in the distance is where "the real Nepal" is, but there is a lot to experience on the side of the road too if you just sit there and take it all in for a minute. Our next destination, however, was straight into those hills.
We left our amenities behind on day four and set out for the village of Dalsinghe (Dall-sing-gee). Our new setting was beautiful, the hills were scattered with houses and there are no roads. Its the kind of place that fills your stomach with butterflies and "there is a god" thoughts from the moment you step off of the bus. We split the kids into pairs and sent them off in various directions to meet their home stay families and explore the area. Our new accommodations were a far cry from Kathmandu. The "beds" were literally wooden planks with a thin blanket for a mattress, and there was no running water. Many of the homes kept their goats and bulls on the ground floor, so there was an omnipresent scent that is hard to describe. There was very little, if any, English spoken in the village which made for a few awkward afternoon teas... I just tried to smile a lot and play with the children as much as possible.
Perhaps the most pleasant surprise, though, was to see the school that our fundraising efforts helped build. In Nepal, a little over 9000USD will buy 3 classrooms, a 25 meter well, and toilets with a septic tank. The principle difference between this trip and the one last year in Kenya was the amount of need in the area. None of these facilities were previously available to the 80 children in Dalsinghe. They would meet every day under a tree for school.
Finding ways to help build the school was difficult at first. The first question that Lisa, the other chaperon, had to answer was "how do you paint a classroom when there is no paint?" This was a major detail that was lost in translation during the preparation. It wasn't until the 3rd day of work that the paint arrived and the kids were happy to see it. We had been digging trenches and hauling bricks in the sweltering heat the entire time. Please make sure that your mental picture of our trip so far includes sweaty pink faces and the entire village coming out to watch us work.
Our routine in the village was as follows. We woke each day with the sun, or the roosters, whichever came first, ate breakfast, painted, played with/tickled/chased/tossed/caught children, lunch, and more of the same in the afternoon. The day's transition into evening is the best time to sit back and reflect. The homes in the hills become dots of lights and the darkness is intermixed with fireflies... everywhere. It was a magical backdrop and we always made time to stare for a while before heading back to our families and "beds." The only bad part of days like these is that, like all good things, they have to end... damn Einstein and his relativity of time.
This is not to say that everything was easy for us. The list of injuries and ailments is a long one. We had a total of 4 trips to the hospital, sporadic, yet rampant diarrhea (guess who got that one), bed bugs, two stomach infections that necessitated a plain rice only diet and anti-amoebic drugs, and a flesh eating virus that took the top layer of skin off of one girl's fingers... ouch. But we could never truly appreciate the good without a healthy dose of the bad. The kids on the trip just shrugged it all off as part of the experience... they amaze me. These kids are the future leaders of the world. Their compassion and selflessness fills me with optimism about our longevity as a species. I am happy to play a small part in their lives.
Flash forward to a new picture. Its our closing ceremony and I'm dancing, or at least attempting to dance, to the tune of a drum. The rest of the village is laughing and watching my gangly limbs fly out in every direction as I try to mimic the moves of my smaller and more graceful Nepalese friends. My parting gift from the village is a traditional hat that the men in the village wear. Its a lot like the one that Aladin wears in the movies... unfortunately it is not appropriately sized for my large American brain and feels more like a dunce cap sitting on top of my head. We were all given Hindu third eyes in chalk as part of the celebration. This was all planned... then comes a slap to the side of my face. A cute little boy in the village has grabbed a handful of the chalk for our Hindu dots and covered my face in red. He loves me and he knows that he can get away with anything... the cute ones always seem to know that. After few minutes of escalation and retaliation, the whole village, from the children to the grandmothers, are covered in red chalk. Now we're all laughing and dancing in the rain together.
Its amazing how quickly laughter can turn into tears. Young children never understand the reality of saying goodbye until its time to walk away. One little girl from the village started to cry as we prepared to walk down the road, then another, then another. Now we're all crying because maybe we didn't understand the reality of our departure either. Walking away from Dalsinghe was one of the toughest things that I have ever done.
But the trip was not over... so we did our best to keep it all in perspective and drove into the jungles in the south. We spent three days living in little bungalows listening to the melodies of the birds and insects, and riding and swimming with elephants. I can't think of a better way to finish a trip like this one. We spent our last hours together on the dirty carpet of the Hong Kong airport. We laughed and made up songs about the trip and eachother. We delayed our goodbyes as long as we could, but all good things must come to an end. Every person has said that this was the best, and the most fulfilling three weeks of their lives... I agree.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
A New Mission Statement and Another Adventure
Its one of those days. I thought I was all packed, but I should have known better. There is always a glasses case to find or a hat that inexplicably goes missing. The last few hours have consisted entirely of looking for everything and finding nothing. So I think a self imposed writing session will calm things down.
It seems like I was just back here in Minnesota, unpacking these zipoff pants and seriously considering burning both those shirts that I wore for 7 months. Now I'm happy that I didn't because they're going right back into the same old pack. They still smell... I keep telling myself that its all in my head but that's not the whole truth. Stinky memories could plausibly account for a fraction of that smell, but the aroma of India is seldom removable. Yep, I'm heading out again.
There are a few key differences in the preparation this time around. I've learned that all the anxiety I endured before the first big trip was pointless (although I'm sure that thought crossed my mind at the time), and that it doesn't really matter if I don't find those tweezers (I'm still looking, though). All of those worries that keep us up at night usually work themselves out on their own. So at the risk of coming off like one of those pretentious people that offer unsolicited life lessons, I ask you why do we still dwell on all these insignificant complaints? I'd be a rich man if I new.
I don't mean for this to be another long diatribe, though. Continuing to pointlessly write about my day to day life here in the states will cause me to lose what little audience I have before there is anything to report. Here is a short overview of the next 4ish months...
Do you remember the group of kids from California that met in Kenya and wrote about last July? Ok I knew that was a stretch. Here's their abbreviated story. They have started their own non-profit, One Dollar For Life, through the help of two teachers. Their mission is to start local chapters and raise funds in high schools throughout the country. If a student donates $1, they can truly have an affect on the quality of life for someone in the developing world (http://www.odfl.org/ if you are interested). Through their efforts, they raised enough money to build 5 classrooms in 5 five developing countries this Summer. Some of the kids feel so strongly about what they have done that they have chosen to forego their comfy beds for 3 weeks in order to travel to Nepal and help build one of these schools... They amaze me, and I am happy to be along for the ride.
Here's the kicker. My plane ticket was booked through a travel agency and has a layover in Hong Kong, China on the way back. I thought I was being facitious when I asked, "can I make my layover any longer?" Turns out that I can and I'll be in the area until early October... unbelievable.
The plan gets a little hazy from there. I'll have a traveling partner in my friend Jake for a month, but our plan is to have no plan. We've gotten travel visas for China and are working on ones for Vietnam. These always involve every type of bureaucratic BS that you can imagine. I'll spare you the rest of the details, but we checked and double checked the format on our TPS reports and they're still not quite right quite right. Then there is talk of living and working in Hawaii through August. We'll see.
So there you have it. A first chapter that I wasn't intending to write. Please keep in touch. I will too.
It seems like I was just back here in Minnesota, unpacking these zipoff pants and seriously considering burning both those shirts that I wore for 7 months. Now I'm happy that I didn't because they're going right back into the same old pack. They still smell... I keep telling myself that its all in my head but that's not the whole truth. Stinky memories could plausibly account for a fraction of that smell, but the aroma of India is seldom removable. Yep, I'm heading out again.
There are a few key differences in the preparation this time around. I've learned that all the anxiety I endured before the first big trip was pointless (although I'm sure that thought crossed my mind at the time), and that it doesn't really matter if I don't find those tweezers (I'm still looking, though). All of those worries that keep us up at night usually work themselves out on their own. So at the risk of coming off like one of those pretentious people that offer unsolicited life lessons, I ask you why do we still dwell on all these insignificant complaints? I'd be a rich man if I new.
I don't mean for this to be another long diatribe, though. Continuing to pointlessly write about my day to day life here in the states will cause me to lose what little audience I have before there is anything to report. Here is a short overview of the next 4ish months...
Do you remember the group of kids from California that met in Kenya and wrote about last July? Ok I knew that was a stretch. Here's their abbreviated story. They have started their own non-profit, One Dollar For Life, through the help of two teachers. Their mission is to start local chapters and raise funds in high schools throughout the country. If a student donates $1, they can truly have an affect on the quality of life for someone in the developing world (http://www.odfl.org/ if you are interested). Through their efforts, they raised enough money to build 5 classrooms in 5 five developing countries this Summer. Some of the kids feel so strongly about what they have done that they have chosen to forego their comfy beds for 3 weeks in order to travel to Nepal and help build one of these schools... They amaze me, and I am happy to be along for the ride.
Here's the kicker. My plane ticket was booked through a travel agency and has a layover in Hong Kong, China on the way back. I thought I was being facitious when I asked, "can I make my layover any longer?" Turns out that I can and I'll be in the area until early October... unbelievable.
The plan gets a little hazy from there. I'll have a traveling partner in my friend Jake for a month, but our plan is to have no plan. We've gotten travel visas for China and are working on ones for Vietnam. These always involve every type of bureaucratic BS that you can imagine. I'll spare you the rest of the details, but we checked and double checked the format on our TPS reports and they're still not quite right quite right. Then there is talk of living and working in Hawaii through August. We'll see.
So there you have it. A first chapter that I wasn't intending to write. Please keep in touch. I will too.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Rainbows and Unicorns
I'm suffering from writers block... How can you keep people interested in your story if there are no uncomfortable conditions or hidden twists? And here I thought I had a chance at being a good writer. Anyone can tell a story if the events alone can hold the audience's attention. It's relaying the info when things are good that separates a writer from a hack. I fear that I may fall into the latter category, but I'll give it a go just in case.
In short, things are good. But before I explain what I've been up to, I should elaborate on my motives behind this 7-month journey. For the benefit of those who may not know, I've always wanted to go to Nepal. And specifically, to see Mt. Everest. So much that I planned this entire journey with this trekking section as the focal point. Basically, no one but my parents would have known that. So yes, there was an underlying method to my apparent madness described through the ordeals of the previous entries. Knowing that trekking in the Himalayas was in my future has been my lifeline more than once. I am the ass and it is my carrot dangled in from of me as I stumble through India and Africa.
The time had finally come and it has been a surreal experience. My expectations were met as soon as I got on the bus for the "8 hour ride." I used the quotations because that was supposed to be the time it took to get us to Jiri (the starting point of the trek). 2 flat tires tend to add on a little, though. More like 12 hours. But nothing could have gotten us down. Do you want to know why? We rode on the roof the entire time. The road wound through the foothills up and over the passes. We made ourselves seats in the luggage and stared at the vista of mountains on the horizon. This was probably my first actual sight of Everest but I'm not counting it because I couldn't pick it out of the lineup.
So the bus was an unexpected bonus to an already incredible trip. I think I will spare my audience the details of our day-to-day activities during the walking part and lump them in together as best I can.
The trip took 21 days. We walked an average of 7-9 hours in total per day. My only criticism was that someone should give a little lecture to the Nepali culture. They are firm believers making straight lines from point A to point B. The first 7 days were spent climbing straight up a peak, then straight back down to a river. It had me dreaming of all those nice flat lake walks around the Twin Cities. And I mean straight up... no switchbacks or anything. We were given a thorough butt kicking for a while and I reached previously unheard-of amounts of sweat excretion on a daily basis.
Which leads me to another major point. How much food do you think you have to eat to avoid losing weight on a trip like this one? I'm afraid that was a genuine question because we haven't found the answer yet. Here is an example of our daily ingestion:
Breakfast- 2 egg omelet, large pancake with jam, coffee.
2nd breakfast- about 300 grams of cheese with a box of crackers.
Brunch- trail mix
Lunch- Dal Baht. This is the national dish of Nepal and deserves an explanation. It's a heaping plate of white rice, a vegetable curry, and a lentil sauce all mixed together. They keep refilling your plate until you cry or pass out (or both)... it's ok, but I miss Indian food.
Mid-afternoon Snack- usually more crackers and a snicker bar.
Dinner- At least 2 entrees and an appetizer. And don't forget the apple pie.
That was our best effort and it did no good at all... We are skinny. So much that I'm afraid of getting yelled at when I return home in a month. Sorry Dad, I tried. Please tell Jackie that we will have to double our chocolate milkshake efforts over xmas.
The trip itself was essentially two stages:
Jiri to Namche Bazaar (8 days)- Up and down and up and down until you can't take it any more. Almost no one does this part. They prefer to skip it and I understand why. More for us, though, and we enjoyed being the only tourists on the trail
.
Namche to Everest Base camp and back (13 days)- Entirely above tree line. 3500 meters to start, then up to 5500 meters in elevation at the highest point... I don't know how to describe the beauty of those mountains except to say that there is no way to capture it in a picture (we tried a lot, though). It's the kind of beauty that can suddenly make you want to cry and you don't know why.
I got my first real glimpse of Mt Everest watching the sunrise on October 17th. How do I remember the date? Because it marked exactly 5 months of travel to get there. How cool is that? Do you want to know what I felt when I saw it? ....Eh. It's not actually what you would expect. The others in front of it stole the show. But I did make this realization... It is true when you hear that the journey is more important than the destination. For me, it turned out to be more about getting to Everest than being there. It took me exactly 5 months to get there and seeing it made me realize just how great everything else has been along the way. Sorry about the use of an old cliche, but it was the best I could think of.
We gave ourselves 6 days of rest/internet splurging before starting another trek. Here are my questions I can't answer about all the world events we missed... When did the Rockies become good? There are fires in California? Is Hillary really going to be president? Brett Favre isn't dead? ... Really?!
So we were left with many questions on our mind, but no time to dwell on them. It was onto the 7 day Annapurna Trek, or victory lap, as we like to call it.
We treated this trip a little differently than the previous one. It was time for a new set of goals because we had already earned our merit badges for physical accomplishment. So here they are... Apple pie every night (no exceptions), 1kg of chocolate to be eaten freely, and as many fake stories and patronizing smiles to be handed out to other trekkers. Our last fake story was that I'm an aspiring Astronaut and Lindsay is a cowgirl. I saw her lasso-ing a herd from my rocket ship and we ran away together. It's more interesting than repeating the same old story about two kids from Colorado. The patronizing smile part goes a little like this... Head cocked, no teeth showing, hands on hips, preferably when you are descending a hill they are climbing. It takes some practice, but the end product is well worth it.
You may not understand our reasoning for all of this, but how else can you keep laughing if you spend everyday with the same person? We've kept it up somehow, but the material is getting a little thin. We both agree that there may be a public wrestling match of sibling sized proportions in our futures. Our conversations have recently dwindled down to arguments over whether the word "poop" is an onomonopia (you know... pooooooo...p. You can tell which side I'm on. Feel free to weigh in), or reenacting old SNL skits. The latest laugh is from the superfans (da Bears!). "Hold on! Hold on! The name of the hurricane... is Hurricane Ditka!" I'm sorry if that isn't funny for you, but it's enough to make me smile just writing it down.
28 out of the last 34 days have been spent walking and I have a great deal of respect for Lindsay (mostly newfound). Not just for putting up with me, but for the amount of pain she's been through. She started experiencing knee pain on the 2nd day of the Everest Trek and it hasn't gone away since. Anyone who can relate to that pain will tell you that the last thing you want to do with a bad knee is climb and descend mountains everyday. But she never complained. She is the toughest person that I have ever met and deserves all the credit in the world... I gave her the spirit award for the trip. You know, the one they always give the fat kid at track and field day?
This has been a hard update to write. I tried once 2 weeks ago and couldn't finish. I think it was because I hadn't gotten the closure that I was looking for. I found it on the roof of the bus riding back after our 2nd trek. It was going out the way we came in and it felt like I had finished something important. Except this time we got caught in the rain. But hey, it makes for a fitting end right?
So now it's on to bigger and better things. Maybe some White Water Rafting, or bungee jumping. We'll have to see. All I know for certain is that there is another long train trip in my future too because my flight is out of Mumbai on December 4th (that's 55 hours of trains away right now). So stay tuned because things are going to get interesting.
In short, things are good. But before I explain what I've been up to, I should elaborate on my motives behind this 7-month journey. For the benefit of those who may not know, I've always wanted to go to Nepal. And specifically, to see Mt. Everest. So much that I planned this entire journey with this trekking section as the focal point. Basically, no one but my parents would have known that. So yes, there was an underlying method to my apparent madness described through the ordeals of the previous entries. Knowing that trekking in the Himalayas was in my future has been my lifeline more than once. I am the ass and it is my carrot dangled in from of me as I stumble through India and Africa.
The time had finally come and it has been a surreal experience. My expectations were met as soon as I got on the bus for the "8 hour ride." I used the quotations because that was supposed to be the time it took to get us to Jiri (the starting point of the trek). 2 flat tires tend to add on a little, though. More like 12 hours. But nothing could have gotten us down. Do you want to know why? We rode on the roof the entire time. The road wound through the foothills up and over the passes. We made ourselves seats in the luggage and stared at the vista of mountains on the horizon. This was probably my first actual sight of Everest but I'm not counting it because I couldn't pick it out of the lineup.
So the bus was an unexpected bonus to an already incredible trip. I think I will spare my audience the details of our day-to-day activities during the walking part and lump them in together as best I can.
The trip took 21 days. We walked an average of 7-9 hours in total per day. My only criticism was that someone should give a little lecture to the Nepali culture. They are firm believers making straight lines from point A to point B. The first 7 days were spent climbing straight up a peak, then straight back down to a river. It had me dreaming of all those nice flat lake walks around the Twin Cities. And I mean straight up... no switchbacks or anything. We were given a thorough butt kicking for a while and I reached previously unheard-of amounts of sweat excretion on a daily basis.
Which leads me to another major point. How much food do you think you have to eat to avoid losing weight on a trip like this one? I'm afraid that was a genuine question because we haven't found the answer yet. Here is an example of our daily ingestion:
Breakfast- 2 egg omelet, large pancake with jam, coffee.
2nd breakfast- about 300 grams of cheese with a box of crackers.
Brunch- trail mix
Lunch- Dal Baht. This is the national dish of Nepal and deserves an explanation. It's a heaping plate of white rice, a vegetable curry, and a lentil sauce all mixed together. They keep refilling your plate until you cry or pass out (or both)... it's ok, but I miss Indian food.
Mid-afternoon Snack- usually more crackers and a snicker bar.
Dinner- At least 2 entrees and an appetizer. And don't forget the apple pie.
That was our best effort and it did no good at all... We are skinny. So much that I'm afraid of getting yelled at when I return home in a month. Sorry Dad, I tried. Please tell Jackie that we will have to double our chocolate milkshake efforts over xmas.
The trip itself was essentially two stages:
Jiri to Namche Bazaar (8 days)- Up and down and up and down until you can't take it any more. Almost no one does this part. They prefer to skip it and I understand why. More for us, though, and we enjoyed being the only tourists on the trail
.
Namche to Everest Base camp and back (13 days)- Entirely above tree line. 3500 meters to start, then up to 5500 meters in elevation at the highest point... I don't know how to describe the beauty of those mountains except to say that there is no way to capture it in a picture (we tried a lot, though). It's the kind of beauty that can suddenly make you want to cry and you don't know why.
I got my first real glimpse of Mt Everest watching the sunrise on October 17th. How do I remember the date? Because it marked exactly 5 months of travel to get there. How cool is that? Do you want to know what I felt when I saw it? ....Eh. It's not actually what you would expect. The others in front of it stole the show. But I did make this realization... It is true when you hear that the journey is more important than the destination. For me, it turned out to be more about getting to Everest than being there. It took me exactly 5 months to get there and seeing it made me realize just how great everything else has been along the way. Sorry about the use of an old cliche, but it was the best I could think of.
We gave ourselves 6 days of rest/internet splurging before starting another trek. Here are my questions I can't answer about all the world events we missed... When did the Rockies become good? There are fires in California? Is Hillary really going to be president? Brett Favre isn't dead? ... Really?!
So we were left with many questions on our mind, but no time to dwell on them. It was onto the 7 day Annapurna Trek, or victory lap, as we like to call it.
We treated this trip a little differently than the previous one. It was time for a new set of goals because we had already earned our merit badges for physical accomplishment. So here they are... Apple pie every night (no exceptions), 1kg of chocolate to be eaten freely, and as many fake stories and patronizing smiles to be handed out to other trekkers. Our last fake story was that I'm an aspiring Astronaut and Lindsay is a cowgirl. I saw her lasso-ing a herd from my rocket ship and we ran away together. It's more interesting than repeating the same old story about two kids from Colorado. The patronizing smile part goes a little like this... Head cocked, no teeth showing, hands on hips, preferably when you are descending a hill they are climbing. It takes some practice, but the end product is well worth it.
You may not understand our reasoning for all of this, but how else can you keep laughing if you spend everyday with the same person? We've kept it up somehow, but the material is getting a little thin. We both agree that there may be a public wrestling match of sibling sized proportions in our futures. Our conversations have recently dwindled down to arguments over whether the word "poop" is an onomonopia (you know... pooooooo...p. You can tell which side I'm on. Feel free to weigh in), or reenacting old SNL skits. The latest laugh is from the superfans (da Bears!). "Hold on! Hold on! The name of the hurricane... is Hurricane Ditka!" I'm sorry if that isn't funny for you, but it's enough to make me smile just writing it down.
28 out of the last 34 days have been spent walking and I have a great deal of respect for Lindsay (mostly newfound). Not just for putting up with me, but for the amount of pain she's been through. She started experiencing knee pain on the 2nd day of the Everest Trek and it hasn't gone away since. Anyone who can relate to that pain will tell you that the last thing you want to do with a bad knee is climb and descend mountains everyday. But she never complained. She is the toughest person that I have ever met and deserves all the credit in the world... I gave her the spirit award for the trip. You know, the one they always give the fat kid at track and field day?
This has been a hard update to write. I tried once 2 weeks ago and couldn't finish. I think it was because I hadn't gotten the closure that I was looking for. I found it on the roof of the bus riding back after our 2nd trek. It was going out the way we came in and it felt like I had finished something important. Except this time we got caught in the rain. But hey, it makes for a fitting end right?
So now it's on to bigger and better things. Maybe some White Water Rafting, or bungee jumping. We'll have to see. All I know for certain is that there is another long train trip in my future too because my flight is out of Mumbai on December 4th (that's 55 hours of trains away right now). So stay tuned because things are going to get interesting.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
A Lifetime in a Week
I think I was still in the North of India when I last wrote. The prospect of pushing "back" and checking from the previous post gives me the shivers. Waiting for these dial up connections have put years on my life. Or maybe it's just been the events of the last week.
So lets do a quick recap of Leh, or paradise as I like to call it. It's a small Buddhist village where we stayed in a guesthouse filled with beautiful gardens. Every male is a gentle old man that greets you with genuine kindness when you walk past. It sounds a little like this. "JOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!! Jule jule jule jule." In reality, they are saying "jule," which means hello/goodbye/please/thank you in Tibetan. I loved that place. We rode camels to the border of Tibet and drove the group crazy by singing the entire score from "Aladin" (again). Yes, we are American. I've come to terms with that. The prospect of leaving a place like Leh for a place like Delhi makes you wonder what you have done wrong. Maybe it's from a past life. That's what a Buddhist might say.
Delhi was Delhi all over again, but at least we knew what to expect this time. I want to add two more articles to my list of things on/in the streets. A man with elephantitis of his "you know what," and human excrement. Yes human... and I am winning the race for how many times we can step in it in our sandals. Or losing. Let's just say I've done it more than once.
But I've described Delhi before so let's get to the point. Our plan was to find a flight to Kathmandu and get out as fast as possible. That should be easy right? WRONG! Here's a little known fact. There is not one seat available on ANY flight to Kathmandu from ANYWHERE in India until mid-October... I didn't see that coming. After an hour or two of fretting, we concocted a plan to make a trip out of it. Here is a small overview of the immediate future for us from that point. Train to Agra (Taj Mahal), overnight train to Varanasi (Ganges River), overnight train to Gorukphur (shithole), bus to border, bus to Chitwan Nat'l Park in Nepal. Four full days of travel in all and some experiences that have put greyhairs on my head.
So this is my opinion of Agra. "Rickshaw! Rickshaw! Postcard! Postcard! Where are you going? Where are you going?" This was the chorus that followed us through the streets. We drew a lot of attention and only deserved a small fraction of it. But what can you expect? We were in the most "touristy" place in India. To not see it coming would be like visiting Mt Rushmore and acting surprised to see cheesy T-shirts and small plasitc sculptures for sale. That being said, however, the Taj Mahal was worth checking out. Every piece of marble is perfectly handcarved and placed. It suited my OCD mind too because the structure is perfectly symetrical down to the millimeter. We whiled away most of the day taking extra goofy pics and causing some general distress among the middle aged and older demographic of tourists that surrounded us.
We thought we could save some stress by adding a layover night to our journey and sleeping in a bed in Agra. It didn't exactly work out that way. The plumbing in our hotel went awry somehow that evening while we slept. We were greeted with an unpleasant sight from the hallway in the morning and it was the smell that actually woke us. Bad omen? Maybe.
Let's just skip the events of the rest of our 2nd day in Agra for this post... I wouldn't mind having those hours of my life back.
So we got out of town in search of the next big adventure. I should point out the obvious here and say that trains are not the easiest place to sleep. They stop every hour or so and men walk up and down the hallway yelling "chai!!!" I would like to insert a sidenote here that I love my mother. She gave me a small stash of sleeping pills a long time ago and I found my emergency to use them. She is the reason why I made it through.
Varanasi takes an extreme amount of patience to enjoy. This city is overflowing with people and the Ganges river is not much of a sight, although it does have record amounts of fecal matter. But, it is the place of origin for the Hindu religion and people travel from everywhere to bathe in the Ganges. We spent the day fighting off cute little girls trying to sell us Karma candles and taking in all the vibrant colors. I hope I never have daughters because they will walk all over me. They can sense my weakness because they know I think their cute.
The torrential rains started shortly after dark and we were forced to head to the Varanasi train station a few hours early. We had heard that it was busy, but I think I can safely say that is the biggest understatement I have ever heard. There are literally piles of people. Train stations are a good place for people watching. It was mostly just people watching us, though. Here is a list of things we observed during our brief visit: thousands of Indian people, 4 white tourists (including us), and a dirty begging child that grabbed us in the dark when the power went out. We found a place to sit and played cards. Not because we wanted to, but because we had to. We ignored the stares and our play was only interupted twice. Once by an old man wearing a green plastic bag for a hat. He stopped, walked up to us, put his hand on his knees and his face about 12 inches from our. His stare was like he was looking at fish in a tank. It's hard to prepare for that sort of interaction. Here is our dialogue:
Lindsay: Mike, what do I do?
Mike: I guess just ignore him.
L: How?!!
M: Well, let's try to think of the reasons why we shouldn't kill ourselves.
(pause)
M: Ok, I have one. We have some gum to chew. That's it, though.
He did leave eventually and we have a new inside joke to laugh about. The second interuption was one that makes you think a little. There was a cow making the rounds through the station. Who owned him? Which train was he riding? Which bunk would he be on? How can he avoid stepping on people here when I can't? Here's the tricky part, though. He was on the middle platform. That means he would have had to go up and down a flight of stairs and a walkway to get to where we saw him. Hmmmmmm. Another thought nugget to occupy my time.
Let's speed up the pace here. Our train did come (one hour late), Gorukphur IS a terrible town and there is no reason to go there, the bus to the border of Nepal was 6 hours and not the 2 we thought it was, we endured four hours at the border waiting for our crowded bus to leave, and yes, we DID get a flat tire 1km out of town. It rained the entire time too. But we made it to Chitwan National Park. All we wanted was a shower and a good night sleep. There is no way to describe how dirty we were, so I won't. We didn't get it. There was no water pressure and I slept in a bed with blood stains.
I'm sorry for being so graphic but I'm trying to paint a picture here. Things needed to start getting better soon... They did. We switched hotels and the sun came back out (in my soul and outside). Then we spent 3 days in a village in South Nepal. We took canoe safaris and jungle walks. We rode elephants in search of rhinos and tigers, then we swam with them and they sprayed me with water from their trunks. I had just enough time to visit the elephant breeding center and feed the babies cookies before catching a bus to Kathmandu (where I am now).
Together, we feel like we have been tested. We passed, but barely. I feel like I've lost a little innocense along the way. But the upside is that we are weathered and these Nepali touts and scam artists here in Kathmandu seem soft to me. They don't know what we've been through to get here. The end product is that I have this feeling like everything is going to be alright now.
We leave tomorrow to trek to the base of Mt Everest for the next 22-30 days. We've earned it. Hopefully the next post will be all gum drops and lolly pops. Boring for you, but sweet relief for me. Wish us luck and I'll be in touch.
So lets do a quick recap of Leh, or paradise as I like to call it. It's a small Buddhist village where we stayed in a guesthouse filled with beautiful gardens. Every male is a gentle old man that greets you with genuine kindness when you walk past. It sounds a little like this. "JOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!! Jule jule jule jule." In reality, they are saying "jule," which means hello/goodbye/please/thank you in Tibetan. I loved that place. We rode camels to the border of Tibet and drove the group crazy by singing the entire score from "Aladin" (again). Yes, we are American. I've come to terms with that. The prospect of leaving a place like Leh for a place like Delhi makes you wonder what you have done wrong. Maybe it's from a past life. That's what a Buddhist might say.
Delhi was Delhi all over again, but at least we knew what to expect this time. I want to add two more articles to my list of things on/in the streets. A man with elephantitis of his "you know what," and human excrement. Yes human... and I am winning the race for how many times we can step in it in our sandals. Or losing. Let's just say I've done it more than once.
But I've described Delhi before so let's get to the point. Our plan was to find a flight to Kathmandu and get out as fast as possible. That should be easy right? WRONG! Here's a little known fact. There is not one seat available on ANY flight to Kathmandu from ANYWHERE in India until mid-October... I didn't see that coming. After an hour or two of fretting, we concocted a plan to make a trip out of it. Here is a small overview of the immediate future for us from that point. Train to Agra (Taj Mahal), overnight train to Varanasi (Ganges River), overnight train to Gorukphur (shithole), bus to border, bus to Chitwan Nat'l Park in Nepal. Four full days of travel in all and some experiences that have put greyhairs on my head.
So this is my opinion of Agra. "Rickshaw! Rickshaw! Postcard! Postcard! Where are you going? Where are you going?" This was the chorus that followed us through the streets. We drew a lot of attention and only deserved a small fraction of it. But what can you expect? We were in the most "touristy" place in India. To not see it coming would be like visiting Mt Rushmore and acting surprised to see cheesy T-shirts and small plasitc sculptures for sale. That being said, however, the Taj Mahal was worth checking out. Every piece of marble is perfectly handcarved and placed. It suited my OCD mind too because the structure is perfectly symetrical down to the millimeter. We whiled away most of the day taking extra goofy pics and causing some general distress among the middle aged and older demographic of tourists that surrounded us.
We thought we could save some stress by adding a layover night to our journey and sleeping in a bed in Agra. It didn't exactly work out that way. The plumbing in our hotel went awry somehow that evening while we slept. We were greeted with an unpleasant sight from the hallway in the morning and it was the smell that actually woke us. Bad omen? Maybe.
Let's just skip the events of the rest of our 2nd day in Agra for this post... I wouldn't mind having those hours of my life back.
So we got out of town in search of the next big adventure. I should point out the obvious here and say that trains are not the easiest place to sleep. They stop every hour or so and men walk up and down the hallway yelling "chai!!!" I would like to insert a sidenote here that I love my mother. She gave me a small stash of sleeping pills a long time ago and I found my emergency to use them. She is the reason why I made it through.
Varanasi takes an extreme amount of patience to enjoy. This city is overflowing with people and the Ganges river is not much of a sight, although it does have record amounts of fecal matter. But, it is the place of origin for the Hindu religion and people travel from everywhere to bathe in the Ganges. We spent the day fighting off cute little girls trying to sell us Karma candles and taking in all the vibrant colors. I hope I never have daughters because they will walk all over me. They can sense my weakness because they know I think their cute.
The torrential rains started shortly after dark and we were forced to head to the Varanasi train station a few hours early. We had heard that it was busy, but I think I can safely say that is the biggest understatement I have ever heard. There are literally piles of people. Train stations are a good place for people watching. It was mostly just people watching us, though. Here is a list of things we observed during our brief visit: thousands of Indian people, 4 white tourists (including us), and a dirty begging child that grabbed us in the dark when the power went out. We found a place to sit and played cards. Not because we wanted to, but because we had to. We ignored the stares and our play was only interupted twice. Once by an old man wearing a green plastic bag for a hat. He stopped, walked up to us, put his hand on his knees and his face about 12 inches from our. His stare was like he was looking at fish in a tank. It's hard to prepare for that sort of interaction. Here is our dialogue:
Lindsay: Mike, what do I do?
Mike: I guess just ignore him.
L: How?!!
M: Well, let's try to think of the reasons why we shouldn't kill ourselves.
(pause)
M: Ok, I have one. We have some gum to chew. That's it, though.
He did leave eventually and we have a new inside joke to laugh about. The second interuption was one that makes you think a little. There was a cow making the rounds through the station. Who owned him? Which train was he riding? Which bunk would he be on? How can he avoid stepping on people here when I can't? Here's the tricky part, though. He was on the middle platform. That means he would have had to go up and down a flight of stairs and a walkway to get to where we saw him. Hmmmmmm. Another thought nugget to occupy my time.
Let's speed up the pace here. Our train did come (one hour late), Gorukphur IS a terrible town and there is no reason to go there, the bus to the border of Nepal was 6 hours and not the 2 we thought it was, we endured four hours at the border waiting for our crowded bus to leave, and yes, we DID get a flat tire 1km out of town. It rained the entire time too. But we made it to Chitwan National Park. All we wanted was a shower and a good night sleep. There is no way to describe how dirty we were, so I won't. We didn't get it. There was no water pressure and I slept in a bed with blood stains.
I'm sorry for being so graphic but I'm trying to paint a picture here. Things needed to start getting better soon... They did. We switched hotels and the sun came back out (in my soul and outside). Then we spent 3 days in a village in South Nepal. We took canoe safaris and jungle walks. We rode elephants in search of rhinos and tigers, then we swam with them and they sprayed me with water from their trunks. I had just enough time to visit the elephant breeding center and feed the babies cookies before catching a bus to Kathmandu (where I am now).
Together, we feel like we have been tested. We passed, but barely. I feel like I've lost a little innocense along the way. But the upside is that we are weathered and these Nepali touts and scam artists here in Kathmandu seem soft to me. They don't know what we've been through to get here. The end product is that I have this feeling like everything is going to be alright now.
We leave tomorrow to trek to the base of Mt Everest for the next 22-30 days. We've earned it. Hopefully the next post will be all gum drops and lolly pops. Boring for you, but sweet relief for me. Wish us luck and I'll be in touch.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
What the Delhi-O?
I should have wrote this entry two weeks ago when the impressions were fresh and the size of this story was manageable. I'm in Northern India right now. The people here are almost entirely Buddhist and I am finally relaxed. I'll be heading toward the border of Tibet tomorrow. Or at least as close as I am allowed to go. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Lets travel back to the beginning of September when the adventure truly began. The story you are about to hear is entirely true. I suggest you go find some snacks and prepare before you continue any further.
Here are my first impressions upon leaving customs in Delhi... Everyone is Indian. Pretty insightful right? Well it may seem obvious, but it is an inevitable conclusion that everyone has to make when they arrive. And it's hot and humid. Let me elaborate on that... I was sweating profusely within 30 seconds of stepping outside. The initial adjustment to your surroundings are like taking a slap in the face, if your like me. You just try not to cry. Thank god we had an airport pickup. I don't know how I could have coped with the hoards of taxi drivers that are dying to scam you.
I should also mention that I have acquired a new traveling partner. Her name is Lindsay. She is yet another coworker from Wilderness Inquiry with enough adventurous spirit to join me. So we left together and caught a ride to a Tibetan Refugee Colony on the outskirts of town. Guess how much our hotel room cost? About $2 each!! And how much do you think our first lunch was? 15 cents! That's all I'm going to mention about the various prices we paid. Please be aware, however, that nothing gives me greater pleasure in life than a good deal. We spent the evening in jetlagged fits of sleep, lying in our own sweat on top of the sheets. Sounds nice huh? Just wait...
So we woke up the next morning and prepared ourselves for a day of exploration around Delhi. But, there is no way to prepare... Please allow me to paint a picture of what it is like riding into town. We took an autorickshaw. They look like a buggy, the engine starts like a lawn mower, and all you can do is close your eyes and pray for atonement when you find yourself in one. Now imagine 35W or your local interstate highway. Take away the lanes and the vehicles and replace them with these items from my running list: Rickshaws (passenger bycycles), auto-rickshaws, mini-taxis, wildly decorated buses, small children, beggers, boys selling coconuts, boys in wheelchairs, horse and carriages, donkeys, yaks, and elephants. This is a city of over 12 million and I am positively sure that there are no traffic laws. It is complete anarchy. If there is space in front of you, then you take it. Sometimes that means that you have to hit a couple people on the way.
Here's one good thing about Delhi for me. I feel completely anonymous walking the streets with Lindsay and I haven't made one baby cry yet. All stares are reserved for her and I am free to stare back all I want without being noticed. It's like I'm invisible. We estimate that she recieves a visual undressing or catcall every 2.5 seconds. India is not the country for a single white female.
So with freshly white knuckles, we arrived at Hanuman's Tomb. I'll spare you the history of it and give you a quick description. It is the temple from Disney's Aladin. We spent the afternoon trying to process what had we had already been through and wandered around taking pictures. I am still surprised when I see such an awesomely preserved relic and someone has the audacity to scratch "Rafy was here 2004" into the wall... Thank you Rafi, I will never forget you. I made the comment to Lindsay about how rude that was. She responded that maybe the family behind us thought I was rude for continuing to belt out the lyrics from "Arabian Nights" (Aladin's Theme Song)... Touche.
Our only real piece of business that day was finding out how we could buy train tickets to Agra to see the Taj Majal. I am sad to report that I was duped. It serves me right for thinking I was such a knowledgable traveler. Shortest version of the story is that we were convinced by a taxi driver that we should head to a travel agency instead of the train station to purchase our tickets. He recieved his commission and we were delivered into a tourist agent's lap. His was Shaquille btw, no joke. And I thought there could be only one person with a name as ridiculous as that. He told us that there were no tickets to Agra left for the next day (lie number one). Then that we couldn't catch a bus North because it would be too long and uncomfortable (lie number two). Before we knew it, we had bought plane tickets to Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir. What just happened? We're going to Kashmir? Isn't there a war there or something? Those were our retrospective thoughts at the time.
So we decided that was enough Delhi for one day and took a ride back to our nice little Tibetan Village. Only the driver dropped us on the wrong side of the highway. Remember my description of the roads? Well, now picture us in race stances on the wrong side waiting for our window to cross. We tensed and it was almost 5 minutes before we were able to run screaming across the road. I learned then that many Indian drivers will actually swerve towards you and not away. No theories about why yet... Over population? Please bear in mind that this is all happening in the first 24 hours. But, what's done is done and we started the next leg of our journey towards Kashmir.
I'm sitting here staring at the computer screen now. I have no idea how to describe what it's like to spend time in this particular part of the world. Kashmir is like a paradox. Our ride from the airport was delayed sitting in traffic so a military convoy could drive through. There are men with Oozies or Ak-47s on every corner. Surprisingly, they made me feel more comfortable because I didn't like the way everyone else looked at us. But in the midst of all the tension and squalor is the most beautiful place I have ever laid eyes on. I'm finally in the Himilayas. They are beautifully green here and there are virtually no other tourists. I couldn't decided if we were geniouses or fools. We spent the next two days living on a house boat. We rode boat taxis to water markets and relaxed watching golden sunsets on a crystal clear lake. It was a great way to get the Delhi out of your system.
So we decided that we weren't ready to leave just yet and booked ourselves into a 7 day trek. We camped next to raging blue creeks and saw only gypsys and shephards the entire time. Seeing gypsys? This was a major selling point on the trip for me and I have no idea why in retrospect. They have these giant dogs that look like wolves. I was attacked by one while day hiking to a glacier. I stabed at him with my trekking pole while the gypsy woman threw rocks. She seemed to think it was funny! He didn't get to bite me, though. Thank god too because I learned afterward that the closest rabies vacine is in Bankok. It was a reminder of just how far away from home I am. And also a little bit of foreshadowing.
Lindsay started to get sick that day. She was having pains all over and her throat closed shortly after dark. Her breaths were in gasps and I had no idea how to get this girl to Bankok. We were not consoled when our uneducated and sexist guide, Ashref, decided that she must be on her period and that everything would be ok. This was coming from a man that thought California was the capital of the USA and spent the week trying to convince me to give him 100 Euro so he could mail me maryjuana back home. Thanks, but no thanks Ashref. But we stuck out the night without much sleep and learned what the cause was in the morning. Our hired tent was made out of old ripped canvas and apparently also pretty moldy. Lindsay learned that she is allergic to mold and I learned how to handle Anaphelactic shock (sp?). We spent the rest of the trip sleeping under the stars and I get to call her the glass woman now. So even this story has a happy ending.
So those are the highlights of Kashmir. Except that we watched our pony fall through a rotten bridge into a river. He fell about 20 feet, but was ok. Our pony men (Zuhur, and Gwalom) loaded with up again with luggage as soon as they got him out of the river. Someone call PETA! Then I found god sitting on a cliff... but I lost him again in the hate and suffering that makes up so much of Srinagar. It's easy to find God when you're surrounded by the beauty of the world. The hard part is holding onto that feeling. Kashmir is a great example of the point and counterpoint for belief or disbelief in the supernatural.
9 days near the border of Pakistan and we were ready for a change. We took a 2 day bus straight into the himilayas (which was actually not that bad). At the end, we found ourselves only 450km away from where we started. That's an average of about 20km/hr. But the road was narrow with no guard rail and we felt the we were going fast enough. So now I'm in Leh, deep in the Himilayas. The culture is Buddhist and the feeling is relaxed. There is no place I'd rather be. It's a time for digestion and recooperation before returning to Delhi and then to Nepal. We've earned it.
Here are my first impressions upon leaving customs in Delhi... Everyone is Indian. Pretty insightful right? Well it may seem obvious, but it is an inevitable conclusion that everyone has to make when they arrive. And it's hot and humid. Let me elaborate on that... I was sweating profusely within 30 seconds of stepping outside. The initial adjustment to your surroundings are like taking a slap in the face, if your like me. You just try not to cry. Thank god we had an airport pickup. I don't know how I could have coped with the hoards of taxi drivers that are dying to scam you.
I should also mention that I have acquired a new traveling partner. Her name is Lindsay. She is yet another coworker from Wilderness Inquiry with enough adventurous spirit to join me. So we left together and caught a ride to a Tibetan Refugee Colony on the outskirts of town. Guess how much our hotel room cost? About $2 each!! And how much do you think our first lunch was? 15 cents! That's all I'm going to mention about the various prices we paid. Please be aware, however, that nothing gives me greater pleasure in life than a good deal. We spent the evening in jetlagged fits of sleep, lying in our own sweat on top of the sheets. Sounds nice huh? Just wait...
So we woke up the next morning and prepared ourselves for a day of exploration around Delhi. But, there is no way to prepare... Please allow me to paint a picture of what it is like riding into town. We took an autorickshaw. They look like a buggy, the engine starts like a lawn mower, and all you can do is close your eyes and pray for atonement when you find yourself in one. Now imagine 35W or your local interstate highway. Take away the lanes and the vehicles and replace them with these items from my running list: Rickshaws (passenger bycycles), auto-rickshaws, mini-taxis, wildly decorated buses, small children, beggers, boys selling coconuts, boys in wheelchairs, horse and carriages, donkeys, yaks, and elephants. This is a city of over 12 million and I am positively sure that there are no traffic laws. It is complete anarchy. If there is space in front of you, then you take it. Sometimes that means that you have to hit a couple people on the way.
Here's one good thing about Delhi for me. I feel completely anonymous walking the streets with Lindsay and I haven't made one baby cry yet. All stares are reserved for her and I am free to stare back all I want without being noticed. It's like I'm invisible. We estimate that she recieves a visual undressing or catcall every 2.5 seconds. India is not the country for a single white female.
So with freshly white knuckles, we arrived at Hanuman's Tomb. I'll spare you the history of it and give you a quick description. It is the temple from Disney's Aladin. We spent the afternoon trying to process what had we had already been through and wandered around taking pictures. I am still surprised when I see such an awesomely preserved relic and someone has the audacity to scratch "Rafy was here 2004" into the wall... Thank you Rafi, I will never forget you. I made the comment to Lindsay about how rude that was. She responded that maybe the family behind us thought I was rude for continuing to belt out the lyrics from "Arabian Nights" (Aladin's Theme Song)... Touche.
Our only real piece of business that day was finding out how we could buy train tickets to Agra to see the Taj Majal. I am sad to report that I was duped. It serves me right for thinking I was such a knowledgable traveler. Shortest version of the story is that we were convinced by a taxi driver that we should head to a travel agency instead of the train station to purchase our tickets. He recieved his commission and we were delivered into a tourist agent's lap. His was Shaquille btw, no joke. And I thought there could be only one person with a name as ridiculous as that. He told us that there were no tickets to Agra left for the next day (lie number one). Then that we couldn't catch a bus North because it would be too long and uncomfortable (lie number two). Before we knew it, we had bought plane tickets to Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir. What just happened? We're going to Kashmir? Isn't there a war there or something? Those were our retrospective thoughts at the time.
So we decided that was enough Delhi for one day and took a ride back to our nice little Tibetan Village. Only the driver dropped us on the wrong side of the highway. Remember my description of the roads? Well, now picture us in race stances on the wrong side waiting for our window to cross. We tensed and it was almost 5 minutes before we were able to run screaming across the road. I learned then that many Indian drivers will actually swerve towards you and not away. No theories about why yet... Over population? Please bear in mind that this is all happening in the first 24 hours. But, what's done is done and we started the next leg of our journey towards Kashmir.
I'm sitting here staring at the computer screen now. I have no idea how to describe what it's like to spend time in this particular part of the world. Kashmir is like a paradox. Our ride from the airport was delayed sitting in traffic so a military convoy could drive through. There are men with Oozies or Ak-47s on every corner. Surprisingly, they made me feel more comfortable because I didn't like the way everyone else looked at us. But in the midst of all the tension and squalor is the most beautiful place I have ever laid eyes on. I'm finally in the Himilayas. They are beautifully green here and there are virtually no other tourists. I couldn't decided if we were geniouses or fools. We spent the next two days living on a house boat. We rode boat taxis to water markets and relaxed watching golden sunsets on a crystal clear lake. It was a great way to get the Delhi out of your system.
So we decided that we weren't ready to leave just yet and booked ourselves into a 7 day trek. We camped next to raging blue creeks and saw only gypsys and shephards the entire time. Seeing gypsys? This was a major selling point on the trip for me and I have no idea why in retrospect. They have these giant dogs that look like wolves. I was attacked by one while day hiking to a glacier. I stabed at him with my trekking pole while the gypsy woman threw rocks. She seemed to think it was funny! He didn't get to bite me, though. Thank god too because I learned afterward that the closest rabies vacine is in Bankok. It was a reminder of just how far away from home I am. And also a little bit of foreshadowing.
Lindsay started to get sick that day. She was having pains all over and her throat closed shortly after dark. Her breaths were in gasps and I had no idea how to get this girl to Bankok. We were not consoled when our uneducated and sexist guide, Ashref, decided that she must be on her period and that everything would be ok. This was coming from a man that thought California was the capital of the USA and spent the week trying to convince me to give him 100 Euro so he could mail me maryjuana back home. Thanks, but no thanks Ashref. But we stuck out the night without much sleep and learned what the cause was in the morning. Our hired tent was made out of old ripped canvas and apparently also pretty moldy. Lindsay learned that she is allergic to mold and I learned how to handle Anaphelactic shock (sp?). We spent the rest of the trip sleeping under the stars and I get to call her the glass woman now. So even this story has a happy ending.
So those are the highlights of Kashmir. Except that we watched our pony fall through a rotten bridge into a river. He fell about 20 feet, but was ok. Our pony men (Zuhur, and Gwalom) loaded with up again with luggage as soon as they got him out of the river. Someone call PETA! Then I found god sitting on a cliff... but I lost him again in the hate and suffering that makes up so much of Srinagar. It's easy to find God when you're surrounded by the beauty of the world. The hard part is holding onto that feeling. Kashmir is a great example of the point and counterpoint for belief or disbelief in the supernatural.
9 days near the border of Pakistan and we were ready for a change. We took a 2 day bus straight into the himilayas (which was actually not that bad). At the end, we found ourselves only 450km away from where we started. That's an average of about 20km/hr. But the road was narrow with no guard rail and we felt the we were going fast enough. So now I'm in Leh, deep in the Himilayas. The culture is Buddhist and the feeling is relaxed. There is no place I'd rather be. It's a time for digestion and recooperation before returning to Delhi and then to Nepal. We've earned it.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Ireland is Splendid!
The last two weeks have been spent in recooperation. I past the time enjoying the beautiful scenery and my father's company... and his wallet. This particular entry does not have one single story that can compare to the others that I've already told, so I forgive you if you choose to skip it.
Here is an example of my mind-state entering Ireland. I'm standing at the customs desk and the officer asked me what my golf handicap was... What's this man up to? He had stamped my passport before I even had a chance to respond. I stood there for a few seconds and said "is that it?" He said "yes" and I was in Ireland. No language barrier and not one person asked me for my shoes. Yep, I was free to go wherever I wanted. I just didn't know where. So I stopped by the tourist info desk (they actually have one) and they booked me a room without any surcharge. Then they sold me a bus pass and I was on my way. I had completely forgotten how easy things are supposed to be.
It was dark by the time I arrived in the city center and it occured to me that I haven't really been outside at night for almost 3 months... So I went for a walk. Just because I could. I popped on the old mp3 player and tried my best to get lost... but I couldn't. There are signs directing you to various points of interest. Can you believe that? I couldn't. I spent most the night with a big smile on my face. It was like all of the more difficult parts of African travel were being washed away from me. It was raining and I couldn't have cared less. I mean, it's supposed to rain in Ireland right? Wrong. It hasn't since that night.
And I got to see my dad in the morning! It was like getting the band back together. We started our crazy adventures by renting a car and finding ourselves a nice B and B (Bed and Breakfast). He thought the place where we stayed that night was too noisy... I informed him that I did not hear one rooster crowing or cow mooing and, therefore, it could not have been loud.
I should give a quick description of my dad before I get too far. He's 63 years old and he doesn't move as fast as he used to. But I want to put the qualifier on that statement. It's a mental choice, not a physical ailment (he has a lot of those too). It seemed like he was always a few steps behind reading a sign, or taking a picture. For me, looking at him is kind of like seeing your reflection in one of those circus mirrors. We're so similar that it's scary sometimes. We both have a cheesy sense of humor, for instance. But, there are parts of him that separate us too. There are so many things that I admire about him. He has this uncomprimising sense of right and wrong. He is appalled by litter (there was a lot here). So much that it will undoubtedly be part of all his accounts of our trip. And he seems to have a very categorical mind. His journal of our trip was more like an itinerary of events and places.
My mind is not categorical. Here is how our days went by: Wake, eat, walk or golf, drive, eat, walk or golf, eat and drink, sleep. There you have it. 14 days of events in one sentence. But, let me elaborate of some of the finer points.
The good:
Traditional music played in bars. People will just show up with their instruments and start playing. Sometimes they don't even know eachother. There were some incredible muscians too. Not all of them, though. We listened to this lady belt out a song i've never heard before. But it wasn't hard to tell that she might have been in the wrong key. "WAH- DER- FERD!!!!!" (waterford). That's not going to be easy to forget.
Ms McCarthy. She was one of the ladies who ran one of our many B and B's. One of the most maternal people i've ever met. Dad made me take a picture with her.
The laughs. We had a lot of them. I also learned that I am very good at helping other people finish their meals. But not the other way around. Dad reached for my powerade once and I blurted out "you have your own!" before I could think about the ramifications. He kept "his very own powerade" for the rest of the trip. I never heard the end of it. He even slept with it on the pillow next to him once. He past it down to me when we said goodbye, and I lost it before I could drink it. I honestly didn't know if I wanted to laigh or cry.
The Bad:
Our last B and B. We should have known better. The house smelled like old people and it was filled with teddy bears wearing sunhats. The lady informed us on our arrival that there would be no breakfast in the morning... So what does the second "B" stand for? Her dog barked all night and Dad gave her a piece of his mind. The end product was that we got a refund and an awkward departure in the morning.
The Ugly:
My golf game... It's terrible and no one on the course was safe. I was playing beautiful courses and usually shooting my second shot from the opposite fairway... If I could find my ball.
I've never had two weeks pass so fast. It felt like we had just hit our stride and then it was time to part ways. This traveling thing has become a cycle of hellos and goodbyes and it feels like I've been dumped every time.
I got over it by heading to Belfast in Northern Ireland and here I am. There is so much recent history here. Actually, it doesn't feel like history at all. All job applications ask whether you are catholic or protestant and religion is a difficult subject to discuss. I got lost yesterday and wandered into a parade. A man on the street told me that they were celebrating "a fella that died in the troubles." I walked a few steps away and had to turn around to learn more. I guess this guy was shot and killed by the police 10 years ago. He was part of the Ulster Fighting Forces and had been on his way to kill a member of the IRA when he died. Now he's been martyized as a part of "the troubles."
Here's what I saw. Broken glass everywhere and everyone was drunk. Every building had these elaborately detailed murals of men in black masks and carrying guns. The messages were things like "never surrender" and "our revenge will be the laughter of our children." You could feel the tension and hate. But I never really felt unsafe. Just that I could never really understand what it must be like to be on either side of that kind of hatred. I spent the rest of the day walking until I couldn't think anymore. Then I watched "Team America" with all the German people in my hostel. It was sureal.
And now I'm on my way to London. I'll be living the good life with with my stepdad for the next few days. I heard that he'll be bringing me some clean trousers too. Apparently they don't approve of zip-off pants at the London theater. And I'm four days away from heading back into the developing world... I hope I'm ready. Wish me luck.
Here is an example of my mind-state entering Ireland. I'm standing at the customs desk and the officer asked me what my golf handicap was... What's this man up to? He had stamped my passport before I even had a chance to respond. I stood there for a few seconds and said "is that it?" He said "yes" and I was in Ireland. No language barrier and not one person asked me for my shoes. Yep, I was free to go wherever I wanted. I just didn't know where. So I stopped by the tourist info desk (they actually have one) and they booked me a room without any surcharge. Then they sold me a bus pass and I was on my way. I had completely forgotten how easy things are supposed to be.
It was dark by the time I arrived in the city center and it occured to me that I haven't really been outside at night for almost 3 months... So I went for a walk. Just because I could. I popped on the old mp3 player and tried my best to get lost... but I couldn't. There are signs directing you to various points of interest. Can you believe that? I couldn't. I spent most the night with a big smile on my face. It was like all of the more difficult parts of African travel were being washed away from me. It was raining and I couldn't have cared less. I mean, it's supposed to rain in Ireland right? Wrong. It hasn't since that night.
And I got to see my dad in the morning! It was like getting the band back together. We started our crazy adventures by renting a car and finding ourselves a nice B and B (Bed and Breakfast). He thought the place where we stayed that night was too noisy... I informed him that I did not hear one rooster crowing or cow mooing and, therefore, it could not have been loud.
I should give a quick description of my dad before I get too far. He's 63 years old and he doesn't move as fast as he used to. But I want to put the qualifier on that statement. It's a mental choice, not a physical ailment (he has a lot of those too). It seemed like he was always a few steps behind reading a sign, or taking a picture. For me, looking at him is kind of like seeing your reflection in one of those circus mirrors. We're so similar that it's scary sometimes. We both have a cheesy sense of humor, for instance. But, there are parts of him that separate us too. There are so many things that I admire about him. He has this uncomprimising sense of right and wrong. He is appalled by litter (there was a lot here). So much that it will undoubtedly be part of all his accounts of our trip. And he seems to have a very categorical mind. His journal of our trip was more like an itinerary of events and places.
My mind is not categorical. Here is how our days went by: Wake, eat, walk or golf, drive, eat, walk or golf, eat and drink, sleep. There you have it. 14 days of events in one sentence. But, let me elaborate of some of the finer points.
The good:
Traditional music played in bars. People will just show up with their instruments and start playing. Sometimes they don't even know eachother. There were some incredible muscians too. Not all of them, though. We listened to this lady belt out a song i've never heard before. But it wasn't hard to tell that she might have been in the wrong key. "WAH- DER- FERD!!!!!" (waterford). That's not going to be easy to forget.
Ms McCarthy. She was one of the ladies who ran one of our many B and B's. One of the most maternal people i've ever met. Dad made me take a picture with her.
The laughs. We had a lot of them. I also learned that I am very good at helping other people finish their meals. But not the other way around. Dad reached for my powerade once and I blurted out "you have your own!" before I could think about the ramifications. He kept "his very own powerade" for the rest of the trip. I never heard the end of it. He even slept with it on the pillow next to him once. He past it down to me when we said goodbye, and I lost it before I could drink it. I honestly didn't know if I wanted to laigh or cry.
The Bad:
Our last B and B. We should have known better. The house smelled like old people and it was filled with teddy bears wearing sunhats. The lady informed us on our arrival that there would be no breakfast in the morning... So what does the second "B" stand for? Her dog barked all night and Dad gave her a piece of his mind. The end product was that we got a refund and an awkward departure in the morning.
The Ugly:
My golf game... It's terrible and no one on the course was safe. I was playing beautiful courses and usually shooting my second shot from the opposite fairway... If I could find my ball.
I've never had two weeks pass so fast. It felt like we had just hit our stride and then it was time to part ways. This traveling thing has become a cycle of hellos and goodbyes and it feels like I've been dumped every time.
I got over it by heading to Belfast in Northern Ireland and here I am. There is so much recent history here. Actually, it doesn't feel like history at all. All job applications ask whether you are catholic or protestant and religion is a difficult subject to discuss. I got lost yesterday and wandered into a parade. A man on the street told me that they were celebrating "a fella that died in the troubles." I walked a few steps away and had to turn around to learn more. I guess this guy was shot and killed by the police 10 years ago. He was part of the Ulster Fighting Forces and had been on his way to kill a member of the IRA when he died. Now he's been martyized as a part of "the troubles."
Here's what I saw. Broken glass everywhere and everyone was drunk. Every building had these elaborately detailed murals of men in black masks and carrying guns. The messages were things like "never surrender" and "our revenge will be the laughter of our children." You could feel the tension and hate. But I never really felt unsafe. Just that I could never really understand what it must be like to be on either side of that kind of hatred. I spent the rest of the day walking until I couldn't think anymore. Then I watched "Team America" with all the German people in my hostel. It was sureal.
And now I'm on my way to London. I'll be living the good life with with my stepdad for the next few days. I heard that he'll be bringing me some clean trousers too. Apparently they don't approve of zip-off pants at the London theater. And I'm four days away from heading back into the developing world... I hope I'm ready. Wish me luck.
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