Jen & Adam's Adventures

Wheels on the Bus - Cast Your Own Family!

2011-07-04T13:28:00.000-07:00

The Honeymoon is NOT Over!

2008-08-14T12:52:00.000-07:00

Twelve months ago today we set out on the journey of a lifetime. After countless tuktuks, 75 trains, 41 buses, 26 pick-up trucks, 25 airplanes, 21 boatrides, 3 motorcycles, 3 horses, 2 camels and 1 helicopter (but no partridge in a pear tree) we find ourselves sitting in Frankfurt killing time reflecting on our experiences before boarding our final flight home. A day that we thought that would never come. At any point in our trip, the return flight seemed so far away; yet in retrospect the year has passed so quickly. We have lived amongst poverty and wealth; kindness and con-men; and seen natural and manmade wonders. We feel lucky to have had the opportunity to experience and see more than many do in a lifetime.
Travel does not come without challenge, fortunately the most difficult experiences have evolved into great stories while the good times and kind people we met live on as great memories. The number one question already posed to us has been “where was your favourite place?” A question that is impossible to provide a single answer for. Let’s demonstrate this challenge with the following list:

Favorite People: Myanmar
Favorite Museum: The Apartheid Museum, Johannesburg, South Africa
Favorite Meal: Le Calandre Restaurant, Padua, Italy
Favorite Sailing Destination: Cyclades Islands, Greece
Favorite Beach: Ko Rok Nok, Thailand
Favorite Natural Wonder:(tie): Goreme, Turkey; Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, Emerald Cave, Thailand
Favorite Architecture: Spain (Gaudi & Frank Gehry)
Favorite Wines: Tuscany, Italy
Favorite Party: Running of the Bulls Pamplona, Spain
Favorite Man-made Wonder: Angkor Wat, Cambodia
Most Beautiful City: Capetown, South Africa
Most sobering place: Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, Berlin Germany
Most photogenic city: Venice, Italy
Heftiest dose of culture shock: Rajasthan, India

And the list goes on… if you dare ask the question!!
Although you all may think we just ate and drank our way around the world we actually learned a few things. Adam wanted to write something corny about the “interconnectedness of mankind” but let’s just say this: world events seem more personal than they were prior to this trip. Having visited cities like Istanbul and Jaipur prior to this year’s bombings, countries like Myanmar prior to the hurricaine, and Zimbabwe days before the sham election, gives a whole new perspective to events that often seem so removed from our daily lives. We often ignore the fact that they are impacting real human beings just like us. Okay we promise, no more soapboxing!
Now time for the sap… we often joked that we would probably come back from our honeymoon divorced after spending so much time together. We have derived a mathematical formula that based on the fact that we’ve spent 24 hours a day together for an entire year is probably equivalent to the average couple being married for 10 years. Guess what…. no divorce in sight and surprisingly few arguments! We did fall into different roles in order to successfully negotiate our journey. Adam’s department: major transportation, technology (of course), and communications. Jen: accommodation, dining, daily itineraries, and the often dreaded journal keeping- (volume three is currently in progress). As previously mentioned, it wasn’t all fun and games and there were occasionally moments where one or the other of us was ready to jump on the next flight to Vancouver. Inevitably one would pull the other up by the bootstraps and make the world right again. When undertaking a journey like this you only have each other to rely on. It tests the strengths and exposes flaws, making or breaking the relationship. In our experience it has definitely been a positive influence.
We look forward to the next chapter of our lives together, spending it with our friends and family that we have missed so much this past year.
Beware the eight hour slide show of 9,800 photos that we plan on inflicting upon you soon!

Honeymoon in Kazakhstan

2008-08-14T03:56:00.000-07:00

Off we went to Kazakhstan! We had planned a surprise wedding gift excursion for Natalie and Martin but Martin’s constant quest for clues forced us to create a rouse. We told Nat to pack a desert camoflauge burka and Martin a few pounds of shrapnel for the pipe- bomb classes. We have to admit after three weeks of developing this story, Martin became rather enthusiastic at the prospect of playing with Molotov cocktails…. Should we be worried?
Although the final destination was to be Venice, we further threw them off with one night in Padua enroute. What’s in Padua? Not too much except a fabulous restaurant, “Le Calandre” which more than made it worth the stop. The food was exquisite and the staff had struck the perfect balance between professional and fun. A gift of a “Venice” guidebook over dinner disclosed the next destination. The next morning we made the short journey by train. Arriving at the hotel by water taxi certainly had it’s charm but more importantly surely saved us a few hours as we would’ve never found the tiny back alley that provides land access to the obscure rear entrance to the hotel. Oh yes and there was the fact that Adam had put his back out before leaving Tuscany (the fact that his backpack contained it’s usual contents plus 7 bottles of wine had nothing to do with it of course) so the three of us were thankful to not have to haul the extra luggage over all the little bridges of Venice. We set Natalie and Martin loose during the couple of days to soak in all the sights while we fine tuned our plans for the evenings. Of course the trip would not have been complete without a sunset gondola ride with champagne. We were too selfish to send them off on their own so we joined them to spoil the romance and get our share of the bubbles and the inevitable laughter and fun.
Over the last several weeks it was so enjoyable for us to not have to figure out where to live and how to get there (our jobs for the past year) because Nat and Martin had spent so much time planning this leg of our journey together. After seven weeks of the four of us being together and countless laughs and stories, it’s time for us to separate; Nat and Martin continuing on to Rome and us…. starting our journey back to Vancouver!!!!!!!

Under The Tuscan Sun

2008-08-14T02:27:00.000-07:00

En route from Cinque Terres to Tuscany we decided to stop in Pisa along the way so Natalie and Martin could see the famed Leaning Tower of Pisa. While babysitting the bags at the train station we discovered that there would be no train to pick us up for the remainder of our journey. Thirty minutes later when Nat and Martin returned we made the mad dash across town (on foot) to the central station, arriving just in time for our train.
A brief stopover in Florence found us with some wheels and more importantly, Natalie’s Mom, Anita. What is a visit to Tuscany without a stop at the “instamatic wine dispensary” in Greve. Yes, this is the one we’ve already visited two other times in the past year but we couldn’t resist introducing the gang to this wine-lover’s paradise. With purple teeth we set out to our home for the next week. Apparently having four backseat drivers does not improve one’s odds of navigating (especially when they’re all wined-up), as we had some difficulty finding our villa. At last we arrived at our quaint little farmhouse set on a working olive orchard. We were greeted by our fast-talking, sharp witted Welsh hostess, who proved to be invaluable in organizing wine tours, food, and more wine tours.
In between all the Brunellos, Chianti’s, Supertuscans, and Nobiles we managed to squeeze in visits to Siena, Florence, and San Giminiano. We also stopped in at an Abbey to listen to some Gregorian chanting. Although harmonious, the monks seemed a little distracted: one turning up late in his track pants, another cracking his knuckles, and of course there was a nose picker amongst them as well.
Our visit concluded with a delicious meal in the company of our fellow guests at the olive orchard all seated along a huge farmhouse table under the Tuscan sky.

Cinque Terres

2008-08-12T14:08:00.000-07:00

After a long day of trains, planes, and automobiles; we arrived in Montorosso. We did get a fleeting glance of the leaning tower of Pisa as we whipped past with our cheeks pressed up against the window of the train. Montorosso is one of five villages perched along the rocky coastline of the Italian Riviera known as Cinque Terres (Five Lands). Each of the quaint towns can be visited by bus, train, boat, or foot. Having done a lot of sitting around on the boat for two weeks, we figured the latter option would be most beneficial. We worked up quite a sweat in the 35 C heat clambering along the undulating paths between the villages. We were rewarded with a couple of swims, gelati, and a delicious lunch at an authentic Italian taverna. The wine and lemoncillo certainly did not qualify as performance-enhancing. We did the return journey by boat taking in the view of the villages from the water. The next couple of days were spent kayaking to one of the villages, doing the hike in the opposite direction (at a far less leisurely pace), and spending some time on the beach. With sore legs we ventured off in anticipation of some therapeutic wine consumption in Tuscany!

Acropolis Now

2008-08-09T10:27:00.000-07:00

Our journey landed us in Athens for a couple of nights. Of course our first priority was to attend to our personal grooming. Freshly soaped, shaven, moisturized, and desanded we spent the next couple of days exploring the ancient ruins of Athens. (The male of contingency of the group wants everyone to know that they did NOT moisturize). Walking amongst the ruins, it was moving knowing that Socrates and Plato once strolled these very paths…. Then our thoughts were interrupted by the 200 decibel cries of an old Greek lady screaming into her cellular phone. Of course by Greek standards this probably meant she was having a pleasant chat with her friend. The generally cranky attitudes of the Athenians contrasted starkly with the hospitable and warm interactions that we had had with the locals of the islands. The evenings were spent soaking in the awe-inspiring view of the Acropolis from a more distant and comfy spot on the rooftop bar of our hotel. We look forward to recounting the history through an evening of Greek movies including Homer’s The Odyssey and of course….”My Big Fat Greek Wedding”

The Cyclades Chronicles Part II

2008-08-06T04:24:00.000-07:00

Santorini proved to be a highlight, sailing through the crater of an active volcano was definitely a surreal experience. The following day found us in a former pirate hideaway, a sandstone cove with plenty of caves to hide treasures in. The crystal clear, turquoise waters and network of cave tunnels through which to swim quickly sold us on staying for the night rather than the couple of hours that we had originally planned. We lucked out with the most scenic and private anchorage in the bay right next to the cliffs. We were a little unnerved when we witnessed a large chunk of sandstone crumbling away and landing within a couple of metres of another boat but luckily we made it through the night unscathed. Onwards we sailed to the main harbour of Milos, birthplace of the lovely Venus di Milo. Nat and Jen decided to buy some fresh fish from the neighbouring fishing boat which proved too small and tedious to clean with the boats inadequate utensils so the fish were relegated to dolphin bait. Natalie took us by rental car on a roller coaster ride to the beaches and towns around Milos. This involved squeezing down narrow streets, many hand brake starts and careening around numerous blind corners. Our wild ride took us to a beach that resembled a lunar landscape (see photo) and our other beach excursion found us amply exfoliated due to the small sandstorm stirred up by the wind. We returned to discover our boat dwarfed in the shadow of the “Mother-Ship”, a super-luxury motor yacht named” Siren”. Further research revealed it to be the #77 on the biggest, baddest, luxury yacht in the world list. Yours for only US$600,000 per week!! We kept an eye out for Oprah or Elton but only saw a couple well preserved octogenarians disembarking.
After Milos came the “baiting of the dolphins” or perhaps more accurately “torturing of the dead fish”. Nat and Jen had hatched an elaborate scheme of luring the dolphins to the “Jen and Nat academy of Dolphin Acrobatics”. The thought of living in a dinghy full of water must not have appealed to our flippered friends because strangely enough we didn’t attract any in spite of the disembowelled fish dragging along behind our boat.
The following day was off leisurely start, we even began the lofty undertaking of personal grooming. With Natalie half-naked and Martin half-shaved, there was an abrupt call to all hands-on-deck. The wind had shifted and caused us to drag anchor towards some nasty looking rocks. Our personal hygiene was delayed for yet another day as we quickly pulled up anchor and set our course for the day. The dolphins finally showed up again but Martin’s childhood “Flipper” dreams went unfulfilled despite his best efforts to get the dolphins to frolic with him in the water. A couple nights later found us in the legendary party island of Mykinos. We spent a couple days exploring the white washed village and visiting beaches with names such as “Paradise” and “Superparadise”. Perhaps Fabulous and Superfabulous would have been better names given the teensy white speedos and fantastic drag shows that got started as the sun set on the beach. The evenings were spent gallivanting around town and getting our last dose of the Cyclades night-life before heading back to Syros to return Ionia to her home base.

The Cyclades Chronicles Part 1

2008-07-17T10:13:00.000-07:00

We are writing this blog collaboratively between the four of us (Martin, Nat, Jen, and Adam) we are expecting some creative diversions fuelled by a few glasses of vino in our current marina which is home! Here we go….

With some difficulty procuring a taxi we ended up picking up our vessel which was proudly flying a Canadian flag. We each fell quite naturally into our chromosomal roles as the boys learned about the bits on the boat whilst the girls went out to spend some more money at the supermarket (if you could call it that). In a store the size of a 7-11 but with less selection, the girls managed to fill 5 shopping carts with cans and bags of mystery contents (it’s all Greek to me was a most appropriate phrase on this endeavour).

We set out early the next morning in an effort to beat the gale force weather. Unfortunately, Ionia, our vessel was to be trailed with a ribbon of vomit induced by the 3 metre swells. Natalie’s pre-digested croissant and coffee seemed to beckon pods of dolphins on more than one occasion. They played in the bow wave dipping to and fro beneath our boat, what a magical experience!

We finally found refuge from the gale in a serene bay overlooking a quintessentially Greek fishing village that appeared to be made of white Lego houses. The first night we discovered the hidden delights of our boat as Nat and Jen practiced their “pummel horse routine” on the table that vaguely resembled a pummel horse in a performance that more closely resembled a routine from the “special Olympics”. The not so hidden delights of the island were discovered the next day on our excursion ashore which landed us on a nude beach. If they made us wear a” neckerchief” in Pamplona, we saw one man wearing what could only be described as a “Schlongerchief” shielding his valuables from the hot Mediterranean sun.

The following evening found us sandwiched between an industrial tanker and a Turkish mega-yacht. As we pulled into harbour, we were “greeted’ with the icy stare of an overstuffed Turkish crew member who kept his gaze fixed and his arms folded for the entire time we moored. Not a hello, not an offer of assistance, just a glare. Thank goodness we had had a semi-disastrous dry-run during our lunch stop in the previous village and had worked out all glitches. The situation was soon forgotten after a good meal and several bottles of wine, however the lewd Turk continued staring at us for our entire stay… even the the even-tempered Adam was getting irate. Of course the girls had to dump fuel on the fire by continuing their Olympic rehearsals which only encouraged the staring.

The following day offered excellent sailing punctuated by a brief lull in the wind where we jumped overboard for a quick dip. Unfortunately the wind came back up before Natalie and Martin did….. oh well it’s more peaceful without them anyways.

The next port of call was the party island of Ios. Mooring right in town had its privileges considering the night time activities got started at 2am and continued on until dawn. The days were spent recovering, beaching, and scootering around the island. Our anemic scooters required a little extra help (in the form of pushing them along with our feet) navigating the hilly terrain. We were occasionally blown sideways by the strong breeze, which became even more of a nuisance during our beach visit which found us rather well exfoliated from all the sandblasting. Waiting out the gusts an extra day in Ios, we unsuccessfully attempted another beach visit before retiring to our boat just in time for our afternoon entertainment. Act 1: The three hour disastrous attempt at mooring incorporating numerous three point turns, pirouettes, and aborted docking manoeuvres. Every skipper in the harbour was standing on the bow of his boat anxiously waiting to fend off the uncontrolled approach of the charter boat full of Germans who uncharacteristically had nothing organized for their approach. We ended up having to jump aboard several unattended boats to fend them off as they crashed their way into their slip.

Act 2: Adam and Martin free diving down to our anchor which had snagged on a permanent mooring line. After several dives and a bleeding eardrum the anchor was successfully freed.

Act 3: Gin and tonics on the deck finishing up our unfinished entry from last night.

The weather is settling down and we are all set to sail through volcanic crater of Santorini tomorrow. By the way Adam has not hurt himself YET and the four of us are still enjoying each other’s company.

P.S. Hide the lemons!

Pamplona & Bibao

2008-07-10T13:16:00.001-07:00

We've all heard of Pamplona, famous for their somewhat unique festival called San Fermin or more commonly known as “The Running Of The Bulls”. Since we were in the general area and knowing very little about the festival other than what they show on the 6 o’clock news, we decided to check it out.
We arrived in the afternoon just after the opening ceremonies to a scene difficult to describe. Imagine an entire town of some 100,000 people ALL wearing white outfits with red neckerchiefs and red sashes. And I do mean everyone from newborn babies to the oldest inhabitants. Then triple that with an additional 300,000 or so white and red clad tourists, (mostly Australian and British from our estimates). Take this massive group and turn the entire town into a party where every street and plaza seems to have a band, parade or street party at any time of the day. And let's not forget the Sangria that is regularly launched at the revellers staining your white outfit red as if you’ve just been gored by a bull.
This is the scene that greeted us as we pushed our way very nervously (and conspicuously NOT wearing white) through the drunken crowd in the town square to access our hotel.
A short time later and a quick visit to the local store selling white outfits and we were ready to join in with what we can only described as the biggest party we have ever experienced. The next 48 hours were a blur of dancing, drinking and sleepless nights since the only way to get a good vantage to see the bulls is to wake up at 4am and sit in the cold until the 8am start. It was a long and cold wait for the 30 seconds of action but it was totally worth it. Martin actually ran with a crowd of 3000 or so others as the bulls attempted to exact revenge before reaching the stadium. All in all, an amazing experience but we didn’t have the stamina to last whole 8 days of the festival.
We made our escape from the party and headed to the town of Bilbao, stopping briefly in San Sebastian for lunch. Bilbao is perhaps most famous for the spectacular Guggenheim Museum of Modern art. We wandered the rooms amazed at the things artists can dream up and sell as art. For example, one artist signed his name to a simple bottle holder and proclaimed that because he called it art and signed it, it was art! The building itself is perhaps the best example of art with its stunning titanium “fish scale” exterior and juxtaposed curves and lines. Bilbao seemed to have more to offer with its great Basque food and quaint cobbled streets, but it was just a short visit before heading to Greece.

Hola Amigos!

2008-07-09T15:42:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Barcelona a couple days before Nat & Martin. Just enough time to find some summer attire for the warm days ahead. Unfortunately our timing also coincided with Barcelona’s equivalent of a Boxing day sale. So many people, so few fitting rooms. We wrapped up our shopping in time to pick the Lampas up from the airport- or so we thought. When we got back to our hotel room to change before heading to the airport there was a note on our door—they were at the tapas bar down the street!! It wasn’t until we were jogging down the street that Adam discovered that in our excitement and rush to see old friends he had put his shirt on inside out! It was a classic airport reunion in the middle of a crowded bar. At least the tears were enough to empty a couple of adjacent seats at the bar. We got caught up over a few too many bottles of cava but we did end up getting home before sunrise (barely). The next couple of days were spent doing some light sightseeing and some not-so-light dining. We caught up with Sandra (one of the friends we made last time we were in town) and attempted to repay her for her kindness last visit with a couple rounds at the bar.

We were off early Sunday morning to Pamplona. We thought that at six in the morning we would have the subway all to ourselves (if it was even running) so you can imagine our surprise to see that it was chock full with partiers only just coming home from the bar!

Off to Pamplona to see (or run?) the running of the bulls! Little did we know what we were in for!

Johannesburg

2008-07-07T17:12:00.000-07:00

We ended up with a couple of spare days left in Johannesburg. With a 40% unemployment rate it is no surprise that crime and violence is rife in this city. We elected to stay in one of the safer suburbs, Sandton.

During our stay we did a tour of Soweto, one of the townships. The townships are the communities where Africans were forcefully relocated under apartheid. There are a few middle class houses in Soweto like those of Winnie Mandela and Desmond Tutu but an even greater number live in poverty in shacks constructed of scrap material. We visited a shantytown which was home to 25,000 people who had no electricity, shared 40 water faucets, and 1500 outhouses. The daycare facility constructed of scraps of sheet metal and painted in cheerful red displayed a “this is a gun free zone” sign at the gate. We visited one of the homes, a sparsely furnished two room (no not 2 bedroom – 2 room) shack that was home to one woman and her five children. In spite of the modest conditions it was evident that the owners had a sense of pride and ownership with their neatly kept yards, the odd potted plant, cleanly swept floors and brightly painted doors and window frames.

We also visited the apartheid museum which definitely earned its place as our favourite museum on our trip thus far. The exhibits were interactive and really moving and the architecture correlated with the journey through the history of apartheid. Even four hours wasn’t quite enough to take it all in.

Amidst all the heavy stuff we also managed to fill the social calendar with a great couple that we had met in Kruger that were staying at the same hotel as us. The first night the four of us were too nervous to venture out into the notoriously dangerous streets so we ordered dinner in. By the third night we were getting a bit of cabin fever so we braved the streets (which really weren’t that bad) and walked up to the nearby square for a great evening of dinner, drinks, laughs, and somehow managed to avoid getting mugged. The next evening we were “out of Africa” and on to the last and perhaps most exciting part of our journey… meeting up with Nat and Martin!!!!!

Kruger Park

2008-07-02T14:33:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately it was time to part with our newfound family for the past 12 days. Admittedly, walking into this 16 day excursion we were a little worried about who we might have to put up for such a big chunk of time. I must say we were REALLY lucky. We were blessed with a great group of open-minded, considerate, and interesting people. They made evenings around the campfire with a few bottles of wine reminiscent of hanging out at home with friends. We exchanged hugs and contacts and the next day we were off to Kruger Park to meet up with a new group and hopefully some more wildlife. We were excited to be trading in our tent and arthritis-inducing sleeping mats for our own little rondavel (traditional-style African house).
Our new traveling companions were fantastic with the exception of one couple who collectively had less personality than a brick, the I.Q. of a potato, and a complete inability to stop talking. Somehow, the wildlife wasn’t frightened away by their endless banter and we got to see several different animals. We were all very excited to see a young male lion on our last day. Our driver pursued him down a steep dirt trail before we discovered his truck wasn’t 4 wheel-drive. Nobody was jumping out to push with the lion only 15 feet away, so we all had to clamber over the seats to put weight on the rear axle in order to reverse up the hill. Click here to see some of the wildlife pictures that we captured.

Congratulations Natalie & Martin!

2008-06-29T11:53:00.000-07:00

We’d like to wish Natalie and Martin congratulations on their wedding this weekend. We are looking forward to celebrating when we meet up with them in a couple of days!

Wildlife & Wild Water!

2008-06-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

Our tour group only allowed time for one evening game drive in Chobe Park but it was a fantastic one. We got a close-up view of elephants, giraffes, antelope, baboons and a distant view of some hippos. The highlight was a “not-so-shy” leopard. She was initially napping in a branch of a tree but she ended up waking up, doing some stretches and running nimbly down the tree trunk to look for some dinner; she seemed completely un-phased by the small army of vehicles around the tree. As if that wasn’t enough, we were also lucky enough to see three lions as we exited the park.
The next day we crossed the border into Zimbabwe. I was a bit worried when I saw the massive visa stickers that they were issuing as I didn’t have any spaces that big in my passport. Fortunately I talked the officer into sticking it onto the endorsements page of my passport- phew!
Just inside Zimbabwe we were stopped by a group of officials for a bogus demand that our brand new Toyota truck should have better reflectors (inspite of the reflective strip running all the way around the van). Ncane tried to reason with them for 30 minutes and finally gave-in paying them off with $20 USD to avoid having the vehicle confiscated. The fine was supposed to be 175 billion dollars in the local currency which we obviously didn’t have, having just entered the country. The exchange rate fluctuates wildly jumping from 3 billion dollars to 7 billion dollars for one USD in the three days that we were there.
Our first night we took a cruise along the Zambezi river above the falls. The captain alleviated our fears early on by telling us that he was restricted from going within 2 km of the falls themselves, otherwise we would end up like the occasional hippo that gets carried over whilst attempting to cross the Zambezi. We did get a close up view of the hippos and even got to see a large male expressing all the typical aggression signs, the most disturbing of which was “dung-spraying”, we’ll spare you the details. We also saw several elephants and admired their swimming prowess as one made the 600 metre crossing using his trunk as a snorkel. Ncane had arranged for a visit to our campsite by a group of men that did some traditional songs and dancing for us.
We had the good fortune of arriving three days after the opening of rafting season. So the next day we found ourselves once again on the Zambezi, this time below the falls. The river was still a little too fast so we were restricted to 50% of the rapids. Even these ones were rough enough to flip one of our two rafts!
That evening Ncane took us on a trip through the nearby village. We walked through the market (the price of a tomato was $250,000), visited the beer hall, and saw what was probably an affluent community by Zimbabwean standards. Although, being in Victoria Falls we were largely insulated from the real Zimbabwe, even this community appeared to be very poor. People were constantly offering to trade us goods for the clothing off our backs. Ncane explained why the hospital looked so quiet; there is a lack of staff and medicine so the people don’t even bother with it.. If you get really sick in Zimbabwe you die, unless of course you are the likes of Mugabe who has his own hospital. We saw some of Mugabe’s campaign posters and a polling tent set up in the week preceding his sham election. In spite of the living conditions, the people were incredibly friendly and welcoming.
It was our last day in Victoria Falls and we had yet to see what had brought us here. We could hear the roar of the falls from our campsite which was about 1 km away. Our first glimpse was from a helicopter which gave us a great sense of the massive scale and the geography that has created the world’s largest waterfall. It was so much larger than we had ever imagined. The African’s name for the falls translates into “smoke that thunders”, as the mist from the falls can be seen from many kilometres away. We soon found ourselves in the middle of this mist as we visited the falls by foot next. After getting sufficiently drenched we crossed into no man’s land, the bridge that spans the Zambezi connecting Zimbabwe to Zambia and ogled at the falls some more before heading back to camp.
It is a shame that such a beautiful part of the world is tainted with such political turmoil.

Poo trivia and other things

2008-06-22T10:45:00.001-07:00

Our next adventure saw us departing from Johannesburg on a 16 day camping trip. By day 12 we could finally pronounce our guide, Ncane’s name properly… it required clicking your tongue as though you were tisking somebody and then rolling the click into an N and then finishing off with “anay” A lot of the time he got referred to as “Eddie” for his Eddie Murphy smile. He didn’t mind as he had already given everyone else in the group nicknames… for some reason Adam was the Colonel and I was Miss Fergie. The first couple of days involved a lot of driving. In addition to vast expanses of pavement, we saw hundreds of termite mounds that were probably larger than most downtown Vancouver apartments, a few ostriches hanging out by the side of the road, and plenty of elephants. But the real excitement started on day three! We set out for our trip into the Okavango Delta, a 15,000 km2 stretch of wetlands most of which is inaccessible and rarely visited. We soon discovered how the locals traverse the delta when we were loaded into the traditional dugout canoes known as mokoros. These wobbly boats are pushed along through the shallow delta using a long pole, fortunately we had a skilled poler on board so we just got to sit back and enjoy the scenery. Unlike most of the campsites up to this point there were no barriers to keep the animals out it was just us in the wilderness. We were reminded of this one afternoon when we spotted an elephant grazing within 30 metres of our campsite. All of our wildlife viewing was done on foot, a little unnerving especially when we accidentally came a little too close to another elephant that was hidden by a bush one day. Fortunately we saw him before he saw us! We saw several more elephants, zebra, a python, small game, and several different birds. We encountered an incredible amount of elephant poo, which we discovered you don’t step in but trip over because each lump is at least the size of a football. Oh yes, a bit of poo trivia for you: we found some poo that was completely white…. any guesses which animal it was from?
We amused the polers one afternoon with our attempts to manoeuvre their mokoros- it is definitely harder than it looks! The grand finale was a flight over the delta where we saw even more wildlife, this time from a more comfortable distance.
Then it was time to hit the road again for more exciting adventures… stay tuned for the next instalment from the camping trip.

Cape Town Capers

2008-06-22T10:26:00.000-07:00

36 hours and five flights from Phnom Penh found us in Cape Town. Although it is listed as one of the top five most beautiful cities in the world we wouldn’t find out if it met expectations until the next morning as we arrived under the cover of darkness and rain. Fortunately the weather cooperated and we awoke to a spectacular view of the massive Table Mountain basking in the sunshine. We were told that taking in the view from the top of this geologic wonder is the #1 thing to do in Cape Town so we looked forward to the experience. Day 1: The mountain was closed due to high winds so we got our bearings and a bit of history with a cruise around town on one of those double decker tour buses that every city seems to have. We hopped off for a stroll along Camps Bay beach and a great seafood lunch overlooking the Atlantic before picking up the next bus through the beachside suburbs and back to the waterfront.
Day 2: With the mountain still closed due to high winds we opted for the #2 thing to do in Cape Town: a trip to Robben Island detention center. This was where Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were incarcerated for their involvement in the anti-apartheid movement. It was not uncommon for a prisoner to serve far more time than he was originally sentenced to thanks to special laws that were slipped through government allowing prisoners to be detained indefinitely without trial. Robben Island is now a UNESCO monument and tours are conducted by ex-prisoners who give their personal insight into life in the prison. It was fascinating to learn how the prison became known amongst Africans as the “University” because time served put you in direct contact with the most influential and revolutionary members of the anti-apartheid movement. Illegal communications between prison sections were smuggled inside food trays or put inside tennis balls and “accidentally” lobbed over section walls. Debate and learning also took place during breaks in the hard labour activity of quarrying limestone by hand and smashing rocks.
Day 3 started at the District Six museum commemorating the forced relocation of 60000 black and coloured people, (there was an official distinction between black and coloured people by the government at the time) in an attempt to make Cape Town completely white.
After the museum we rented a car to drive to the Cape Of Good Hope, the most south-western point in Africa. As we were leaving town we were surprised to see the cable car descending Table Mountain, the wind had stopped! We took a ride up the rotating cable car and took in the breathtaking views before continuing down the coast for fish and chips at the seaside and some hiking around the incredible cape cliffs and beaches.
We definitely would’ve spent more time in Cape Town but our next adventure was calling so we’ll have to add it to our growing wishlist of places that we’d like to revisit one day.

Phnom Penh

2008-06-09T21:54:00.000-07:00

Phnom Penh became the center of world attention during the 70’s when the communist Khmer Rouge guerrillas took control, marching the people out the capital into what would become the darkest period of Cambodia’s history. Families were split apart and the entire population subjected to long days of forced labour under conditions of starvation. Those who had an education, had lived in the cities, or had worked for the overthrown government were instantly killed. Children were punished for missing their families. Other children were given guns and carte blanche to use them. Anything worth living for, the Khmer Rouge prohibited. In four years, they slaughtered a quarter of the population: men, women and children in unbelievably brutal ways. It seems that everyone over the age of 30 has a story to tell of this horrific time. These are people that have still not had the small grace of seeing the perpetrators of these horrors brought to justice. Unfortunately, time is running out and in some cases, as with the leader of this reign of terror Pol Pot, it already has.
We visited Tuol Sleng, a school that had been turned into a torture camp for those that were suspected of being opposed to the regime. The thousands of mug-shots of the victims that were tortured and killed here filled several rooms. The faces staring into the camera betrayed a range of emotions from fear to bewilderment, disgust, incomprehension, and defiance. To see some of these haunting images click here
We also visited the “Killing Fields” monument, one of many sites where 20,000 people were buried in mass graves. The bits of fabric, clothing of the dead, still litter the site serving as a reminder of what recent history this is. Meanwhile, a massive monument filled with the skulls of the victims is an unmistakable reminder of the magnitude of the atrocities.
Somehow, in spite of the horrors of the recent past, the city of Phnom Penh retains a great vibe. Locals flock to the immaculately kept green spaces in the evening to play badminton, soccer, or to flirt with one another. There are numerous markets selling beautiful hand loomed silk and rip offs of every imaginable Western label. There’s the flashy Royal Palace where the official Royal staff uniforms consist of ridiculous puffy trousers in vivid colours, one for each different day of the week (and I thought Dairy Queen polyesters were bad). There’s the Silver Pagoda named for its floors crafted entirely of silver. Oh yes, and of course no visit is complete without at least one round of drinks at the Foreign Correspondence Club which has become legendary on the traveller’s circuit. The FCC isn’t the only place in town to quench one’s thirst though; the large ex-pat population has spawned a plethora of great bars and restaurants. Of course, there is no shortage of hole-in-the-wall spots serving up the national specialty of delicious coconut curry in banana leaf known as Amok.

Wat's up in Siem Reap?

2008-06-07T23:56:00.000-07:00

Thanks Kelvin for reminding us that we have been a little slack updating the blog lately. Just over a week ago we flew from Laos to Cambodia to spend our last days in Asia. We arrived in the quaint French colonial town of Siem Reap to see the world famous Angkor Wat and the myriad of other ancient ruins in the vicinity. Used as a backdrop for many movies including Tomb Raider this site was abandoned some 800 years ago to the jungle and rediscovered a little over 100 years ago by the French. Exploring these ruins is like walking through another world. Huge stone faces stare down at visitors while massive banyan trees persist in rearranging the temples millimetre at a time, sending their invasive roots down through the crevices.
I came down with some sort of bug that had almost all the symptoms of every imaginable tropical disease, the worst of which was severe aching in all my joints. Given our recent high risk activities of mingling with mosquitos, chickens, leeches, and raw meat whilst trekking along with the fact that I was sporting a pretty good fever, Jen was quick to whisk me off to the “International Clinic”. With no physical exam and a few questions, the physician quickly came up with the hunch that it was probably gout…. Yes, of course... gout throughout my whole body accompanied by a fever. "Most certainly not an infection or parasite"… yes he actually said that!
Jen was hilarious as she attempted to keep her cool at this ludicrous diagnosis, and quickly put an end to the consultation before questioning his qualifications. Fortunately 24 hours later I was well enough to get out and see the ruins before our bus ride to Phnom Penh.

Help Myanmar

2008-05-20T23:10:00.000-07:00

We're keeping this entry at the top of the pile so you can easily access the links in it. Our latest blog posts will be below this entry for the time being.
Thank you all for reading and commenting on our entry on Myanmar in Despair
Finally, the government seems to be letting some aid into the country. If you haven't donated already, please consider doing so. What seems like a small amount of money to you can go a long way in a country like this. There are several organizations through which to donate.... here are links to a few:

• International Federation of Red Cross & Red Crescent Societies
• World Food Programme
• UNICEF
• UN Refugee Agency
• CARE International
• The Salvation Army

What do you get when you cross Jenny Craig with Betty Ford?

2008-05-20T02:14:00.000-07:00

Well it could be Jenny Ford but the correct answer would be Detox/ Fat Camp in Laos. It began with our mini bus dropping us off in a tiny town and our fellow passengers who had previously been silent, asking why we were getting of at such an obscure place. The only accommodation was very basic thatched hut style with a nice view over the river and a bucket of cold water for shower and flushing the squat toilet. The next day fat camp began. Ok, it was actually a challenging three day trek through the jungle staying in villages and eating sticky rice for every meal. But it certainly detoxed our livers and caused us to shed a few pounds. The jungle trail went up and down hills, through rivers and ended up so muddy that our sandals would not stay on. At one point the mud was so sticky and slippery, Jen opted to take off her shoes and tread barefoot down the muddy slopes. To make matters even more challenging the trail was covered with hundreds of hungry leeches, within the first half hour we each had a small family of them living on our feet. Fortunately we brought along the “big-guns” (80% DEET) which surprisingly didn’t melt our sandals but did remove Jen’s toenail polish and effectively repel the blood-thirsty wrigglers. Our evenings were spent in the villages of the Akha people. In the first village the children were especially curious watching us apprehensively at first and then quickly warming up as we taught them hopscotch and tic-tac-toe. We were very happy to see dinner; very fresh (as in bought from the villagers and killed before our very own eyes) chicken and more sticky rice. The torrential rains that lasted through the night made for some tough hiking the following day but it all paid off with an invitation to a village feast held to celebrate the eviction of some spirits from the village. Again, the children were very curious and gathered around the community showering spot (a bamboo aqueduct of sorts) staring wide-eyed at Jen as she showered in the requisite modest bathing attire of a shoulder to calf sarong.
The feast consisted of a large room full of men sitting in circles on the floor around bamboo dining tables. The menu: raw blood and other unidentifiable bloody bits, raw pork larb (a Laos specialty), cooked pork served in stages from skin to stomach and everything in between, chilli sauce, soup, and of course the ubiquitous sticky rice. Out with the bad spirits, in with the good spirits; the beverage of choice was the locally brewed rice whisky Akha Laos, taken in shots all around the table for the duration of the meal (and some time after). So much for detox.
We had brought some Laos books for the children of the village that ended up being an overwhelming hit even with the adults. They gathered in small groups and listened, captivated as the literate villagers read them aloud. Fortunately they ended up in the hands of the village teacher who was quickly swarmed with children for an impromptu story when he left the feast. If you want to know more about the very well-thought-out organization that publishes these books click here: http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/
We learned a lot about the villagers from our fantastic guide. He explained how the daughters of the family move into the small rice storage huts when they hit puberty, here they can invite male suitors in and entertain them until they are eventually married or pregnant at ripe old age of 14 or so. Our bungalow was near the rice huts and we saw some young teenagers flirting outside as night fell. He also warned us not to go near or take a photo of the “Spirit Gate” through which spirits are ushered out of the village, usually coaxed by the sacrifice of a chicken. Nobody seemed to be too concerned when a herd of cattle when stampeding through it.
After forty kilometres through the mountains, sixty-odd leeches, and a whole lot of mud, rain and sticky rice and we were ready for a nice hot shower.

Flying high over Huay Xai

2008-05-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

The town of Huay Xai, (pronounced hway see) is little more than a sleepy border town enroute to

Thailand

populated by a strangely large population of short legged dogs. I think a fast talking Corgi passed through town several years ago to spread some love. It is also the base for The Gibbon Experience, a unique enterprise started by a Frenchman to show the Lao people they need not burn down forests to make a living but instead use the forest to provide foreigners a chance to see rare Gibbons in their natural habitat.

So we set off for three days in that forest for what is one of the most fun adventures to date. After a three hour drive by 4WD we hiked an hour into the forest before encountering the first in a network of ziplines. For the next two hours we alternated flying over and hiking through the jungle to our accommodation. We soon discovered what fantastic accommodation it was, as we emerged from the trees and flew across a valley ,landing inside our two storey treehouse nestled 150 feet above the forest floor. Click here to experience our first landing or scroll to the bottom to experience an aerial view of one of the treehouse as we fly across one of the valleys. With beds for eight, running water and a bathroom with spectacular views of the valley, we felt like the Swiss Family Robinson!

Day two got even better with an early morning walk to look for the elusive Gibbons followed by swimming at a nearby waterfall and some incredibly long and fast “flights” (400m at 63kmh) through the forest to yet another tree house for the night. Despite the handicap of no alcohol we drew on all the old school games to pass the evenings. A few rounds of home-made pictionary, charades, poker, limbo and some card tricks managed to break the ice and turn strangers into friends. In fact, the seven of us got on so well that we elected to spend yet another night hanging out together when we arrived back in Huay Xai, of course this time we had the luxury of libations. One of the volunteers for the project thought this a small miracle, telling us how most groups separate at the earliest opportunity, having just spent 72 solid hours in the woods together.

Other than some leeches a few birds and a mouse that stored nuts in my shoe, we didn’t experience too much wildlife and certainly no Gibbons, but we did meet some met some great people and had a truly unforgettable experience.

Luang Prabang

2008-05-15T08:35:00.000-07:00

Luang Prabang is an old French colonial style town reminiscent of the pre WW2 days when all of

Laos

was French Indochina. A town with a quiet charm, good food, good shopping and an opportunity to learn more about Lao life.
After eating at Tamarind restaurant we decided to take one of their cooking classes run by a young local named Joy. This started with an early morning visit to the market to see where all the ingredients come from, and while we have been to many markets, going with a local sheds new light on the experience. For example he was able to explain that the bucket of brown sludge this lady was stirring was actually home made fish sauce. A concoction of water, sticky rice powder, salt and dried fish that is left to ferment, (perhaps fester) until the flies stop buzzing around it, usually 6 to 12 months, before it’s ready to use. And the tasty congealed blood used to feed young children because it is easy to gum through and rich in nutrients. He was also able to explain how the markets sell meat without any refrigeration. It seems that the Lao people think the flies covering the meat add flavour and they don’t lay maggots until the afternoon heat arrives, so as long as you shop before lunch, everything’s fine.
Joy took us back to his house where his sister had setup the cute outdoor kitchen, surrounded by banana and bamboo trees and a view overlooking the river. There we spent the next few hours preparing our lunch of tasty treats like fish cooked in spices and wrapped in Banana leaves, sticky rice, Lemongrass stuffed with chicken and various traditional spicy dips of eggplant, tomatoes and (too many) chillies.
The next day was my birthday, so we took a drive to see the spectacular Tat Kuang Si waterfalls for a vigorous hike and refreshing swim in the turquoise waters of the limestone pools. Later in the day we strolled through the night market perusing the local merchandise followed by a special birthday dinner at a French restaurant for some good wine and cheese.

Vang Vieng

2008-05-11T06:15:00.001-07:00

With the promise of being a backpacker’s haven and with mixed reviews, we weren’t exactly sure if we would even like Vang Vieng but since we would be passing through, we figured we’d give it at least 48 hours to find out. Sure enough, there were all the trappings of a backpacker’s mecca, with menus featuring “homesick food” along with happy shakes, happy pizza, or happy anything (meaning magic mushrooms, weed, or opium laced). Reruns of Friends competed with each other on the TV screens of many adjacent restaurants, Bob Marley filled the air at all hours and there were almost more grungy dreadlock clad tourists than there were locals wandering aound. But the prospect of not seeing more Buddist temples, a plethora of activities to choose from and spectacular scenery won us over pretty quickly.

Our first day began by exploring
some caves by inner tube, before climbing aboard our kayaks and paddling downstream. After a few small rapids and a few kilometres from town, we encountered the primary daytime activity for tourists. Floating down river and effectively doing a pub crawl at the numerous makeshift bars offering cheap drinks and fear inducing activities such as the “swing of death” or the “neck cracking zipline”. It was all quite surreal with people swinging and diving into the river, others throwing us lines to `fish` us into a bar blaring music of any genre, as long as it was louder and different to the bar across the river. Obviously we had found our day two activity and while we avoided the neck cracking we did do the swing a few times. Climbing to the top of a very high rickety platform to jump off looks a lot easier than it is and caused many to hesitate.

Continuing the adventure theme, we booked in for some rock climbing at a nearby limestone cliff with a group of Brits and our guide Adam. That was weird having people keep asking, “where is the next hand hold” and me constantly answering, “how should I know” before realizing my mistake. of our day, (and the next coupleWe spent the rest of nights) with our climbing buddies drinking and eating at the many great restaurants and bars in town.

A day of cycling, (on real mountain bikes!!) through neighbouring villages, carrying our bikes through rivers, exploring more caves and cooling off in swimming holes was a welcome escape from the Marley music of town. We did manage to shelter from a thunder storm while our flat tyre was repaired and were eventually forced to turn back when the mud on our wheels stopped them from turning.

Despite all the activity we still managed to lounge around for a few hours in hammocks writing our blog. We were planning to stay for two days and ended up staying for five. This is a place we’ll return to with friends in tow! Any takers?

Sabai-di Laos

2008-05-08T22:28:00.000-07:00

After a three day stop in Bangkok to replace worn out clothes we were off to Laos. Unsure of what to expect, we arrived Laos’ capital city of Vientiane. Our guesthouse was located along the bank of the Mekong, which at this time of the year is more like a creek than a river. We managed to fit in the main sights in a day of cycling around town. This included a visit to one of the many temples, this one happened to be a Buddha-world of sorts with approximately 8000 Buddha figures residing there. We also made the climb to the top of Vientiane’s version of l’Arc de Triomphe, it is even set in the middle of a round-about just like the Parisian version. It is sometimes referred to as the vertical runway because it was constructed with cement purchased by the

that was supposed to be used for the construction of a new airport. Arc de Triomphe aside, we were expecting the French heritage to be evident in the architecture, but it seemed to be more of an influence in the cuisine with street vendors selling crusty baguette sandwiches, plenty of bakeries, and even some great wine shops. Having sated our desire for all things western during our Bangkok binge we actually skipped the wine and French cuisine in favour of some Laos food and BeerLao (the national brew). The food here is definitely a step up from the oily, bland carbohydrates that Myanmar had to offer (sorry Myanmar but it’s the truth). With all the fresh herbs and liberal use of chillies, the flavours seem to fall somewhere between Thai and Vietnamese (Laos is sandwiched in between the two so it’s pretty logical I guess).

We were both in agreement that Laos seems like a pretty cool place so far…laid back, not as touristy as Thailand but with more luxuries than travelling in Myanmar had to offer. I must point out that we use the term luxuries loosely here…. 24 hour electricity, ice, and being able to travel in a bus rather than the back of a pick up truck with bags of rice taking up any potential leg room on an unsealed road for 6 hours at a time definitely qualify as luxury travel.

Myanmar in Despair

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

We have just learned of the extent of the devastation of the cyclone in

Myanma

with the latest death toll surpassing 22,000 people. This is certainly a tragedy by any standards but it seems an especially unfair blow to the

Myanmar

people and with particularly bad timing in the face of the upcoming constitutional vote. Life in

Myanmar

was incredibly difficult even before the cyclone. Many of the people were eager, even desperate, to share with us their message of despair. The general sentiment was that the government effectively turned the international media spotlight away from the people’s cries for help in September by promising a new constitution. Meanwhile, several monks and other political protesters had gone “missing” as the rest of the world stopped paying attention. There seemed to be frustration with the fact that the rest of the world seemed to turn its back on the situation. The outcome of the constitutional vote is expected to be fixed in favour, which will only strengthen the military junta’s position of power. While we were in the country it was actually impossible to figure out what the terms of the constitution were. Any media coverage was completely biased and did not provide any real information, it was just a pile of fear mongering. (check out the pics in full size to see some examples and also see the picture of the office for the National League for Democracy in Bagan which, according to a local, was shut down by the government) In fact, the newspapers seem to be a forum for the government to pat itself on the back for all the good it is doing… always good news about Myanmar and bad news about the rest of the world. For a news article on the media coverage of the referendum click here: http://www.antara.co.id/en/arc/2008/4/24/rsf-no-press-freedom-for-myanmar-constitution-vote/ We also heard reports about the military visiting small villages and threatening the people with consequences if they did not vote in favour of the constitution. Most of the people that we spoke with were planning to boycott the vote, they felt that there was no point in going to the polls when the outcome was already predetermined. Perhaps this is why the government is still keen to go ahead with the constitution in the face of this tragedy, the people’s morale is low and they are too devastated, picking up the pieces of their lives to stage any protest and draw attention to the issues.

In addition to living under the rule of the military junta, the people are facing declining tourist dollars (a situation which is likely to get worse now) and fuel and food prices are at an all time high. The government is lining its pockets and giving nothing back to the people: the roads are terrible, healthcare is abysmal, outside of the major towns electricity is limited to two hours per day, and telephone service is often interrupted. By our estimates, ninety percent of the families live in single room huts with woven wicker walls barely thicker than a sheet of paper; they rely on generators run by expensive petrol to provide most of their electricity. In spite of all their hardships, the people in this country are the kindest, most trustworthy and gentle people you could ever meet. Always greeting us with big, genuine smiles and constantly showing concern for our well being; whether it be walking a kilometre through town with us in the blistering midday heat to make sure we found our way to our hotel, escorting us onto the ferry and keeping us company while we awaited our departure, waiting the extra two hours with us for our late bus, sharing food with us when they thought we might be hungry, or making sure we were okay with being drenched during the water festival. They never asked for a thing in return.

Now we are left wondering if they are even alive, all these people that had such concern for us. We keep thinking about the little ones that would run up and say “hello”, excited to practice their English, blow us kisses before dissolving into laughter on the river banks as our boat pulled away, or coax us into another game of badminton and wonder if they are okay; remembering the hundreds of people labouring in the paddies, planting the new rice that was supposed to feed their community, crops that are likely gone now.

It seemed impossible for these people to lose anything else, they already had nothing… now they have even less.

We have so many more thoughts than cannot be summed up neatly here but hopefully in writing this we can offer some sort of idea, if vague, of what is happening behind the curtain that the government has drawn tightly around the country. Perhaps more importantly and urgently, we can appeal to you to consider making some sort of contribution to help the people of Myanmar through this tragedy. We can only hope the government will open it’s doors wider to the foreign aid that is being offered. We have donated to the International Red Cross only because we know that they already have offices established within the country, but I’m sure there will be many different disaster relief funds set up where ever you are. International Red Cross Link (to donate to Myanmar specifically, select Myanmar under Programme) http://www.icrc.org/web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/iwpList2/Help_the_ICRC?OpenDocument OpenDocument

Here are some links that might of interest (as our surfing time is limited please send us any links that you find relevant and we will be happy to post them):

http://news.aol.com/story/_a/despite-cyclone-myanmars-junta-offers/n20080505232509990009

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/04/09/news/Myanmar-Constitution.php

Regarding media coverage of constitution: http://www.antara.co.id/en/arc/2008/4/24/rsf-no-press-freedom-for-myanmar-constitution-vote/

Bagan In Brief

2008-05-07T05:59:00.000-07:00

An overnighter in Mandalay and we were off to the ruins of Bagan. This is one of those places that cannot be described adequately. Temples, temples, and more temples. There must be thousands of them here. We spent one day in a horse drawn carriage and three other days riding around on bicycles checking them out. Most of the time we were the only people inside, we would search around for the hidden staircases that would lead to the top and the spectacular views that stretched across the plains. Apparently the city was abandoned when rumours that Ghangis Kahn and his marauding army were dropping in for more than just tea.

I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

2008-05-07T05:28:00.000-07:00

Happy to be leaving Mandalay and even happier to be dry, we began a 2 day journey to the mountain town of Hsipaw. It would be a 4 hour drive by pickup to the first town of Pyin U’Lwin followed by an early start the following day to get to Hsipaw. Two hours into the trip we discovered that nobody had told the people in the hills that New Year’s was over and we got hit with our first bucket of water. With laptop, cameras, passports etc. unprotected we were less than impressed as we arrived in the first town. Then to make matters worse, the hotels in town were filthy and roach ridden. When we finally did find one with vacancy outside of town, we found condom wrappers under the bed, a fresh supply under the pillow (the fact that they were strawberry flavoured didn’t help matters) and needed to clean the bathroom ourselves. All of this put us in a foul mood and when our beer arrived in a recycled plastic bottle from who knows where and Jen’s bra broke, we had both had enough. It was this day that sparked the “We are homesick” entry.

Day 2 was a little better and finally dry. A 5am start had us sandwiched into the pickup atop sacks of rice where our feet would normally go. After a bum numbing six hours and two tire changes we were told to get out at the side of the road where we were directed to Mr Charles Guest House. After reviewing the guide book it seemed that the major attraction was the Popcorn Factory? Why did we just put ourselves through that drive? With no better options we grabbed some bikes and not only did we fail to find the factory Jen’s bike lacking in any brakes caused her to bail out as she plummeted downhill towards a bridge. Why are we doing this to ourselves?

The next day was a dramatic improvement as we managed to successfully hike through some farms and rice paddies to a lovely cool swimming hole with waterfalls. The children along the way continually greeted us with a toothy smiling "Goodbye", (who taught them that?). We returned to the guest house to be invited to Passover dinner where we cooked, dined and learned about this Jewish holiday with some newfound friends.

Next morning we caught what was billed as one of the most amazing train journeys back to Mandalay. The highlight of this twelve hour journey (it was sold to us as eight) was the treacherous crossing over a long bridge spanning a canyon that was a terrifying distance below. That the train slowed to a snail’s pace to avoid derailing on the bridge was comforting… I think.

Wild Weather In Burma

2008-05-05T05:54:00.001-07:00

We have heard news regarding the weather in Burma. Don't fear for our safety because we are now in Laos but are a couple of cities behind in the blog.

Madness in Mandalay

2008-05-05T05:29:00.000-07:00

In a town that heats to around 40c every day, Mandalay goes a little crazy at new year when the water festival provides everyone a chance to cool off by throwing water around. Without experiencing it however, it’s difficult to imagine the scale of what we lived through for 5 days, but let me try to paint a picture.

Imagine yourself walking down the street, any street, and every child on that street has a hose or water pistol to soak the innocent passer by, young and old alike. They spy a tourist and make every effort to get you wet, even if that means crossing the street and dodging traffic. A few metres later, a little old lady with a huge smile comes out from her shop with a cup of water to pour over your head. Then a couple teenagers see you approaching and fill their 4 litre buckets and toss the contents at you amid laughter at scoring a tourist. As you contemplate just how drenched you are, a jeep passes and launches another couple of gallons at 40kph with deadly accuracy! And all of this happens in the first hundred metres!

If all this is not enough, you can wander down to the old palace where the festival is in full swing. Here throngs of people in mostly open jeeps carrying 15 or more dancing people, drive around and around for the entire day drinking and being hosed down by water cannons setup on the many stages that blare distorted techno pop music. The cannons are sucking stagnant water from the moat, drowning the recipients and filling the streets with six inches of water. But it doesn’t stop there, the putrid water flowing down the street is then scooped up by children who proceed to throw it over you again. And this goes on for FIVE days!

OK it was fun for the first few days where we participated with our own water pistols and visited the stages. With so few tourists, we were constantly being dragged off to dance with the locals and of course, would become the primary target for the water cannons. The only people exempt from the madness are monks. Is there something wrong with using a monk as a shield? And yes that is me, (Adam) wearing a Longie (mens dress) as I get hosed down by a family in the picture above. I needed something else to wear after I destroyed a pair of shorts. When shopping in Mandalay the largest size they had would not even go past my knees, much to the amusement of Jennifer and the ladies in the store. What made it worse was the fact that the men tie them off in a knot at the front, and the larger the knot the more of a "man" you are. Well due to my larger size I could only muster a small knot. Again to the amusement of all the men who repeatedly offered to retie it for me.

I don’t know how the locals maintain their enthusiasm for the water festival for so many days. On day four we basically hid in our hotel room and by the end it was hard to fake a smile as yet another bucket of water gets thrown your way. We did manage to meet some great people from Canada and Australia who joined us on some expeditions out of town. (Not that we were able to stay dry on these either). The first was a relaxing trip down river to visit temples and villages. The next day was a wet tuk tuk drive to a monastery, a visit to an ancient walled city and finished with a relaxing stroll across a 1.5km long teak bridge for sunset.

New years day finally arrived and we would be able to travel dry, so we packed the kids and set off in yet another pickup bound for the mountain villages.

Inle Lake

2008-05-05T05:14:00.000-07:00

Inle is a roughly 5km long lake nestled in the mountains of

Myanmar

. With lower temperatures and a unique lifestyle, it made a relaxing stopover in our long and bumpy journey.

After finding a room, we grabbed a couple of Chinese built bicycles, (the kind where your knees hit the handle bars and if you are lucky the brakes work, but more on that in a later post) and ventured around the lake to visit some neighbouring villages. The rutted dirt trail took us past villages of simple straw huts, ancient
decaying temples and scores of children who love to come up and say hello or wave as we cycle by.

Most of what we needed to see is achieved by boat so we arranged with someone to pick us up in his motorized canoe for a day around the lake. Our first stop was the weekend market where hundreds of boats were tied up in what looked like a shopping mall parking lot at Christmas. Wandering through the open stalls of local veggies, animals and items was interesting enough, but then I found what I had been searching for. A haircut! There, out in the open were five men cutting hair for the outrageous price of fifty cents a cut, (probably half that for locals)! Judging by the crowd of onlookers I suspect I was the first and only white guy getting a cut that day, or perhaps any day. Five minutes later it was over and I had shed my hippie look for a few more weeks.

We also visited the “floating” village where families make their existance from growing vegetables on their “floating” gardens or by fishing. The children in these villages are so cute as the bounce from hut to canoe with amazing balance. The fishermen also display amazing balance as they stand on one foot at the back of their tiny canoe, row with the other foot and one hand while working a fishing net with their other hand.

Inle was so picturesque and peaceful as we wandered amongst fields where families plough with water buffalo, and where we talked to locals who love to practice their English, but in order to arrive before the water festival we needed to move on to Mandalay. So after a few short days we climbed aboard the 60’s vintage Mazda taxi, home to a colony of mosquitoes, door panels replaced with pictures of cool lakes and waterfalls but with no handles or window winders, and barely enough power to carry us for the hour long drive to the airport.

Golden Rock

2008-04-30T18:41:00.000-07:00

The with no buses going our way, our only option to get from Pha-an to Kyaikto was by “Pickup”. A pickup is as you would expect, a pickup truck, (Ute to the Aussies) usually with a roof, and loaded with as many people and as much cargo as they can load in or on before the axle breaks. We squeezed in with 10 locals and spent 2 hours bouncing down the road before being kicked off in some tiny town. The blank / confused look on our faces must have said “HELP” because the locals told us to wait a few minutes and another pickup would be along. Sure enough, 10 minutes later, the next ride whisked us away for a few more hours of butt numbing excitement on the poorly maintained road. At the end of it we had hoped to be done, but a guy told us we needed to go to the other side of town to get a bus for the last 10km, and the best way to do that was via cycle-rickshaw.

Much to the amusement of the townfolk, Jen decided she should cycle the rickshaw driver to give him a break. It must have been the funniest thing the locals had seen in ages, they were all pointing, laughing, and clapping at the sight of this white girl cycling a local boy while barely maintaining control on the bumpy dirt road. We missed the last bus by minutes and were eventually picked up by a couple of motorcycle taxis that took us to our hotel. (Quite an adventure in itself trying to balance our big backpacks on the motorcycles). We checked into a very nice $12 room and wandered through the village. The children were incredibly friendly here and we ended up playing badminton, giving airplane rides and being chased around by the kids for a couple of hours before dark.

Next morning it was time to climb the hill, (still with sore legs from the previous day’s hike) to see the golden rock. This seems to be a bit of a pilgrimage for the Burmese who visit the holy mountain by the truckload. And I mean that literally. Before we can climb the mountain we get shipped to the base via a dump truck loaded with over a hundred people. You have never experienced cattle class until you ride in a dump truck of wall to wall people weaving up and down mountain roads. This seemed to be the closest most of the locals had been to riding a rollercoaster evoking squeals and laughter each time we careened around a corner (or looks of terror from the 6 foreigners). We had an extra dose of torture being crammed in front of two mischevious monks that seemed, much to their amusement, to have a nasty case of gas… at least we weren’t behind them.

We made our way up the remainder of the mountain on wobbly legs, the golden rock visible in the distance encouraging us along. Finally we were close enough to appreciate the enormity of this gold leafed rock teetering on the edge of the cliff. It almost seemed as if one gust of wind would find it careening over the edge – hope the farting monks don’t get to close! It is said the stone was a hair of Buddha that was brought from the bottom of the ocean and then turned to stone, of course making it a very holy place to visit. We checked out the rock and hiked down for an equally thrilling and painful dump truck ride back to the village.

A wonderful friendly place but with the water festival fast approaching we booked our bus ticket for Mandalay and after a good nights rest we are on the road again.

What's Happenin' in Hpa-an?

2008-04-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

Finally at our destination of Mawlamyine, we extricated ourselves from our cramped seats. Before the pins and needles even had a chance to set in we had showered and were blissfully horizontal in a cheap cubby hole of a room, which in the perspective of the previous 12 hours felt like “The Ritz”.
“It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey” that was our mantra as we prepared for another leg of the journey a few hours later. The next leg was actually supposed to be an enjoyable voyage, a scenic ferry trip up the river. We hauled our travel weary bodies down to the jetty to buy our ferry tickets before venturing through the neighbourhood in search of nourishment. Ordering lunch proved to be a challenge in itself. The menu was entirely in Burmese and our usual fallback method of pointing at some other customer’s plate or a big pot of something that has been prepared was impossible as there was no prepared food in sight. Time to bust out the Burmese phrasebook. Now I must point out that many Asian languages use tone and syllable stress to differentiate words. A simple alteration in emphasis can change “may I please have a glass of milk” to “shake your ta-ta’s lady”. So reading from a phrasebook is often met with a blank stare, as it was in this case. Fortunately, this cloud had a silver lining. The daughter ran off somewhere and returned with the local interpreter in tow. Over lunch this most interesting gentleman sat and chatted with us, telling us about his work for the Red Cross, his many prison sentences for speaking out against the oppressive government, and his opinion on the upcoming constitution. Even though we have all heard of political prisoners, it is an odd experience to be having a conversation with somebody that you, or more certainly they, could be arrested for. A prison sentence for having a voice. Fortunately this man is very courageous and his imprisonment has not silenced him. In fact, we encountered many people that were willing and even eager to voice their opinions. There seemed to be some hope that by telling us, they could let some of the information out of the country. This of course will require a separate post (coming soon).
This new found friend took it upon himself to escort us to the boat and even got us settled on board, chatting our ears off until the horn sounded indicating our imminent departure. The boat was a gift from the Japanese government in the 1940’s and its age showed in the rusting hull and buckling planks of the wooden floors. Our new friend asked only half jokingly if we could swim before bidding us farewell. We sat on the floor (no seats on this luxury liner) under the curious gaze of the locals on board. For most, the novelty of our presence wore off after about an hour but there was a guarantee of at least 3 little pairs of brown eyes resting on us at any given time thereafter. Curiosity and a desire to practice his English got the best of one young monk who started with a couple tentative questions and then the floodgates of inquisition opened. The eldest of the other two monks that he was travelling with us eventually got concerned that we hadn’t eaten enough during the journey and insisted that we take some of the date cookies that he offered us. The trio disembarked shortly before our stop of Hpa-an, inviting us to come and stay in their village. Regretfully, we had to decline knowing that it would be another three days before the next boat plied the river.
Our mantra rang true and the journey upstream was as picturesque as promised. Winding its way through a valley of sugar cane fields, the boat stopped at numerous tiny villages where the children would come running to greet their relatives and wave to the other passengers.
Five hours later and with virtually no passengers left, the boat reached its destination and pulled up to what should have been a jetty but was now a collection of wood in the river. Ever resourceful, the local men used some bamboo and the gangplank to rig something up, and laden with our backpacks we gingerly made our way ashore through the knee deep murky water. Pha-an was a sleepy town with little to do other than hike up the nearby 770m mountain to visit a monastery at the top. The climb was pretty tough: hot, humid and steep. It took us 2 hours to get to the top for the spectacular views, and only 40 minutes to get down. Our legs were like jelly by the time we reached the bottom and hurt for several days afterwards. Our next stop would only add insult to injury as we would be climbing another (mercifully smaller) mountain to the famous Golden Rock of Kyaiktiyo.

Homesick

2008-04-15T06:46:00.002-07:00

We are 4 entries behind on our blog but wanted to post a "here and now" candid entry. We are a little sick of being wet (you'll find out why 4 entries from now) and just homesick in general. In addition to intense cravings for Rice Krispie squares (not that these are a regular part of our diet at home- so i'm not sure why), sushi, and good wine, we are really missing family dinners, visiting with friends, and La Senza. Yes, today the favorite one of my two bras broke - I almost cried. I don't think i'll find anything larger than a AA in this country or any of the next four countries that we are visiting.... and then there is Africa, where i'm sure the bra is listed as an endangered species. A couple days ago Adam tried on a pair of shorts to try and replace one of his sad, stained, torn pairs. He couldn't get the largest size past his knees! Anyways, just wanted to let you all know that we miss you and normal sized clothing terribly and we are counting down to August 15th when we arrive home!

Mingala-ba Myanmar!

2008-04-15T06:33:00.000-07:00

Yangon offered a toned down version of the sensory overload that we first encountered upon setting foot in Delhi. The sidewalks were cluttered with teeny plastic chairs and tables, food vendors, booksellers, and cigar stands caked with stalagmites of the lime that is used to stick the leaves of the cigars together. Although the layer of grime was not as thick as that in Delhi, there was still a healthy dose of filth everywhere.
The first order of business was acquiring some local currency. Crossing the strehe counter of one ofet to the market we were quickly intersected by a man saying money-change? money-change? We agreed on a rate and he hastily led us up some stairs into the upper floor of the market, through a labyrinth of ladies hunched over vintage sewing machines and into what appeared to be the not-quite-open-yet “gem market”. Adam was directed behind t the gem stalls where he awkwardly pulled up one of the plastic kiddy chairs that two other Burmese men managed to make look reasonably comfortable. It took a while to count out the huge stack of one thousand kyat notes that we got in exchange for $100 US. The black market rate is 1200 kyat to $1 US, the official rate… we’re not too sure what that is yet- but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.

Finances out of the way, the next order of business was laundry. When we asked where we might find a laundry we were led to a clothing stall in the market, bewilderment turned to laughter when we discovered that the man thought we had asked for a longyi (the long wrap style skirts that most of the Burmese men wear). We gave up and turned our hotel bathroom into a laundromat, a skill that we have mastered over the past 7 months.
The rest of the day was spent strolling around and checking out the formerly grand British colonial buildings that have faded into ruin despite still being used for a number of official purposes. If we were a novelty to stare at in India, we had achieved minor celebrity (or perhaps freak) status here. The people were very friendly and chatty but I think there were a few that had never encountered foreigners before despite being in the capital city. Walking past a street food stall we saw one man staring at us mouth agape, spoon in hand frozen midway between his mouth and his bowl, he held this pose staring at us until we turned the corner out of his sight. Not by coincidence, our walk-about brought us past the flashy Strand hotel where we to quench our thirst. The bartender chatted with us as he whipped up a refreshingly tart pomelo margarita. Moving on, we stopped into an internet café where checking our emails proved to be a futile endeavour. Most websites were inaccessible, presumably a government attempt to control information.
The next day called for a visit to Yangon’s famous, huge, golden Shwedagon Paya. Gilded in 85 tonnes of gold and crowned with huge diamond, this stupa is stupefying! Unfortunately almost every single Buddha here has been adorned by a halo of tacky flashing LEDs making them look more like a Vegas spectacle than a place of worship.
We had lunch on the lake watching the red robed monks traversing the long footbridge under the shade of their parasols. There was just enough time for a market visit after lunch before boarding our bus to Mawlamyine. With a bus ticket entirely in Burmese, a dark parking lot full of people and buses, and zero illumination (thanks to a power outage) we would have never found our bus had it not been for our most helpful taxi driver. He led us to a candlelit check-in counter and then found our bus for us, which we faithfully stood by until we were allowed to board. We crammed ourselves into the tiny seats, Adam’s knees crushed against the seat in front of him (and this was before the lady in front tried to recline…. repeatedly) doing the best to make ourselves comfortable for the 7 hour journey that lay ahead. Incidentally, it stretched out to be a very uncomfortable 12 hour journey. The first five hours were especially unpleasant as the crappy speakers blared endless tinny karaoke DVD’s at a volume that made conversation impossible. Good thing we splashed out on the deluxe bus!

Sailing Siam

2008-04-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

Without going into the details of the trip, here are some of the highlights… and lowlights of our seven days.
Ko Phi Phi: Setting for the movie, “The Beach” these twin islands are gorgeous but overrun with tourists. If you haven’t seen the movie, rent it and you will get a sense of the gritty hotels, nightlife, beaches and people we have met. The islands are incredible limestone monoliths towering over the water with white sandy beaches where the ocean has eroded the cliffs away. The beach used for the movie is as spectacular as it appears in the movie, at least until 10am when a thousand or more tourists arrive on all manner of marine craft to completely obscure the 500m stretch of sand. Time for us to move on. The Emerald cave is an unforgettable experience that Mad Max suggested we swim through. We heeded his advice to leave our flashlight behind donning our life jackets and jumping into the water. Swimming into the cave was easy and as we moved 20 metres or so in, we found ourselves swimming through the emerald glow of the ocean. 100 metres in the cave makes a right turn into absolute blackness. Swimming consists mostly of feeling for the wall and making sure we don’t panic. Another very slow 100m, a right turn and daylight appears. We emerge from the end of the cave onto the most spectacular beach we have ever seen; a small 300m stretch of white sand fringing a lagoon, completely encircled with sheer cliffs and only accessible via the tunnel. Unbelievable! Anchoring offshore from a small resort and “dressing up” for dinner which at this point means something more than a bathing suit that isn’t too wrinkly, we jump in the dinghy to motor ashore. Just as we approach the beach, we get swamped by a freak wave. Sandy and sopping wet we seek out the darkest beachside table we can find hoping our drenched state will go by unnoticed. Two nights at Ko Rok Nok out of range of day trippers gave us the unspoilt beaches and snorkelling we were looking for. The water was so clear it seemed like our boat was flying over the coral. After dark, swimming through what seemed to be a star filled sky as each movement of our bodies lit water around us with phosphorescent sparkles. A sailing trip is never complete without me hurting myself, and day 4 met that requirement. Sabaii Sabaii had a hatch in the middle of the back deck through which we could climb up a swim ladder. Much to Jen’s amusement (you would have laughed yourself sick Tim) one afternoon I turned and stepped through the hatch not knowing it was open. I would have laughed too had I not straddled a steps like a human pretzel. Fortunately I got away with only a bruise, but I think I invented a new yoga pose. A few days of great sailing with the spinnaker flying and the boat cruising at 8.5 Knots. One afternoon the halyard on the gaffe broke requiring someone to go to the top of the mast to effect repairs. I rigged a seat and asked two Thai men to help pull me to the top. Due to their lack of English and a communication breakdown, (but to the amusement of the local onlookers along the beach) the seat went awry and I was stuck clinging to the top until the guys realised I needed to be lowered. Safely on deck and repairs complete we were able to sail on. We had lousy weather on the return journey having to fight wind, waves and 2 squalls with thunder and lightning. Back in Phuket alive and intact we boarded our bus and began the long 24 hour journey that would eventually find us in Myanmar (Burma).

Beyond Thunderdome

2008-04-11T20:06:00.001-07:00

We had been waiting for a few minutes at the agreed upon meeting place when he came screaming around the corner on a motorbike, his side-car aloft at a 45 degree angle. He was a true seadog from the matted yellow hair sticking out at all angles from a leathery bronzed face right down to the bashed up barefeet that bore teeny stubs resembling cornchips where his toenails ought to have been, the only thing that didn’t fit were his kind, twinkling blue eyes. Of course from the moment we met him he became Mad Max to us but as briny as he was, he was a very likeable guy. We got settled into our little catamaran before heading over to the local restaurant for a chart briefing over dinner and then learned more about Max over a few beers and yes of course…for him a pipe.
Our vessel, Sabaii Sabaii was a mean green machine. Completely held together by string with barely any metal onboard, she looked as if Gilligan, the Skipper and Professor had lashed her together rather than being a legitimate charter vessel. (although Max claimed she was only 4 years old and a fine craft). Being a catamaran, she was scarce on cabin space but ample on deck space. It was the first catamaran that we had ever chartered so we had a few tips from Max, including… this is so cool… a lesson on how to beach the boat! Yes, you can pull the catamaran right up on the sand! We were also pretty excited that the boat came with a spinnaker (that’s the really pretty colourful sail that you see sometimes way out in front of the boat). Most charters don’t come with them because they are finicky to launch, but this one was really easy to rig.
We stayed the night in Phuket hoping for some good strong wind for our first stop Ko Phi Phi Don.

Krabi

2008-03-31T23:05:00.001-07:00

Landing in Krabi town with no plans in place, we hit a local internet café to explore our yacht chartering options. A few hours later and we were put in touch with a Dutch character named Maximillian. All he had left was a 30 foot catamaran. The notion of sailing around through the turquoise waters and anchoring in the white sand coves of the Andaman sea had us sold! We had a poke around town, which seemed strangely quiet until we discovered that it was Easter Sunday. Fortunately, we had a few inside tips (thanks Chantal) and found a great little restaurant with internet where we were able to research some sailing itineraries in with unfettered access to Singha beer and great food. The next day we set out on our three hour journey to Phuket where we would meet up with Max and settle in to our new home for the next seven days
Happy Easter Everyone! Hope the Easter Bunny brought lots of chocolate!

Life's a beach in Ko Pha Ngan

2008-03-31T02:52:00.000-07:00

We managed to score a great little beach bungalow on one of the north eastern beaches of the island, despite showing up unannounced three days before the infamous full moon party. This island has a beach for everyone… from tiny isolated stretches of sand with one or two bungalows to sandy versions of Bourbon street. Our beach was somewhere in between. We spent the days kayaking to the nearby waterfalls, scuba diving, and lounging in hammocks. After nightfall there were plenty of restaurants to try and even a few bars for late night “warm-up parties” (warm up for the full moon of course). We kept it pretty tame most nights, enjoying happy hour and the accompanying entertainment of fire dancers and these really cool fire balloons that were launched from the beach (check out the video). Did we attend the full moon party? OF COURSE! We couldn’t return home with our heads held high if we had turned down the opportunity to attend the biggest beach party in the world.

We jumped in a speedboat and headed down to the party. Enroute the driver pulled off to a pitch black beach and made six people get out of the boat because he was over capacity and he was worried there would be a police check at Hat Rin. He promised to be back in 10 minutes…. meanwhile, we motored on for another 15 minutes before pulling up to the beginnings of what was to be a massive party.
Fortunately the party was just getting warmed up when we arrived, it made it easier to find some friends that we had arranged to meet up with. It was good to be there a little early and watch how quickly the party grew. The entire beach was a dance floor, each of the bars along the sand had different music playing so you could find exactly what you wanted to dance to. Just to make things even more interesting you were never more than 20 feet from a vendor selling little buckets that came with a flask of alcohol, a can of mixer and a bottle of Red Bull… more drunken energy than most people can handle for about $3. Fire dancers provided entertainment until the crowd got inebriated enough to be entertaining in itself. We had a great time and danced for hours, but despite the Red Bull we didn’t have the fortitude to make it to sunrise or the after party which starts at 9 am the next day! Check out the video of the party from above… yes those are all people! (Can't post this now b/c it seems very difficult to find a fast enough connection where we are right now).
We’ve decided that we haven’t had quite enough beach time so we’re making a break for the west coast of Thailand. We are having a hard time deciding where to go though- so many beautiful places and so little time. We are keeping our fingers crossed that we’ll be able to find a last minute sailboat charter…. that way we can cover more ground without having to pack the bags around so much.

To Market We Shall Go…

2008-03-31T02:44:00.000-07:00

The floating market of Damnoen Saduak is supposedly one of the few left in

Thailand

. In an effort to avoid the main glut of tourists that come down by bus from Bangkok each morning, we decided to stay overnight and get an early start. We awoke at the crack of dawn and were picked up on the canal by a longtail boat. We toured through a few of the smaller canals, getting glimpses of the morning rituals of the people that live along the water before heading for the market. Most of the wares were geared towards the tourists (the locals now seem to get their shopping done at a land based market) but seeing the odd boat loaded down with produce and the merchants chatting and laughing with each other, it was easy to imagine what the market once was really like. Breakfast in

Thailand

is not limited to eggs or cereal, anything is eaten any time of the day, so it was noodle soup for me and fried baby bananas for Adam. It was a little unnerving to see a huge wok of bubbling oil suspended over an open flame, perched atop a bobbing longtail boat… but we had a chuckle when the bananas were handed over in a little bucket on a really long pole.

Marketed out we grabbed our bags and headed for what turned out to be an unnecessarily long journey to the island Ko Pa Ngan. We will spare you the details but in short it was several bus rides, interspersed with a lot of waiting (including one 3 hour wait under and overpass on a highway), an experience that bordered on abduction, a boat ride, and to finish it all off a 45 minute ride in the back of a pick up truck on a washed out dirt road. I think we are ready for some time on the beach, or at least in a bed!

Congratulations!

2008-03-31T02:08:00.000-07:00

We just wanted to spread the great news that Michelle & Dave are officially engaged! Congratulations you two! We can't wait to celebrate with you when we get home.

Ancient Ayutthaya

2008-03-23T19:39:00.000-07:00

Completely surrounded by three rivers, it is no surprise that Ayutthaya was once the royal capital of Siam . Most of the ancient architecture has long since been reduced to ruins by the invasion of the Burmese but there are still many impressive sights that make this UNESCO world heritage site a popular stop on the tourist circuit. Arriving after dark, we stopped in our hotel long enough to drop our bags and bask briefly in the coolness of the air conditioning. Sufficiently chilled and offloaded we set out to see what was happening in this ancient city on a Friday night.

We came upon an outdoor theatre which had an audience of about 25 rather disinterested looking locals. We joined in and watched what seemed to be a Chinese opera for a little while, the lead actress seemed very pleased when we joined the crowd, probably because we were the only ones paying attention and even snapping photos. The costumes and make-up were great but eventually the shrillness of the singing through the over-amplified speakers drove us away. We snuck off while the leading lady was off stage and moved on to the small riverside night market. After a market stall dinner and a look around, it was time to retreat to the mercy of a/c once again.
The next day we rented a couple of bicycles and set out to explore some of the ruins. The crumbling remains hinted at what a magnificent place this must have been 500 years ago. We saw many stupas and even more Buddhas including the oft photographed Buddha face surrounded by the roots of a banyan tree. The bright saffron coloured sashes of worship tied about the crumbling remains of many of the Buddhas made for an especially dramatic contrast.
After lunch we came across the rather murky looking local swimming hole. The group of boys that had gathered there chatted with us for a bit and then showed off their skills at jumping off the bridge that spanned the river. A couple hours later the same boys were still playing there as we cruised under the bridge on our longtail boat tour around the island. From the river we saw more wats, some huge lizards, ladies doing laundry, people fishing, and parents bathing their children. Our boat driver even gave us some Thai lessons as we cruised along.
The next day we visited the museum for one final dose of ancient history before heading south to Damnoen Saduak.

Let's talk Bangkok

2008-03-23T04:07:00.000-07:00

After a sad goodbye to everyone in Australia we set out for our Asian adventure and another six months of living out of our backpacks. First stop, (if you can call it that) was Singapore airport. If you must spend 12 hours in an airport, this is the one to do it in. Decent 24 hour food, a massive shopping area and a clean and comfortable hotel INSIDE security made this stopover strangely enjoyable?!? It’s kinda like you are sleeping at your favourite shopping mall and everything is on sale (thanks to the favourable exchange rate)!
We arrived in Bangkok expecting to be greeted by a mob of touts and taxi drivers but were thankfully surprised by an orderly prepaid taxi service. We paid and jumped into an immaculate taxi and set out for our hotel. After our experiences in India, we were surprised to find that the drivers here actually stay on their own side of the road, don’t honk their horn every time they see another car, more or less stay in their own lanes and even stop at red lights!
We splashed out a little on our Bangkok hotel, knowing that we would be spending a fair amount of time there doing some catch up on planning for our journey through Thailand. We will be through Bangkok three times this journey so we took in the sights in moderation in between bouts of poolside research at the hotel.
A trip to one of the many night markets found us in the “red light” area of town. While the merchants tried to sell Jen counterfeit purses, jeans, and jewellery I mainly got bombarded with men, women, and she-men saying “ping pong? ping pong?” and others flashing me little cartoon pictures trying to coax us into one of the many “showrooms” lining the streets.

On the other end of the spectrum we got to see a couple of magnificent wats (temples) and more Buddhas than I can count on both hands and feet. We saw the famous gigantic reclining Buddha and the equally revered Emerald Buddha both set among a maze of beautiful architecture; the latter being set in the Royal Palace grounds. The National Museum is rather large, hosting everything from a collection of antique marionettes to a room full of ornate funeral chariots. There was also a lengthy exhibit detailing the history of Thailand which we had to force feed ourselves as the oppressive heat began to melt our brains.
Getting around this metropolitan city was easy given the many boats that travel the river and the very clean and new looking skytrain. Our hotel was attached to a mall which had it’s own metro stop so we barely had to leave air-conditioned comfort to get on the train.
So far the food has been fantastic. The best meals have come from the street vendors where there is usually no menu, you just ask for your favourite and they concoct it in their teeny little stall. Favorites so far: mango sticky rice, green papaya salad, and a yummy green curry that we had for dinner one night. The fresh pineapple sold by the many fresh fruit vendors is a perfect midday snack.
With some travel plans in mind and a colourful Myanmar visa stamped in our passport (our other main objective in Bangkok) we were ready to set out and see more of Thailand. As for Bangkok there are many things left to see and do on our next couple visits…Thai boxing, the Temple of Dawn, Chinatown, the flower market…. we definitely look forward to returning.

Allana & Mark's Wedding

2008-03-13T09:59:00.000-07:00

Back in Melbourne for one week.

With Jen cooking up some goodies for my mother to dine on after we leave, changing flights, replacing missing gear, and a wedding..... we were running ragged.

The big day arrived and the wedding went off without a hitch. As you would expect the bride and groom looked fantastic, the food was great and a good time was had by all (even though I was the master of ceremonies).

Its over all too quickly before we find ourselves back on a plane and headed for Thailand!

Delhi Revisited

2008-03-13T09:37:00.000-07:00

Its funny how quickly you can become acclimatized to your conditions. Just a few short weeks ago, we were in culture shock at our surroundings in Delhi. But now as we return the night before our flight, Delhi seems so clean and hassle free compared to everywhere else we have been. Our only sight seeing this leg was the Red Fort. While massive, is not that impressive inside, especially after the British finished using it as a military barracks . We must have been in there longer than I thought judging by the beard I left with.

While it hasn't always been easy, we have learned to love India and will be leaving with more stories after 3 short weeks than we gathered in months elsewhere. Being such a massive place, we have only explored a tiny area, but the rest will have to wait for next time.

With us both suffering a mild dose of "Delhi belly", its off to Melbourne for my niece's wedding.

Udaipurfect

2008-03-13T08:47:00.000-07:00

After a lengthy drive in a 50’s vintage Indian built taxi we skirted around the lake and cringed as our driver crammed the large car down the tiny path that led to our hotel. Had the car been any bigger or the alley any smaller, we would’ve needed a giant pot of Vaseline to get there. We were enthusiastically greeted by our German host who escorted us to our spotless and spacious room. Dumping our bags, we ventured to the rooftop café with lovely views overlooking the lake, the main ghat on the opposite shore, (with locals washing their clothes and bathing) and further down, the old palace. If you ask Jen, the view was merely a backdrop for the foamy vision of beauty that was her first real cappuccino in weeks. I guess Nescafe doesn’t quite cut it.

Refreshed and caffeinated, we ventured out to visit the town. The first thing that struck us was how much cleaner Udaipur was compared to many of the cities we had visited recently. The “touts” even seemed friendlier and less invasive. The Udaipurians seemed very proud of the fact that Octopussy was filmed here and every hotel in town had nightly screenings of the Bond flick. We opted for a traditional performance of dance, music, and marionettes instead. The performance was held in a beautiful old haveli that had originally been built to host visiting dignitaries. The courtyard was adorned with ornate stone carving and had been furnished with a plethora of colourful cushions for the audience to lounge on. We felt a little vulnerable in our “front row cushions” when a lady with 10 water pots balanced precariously on her head was dancing rather vigorously right in front of us.

Our visit to the palace, (yes… another one!) was also an exposé on how grandiose an Indian wedding can get. The aviation minister was marrying off his daughter with a party of some 4000 guests, Bollywood stars included. The celebrations, like all good Indian weddings were to last three days. The preparations saw dozens of trees dripping with flower garlands, a huge stage for the entertainment and dancing, 2 jumbotron screens, countless tables filling the various courtyards, and several small armies setting it all up…. and this was just for day 1! Apparently somebody forgot to add our names to the guest list…. Kelvin where are you when we need you?
The palace itself was as beautiful as any we had seen on the journey with many a jewelled room and courtyard. The peacock courtyard in particular carried a sad story. The Raj’s daughter had been mistakenly betrothed to different men in the neighbouring kingdoms; in order to avoid certain war, she killed herself. The heartbroken Raj commissioned a courtyard of brightly coloured peacock mosaics in her memory.
After the palace we wandered around and did some shopping. Amongst the loot: some old framed b & w photographs, a couple of skirts, and some charms for Jen’s souvenir charm bracelet. We scored the best table at a great restaurant overlooking the lake.
Bellies full, we were ushered off to sleep by the throbbing bhangra beat of a neighbouring wedding and awoke to the rhythmic wap, wap, wap, of the ladies beating their laundry down at the ghats. Another day, another palace. This time it was the Raj’s abandoned hunting lodge; “the monsoon palace”, perched atop a rugged mountain peak. There was a Bollywood crew setting up for some event, hanging neglected palace. The view of the city below and the sunset framed by the layers of the surrounding mountains was breathtaking. Flying around the bends all the way down the mountain, our autorickshaw driver was determined to avoid the brakes in an effort build up enough speed to get us as far as possible wbaubles and fabric everywhere; it actually looked pretty cool filling the shell of this abandoned andithout the engine. Much to our surprise, we actually did end up firing it up, although it seemed like he had built up enough velocity to get us back to Delhi

Jaisalmer... Camels gone wild

2008-03-06T06:09:00.000-08:00

We are back in the sanitized safety of Australia, but have a few more tales to tell of India as we’ve fallen behind once again. The truth is, India actually got better the longer we were there. You know how you’ve heard (or experienced) that shortly after giving birth you forget all the bad things about the process (an evolutionary tactic made to trick you into doing it all again). India’s like that… only probably a lot less painful. Are we glad we did it? Yup. Would we go back? Definitely!
So we left off on an overnight train to Jaisalmer. The trip was a surprising success (gauged by the fact that we did not get robbed, groped, or infected with scabies). We were whisked off to our hotel in the wall of the fort and wouldn’t discover it’s full glory until the sun cast some light on our spectacular view of “the golden” city. We happened to be in Jaisalmer for the annual Desert Festival which included some traditional dancing, some very obedient camels marching in formation, a turban tying competition (locals and foreigners), and the pinnacle of the festival: the “Mr. Desert Competition”. Visions of a male swimsuit competition were quickly replaced with a whole lot of facial hair twisted into oversized handlebars! That was just day one… unfortunately we missed out on the next two days of events thanks to a nasty G.I. bug and on the upside, an overnight camel safari.
We had a short ride out to the dunes on our camels Calloo and Maya. Unfortunately the nearly steady stream of flatus from their bums didn’t result in any forward propulsion but we did make it just in time to catch the sunset. The group that we met up with had been riding all day and it was apparent by the way they were hobbling over to greet us. We soon discovered that one of the camels in the group wasn’t your ordinary dromedary, she kept making a disgusting burbling noise and bubbling an enormous tongue out the side of her mouth. To see this for yourselves click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2DFJUd1YI8 Our guide assured us that it was actually quite ordinary behaviour she was “just horny”. Suddenly our musical camels didn’t seem so bad. We gathered around the fire for a home cooked meal and some Rajasthani folk songs before bundling up under the starry desert sky and falling asleep to the gentle melody of tongue burbles from the hot-to-trot she-camel nearby. We were grateful to see sunrise after a rather chilly and fitful sleep. After breakfast we were back astride our smelly steeds and before we knew it we were back in Jaisalmer, showered, and ready to see some sights.
We checked out the palace and some of the havelis- ornate sandstone mansions that had been built by wealthy merchants a couple of centuries ago. Jaisalmer’s prosperity came about from its strategic position on the trade routes between India and Asia. The intricate architectural details on many of the houses are vestiges of the wealth that has long since faded away.
The next day we went to visit one of the many Jain temples within the fort. Jainism is one of the oldest religions in the world and places a large emphasis on karma. Jains’ strong belief in non-violence carries over to their diet, where they are strict vegetarians, usually vegans, and often even refrain from eating root vegetables because that would mean taking the life of an entire plant. The temples were also very ornate and every square inch was covered in sandstone carving.
Off to the airport for our flight to Udaipur!

Painting the town blue... in Jodhpur

2008-02-25T06:54:00.000-08:00

Our arrival in Jodhpur was not all that pleasant after travelling for over 6 hours on what we expected to be a 3 hour trip. Arriving late in the evening we ended up staying in the first hotel that had room; Govind Hotel, what a depressing place that was! No window and a good layer of grime as a floor covering! Why was this place recommended in our bible, the guide book Lonely Planet? Oh well, a bed secured, we walked to a local restaurant also in the Lonely Planet. Hmmmm, bad Indian food, served in questionably sanitary conditions and surrounded by flies. Why was this in the guide book? With no other options nearby, we forced it down and made a b-line back to the hotel stepping across the bodies of dozens of homeless people sleeping in the streets... why was this town in the guide book? Why were we even here? Oh well it was too late to do anything about it and besides, our hotel seemed so much more opulent with the lights out. We did our best to get a good night’s sleep hoping that second impressions would be a whole lot better than first.

Fast forward… next day…. time to find a better hotel. After some research, pounding the pavement and checking out a few places in the neighbourhood, (during which I, Adam was mistaken for a guide book author …. that changes attitudes!) we stumbled across an oasis called Rattan Villas. Quiet garden, large clean room AND internet. Ahhh, with the luxury of it all we didn’t want to leave; but curiosity got the better of us and we ventured forth to figure out why Jodhpur was on our itinerary. Forty rupees ($1) in the autorickshaw had us in the bustle of the old city market. From there we strolled through the ancient narrow streets, past countless stalls, and a maze of blue houses (painted to denote social status) up the hill to the entrance to the Maharaja’s fortress. The setting sun was throwing a golden glow across this blue washed town. Admittedly, we were starting to warm a little to this place. We had also heard that they serve an excellent dinner within the fortress and decided to try our luck. We strolled through the fort gates where the security guard was happy to escort us to the ramparts and ensure we had a table. A great sunset and a romantic candle lit dinner on the ramparts of an 800 year old fortress…. all is forgiven.

Jodhpur. Yes, that is where those baggy thighed riding pants got their name, and they can still be seen on well dressed men about town. Like all the towns of Rajasthan, Jodhpur was home to fiercely proud Rajput warriors who built fortresses atop craggy hills and waged wars against each other, the British, and anyone else that crossed them. So proud in fact, that they refused to lose a battle and live. The fortress even bears the handprints of the Maharaja’s wives who committed suicide on the evening before an un-winnable battle was fought. The fortress is built of intricately carved stone and follows strict designs to keep the Maharaja’s wives out of view of any other men (besides the guarding eunuchs). During a trip to England some 50 years ago, the media snapped a picture of an ankle as one of the wives stepped from her curtained chariot into her awaiting car. So outraged was the Indian government, that all copies of the publication were purchased to keep her honour intact.

Another sunset at the fort gates and a wander through the narrow streets, playing with the children allowed us to ease back into the honking and noise of the city below.

The following day we decided to take a trip into the country and visit some villages. Our first stop was a small house of farmers that have recently received electricity and an electric sewing machine from the government to supplement their income by making textiles. There are many pedal powered sewing machines still in use here, not to mention the several coal fired irons that we’ve seen as well.
It’s a little awkward walking into a home this way. We soon discovered, however, that the curiosity of strangers goes both ways and we were really the ones on display. The grandmother cooked us a fresh chapati, and as is customary offered some opium which our guide kindly consumed on our behalf. The rest of the trip was a combination of, “See the village where they make carpets, want to buy one? See the village where they make pottery, want to buy some”. Not necessarily authentic, but it was fun trying to make our own pots on a stone wheel spun by hand!

Our time done in Jodhpur, we needed to catch an overnight train to Jaisalmer but there was some confusion with our seating. Off we went to the station to (unsuccessfully) sort this out. It seems that just because you pay for 2 seats, doesn’t mean you will actually get two. And forget a refund. “We must all make compromises” was the station master’s reply. The station looked like a refugee camp with people sleeping / living / passed out everywhere. It was also a popular hang out for the rats that scampered about with impunity.

Finally on the train, the conductor sorted out our seats and we attempted to get a few hours sleep. The only noteworthy part of this train journey, (besides the lack of cockroaches) was Adam being woken abruptly at 3am by a man yelling at him. After a rather lengthy and incomprehensible exchange, it turned out it the man was just trying to sell Adam a cup of tea.

Here are a couple videos of the train station. In case you are wondering the second one was a creative endeavour we call "rat cam" in honour of the large vermin population at the station.

Not so pushy Pushkar

2008-02-24T06:18:00.000-08:00

Pushkar, allegedly sprung up from a lotus flower that Brahma dropped here. It is an important destination for Hindus, where they come to visit one of the world’s few Brahaman temples and bathe in the holy waters of the lake.

Despite the magical description, we arrived prepared to deal with scam artists. We had heard a few too many stories about the “priests” that lure tourists down to the lake to make a holy offering and then try to charge them a fortune for the deed. We arrived by train after dark and sharing a taxi with a British couple that we met on the train, saw our first car accident in India. I don’t know how we haven’t seen or been in one up to this point. After paying a mandatory “tourist tax” to a rather unofficial looking man (probably the taxi driver’s cousin) that was stationed at an equally unofficial looking card table at the side of the main road we arrived at Hotel New Park.

At the hotel restaurant we ordered a homesick meal of spaghetti (the town is entirely meat and egg-free) and a Kingfisher beer to wash it down with. We later found out that the town is also “alcohol-free” which is obviously a technicality since our beer arrived wrapped in a newspaper with instructions to drink it in our room- I guess Brahma won’t find out that way. Oh yeah, by the way, Indians do Indian food much better than they do Italian… we should’ve known.

The next morning it was time to make the small trek into town. We were pleasantly surprised at the number of people that said hello to us without trying to sell us on something or another. The main street of town is really like a giant bazaar which winds its way around part of the lake. You wouldn’t even know there is a lake there if it wasn’t for the occasional break in the buildings allowing for the gates that lead down to the ghats (bathing areas). We chose not to visit the main ghats, as we were a little unfamiliar with the expected code of conduct and because it seemed a little voyeuristic to go watch other people bathing as part of a holy ritual. Instead, we found a great café on the other side of the lake where we could check out the rituals at a respectable distance. Our day only got lazier as we walked the rest of the way around the lake and found a nice sunny spot to sit and soak in the atmosphere. We met a chatty little girl selling anklets on the shore. She had a quick visit and showed us her impressive printing skills on the back of a postcard that we had given her. Before moving on, she peeled the sparkly bindi off her forehead and carefully stuck it on mine, leaning back to admire her work.

Amongst the faithful that flock to Pushkar, there are also a large number of resident hippies. It was almost like 80% of the residents of Hornby Island had been transplanted into this little town in the middle of Rajasthan. Later that evening we were to find more Hornby-isms as we were offered Bhang (hash) Lassi’s during our stroll to dinner. I wondered if they too were served in a paper bag to be consumed away from the watchful gaze of Brahma.

The next day saw us breaking a sweat as we climbed a nearby “mountain” to the temple of Brahma’s angry wife Savitri (For details on the Brahma drama click here). The temple was a little anticlimactic but the views were great. Dodging monkeys on the way down, we found an interesting way home through a very poor village with some happy kids to talk with. While we tend to remember the good aspects of the journey, we are often reminded of the realities of life in this region. Today, a few dead animals on the side of the road had become dinner for the hungry dog population including one of their own.

On that pleasant note… time to move on! Jodhpur, we come!

Seeing Jaipur through a third eye

2008-02-16T04:59:00.000-08:00

Our train journey to our next destination found us with a few hours back in Jaipur. Thrust back into the noise, we decided to cling to a few last threads of serenity by going for an ayurvedic massage. We rang up a place that was recommended in the Lonely Planet and made our appointments. An hour later we were dropped off at an unsuspecting looking apartment building. Ushered into a ground floor entrance in the side of the building we were given our options, the ultimate being a full massage finishing with 2 ½ litres of warm oil being slowly drizzled onto your forehead (into your third eye). I opted out of that one, knowing that all that oil would probably produce a blemish resembling a third eye on my forehead. We both elected for the one hour full body massage. I’m not quite sure what we were expecting for what amounted to $16, but apparently dignity wasn’t part of the package.

We were brought into a dimly lit room with new age sitar music playing… so far so good. A curtain dividing the room hung from a rod that had been jammed into the drywall… well, I haven’t seen a Home Depot or an Ikea here, so I could overlook the dismal décor and shoddy workmanship. The male masseur took Adam to one side of the curtain and I was left with my masseuse on the other side. “Everything off” she said as she stood there and watched me disrobe. Oh not to worry, she then helped me assemble a pair of disposable undies onto my body (yes, I later corroborated stories with Adam and the exact same thing was happening on his side). We’re not really sure exactly what the point of these was as we both ended up in the buff anyways. At this point I could’ve just thrown my modesty aside and enjoyed the massage if it wasn’t for the chill of the room. This was really making the Turkish bath experience seem blissful! All but a scant few square inches of my body was drenched in oil and rubbed down, I felt like I was about to be stuffed, trussed and stuck in a roaster like a Thanksgiving turkey. A rolling blackout punctuated the midway point of the massage... saved by the bell? I think not, everyone here has generators as the blackouts occur at least once a day. Finally the excess oil was mopped off of me and I was once again returned to the dignity and warmth of my clothes. We were certainly more than ready to embrace the chaos now! Obviously no pics of this one so we have added a random selection of India so far.

The first picture is a palace built so the Maharani's could gaze upon the city through the beautiful stone latticework, and not be seen themselves. The second is an example of the multitude of street-side barber shops that are everywhere. You rarely see anyone here with a 5 o'clock shadow.

Ranthambhore Retreat

2008-02-15T03:18:00.000-08:00

Having heard there is not much to do in Sawai Madhopur aside from the twice daily tiger safaris we knew we would be spending more time that usual at our hotel. This in mind we decided to “splash out” a little on a nicer hotel. You know.. running hot water, heat, all the luxuries that we have been living without for the last week. It turns out that forking over about the same sum that you would spend on a room at the Super 8 in North America, finds you living in luxury in India. Great staff, clean room, hot water, heat, swimming pool, nightly bonfires, and provided meals(although unfortunately the spices were tamed down a little for the whitey tour bus guests that frequented the place). Despite all the extras, we were most appreciative of the comfortable beds and the peace! The silence was almost deafening at times. Even when the Indian wedding started up next door, the blaring bhangra was tranquil compared to the barking dogs, beeping cars, and general street noise that had been our lullaby for the past week.

We only had one day (two 4 hr safaris) to spot one of the park’s thirty-odd tigers. We figured our chances were pretty slim given the fact that the park is 1300 square km of bush, tall grass, and mountains. Setting out early, I was just looking forward to enjoying the scenery and perhaps seeing a few other native animals and maybe a glimpse of a distant tiger from our spot in the back of an open jeep.

The park is divided up into zones and to prevent the tigers from being overexposed to humans, each group is given a zone by lottery. Zone 5 here we come! We bounced along down a dirt road stopping every once in awhile to check for tracks. We saw deer, peacocks, kingfishers, tracks from a sloth bear and even some tiger paw prints. Finally we rounded a bed to see three other safari vehicles stopped in front of us. We jammed ourselves in between a couple of them, and there they were… two tigers lying right at the side of the road. It turned out that the two we saw were brother and sister cubs, although at two years old they looked almost fully grown. Just on the other side of the road was an adult male. There was definitely some aggression between the siblings and the other male, and a supersized cat fight almost broke out in right front of us. The tigers lay there for several minutes, completely nonplussed even though the vehicles were only about 15 feet away. Eventually, they became a little more active and I became a little more nervous. The female was especially curious, she came around and stood there staring at us over the leaves as we snapped some pictures of her. Of course, as with most tourist outings, somebody had to do something stupid. The passengers that pulled up behind us kept whining and complaining that they wanted to get closer to the tigers (apparently 20 feet just wouldn’t cut it). Finally, one older gentleman, who should’ve known better jumped out of the vehicle to walk closer for a photo. Fortunately for him his guide quickly snatched him back in before he got too far away. We watched the tigers for as long as we were allowed (more park rules on tiger/human exposure), then headed back to our hotel for brekkie and a nice poolside bask in the sun. First time wearing shorts in India- even if only for an hour!

We ended up in the same zone for our afternoon safari which was less fruitful. Enroute our guide stopped at a roadside stand and treated us to some fresh guavas before picking up the others in our group. This time we had a few more people in the vehicle. One couple was a lot of fun, but the other younger couple were annoyingly high maintenance. Apparently they thought travelling with two other tourists in the first class carriage of an Indian train was a bit more culture shock than they had bargained for. They plan on spending the rest of their journey in a chauffeured car and five star hotels, safely insulated from the culture of the country they chose to visit. Coated in dust, we returned to our hotel and made the most of our hot water supply, doing a load of laundry in the tub. It was amazing how much dust we collected over the course of the day!

Our jaunt in Jaipur

2008-02-12T01:16:00.000-08:00

We dragged ourselves out of bed into the misty chill of the early morning arriving 20 minutes early for our 6:15 train which didn’t end up arriving until 8:45. We found a bench on the platform right next to a tea stand. After watching the tea maestro methodically boil, steep, sweeten, spice, and mix several pots of chai, I decided that his sanitation was up to snuff. I was pleasantly surprised to be charged the locals’ price off the bat and handed over what would amount to about 10 cents for a little clay cup of chai. After some observation, I discovered that common practice is to wing your empty cup into the railway tracks and let it smash amongst all the other putrid rubbish that ends up there. The rough little terra cotta vessel is their equivalent of a styrofoam cup: completely disposable, yet biodegradable and insulated!

Finally our train arrived and we bashed our way through the narrow aisle to our assigned seats. The only seats that were left at the time of booking were in the second class sleeper cars- definitely a little … uh shall we say more rudimentary? … than our previous train trip. We found a family of nine had spread out over our seats and the six others in our section. They made some room and found us a novelty once again until the family was distracted by the stream of food and chai vendors continuously filing through the carriage.

Finally we arrived in Jaipur and checked into our hotel. We were pleased to find that our hotel had running hot water for 6 hours of the day- a small luxury after the hot water in a bucket option at our last hotel. The view we discovered, was significantly less impressive as we looked down at the pigs rooting through a makeshift dump on a vacant corner lot.

Our two days in Jaipur left us wishing for more time. The people here seemed much less pushy and there were a lot of things to see. Our autorickshaw driver whisked us off to the Amber fort, the city palace, and the observatory all in one day. Despite the extraordinary and ornate architecture of the fort, the enormity of the largest sundial ever made, and the grandeur of the palace, it was almost more exciting just watching ordinary life around us as we tore around from sight to sight. Painted elephants walking down the streets, shop owners carefully polishing their Ganesh sculptures and adorning them with flowers, and of course there were the three little goats in short waistcoats yodelay-he yodel-ay-he, yodel- ay-he- hoo (unless you are a “The Sound of Music” fan I probably lost you with that one). Since Rajasthan is having their coldest winter in ages, many people are bundling their little goats up in sweaters. It’s so funny to see them running around with their little sleeves rolled up- check out the pic!

Before we left the next afternoon we made a visit to the “palace of the winds”. This tall thin building was built with a honeycomb structure so the Maharanis (the many wives of the Maharaji) could look out at the world and observe different festivals without being seen. The Maharani’s must’ve been little wisps of things since both Adam and I both kept bonking our heads on the low doorways.

We decided to make a brave move and take our shopping blinders off. Up until now our fear of being harassed by the vendors has prevented us from casting much more than a sideways glance at the heaps of merchandise lining the streets. Our first attempt at browsing ended in the purchase of a pashmina as the price dropped dramatically as we were walking away. We packed up and headed for the train to our next stop Sawai Madhopur, home of Ranthambore Park…. where we shall see tigers- hopefully!

Agra Take Two!

2008-02-11T08:43:00.000-08:00

The second day in Agra we binged on all the local tourist attractions, being zoomed around in the relative safety of an autorickshaw with a sober driver.

Of course, the first stop was the breath taking Taj Mahal. We got a sneak peek from our hotel’s rooftop balcony (probably the hotel’s only redeeming quality). We passed the rigorous security scan and were stripped of all dangerous goods including our guidebook! Of course they held it in safekeeping until we returned. Emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj as a memorial for his wife after she died while birthing her 14^th child. Apparently the Emperor was devastated after death and turned grey overnight (hmmm could it have something to do with the fact that he would be raising 14 kids on his own?). The structure is a massive display of intricate marble work inlaid with jade and other precious stones.

After sufficient gawking we swung by the train station to book our ticket for the next day’s journey. We queued up at one of the windows and turned a blind eye as one person cut in front of us. When it happened a second time, Adam confronted the offender. It is astonishing how two people can have such a heated argument yet not comprehend a word the other is saying! Towards the end, the humour of the situation got to Adam and he just chuckled a little which completely confounded this fellow. He whipped open a folder and pulled out some papers with a picture of himself in uniform stapled to them, Adam shrugged, whipped out his wallet and pulled out the first card he came across- his library card! The man studied the card intensely; initially he seemed pretty convinced that it was some important piece of I.D, but obviously not impressed enough to back down. Nevertheless, the crowd behind us seemed distracted enough by the antics to not push in front of us. So far Indians seem very curious and appear to love a little drama served up with their Brahma.

Train tickets in hand we set off for more sights. We also checked out the massive Agra Fort, another tomb known as the baby Taj because of it’s many similar design elements, and soaked in one last view of the Taj’s backside from across the river.

There were some military personnel preventing us from getting too close to the river’s edge because of a dignitary visiting the Taj Mahal…. who other then our very own Prime Minister, Stephen Harper!

We returned to our hotel rooftop for dinner, enjoying our temporary reprieve from the dusty, noisy chaos in the streets below. It was fascinating watching the action without actually being tangled up in it. I have decided that the reason that Indians have perfected the art of finding inner peace through meditation is simply because there is no outer peace to be had here (at least none that we have found yet).

Dinner entertainment was the ever-present monkey side show as the cheeky little primates jumped from trees to rooftops stirring up whatever trouble they dared. We even saw one pinch a pair of trousers from a washing line and haul it three rooftops away before rifling through the pockets and casting them aside.

Each day seems to be getting a little better… sometimes I think the best way of dealing with the difficulties here is to find the humour in them and most of the time that isn’t too hard to do.

Agro in Agra

2008-02-10T00:06:00.000-08:00

Warning this is a long one!
Agra is home to one of the wonders of the world… the Taj Mahal! As such it is probably one of the hottest tourist destinations in India. Where there’s tourists, there’s touts. Stepping off the train was a little overwhelming as there are a few hundred people vying for your attention and your money. The authorities were swinging long sticks around to keep the peddlers from mobbing the bewildered tourists. One rather frou-frou looking woman stood paralyzed with terror, clutching her frilly white pillow in the midst of the dusty chaos; wishing I’m sure, that she had chosen the French Riviera package deal instead.
We negotiated an autorickshaw ride to our hotel. The autorickshaw is a partially enclosed three wheel scooter, a very popular mode of transport here. Although designed to seat two passengers, we have seen some crammed with up to 10 passengers (including people clinging to the sides!).

Here is our very first autorickshaw ride.... it finishes at our hotel- Hotel Kamal.

Our enterprising porter also struck a deal with us to take us to Fatehpur Sikri, an abandoned fortified city about 40km away. Since everyone here seems to be connected by an invisible thread of commissions, we were actually passed onto another man who was to drive us in a huge old 50’s style car… without seatbelts of course. The first ¾ of the drive were a white knuckled dance with death. We found ourselves barrelling down streets dodging cows, pigs, dogs, rickshaws, camels, pedestrians, buses, scooters carrying small families, and anything else that came in our path. Most times this meant swerving directly into the path of some other large oncoming vehicle which would hopefully shift over to accommodate us. There was incessant blowing of horns and a few shouts of what I extrapolated to be Hindi insults out the window. We came within millimetres of sideswiping most things and within a foot of a head on crash on multiple occasions.
We arrived shaken but alive and declined our “highly recommended” tour guide (another invisible thread of commission) hoping for a peaceful walk around the site.
Not quite… there were more people following us around offering to sell us postcards and giving us “free information” that we also declined, only to get angry when we didn’t purchase a souvenir from their buddy at the end of it all.
Nevertheless, the site was full of beautiful architecture and very ornate stonework. There were many people maintaining the site, doing everything by hand including chiselling raw sandstone into large smooth flat pieces.
We were accompanied back down the hill (where we were to meet our driver) by several children. The hardest part about India so far has been the children. They are constantly asking for simple things like pens for school, soap samples, or toothbrushes. The children have clearly learned to associate tourists with handouts and we have come to discover that most locals discourage giving directly to the children as it teaches them that begging is rewarding and they focus more on this than playing or going to school. We will definitely be contributing to a charity as an alternative but in the meantime it is hard to play the bad guy and not succumb to such basic requests. We have given food on occasion and before we learned that direct giving is frowned upon I basically emptied my purse for one little guy who gladly took my toothbrush, sample toothpaste, sewing kit and a couple of pens that I had.
We had a snack of stuffed naan while we waited for our driver. He finally pulled up, his teeth stained red from chewing paan (the local form of spiced chewing tobacco). I was already fretting about the drive back and desperately hoping we would make it before dark (headlights are highly underutilised here) so my gut feeling that he was acting a bit odd was tossed aside and we jumped in the car and settled in for the joyride. We were drifting around on the road quite a bit, but given the driving style here of dodging obstacles and really not staying on any particular side of the road, I wasn’t quite sure if it was abnormal. We also noticed he wasn’t using his horn – definitely abnormal. I started watching his eyes in the rear-view mirror and noticed that they were drifting closed. Adam told him to wake up and he mumbled something. Finally after a couple very close encounters (could be considered normal) his eyes closed completely. We screamed at him to stop and he basically passed out right there on the road- he had stopped accelerating but didn’t actually brake until we screamed at him again. Then he lolled his head around and gave us this dopey, eyes half closed kind of smile?!
Fortunately we were at a tiny little roadside village. We jumped out of the car and spotted an official looking guy in a green beret. We asked for a taxi and he pointed at our big white car that was now slowly reversing all over the highway back towards us. We explained the situation as the driver got out of the car and within the next sixty seconds we had 200 villagers (no exaggeration) mobbed around us to see what the commotion was about. At first we were a little nervous but as the driver tried to explain his side of the story it was clear that the crowd also realized that he was drunk or stoned and were siding with us. One of the villagers appeared to be ripping a strip off of him in Hindi, wagging his finger and yelling. We just wanted the mob to disperse so we could work on a way of getting home; Adam defused the situation by paying the driver his fare just as the bus to Agra pulled up. Some villagers flagged the bus as it started to pull away and hurried us onto it. We were directed to an elevated bench seat facing the driver right next to the flashing LED shrine to Ganesh on the dashboard. Darn, no cricket match overhead to distract the onlookers this time. Despite the penetrating stares of the twenty-odd passengers, it was the happiest bus ride I have ever had.

Namaste India

2008-02-08T09:43:00.000-08:00

Our first 24 hours in India were spent with only the clothes on our back. Our flight was delayed in Melbourne due to a thunderstorm and we had to sprint to make our connection in Singapore. We were warned in advance that our luggage wouldn’t make the connection and much to our surprise we were given 4,000 Rupees each (about $100 Cdn) for the inconvenience. We were actually quite happy with Jet Airways (India’s budget airline). Believe it or not even the meal was good, a nice spicy curried fish.
We arrived at an obscenely early hour of the morning and were greeted by the hotel “boy” who whisked us off to our hotel. The first thing we noticed was the Indian drivers’ liberal use of the horn. Even when approaching a vacant intersection it gets hammered a couple of times. Winding through the side streets to our hotel we were a little nervous about our chosen neighbourhood. Open fires in the streets, stray dogs, and everything just looking like it needed a good scrubbing. Fortunately our hotel room turned out to exceed our expectations (I think our expectations were low having read a whole lot of shoddy hotel reviews prior to arriving). The complimentary dental hygiene kit was especially appreciated considering we wouldn’t see our luggage for another 24 hours.
Try as we may, we were unable to sleep past the crack of dawn (which was only a couple hours away anyway) because of the symphony of barking dogs, beeping cars, and muffler-less vehicles that clattered up from the streets below. We set out to explore Delhi on foot, despite the autorickshaw driver that stalked us for the first kilometre of our walk. I’ve heard that India can be a bit of a “sensory overload” at times and I would have to say that is a gross understatement. At times the only thing that prevented me from stopping a staring with my mouth agape was the fact that there were people everywhere hassling us to buy stuff. If we kept on moving we kept the hassling to a minimum. We even had a guy offer to clean our ears for us!?? He had a rather tired looking Q-tip poking out of his hat band; needless to say we declined. Everywhere we went, people stared at us; a behaviour we can expect for the entire trip I think. Our walk brought us to the “hub” of Delhi, Connaught Place. We were both expecting to encounter some semblance of a CBD- a few skyscrapers, some more polished looking streets perhaps, but quickly discovered that our neighbourhood was a good reflection of what most of the city looked like. We managed to find a clean enough restaurant for lunch where we were seated just below the cricket match playing on TV. We figured this was a strategic move so that the patrons didn’t have to crane their necks to stare at us during the commercial breaks. After lunch we booked some train tickets and managed to visit a couple of the bazaars.
We took the metro back home at dusk. I was a little apprehensive of doing the walk through our neighbourhood after dark but we were met with a pleasant surprise when we discovered that the streets turned into a lively night market.
The unpleasant surprise was that our luggage had not been delivered, and the airport staff were refusing to answer the phone. There was some urgency in the matter due to the fact that we were leaving on a very early train the next morning and we didn’t want our luggage chasing us around India on the back of some camel. We finally got through to the lost luggage counter at 2am and managed to get a taxi out to the airport, pick up our bags, and squeeze in a little nap before leaving for the train at 5:30.

Santa Down Under

2008-02-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

After months of carting the kids around, we were looking forward to stopping for awhile and surrounding ourselves with friends and family. Tim had graciously offered his spare room, his car and access to his restaurant any time of day. In fact we may have squeezed our way into poor Tim’s life a little too much considering that he personally escorted us to the airport making sure we were really off to India. But lets go back to the beginning, for there are many stories to tell from this leg of our journey.

We arrived mid December in the thick of the holiday spirit……. Australian style. The lengthy daylight saving inspired days of +30c with Santa walking through the shopping malls dressed in full furry redness, while Christmas carols rejoice about dashing through the snow that would last less than a millisecond outside. That’s pretty much all we saw of our first week in Berwick as we scrambled to replace clothing that the Spanish postal service had misplaced. Not to mention the shifts we both put into the restaurant bartending to help Tim through the Christmas rush.

My sister Carolyn, (those of you at the wedding would remember her for the heartfelt speech she gave of cross -dressing me when I was a baby) has hosted the last few Christmas dinners so it was decided to have it at my Mother's house with Jen & I doing the cooking. We took over Tim's restaurant and Jen had a ball preparing the traditional Canadian style Christmas feast in a full industrial kitchen. The cooking was finished off at Mum's and all 14 of us stuffed ourselves with turkey and trimmings.
New years was a laid back affair with us taking desperate measures to escape the 43c heat at the Gold Class Cinema, where we could relax in the wonderfully cool darkness and watch a movie. Actually, for the non Aussie readers, Goldclass is something we NEED in Canada. A cinema with full reclining chairs, where staff come in and serve you food and wine at your seat during the movie. NICE. The rest of the New Year was rung in Aussie style (on the beach with an Eskie full of beverages).

Early January had us headed into the country for my cousin Leonard`s wedding. Country hospitality and the chance to catch up with family I have not seen in 20 years was certainly something I was not going to miss.

Of course a trip to Aus is not complete without a little wine tasting so an overnight expedition to the Yarra Valley was a great trip into the countryside courtesy of Neil who booked us a fantastic room with a view of the entire valley as our wedding gift.
We enjoyed it so much that we had to head back out for a day trip when Jen's friends Jessica and Steve met up with us!
With India looming quickly, Tim hosted a well attended BBQ, it was grea to catch up with old friends!

And we cannot forget our annual pilgrimage to Albury for a visit with Matt & Vanessa who took us out for a day of music in the vineyards at the annual “Day On The Green” where we partied with some classic Aussie bands. A little too much, considering the slow start to Sunday. Abigail was showing off her newfound skill of walking and babbling, and she's as cute as ever.

We are excited to be headed off to India and all that a new country has to offer. We've been told that we will either love it or hate it. Which will it be?

Frankfurt & Kronberg

2008-01-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

Donning several layers of mismatched clothing in an attempt to protect ourselves from the 4 a.m. chill of central Turkey seemed like a great plan when we set out that morning. Eight hours and one country later, our makeshift “winter ensemble" left us feeling just a little conspicuous as we crossed the threshold of Empress Friedrich’s former palace. This wasn’t just a visit to a museum or tourist attraction, we actually had the privilege of spending two glorious nights here. Certainly a wee bit more glamorous than our usual accommodations (recall the 4 Seasons Pammukale where Adam had to engage in some backgammon gambling to acquire a heater for our room); this stay was a very special and most generous gift from Georg and Nadine. Set in the quaint village of Kronberg just outside of Georg’s hometown of Frankfurt, Friedrichshof Castle is still decorated with the artwork and furniture of the Empress who built it as a monument to her late husband.
Despite our “bag lady chic” attire and overstuffed backpacks, the hotel staff was exceptionally gracious. We were shown to our suite and given the scoop on all of our amenities, listening patiently and barely concealing our giddiness to be staying in such a luxurious suite. Once our hostess left, our composure dissolved into a little jig of glee around the room. The evening only kept getting better: chilled champagne, a nice hot bubble bath, fluffy robes, squishy slippers, and a beautiful dinner in the hotel restaurant (minus the robes and slippers of course). We felt like royalty ourselves! Thank you, thank you, thank you Georg and Nadine!
The next morning, the lure of the Christmas markets finally pried us from our downy enclave of a bed. First stop, the Frankfurt market! Having been in a Muslim country for the lead up to Christmas this year, we really missed out on seeing the armies of plastic dancing Santa’s taking over the shelves of Halloween crap to the monotony of overplayed Christmas carols. So it was actually really fun to get plunged headlong into the Christmas spirit without having been desensitized by the usual two months of Christmas commercialism. The market wares were original and locally made; everything from wooden toys to woolly slippers, oh yes, and the inadvertently obscene chocolate covered fruit! That is a banana- I swear!
Instead of the usual panicky and exhausted shoppers battling for a parking spot at the local mall, we observed locals laughing and catching up over Glühwein. We quickly found out why the spiced, mulled wine was so popular. Besides being delicious, it kept the chill off while we perused the handmade wares for Christmas prezzies.
In the evening before returning to our palace we visited the smaller but charming little Kronberg Christmas market. The rest of the evening was spent soaking in every last drop of luxury before setting out the next morning for our lengthy journey to Melbourne. One more time... thank you Georg and Nadine!

Leftover Turkey

2008-01-08T05:17:00.000-08:00

You’re probably sick of Christmas leftovers by now but we have one more helping of Turkey for you. Our final destination in Turkey was the magical region of Cappadocia. A geological Disneyland, the landscape is characterized by multiple strange rock formations ranging in form from tall mushrooms, undulating ledges and some oversized anatomical “unmentionables”. Hundreds of these fairy chimneys, as they have been dubbed, have been tunnelled out over the years to be used as homes. It would seem however, that cave dwelling has fallen out of favour in recent times and now, most of the chimneys are vacant save for the occasional hotel and much to our delight a local police station.

Another one of Amir’s geocache adventures uncovered a vacant Flintstones style apartment complex.
The explorations continued below the surface when we visited one of the nearby underground cave cities. This particular city extended seven storeys below ground although visitors are only allowed to weave their way through the tiny tunnels as deep as five storeys, more than deep enough to exacerbate even a mild case of claustrophobia! Our hired tour guide “little Moustafa” was only about 5 feet tall and perfectly built given his occupation. “Little Moustafa” would go scuttling down the tiny passages at breakneck speed crouched over like a little hobbit. Meanwhile, we fumbled after him bumping our heads and cursing along the way trying not to lose sight of him for fear of being lost AND concussed in the underground labyrinth.
Ah yes, then there was “Turkish Nights” an evening of fake “authentic” Turkish ceremonies attended by busloads of other tourists. Seeing Adam and Amir get dragged up for bellydancing lessons was worth the price of admission. Alas, since both were forced to strip off their shirts, the video has been marked as "classified" and we are unable to publish it here.

We bid our temporary family goodbye and after a slight challenge attempting to find the airport, we headed for Frankfurt and then on to Australia.

Around and Around in Konya

2007-12-22T20:40:00.000-08:00

It was early morning as we packed the family into our car for a long drive to Konya, home of the “Whirling Dervish”. What exactly is a Whirling Dervish you may ask? Well we were not to sure either since the only time we had heard this term before, was perhaps to describe Colleen selling realestate, or Natalie cooking for a dinner party, so we were a little curious to say the least.

Coincidentally, it seemed that we were arriving for the festival of Whirling Dervishes, so, based on our only frame of reference, we were assured of an impressive spectacle of Turkish men wielding pots, pans as they try to sell us carpets (we now realize that normally Turkish men only wield glasses of tea as they play cards, but they will always know someone that can do you a deal on a carpet).

Fortunately the Lonely Planet, our ever present companion and guide book, was able to shed some light on this unique religious group and we learned that the Dervish are a Muslim sect that whirl during worship to reach a trance like state.

After spending the morning learning more on this religious group, we assembled with the almost exclusively Turkish audience to take in the whirling. At the start of the ceremony, the Dervish solemnly stroll out in black cloaks and shed them (symbolising the shedding of earthly bonds) and begin to whirl around, and around, and around. With one hand facing up as they reach for heaven and one hand facing down as they hold onto their mortality, on they whirl …. for over an hour they twirl around and around. Putting themselves and the audience in a trance or to sleep. A very relaxing experience to say the least.

We have a much longer video, but I think you get the idea.

The whirling over, we decided to have an early dinner and some wine at our hotel, but having a wine or beer in Konya highlights this city's other reputation. No alcohol! It took some searching and questioning, but we eventually found a small place down a side street that would sell us the much frowned upon fluids. It felt like we were trying to score some hard drugs!

A family dinner of bread, chiselled pastrami (thanks Amir and Adrian for the hard work) and goat skin wrapped cheese finished a unique day.

Two more blogs until we reach Australia!

We hope everyone at home has a safe and happy Christmas. Our thoughts will be with you all.

Castles Of Cotton

2007-12-14T21:59:00.000-08:00

Turkey has highest accident rate in all of Europe, not surprising when you have people like this on the road: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpAaV5BqvTc . Fortunately we would be flying out of Istanbul, sparing us from the hazards of belly dancing cab drivers! The driving was inevitable though, and the next day we set out from Izmir with fear in our hearts. Fortunately our rental car had an Evil Eye built into its model logo, so we would be protected from dangers (at least the ones coming from behind!).
We arrived in Selcuk and navigated our way to our home for the next couple of nights. Considerably cheaper than Istanbul, we were able to find a room here for $20 a night- breakfast and shower included. Hot water? Well that was another story, but at least we got it working the second morning. At breakfast we were surprised to find a familiar face; Amir, an outgoing New Yorker who we had briefly met on a ferry ride in Istanbul, was also a guest at our hotel! Amir then introduced us to Adrian and Gabrielle, a couple from Malaysia that he had also met at the hotel. The five of us set out to see the nearby ruins of Ephesus. Yes, more Roman ruins!
That afternoon, we discovered Amir’s penchant for geo-caching, and found ourselves climbing the mountain behind Ephesus in search of a box that we would never find, but it was all worth it to take in the panoramic view of the valley. (Geo-caching is the activity of finding a hidden treasure using a GPS device, usually in picturesque or interesting locations).
Over breakfast the second morning it was decided that we would all travel to Pamukkale together, and thus our family was born (family for the next five days at least). Thanks to Amir’s GPS and four backseat drivers, we arrived in a tidy two hours and checked in to the Four Seasons Pamukkale. Luxury? I think not, check out the picture.

Pammukale translates literally into “cotton castle”. Calcium-rich hot springs have created the snowy white “castle” or travertines with their unique patterns of deposits. The rippled and cratered surface more resembled the set of a 60’s sci-fi flick than a castle.
Of course the Romans discovered this miracle of nature too, as evidenced by the nearby ruins of their “spa city”. After warming our toes we wandered the ruins, hoping to find the Plutonium, a spring dedicated to Pluto (God of the underworld) that gives off toxic vapours. Our explorations were terminated when the last sliver of daylight slipped away (and it started to get bloody cold!).

Back at the “One Season Hotel” (renamed by us due to its chilly rooms) we gathered in the common room hoping to glean some warmth, or at least to numb the chill with some wine. Adam and Amir both challenged our host to a couple games of backgammon. The wager… wine and beer of course! The well worn backgammon board foreshadowed our boys’ resounding defeat.

Fortunately, we all ended up sharing the winnings anyway.

Istanbul (not Constantinople)

2007-12-08T10:02:00.000-08:00

We have a special treat for this entry. Our guest bloggers from Vancouver, Kelvin and Chris offered, (after some pressure) to craft this account of their visit with us.
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Baaaahh to Istanbul!

If you like eating lamb, this is paradise. Lamb kababs, lamb soup,

lamb in Boraks, lamb Baklavas (seriously), lamb everywhere. Non-lamb eaters resorted to vegetarian dishes such as chicken – yes, chicken is considered a vegetable in Turkey.

Welcome to the first (and probably only) guest installment of the Jen & Adam Adventures Blog! Most Excellent, dudes! Don't worry – everything we learned about writing, grammerization and blogging, we learned from Lisa (see previous blog entries).

So… We went to some touristy stuff. it was cool. Really, just look at the pictures. We'll try to just hit the most important stuff; namely drinking and nakedness (Kelvin refused to partake in the
nakedness because he wasn't allowed to join Jen in the ladies section of the Hamam… and because he wanted to "stay dirty", so Adam and Chris relayed the censored version of their experience).

The bath experience was remarkable. But, we have to say, there was much more nudity over in the women's side. Anyway, picture a large, ex- Eastern Bloc Olympic wrestling team member pummeling you and then scratching you with 50grit sandpaper. It's kind of like that,
but with more soap bubbles. This is all capped off by the complimentary underwear, which is fortunate since we would have had to change ours after that experience (if we had any on in the first place).

Drinking the local Effes beer became the regular pastime, with the occasional glass of wine. Definitely no hard stuff, which is taxed heavily as we found out after happening upon a locals' bar out of the tourist district. (It's easy to spot when you leave the tourist districts; the piles of burning garbage and crumbling buildings are a dead giveaway) Jen was a hit at the bar, being the only woman there. Actually, the only woman to be seen within a 5 block radius.

Istanbul is a fascinating city even without the booze and baths. Folks are generally very friendly and helpful, and while they'll drive a hard bargain, upsell, or overprice merchandise, there's no cheating.

And then there's all the amazing history of a city situated with one side in Europe and the other in Asia. The regular melody of the call to prayer blaring through loudspeakers all over the city, and the domes of the mosques perched on the many hills of the city are sounds and sights that will not be forgotten.

This was certainly a memorable trip; Istanbul is a city full of character and life! We had an amazing time and we're so glad to have been able to share a week with Adam and Jen in their trek (almost) around the world! We thank you… "from the Hut!".

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Thanks for the blog Kelvin and Chris. But a few pictures need some explaination.

(1) Yes that is Kelvin sticking his finger into a hole in the Mosque. It has the reputation of curing you of your ailments if it was moist.
(2) This is Chris at the Grand Bazzar trying out his new Hockey Helmut

(3) The boys behind bars.

(4) One of the largest and perhaps most beautiful Mosque's in the world, Sultan Ahmet Mosque
(5) Fish for sale along the bridge. (Who knows what chemicals they contain from the water)
(6) Chris buying spices and Turkish Delight at the Spice Bazzar
(7) Spices at the Spice Bazzar
(8) Team sporting the latest "Evil Eye" glasses. Used to keep away evil thoughts.

A little monkey business in Gibralter

2007-12-05T08:25:00.000-08:00

Heading down the coast to Mallaga would bring us within striking distance of Gibralter. Having heard so much about the infamous rock, we couldn’t resist a visit. A couple of hours and we were crossing the border into a tiny piece of British territory. Marks and Spencer, fish and chips, and Pounds rather than Euros… all we were missing was the queen.

We took the cable car to the top of the rock to admire the views and hoping to catch a glimpse of the Barbary Macaques that live on the rock. It turns out these tail-less monkeys are not so elusive after all. In fact we had a couple of “close” encounters with them. One ended up with me dragging a particularly large male down the street as he tried to pry open my handbag. He managed to get in before I could break away. Fortunately he was more interested in my apple than my credit cards! In Adam’s case it was the pen that was clipped on his bag. He eventually got it back but not before the monkey scratched his bum with it.

There was one guy that we had pegged as a prime target from the moment he stepped off the gondola. His backpack was unzipped, plastic bags hanging out (the monkeys associated plastic bags with food and there are signs everywhere emphasizing this) and he reached over and tried to pat the first monkey he saw, a large male, on the head. Fortunately his foolishness made for great entertainment and we had the camera poised and ready. Check it out:

After we had our fill of the monkeys we watched a fabulous sunset and then hit one of the British pubs for fish n’ chips before crossing the border for our last night in Spain.

Hello Mudda , hello Fadda, life is bedda in Granada

2007-12-02T09:43:00.000-08:00

Not knowing what to expect of Granada, we picked up our friend Robert who flew over from Ibiza to meet us for the 200km drive to town.
Turns out that Granada is a fascinating crossroads of different cultures. Morroccan tea houses, Islamic bathhouses, Andalusian Flamenco houses, and Moorish Sultan houses (okay palaces) leave you wondering if you’re really still in Spain. The smorgasboard of sounds does little to answer the question, replying with the rhythm of bongo drums competing with the melodies of flamenco guitar against the background of church bells. Plazas filled with dancing gypsies and dreadlock clad bohemians contribute to the colourful nature of this town.
Eager to partake in the energy of the city we kicked off the night with some fabulous wine and “the best tapas in town”. We also discovered why so many students live in Granada, as long as you are drinking you will be fed, what student wouldn’t love that! The ordering process required shouting in Spanish over a crowd three deep and then elbowing your way to the bar to claim your plate of complimentary goodies before somebody else scooped it up. Normally we would’ve been a little intimidated at this prospect but we had a secret weapon – Robert! After our fill of food and wine, we moved onto a few other venues, finishing in the wee hours of the morning. Knowing that Robert lives in the party capital of the world and is far more accustomed to this lifestyle, we were proud to find that we were not the only ones hurting the next morning! Not that it stopped a repeat performance the next night that included some live Flamenco in a tiny smoke filled basement “cave”. We didn’t think human limbs could move that fast!
Of course we did some “official” sightseeing as well. Granada is home to the UNESCO world heritage site called “the Alhambra” former address of the Sultan of the Moors that settled here until Islam was pushed out by the Christians. The palace is sumptuously decorated in Oriental style with no shortage of intricate details and impressive water features. If that wasn’t enough, the Sultan also had an equally magnificent Summer palace a short walk away through the gorgeous gardens. All of this makes Charles V’s digs (built later on the site) look a little ordinary if you can believe it!
If you want to see more or even take a video tour check this out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra

All in all, this town of bongo playing, bohemian university students; ancient buildings; and Flamenco, was a fantastic stop and a great place to meet up with a (Spanish speaking) friend.
Robert, have a good winter in Chamonix and with some luck, we might just see you there for some skiing next year!

Orange ya excited to hear about Valencia?

2007-12-01T07:52:00.000-08:00

Ok so the headings just keep getting worse. But we just can't seem to stop ourselves!

With our Eurail pass set to expire, we rode a last train from Madrid to Valencia. With beautiful architecture and a slower pace than Madrid, Valencia provided a great backdrop for an evening stroll. We ended up finding a popular Basque-style tapas restaurant where we were happy to save ourselves from menu interpretation, and the staff from our Spanglish. Simply grab the tooth pick skewered food you want to dine on, keep the picks and present them at the end for your bill. Yum!

Absorbed in architecture and shopping, we didn’t hit the road until the afternoon of the following day. This meant arriving in Javea after dark for our much anticipated stay at our friend Johan’s house. With 3 bedrooms, a swimming pool, English TV, and laundry facilities to ourselves, it seemed like a sprawling palace after living in hotel rooms for the last few months. We joked that perhaps we should push the television into the bedroom and stay holed up in there for familiarity’s sake.

Javea is predominantly a sunny retreat for Brits that want to get away from the English weather, or are retired. So as if in England, we visited a local pub, (while “borrowing” some internet). The patrons seemed to enjoy a chat and we soon learnt much of local life and why this place was so popular. The woman running the bar, (having consumed her fair share of drinks) doesn’t bother keeping track of things, so when closing, everybody’s bar tab miraculously amounts to 12 euros’s!!?

We had hoped to stay for a week, but with our time in Spain running short, we cut our stay to only 3 days of luxury. We did however make excellent use of the laundry, the sun, and had a fantastic Thai dinner with Johan’s friends, Alan and Rosie.

Departing Javea, we turned on our laptop and GPS map software to get us to Alicante. This technology has saved us from many an argument as we navigate tiny un-named medieval streets, but this particular day it chose to take us to the highway via a rather bizarre route through a river, then along small roads weaving amongst the orange groves. After a little confusion, smiles from the local kids, and some good laughs, we were on our way.

Thanks Chandra, Johan, Alan and Rosie for setting this up. And we hope to see you all in Vancouver sometime!

Plane crash in Turkey

2007-11-30T00:28:00.000-08:00

We heard today that a plane crashed not far from where we are in Turkey. We just wanted to let everyone know that we are safe and sound.

Market Mayhem in Madrid

2007-11-29T09:17:00.000-08:00

In Madrid, all roads lead to the Plaza del Sol, discovering this early in our stay made navigating much easier! We had become accustomed to the late night rhythm of Spanish life, going out for dinner at around 10pm and not getting home until the early hours. Despite the chilly nights, we had beautiful crisp sunny days in which to explore the city. Good thing because most of our explorations were outdoors. Madrid has a ton of green space including a large urban park reminiscent of central park in NYC. Our hotel was sandwiched between the palatial gardens and botanical gardens, so we took advantage of this and managed to get out jogging a couple of times (gotta keep the tapas off the waistline). The chilly nights also forced us to do a little shopping since we not prepared for the almost zero temperatures.
We toured the royal palace with its resplendent throne, ballrooms and ancient Spanish apothecary, (the royal family moved out some years ago because they felt the palace was a little over the top). Our wanderings also led us to some fun dining experiences, and oddly enough, a girl living in a small plexiglass box on one of the busiest corners in the city. After some research it seemed the girl is a violinist who was to live in the box for a week and compose a piece to play upon her release. The box contained a small kitchen, a bed, and a bathroom that was even transparent from the knees down- poor girl!

We were lucky to be around for the Sunday market “El Rastro”, which translates literally into “the stain”. The market street used to be the bottom of a hill of butcher shops and the blood that ran down the streets made a stain. It stretches out for many blocks and is now the largest flea market in Europe with everything from gas masks to underwear! After the market, families pour into the surrounding bars to drink vermouth together. I’m sure it makes Sunday dinner a lot more interesting!

Oh, and Adam finally got out for a haircut (in case you hadn’t noticed in more recent pics he was starting to sport a bit of a 70’s do).

Adios Madrid, “all aboard” the train for Valencia.

Oh my Gaudi!

2007-11-22T10:41:00.000-08:00

You certainly don’t need to look very hard to find a good time in Barcelona, or in any Spanish city we were soon to discover. A quick flight from Rome and a smooth hotel check-in found us soaking up the nightlife within a couple of hours of arrival! The night started off with a great bottle of Spanish wine and some tasty tapas. A Spanish tradition, the word tapa means lid, this comes from medieval times when innkeepers would put a little snack (lid) on top of the glass of beer or wine that the horsemen would drink. This “lid” was dual purpose, it kept the bugs out of the drinks and kept the horsemen from getting too loaded before setting out to the next village.
Tapas come in a huge range but you can almost always count on jamon (ham), octopus, fried sardines, and patatas bravas (potatoes with spicy sauce) being on the roster for any given place.
Cave-dwelling, volcano climbing, and sheltering from the rain for the previous couple of weeks, we were overdue for a night out! So with our full bellies we set out on an exploration of the many great little watering-holes that pepper the center of town. We ended up meeting a couple of ex-pats from New Jersey and Coventry who ever so kindly gave us a ton of insider tips on Barcelona and even augmented our tourist map to include their favourites! It was most entertaining to hear their stories of adapting to the Spanish lifestyle. Diane and Sandra if you happen to read this thanks for the great company, tips, and for pouring us into a taxi at the end of the night!

Armed with our revamped tourist map and a hangover, we were off to see the sights the following day. This is where I will have to exercise some self control and not go into a huge blabbering speel about Gaudi… we had been warned by our newfound friends that Barcelona might find us “Gaudied out”. In short, Gaudi was one of the masterminds behind the birth of the moderniste style of architecture that is seen all over Barcelona. To enter one of his creations is like walking through a dream, a hybrid between organic, nature inspired forms and Alice in Wonderland zaniness but not as gaudy as it sounds (pardon the pun). Every detail was carefully created right down to the banisters and window and door hardware which are molded perfectly to the grip of a human hand. It really is genius and can only be seen to be believed. Hopefully some of the pictures will help. The last and largest of Gaudi’s works is the Sagrada Familia church, which is still under construction 80 years after his death. Look at the picture of the ceiling, which Gaudi modelled after a forest. It is amazing how the columns

resemble tree trunks and the skylights mimic the way the light shines through the forest canopy. BRILLIANT!! Check out the photo album if you want to see more pics. Despite the warnings we gorged ourselves on Gaudi and miraculously we didn’t end up “Gaudied out”! Just in case you want some more professional pictures and info:
http://www.greatbuildings.com/architects/Antonio_Gaudi.html

We also managed to fit in visits to the Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso exhibits and of course, no visit to a city is complete without a market excursion! Not surprisingly, in such an artistic city, even the produce market is gorgeous! Perfectly ripe fruit is carefully arranged in pyramids and there are fresh juices in a multitude of different combinations- also contributing to the flashy display. We quickly learned that when window shopping at the market it is best to steer clear of the butcher stands… too many heads, still attached to animals and sometimes just heads on their own.

The only thing I didn’t like about Barcelona? Leaving! Oh what a perfect ending that would’ve been, but it just jogged my memory… leaving and pickpockets!
We actually witnessed an attempted pickpocket. We didn’t understand what was happening when we got on the metro and there was an older man yelling at a younger man and holding on to him. When the doors closed we saw the man’s wallet on the floor, I grabbed it and returned it to him and then each of the men just retreated to opposite sides of the train and stood there in silence until the thief could get off at the next stop… no more yelling or abuse, they didn’t even look at each other!?
On another occasion on the metro, our suspicions were raised when three people unnecessarily crowded us when there was space elsewhere. We later read that this is a common tactic for thieves, but fortunately we had held on tight to our belongings and the group exited at the next stop empty handed.
An overall positive experience in Barcelona, in fact it is one of our favourite cities so far and we look forward to returning.

Rome If You Want To

2007-11-20T13:33:00.000-08:00

Rome, the bustling capital and our last destination in Italy. So what did we do in Rome? Well most of all we attempted to stay dry. It rained four of our five days, and at times pelting down so hard that it was beat through the fabric of our umbrellas. Consequently, we didn’t go out more than we needed; but during the dry periods we did get around to the mandatory sights.

Since we are a bit behind on our chronology, here is a snapshot of Rome:

The Colosseum was as you would expect, spectacular.

Hard to imagine the thousands that died for entertainment. We snapped this picture of a couple of gladiators in the subway on their way home from work.

The Roman Forum is much larger than we had imagined and much too large to explore in the short bursts of sunshine we received. But we tried.

The Pantheon exceeded expectations because frankly, we didn’t have any. This Roman temple turned Christian church is remarkably well preserved, at least on the inside.

The Vatican was a zoo. Every day thousands walk through these buildings and initially I didn’t know how they managed to get that many people through. Once we finally made it inside their method became obvious….. we were herded through the halls like cattle past artistic treasures. The “shush” police in the Sistine Chapel were particularly amusing as they attempted to stop the throngs of people from talking and snapping pictures.

We also managed a glimpse of the Pope-meister during a couple of public addresses.
St. Peter's Basicila is spectacular. No other way to describe it.

Of course if you want to know the detail behind any of these places, our intrepid travelling companion Lisa chronicled Rome far better than we ever could, and she had better weather to do it in when she passed through town a month earlier. Check it out at http://lisafukushimablog.blogspot.com/2007_09_16_archive.html

As a footnote, when we are sightseeing, we always work on the proven theory that if you need lunch, never eat near a monument; but Rome having so many tourists seeing so many sights, took this to a new level. It seems that no matter how hard we tried, or how far we walked from any monument, our lunches were fraught with bad food, bad service, or both.

Before we knew it, we were on our way to the airport and destined for Spain. Time to learn a new language and give up the pizza.

Rome sweet Rome!

2007-11-20T06:04:00.000-08:00

Setting out from Stromboli before sunrise, we had 26 hours of travel ahead of us before we would reach Rome. It was this day that my sinus cold chose to unleash it’s full wrath upon me. Deciding to play it safe we took the big, slooooowww ferry to Sicily where we would catch our overnight train to Rome. The big beast would be more reliable in the heavy seas but would take a lot longer than the hydrofoil (5 hours vs. one and a half).
Finally arriving in the Sicilian town of Messina, we had eight hours to kill before we boarded the train. Exploring the town laden with our packs was marginally less appealling than camping out in the diner of the train station (the headache and snotty nose tipped the scales in favor of the station). Besides, we had unlimited entertainment courtesy of the inebriated patrons from the nearby park wandering in to use the facilities.

Adam took on "mission impossible" by going on a search for sinus potion and Kleenex for me. Not an easy feat considering it was a Sunday evening (most places were closed) AND all medications are only sold through the pharmacies in Italy. Fortunately, my knight in shining armour returned with some good drugs (of the legal kind… or that’s what he told me anyway) and the only Kleenex he could find – a bulk pack of the little purse-sized packets! Ahhhh, blissful drug induced grogginess, clear sinuses, and an endless bounty of nice soft Kleenex…. suddenly the Autogrill was the happiest place on earth.

Finally at midnight we got to climb aboard our sleeper train and curl up in our cozy little bunkbeds. We stayed awake just long enough to watch our train being loaded onto the ferry to make the crossing to the mainland. Very cool system I must say! The lowest ferry deck has train tracks on it and the train is broken up into smaller pieces for loading, the engine is at the rear of the train and pushes each segment onto the vessel. The more ferries we travel, the worse BC Ferries starts to look… can you imagine them dealing with trains? They have a hard enough time loading automobiles and getting from A to B without crashing. We do still have Asia ahead of us though… opinions can change.

We had a good laugh at the marketing pamphlet for Trenitalia that we found in our cabin. We couldn't resist posting it.

Yes, the passengers are quite delighted to be stacked three high; yes, they hire conjoined-twins to efficiently cater to your every need; and yes, the man in the bottom bunk is watching little birdies fly around his head after the door was slammed into it. High density train travel IS wonderful! I especially got a kick out of the guy in the crisp, wrinkle free suit in the middle bunk.

Despite having a lot more space, we certainly didn't look as polished as he does when we arrived in Rome bright and early Monday morning; nevertheless, we were thrilled to have a "home" again! Once we got settled in, we took advantage of the fact that we were finally in a metropolitan city and went for the ultimate ANTI-pasta… Indian food!

Less travel, more Rome in the next post...stay tuned!

Holy Stromboli!

2007-11-10T15:53:00.000-08:00

We need not have bewildered over the schedules of the ferries that service Stromboli, for as we soon found out, Mother Nature decides when and if you will get there. The ferries do not adhere to the posted schedules, they simply seem to go when and if they are able. Despite the rough seas and the skepticism of one of the English speaking locals that we met at our transfer point, our hydrofoil successfully bumped it’s way along to Stromboli.

One of a smattering of small islands above the toe of the big boot Stromboli is home to an active volcano. We were first enticed by the idea of hiking up to the crater and camping overnight – an experience that we had read about in the Lonely Planet. As of 2004 when Stromboli let out a great big spew of lava, the government has decided to add volcanos onto it’s list of dangerous things, right underneath irons and toilets. This came in the form of tighter regulations regarding excursions to the crater such as limiting the number of visitors and duration of visits to the crater. This meant that not only would we be without an iron in Stromboli, but also we would not be camping out in the warmth of the lava flow. We did sign up for an excursion to the peak but there were not enough people signed up and the excursion was cancelled.
We decided to hike to the highest point that is permitted without a guide. Prior to our journey, Adam researched the injuries and deaths that have been attributed to Stromboli and reassured me that most of the injuries happen when people are running away from the explosions and falling debris (except for the guy that flung himself into the crater in a dramatic and successful suicide attempt- honest!)… I felt so much better knowing that my course of action should anything happen, would be to stand perfectly still and admire the wave of lava and hot rocks showering down around me. We hiked up to the observation level (about the equivalent of the Grouse Grind for you Vancouverites- only more rollercoaster up and downs). Although we could hear the explosions every 20 minutes or so, we could only see burps of steam in the sunlight. Once the sun had set, the sound effects were accompanied by visuals- clouds of pinkish red – gorgeous and definitely at a comfortable distance. Not only did we have a great display from the volcano but the moon was bright and full too.
We made our way down the mountain and warmed up and filled up in a little pizzeria at the base prior to embarking on the rest of the journey home.
As you would expect, the beaches of Stromboli are made of fine, black volcanic sand. The ultra blackness of the sand contrasts so sharply with all the other colours around it that even on a cloudy day the brightly coloured fishing boats, white vacation homes, and deep turquoise of the Mediterranean seemed superimposed. The ultimate find… the remains of some bizarre berry plant, all in monochromatic, fisher-price orange!

A wrinkle in time

2007-11-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

Astoundingly, we have managed thus far to escape any bugs, colds, or flues despite our exposure to public transport, grubby Italian bathrooms void of soap, and the occasional meal in establishments of questionable hygiene. The five trains, one ferry, 12 hours of travel, and chilly conditions however, proved to be the perfect storm needed to defeat my immune system. One of those five trains doled out the virus that would later bring my head to the brink of explosion… but you will hear plenty about that in later posts.
Our long journey finally found us in the seaside resort of Taormina.
After being cooped up on the train all day we were keen to get out into the air and get the blood circulating (plus we needed a drink). So we changed into some fresh but very wrinkly clothes and set out in search of “fresh air”.
Side note: We have discovered that the Italian authorities seem to be a little overprotective of the tourists… all hotel rooms (and public bathrooms) are equipped with panic strings that you pull in the event of an ablutionary emergency; but more annoyingly, it is “illegal” and “unsafe” to provide hotel guests with an in-room iron. As you will see in the video we did come up with a solution to disguise the wrinkles but beware this is a reality television show moment- you get to see how stupid we act sometimes. We did think twice about posting it but we figured a little self-humiliation was worth any amusement you may get out of it, so go ahead and have good laugh at our expense!

The next day we travelled up the cable car to explore the old city of Taormina. The major tourist attraction is the ancient Roman amphitheatre with it’s gorgeous view of the sea. The rest of the day was spent poking around the city. We finished off with a great dinner and made it an early night in preparation for another complex travel itinerary to Stromboli, the island of the volcano.

Troglodytes everywhere!

2007-11-07T00:21:00.000-08:00

Ok, so you know your ancestors lived in caves but do you know what their address was? By chance, we stumbled across a whole town that does!
Until the 1960’s, the population of Matera lived in limestone caves in the side of a ravine, (Don’t believe us? Google Matera Italy). We are not talking a dozen or so cave houses here…. a couple of thousand cave dwellings and churches make up an area known as “The Sassi”.
Sure there were improvements over the 9000 years of occupation; doors, paved streets, some dwellings even had electricity, but town was poverty stricken, absent of running water and sewers and riddled with Malaria... the shame of Italy. The shame that eventually sparked the forcible relocation of the entire town to a new development atop the ravine.
Almost forgotten for the next 20 years, this town is so old and so unique it has featured as backdrop for a number of movies, most recently Mel’s “Passion Of The Christ” which was filmed virtually entirely here.

Such a unique place does not go undiscovered by tourism for long, so now artisans, a few restaurants, and hotels are beginning to refurbish the caves and make them liveable again. The hotel that we were in was one of these, you will see pictures in the Matera album. One chilly day we set off from our cave hotel to discover what cave living was like in the 50’s and 60’s. It seems that by then the average number of people per dwelling was 2 parents and 3 children, (Matera had a 50% infant mortality rate!). Inside the typically 2 or 3 room cave, there would be a small room for cooking, a general living area for eating and sleeping, (open the draws in the bedside chest and turn them into beds for the kids) and the third area would house grains and the family donkey (chickens live under the bed). With half of the town untouched since the relocation, we had a great day exploring the caves, many still containing remnants of their final occupants. A short but fascinating visit into recent history.

Leaving Matera early in the morning as a cold snap hit, we sat on the train platform realizing that we had seriously underestimated the chilly Italian autumn. We sat with all our clothes on, huddled together in a miserable attempt at keeping warm. Finally the first of many trains arrived, and we began to thaw. Matera to Sicily took about 12 hours and 5 different trains… some with as little as 5 minutes to transfer between them. Strangely enough, the trains all ran like clockwork and we made it to Sicily without missing a single connection!

Picturesque Pompei and Noisy Naples

2007-11-01T02:37:00.000-07:00

We’ve all read stories of this Roman town buried by the eruption of Mt Vesuvius many centuries ago, but experiencing this excavated town makes me feel that Roman life was in many ways, not dissimilar to my life in Vanouver, (granted we have done away with slaves). Just like any other day, we started at the gym and then to the hot and cold baths for a relaxing soak. We strolled past numerous ancient “take out” restaurants, (This is me at my Pompei Pizza stand) then visited the bakery, checked out the vegetable market, made a quick visit to the law court, sat in the theatre and finished my day in one of the Brothels decorated with pictures of suggestive positions, (although the uncomfortable stone beds kept the visit short, it didn't deter me from trying to lure the camera woman in for a good time). All in all we walked this massive area for 6 hours and only managed 50% of a site the size of downtown Vancouver.

Next day was a different story.... Only 20 minutes by train and also in the shadow of Vesuvius, we made our way to Naples. The pace of this vibrant, noisy and gritty town resembles an older, poorer version of New York.

A morning wandering the museums conjured an appetite, and Naples being the home of Pizza, we figured we should research the best and most authentic Neapolitan Pizza available. Our quest took us past vendors pawning fake cameras and laptops, dodging cars that have no regard for rules, exploring back streets where we were eyed off by the mafia, down alley`s lined with vendors of large, complex and tacky nativity scenes, (mossy hillsides, minature buildings with motorized characters, running water and electric lights) and then, just as we were about to give up..... we found our destination, a tiny place on a back street where the buildings seem to be relying on a web of clothes lines to avoid collapse.

The pizza? Well frankly, it was not that great, but not to worry.... with another couple of weeks in Italy, and not much else on the menus, we had more than enough chances to find good pizza.

Congratulations Georg!!

2007-10-31T14:29:00.000-07:00

Georg correctly answered the question of the preceding post, thus proving that he is the only person actually reading what we write… just kidding.

Here is the original picture taken from our speeding car on the highway, (we were in the “slow” lane doing 140kph) when Jen snapped this picture showing the mountains of marble in the background and the mason wholesalers in the foreground handling massive blocks of the stone.

Doesn’t look like they are going to run out any time soon.