¿por qué no?

4 Days in Nicaragua



It was my birthday week and the last leg of Kenna's big trip so I spontaneously decided (four days before departure) to fly down to Managua. The plan was to do some diving off of Little Corn island but we had some truly horrendous weather that resulted in a lot of rum and board games. I realized Kenna was a kindred spirit when we both found "pundit" during a heated Boggle match. She got the plural, though - damn her.

The boat trip from Big to Little Corn was certainly the longest 8 miles I've ever traveled. You've perhaps seen the Hokusai Great Wave woodblock print? Or watched the epic Wolfgang Petersen film The Perfect Storm? That should give you the basic idea.

The non-digital waves must have been 10-12 feet high and our panga boat was only about 25 feet long and had no top of any kind. The Caribbean sea came right on in and we arrived on the island completely drenched.

We stayed in a clapboard shack right on the beach, which would have been lovely in hot and sunny weather but in 60 mph winds was a bit like sleeping inside a snare drum. All dive trips were canceled and even swimming seemed unwise because of the rough seas and the absence of a hot shower.

Still, no regrets. It was great to see Lady K -- we had lots of catching up to do.

It also whetted my appetite for future Latin American adventures. And more Flor de Caña rum. Yum.

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Back from the World

(Title courtesy of Josh Rosenfeld)

When I was a young lass, I would sit on the shore of Bellingham Bay and stare at the slate blue horizon line. I yearned to know about the mysterious places out there with exotic names like Fiji, Bali, Laos, Kashmir, Istanbul and Kathmandu.

I've been to all of those places now and it turns out that quitting my job and flying 28,000 miles in six and a half months was the very best way to regain the joie de vivre that's been notably absent for the past several years.

The trip made me hard in some ways and soft in others. I emerged from the Vipassana meditation retreat secure in the knowledge that I could take on just about anything but I almost cried when my beloved This Busy Monster t-shirt that I'd been wearing every night finally disintegrated.

As a wise subway-ticket case once said:

Thanks for tuning in to this little blog o' mine. I hope it inspired some of you to start planning a grand adventure of your own.

Here is a slideshow of my favorite photos from the trip.

Posh Lollies

When I learn to play the electric guitar, this will be the name of my band.

An anglophile's round the world trip wouldn't really be complete without a stop in the land of digestive bisquits, Mike Leigh films, pissing rain, and the best place names ever (the next stop is...Cockfosters).

My two weeks in England were spent largely on trains traveling between places that start with the letter "B". I was doing my best to avoid spending money on lodging so I camped out with a variety of generous hosts.

My friend Anne is living in a burb north of London called Bedford. I believe she refers to it as the Renton of England. I think that's a bit harsh - it was actually very pleasant. We took a day trip together to Cambridge and I was extremely dismayed to learn that not a single frame of my favorite film, Chariots of Fire, was actually filmed there. It's a beautiful town but the weather was crappy and many of the colleges were closed to visitors. Anne and her husband Den have been expats since September and they had some hilarious stories about the tribulations of getting a UK driving license. Speaking of which, I saw the amazing film Happy-Go-Lucky at the Odeon off of Picadilly Circus. Eddie Marsan does a powerhouse turn as a "few-twisties-short-of-a-full-packet" driving instructor. The theatre was virtually empty and when I asked my English friends about it, they told me that Mike Leigh movies just don't offer enough of an escape for them. Fair enough.

Sean was in town for a few days and we mainly sat around in his fancy hotel room watching Coronation Street or Wimbledon and eating Hobnobs. We also checked out the National Gallery (hello, Van Gogh) which was packed with adorable schoolchildren. The museum faces Nelson's Column and we had a bit of a chuckle about it. Later in the week we went to see a play called Harper Regan featuring Lesley Sharp from my other favorite film, Naked. She was great but the rest of it was pretty shoddy.

The lead singer/choreographer for my rock band will have to be Rebecca Smedley. She is a drop-dead gorgeous fellow Bellingham native who has the glorious blessing of dual citizenship (born in England, the brat). She was having a birthday while I was there so I zipped out to her flat in Buckinghamshire to celebrate. Good times at the Old Bell karaoke night. We also wandered around Camden Market together where I encouraged her to buy a smashing leather jacket. Favorite new British-ism: "Fannying about" = goofing off, wasting time.

I spent my last days in England with an old flame from my days at prestigious Hull University. He lives in Brighton now and drives an adorable red Fiat 500. I was pleased to learn that he still loves Roy Orbison, red sneakers, and cowboy culture. And also that he seems to have forgiven me, which I don't really deserve. We took a long walk by a windswept turquoise sea splashing against chalky white cliffs. I'm afraid I was terrible company because I could practically feel the cubicle walls closing in around me.

48 hours later, I was boarding the plane at Heathrow. And that was that.

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La Vacance

After months of traveling, I finally got to have a vacation. I knew from the first bite of foie gras that I was in for some serious hedonism. The noodles of Indonesia and the lentils of Nepal were just starter dishes - I was ready for the main course.

My dear friend Rachel greeted me warmly at the train station in Bordeaux and I was startled to discover that her baby boy now comes up to my elbows and speaks fluent French. Rachel and her husband Tim moved to France about five years ago and they were kind enough to let me take over the top floor of their amazingly huge and beautiful maison.

Bordeaux is a delightful smallish city where locals lounge in parks and smoke in outdoor cafes. The Bordelaise are consistently tardy yet quite stylish, sporting white linen, gold jewelry, and ballet flats. I felt terribly underdressed most of the time in my flip flops and curry-stained tunics. Every time I go to France, I indulge in one pair of new shoes and this time around I picked up a fabulous pair of dark grey 1950's-esque wedge sandals with little bows on the toes. Terribly cute and a much needed remedy to my frumpitude.

The transition from backpacker life to ordinary family life was surprisingly simple. I attended school functions and dinner parties, read the New Yorker on the couch, washed dishes, went grocery shopping, and played football in the backyard. Despite expectations to the contrary, I did not find this to be any sort of letdown after trekking in Kashmir and riding elephants in Laos. It's possible that I was influenced by the fantastic wine I was drinking but I think most of the credit goes to my hosts. They were incredibly generous and reminded me how important it is to nurture those rare friendships that predate Seinfeld and Doc Martens.

More Bordeaux photos

Tofurkey

Leaving Asia, Leaving My Girls
Why such a delay in posting this one? I blame the oysters, baguettes, ice cream, sheep cheese, candied figs, blood sausage, grilled zucchini, broccoli pasta, and ridiculously tasty wine of Bordeaux.

After a surreal 6 hours in downtown Vienna on a layover from Delhi, we flew into Istanbul. The city straddles the mighty Bosphorus with Asia on one side and Europe on the other. It was the perfect place to say a fond farewell to Asia since India was more of a "don't let the door hit you on the way out" situation.

We spent four days enjoying the charms of a truly first rate metropolis - the stunning beauty of the mosques, the vibrant grand bazaar, the fantastic meals, the echoes of the calls to prayer, the apple tea, and the sea views from our roof. Our hostel was in the touristy area of Sultanahmet and it was strange to suddenly be surrounded by loads of American and European travelers. They were all discussing their recent experiences in Greece, Spain, or Bulgaria and I felt quite wistful that my time in Europe would be so brief.

From Istanbul, we made our way down to the southern coastal town of Kas. It met all of the criteria for a Mediterranean paradise - pebbly beaches with turquoise water, ancient ruins, charming sun-dappled streets, and bright purple bougainvillea everywhere. We loved it immediately.


The beauty of the place was marred only by the fact that I was leaving the trio at the end of our time there. I remained stoically cheerful until moments before I boarded the bus out of town. When I realized I wouldn't be seeing Susan and Kenna for several months, I found myself shaking with small sobs. I'd become closer to them than anyone else in my life and we'd seen each other at our most fragile. I could not have asked for better travel companions - bon chance, ladies.

More Istanbul photos

More Southern Turkey photos

Northern India - Part 2

Goats n' Guns


"You look like Hillary Clinton," said the border guard as we crossed a mountain pass into Kashmir. I don't, do I?

After a grueling 14 hour drive through the area that Hillary's husband once deemed the most dangerous in world, we reached Pahalgam. I suspect that ponies outnumber people in this quaint little hamlet nestled in the Kashmir Valley. Despite the heavy presence of men with guns, the primary danger we faced was from the scorching sun, which turned my nose, toes, and fingers a deep crimson color.

We spent a blissful week there, the peace and beauty diminished only slightly by the poopy diapers attitude of the three brothers who controlled our program. When you're told "Bread is out of season now" or "I'm waiting for the internet man to call back," the best response is a grin and a side-to-side head bobble.

Not many western tourists venture up into Kashmir but it was definitely the highlight of my time in India. Just don't attempt the Srinagar airport unless you really enjoy a nice strip search.

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Northern India - Part 1

Hunks n' Monks


After the chaos and heat of Delhi and Agra, we headed for the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. McLeod Ganj (near Dharamsala) is the home of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. There were still garbage-eating cows and Indian tourists asking for photos but the similarities to the rest of the country ended there.

McLeod felt like home to us with mist, mountains, and the smell of tall trees. We arrived there after a pleasant overnight train ride and an unpleasant jeep ride up extremely twisty roads. As we were wandering around near the Dalai Lama's house (H.H. was not at home - probably off shmoozing with indie rockers), we met a very sweet Buddhist monk from Nepal who became our mascot/spiritual guide for the next couple of days. He accompanied us on a mellow hike up to a waterfall where a large posse of foxy Indian men were enjoying the cold water. There was a stark contrast between the earnest innocence of our monk friend and the raw sexuality of the young hunks. Later we sat around on the monk's mattress and he introduced us to some of the deeper truths of the Dhamma while his roommate fried us a delicious omelette.

The Ganj was definitely a backpacker scene, complete with a coffee shop/community center/music venue that was straight out of my counter-culture childhood. We decided to move on as quickly as possible. Our hotel was run by a fella from Kashmir with a grim scar on his neck. I never did discover the cause but I suspect it contributed to his apprehensive demeanor. He arranged a package for us (never again!) to his native land and we set off at 5 am the next morning.

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Indian Hospitality

Delhi is a fantastic place. It's immaculate and the temperature never gets above 65 degrees. No one smokes here and it smells like clean laundry. The people smile constantly and they cheerfully bring you anything you might need, at any time of the day or night. The internet is free and there's an endless supply of mashed potatoes and chocolate cake.

And when I say Delhi, I mean the lovely tourist hospital where I've spent the majority of my waking hours for the past 10 days.

Susan arrived from Kathmandu with a nasty wound on her leg which turned out to require an extended visit to the East West Medical Center in Greater Kailash I, a posh southern district.

Kenna and I pretended we were there to keep her company but it was much more about the A/C, HBO, and cute doctors.

The full story can be found on Susan's blog.

I always suspected she was a tough cookie but now I'm thoroughly convinced. She handled the pain, fear, and monotony with tremendous dignity and I'm very proud to be her friend.


On a happier note...

Susan is out of the hospital now and we're going to do the mandatory Taj Mahal day trip tomorrow. In a few more days, she'll get the stitches out and we'll head north to Himachal Pradesh. It should be much cooler there, praise Shiva.

I'm excited to be leaving Delhi but we have seen some beautiful places here. Most of the temples and monuments have been surprisingly free of western tourists. It's primarily Indian tourists from all across the country and they treated me and Kenna like movie stars, asking to have their photo taken with us.

More Delhi Photos

Spicy

Kenna met me in Lumbini after meditation boot camp was finished. "You seem really happy," she remarked. It was glorious to be back out in the world but I also felt nervous about our overland trip to Varanasi.

I had my final Nepali pee in a smelly box filled with flies. We crossed into the new country on foot and the differences invaded our senses - more smells, more trash, more touts, more color, more people, more hassles. Welcome to India.

We took a crowded public bus most of the way to Gorakhpur before being dumped unceremoniously on the side of the road with all our luggage. They loaded about twenty of us into an autorickshaw. My newfound equanimity was severely tested as I found myself wedged into a teeny seat with three bags on my lap and a small child between my knees. Kenna was only partially inside the vehicle and her right leg was nearly sheared off at one point by a passing truck.

Our first train ride of the trip was the eight hour Heat n' Dust Special to Varanasi. We had sleeper seats, which were roomy but very firm. The fella lounging on the seat across from us kept his predatory gaze fixed on us for the entire ride. I made a mental note to acquire a kaftan as soon as possible.

We stayed in India's holiest city for a week, despite 100+ degree temperatures and excrement of various origins on every surface. It was a fascinating place but the smell of urine, rotting garbage, and burning bodies was oppressive in the stifling air. Our guest house was directly next door to the Manikarnika "Burning" Ghat where most of the cremations take place so we definitely saw more than our share of dead bodies on their way to the pyre.

Ghat means "steps" and there are certainly plenty of 'em in Varanasi. Every trip to and from the guest house involved at least 400 of the knee-killers. The narrow back alleys of the old city are filled with cows, motorbikes, and young men offering to show you the way to their silk factory. One of these boys told me he loved me but when I told him I was 34, he faded back into the maze of chai shops.

Our secret to staying sane in the spicy atmosphere was the swimming pool at the Hotel Surya. We spent several blissful afternoons there, lounging in the shade of a canvas tent. Our friend Jim came with us one day and he couldn't believe we hadn't left the city limits. Jim's a guitar-playing bohemian from Austin and he introduced me to the magic of a 40 rupee Thali (all-you-can-eat lentils, veg curry, rice, and chapati). The food is generally mango-licious and ghee-tastic so I've gained about ten pounds on the Indian subcontinent. Thank goodness for kaftans.

More Varanasi Photos

Pray

The Longest 10 Days of My Life

Let's review:

4:00 am Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am Meditate in the hall
6:30-8:00 am Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am Group sitting in the hall
9:00-11:00 am Meditate in the hall
11:00-12:00 noon Lunch break
12 noon-1:00 pm Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm Meditate in the hall
2:30-3:30 pm Group sitting in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm Meditate in the hall
5:00-6:00 pm Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm Group sitting in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm Question time in the hall
9:30 pm Retire to your own room--Lights out

To be fair, I did see this schedule before I started the course. I just didn't do the math properly (never my strong suit). Ladies and gentlemen, that's 10 hours of meditation every day for 10 days = 100 hours of no moving, no scratching, no talking, no opening the eyes to peek at the clock. Hooray!

Vipassana (pronounced with a sshh, get it?) is a meditation technique that asks you to silently observe all sensations in your body, pleasant or unpleasant, without reacting. This equanimity will allow you to become free from cravings and aversions which are the cause of all misery. There's obviously more to it than that but I won't bore you with a long-winded lesson in the art of Buddhist living. If you're curious, you can check out www.dhamma.org.

My fellow students seemed to mostly be reiki masters, yoga instructors, astrologers, naturopaths, or some combination of all of those. They were kitted out in the standard issue hippie traveler garb of long flowing tunics and balloon pants. There were also several Nepali teenage girls who seemed to be there as punishment for riding on a scooter with the wrong type of boy (just like me!). These girls showed up for meditation in skinny jeans and they had a really hard time with the noble silence.

Speaking of which, the hush-hush bit was cake for me, which should come as no surprise to anyone. I loved communicating exclusively with eyes and smiles which you're technically not supposed to do either but I couldn't help it.

A word about the conditions at the Lumbini Dhamma Janani center: 98 degrees in the shade, cement bunk bed with a duvet for a mattress, a truly horrifying smell coming from the toilet, and giant insects everywhere. Remember that part in Eat, Pray, Love with the mosquitos? I reenacted it every evening.

It wasn't all torture, though. There is definitely a euphoric buzz when you emerge from a few hours of focusing all attention on the area between your nostrils and your upper lip. The senses are heightened to unprecedented levels which made meals, breezes from the ceiling fan, cold showers, and the smell of tiger balm seem like rare gifts from the Lord Buddha himself. In between sessions, we all either slept or sleep-walked around the place in a haze of endorphins. My roommate was a gecko named Genghis. I tried to get him to give up the secret of sitting in one place for hours at a time but he was also practicing noble silence. I forgave him because I think he was eating the skeeters in my bathroom.

I did almost abandon the path at one point when the A/V system started whining incessantly, the pain in my hips reached a fever pitch, and I felt like I was conducting a wild goose chase for inner peace. I'm happy that I stayed and I know that I'll be able to apply the technique of remaining even-tempered through great adversity, especially now that I've arrived in India.

It may be true that you can't achieve real peace, love, and harmony without great suffering and deprivation but I'm going to stick with yoga and chocolate for now.

Be happy.

More not-super-exciting photos

Hello, Mountains

It turns out that there are huge mountains in Nepal. Who knew?

We took a break from the incessant leisure of Pokhara with a mini-trek to the town of Sarangkot. "Town" might be a bit generous - it's really just a string of shops and guest houses clustered on the hill above Lake Fewa. Paragliders, terraced farms, and scars from multiple landslides zig zag down the steep slope.

We spent a jolly evening playing a prayer flag version of red rover with the local youngsters. Ashok (a 13-year old with flawless English and a natural gift for photography) joined us for dinner and became our adopted little brother and personal tour guide for the rest of our visit.

The beauty of the Anapurna range at sunrise was so overwhelming that I spent the rest of day incapacitated by fever and muscle weakness. Ginger tea with lemon plus 24 hours in bed listening to Ricky Gervais sorted me right out, though.

More Photos from Sarangkot

Load Shedding

In Nepal, the power shuts off at scheduled intervals and everyone breaks out candles or solar powered flashlights. The poetically bureaucratic name for this is "load shedding". It's the halfway point of my journey and things have started to go a bit pear-shaped so I'm letting this place teach me how to shed my load. As my condo in Seattle falls apart at the seams, bouts of tummy troubles set in, and the belongings in my bag become more and more shabby, my inclination is to retreat into meditation. I generally resist any sort of new age nonsense but it's just part of the buddhist-hindu-all love program. The plan is to start a 10-day Vipassana course on April 15th in Lumbini and I will be spending the interim trying to come up with a valid reason to back out of it.

I'm reminded of Seattle every day here since most of my fellow travelers look like they just stepped out of an REI store. I feel guilty about the fact that I don't truly enjoy trekking or camping and yet here I am, at the epicenter of all of that summit-seeking and treehugging.

I was quite excited to break out my long-neglected fleece jacket our first cold night in Kathmandu. I hunkered down under the duvet and tried to ignore the sound of rats scurrying in our walls. The sunny but still mild days were perfect for wandering the narrow and winding streets of Thamel, trying to avoid being mowed down by various modes of transit from rickshaws to giant Land Rovers. We met a sweet kid named Max from Salisbury and a brooding photographer named Viktor from Budapest. Both of them had lots of traveler wisdom to share. We also met up with Kenna's friend Beth, who lives in Nepal for part of the year. She's the real deal, giving herself entirely to the cause of improving the quality of life for Nepalese children.

In Pokhara, I'm settling into a mellow routine. The fact that my bathroom has the odd cockroach and a cold shower is bothersome but totally acceptable for $6 per night.* I've been helping out at a preschool, painting a hilarious acid trip mural in the traditional Nepalese colors. I also did the little pictures that accompany the English alphabet (Jug for J, Orange for O, Yak for Y, etc.)

Strong winds blow through town every afternoon, signaling the arrival of dramatic thunderstorms and pummeling rain. They amplify the tension in the air surrounding the upcoming Constituent Assembly elections. We can't get a consensus on whether or not there will be widespread violence relating to this historic event but it seems quite likely. There are a couple of UN election monitoring fellas staying at our hotel, which is both reassuring and not.

I had a traditional Salwar Kameez garment custom sewn for me (much giggling from the seamstress when my measurements were taken). It's a knee-length tunic with short sleeves and side slits up to the hips. MC Hammer-style pants are worn underneath and a shawl or scarf completes the look. I went to pick it up during an afternoon thunderstorm and there were no lights inside the tiny shop. I wriggled into the snug fitting top and modeled it for the shopkeeper and his wife. "Ah, very beautiful" and then after a bright flash of lightning, "The environment is taking your photo".

I love it here.

Pokhara Photos

Kathmandu Photos

* Side Note: If you're ever in Pokhara, I highly recommend a corner room at the Hotel Gorkha Li Dee. The staff is super nice and I'm sure they will have fixed the pest/water issues by then.

Nitrogen Shots

10 meters = 1 shot
20 meters = 2 shots
30 meters = 3 shots

I'm normally more of a watered-down vodka drink kinda girl but I do love the nitrogen narcosis. In case you're unmoved by being able to swim through underwater canyons and hover over anemones filled with clownfish, the happy gas in your body creates a mild giddiness similar to alcohol intoxication.

I recognize that a person in love can be extremely tedious so I won't say much more about the diving. But try it. You'll like it. I promise.


We headed out from Khao Lak to the Similan Islands on a liveaboard boat called the Amarpon. This is the most famous dive site in Thailand and it certainly lived up to its reputation. Although we didn't encounter any whale sharks or manta rays, we did see multitudes of moray eels, lionfish, and stingrays. The fan corals and underwater statues of the Chinese zodiac gave the place a distinctly Asian flavor.

The next stop in our Andaman adventure was Railay beach, a place where people get really baked and then free climb above shallow lagoons. Those people are not me - I just watched in mild horror from the safety of my sea kayak. We indulged in some serious beach time in preparation for our next few weeks (or months?) of crazy travel in Nepal and India.

The last night in southern Thailand was spent in Phuket Town, which is pretty great. It's just a regular Thai city with few tourists and lots of bedraggled sino-portuguese buildings. Most of my time was spent at the Thai Airways office getting my new routing to Kathmandu sorted out. Um, TOTAL nightmare. If you're considering a RTW ticket and you have any plans to change your plans, I strongly suggest using a travel agent. Altering a Star Alliance ticket is an extremely unpleasant business.

And speaking of unpleasant, I'm considering doing a 10-day Vipassana course in Nepal. Silent meditation beginning at 4:30 am. No talking. No touching. No slouching. No meat. No coffee.

So that should be pretty fun.

More Southern Thailand Photos

Mahout 101

Riding an elephant is like riding a very tall and hairy massage chair. The neck muscles (tendons?) of the mighty creature undulate beneath your bottom making it tricky to stay upright. There's no bridle of any kind so you just rest your hands on the head, which is covered in coarse hairs. The commands of "Pai! (Go)" or "Hau! (Stop)" are largely unnoticed when uttered by a novice girl Mahout from Bellingham. You place bent knees on the tops of the giant ears, which cover your legs and regularly flap to and fro. Deep breathing is not recommended because the potent odor is the secondary reason an elephant will never be considered stealthy.

Our time in Laos was too short and just involved a visit to the lovely town of Luang Prabang and a nearby elephant camp. No shortage of monks or hippie backpackers in LP in case anyone happens to be running low. The town has old colonial buildings and a temple down every side street. Wonderfully mellow vendors sell local crafts (mostly textiles) on cobbled roads decorated with little white lights. The power kept going out, contributing to the sleepy vibe of the place.

We did a cooking course through the Tamarind Cafe which included a trip to the local produce market. I've never been particularly squeamish about exotic foods but the baggies of bile, fly-ridden slabs of pig parts, and congealed blood made me eternally grateful for my local QFC. We prepared sticky rice, Lao-style salsa, fish steamed in banana leaves, lemongrass-wrapped fried chicken, and laap with buffalo meat. All the prep work was done with fingers, knives and a giant mortar and pestle. I somehow managed to survive the day with only a mild burn on my thumb from a ferociously hot tea glass.

It was seductively pleasant in Laos and I'd love to go back for an extended stay but the reefs of southern Thailand were shouting my name.

Lots More Photos

Get Yer Bayon

Sunrise
It was the beginning of the third month of our trip. We had heard that the sunrise at Angkor Wat was choked with people but decided to brave it. When we showed up at 6 am there were indeed a gazillion tourists lining every balustrade and the reflecting lake in front was particularly popular.

I briefly mingled with the hoi polloi and then decided to check out the inner courtyard area. Susan and Kenna were already back there and we had the entire place to ourselves. It was odd but I guess everyone just wants to get "the shot" of the sun coming up over the three towers.

After the sunrise, we ziggied over to Bayon temple in Angkor Thom. It's famous for the giant faces carved into its towers. Even though several fellow travelers had told us we'd be blown away by it, I was completely unprepared for the effect it had on me. I must have circled the upper terrace fifteen times just gaping up at the beatific profiles. I actually wept at one point when I peeked my head in a dark passageway and saw a small shrine with candles and golden sunlight shining through the ancient stone doorways. Incredible. Go there now before they turn it into a full blown amusement park.

Our next stop was a jungle temple about an hour from Siem Reap. I loved it almost as much as Bayon - remote, empty, charmingly decrepit and strangled with tree roots.

I was already well impressed with Cambodia but then we went to a very cool artisan center and the floating village, Ton Le Sap. There was an interesting contrast between these two major tourist attractions. The former is rather posh with well-scrubbed craftspeople making lacquer bowls and carving delicate wooden figurines. The latter is a dramatic illustration of survival in a tenuous environment. You drift by homes, schools, churches, and even a basketball court, peering with curiosity at the inhabitants of this very damp world.

Sunset
Fiji had nice beaches, New Zealand had dramatic scenery, Australia had the Great Barrier Reef, Indonesia had Mie Goreng, Singapore and Bangkok had great people watching but Cambodia was the highlight of my trip so far.

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The Pearls Ain't Free

And socks ain't cheap. It turns out that people in SE Asia generally prefer to go sockless. I spent a good portion of one of my three days in Bangkok searching in vain for a thin, moisture-wicking pair and finally ended up buying them at the airport on the way out of town (and almost left my passport at the counter - oops).

I also checked out some temples, ate some Tom Yum (because, YUM!), cruised the river, and inhaled several ounces of delicious smog.

We added an honorary ho to our crew: Lori, an old friend of Kenna's from Philly, met up with us at the airport. She recovered quickly from her long flight and we all tooled around the dazzling and smelly red light district near our hotel.

As luck would have it, my dad and stepmom were on the Bangkok segment of their West to East round the world journey so Susan and I met up with them at their fancy shmancy, peacock-infested hotel. We had a mellow afternoon by the pool avoiding the congestion and chaos of the city. I didn't feel guilty about it since February 29th is basically a bonus day.

I enjoyed Wat Phra Kaew (missed it last time around because of my poor sense of direction) but the emerald buddha was a letdown. He's tiny, like the Mona Lisa, and wearing a gold chain mail overcoat which hides most of his emerald-ness. It's only 95 degrees so I guess the little guy gets chilly.

Suksma for the Mie Goreng

Suksma = thank you in Bali. Mie Goreng is basically Top Ramen noodles in a savory sauce with veggies, chicken or seafood, and a fried egg on top. Best when served with a cold beer and prawn crackers. I had it every single day in Indonesia.

The monkey forest certainly lived up to its name. It was lousy with the little banana eaters.

We spent a few days in Ubud, of Eat, Pray, Love fame. Our first hotel was called Ketut's Place but the manager was a grumpy lady, not a wizened medicine man. It had lovely grounds but there was a huge swarm of bees right outside our door.

Most of our time was spent trudging up and down Monkey Forest road dodging the constant offers of transport and knick knacks. I tried to purchase a sarong but none of them were worth the precious space in my tiny suitcase. The ones I liked were deemed "mannish" by Kenna and Susan and the ones in the fabric I wanted were covered in geckos or hot pink hibiscus flowers. Yuck. Such are the tribulations of a full-time wanderer.

Despite our negative feelings towards "programs" (see Kenna's blog post re: Yoga and the terrible night in Senaru), we tried again with a Temples n' Rice Paddies driving tour up to Lovina. It was much better, despite the wet weather. I really enjoyed the Ulun Danu temple on the lake, especially the bit where I hung out and watched CSI with all the drivers.

Our last few days in Bali were spent at the beaches in Lovina and Sanur. Not much excitement there other than a cremation ceremony, some decent snorkeling, and a night spent pool sharking and quoting Streets lyrics after too many Bintangs.

While we were enjoying a sunset dip in our Lovina hotel pool, we met some nice Brits who gave us great travel tips for India. It was totally worth the seven mosquito bites. On my face.

More Indonesia Photos (New Ones at the Bottom)

Many Monkeys

10 Days in Indonesia

We haven't even been to the official sacred forest yet and we've already seen many monkeys. And they were quite cheeky.

It wasn't exactly planned this way but each new country has been progressively more spicy (with the food to match).

Fiji: Mild
New Zealand: Mild
Australia: Mild
Singapore: Mild
Indonesia: Medium

As soon as we got off the plane in Denpasar, we realized that things were going to be a little more hectic from this point forward. The path from the terminal to the exit was a gauntlet of cash only entry visas and offers of "hotel?" or "taksi?" Hello, developing nation.

After arriving at our Kuta hotel late in the evening, I headed straight for the pool and had a banana milkshake at the swim-up bar. It was the perfect antidote to the hostile sweaty mess of the airport.

We weren't keen to linger in Kuta (not much on offer besides fast food joints and a rubbish-laden beach) so we flew to Lombok the next day for a mere $38.00. This was more like it. Our taxi zoomed past rice paddies, old mosques, and not a single KFC. Our hotel, Puri Mas, was fabulous - certainly one of the nicest places we've stayed on the trip so far. The private bungalow was gorgeous, the food was fresh and fabulous, the service was incredible, and don't even get Susan started on the welcome drink. I broke my sunglasses and they actually went to the store to buy me some superglue. C'mon.


After a day spent exploring the Puri Mas Village (a sister resort to ours) and their assortment of exotic animals, we arranged a diving trip to the Gili islands. We set out early the next day with our cutie-pie guide named Win. The boat was no Ocean Quest and the gear was a bit funky but the diving was superb. We saw several reef sharks and two very large hawksbill turtles. It was our first experience with "drift diving" which is actually quite lovely once you accept the fact that you're not going to be able to linger with the cool lionfish that you've just spotted under a coral shelf. Just let him go - there will be others.


We spent a few very quiet nights on Gili Air, punctuated with a night spent watching the worst James Bond movie ever, License to Kill. I've always defended Timothy Dalton but it's over between us after that steaming pile of poo.

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Conspicuous Consumption

Three Days in Singapore

I had only a few preconceived notions of this place. Something vague about a night safari, a beautiful old colonial hotel, and a ban on Hubba Bubba.

It turns out that Singapore is basically a giant shopping mall with a staggering array of things to purchase, from Prada to $3.00 stretchy shorts. Each mall has at least one food court with all manner of delectable options. Starting with a Chinese-style hotel breakfast of fried rice, fried noodles, and salty dumplings and moving on to sushi, yellow curry, chili crab and gelato, I tucked in for the "eat" segment of my journey.

The tastiest meal was the one that we prepared with our new friends, Arnaud and Puy. We feasted on skewers of shrimp and veggies, Japanese pears with soft cheese and a whole chicken, feet included. After a few cooling laps in their enormous swimming pool, we played poker and drank until the wee hours - very expat chic.

The population of the city is about 70% Chinese and since it was their New Year during our visit, I almost felt like I was in Beijing. Red lanterns were strung up everywhere and stalls just outside our hotel were selling mandarin oranges, fireworks, and lotus blossoms.

There was a large signboard outside our hotel that listed the fortunes for each zodiac sign. Here's an excerpt from mine (Ox):
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Fortune for 2008 - Year of the Rat
Overall fortune is stable and thing is going up steadily. As long with proper plan and do not rush into it, any difficulty will come with a solution. But slightly poor in memory and mislay document easily. Therefore, always keep a look out on the important document and property. Or else loss for sure. (Not what you want to hear on a RTW trip!) Relations with people are extremely good and seize every opportunity with every contact. As every contact give you a chance to create miracle. Treasure it, what is called: good chances are hard to seek. Therefore, success or not it all depends on you.

Love
Rather smooth. Singles will have chance of meeting someone desirable. However, do not be recklessly involve in other love relationships because of good love luck. You must cherish yourself or else there will be adverse effects.
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Ah, so true.

And speaking of cherishing yourself, I did a bit of lingerie shopping in Singapore. Since I lost my beige brassiere somewhere in Australia, I hit the malls in search of a suitable replacement. I have exacting standards when it comes to underwear and Takashimaya did not let me down. After rigorous assistance from no fewer than four shop ladies, I found a beautiful "big girl" Wacoal bra with a sparkly little florette between the cups. It's important to treat yourself a bit after wearing the same outfit for five days in a row.

The rest of the time was spent wandering around the intriguing ethnic areas of little India and Arab Street. We visited the Sultan Mosque, which made for some fun photos of us in the very flattering robes they asked us to wear. It was interesting to observe the packs of young Chinese and Indian schoolchildren on a field trip to an Islamic house of worship. Apologies for the terrible metaphor (it's been a long hot day in Ubud) but Singapore was truly an all-you-can-eat buffet of Eastern cultures.

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Eat, Pray, SCUBA

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After years of merely fantasizing about it, I finally went ahead and got SCUBA certified. The opportunity to dive on the Great Barrier Reef was too incredible to pass up. Snorkel, schmorkel. It's so much more awesome down at 22 meters with the big fishies and the ability to sit cross-legged on the sandy bottom.

I felt the most nervous during the classroom sessions. There were vivid descriptions of the extra pressure on body cavities and the multiple ways to incur serious bodily harm. Also, there was a lot more math than I expected.

Once in the pool, though, my amphibiousness (amphibiosity?) took over and I was officially in love. I mean, breathing underwater? C'mon. It's an incredible feeling. I was worried that it would kill my ears because of past experiences diving down while snorkeling but the trick is to just pop them constantly as you descend.

We completed our training out on the reef which I'm guessing kicks the ass of certain freezing cold Puget Sounds I could mention. The visibility on our first dive was about 20 meters and the water was bathtub temperature. We wore wetsuits for the first few outings and then switched to some very Star Trek thin lycra stinger suits. I had some difficulty learning to achieve neutral buoyancy but once I got it, the elation really set in. I was flying amongst brightly colored fish, ornate coral, sharks (small ones, far away - as they should be), stingrays and nudibranchs. A side note about nudibranchs: they are hermaphrodites and to determine who will be the unlucky female/child-bearer, they duel with their penises. True. It is not true, however, that you should pee on a friend who has been stung by a jellyfish. Vinegar is the only way to go.

We did a night dive about eight hours after getting certified. I was certain there'd be packs of giant sharks circling overhead but no such luck. It was definitely spooky, though.

We're all very excited to continue diving throughout this amazing adventure. Egypt is supposed to be quite good.

Australia

Bloody great country. Not enough time here. Sad to be leaving today.

Highlights:

Melbourne

1. Medley Hall (our own rooms!)
2. Australia Day fireworks in Fed Square
3. Tsonga fans at the Australian Open
4. Shopping on Brunswick street
5. Mystery shipping container bar in a Chinatown laneway (very Blade Runner)

Sydney

1. The Opera House (obvious, I know)
2. Mingling with the locals at the Oaks bar and almost going swimming at 3 am
3. The coastal walk near Bondi beach
4. Flat whites and Tim Tams

Queensland

1. Getting scuba certified and then diving for 3 days straight on the Great Barrier Reef - are you kidding me?
2. Rainforests and deserted beaches (because of the crocodiles and jellyfish)

South Island, New Zealand

It was just so lovely. I think I'll let the photos do the talking.

Skydiving in Taupo

To get the full scoop on the skydiving, you should check out the blogs of Susan or Kenna.

But here are my photos from the big day.

Amphabulous Kaikoura

Kaikoura (South Island, New Zealand) is known as the maritime serengeti and we had one hell of a safari today. We woke up very early to swim with dusky dolphins, had a wee nap, and then back out to swim with fur seals. I'm really getting the hang of this snorkel and fin business. Quick tip: toothpaste in the mask.

We took a fast boat out to the edge of a very deep trench where a pod of about 400 dolphins were frolicking. The thing about dolphins in general and these in particular is they love to flaunt their mad skills. I watched with glee as they did crazy flips in the air and cruised along side our hull in little packs. That was cool on its own but then they let us actually jump in the water with them. True. It was a little scary at first being out in the open ocean with these largish wild animals swimming rapid circles around you. You're supposed to entertain them but I could tell they weren't that impressed with my "doo dee doo, doo dee doo" song. Several of them made eye contact and came close enough to touch - amazingly cool.

After a quick nap and our usual lunch of toasties (fried sandwich with egg and cheese in the middle - yum!), we wriggled back into wetsuits and headed back to the water. Our seal "enounter" involved a 10-minute walk over rocks and then a pretty hearty swim through a choppy inlet. There were many jellyfish and kelp forests along the way. We entered a protected cove, waiting for the waves to subside before sneaking through. The seals were hanging out on the rocks all around us and gradually they became curious enough to join us in the water. They get right up in your snorkel and check you out both above and below the water level. Freaking adorable but definitely stinkier than the dolphins.

In general, a pretty cracking day. If I wasn't before, I'm definitely amphibious now.

I'm exhausted and the room is rocking from side to side a bit with residual ocean motions. We're heading to the west coast tomorrow which is apparently rugged, glacial and mosquito-ridden. Hooray!