World Traveler and Thinker

Chirripo Sunrise

2012-02-12T10:17:00.000-06:00

At 5:30 in the morning I arrived at the Ranger Station with two French Canadians. A couple of people were already ahead of us and had been sleeping in their vehicle. A group of five Germans showed around 6 am and a single French woman a little later.

If you want the Climb Mt Chirripo, the highest mountain in Costa Rica, you have to have a permit. Only 40 are allotted each day. Thirty are for those who reserve well in advance while up to 10 are made available the day before. On Thursday there were seven available for the following day.

Well, my mini laptop is mysteriously working perfectly again so I’ve got some catching up to do with the Blog. I arrived in the vicinity of Chirripo National Park on Wednesday after taking a bus from Dominical to San Isidro de El General. From there I shared a taxi with two French Canadians to San Gerardo de Rivas. They had the same plan as me to climb Mt. Chirripo.

Mt Chirripo stands 12,532 feet in the center of Parque Nacioional Chirripo. There’s a very nice well maintained trail that starts a little below 5,000 feet and ascends well over 7,500 feet in 12 miles. It’s an honest hike. For someone who is really fit it can be done in a day but it would be a very long day with a lesser chance of catching a good view on top. The summit tends to be clear in the morning and cloudy in the afternoon.

The standard way of climbing the mountain is to hike 9 miles the first day ascending over 6,000 feet to a Refugio(hut) for a night. The following morning you get up around 3 am and hike to the summit for sunrise. From there most people descend back to the Refugio, pack their stuff, and head down. Others might stay another night and explore a variety of other trail options in the area. To stay overnight in the park you must have a permit.

When I first arrived in Gerardo de Riva the 2 French Canadians and I checked into a basic hotel run by Francisco Elizondo. Franciso just happens to be a local mountain running legend who doesn't waste his time walking up Chirripo. He runs it! He’s also a very friendly helpful host and makes an impression of being a very good man. Francisco not only offers basic accommodation but rents hiking equipment and operates a little restaurant with the hotel. He caters to the hiker. Especially those that come here to climb the peak. For $15 I have my own room with shared bathroom. Meals run around $6. Extras like a ride to the trailhead, baggage storage, etc. are included with the price of the room.

With a whole free day left after acquiring our permits the Canadians and I went on a short hike through some jungle up to a view and around a coffee plantation past banana trees. I spent the rest of my time organizing stuff and lounging on a rock next to a river.

On Friday morning Franciso gave us a ride up to the trailhead and we got to walking around 7:30. As expected, the path steeply ascended immediately. We hiked together for awhile before settling into our own paces. Each kilometer is marked along with a sign stating the elevation with some words of inspiration in English and Spanish to encourage one further and higher. No doubt about it. It’s a grind.

Somewhere around 10,000 feet things really change. Up to that point it’s thick forested jungle but as you round a ridge the environment appears oddly dry. It’s like hiking from a wet valley into a dry valley which is probably the case but naturally altitude has a lot of affect on what will or will not grow. From 10,000 feet on the environment and vegetation reminded me more of a something you might find in a semi desert mountain range. The trail became more rocky and dusty.

A little less than 6 ½ hours one of the Canadians and I reached the Refugio. I was ready to stop and was noticing some mild affects from the elevation. I was content with watching clouds and intermittent sun dance around mountain ridges for the rest of the day.

The Canadians and I were given a room with two bunk beds. The Refugio is a bit stark and utilitarian with no real character but it serves its purpose with a common area, clean drinking water, toilets, and cold showers. Nothing else is provided. One must bring their own food, sleeping bag, cooking stove, etc. We called it an early night and planned to get up at 3 am.

We awoke at 3 am and got started around 3:45. It was cold enough for a hat, gloves and light coat but not bad. We walked together for a little bit then I went ahead on my own. It was dark but with totally clear skies and bright moonlight I didn’t need my head lamp. It was beautiful night and perfect for ascending the summit.

Around 5:30am I reached the top. The Canadians and I were the last the leave the Refugio for sunrise and there were about 20 others on the summit when I arrived. Most were Germans while the rest appeared to be from Costa Rica. At 5:45 the Canadians topped out just in time for an orange ball of light to pop over the edge of a thin dark line marking the horizon. I was in no hurry to rush down.

A Note From Domincal

2012-02-07T16:08:00.000-06:00

I wasn´t sure if I was going to stop in Domincal or not but when I got off the bus and walked around the the corner, off a dusty mainstreet, to a view large waves coming in regualar sets, I thought it might be a good idea to kick back with an Imperial and watch the surfers.

Domincal is an dusty, edgy surf town where things haven´t changed much since American, European, and Australian surfers descended upon it years ago. Surfing is more or less my favorite armchair sport so the village kind of appeals to me. I checked into a nicer little more expensive place with my own bathroom and air conditioning for the night. Sometimes you just need a little bit of luxury. I stopped by the backpacker places first but non were too appealing. I then headed to a beachside restaurant bar for a large piece of fresh fish (Dorado) with rice, beans and cerveza.

The bar was full of people from somewhere else. Some arrived years ago while others just a few months ago. A super fit early middle aged bronzed surfer chick worked the bar and cranked ganster rap over a boom box. I don´t much care for ganster rap but with edgy surfers amidst swaying palm trees and dudes ripping the curl in the horizon, the music seemed appropriate. Una mas cerveza, por favor. For me its a one or two night town.

On another note my mini laptop is in on the skids and unless it mysteriously repairs itsfelf it´s No Funciona, Kaputz, Broke and Done Did. After bumping around the backpack through numerous countries I guess it´s time is up. The downside is that I´m not sure how convenient or inspiring blogging will be during the remainder of my trip. Cest la Vie.

My general plans for the next week are to climb Mt Chirripo, the highest mountain in Costa Rica, then trek around the Oso Peninsula.

Imperial Lifestyle - Pura Vida, Pura Cerveza!

2012-02-05T16:25:00.000-06:00

Sometimes Life Is Like a Beer Commercial......

Quepos - Sloth In a Tree

2012-02-05T16:20:00.000-06:00

This morning I awoke, went for a run, and pretty quickly decided to spend a day in Quepos writing and not doing much. By afternoon I hadn’t done too much writing as I tend to get sidetracked talking to other travelers. I’m quite social when I travel and can start up a conversation with just about anyone.

I wasn’t able to get my computer to work on the hostel wifi and was feeling pretty uninspired by the heat. Ceiling fans weren’t quite cutting it for me. I thought it would be a good idea to seek out a cold drink elsewhere. “Air Conditioned”, pasted to the window in orange sticker letters caught my attention at Wacky Wanda’s bar.
I stepped in and asked, “Tiene wifi?”. “Si”. I was then handed a code and ordered a beer. When my computer hooked right up I thanked the bar tender and he responded, “Pura Vida”!

From what I can tell more than a few Americans have opened up businesses in Quepos. Wacky Wanda’s is obviously American owned and I can pretty much decipher what the owner is like and where he’s from. Pictures of Ronald Reagan, George Bush, and Sarah Palin decorate the walls as well as numerous photos of gringo anglers with a sailfish or the like. Everything about the place is American Gulf Coast but all of the clientele is local. I’m the only gringo drinking here right now.

Quepos is a great place for the deep sea sport fishing enthusiast and I actually had a last minute opportunity to go on a charter this morning. I definitely would have gone but the cost would have been too high. Estimated cost with one other person would have been around $400 plus I’m sure I would have been expected to tip on top of that. The opportunity was too last minute. For me I want to meet the captain, see the boat, and check sea conditions before embarking on an all day excursion 50 miles away from shore. Also, there are good opportunities back home off the Texas Coast that if I ever get a burning desire.

In Quepos a group of 5 could probably get out for about $200 total each. Not a bad for a chance to catch somethun Big! However, no matter how you cut it, deep sea fishing is an expensive game no matter where you go.

Yesterday I hiked about Manuel Antonio National Park with Lara from Brooklyn who I met at the hostel. At first I was a little put off by the numbers of visitors but in reality it wasn’t too bad for a Saturday. The park consists of thick jungle set on a peninsula next to the ocean. It’s advisable to go with a guided group as the guides are incredibly skilled at spotting everything that blends right into the colors of the Jungle. They also carry a scope for their clients to view through.
At first I just wanted to walk and get away from the crowds so we passed on the guided option.

Probably the most interesting thing about the park is that it has a large population of Sloths. There are plenty to see but they really blend into the colors of tree bark so you have to look hard or hire a guide to look for you. Another technique is to look for other tourists who have spotted one. Lara and I saw a few as well as some monkeys. The best part of the park in my opinion is a hike up to a water fall. The trail is closed a short distance up but we chose not to see the yellow tape. Beyond the yellow tape there was no one but a monkey swinging on vines, a vulture eating a dead snake, and dear chewing on some leaves. The waterfall was nothing special but being surrounding by a quiet rich thick humid jungle was pretty cool.

The park area is quite small and aside of a wide guided tour group trail and a crowded day use beach the rest of the park sees a lot less traffic. If you’re into viewing Sloths and few monkeys it’s worth a visit otherwise there are plenty of other jungle options in Costa Rica.

Well, I know there’s an NRA (National Rifle Association) sticker in Wacky Wanda’s bar somewhere. I think I’ll go see if I can find it.

Note: See a sloth in the middle of the photo above. It looks like part of the tree.

Montezuma to Quepos

2012-02-05T15:19:00.000-06:00

February 2, Thursday

For day three in Montezuma I chose to step it down a bit and moved to a row of backpacker accommodations right on the beach. I exchanged my $32 hotel room with a roaring air conditioner for a $20 dollar room in a hostel with a fan, shared bath, and community kitchen. Ironically, I chose the place that smelled like insecticide a couple of days before.

On the morning I returned, the place smelled fresh and clean. It was much more appealing than my first impression. The manager asked if I would like the floors of my room cleaned as the German man who just left had been there for over a month. I said, “Sure, Fine”. All communication was done in Spanish.

I went back to the roaring air conditioner Hotel to grab my pack and returned the hostel to find a kind lady doing a dandy of a job cleaning the floors. An insecticide smell immediately caught my attention and about knocked me out. I noticed the cleaning solution being used was something contained in a recycled plastic water bottle. It looked totally unofficial and homemade. The cleaning lady appeared to be quite happy with her work. I thanked her and she responded with a big smile. I quickly dumped my pack and rushed out for a dose of fresh air. I wasn’t sure what the smell actually was but it reminded me of a peculiar order that I experienced in India where something was being used to prevent bed bugs.

After a long walk along the coast to a couple of beaches I returned to the room. Fortunately it didn’t smell near as intense and seemed to be dissipating nicely. I grabbed a couple of beers and retreated to a hammock on the beach.
The beach side hostel accommodations are some of the most desirable for those seeking a cheap place to stay. After a couple of days in Montezuma I decided that it wasn’t such a sketchy place after all, however, there is at least one village crazy along with some questionable characters scattered about. Yesterday morning the town crazy, looking rough, hobbled, and little beyond middle age, yelled across the beach for a Revolution but no one was taking him seriously. Pura Vida Amigo.

As I sunk into to a hammock with a couple of cans of Imperial Beer I observed those about me. Three locals sitting on a bench with a fishing pole took a break to smoke a handmade herbal cigarette. A mix of young Europeans and a few Costa Rican's lounged about. Some looked a little dodgy. A pleasant breeze blew across the water making a hot day feel serenely cool. I thought it might be a good idea to type on my mini laptop while swinging in a hammock with a beer but I was overtaken by complacency and distracted by a lovely woman in a red bikini.

Sun and Cerveza suggested it might be a good idea to get some some lunch. I thought another beer would be good and forgot to ask the price which gave the waiter an opportunity to over charge me 60 cents. It’s never the amount that bothers me but the principl irritates me. Nonetheless, I know better to always ask the price before buying anything. Anyway, I brushed it off and returned to the hostel. The town crazy was making himself comfortable in a one of the hammocks randomly blaring out lyrics to American classics in English, “You are so beautiful to me!”

February 3, Friday

The end of the road might seem like some a romantic sojourn into a blissful euphoric Samadhi or a little slice of heaven on earth. Perhaps it is for a moment, a day or for a segment of life but eventually the end of the road is just the end of the road.

One day in the beach hostel was enough. Although I had been told the nights had been very quiet it was not the case during my stay. All night long there was partying and loud talking on the beach. I’m not sure who was involved but everyone was speaking Spanish and sounded local. I’d had enough of Montezuma and made quick arrangements to hop a small boat off the beach in front of the Hostel to Jaco. From there I planned to catch a bus to Quepos to visit Manuel Antonio National Park to hike around and look at Monkeys and Sloths.

I was never really all that taken by Montezuma but it is an interesting little place worth a stop. For me it has an odd and strange vibe. One moment I’d kind of like it. The next moment I’d feel like leaving. If you’re a hippy that likes to smoke dope and just hang out you might want to stay for awhile, otherwise, two to four days is plenty in my opinion. The coastline is quite nice but the swimming isn’t that great. The water has a bit of an odd odor and sometimes rip currents can be an issue. If it weren’t for all of the Americans and Europeans there would be little to Montezuma aside of the natural beauty.

The trip to Quepos went super easy. A 9:30 boat got me to Jaco in about an hour and a half for $40. By doing so I avoided a long round about series of hot buses. In Jaco I found myself at a bus stop with about ten or so backpackers. The word was that no one really knew when exactly the bus was going to arrive and we would all be lucky to get a seat. One woman started bargaining with a mini van taxi driver across the street and arranged for him to take a bunch of us for the hour plus ride to Quepos at a rate of $8 each. The driver dropped us off at the main bus station and told me of a hostel just up the street.

The Wide Mouth Frog is a foreign run European style hostel that caters to American and European travelers. It’s built around a courtyard with a swimming pool, large common area, and communal kitchen. The architecture is consistent with the surrounding Latin American architecture but kept up to a little higher standard. For $30 I chose a single room with breakfast included and went for a swim. In the evening I kicked backed and chatted with a woman from Brooklyn. We planned to hike around the park together the next day.

As I’ve mentioned in past posts hostels are a great place to easily meet other travelers, pick up information, or find a travel partner for the next long bus ride etc.,. Hostels are not always he best option for the solo traveler seeking their own room but if you don’t mind dorms they’re hard to beat. Sometimes a hostel can feel like an insulated bubble of sorts. It’s nice to seek refuge from the stresses of a foreign culture within the confines of an enclosed courtyard and gated entrance where everyone speaks some degree of English but it can also make me feel like I’m missing out on a more authentic cultural experience. But then again. It's right outside the locked gate.

Montezuma Story

2012-02-01T18:23:00.001-06:00

Montezuma, Costa Rica is small funky end of the road kind of place full of Americans, Europeans and plenty of hippies. Backpackers can settle into a very basic seaside accommodation for $10 a night and spend their days in a daze along some gorgeous shoreline.

From Samara it’s a 4 or 5 hour trip by car or gringo tourist bus. Local buses would probably take all day. Lucky for me I was again able to hitch ride with the French family as we seem to be on the same program and were staying at the same place in Samara.

Upon arrival, aside of the shoreline, I wasn’t initially all that taken by Montezuma. The small village town felt busy, cramped, and hot. I sensed something sketchy about the community and didn’t like leaving our packs in the trunk of the car while we looked for a place to stay. Agate and I looked for cheap accommodations and the prices varied. I wasn’t too impressed by the cheapest options and nothing looked too appealing without spending a lot of money. Hot and tired we took a break for food and drink. Afterwards we looked some more.

There was one place on the beach that looked pretty good for $20 a night but I was turned off by a strong odor of what smelled like insecticide. Another $20 option was dark and insecure. A $10 place looked nice and quiet but I didn’t have a good feeling about it. After awhile I settled for a peculiar $32 hotel room with a roaring air conditioner but it’s clean, secure, and run by a friendly eccentric character named Carlos.

Feeling a little wired I headed to the beach for a swim, then a bar. I overheard one guy say, “I’ve been here two weeks and I’m just starting to feel like I don’t have to be doing something all the time”. I then struck up a conversation with a friendly young hippie couple from Northern California who live on a farm. I didn't ask them specifically what kind of farm. I told them I felt like there was something a little sketchy about Montezuma. The guy replied that he didn’t think it was sketchy. He thought it was edgy. After a couple of beers I tended to agree. A big friendly American man sat down to the right of me. For some reason my gaydar went off. Something about the guy’s quirky yet friendly demeanor made me a little uncomfortable. He works for an airline. I didn’t bother to ask him his position. To my left an interesting looking backpacker dude was getting friendly with a chubby tattooed woman. I asked where he was from. He said Whitehorse, Northwest Territories, Canada. Wow! I thought that was pretty cool. I asked him what he did up there and his reply was, "Recycling". I questioned how many people lived in Whitehorse. He replied, "26,000". “How many live in the Northwest Territories”? “36,000”. “Wow! Your keeping the Northwest Territories clean!” He responded with an enthusiastic high five. The Territories cover an area about the size of Texas. Back to my right the friendly guy left and I met a lonely woman from Hungary who was getting intimate with a cigarette and cocktail. We chatted a little but I left her for two slices of pizza that looked like they’d been out for awhile. After that I retreated to my hotel where I fell asleep to the sound of a roaring air conditioner.

Tamarindo to Samara

2012-01-30T21:11:00.001-06:00

I met up with the French family that I met the day before for a ride to Samara at 9am. There are a couple of different ways to get to Samara from Tamarindo. One is on main roads that are relatively easy to follow and the other is a shorter more scenic route along the coast. A local guy told us it was a two hour drive via the coast and that it was much more scenic. I envisioned us getting lost due to lack of signs and a sub-par map. I figured it would take most of the day if we took the coastal route but didn’t really care because I’d get to see that much more of Costa Rica. I thought there was a possibility of getting lucky and arriving within the 2 hour time frame but doubted it.

We headed south out of Tamarindo around 9:30 and seemed to be finding our way pretty well until we took our first wrong turn at the first village. No problem. It was a short detour so we just back tracked quickly. Jeffery was driving and Agate was navigating while 4 year old Tom was sleeping. I was just along for the ride. We stopped a couple of times to ask and make sure we were on the right road. No problema.

After a little while we came to a prominent well signed intersection and very properly took the wrong fork. The road narrowed but was still pretty good as we headed up into the hills. The way became steeper and the wheels spun out throwing gravel underneath the car as we dug in, backed up a little, and proceeded forward spinning out over the first pass. Down the other side across a creek then up and over another steep pass down to another creek and up another steep rise past a man on a horse where this time the car was not going to make it. The rest of us got out and Jeffery backed the car to get a running start and spun out up over the crest. I wasn’t sure we were going the right way. We seemed to be going away from the coast.

We asked the few we met where we where and how to get to Samara. Agate, with her French accent asked in broken English. I asked in Spanish but nothing was being understood by anyone very well. The only thing that was clear to me is that everyone we asked was giving us different information and suggesting different routes. We started down a suggested steep road but as it narrowed into a trough, with both sides closing in on the car doors, we decided it was best not to go further and backed out.

We tried another fork and met a drunk guy with a horse and what appeared to be family and friends hanging around a coral. In a very enthusiastic drunken animated fashion he waved his hands about describing the way signaling what believed was a turn right. But where exactly? We pressed on further. Wait, that right? Or, that left? That right didn’t look too good and the left looked ok. A little further on and we arrived in a tranquil little valley.

A very basic open air wood home with clothes hanging out to dry revealed a father and his daughter. We asked where we were but it really wasn’t clear. Apparently we were near some village that wasn’t on the map. He said it wasn’t good to go further and we all agreed it was probably best to backtrack. I remembered the prominent intersection a ways back so that was our goal.

So, we retraced our tracks up and over the passes through 4 or 5 creeks and eventually found the main intersection. It was well marked and well signed. We simply made a careless mistake. Cest la vie. About 5 ½ hours after leaving Tamarindo we arrived in Samara.

Samara is much more what I expected to see along the west coast of Costa Rica. Lots of Americans and Europeans, mixed with plenty of Costa Rican's running hotels, restaurants, surf schools, tours, etc. in a more basic somewhat rustic appealing fashion. Tamarindo is a little more upscale with night clubs and multilevel apartments laid out in a way that I find far less appealing that Samara.

The drive to Samara was a bit hot and tiring but it gave me a chance to see a bit of the real Costa Rica. So far I’d say people in the cities are doing ok but in the countryside there are definitely a lot of poor people. What I don’t see are people living in squalor. Costa Rica strikes me as one of those places I call middle world. Middle world is where you have lots of poor people but everyone seems to be eating, living with a roof over their head, and has some kind of chance to make a little money doing something.

Overall the country appears to be on an upward swing. For example, tap water is considered safe to drink throughout most all of the country. The availability of safe municipal drinking water is a nice indicator of where a country is headed. Aside of petty theft there really doesn’t seem to be much anything else to be too concerned with. The Costa Rican people are nice and friendly. The touts are non aggressive. A simple, “No Gracias”, and they’re off your back.

A couple of nights in Samara and I'll continue south.

Pura Vida Costa Rica = No Plans

2012-01-28T18:30:00.004-06:00

Friday, January 27

Thus far my Costa Rican excursion is sponsored by the letter E for Easy. After two nights in Liberia I caught a local bus for around $2.60 to the beach side tourist magnet of Tamarindo. The town packed with overpriced shops, restaurants, and hotels isn’t anything overly special in my opinion but it’s easy to get to. The real attraction is a very appealing long crescent shaped beach that’s allows for good swimming, surfing, and sunbathing.

While waiting for the local bus to Tamarindo I noticed very few Gringos (white foreigners). I did meet one British backpacker waiting for the bus to Nic-ar-ag-u-a that started in Panama City and is on an 8 week blitz through Central America in route to Mexico City via buses. I also met Greg from Canada who on a whim bought a last minute cheap ticket to Liberia for a two week break from short days and cold wet Vancouver winter weather.

Greg has backpacked around Southeast Asia so we swapped travel stories on the 2 ½ hour bus ride to Tamarindo. When we arrived in Playa Tamarindo I had no idea where I was going to stay. Greg was already booked into a place that had been recommended so I wandered around with him until we found his hotel. I figured there would be other cheap accommodations in the area. For the first night he was bumped up to a large bungalow type room with several beds. For a few extra bucks the manager said I could stay as well so I chipped in for a night and we shared the place. The rest of the day was spent beach side swimming and drinking beers.

The next morning, after a run on the beach, I set off to find my own accommodation as Greg was due to move into a smaller single. After a couple of hours of wandering around town investigating options I settled on a nice small clean family run hotel with an inviting atmosphere. Although my Spanish is very basic I was able to negotiate a $40 room down to $30 which is pretty good for a tourist town that’s got to be about as expensive as Costa Rica gets.

Greg and I hung out all day and did a nice job of doing pretty much nothing except beach side lounging, beer drinking, and swimming. I think it’s a really good idea to focus on feeling good about doing nothing sometimes. I know I can be pretty driven with work, assorted goals, etc, and temporarily lose myself within a narrow focus. I suppose it’s necessary to do that at times but while wrapped up in excessive busyness I often put off dealing with other issues of importance because my priorities are elsewhere. For anyone who’s frequently busy, doing nothing can allow for a chance to check in and reassess one’s life direction etc.

Saturday, January 28

By 9pm last night I was worn out from a day of sun, swimming, and drinking beer so I called it a day. My room, situated next to an open air hall and roadside restaurant is a little noisy but I had no problem falling asleep and slept well.

When I arose this morning I surrendered to the Costa Rica “Pura Vida” way after a morning run on some back roads. I allowed myself to be at a loss for any sensible reason to plan anything. I joined Canadians Mark and Lindsay for the complimentary hotel breakfast. We sat in a courtyard eating fruit and drinking coffee. I quizzed them on their current bike journey around Cost Rica and Nicaragua and chatted with Lindsay who bar tends in a small Canadian town somewhere near Montreal. This went on for awhile. I booked another night in the same room, glanced at my Lonely Planet Guide and thought it might be cool to go to further down the coast to Samara tomorrow. I didn’t give it much thought how I’d get there.

I departed from the grounds of my accommodation around noon. As if it were planned, which it certainly wasn’t, I met up with Greg just as he was exiting his hotel. We decided to walk over to a cheaper hotel that the Canadians were moving to. I was curious to see what a $25 room looked like in Tamarindo. We arrived, as if we had planned a time and specific location to meet, but hadn’t, and met right up with the Canadians. It was there that I was introduced to a nice French couple and their 4 year old who have a rental car and are head to Samara tomorrow. I asked if I could hitch a ride with them and they replied, “Sure”, in a, “Of Course”, kind of way. After visiting awhile Greg and I went on to a local Soda joint for a huge plate of food at the cost of 2,500 colones ($5) and returned to the hotel where the French and Canadians were residing.

As if planned, but of course it wasn’t, I joined the French and Canadians for an afternoon on the beach. The water is divine, the waves are clean, and the 90 degree sun is nonstop. For the evening I have no plans but I suspect I’ll round up a cheap dinner somewhere.....

Liberia, Costa Rica

2012-01-25T09:23:00.000-06:00

There’s two ways to get to the town of Liberia when you arrive at the airport 12 km away. One is the taxi at a rate of $20 USD. The other is the local bus for 420 colon which converts to 82 U.S. cents. Why was I the only gringo on the bus? Was I the only one on the airplane thinking like a backpacker?

The flight from Atlanta to Costa Rica felt more like a trip to Hawaii than Central America. The Boeing 757 was loaded with gringo tourists, from all over the USA, ready to take advantage of a robust tourism infrastructure. There are countless options for tours and activities which included everything from wild life sightseeing, surf camps, jungle trekking, yoga retreats, beaches, golf, etc. It all fuels a healthy economy that provides a good quality of life for the Costa Rican people that's far better than other nations within Central America. There’s nothing third world about this country judging by what I’ve seen thus far.

Upon arrival at the newly constructed airport customs and baggage claim were an absolute breeze. Liberia is an easy back door alternative compared to the bustling Capitol City of San Jose. When exiting the Liberia terminal I brushed off taxi drivers and found the only ATM located near the check in area. Right outside the arrival area is the taxi stand. On the other end, near the departure area is a bus stop. That’s where a few locals were waiting for the bus. I joined the locals.

Liberia is a busy small town built around Parque Central which is essentially a town square. The park itself is full of bright yellow painted benches. On the north side of the square is a large somewhat mid century modern looking cathedral that's painted white. The rest of the square is lined with shops, restaurants and a couple of bars. In the evening the square takes on a festive atmosphere as it’s a very popular place for local people to hang out in the evening.

I picked up a bottle of cold water and took a seat at on one of the benches in the park and consulted my Lost Planet Guide (Lonely Planet). Just off the square the book recommended a few cheap places. My general rule, when possible, is to look at 3 accommodation options before choosing. Prices varied from $10 to $20. I chose a simple room with a nice feel and quiet location for $15 or 7,500 colon. Several old 45 rpm records decorate the walls and there’s shared bathroom around the corner. No air con but a good fan. Even though it gets up to 90 during the day and the lows are around 70 there’s a nice wind that makes the air feel dry. Air conditioning really isn’t necessary.

By mid afternoon I was all situated so I just walked around town to get acclimated to the culture and surrounding. By evening I was feeling a little wired from the transition so I found a nice little restuarante with a breezy corner table and ordered a traditional dish while drinking a couple of local beers. The perfect way to settle back into a backpacker lifestyle.

Another Excursion

2012-01-19T18:09:00.000-06:00

Aside of a few cold mornings and a handful of cold days the Houston winter has been pretty normal, pleasant, and mild. There have been many daytime highs in the 70’s with some days pushing 80 compliments of a stiff wind from the south pumping up warm air off the Gulf of Mexico.

For me, I’ve been whizzing all over the place looking for cool old stuff as my interest in vinyl records continues to be on the rise. Houston is a fertile ground for blues and soul. Lots of rarities originate out of long forgotten studios scattered amidst the north and east sides of the city. However, rare is rare, therefore I spend most of my time sorting through literally thousands of pieces of worthless vinyl to find a coveted gem here and there. As of late I’ve had a little bit of luck which refuels motivation to keep doing what I do. Never really knowing what I’m going to find makes it a lot of fun.

All in all I’ve been excessively busy. More so than normal. Motivation has been high. My routine has been work, get in a run, and meet friends at least once or twice a week for beers. I’m the type that can go like a mad dog for a certain period of time until I wake up one day feeling overlay tired and back off for awhile. Lately I can feel a little bit of burnout coming on but I think I’ve timed it right. As I’ve said before, I try to fit a year’s worth of work into 6 months so I travel and kick around for the other 6 months. It’s now time for a kick around session. Next week I’ll catch an early flight out Houston which will get me into Costa Rica around lunch time.

The downside to being wrapped up in too much busyness is that I continue to put off pursuing other interests as I avoid making changes I’ve been intending to make for awhile. However, maybe that’s Ok. Often times when I simply leave myself alone and go easy on the self criticism, life flows easier. I’m a responsible and motivated person so naturally the nuts and bolts of everyday living are always in order but I get hung up from time to time on questions concerning my own potential and life’s true purpose. Perhaps these are riddles that everyone wrestles with and by doing so we try our best to make the right decisions with the cards we’re dealt.

For my next excursion I have absolutely no plans and no idea where I’ll be staying the day I arrive. I’ve never been to Costa Rica but I know they have lots of beaches, plenty of jungle, national parks and mountains. I’ll be there during the best time of year and will have a month to look around. My Spanish is good enough for comfort and the country is known to be a fairly easy and relaxing place to travel. The biggest complaint I’ve heard from other travelers is that there are too many people from the USA and it’s very expensive for Latin America. Right now Easy and Relaxing sound good so I think the “Pura Vida” of Costa Rica makes sense. If I start feeling more adventurous I could always venture over into other countries within Central America.

Coffee Shop Perspective - Then and Now

2012-01-08T18:19:00.001-06:00

When I moved to Boulder, Colorado in 1985 I found myself visiting a coffee shop for the first time. Not for the coffee but for the selection of odd and esoteric books available to read or purchase. The place was called the Brillig Works and was located on The Hill right next to the University of Colorado. For all I know it's still there.

As I recall the walls were lined with dark rough wood akin to the all natural rocky mountain hippy style of the time. Wood tables and comfy chairs allowed for quality lounging while sipping coffee with a granola muffin fresh baked on premises. People sat around and talked about intellectual yet far out subjects from a liberal perspective while others read books or wrote poetry with pen and paper. A cassette player provided tunes from a recent new age release picked up at “Trade a Tape” around the corner. I didn’t like coffee at the time so I ordered an herbal tea and flipped through the pages of a book about Astral Projection. There were no computers, no cell phones, and no Mp3’s. I don’t think "Internet" was a word yet.

In 1990 I experienced another coffee shop in Boulder known as Penny Lane. It was located right next to a Health Food restaurant attached to the running store I was working at. Penny Lane was a haven for lost souls and aspiring poets. The biggest draw aside of coffee was a good selection of single cigarettes. Most all of the patrons smoked so the place was always super smokey. Whenever the running store ran low on small change I would go to Penny Lane to make an exchange because they never had a shortage of small bills. The few minutes I spent there left me smelling like an ashtray for the rest of the day. Cell phones may have existed but no one had one. Computers were big and used at home by a few people for word processing and accounting. The internet was some kind of electronic organization and nobody really knew what is and most still hadn't even heard of it. A few people still believed poetry was a viable way to make a living. I think Penny Lane still exists but they may have moved to a different location.

20+ years later I find myself enjoying a Latte from time to time. I’m now a sometimes occasional regular at a local neighborhood coffee shop in Houston,Texas. What’s different these days is that everyone has their head stuck in a laptop. Myself included. Eyes shift between a smart phone for texting and a laptop with 5 pages opened. An i something pumps out weird tunes and nobody really talks until around 5 pm when the happy hour crowd arrives for beer or wine. Most all of your independent coffee shops serve alcohol now. I mean really, how does a business survive on just a $1.50 cup of Java? Plenty of people write on their computers but I don’t think many write anything poetic. It’s rare to see anyone reading a book and the only pen on premises is the one to sign your credit card receipt. A loose sheet of paper or spiral notebook with #2 pencil are a rarity if not obsolete. Plenty of people still smoke but no one would even think of doing it inside. A coffee shop without wifi is like a coffee shop without coffee. It just doesn’t exist.

2012

2012-01-03T18:27:00.000-06:00

Well, I coasted through the Holiday season smoothly. I flew up to Denver for a week to visit family over Christmas but other than that it’s been business as usual. I’m generally a little out of sorts over the holidays but start feeling like my old self after the New Year.

I can’t say I’ve really thought too much about the year ahead nor do I have any New Years resolutions. I don’t have any real plan but I do have some new intentions. So, I’ll see how that approach in attitude works.

I may not have any New Years resolutions but I do have some predictions. I don’t think anything is going to happen in relation to the Mayan calendar. I think the upcoming presidential election will be very close but Obama will win because the Republicans are going to sabotage their own party. I think there will be floods and disasters and everyone will blame it on global warming or an upcoming apocalypse. However, Today I think disasters are publicized on a much broader scale and people are simply more aware of things that have been happening for eons. Iraq will fall back into a political mess and the Middle East will continue to be a hub of instability. N. Korea will remain a huge mystery to the rest of the world. The Euro will hang on but the EU will change things up a bit. The dollar will remain weak but the U.S. economy will fare just fine. It’s amazing how much America still consume even in the worst of times. Bad in America isn’t bad compared to the rest of the world.

Predictions for myself? I think this year will be a period of reinvention and persona modification. There will be more travel with an increased focus towards right brain activity. More time will be spent contemplating the absurd coupled with dry humor and witty thought processes. Writing will become more regular. I’ll meet plenty of people and will make new friends. I’ll likely move on to a different home base arrangement and will start playing guitar at open mikes again. Something I haven’t done in years.

In the end 2012 will be another year. A year that will surely pass faster than the previous one. I’ll soak up every experience and be thankful for gift of every moment.

Busyness and Distraction - It's Entertaining

2011-12-15T20:19:00.001-06:00

As of late I’ve been feeling quite good rambling along a path of nuts and bolts but the practicality of reason has once again caste me under a spell of distraction in the form of busyness. Keenly focused and driven I proceed rapidly forward prioritizing the now in exchange for the later. Creativity takes a backseat as I reverse into an old familiar pattern. However, this time it feels a little different. Distraction is the culprit. I see it plain as white.

We live in a world full of distractions. Distraction seems to be a way of being nowadays with busy schedules, commercial clogged television, radio with more commercials, cell phones, and the Internet with a million and one ways to chew up time compliments of senseless viral videos. Not to mention, more commercials. In away it feels good to be distracted. It’s entertaining.

I don’t miss getting rid of the TV a year ago but I must admit I spend a little more time on the computer because of doing so. My work necessitates that I spend time on the internet but I frequently get off track as I check a news story or quickly look up the answer to a spontaneous question that pops up in my mind.

With technology exponentially speeding up our lives it’s a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I feel like it’s more of a curse. Although it’s easier to keep tabs on friends and acquaintances friendships tend to be more shallow. Everyone is spread so thin. For example, I have over 300 facebook friends but there’s only a few I’d say I really know. Out of those few there’s a much lesser number I’d say I actually communicate with on a semi regular basis about anything of real meaning.

Don’t get me wrong. I like the internet and have benefited greatly from it, however, I also think it’s changing how people relate and interact with one another. Social media is redefining what a friend is. Face time with verbal communication complemented by body language, facial expression and emotion just isn’t all that necessary anymore. If one is lucky enough they can jockey for a time slot in a friends busy schedule for a 30 minute coffee between appointments. If not this week, then the next. Everyone is so busy these days.

Social media seemingly makes the world a smaller place but it’s also a wonderful medium for misunderstanding and misinformation. What is meant to help bring the world closer together for the better is actually creating more serious extremes in my opinion but that’s another story. Just got distracted for a moment.

Technology with all its sleek and seductive appeal can open up more opportunities but it can also lead one further from who they really are. Distraction can be like a drug. It feels good not to feel when there’s something a person doesn’t want to feel. In an elusive way it can be allowed to define who or what an individual becomes. The Media moguls are wizards at defining what is in, hip, and cool. Under the right circumstances distraction is given an opportunity to define what we are.

So, what to do about distraction? Well, I guess it depends on the person but I’d say give yourself a moment without caffeine, alcohol, or and other kind of mind altering anything and spend a day or two with nothing as company. No plans, no schedules, no TV, no cell phone and no computer. I’d suggest going for a long walk. Don’t be enticed by Mr. Should. Under these circumstances most people won’t know what to do with themself and will feel kind of uncomfortable. After all, it’s really a waste of time? The individual will likely become distracted by the thought of what to do coupled with a wasting time feeling. Naturally they will revert to whoever they think they are or know they are. As I said before, distraction feels good. Might as well get busy again. Don’t want to waste any time.

i/itsec - Trade Show / Conference

2011-12-06T17:45:00.001-06:00

Autorama was over a week ago and with just one day off to wrap up loose ends I hopped a plane to Orlando, Florida to attend the cutting edge i/itsec conference to help a good friend with Air Medic Sky One. If you want to be on the inside and up to date with the latest in simulation technology i/itsec is a must. The conference’s main focus is on military training but civilian response departments in the arena of law enforcement, fire fighting and medical are also represented. I dusted off some clothes I hadn’t worn in a while and oiled up a rusty pitch for a 3 day step back into the professional world.

Before mastering my skills of traveling the planet on a low budget I spent two years in Boulder, Colorado fully immersed within a startup company. Wild Divine was/is a biofeedback product in a game like format developed by my best friend Corwin who I’ve known since college. During my time with Wild Divine I wore many hats that included sales/marketing, project development/management, trade show organization, and customer/tech support.

To make a long story short I learned an enormous amount working for Wild Divine but in the process became thoroughly burned out. As is the case for most startup's new management moves in, things change, and I was more or less pushed out while being too tired to fight it. I didn’t like the direction the company was headed and didn’t really fit in anyway. I left on civil terms and good references along with an in to promising job possibilities in the Bay Area. I wishfully hoped my stock options would pay off at some point and decided to leave the corporate environment indefinitely.

I left Colorado in October of 2004. At first I went to Texas for a couple of months then headed to the Caribbean for four months. I’ve been traveling off and on ever since. The persona of World Traveler and Thinker appealed to me so I’ve employed myself to live up to the title. Needless to say it’s been interesting and fun.

As I stepped into the i/itsec arena I was surprised how fast my experience with Wild Divine chimed in. As I walked about the trade floor I felt an ease in familiarity with understanding how a professional trade show/conference works. Talk when you know what you’re talking about and keep your mouth shut when you don’t. Ask questions, observe, and listen. Have fun in knowing that people are people regardless and an intelligent easy going personable manner will get you further than just about anything.

Most of the technology on display involves interactive computer graphics. Not long ago Corwin was commissioned to develop an interactive biofeedback game for a hospital in Holland that addresses doctor patient safety. Corwin was up for an award at i/itsec and invited me along as support. Although I was not fully up to speed with the new software I was project manager for the hardware while at Wild Divine. My name is included on the patent for the finger sensors.

Air Medic Sky One utilizes biofeedback hardware comprised of three finger sensors. Two sensors monitor galvanic skin response and one sensor monitors variable heart rate. With sensors attached to finger tips the data is read by a small box connected to a computer via USB. The data interacts with the software. The software provides real time feedback in the form of subject appropriate animated challenges. For example, relaxed breathing changes colors in a garden and energized breathing fills a syringe. In between biofeedback challenges there are more traditional question and answer exercises that help doctors make better decisions under times of pressure. The purpose of Air Medic Sky One is to improve a doctors decision making process while better understanding how to manage their own level of stress. The game accomplishes this by uniquely educating the player how the mind affects the body.

Kor from Holland flew in for the conference and three of us managed the small booth in the Serious Games section of iitsec. Although my pitch was rusty as I stumbled over words from time to time I really enjoyed the environment and felt quite at ease. My position was a little off to the side. After all I hadn’t worked on the project and clear marketing goals have not been established. Nonetheless, I hopped into the networking game and made new friends. With beer freely flowing around 4 pm from various booths amidst the trade floor I felt even more comfortable.

Numerous companies filled the convention center vying for government grants, private interests, and general attention from businesses in the trade. There was a wide variety of flight simulators on display and I had the opportunity to try a couple with a 180 degree view. One simulator mimicked G force for fighter pilot training. Some simulators utilized virtual reality eye wear for ground troop training. The most graphic training devices were real life manikins with serious injuries for medical training with life like organs that appear and feel real. One of the more interesting booths offered training on lightning quick medievac training. It was demonstrated by watching a reenactment of a suicide bomber in a tent. The display complete with noise, yelling, smoke and blood provided about as real a life simulation as you could expect.

At first I must admit I wasn’t sure how I felt about all of the military training content. Sometimes I think excessive preparation for war leads to war but on the other hand better trained troops hopefully lead to fewer casualties on both sides. Simulation is the safest training option.

During the Second evening at the conference I found myself at an upscale mixer with an open bar and people at the top of the trade. Corwin and Kor made some new contacts as I got to better know a couple of guys specializing in cyber security I met earlier in the day. It was quite a contrast from Autorama. It made me take pause and realize with the necessary drive and desire I could fall into a good opportunity within such an environment. Drive and desire are a key component for me because I’ve never been driven by power or money. I’ve got to like what I do.

At 1 pm on the last day of the conference we attended the awards ceremony for serious games. I wasn’t surprised when Corwin won First for Air Medic Sky One in the Business category. The final award was basically a best in show award. It was distributed to a competitor who had not won an award in the other categories. The presenter made it clear that Air Medic was as close a second as possible. In other words, it was like saying Air Medic was best in show but awards were not being duplicated. It was all done in good political fashion in my opinion.

Corwin is truly the most creative person I have ever known and he received numerous personal compliments from judges and i/itsec officials which were well deserved. That night we attended a Black Tie mixer and Banquet under dressed in a fashion only artist can get away with. The butter came in the form of a small duck with a fine aged steak and good cabernet.

In the end i/itsec was a wonderful diversion from the path I’ve been on. It’s caused me to ponder my position in the game of life. In some ways it showed me how far I’m living below my potential. In a time of so called economic woes I see boundless opportunity in a land of plenty. I guess it all depends on where you’re viewing the view from. As I tightly manage my nickels and dimes the trade off for me is that I’ve spent 6 months this year traveling around the world doing whatever I want to. That’s pretty damned good in my eyes. Still, there’s a longing to utilize my skills, knowledge, and life experience their full potential. On a scale of 1 to 10 I feel like I’ve settled on a 2 or 3. So, what am I going to do about it? We’ll see. You never know with me. Somehow, I think the best is yet to come.

Admiring Muscle Cars and Peddling Old Stuff - Autorama Houston

2011-12-06T15:09:00.000-06:00

While picking for antiques and collectibles I don’t accumulate as much odd and interesting miscellaneous as I use to. However, over the course of a year I do pick up a fair number of items that qualify as desirable to some degree. When enough excess stuff piles up I seek out a venue or avenue to sell and recoup some nickels and dimes with the prospect of making a little profit. Since I usually don’t have much money in what I’m selling I keep prices low and reel in ones and twos at a time. A dollar here and there over a day of selling adds up to more than a six pack and hamburger. In other words it’s worth my while.

Since my last post I rode upon the coat tails of a classic car show that hosts a swap meet for those who sell interesting old stuff like I do. I moved into the George Brown convention center on a Wednesday and creatively decorated a 10x20 space full of everything from old records to advertising to beer cans etc. etc. From Thursday to Sunday I peddled goods to gear heads and nostalgia lovers of all types with most items going for less than $5. Over the course of the event I got to know George Washington well. He made 12 concrete standing hours a day worthwhile and I left with a lot less stuff than I arrived with. Not to mention I had fun.

As a swap meet vendor I got in an hour early each day before the show opened. I cruised the floor each morning viewing as fine a collection of Muscle Cars one could ever imagine seeing. Shelby’s, Goats, Super Bee’s, and Mopar’s just to name a few. It’s Hemi heaven and rat rod bliss with afternoon burn sessions out back. Autorama is a choice no B.S. event which draws a nice crowd. That's why I like it.

Boring Is Not A Part Of My Life

2011-11-20T19:00:00.000-06:00

As of late I’ve been cruising briskly along a path in pursuit of nickels, dimes, and a smattering of dollars intermingled with a gem here and there. Such is the life of one who makes a living on their own peddling funky old stuff seen as antique or collectible.

In order to make it work I must make it happen. My sole motivator is me. My motivation is a certain kind of life experience ironically afforded by a so called bleak economy. From where I stand I still see all kinds of opportunity.

The political scene in the United States is a total mess but America is still a land of abundance. One of my favorite quotes from a rapper is, “If you’re not living the American dream, go out and get it. No one is going to give it to you”. If a person does nothing, nothing will happen. If a person does something, things will happen.

As of late my drive and energy have been high while I focus on replenishing fiscal reserves. However, creatively, I’m pretty much adrift in an old familiar vastness of someday and maybe this or that. In some regards focus comes easy. In other ways it’s fleeting and elusive.

Of course all work and no play make Jack irritable, frustrated and weird so I mix things up by dropping into a coffee shop, drinking a few beers, witnessing a joust to the death, or singing karaoke at a Texas Honky Tonk. Boring just isn’t a part of my life. If you ever see me in person and think I’m dull it’s probably because I’m preoccupied with a daydream or am in a temporary unsocial mood.

Well, the next two weeks are packed full of activity. When I’m consumed with my stance on home base the blog tends to take a backseat as I tend to this and that. After traveling through exotic lands everyday routine takes a little more effort to write about unless I creatively hone in on a story about a funny or peculiar happening in a timely fashion. My current intention is to post more often with a photo brief narrative. The more I write the easier it come. As with most things consistency is important.

The photo attached with this post was taken with a Vegan friend in a Texas Honky Tonk. The ceiling is covered with deer antlers and the walls are full of stuffed dear heads, guns, a bear skin rug etc.

Images Of West Texas

2011-11-07T18:03:00.000-06:00

Along The River - Boquillas

2011-11-07T17:48:00.000-06:00

I’ve already been back in Houston for a week. The day after I got back I dived into work and haven’t really given myself a chance to come up for air until now. The West Texas detour was a good one and I got in a lot for the amount of time I was gone. Plenty of sightseeing, hiking, and exploring along the banks of the Rio Grande.

Crossing the Rio Grande back and forth outside of an official border crossing can mean up to a $5,000 dollar fine for a United States Citizen. For a Mexicans caught on the Texas side it's a free trip back across the border, however, the intricacies of laws change and rules are quite different for either side. In America you’re innocent until proven guilty. In Mexico it’s the other way around.

I spent an afternoon along the border near Boquillas. Boquillas is a small Mexican village just across the river. It’s very remote and all of the roads are dirt. It resembles something right out of an old time Western Movie. Use to you could cross the border via boat (or wade) to drink a semi cool beer while picking up a couple of souvenirs.

In the summer of 1984 a friend and I went to Boquillas. The river was low and we could have waded but struck up a deal with a local man and a boat to take us across. When we got to the other side he wanted to charge us double. We refused to pay double and paid him what we agreed originally. On the Mexican side it’s a short walk into the village or you can hire a donkey. Since we had a dispute about the boat we sure as heck were not going to hire a donkey so we walked. When we arrived in the village there were no other tourists. Locals peered around corners and doorways like it was High Noon. Actually, I think it was around noon. No one was friendly. We met one sketchy gringo who said he was from Oklahoma and started telling us stories I was pretty certain weren’t true. After one semi cool beer and feeling uneasy the whole time we boogied back to the boarder and quickly walked past the boat guys not wasting any time wading back to the U.S. side. Boquillas did not give me a good feeling on that particular day.

Since that time Boquillas became less and less popular as the National Park discouraged tourists from visiting the village. Eventually the Department of Homeland security closed the border all together. Today it’s an interesting situation. The locals of Boquillas are forbidden to cross but they really need the gringo tourist dollar. I mean, it’s so remote and you have to wonder what they do for a living?

With the big enchilada just a river crossing away the locals do what they can. They reel in the Yankee dollar by quickly sneaking across the river and setting up a display of souvenirs. Trinkets are laid out with a price list and honor jar. Stop at a nice view point, canyon, or hot springs in the area and you will see walking sticks, scorpions made out of stripped copper wire, and quartz crystals nicely merchandized upon a boulder. On the banks of the Mexican side of the Rio Grande you’ll see the shop keeper who is watching everything. Make a purchase by placing money in the jar. When you leave and the coast is clear the enterprising local quickly crosses the river by horse, grabs the money, and returns to the Mexican side.

One of the most creative money making schemes I witnessed was at the opening of Boquillas canyon. Right at the entrance there’s a wonderful echo. A singing man named Victor, with a full rich classic Mexican voice, sits upon a large rock mass. As you walk up to the canyon he belts out a tune. Victor sits on the Mexican side. Two tip jars sit on the American side.

By chance this happened to be the only place I actually saw a Mexican on the U.S. side. At the time he was drumming up business for Victor while selling small Road Runner birds made out of copper wire and plastic beads. I never caught his name but he must be the mayor of Boquillas or something. He informed me that the border would be opening up again next spring and invited me to visit his village for tacos and cerveza. He was very friendly and I got the impression that the local people want to make things right when things re-open. I left a nice tip in a jar and purchased a Road Runner.

It’s another world across the the river and I hope things work out ok for the people of Boquillas when the border re-opens. I imagine it will be fine to visit. It’s far away and isolated from the other border towns which have become too dangerous due to drug trafficking and cartels. I think the people of Boquillas are more interested in peddling tacos, cerveza, and souvenirs.

Road Trippin West Texas - Big Bend

2011-10-27T20:23:00.001-05:00

A straight shot down highway 54 through desert mountains and ranch country led me into the town of Van Horn and the intersection of interstate 10 which runs east/west from Florida to California. At Van Horn I jumped onto highway 90 and veered southwest while staring at a UFO for miles until I realized it was a blimp that's somehow used to detect drug smugglers and the like. From Marfa I got on highway 87 and headed south to the border of Mexico.

Just outside of Marfa there’s a Border Patrol check station. Heading south I was not required to stop but passed a bunch of hi tech equipment that appeared to be taking pictures of my car and license plate. Those heading north are stopped. As I proceeded on I saw very few cars.

Presidio is a border town in a very broad flat valley. I drove all the way to the border crossing then turned around and looped through town. Hot, dry, dusty and fairly depressed summed up my assessment of the place. It's what I expected but kind of interesting in its own way. The real reason for choosing the route was my desire to drive along the Rio Grande next to the border. I had been told that the road is so close that you can throw a rock into Mexico.

As I headed east along highway 170 things really started to get scenic as far as deserts are concerned. The road quickly leaves the flats of Presidio as it rolls towards the mountains and canyons of the Rio Grande. The highway itself is it excellent condition and most of the time you’re in Big Bend Ranch State Park so there are plenty of pull offs with some having interpretive information signs.

Along the way I stopped numerous times for photos, passed several border patrol, and easily threw a rock into Mexico. At one particularly scenic spot there’s the remains of an old Movie set with adobe buildings and shoddily built chapel, It’s right on the banks of the Rio Grande and has been used for 9 different films. Occasionally I’d see another car or motorcycle but needless to say the road does not see much traffic.

At the small resort village of Lajitas I continued on to Terlingua. Terlingua is a mining town gone bust turned ghost town. In the 1970’s Terlingua was a real ghost town except for once a year when a bunch of drunken crazies would move in for a chili cookoff. Eventually a hippie, an artist, a survivalist, and a few who just wanted to get away from it all started making some of the old buildings livable again. In time a few bars, a couple of coffee shops and small quirky hotels opened up. It’s now kind of a funky sort of West Texas Key West with a small year round population consisting of an eclectic mix of characters. I think it would be an interesting place to sit and write a book or something. However, I also sense it would be very easy to find yourself falling into a pile of Lone Star Beer Cans and wondering where the last few years went. It’s that kind of place.

Past Terlingua I entered Big Bend National and head up into the Chisos Mountains where I’ve set up camp for a few days to hike and explore the area. Yesterday I climbed the highest mountain in the Chisos Mountains and hiked along the South Rim of the Range. Today I explored back roads and hiked a bit in the Santa Elena Canyon. The weather has been warm and wonderful with mild nights but a dry cold front blew in during the day which means colder nights but still clear and mild days. All said, the desert scenery of Big Bend National Park is absolutely beautiful and unique in its own way compared to other desert regions of the USA.

West Texas via Denver

2011-10-24T20:45:00.000-05:00

Sunday, October, 23

Two weeks ago I left Houston for Denver. I made the drive in a little over 16 hours. My fastest time yet for covering over a thousand miles in one push. I like to drive so time passes easily for me on the road.

I spent most of my time in Denver visiting my mother and doing misc. maintenance and painting around her home. The rest of my time was spent catching up with my sister, brother in law and nephew as well as a couple of friends. Time passed quickly but not before catching a Green Bay Packers game at the famous Rocky Flats Lounge and three rounds of bowling with my eleven year old nephew at the local neighborhood bowling alley. By the third game I bowled a 150. I felt pretty good about that considering I only bowl about once a year.

This morning I left Denver for a 10 hour drive due south to Guadalupe Mountains National Park where I’m camped for the night. As I left New Mexico I was reminded of the vastness of West Texas when I passed a sign warning 130 miles until next services. It’s wise to keep an eye on the gas gauge in this part of the country.

The campground at the National Park is pretty basic. It consists of walk in tent sites, one fairly large paved area for RV’s, and a restroom with no showers. It costs $8 for a tent site unless you’ve got a senior citizens pass, then it costs $4. Tonight I have a tent beneath a sky that’s surely full of billions of stars. On a clear dark night West Texas offers some of the best star gazing anywhere in the world. I guess that’s one of the benefits of being so far removed from services.

Guadalupe National Park, aside of a roadside view of the sheer cliff faced El Capitan, has little to offer the non hiker. It’s really a mountain desert hiking park. There’s a nice network of trials that weave throughout the arid mountains for a total of 80 miles. The two highlights are Guadalupe Peak, the highest mountain in Texas, and McKittrick canyon that proves to be a rare oddity with its strangely out of place Maple trees that bust out with color in the fall. Not many people know there are Maples in West Texas!

Tomorrow I plan to do an all day hike and stay for another night. From Guadalupe National Park I’ll continue south to Presidio on the Texas/Mexico border and traverse a road along the Rio Grande to Terlingua on the way to Big Bend National Park. It’s wild, rugged, dusty and remote yet beautiful desert country. It was once the stomping grounds for Apache Indians and Poncho Villa but now it’s more of running grounds for illicit drugs and illegal aliens. For this reason I have no intention whatsoever of crossing the border into Mexico or driving at night. Unfortunately, it simply isn’t safe anymore.

By time I'm done it will take about a week for me to get back to Houston. In a way it’s kind of like a readjustment excursion after my 5 month trip around the world. Whenever I return from long trip that involves a certain about of relatively exotic travel I'm certain to be somewhat changed. Hopefully for the better. After all of the foreign culture, different languages and multitudes of people I meet along the way it’s nice to retreat to a quieter more familiar environs. It gives me a chance to check in and realign myself with the ever constant process of personal growth and change.

Monday, October 24

As the retired Air force biker packed his Harley this morning he told me how he’s ridden in every state but Alaska and the road from Presidio to Bend Bend along the Texas/Mexican border is one of his top 5 favorite rides in the USA. I’ll definitely be headed there tomorrow.

Today my hike in the Guadalupe Mountains took me to the top of Hunter Peak and into an interior forested area known as the Bowl before heading down and out through a patch of colorful Maples in Bear Canyon. The hike took most of the day. With perfect sunny weather it did not disappoint. I took the photo atop the post this morning.

So, What Am I Doing? Ah, Good Question....

2011-10-09T20:01:00.000-05:00

For the first two weeks upon my return I sailed right into a highly motivated work mode and successfully avoided making any real decisions about anything important. I was riding a nice wave avoiding the reef of change until I washed up upon a beach of exhaustion. I guess you could call it delayed post travel fatigue. I’ve been kind of tired and mildly unmotivated this past week. I really should get a haircut.

I was surprised by the quick pace of my daily runs as I strode along the paths near White Oak and Buffalo Bayous when I first returned. I guess it was all the walking abroad coupled with a dose of coolly sustained mild adrenalin that tends to be a byproduct of travel. However, last weekend, as I felt my pace slowing, I paused to ask myself, “What are you doing?” I replied, “Trying to make some money man. It takes money to live”. “Yeah, I know that. But what are you doing?” I talk to myself often. By doing so I can better see through my own misc. this and that. When I talk out loud it’s easier to distinguish when I’m being sensible or not.

Over the past week I’ve been dealing with the avoided issues while charging way too much on the Tarjeta Credico. Insurance, new tires for the car, dentist, etc. etc. Everything is more expensive. People ask, “How can you afford to travel so long?” My reply, “How can you afford to live in one place so long?”... It’s far less expensive for me to live traveling abroad. Go figure. However, I’ve got to make money somewhere, sometime and the USA, despite economic crisis and so forth, is still the best place on the planet with the most opportunities to make money. The dollar may currently be weak on the exchange but it’s still the currency of choice.

As of now I’m taking a step aside and am about to embark on a road trip to Colorado to visit family and friends. From Colorado I’ll likely return home via a longer route that will take me through West Texas. Once back I’ll have a new plan. This time for sure. I’m definitely going to change things in my realm of life at home. Wherever it be. Right now I actually have an ideal situation for my carefree travel ways but I feel a real need to go about things differently. Actually, I’ve been feeling the need for awhile.

So now, what am I doing? Good Question....

Around The World - It's A Wrap

2011-09-20T18:32:00.006-05:00

Ireland was about as easy as it could get for an around the world journey. While traveling Ireland I kind of felt like I already had one foot back in the States. So many Irish have family in America and they love Americans. The majority of tourists in Ireland are from Germany and France. Speaking English made me feel even more connected to the Irish when a pub was filled with Europeans conversing in broken English as they struggled to understand a thick Irish accent. The icing on the cake was when I breezed through United States customs and immigration while still in the country at the Dublin Airport. Now that’s a first for me! Clearing U.S. Customs in a foreign country! Ireland is Easy with a capital E. If you have never been overseas or to Europe, start in Ireland.

I started my five month journey with a few days in Hong Kong. From there I spent 2 months in China with most of my time in the Yunnan and Szechuan provinces. Highlights of China included trekking in the Himalaya and spending time along the rarefied air of the China/Tibetan border. I capped off my time in China with a week and a half in Beijing which proved to be my favorite Chinese city.

From Beijing I hopped the Trans Mongolian railway to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia where I joined up with three other backpackers and we hired a local driver with a 4wd Russian made van for a tour of the wide open Mongolian Wilds. Unfortunately, due to Russian visa constraints, I had to leave Mongolia after just 2 ½ weeks and boarded a train for Russia and the Trans Siberian railway.

Russia was a pleasant surprise as I found, with just a little bit of effort, a seemingly hard and cold culture warmed up quickly with pleasant helpful smiles despite real language difficulties. Again, due to visa constraints I only had 2 ½ weeks to traverse the country by rail but made some great stops along the way. My favorite being Lake Baikal.

After visiting Lennon’s tomb and Red square in Moscow I hopped another train for Riga, Latvia which proved to be a lovely relaxing city with an over abundance of young 20 something women and young guys on the prowl from all over the world, every night. Riga made me laugh as the hostel was quiet every evening because most of the people staying at the hostel were young college aged men staying out until 7 am. I slept well as I’m not the type to pursue ladies all night who are young enough to be my daughter.

From Riga I traveled down to Lithuania and on to Warsaw, Poland. From Poland I blew across to Budapest then France. I kind of regret passing through Eastern Europe so fast. Eastern Europe is far more interesting than Western Europe and costs half as much than the West.

Once in France I took 3 weeks off from the traveling and planted myself next to small lake on the grounds of a Chateau near Mur de Solonge where I did a work exchange for the European Yoga Festival. The first week I really enjoyed but the last two weeks were a mixed bag. The highlight of my time spent in France was catching up with a good friend from Colorado who was attending the festival.

Leaving France was a bit of a low point for me as I was exhausted and plagued by three days of visual migraines which was quite unusual for me. The upside was that I was in the company of good friends from the festival as we made our way via Ferry to England.

In Britain I found my stride again, despite variable weather, as I walked for over 125 miles along the SW coast path of England. Miles of walking along with stops for pints at village pubs made me feel like my old self again. The walking left me feeling good.

From England I took a train to Wales and hopped a ferry to Cork, Ireland. From there I negotiated wacky weather up to a number of mountain tops including Carrauntuohil, Ireland's highest and Croagh Patrick where St. Patrick prayed for 40 days sometime during the 5th century. I hitched along the west coast in search of the perfect pint of Guinness which I naturally found in the East in Dublin when I poured it myself at the Guinness brewery.

I completed my travels with a rainy and at times VERY windy hike along the 80+ mile Wicklow way. It proved to be the perfect finish despite foul weather. It gave me time to mentally shift gears for home. The day before flying to the states I felt a satisfied “Done” kind of feeling. Just the kind of feeling you want for the flight home. I think I timed it right but once again I am astounded by how fast time passes. Five months felt like five weeks and at times, five days. All the more reasons to enjoy the gift of every moment.

So what did I learn? What are some takeaways? Well, here’s a few bullet points….

I really enjoy my own company and feel no need to rely on others for happiness. Expecting others to make you happy usually doesn’t work anyway…. Life is relatively easy as long as you don’t get in the way… Attitude creates your reality…. Money has a tendency to complicate life instead of making it easier…. Everybody in the world wants the same thing. To have a home, a job, to be with family, to be with friends and to feel safe…. Words get in the way of communication…. The universal language of kindness and peace is a smile…

Images From The Wicklow Way - Ireland

2011-09-12T05:22:00.001-05:00

I just finished walking the 80+ mile Wicklow Way that extends north to south across the Wicklow mountains south of of Dublin. It was a blustery hike with plenty of rain along with sunny spells every now and then. I think Ireland gets the award for having the most unstable and changable weather of any place I've ever been. Nonetheless, the country is so beautiful that there's beauty to be seen no matter what the weather is doing.

Despite plenty of bad weather the hike proved to be exactly what I needed to wrap up over 5 months of travel and mentally shift gears for the trip back home.

With so much cloudy weather it was hard to take good photos on the hike but here's a few to give you an idea of what the Wicklow Way has to offer.

A Few More Days - Another Walk - Then Home

2011-09-10T15:36:00.000-05:00

I should be home by now but when it came time for my predetermined flight time I just didn’t feel ready. You would think that after five months on the road I’d be more than ready but long term traveling has a way of becoming part of your identity. It becomes a way of life. I needed time to mentally shift gears and prepare myself for a transition back into a more conventional routine of work etc.

I called the airline and had no problem extending my time in abroad by six days in order to allow for one more excursion, a six day, eighty mile walk through the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland. I figured a good long walk would give me plenty of time to think of where I’ve been and where I want to go next. I needed to clear my mind and reset my focus.

My route of travel, since the last post, took me through Connemara and Westport where I hiked to the summit of Croagh Patrick. It’s the mountain where St. Patrick apparently prayed for 40 days sometime during the 5th century. It’s obviously a Pilgrimage mountain that draws a lot of visitors but there’s no way around a good stiff uphill hike if you want to visit the top. For an average person it take's 2 to 3 hours to gain the summit. On a clear day the views are spectacular. I hiked up in a foggy mist but played the waiting game atop and was luckily rewarded, after about half an hour, with the parting of cloud and blissfully blue sky. It lasted long enough to thoroughly take in the wonderful view.

From Westport I took a train to Dublin and checked into a cheap hostel with a good location and headed to the famed Temple bar area for a couple of pints. I then swung by a supermarket to pick up a few supplies for the Wicklow hike.

The Wicklow way is an establish way marked trail/route through the Wicklow mountains that begin just south of Dublin. It runs point to point, north/south, for a little over 80 miles. To begin the hike I simply walked to the bus stop directly in front of the hostel and rode #16 to Marley Park. From there I began hiking south.

The way is clearly marked with posts decorted by a yellow colored hiker silhouette and arrow. If you pay attention to the map and where you’re going the route is simple to follow. The way avoids towns but there’s an assortment of convenient accommodation options close to the trail or you camp.

As I write this post it’s my last night on the Wicklow way. I’m sharing a small bunkroom at a B&B with another hiker I met a couple of days ago from Belgium. Yesterday we camped in a farmer’s field while it rained all night long.

This morning we packed up a wet camp in rain and hiked on into the fog but by afternoon the skies became partly cloudy. That’s when the wind picked up. It only seemed fitting that we consume a pint at the small quaint 200+ year old Dying Cow pub before continuing a little further. Our end goal was a rural B&B that allowed camping. In exchange for a small fee there’s access to shower and cooking shelter.

There was no one at the simple B&B when we arrived but an older couple showed up and said their daughter owned the place. The wind was gaining force and camping was looking less and less appealing. The older couple let us in and fixed us a cup of tea while they tried to get their daughter on the phone. They didn’t want to let us go. In the end we settled on a wind free cozy bunkroom with a large full Irish Breakfast in the morning for 25 Euro each. The place is very quiet. The Belgian and I are the only ones here. It’s 9 pm and we still haven’t met the owner. I guess we will see her in the morning as she lives on property.

The walk along the Wicklow way has been quite lovely despite mostly rainy weather along with very strong winds on the higher ridges. Tomorrow I’ll finish it up and try to get back to Dublin by the evening. If not I’ll head to Dublin Monday morning and catch my flight home the following day. I’ll definitely be ready to go back to the States by then. All in all it's been exactly what I needed before going home.

Standing With A Sign At The Crossroads - Ireland

2011-09-04T15:23:00.000-05:00

I awoke in my tent next to a river just outside a hostel in Doolin and made an executive decision to catch the 11:45 bus to Galway instead of the 8:45. Not a bad plan but I was unaware that the tourist season in Ireland ended precisely on August 27. The 11:45 was no longer an option so I’d have to wait until 1:45. It was 10 am and I was ready to go.

I found an empty cereal box, tore it apart and barrowed a marker from the hostel. I then headed out to a crossroads with a sign saying “Galway” to see what would happen. There were four options for getting to Galway from Doolin. Three different roads and a boat via the Aran Islands. I really didn’t have much of plan except that I thought it would be a good idea to go to Galway.

I stood with sign held in hand as people passed me by. Most gave me an apologetic expression. One exceptionally apologetic looking passerby stopped a bit far ahead and rolled back in reverse. With a thick Polish accent he said, “I can give you a ride to the next village where you will get a ride no problem”. The next village was just a few miles away. I noticed his checkered chef pants and assumed he was a breakfast chef/cook for a local B&B. Sure enough he was.

I never caught the name of my new Polish friend but he was extremely helpful and friendly. Aside of a thick accent his English was quite good. When he immigrated to Ireland 8 years ago he couldn’t speak a word of English. All of his jobs were working whatever in kitchens where everyone else was polish. About two years ago he took a job at a Fish and chips stand where not a single person spoke Polish. He was forced to adapt and I can vouch that his English is now quite good. Like other Pols I’ve met he was very helpful, friendly, full of life and seemingly very happy to living and working in Ireland. He dropped me in the village of Lisdoonvarna and strongly recommended I come back in a week for the Match Making Festival.

I stood next to the road displaying my sign for Galway with a smile for nearly an hour. I was getting cold in the cloudy wind and needed a toilet so I walked a short distance into to town, found a restroom and checked on a backup plan, a bus schedule. I then returned to the road with my sign.

A friendly old farmer stopped and offered a ride a few miles down the road between towns but I turned it down thinking I could get stuck and might miss my backup plan. Not much longer another vehicle stopped.

The car that stopped was actually a small delivery van. He told me to throw my pack in the back. When I opened the back door I realized it was refrigerated and full of fresh goat cheese. Instead I threw my pack in the front and made enough room for comfort.

The delivery drivers name is Liam. He’s been delivering one of the few fine Goat Cheeses of Ireland for 3 years. He keeps his work interesting by picking up hitch hikers. Mainly foreign backpackers. Liam informed me that I was the first American backpacker he had ever met during his time delivering cheese.

Liam said he was passing through Galway and he could drop me right in the center. He then went on to tell me he had a long day and was going beyond Galway into Connemara. The roads he would be driving are no longer served by busses since it was past August 27 so I asked if I could continue further up along his route. “Absolutely”, he cheerfully replied.

So, all afternoon Liam and I talked about Ireland as he pointed out things along the way. We also talked about the economic crisis that is facing Ireland and he told me stories how people would go to the bank asking for 50,000 Euros. A usual response from the bank, with no hesitation, was that they would not loan them 50,000 but they could loan them 100,000. In other words the banks were making people barrow more than they wanted.

Before the delivery job Liam was making really good money in the construction trade doing tile work but he had enough horse sense to foresee the economic bubble about to burst. He started looking for something else and took his current job making considerably less money. His friends thought he was crazy. Six months later his friends were asking him if he knew they could find a job.

Up into Connemara we drove as Liam made stops at restaurants, delis, and shops along the way. He has his route down and is very efficient about it. Leenane was as far north as Liam was going and my “Lost Planet” guidebook said there was a hostel there. I got out and he handed me a big package of fresh garlic, honey, thyme goat cheese. I greatly thanked him as he quickly hopped back in his van and drove off.

There’s not much in Lenaane so I went to the store next to a pub and asked where the hostel was. The shop girl told me it was four miles back and a mile up a side road. It was 6 pm, raining, and kind of cold. I just figured I’d hang out at the shop and ask people for a ride. After standing there for a short while and asking a couple of folks the pub manager approached me and said, “Hostel? Ok, Come on”. I threw my pack in the back seat of his car and he drove me right to where I wanted to go.

The Sleepzone hostel is in the middle of nowhere Connemara. Aside of the fact that the area is absolutely beautiful it seemed like an odd location. The building is relatively newish, modern, and somewhat institutional. Kind of like a retreat center or something. All of the staff are French. Their eyes lit up when I walked in with Goat Cheese. The first thing they asked was if it was fresh. “Yep, made this morning”.

I put the cheese on a plate and broke out some bread I bought at the store next to the pub. The French were quite pleased with the cheese so a couple of them invited me to join them for dinner which was great because all I had was bread and goat cheese.

The hostel did not sell food but they did sell beer and wine. I got a Guinness and a lovely French woman got a bottle of wine. She was backpacking and hiking around Ireland by herself. That day she had packed a chicken from some village on the other side of some mountain along with some vegetables and lettuce for dinner.

Needless to say the dinner came out wonderfully. The French have a way with food. So there I was sitting and chatting with a somewhat young yet very attractive single backpacking hiking French lady after a day of easy travel and fresh goat cheese at a hostel in the middle of beautiful Connemara, Ireland. Just enjoying the conversation. “Oh, I see, you’re a firefighter. But your training to be a nurse, ohh, hmm, ahhh?” Then she tells me she’s Gay.

You never know where standing at a crossroads with a sign will lead you.

Ireland - Photos From My Walks

2011-08-31T14:27:00.006-05:00

Ireland - Relaxing Carefree Travel

2011-08-31T14:10:00.000-05:00

Ireland has got to be one of the easiest and most carefree places I’ve ever traveled. The people are nice, getting around is simple to figure out, and the countryside is lovely. It’s a very relaxing and low stress place to roam. The only thing I’ve been told to be wary of are late night drunks in Dublin. Well, that’s a common sense no brainer.

From Killarney I took a Bus to Dingle where I stayed three nights. While there I climbed yet another peak, Brandon Mountain, in mist, fog and rain, combined with a long bike ride around the sea cliffs of Slea head. The following day I hiked the hills and valleys around Connor pass under mostly sunny skies. The landscapes full of green intermingled with gray, red, and black stone while being bathed in the constantly changing light of variable clouds makes the Irish countryside very easy on the eyes.

I stayed at the “Hideout Hostel” in Dingle right across from the small village Movie Theater. My roommate was a mid 50’s Moroccan man who teaches economics in Paris. It's not often that I meet a Moroccan backpacker. His name is Elmostafa and we tossed back a couple of pints while talking about travel, politics, and the Moroccan desert. It’s not often that I get to engage in good conversation with backpackers from a Muslim culture. Elmostafa and I talked about cultural differences and how when you get right down to it everyone wants the same thing. To have a home, to feel safe with family and friends and to a have good job. To simply be happy. At the base level this is what anyone and everyone wants. No question about it. Unfortunately there are a small few who like to stir up a hornets’ nest into a furry of emotion and misunderstandings that lead to negative outcomes. Live and let live, do no harm. That’s my mind set. Go ahead and worship purple monkeys if you want to. I really don’t care as long as it's not causing harm to anyone else. Elmostafa proved to be a great roommate. He left with an invitation to visit him in Paris and to trek in the Morroccon desert.

After three nights at the hostel in Dingle I debated what to do next. I already had an idea of where I wanted to go but wasn’t too interested in paying 11 Euros for a short bus ride to Tralee. A young German woman by the name of Larissa was thinking the way I was so we decided to hitch hike to Tralee. We had both been hearing good reports of nothing but normal people happy to giving backpackers lifts. I very rarely if ever hitch hike anywhere because I usually don’t think it’s a good idea but in the rural areas of Ireland, where people are accustomed to tourism, it’s about as safe as it gets.

There are two ways out of Dingle to get to Tralee. We tried the busiest way first and gave up after 45 minutes. We then walked about 15 minutes to the other more scenic less traveled route and got a ride in 15 minutes. The couple that picked us up could have been our parents. They were retired farmers whose first language is Gaelic. Their English is spoken with a thick accent that was hard for Larissa to understand but understandable to me as long as I listened closely. Ireland has changed enormously over the last 30 years. From when everyone was emigrating to the UK or America. To the Big Boom. To now, the big Bust.

The old Ireland of traveling gypsies, struggling farmers, and plain poverty was left behind as the country was catapulted into the 21’st century via the same economic boom seen throughout the rest of Europe and the USA during the 1990's. The problem is that most of the boom was a product of greed, imagination, and hype drawn up on Power Point presentations, TV financial shows and printed media. On the way up Ireland saw more blue sky than it probably ever will again. With loose foreign trade regulations and banks loaning money to anyone with a pulse, the limit was beyond the sky. Abandoned cottages sold for hundreds of thousands of Euros and construction demands reached an all time high. Some got rich, some lost it all. Well, the sky did turn gray and the clouds were the limit. In the end Ireland is a very different country. In many ways for the better but in other ways? We'll see. Thanks to the European Union and robust tourism coupled with legitimate businesses Ireland will be fine but in the meantime many are staring down a bottomless pint of thousand if not millions of dollars of debt. Real estate values have fallen, on average, 50% from where they were at the height of the boom. Everyone and no one has the solution.

The downside to Ireland’s boom and bust is that it’s one of the most expensive places to travel in Europe. Everything got so grossly inflated. Fortunately, prices are on their way down as things naturally and slowly correct. For the backpacker traveler restaurants are very expensive and the price of take away food is barely acceptable so cook your own pasta meals at the hostel is the best option. Hostel dorm beds run between 14 to 18 Euros. Buses and trains range from very reasonable to expensive depending on route. Even with this approach, by the end of the day, I’m spending more money in Ireland than anywhere else I’ve been on this trip.

The nice couple that gave me and Larissa a ride to Tralee very conveniently dropped us off at the bus station where we got a bus to Tarbert. From there we took a ferry across a bay and hitched a ride with a local to Kilrush where we found a hostel for the night. Later that evening a couple with a car checked into the hostel and Larissa commented before meeting them, “Ahh, our new friends”.

Our new friends turned out to be a really nice German couple by the name of Rafael and Inga. We met them in a pub later that evening and hit it off with good conversation. Today they gave us a ride to Doolin as we passed through old fishing villages, visited a lighthouse, and miles of seal cliffs including the famous Cliffs of Moher. We found a hostel and I opted for a 9 Euro campsite in the side yard with full access to the facilities.

Tonight, like most nights, I’ll probably find myself in a local pub with a pint of Guinness and musicians playing traditional music. It only seems natural and fitting when your in Ireland. Yes, It is a very relaxing and carefree place to travel….

Mt Carountohil - A Hike Up Ireland's Highest Peak

2011-08-30T03:17:00.002-05:00

“I like what you did yesterday but today you need to get out and do something” said Martin the hostel manager with his thick Polish accent. The day before I did nothing but as I contemplated what to do Thursday morning Martin gave me his opinion like a coach. “Yes, of course, today I will bike and hike Mt, Carountohil, the highest mountain in Ireland”, said I. “Ok, let me get you a bike, time is not on your side, you need to get going!”, said Martin.

Actually, the timing was just right. It quit raining for the moment and when I’m motivated I can move pretty quick. My runs in France and the 8 days of walking along the English coast had whipped me back into shape. I quickly threw a day pack together and hopped on a bike for a ride that would take me an hour to get to the trailhead.

I didn’t have a map but I have a funny knack for visually remembering directions and prices of things. Go figure? I took a photo of a simple map at the hostel for backup and headed on my way. With no problem I found the trailhead and starting walking up an open valley full of green and cloud enshrouded mountains.

About 30 minutes into the hike I caught up with a Kiwi father and son bound for the peak as well. Kiwis are what you call people from New Zealand. Anyway, we got to talking and hiked together. Such is the way these things often work out.

The actual climb was pretty straight forward. Up the valley, up a steep gully with rocks and scree to a saddle/pass, then take a right following cairns (rock piles marking the route) and don’t get lost in the thick fog, mist, and rain. Staying on route in such conditions is best managed by going cairn to cairn because fog and cloud mist can be very disorienting. The hope in climibing during such conditions is at some point the clouds will briefly clear to allow for some kind of view.

The crux was a steep rocky scree gully known as the “Devils Staircase” with a stream running through it but relatively speaking the rock was quite stable and it really wasn’t too difficult to navigate. I kind of thought the wet red colored rock interspersed with green vegetation added to the atmosphere and beauty of it all.

In Ireland the weather changes every 15 minutes and the forecasts, from what I can tell, are pretty much useless. Since mountains tend to create their own weather regardless the general rule, in Ireland, is to just go and do whatever you want to do and be prepared for sun, wind, and rain.

Even in thick cloud mist it’s hard to miss the summit of Carountohil with its large iron cross and hand piled stone wall structure for wind protection. We caught up to a couple of other groups on top with everyone waiting it out a bit in hopes of the clouds opening up a little. A minute here and a minute there would revealed a view off to one side or the other but after awhile the cold wet wind started to get pretty uncomfortable so we headed down.

As we descended the cloud ceiling began to rise and we could see a nice grassy ridge opposite of the Devils Staircase. The ridge revealed a nice, yet little longer, high loop option that offered a very scenic and much more pleasant descent route. Absolutely beautiful. As the clouds stuck to the summit of Carountohil the surrounding area began to clear with spectacular views.

Back down in the valley it was a pleasant stroll to the trailhead parking lot where I took a cup at a local tea shop before heading back to Killarney on my bike. Despite vairiable weather it was a great introduction to the mountains of Ireland. I'm sure I'll find my way to the top of a few more before I leave the country.

It's Do Nothing Day In Killarney

2011-08-25T05:51:00.001-05:00

Over the past couple of days I’ve slipped into an indecisive funk coupled with indifference and disinterest. Ah yes, a bit of travel fatigue I’d say. The inner dialogue goes like something like this. “I’d like to do this but I want to do that but really I’m tired and want to rest. I need some sleep. Maybe I should just go home? No, I don’t want to go home. I want to keep going, and going, and going. Soo much to see and do. Ok, I’m going to do that. Wait, I changed my mind. No, I DO want to do that but what about? Ah, take a break, get a pint, and eat some lunch. Ok, Now I really ought to go there and do that because I only have so much time and I don’t want to waste any time doing nothing? Wow, this place is so cool and beautiful. I think I’ll go over there! But aren’t I kind of tired. I need some sleep. But no, go, go, go. Whoa, I am tired!”

I woke up little indecisive Monday morning but had the good sense to stay a day in Cork to visit an impressive cathedral, an old Prison and the town of Cobh where the Titanic made its last stop before heading across the Atlantic. On Tuesday I took a bus to Glengarriff with the intention of starting another long walk but changed my mind, checked into a hostel, and spent the day walking local trails. On Wednesday I awoke with the intentions of starting the long walk again but pouring rain made me take pause. Three super nice Germans from the hostel with a car offered me a ride to Killarney so I took it on a whim.

Killarney is a busy town that revolves around tourism and didn’t really attract me at first so I grabbed lunch and debated what to do next. I couldn’t really make a decision so I started to walk towards the bus station. I didn’t really think I wanted to stay in Killarney. On the way to the bus station I decided to take a quick look at a hostel that was supposed to be pretty cool.

I took a left at an intersection past a four star hotel and spotted the hostel sandwiched between the hotel and a pub advertising, “Drinking Consultants”. What really got my attention about the 250 year old building is the colorfully decorated green painted front with red trim, loads of flowers, and bicycle hanging from roof top left corner advertising rentals.

When I walked in I was enthusiastically greeted my Martin the hostel manager. Martin is from Poland and sports a Mohawk. He speaks fluid English with a thick Polish accent tainted with Irish wit. The narrow common area with stone walls, open fireplace, and thick tree slab tables creates an inviting atmosphere. The place is seething with character but more than anything it just feels good.

Martin showed me a room and it was equally inviting as the rest of the place so without much thought I checked into the 4 bed dorm. As I chatted with Martin I told him I was feeling kind of tired and have been on the road for a good while. Without even blinking he said, “You need to stay here two days and do nothing. I mean, do nothing. Just sleep, relax.”

When I awoke this morning I once again debated starting another long walk. Yes, I like to go on long walks, but with little thought I decided Martins advice was good advice so I checked in for another night and am doing nothing today. I’ll just hang out, catch up on the blog and fire off a few emails. Last night I slept really well. I have two roommates. One is a 30 something man from Ottawa, Canada and the other is a 30 something woman from Rome. We’re all solo travelers and seem to be on the same clock. Finding yourself in a place where you sleep well is almost reason enough to stay another night when you’re a long term traveler.

It's a do nothing day in Killarney

Ireland - A Hostel Story

2011-08-22T15:41:00.001-05:00

The Ferry was two hours late and it was a 30 minute bus ride from the ferry port to the city center of Cork. As I walked and rounded a corner I was nearly knocked over by the booming Reggae music pouring out of a bar. The bar just happened to be the ground floor of the hostel I was booked into. I entered and pushed my way through the crowds and signaled a very friendly woman working bar. She cheerfully checked me in and encouraged me not to worry about the loud music with heavy bass. It was supposed to stop at 11:30. Actually, the music was pretty good, but hey, this is Ireland, not a Caribbean cruise ship. I was tired.

I dumped my pack in the 4 bed dorm with a large window facing a busy street. Yes, it was loud but I surrendered to the circumstance. The room was clean and quite nice. From what I could tell there were only two other people staying in it. Aside of the noise it was fine.

With Reggae music and the median age of the crowd being something like 24 I felt kind of out of place and felt like I looked it to. No problem. The middle aged and over crowd was all gathered at the pub next door listening to traditional Irish Music. So, there I went and found a chair at the bar for a pint of Guinness and sat for about an hour.

At exactly 11:38 the reggae singer blared good night over the PA system and things quieted down considerably. After all, it was Sunday night. Around 11:45 my dorm mates showed up. They were two young and very considerate German women who had been a bit put off by the Reggae show as well. They had been traveling all over Ireland for awhile and quickly filled me in on where to go. By 12:30 or so I finally fell into bed but it was 1 am before the guys next door quieted down with their Pizza party. I slept well until the German girls got up at 6:30 am but they were quiet about their business. I dozed off again but was rudely awaken by the fire alarm at 7:30. Around 8:30 I got up and took advantage of free cornflakes and toast.

Hostels are hit and miss but with the right attitude they’re usually pretty good. Even with the noise issues of where I’m staying it’s still a good place. It’s very clean, the staff is friendly, and the location is great. Not to mention I’m paying about a 1/3 of what it would cost to have my own room at a guest house or B&B. I like to mix it up. A few hostels, a few nights camping, and a proper B&B here and there. After all, Ireland is not cheap but with the right approach costs can be kept within reason.

Ireland - A Story From The Ferry

2011-08-22T15:34:00.001-05:00

Everyone working on the boat is obviously Russian or from a former USSR state. The announcer over the intercom speaks good English but with a classic Moscow Russian accent. The attractive woman who just poured me a pint of Murphy’s stout would do better not to wear so much make up. Russian and Eastern European women have a true sense of fashion and style but sometimes it borders on tacky.

I was about to speak a couple of words of Russian to the bartender but asked where she was from before doing so. Her response? Latvia. Whew, good thing I didn’t say anything in Russian. Although Latvians know Russian they don’t like it. Speaking Russian to them can sometimes be downright offensive. Since the breakup of the USSR Latvians are more than proud to speak their own language as they uphold and revive their own cultural traditions while putting former Russian ties behind them. English is perfectly acceptable to a Latvian and if you go out of your way to learn a little of their own language it’s more than appreciated.

Well it’s been awhile since I passed through Latvia and Russia and I’ve covered a lot of ground since then. Right now I’m enjoying my pint of Murphy’s on a Ferry bound to Cork, Ireland. We left Swansea, Wales around 9:30 in the morning. The ship’s bar is nice and peaceful as there are only 155 people aboard a ship that normally carries 600 to 700 at a time. Sometimes you just get lucky and fall into what I refer to as a vacuum in between the crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It just happens. Even in the busiest of times and August is the busiest of times. The boat is cruising nicely to the West as it gently rocks back and forth for the full day ride.

I’ve been browsing the Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland and talked with tourist information aboard the ferry. The west coast is obviously where it’s at and Ireland offers a surprising amount of hiking possibilities. I ponder what I’ll do as I sip my Murphy’s stout and stare across the gently rolling ocean under clear sunny skies.

Photo: Lighthouse at the entrance to Cork Harbour, Ireland as seen from the ferry.

It Was A Nice Walk - Booking Ahead

2011-08-20T14:47:00.000-05:00

I left Exmouth under sunny skies in a cloud of indecision but moving forward nonetheless. In order to continue along the South West Coast Path I needed to get across a large bay formed by a river estuary. There’s a ferry and water taxi services so I just hopped the ferry. Once on the other side I continued walking. I needed a few more miles under my feet to feel out the next move.

The first seaside village I came to was Dwalish Warren. I stopped at a local bakery for two meat pastys and a flapjack. Meat pastys are basically a breaded turnover type pastry with meat, potatoes, and veggies inside. They can be a great bargain when it comes to eating cheap in England. Usually you can get a decent one for just a little over a pound. For 2 or 3 pound you can get a large one that can fill you up. It equates to a decent meal for around two to four US Dollars. A flapjack makes a nice desert. It's a traditional gooey oatmeal bar full of butter and sugar. With a full belly I pressed on.

After Dwalish Warren, I continued through Dwalish proper, and finished the day walking atop a long seawall into the surprisingly quiet beachside community of Tiegnmouth where I found myself in a state of decisiveness. I surmised that Tiegnmouth would be the perfect place to come back to if I chose to continue further along the South West Coast path sometime in the future. For now, I had already spent eight nice days covering over 100 miles of splendid coastal hiking so it made sense to leave it at that. After all, there are so many things I want to do and it was a very nice walk.

I executed my most current plan by visiting the Tiegenmouth village tourist information office. The very friendly attendant quickly set me up with a cheap B&B that just happened to be right next to the railway station. B&B's are still a great value in the UK. I never spend more than 30 pounds and you can usually find a nice one for around 25.

With accommodation for the night taken care of I headed to a pub for internet and got to booking. Trailine.com for discounted train ticket to Swansea, Wales, booked. Irish Ferries website for a ticket to Cork, Ireland out of on Swansea at 9 am on Sunday morning, booked. Hostels.com for accommodation in Cork. Hmm, that hostel looks ok. 4 bed dorm, booked.

Ireland it is! Hard to believe with all of the traveling I’ve done in the UK I’ve never been to Ireland. I don’t know why? There are many reasons to like Ireland. To name a few, well, there’s the Guinness, traditional Irish Music, and people who have the reputation for being exceedingly friendly along with a countryside that’s renowned for its beauty. The only downside is that everyone tells me how expensive it is. Hostel dorms seem reasonable but eating out is apparently very costly. All the more reason to stay at hostels. There’s almost always a community kitchen. I'll figure it all out when I get there.

While in Ireland I intend to have a good look around and might even do another week long walk. I’ll have at least two weeks to check out the country then I’ll either head home or extend my time a little to take advantage of a bonus side trip. We'll see.....

More Notes From The Coast - What Next?

2011-08-19T03:36:00.001-05:00

Monday, August 15

Along the east ridge of Portland Island past castle remains and the young offenders institution to the north end and a park where I watched a paraglider take off. Down into the village of Castleton for stop at a pub for wifi and a cup of coffee. Two very friendly older gentlemen were finishing off a mid morning pint and were happy to chat with an American backpacker who thinks their island is beautiful.

I pressed on across the causeway and at the far end stopped at the visitors center for water and a burger from a man with a snack wagon. Finding my stride again I continued along the coastal track with an old familiar feeling that comes from the thousands of miles I’ve walked over the years with everything I need on my back.

I’m a long way from China, Mongolia, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Yoga Festival of France. Although I’m still roughly 5,000 miles away from home I’ve already spent a fair bit of time in England, over the past few years, so it’s all very familiar and very comfortable to me.

After three days of wild camping I decided it was time to check into some kind of proper accommodation. The village of Abbotsbury seemed like the perfect place. It was roughly a 16 mile walk and since it’s a little bit inland and not a beach town I suspected it would be quieter. This along with today being a Monday made me think I could find something reasonably priced fairly easily.

It was almost like I knew exactly what to do without doing it. The village is about a half mile from the coast path with a number of ways to get to whatever the village has to offer. I instinctively knew where to take a left, right, left, and wound up at a nice pub with a guest house, however, a room at the guest house is 53 pounds. I inquired anyway. “I’ll take 40 pound for single”, responded the pub owner. “Hmm, that’s still a bit too much for me. I can pay 30 pound”. Quicker than expected the Pub owner responded, “Ok”. I was actually surprised it was that easy but 30 pound was really my top dollar. Also included was a full English breakfast in to get me off in the morning.

The Guest House? The room is fabulous. The Pub’s Steak and Kidney pie is divine and the real ale perfecto. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a room to myself in a month. Luxury is a sweet thing when you don’t have it all the time.

Thursday, August 18

Today I awoke to one of those classic filthy weather mornings. The wind was whipping around off the ocean and rain was falling in fits and spurts of light to moderate intensities. I took my time packing up a perfectly dry camp thanks to a Linhay on a parcel of National Trust Land overlooking the ocean.

A Linhay is a small basic farm shed like structure with stone walls, a slanted roof with a door one end. The once dilapidated building had just been restored as a historical remnant of a way of farming long gone from the area. With weather moving in and a good days hike done I accidently stumbled upon the structure while debating where I was going to camp for the night. Although it’s not intended to be a place for people to stay overnight it’s well suited for it.

Since National Trust Land is public land and the location was fairly removed and hidden I felt fine with staying there. The inside was big enough for me to pitch my tent so I did so without the rain fly to keep out any small critters that might be messing about during the night. Once situated I tuned in a British radio show spinning classic tunes and dozed off as the wind howled into the night.

As expected, I didn’t see anyone else while at the Linhay. Had anyone come around the worst thing that would have happened is that they would have asked me to move or leave. It really would not have been a big deal at all. The general rule with camping along all of the trails in the UK is to set up late, pack up early, and leave no trace. No problem.

Friday August 19

I reached Exmouth yesterday evening after seven days of walking. Just as planned. I checked into a cheap single room at a guest house for the night and visited a couple of local pubs before calling it a day.

This morning is absolutely beautiful and I’m debating what to do next. I just got finished taking advantage of the serve yourself kitchen full of breakfast food included with the 25 pound guest house tariff. Eggs, bacon, toast, cereal, tea, coffee, etc. etc. Help yourself. All you can eat.

So, this is the deal. I’m due to fly back to the states at the beginning of September from Ireland but my ticket is flexible with no change fee. From where I sit now it makes sense to boogie up to Wales and catch a ferry to Ireland, however, I’m inclined to continue along the coast path a few more days. To add to it all an opportunity to detour off to the mediteranian Island of Corsica at the end of August to hike the famed GR 20 has been presented to me. The GR 20 is very appealing but I have been on the road for quite some time now. Hmmm. Perhaps I should just stay on the Coast Path a little longer and see what a few more miles say.

Oh well, tough decisions. For the time being I think I’ll just get my stuff together this morning and see how I feel. I’ll let you know soon what I decide.

Mixed Images - The South West Coast Path - England

2011-08-18T16:02:00.004-05:00

Onto The Southwest Coast Path - England

2011-08-15T06:05:00.000-05:00

Friday, August 12

Today was a kind of a strange day. It started off with a plate full of baked beans on whole grain rye bread and a stack of fried eggs cooked up by Jerome as a going away feast. The feast was cut short when Jerome found out he had a Dr’s appointment in 10 minutes. After breakfast I headed to the train station.

It took three hours and three trains to get to Bournemouth. The last ride included an out of control 3 year old Russian boy doing as he pleased with an old newspaper while loudly vocalizing his enthusiasm. When I got off the train in Bournemouth I hopped double decker bus number fifty for a one hour ride to a ferry that I was sure was only 5 miles away? Along the circuitous everyone we picked up was well into their years. I felt like I was on a senior citizen bus tour or something.

At Sandbanks I got off the bus and took a short ferry ride to South Haven point. The start of the 630 mile South West Coast Path. After a couple of photos I trudged across a sandy tourist beach under windy and cool partly cloudy skies. With a large backpack over my shoulder I was completely comfortable in long pants and long sleeve shirt. Everyone else was quite happy in beach wear and swimsuits. I quickly left the tourist beach and rounded a corner to the naturist/nudist beach with naked people who really shouldn’t be naked. Believe me, I could have passed on this section. From there it was on to another tourist beach then up over a ridge to the somewhat nice seaside village of Swanage teeming with, yes, more tourists.

After grabbing a big piece of cod with chips I climbed out of Swanage to what the coast path is really all about, beautiful sea cliffs and rolling terrain. The walking began to get good as I followed the trail with open green hills rising to my right and the ocean below cliffs dropping off to my left.

I hiked on further until the sun began to hang low and chose a nice campsite in an abandoned quarry right next to the ocean. I was sure I’d have the place to myself until just about dark when three burly somewhat attractive women showed up with big packs. They’re here to climb upon the miles of routes that line the sea cliffs here. I think they are of an alternative lifestyle if you know what I mean.

So it’s my first day on the South West Coast Path. I plan to walk a hundred miles of it. If I like it I may go further. I’ll just see how it feels..

Saturday August 13

It was rainy and blustery all night but in the morning it cleared. I had a nice intermittently partly sunny view from my tent as I packed up camp and began a full day of fine hiking along hills overlooking sea cliffs. I paused for awhile at a chapel that's estimated to be around 800 to 900 years old and measures 7.77 meters square. It reminded me of my walks on the Camino through France and Spain which brought on mixed feelings of nostalgia and loneliness.

The clouds returned by late morning as I tackled short yet steep climbs with a pack that’s a little too heavy. The gray overcast day added to already mixed feelings of melancholy. Up and down until I arrived at the quaint yet tourist packed idealic fishing village of Lulworth where I dined on fish and chips with the pint before filling water bottles and moving on to find a campsite reasonably sheltered from the wind.

Saturday, August 14

I awoke to a gloriously blue sky and got off to a good start. The Southwest Coast path is an interesting mix of wild unspoiled green hills spilling off cliffs guarding the English Channel with beaches along the way, however, in between these sections are villages, resorts, and some larger towns. In August you can expect any and all of these places to be packed. A few miles of blissful walking is sometimes followed by passing through heaps of tourists rushing to an ice cream stand for a Mr. Whippy and a cup of tea.

Today I passed through Weymouth. It’s a beach community known for its splendid 18th century beach front architecture and a magnet for vacation seekers. I felt like an alien with a backpack as I weaved in an out of the carnival rides while dodging people looking everywhere except where they were going.

From Weymouth I proceeded across a long strip of causeway to the Island of Portland. The path then took me through and alley way that seemed kind of odd until I arrived at a splendid pub atop a seawall. What I found there were two fine pints and a heaping plate of lamb with assorted potatoes and veggies. Two of my favorite English traditions, Real Ale and a Sunday Roast.

As I stared across the ocean enjoying my food and drink I began to feel like my old self again and was reminded of why I enjoy walking in England so much. In retrospect I’ve been a little out of sorts for the past 4 weeks but the fine drink, hearty food, and friendly English speaking English is just what I need right now.

After a very nice stop at the Pub I continued forward on a loop around Portland Island. I stopped at another Pub, at the tip of Portland known as the Bill, for another quick pint and a chat with the friendly staff before watching Sailboats round the tricky wind and currents of the Bill. With the day getting late I walked just a little further where I chose an splendid campsite overlooking a cliff near a quarry under a clear sky and full moon rising.

Dang - Western Europe is Expensive!

2011-08-11T17:56:00.000-05:00

Train Tickets, a couple of books, a box posted to America, food, a dinner out, and few pints. Throw in a weak exchange on the Yankee dollar and your head will spin with the reality that Western Europe is very expensive right now. Gone are the salad days of single rooms and every dinner out while traveling Asia. Now its camping, crashing on floors, and reduced for quick sale sandwiches. Even with a paupers approach it's a struggle to keep things within reason. If I were a typical 2 week vacation a year career American I’d throw caution to the wind but with the way I roam Western Europe isn’t a budget friendly place to travel under the current economic circumstances.

I skipped Paris because a shared dorm room in a hostel costs $50+!!! That’s crazy in my opinion. Asia was cheap, Eastern Europe reasonable, and the French Yoga festival free due to a work exchange. I guess it wasn’t until I left the Yoga festival that I was hit with the harsh reality of how much it costs to travel Western Europe. It almost seems more worth it to hop a plane to Prague or something. Eastern Europe is very interesting and runs on a whole different economy. Anyway, just wanted to get this issue off my chest.

On another note, Tuesday and Wednesday were migraine free so I’ll be leaving Lewes tomorrow. I seem to be doing better so my plan is to head to the South West Coast of England and hike along a National Trail for a week and see how it feels. I think some walking would do me some good right now. I’ll keep my fingers crossed on the weather. England is grey, windy and kind of cold right now.

While in Lewes I’ve been staying at Jerome’s home. The setup crews cook, Arian, and her 13 year old daughter, Kiki, have also been staying at Jerome’s. We all crossed over from France together in Jerome’s old ’89 VW van. His place is a small. It's an old 2 bedroom two story brick building next to a relatively busy road. Three of us have been sleeping on the living room floor. Jerome and his flat mate occupy the rooms upstairs. Arian fixes us dinner while Kiki browses the web for the latest K pop sensation and Jerome plays some fine Gypsy music on a sweet guitar he hand built himself. At this point it feels like a family of brothers and sisters. We all get along well and it’s quite nice. Jerome knows I’m not too interested in returning for setup next year but he’s already sure I’ll be back.

Yesterday I roamed around the neighboring city of Brighton. I think it’s fair to say that it’s the San Francisco of England. There are numerous funky shops, women with pink hair, street entertainers and a large gay pride festival coming up this weekend. The general majority of locals are young and it’s a university town. There’s a rocky beach and an amusement pier to add the already attractive assortment of traditional English style architecture. It’s cool, hip, and only an hour away from London by train.

Well, it's three hours by train to where I'll begin my walk. Better get myself together.

3 Days - 3 Migraines

2011-08-09T16:38:00.001-05:00

Once again I’ve fallen behind on the blog so here’s some posts to catch up. Not to make excuses but between being busy with the Yoga festival, a series of migraines and dubious internet access blogging has not been easy.

I’m currently in Lewes, England. It’s a 3 ½ hour ferry hop from France. When I arrived it was windy, cold, but partly sunny. Yesterday,later in the morning, for the third day in a row I developed a visual migraine.
It starts out of nowhere with a flash in my vision. I then feel a rush of adrenalin as my sight becomes distorted with flashing squiggly lines etc. The visual affects can last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour and a half. I’ve never had consecutive migraines before and can go for months without getting one so three in a row is a bit strange for me. I really think it’s an accumulation of time on the road and the fact that the Yoga Festival wore me down so much.

The first migraine happened as I was preparing to leave the festival grounds. The second one happened as I sat outside the Cathedral in Chartes, France. The third as I sat outside in Lewes around mid morning. Many things can trigger a migraine but certain foods, stress, and lack of sleep are the most common culprits. Aside of disrupted sleep patterns my diet has been quite different and vegetarian ever since arriving at the Yoga Festival. One of my theories is that I’m not getting enough of the right kind of protein. I ate chicken last night and today for lunch. I think it’s making a difference. Fortunately, all three migraines have been relatively mild with 20 minute visual disturbances followed by a very light headache that passes within a couple of hours. Relatively speaking, I’m very lucky all things considered. They have the potential to be much worse.

Needless to say I’m feeling a bit out of sorts. I’m in need of some familiarity and normalcy in relation to me, so, I trotted down to a pub for a pint of Real Ale. That’s where I’m at now and it seems to be doing some good. The vintage soul music flowing out of the speaker to my right doesn’t hurt either.

I’m a little unsure what my next direction will be but I do think some walking would do me some good. For the moment I'm taking it easy.

England?

2011-08-09T16:27:00.000-05:00

Monday, August 8.... Very Early...

It’s 4:45 and I’m aboard a ferry that departs at 5 am for England out of Dieppe, France. The early morning start is sure to add to the already exhausted state I find myself in after 3 weeks at the European Yoga Festival.

At the end of the Festival I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do or what direction I wanted to go but every option seemed good. Since I had to stay after the festival to help with cleanup my friend Corwin headed to the South of France. Naturally, I originally planned to catch up with him but he’s traveling on a much shorter time frame. It would have been a quick and rushed sort of reunion after having already spent plenty of quality time catching up during the festival.

What to do? The south of France wasn’t really attracting me for some odd reason. I then pondered a lengthy hike along the northern route of the Camino de Santiago in Spain but couldn’t really sell myself on the idea. A long walk on one of France’s fantastic GR routes seemed like a better choice. Since I’m so exhausted I considered catching up with my Aunt and Uncle in Italy via a cheap flight out of Paris but a long walk sounded good. With a little more thought, considering my time, I decided the most reasonable, sensible, and objective option would be to travel north to the regions of Brittany and Brest then hop a ferry to Cork, Ireland. I had all but decided to go with that idea when Jerome, the setup crew supervisor, presented me with another option.

The option presented was a cheap trip across the English Channel aboard Jerome’s VW van. It wouldn’t cost me any gas and the ferry price for me with the van would only be around $10 USD. Once in England I could stay at his place for a few days before continuing on. Along the way he planned to stop in Chartes to see the Cathedral which definitely interested me.

Ok, a visit to Chartes coupled with a cheap and easy trip to England made Jerome’s offer appealing. In the back of my mind I had also been thinking of a long walk on the Southwest Coast of England. But why windy wet and cold England over warm and sunny Southern France? For whatever reason England seemed to be pulling me north so England it is.

An Exhausted Mans Review Of The European Yoga Festival

2011-08-09T13:25:00.001-05:00

What made me think 3 weeks at the Yoga festival would be a nice way to relax and recoup from over 3 months on the road? Yes it was nice to be amidst some familiar faces and to stay in one place for awhile without having to spend any money but it was surprisingly exhausting at the same time. Much more so than last year.

Maybe it was all of the work in the rain before and after the festival? Maybe it was the people walking past my tent at 4 am singing with a guitar to wake every one up for morning Sahdna/Yoga? Maybe it was the 2,500 people packed together amidst the Chateau grounds?

Although I honestly enjoyed the setup before the festival, the people in the setup crew, the Chateau grounds, runs in the countryside, and my good friend Corwin’s company I really didn’t enjoy the actual festival. This year the crowd was a bit too big and not particularly friendly in my opinion. Not to be prejudice but most of the participants were German which kind of created a more rigid and stiff atmosphere from my perspective. I lacked interest in the workshops that seemed overly Sikh Religion based. The three day meditation intensive, led by an American woman with an abrasive personality, seemed more like torture than anything worthwhile. However, the third day was positive due to a good partner. My favorite part of the festival was when everyone started leaving. This all goes without saying that I’m speaking Strictly for myself. Ask another participant and you’re likely to get a very different opinion.

Calling the event the European Yoga Festival is a little misleading. It should more accurately be called, "The Westernized Sikh with Kudalini Yoga Festival”. If that sounds like an odd combination your right. In reality traditional Sikh’s don’t practice Yoga.

Although I find the Sikh faith with its mantras and customs to be a very beautiful religion it’s definitely not my path. This year, more than last year, I noticed the religious influence. It reminded of how I’m not a particularly religious person in the organized and structured sense of religion. My faith is Christian based and personal. I don’t feel a need to preach or adhere to a structure manufactured by a 3rd party interpretation. Call me spiritual. But religious? Not really.

In many ways I felt out of place at the festival but thought the 3 day White Tantric Meditation Intensive (not to be confused with the other pop culture tantric) would be beneficial as I’ve done it three previous times. Once in Europe and twice in America. It involves sessions of 30 to 60 minutes of sitting while maintaining a specific pose (Kriya). Eyes can be opened or closed and sometimes you recite a mantra. All of this is done while facing a partner.

This time I found the sittings to be very uncomfortable and the sessions to be more like a weird and bizarre form of suffering. It all felt kind of strange. The irritable facilitator came off about as spiritual as a can of cheese whiz. By the end of the 2nd day I felt completely wiped out and drained. The 3rd day turned out to be ok but I attribute it more to the fact that it was a short day and my partner was the nicest and sweetest person you could ever meet.

As anticipated the best part of the entire experience was simply being a part of the family like group of people who made up the setup crew. No complaints in that department. So, would I do it again? Well, as last year I thought it was too long of a committment in relation to compentsation but that's not an issue with me. What is the issue is that although Yoga is supposed to be about mind, body, and spirit it's also about money when it comes to things like festivals and workshops.

From what I can tell the Euro Yoga Festival brings in a lot of money and I'm not sure I support nor want to have anything to do with the organization that's behind it. From a moral, worthwhile, and ethical standpoint I think I would be better off investing my volunteer time in some other form of humanitarian cause. Although 3HO is a non profit organization that puts on the festival I really question where the money is going.

So, will I do it again? Most likely not but I'll definitely miss the setup crew.

The Setup Crew

2011-08-09T12:31:00.000-05:00

“Tomorrow is going to be a very hard day” says Jerome with a blank yet serious look that you have to laugh at. “I saw a such and such along with a couple of tits. No, not those kind of tits", says Martin the British bird watcher. “Queeee, Taallllll”, say Miguel from Ecuador. Geordi, from Spain, does not speak but says a lot. “Yes, no problem, I will do”, says Kata the type A fast paced Hungarian. “Ah yes, the toilets, first we must do this, then that before doing that, then we must, says Amrit the German. “Guru Todd!” says Francesca the Italian as she reaches to give me a nice Italian hug. “Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful”, says Malcolm the Londoner. Geraldine, the French woman, well, she doesn’t say much but does a good job looking lovely all the time. Daniel her boyfriend from Germany says, “Ahhhhh, these Germans, Ahhhh!” Suzanne from Rome speaks perfect English with a British accent and is Martins better half. Jeffery the young Frenchman, with a robust spirit and a penchant for wearing stylish ladies skirts, bounces around with smiles and funny comments that are all, well, so French! Hari, the German Indian doesn’t go anywhere without a turban and exudes his zeal for the Sikh faith. Ooval, from Germany, with a calm demeanor, says little but you can tell he really wants to bust out and dance or something.

I can go on and on. This is just a sampling of the diverse group of awesome people who make up the best part of the European Yoga Festival. The setup crew.

Chateau Update - Sad News From Houston

2011-07-28T09:37:00.003-05:00

Out of the Chateau grounds and right on the black top pavement for five minutes then another right at the first road past two lakes and a farm house on a crushed limestone path. Another right and I’m following a seldom used dirt road with and occasional paint mark signifying a public right of way. The way leads to narrow paved lane and I take a right paralleling cornfields until I reach a busier D road where I cross onto an overgrown short grass farm path and beyond.

I’ve been running on my memory of last year’s walks amidst an area known as the Solonge in the Loir Valley of France. When I came to the next intersection I wasn’t sure which way to go but I pushed on with a 1 in 3 chance of getting it right. I didn’t remember the vicious Rottweiler and German Sheppard, barely being held back by a short wire fence, so I retraced my steps, via a nice variation, back to the European Yoga Festival at the Chateau.

After nine days of setup duties I am now free to do as I please during the Festival. I’m under no obligation until August 3 when I’ll need to put in another 3 days to help clean things up. During the day there are many workshops and gatherings but after my time of lots of work and communal living with the setup crew I’m more inclined to do whatever I want during the festival.

This morning after my run I made a 25 minute walk into the village of Mur de Solonge. I had to wait in line behind Yoga teachers and Turban clad gurus, at the Bolangerie, who were doing a good job of cleaning the place out of Croissant and Pan Chocolate. I had to wait even longer at the bar, behind more Yoga pros, for a Coffee that is now suspiciously more expensive than last week.

I’m now back on a running routine of 4 to 8 miles almost everyday. My interest in running seems to have sparked once again and the area around the Yoga Festival is excellent for it. Terrain is mostly flat and full of quiet roads, paths, and trails. I’m now getting to know the area quite well and am able to come up with some really nice loops.

Aside running I’ve been quite happy to hang out with a good old friend by the name of Corwin. We’ve been friends for around 27 years and went to college together. He’s been practicing Yoga for approximately 15 years with a keen interest in Kundalini Yoga. Kundalini is the primary form of Yoga at the Festival. Although Corwin has attended countless events in America he has never been to an event in Europe. When I decided to return to the setup crew I extended an invitation for him to join me. He took advantage of the opportunity and arrived 3 days ago. I scouted out a prime campsite for him on a quiet end of the Chateau Lake. We’ve already spent many hours there engaged in philosophical conversation while catching up in general.

This year’s festival is a big one and it’s expected to be the biggest yet. My main interest is in the 3 day meditation intensive. Other than that I’m not particularly attracted to much but I really should give a couple of workshops a try.

For me the Yoga festival is about something different. Naturally the nice campsite, access to the chateau grounds, free festival admission with meals included is a nice work exchange but that is not the main reason for my participation.

As someone who pretty much does what he wants when he wants to all the time I think it’s important to step out of that world to see where I’m at when it comes to living and working with others. My time with the setup crew revolves around a schedule dictated by a supervisor. All meals are communal and no one eats until everyone is together and a simple prayer of Satnam is repeated 3 times. It’s very different from my regular day to day lifestyle.

This year has gone quite well. Better than last year. I’m much more relaxed and usually pretty patient with it all. Once again the group is a really a great bunch of diverse people with approximately half of the team returning from last year. I’m totally fine and content with the work and in some ways find it nice to not have to make many decisions because a structure makes decisions for me. In a lot of ways I’m a loner at heart but aside of a tendency to be a little self absorbed at times I think I do well working in most groups. I have to say my favorite part of this whole festival will most likely be the first week when it was just us set folks, the Chateau grounds all to ourselves, sharing food between work duties and laughing every chance we get. I guess you could call it a form of Karma Yoga. Most of all, it's been fun.

Right now the grounds are packed with over 2,000 people camped everywhere and close to each other. I’ve got a good spot by the lake on the edge where loud meets quiet. I thought I’d move when the festival started but the tents that moved in around me are occupied by reasonable quiet campers so I’m staying put.

As far the crowd is concerned it’s made up of mostly Germans and a good percentage of Spanish. The rest are Europeans and a very small number of Americans. I don’t feel much drawn to, or, a part of the crowd. It’s probably because I haven’t participated with the 4:30 am Sahdna and various workshops throughout the day. My disconnected feeling will more than likely change after the 3 day meditation intensive with an expected 1500 or so attendees.

I’ll continue my life here until around August 5th or 6th then I’ll spend a few days traveling with Corwin until he has to catch a flight back to the States. Between now in then I’ll keep up the daily run, mingle amidst new faces, and wait my turn behind Yoga Masters sneaking off to the village for coffee and croissant.

On a completely different and much sadder note I received an email yesterday on the passing of Mark Fraser, a running club friend who was very active with The Bayou City Road Runners in my hometown, Houston, Texas. I remember many animated conversations with Mark who was always full of witty creative energy. He encouraged me to pursue my interest in writing as I admired his accomplishments as a writer. He was truly a unique individual and a real fixture in the running community. Such a shock. He was always the picture of Perfect Health and so full of life. A very young fifty something. I haven’t heard what the cause of death was but I assume it was sudden. While running this morning I thought of him a lot. Life is such a gift and no one knows how much time they have. He will be greatly missed. So hard to believe. My thoughts and prayers go out to his family.

The photo above was taken in the morning from my camp behind the Chateau.

Back At The Chateau - France

2011-07-22T15:56:00.002-05:00

It’s been a busy time since leaving Warsaw. An eleven hour train ride to Budapest followed by a 26 hour drive led me back to Chateau Fondjouan near Mur de Solonge in France. I can’t believe its already been a year since the last European Yoga Festival.

On one hand I really wasn’t ready to leave Eastern Europe. I felt like it was a shame to blow through so fast. On the other hand, I was feeling a bit tired from over 3 months on the road and thought it would be nice to drop my pack for 3 weeks.

In exchange for volunteering to be a part of the festival setup crew I’m treated to a lovely campsite, free admission to the festival, and all meals along with extra added benefits such as access to the Chateau facilities before and after the festival. There's no need to spend so much as a penny, during the entire time, while I catch up with familiar faces and friends from last year.

I arrived at the Chateau on Saturday Evening after meeting up with Kata in Budapest for a straight through drive across Austria and Germany. Kata is one of a few people I’ve kept in touch with since last year’s Festival via Facebook. She happened to be volunteering for set up as well so it made perfect sense for me to meet her in Budapest. Kata is Hungarian and lives in the city. She’s also a very hard working individual with a company that employees fourteen people. Kata manages it all at a breakneck pace so Yoga is a way of getting herself to slow down and take a breath for a moment.

What I can’t believe is that it’s already Friday! The first week has been a very busy time under less than ideal conditions. Last year the weather was more or less perfect aside of a day or two of rain. This year its been all about wind and rain with an occasional short period of sun.

Despite the mostly lousy weather I’ve managed to keep a dry camp and am really enjoying myself. Given the time I spent at the Chateau last year and the fact that I already know most of the crew I get a family home like feeling being here. The group is made up of a nice assortment of individuals who enjoy taking a little different approach to life. My work awhile, travel awhile lifestyle doesn’t seem foreign at all to those I’m now spending time with. The supervisor, Jerome, has a management style that’s perfectly suited for the situation. It all makes for a very nice environment in which I’m happy to be for the time being.

With all of the travel, work duties, group activities/meals, and dealing with poor weather I’ve had little time and not much inspiration to write. By the early part of next week things will free up for me so I intend to be more active on the blog. Time just got away from me since the last post.

I’ve included two photos with this story. One is a picture of the Chateau during a glorious break in the weather. The other is of a waiter at a nearby coffee shop I went to last year. I regretted not getting a photo last year so I got one with him this year.

Peculair Poland - Warsaw & Hostel

2011-07-13T10:17:00.002-05:00

All day on a train across Lithuania and into the surprisingly lovely countryside of Poland brought me to Central Station in Warsaw. I hadn’t planned on stopping in Warsaw but with limited transportation options out of Latvia and Lithuania, Warsaw made the most sense. From Warsaw you can easily get to anywhere in Europe.

Exit the station, get my bearings, and start walking. That’s what I like to do when I first arrive at a destination. Less than 30 minutes later, after a quick stop at an ATM, I arrived at a Hostel. I checked into a 6 bed dorm and introduced myself to two Dutch guys who also just arrived.

Since leaving Mongolia I’ve been staying in a lot of hostel dorms with 4 to 6 beds. You never know who your company will be but usually it’s fine and nearly impossible not to make new friends. That is the main appeal for many who stay at hostels and lately I’ve been enjoying that aspect. The funny thing for me is that Hostels in Europe usually attract a younger crowd. Right now I’m probably the only one over 30, where I’m staying, but people in Europe usually think I’m about 10 years younger than I really am. Sometimes I wonder if I may have backpacked 20 years ago with some of the younger crowds parents. Geez, listen to me, I'm talking like I'm middle aged, gettin old, or somethin?....

The key to a pleasant fun experience with a younger people at a hostel is to just go with it. When I returned from dinner last night most everyone was sitting around drinking and getting ready to go out. Two Dutch guys offered me a beer so I obliged. A 23 year old Canadian financial grad, one week into his first trip abroad, polished off a fifth of Gin and asked me what I thought of the United States Debt problem. Before I could answer he commented that America is screwed. I couldn’t disagree but I also couldn’t get a word in edgewise to explain the resiliency of Americans and their ability to overcome most anything. As the Canadian bounced out of the room I noticed a Finn with a Mohawk that looked like a fin. He was being coolly unsociable and I asked if I could take a picture of him. He complacently gave an Ok but I’m sure he took my request as a compliment.

The six bed dorm included myself, the two Dutch guys, two Polish women who I keep thinking are German for some reason, and a Polish guy with a large belly who snores like a freight train. Aside of the big Polish guy everyone was fine. The Dutch guys came in late but were super quiet. The girls went to sleep about the same time I did. The snoring Pole was a really nice guy but not one of us will be sharing a room with him tonight as we have all moved from room 7 to room 8 while he was away.

Warsaw is turning out to be a nice surprise. The city was originally bombed to oblivion during World War 2 but rebuilt with salvaged materials by a mix of qualified and unqualified labor. The result is a remarkably well restored city that looks more authentic than some restored cities that have never seen a piece of shrapnel. The old section is surrounded by modern post war architecture but it’s done well with a nice appeal.

I had originally planned to sneak in a quick visit to Krakow before heading to Budapest but for now I’ll have to skip Krakow. I’ll be heading to Budapest tomorrow. I learned something interesting today. When purchasing a ticket at the counter ask at least two different agents about the price. Today I knew what train I wanted but didn’t know the cost. I went to one counter and they said 150 Polish whatever’s. Sorry, I don’t know what they call the currency here but I get 3 of them for $1 USD. Anyway, I went to another counter and asked the price for the same train, cheapest ticket, and the price was 326 Polish whatever's. I go back to the other counter and get the ticket for 115 Polish whatever’s. Hmmm? Not sure I understand how the ticket pricing works but in the end I came out quite well. I don't know how the price got so good! Maybe they gave me a student discount or something. No complaints on my end!

Poland is a funny place and although I didn’t grow up around any Polish immigrants Polish jokes use to be quite common in the States. For example, yesterday when the train made its first stop in Poland the only person to get on was a guy with a ladder. Sounds like the start of a joke. Doesn’t it? But that’s what really happened. Also, When we arrived at Central Station, in Warsaw, the escalator to get out of the underground platform was working going down but not working going up. A portly old lady in front of me struggled with a heavy suitcase so I carried it up for her as she complained in Polish the whole time. Maybe she didn’t want my help? Or, was she thanking me? Maybe she thought I was trying to take her suitcase from her?

Unfortunately I won't have time to get to know the peculiarities of Poland this time around but it does strike me as an interestingly peculiar country.

From Riga To Vilnius - Lithuania

2011-07-10T13:42:00.002-05:00

The Italian, who I estimated was in his late twenties, commented in broken English that he would not be out long. I disagreed with him and commented, “Once you see how many beautiful women are in this city you will be out all night”.

For the past two days I shared a 4 bed hostel dorm with a mid twenties American, by the name of Alex, who has a deep interested in Russian literature and culture. He had already spent two years and Russia and speaks the language fluently. He is now on his way back to Russia but is spending two and a half weeks in the Baltic states of Europe before returning. Tonight we had a new roommate, Franceso from Milan.

Alex, like myself, is a traveler who is more interested in culture and natural beauty than night life and chasing chicks. Our new roommate is obviously more interested in nightlife. I was awakened at 6 am when he returned.

Riga, Latvia is a beautiful city with a really nice feel. It’s also full of beautiful women in their twenties. They are everywhere, all the time. I had heard of such places in Eastern Europe and obviously the word is out because many single men in their 20’s travel the region hunting for the perfect match. The kicker is this. There appears to be a lack of attractive women over 30. Hmmm, what’s up with that?

I was only going to stay 2 nights in Riga but stayed 3. I went for a nice run every morning and would head out about the same time some guys would be returning to the hostel. Riga was very relaxing and extremely easy. Easy is nice right now.

This morning I hopped a bus for a 4+ hour ride to Vilnius, Lithuania. Whereas Latvia reminded me more of Western Europe, Lithuania is more like I’d expect of Eastern Europe. It’s not so polished. It’s Europe without the sanitized for your protection paper around the toilet. Vilnius is a city full of Classic Brogue within an old town surrounded by a healthy dose of cold soviet utilitarian concrete.

The really nice thing about Eastern Europe is that it’s more or less half the price of Western Europe. Tonight I’m checked into a single room at the equivalent rate of $25 USD a night. I can stuff myself with local fare for $4 to $6 USD and a really good pint of local beer is around $2 USD as long as you stay out of the central tourist areas. Leave a little spare change for a tip if you feel like it because it’s only the nice restaurants where a waiter might expect a hefty 10% gratuity. I remember talking to a guy that had just traveled Eastern Europe shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union. It was like heaven for pennies in his eyes. Wish I’d listened to him then as I think the East is catching up pretty quick with its Western counterpart.

I’ve decided to spend two nights in Vilnius as I doubt I’ll be rushing back to Lithuania anytime soon. Once I leave here I’ll have to boogie to Budapest where I’ll catch up with a friend for a ride to France. I’m going to try and go from Vilnius directly to Krakow, Poland then overnight train it to Budapest. I’ll sort it out tomorrow.

I think my decision to return to the European Yoga Festival in France is a good one. In the process I’ll be reconnecting with many Friends. I look forward to the antics of Jerome from the UK, the kindness of Frederick and Stephanie from Lyon, and Corwin, a long time friend from Colorado who probably knows me better than anyone. I think this year’s Yoga Festival will be especially nice. I enjoyed last year’s event but I also had an itch to for other things at the same time that seemed to distract me. Right now my cup is full. I’ll be more than happy to pitch my tent next to a pond near a chateau while I absorb each and every moment of the three weeks I’ll be there.

Lately I’ve been really good about living in the present. I’ve been much more decisive than usual and find myself in a good space. As always I’m Extremely grateful for the freedoms and opportunities I have. Life is such an amazing adventure and I’m certainly enjoying the ride.

Russia - Parting Shots

2011-07-09T11:56:00.001-05:00

Here's a set of five photos from Russia. Two are from Moscow Red Square on two separate days and taken from two separate directions. I was happy to get a photo in front of St. Basils without loads of tourists. I accomplished this by going late in the day while it was raining. Another two are from the village of Suzdal. The final photo is on the border of Europe and Asia outside of Yekaterinburg.

Images From The Trans Siberian

2011-07-09T11:09:00.001-05:00

Here are some photos from my time on the Trans Siberian Railway. This set of photos are all train specific and do not include photos from places I stayed along the way. These pictures were taken on the train, from the train, or during stops at stations.

Russia To Riga - Mission Accomplished

2011-07-07T15:02:00.001-05:00

Russia was a rush due to Visa constraints and last night I hopped a train across the border into Latvia to the city of Riga. Riga was completely off the radar for me until I looked for an overland way out of Russia. Belarus and the Ukraine involve visas and I didn’t have enough time for St Petersburg where I could have crossed further north into Estonia.

The border crossing into Latvia was a breeze and I had no problem getting an exit stamp even though I did not register within three days of arriving in Russia. I had been informed that the law had recently changed and unless I spent more than 7 days in one place I did not have to register with the government. It seems like the new law is not very well known so I expected at least a little bit of questioning upon leaving. I had been advised to hang on to receipts to prove whereabouts etc. but I wasn’t asked for anything more than my passport at the border. I noticed all of the border officials were kind of young which is a good thing in Russia. The younger officials don’t seem to be too caught up in the old Soviet ways. Also, they’re probably not as corrupt.

For me Russia was a nice surprise. Language was a real issue, probably more so than anywhere I’ve traveled, but it was still easy to break the ice with a couple of phrases from my book and see that Russians are pretty darned nice and friendly. Surprisingly so. Everywhere I stayed I wished I could have stayed longer.

My last stop in Russia was Moscow. Red Square along with the Kremlin are quite impressive, however, I didn’t really feel an attraction to the city beyond that. Most backpackers feel the same way but rave about St. Petersburg which I didn’t have time for. Aside of Red Square I found the Lenin mausoleum to be a bizarre and fascinating attraction. In the Mausoleum you can see the actual preserved corpse of Lenin himself with one hand frozen in a fist and the other hand palm down flat as he’s dressed in his usual historical attire.

Upon entering the somewhat 70’s gaudy granite block like structure resembling a small Aztec temple your coldly welcomed by intimidating stone faced guards right out of the cold war era. The only sound you hear is the harsh snap of a finger as particularly scary official keeps the line moving quickly. Lenin himself appears remarkably well preserved. Sharp soft lighting bathes him like an angelic figure that demands to be remembered but it comes off more as a novelty attraction than anything. Well, at least that’s my take on it.

While in China I saw Mao Zedong in similar fashion. Although it seemed a little bizarre as well there is still a great regard for Mao in China therefore it definitely felt different. In Moscow I didn’t feel the same regard for Lenin and quite frankly I don’t think the people of Russia today really give him too much thought. However, I could be wrong. It’s just my impression.

Riga is a lovely city. It’s old, clean, nice, not expensive and every bit Europe. For me this kind of marks a point of "Mission Accomplished". I’ve been on the road for exactly 3 months as I passed through China, Mongolia, and Russia which was my goal. All three countries had their own kind of challenges that you need not worry about in Europe. China is exotic, Mongolia is wild, and Russia is Russia. Riga in fresh, trendy, and all about Easy.

For this trip difficult travel is over as far as I’m concerned. Europe is Western culture. Same, Same and not all that different from what I’m accustomed to back in the states. Today it seems like most everyone under 30 speaks English to some degree in the European cities and is happy to do so unlike France where they speak English but want you to try and speak French first. In Riga English is just fine. No problem.

I booked a spot at a hostel in a 4 bed dorm while in Riga. The way you get to it is very easy and kind of funny. From the train station walk out across a square and head to McDonalds. Walk into McDonalds and look for a door to a stairway. Go up to the 3rd floor and wait to be greeted by two friendly young tall blond haired women while new alternative music booms in the background. The place is very modern, trendy, and well managed with an excellent staff. It obvioisly caters to the 20 something traveler but it's not a party house from what I can tell.

I plan to spend a couple of days in Riga just hanging out and catching up with the blog. There have been many things I’d like to write about and photos to post but the last two weeks haven’t really allowed too much for the luxury. Until today I wasn’t too sure what I’d be doing with the remainder of the summer in Europe but this afternoon I came up with a plan. I’ve decided to return to a particular Chateau in France and volunteer again for the European Yoga Festival as I did last year. The fact is, after 3 months on the road, I’d kind of like to stay put for a little while. At the Yoga festival I’ll pitch my tent and reconnect with friends I met last year. Also, I won’t spend a dime for three weeks while I detox on healthy food, yoga, and meditation in between set up duties.

In the next few days I’ll make my way to Budapest to catch a ride with a friend from last year’s festival. From there we will drive to France. It seems like the perfect thing for now and I’m really looking forward to it. In the meantime I’ll enjoy a little bit of Eastern Europe.

Yekaterinburg to Vladimir - Trans Siberian

2011-07-04T11:01:00.002-05:00

Morning, July 2nd

I boarded the train From Yekaterinburg to Vladimir first thing in the morning for a 24 hour ride after a nice 30 minute walk from the hostel to the station.

Somehow, somewhere in the country of Russia a vandal, likely jacked up on vodka and beer, threw an object as hard as he could at a train window causing the safety glass to crack like a tightly woven spider web. The glass remains intact thus creating an undesirable kaleidoscopic affect obscuring any kind of a clear view. What are the odds that I would wind up on carriage 17 in a four person cabin with that very window?

Train 109 bound for Moscow is a long one with 18 coaches and carriage 17 has seen better days. The person who manages the carriage (usually a woman) is called a Providnista. Most run a pretty tight ship and keep things reasonably tidy. The more entraupenural ones sell food and drinks on the side or even rent out their own bunk to those who may not have been able to get a ticket at the ticket office. The Providnista on carriage 17 today wass pretty much worthless this morning. The good ones clean the toilet regularly and might even bug you a couple of times with the vacuum cleaner. I don’t think carriage 17 has seen a good cleaning in quite some time and it smells like an old World War 2 submarine.

I debated going through the process of using English, Russian, and a combination of hand signals and facial expressions to move to a different berth but there’s only one other person in the cracked window cabin I’ve been assigned. She’s a nice quiet young woman going to Moscow and I noticed other people in the carriage I’d probably prefer not to share a cabin with. My gut feeling says to stay put so I have. Fortunately the window opposite the cabin is big and clear so I do get one good side with a view. I tend to roam about the train walking through the other cars anyway.”

Afternoon July 2nd

“Where are you from?” asked the strolling vendor selling something when the train stopped at a station for 25 minutes. The man questioning me really wasn’t interested in selling me anything. He was just curious about an American from Texas traveling across Russia. He asked me how I liked Russia and why I was traveling by train.

“Why don’t you fly? This train is old. It’s hot”, said the man. He also commented about some other foreigners traveling by train who were not having much fun. I strongly disagreed with him and said the train wasn’t too hot and I liked it. I then went on to comment that I wanted to experience the real Russia. I posed the question to him, “This is the real Russia. Right?” He responded with a smile..

Late Afternoon July 2nd

The word from First Class carriage 12 is that the Providnista punched an unruly passenger who came over from the dining car to use the toilet. The scuffle was followed by an argument with the Providnista winning and two men succumbing to a mop and bucket while the Providnista oversaw a cleanup. This story was relayed to me by the French/American couple I keep running into. I joined them for awhile in their First Class cabin, with a nice clear window, as they generously served me fine aged ham with cheese with crackers.

My cabin is now full with three very quiet passengers who all seem to be wrapped up in books and the cracked up window doesn’t seem to be bothering. A clear gut feeling never lets me down.

Night July 2nd & 3rd

I was approached by a curious half drunk 30 year old persistent Russian with decent broken English wanting me to join him for a drink in his cabin. He seemed friendly and harmless enough but I really didn’t feel like drinking so I declined. He seemed particularly interested in the young woman staying in my cabin who I found out is only 18. He insists I join him for a drink but I’m really seriously tired.

Got up in the middle of the night to use the toilet and opened the cabin door to, “Hello”! It was the persistent Russian at 2am. I avoided any questions by giving him a disinterested glance and proceeded to the bathroom. Upon my return he appeared to be having some luck with the 18 girl in the hallway as she halfway resisted his advances.

Moring July 3rd

Arrived in Vladimir on time at 6:47 AM. The morning was clear and cool. Walked across the street from the train station and easily purchased a 7:30 bus ticket for a 45 minute ride to the medieval village of Suzdal. Arrived in Suzdal at 8:20…. Checked into a hostel and went for a run amidst numerous Onion domed churches… Smooth and easy trip… I seem to be managing well with just a few Russian words.

Trans Siberian Life

2011-07-01T12:02:00.000-05:00

I never like arriving late and I wasn’t sure what to think when I stepped off the train in Yekaterinburg at 10:40 pm. I had tried to arrange for a Taxi pickup through the hostel but without a cell phone I wasn’t able to make clear arrangements. Nonetheless, I went to the area where taxis meet and there was no one to greet me. I pretty much figured I’d be setting myself up to be overcharged and can’t speak Russian so I kind of wanted to avoid a taxi that wasn’t prearranged. Some buses were still running and I debated hoping on one but on the other hand it was still quite light at 11 pm and I had clear directions for walking.

I quickly got my bearings and headed off on what I figured would be a 30 minute stroll. Considering I’d just spent 2 nights and 50 hours on a train I was happy to be on my feet so on I went.

The first thing I noticed was how many people were still out. There seemed to be a high percentage of couples walking hand in hand as well as older people enjoying the purple sunset with waspy clouds. The city felt safe and the streets noticeably clean. The air was cool and fresh. No need to worry. Sure enough, thirty minutes later I arrived at yet another Soviet built apartment complex.

I went around the side and dialed a number on a key pad to gain access through the fortress quality steel door and made my way up worn concrete stairs to floor 4. I was happily greeted by welcoming friendly attractive young Russian woman speaking fluent English with a nice Russian accent.

Katia quickly showed me around the homey one bedroom apartment with six bunks and a fold out sofa. She then pulled out a map to get me oriented. By this time it was about 11:45 and the sun still hadn’t quite set yet. I was also introduced to two nice young Austrian women, staying at the hostel, who are heading to Mongolia then China on the Trans Siberian. A British couple arrived not long after me. I took a top bunk above a large Australian who was out for the count.

Hostels in Russia are pretty cool and I’m actually enjoying staying in shared accommodations. Russia is not particularly backpacker central so the hostels tend to be small, cozy, and the managers friendly. It makes for a very hospitable atmosphere where everyone gets to know one another. It’s quite common to be sharing food and drink shortly after arrival.

Shared dorm style accommodation is definitely significantly cheaper than any other paid option for accommodation anywhere in Europe. With kitchen facilities, usually included, it can be quite economical. So, for now I’m on a hostel kick unlike China where I was all about having my on space considering it could usually be had for $8 to $15 USD. But that was China.

So far the Trans Siberian Railway has been a nice experience. On the trip from Irkutsk I first shared a 4 berth cabin with a young Electrical Engineer and two young girls with a baby. Fortunately the baby slept a lot. After they got off I shared the cabin with a couple in their 70’s who both had a mouth full of gold teeth. I really wanted to take their picture but they wouldn’t let me. Only one of the girls knew a few English words but otherwise it was all Russian. With my Berlitz phrase book I was able to make a few exchanges which made for a warm response from my cabin mates. I was offered food from the girls and the old couple insisted I have a coffee with them. Thus far I’ve found Russians to be really nice people once you break the ice which doesn’t take much.

Aside of the Russian filled 2nd class carriage I was traveling in there was an American/French couple in the First Class carriage who I befriended at the train station before boarding. I spent part of my time wandering back to First Class to engage in English conversation with the couple who now reside in Saigon, Vietnam. It was an interesting contrast which added to a variety of time spent staring out the window, interacting with Russians, napping, and consuming cheap weak Pilsner beer purchased from the ladies managing the carriage who had a little side snack business going.

The scenery along the Trans Siberian Railway has been nice in not a bit un-remarkable with hundreds of miles of Birch trees. Some of the stations are quite interesting but it’s only occasionally that I get enough time to actually get out and see much. Sometimes the train will make a 30 minute stop but it's never relaxed because the clock is ticking and your worst nightmare of getting left behind seems like a real possibility even though your wristwatch and train schedule says you have exactly 24 minutes.

My time in Yekaterinburg is brief but I’ve had a chance to walk around, visit the Europe/Asia boarder, a get a few chores done. The city itself is quite nice and there must be something in the air because wedding parties seem to be everywhere on this Friday afternoon.

Well, tomorrow it’s an overnight train to an ancient medieval village for a couple of nights then on to Moscow.

Irkutsk to Yekaterinburg

2011-06-28T02:51:00.000-05:00

In a couple of hours I'll board a train for over two days to get from Irkutsk to Yekaterinburg. I've given myself 15 minutes to write this post from a posh English Pub in Irkutsk that reeled me in with a wifi sticker on the entry door.

It's kind of a funny pub. Of course everyone is Russian. A little broken English is spoken as it's attached to a hotel. The decor is pretty well done in English fashion but all of the cute young waitresses are wearing Socttish Tartan dresses. I don't think I've ever seen that in England and I been to a lot of pubs. However, it kind of works with the contemporary spanish music in the background.

I ordered a pint of the cheapest beer on the menu. I was going to order a small glass because all I really wanted was a wifi connection but the bar tender, in a cool way with comment, "large glass?", gave me the message, at the very least, I had to order a pint. Fair enough.

Olkhon Island was great and the mini van ride back, with a load of lake fish on top, went quickly. We made a brief stop for lunch and I was happy to be able to engage in the point and shoot method of odering from a cooler window. Russia is tough when you don't know the language and the Russian alphabet doesn't help.

Well, I better run by a shop and pick up some food for the train and double check to make sure I've got Moscow time right. All of the train tickets in Russia are done in Moscow time. From where I am now there's a five hour difference. Where I arrive there's only be a two hour difference. And that's the easy part of the ticket.

Lake Baikal - Olkhon Island - Siberia, Russia

2011-06-28T02:33:00.000-05:00

Until embarking on the Trans Siberian I had never heard of Lake Baikal. It's the world’s deepest lake at 1,637 meters deep and 636 kilometers long. It’s said to contain almost one fifth of the worlds unfrozen water. With more water than the Great Lakes combined it’s like a sea within Siberia.

I had a nice day on the train ride from Ulan Ude to Irkutsk and arrived in the evening as a thunderstorm began to clear. I then walked a mile or so to a hostel and checked into a 7 bed dorm situated in an old Soviet flat. It’s a homey place with lots of room and a good sized kitchen. I shared it with five French travelers coming the other direction on the Trans Siberian railway.

The next morning I walked another mile or so to the bus station and caught a mini bus to another place I had never heard of, Olkhon Island. The island is situated on Lake Baikal and is known not only for its marvelous scenery but as a spiritual place steeped in old world Shamanic history. It’s a region still inhabited by Buryat people who are closely related to those of Mongolia. There’s a rustic village of 1500 people that’s geared towards accommodating summer visitors seeking a quiet place to relax. For me I figured three nights in village of Khuzhir would be perfect before my next leg on the Trans Siberian which will be over 2 days in length.

I left Irkutsk in a packed van of 14 people. It was a mix of 3 young Buryat males, a few older people amidst young and two women in their late twenties with a penchant for style that’s uniquely Russian and fashion oriented. After a couple of hours in the cramped van the driver and person sitting in front, who appeared to be his friend, made a quick stop for cigarettes and something to drink without giving us passengers a moment of thought to allow for a bathroom break. A few kilometers after the quick stop an old man on board began to angrily complain about what I assumed was the inconsiderate behavior of the driver. The driver quickly pulled over and everyone got out to relieve themselves wherever they seemed fit. An old lady hobbled into the woods for privacy.

The road deteriorates as you approach the ferry on Lake Baikal for Olkhon and once on the Island it’s a bumpy wash boarded road to the sandy road village of Khuzhir located roughly halfway up the western shore. There's not an ounce of pavement anywhere on the Island. The island itself is a mix of forest and broad wide open hills with plenty of lake views from most any open area.

Upon arrival the van made its rounds dropping people off at various places offering accommodation. I hadn’t booked ahead as I knew it wouldn’t be a problem finding a place. The problem though is everything is in Russian and hardly anyone speaks English. I decided to start where most every non Russian speaking backpacker goes and that’s Nakitas.

Nakitas is kind of a village within the village. It offers accommodation with full board, English speaking staff, and a number of facilities on premises including bar, restaurant, dining hall etc. The price is reasonable by western standards and an obvious choice for those seeking easy. I decided to try it for one night just to get situated but I wanted to see the rooms first. I was quoted a price and took a look around.

The first thing I noticed was how packed it was with foreign backpackers and it lacked an authentic feel. Something about the place didn’t hit me right. However, the rooms looked ok so I thought I’d give it a go anyway. When I went to check in there had been a mix up with the original quoted price and I was going to have to pay a little more for something extra that I didn’t see as extra at all. I nicely told the lady at check in that I’d prefer to look around town a little more but might come back. She came across quite rudely by saying, “Fine, Whatever”. I was instantly turned off and hit the sandy streets a walking.

The option to camp was a real option but I kind of wanted some interaction and a little Russian culture. I settled on a family run summer establishment with simple small cabins and very basic but adequate facilities. Along with a good feeling about the place I was enthusiastically greeted by Dmitri, a man in his twenties who has a talent for speaking English and a desire to do so. With a thick Russian accent he acted as interpreter between myself and the property manager. I settled on 3 nights with 3 dinners and got a little better price for the package than I would have at Nakitas.

The village of Khuzhir is very rustic and basic. The streets are lined with old charming wood built structures surrounded by unattractive wooden fences. Cows and large stray dogs roam freely. It doesn’t make for a particularly good first impression but after a walking around a bit and strolling down to the lake shore the place has a nice appeal that quickly grows on you.

Khuzhir is very quiet and sometimes it seems like there’s hardly anyone around until a Russian built 4wd van zips buy whipping up a dust cloud. Main Street is very wide. Nondescript bars and shops line the way. It’s somewhat like Mongolia but it’s obviously European. I was reminded of this when I saw two attractive Russian women dressed to the hilt navigating soft sand in high heels as a vehicle passed turning the air into a dusty airbrush sort of hue. The contrast was heightened by the woman’s purple seductively cut dress. It was kind of surreal. After all, this isn’t Manhattan. It’s Olkhan Island in Siberia. Wish I’d had my camera on me.

My first evening was spent drinking beer and talking to Dmitri after stuffing myself with home cooked traditional Russian fare prepared by Olga. Around 11 o’clock I called it a night but found out that I missed out the next day as vodka and beer flowed freely until 5 am. Dmitri explained to me how Russians love to sit next to Lake Baikal and just drink. This is especially true on a Saturday night.

The following night, Sunday, I was feeling a little more chipper so I met up with an Australian couple who I have be bumping into since China. They raved about Saturday night. We went to the bar that they were at the night before but naturally, being Sunday, it was more quiet. In the corner sat a middle aged couple, Alexi and Helen, who were just finishing off a bottle of Vodka. They invited us to join them but didn’t speak but a couple of words of English. Obviously sauced but super friendly and full of smiles they enthusiastically engaged us in conversation. All in Russian off course except for the odd English word thrown in just enough to give us a clue as to what we were talking about.

In the course of 2 hours we talked about politics and life, drank vodka, shook hands numerous times, drank beer, took pictures of each other, and got invited to stay with them in Irkutsk. Alexi asked me my name about 50 times as his cute red headed wife or friend giggled like school girl. They were an especially warm and friendly couple but I must admit it was a bit of a workout. It’s frustrating when you can’t clearly communicate but I really appreciated their hospitality.

I had heard about how you can get drawn into these sort of things in Russia and how hard it can be to resist. In the end though I thought it was pretty cool. So far I get the impression that Russians generally come off kind of rough and hard on the outside but sit down and throw back a shot of vodka and you’re liable to experience some of the friendliest and most hospitable people anywhere.

Olkhon is a big island and there are plenty of things to do for the outdoor enthusiast. Most people take advantage of an excursion or fishing trip but I’ve decided to just hang around the village and lake shore. There’s plenty of hiking and mountain biking but it’s also especially good for running. Since Mongolia I’ve been working in a run whenever I can. Olkhon is especially good for running with numerous lightly worn 4wd paths and trails going all over the place. Today I ran for an hour on trails to the summit of a hilltop peak that afforded awesome views of Khuzhir village and the lake.

For now I’ll enjoy the rest of my time here. There are a couple of nearby beaches and today I might brave a quick breath taking dip. Apparently if you jump in the lake three consecutive times it has some kind of mystical healing power.

Self Absorbed On The Road

2011-06-28T02:11:00.000-05:00

For me life is a constant learning process that never ends. I’ll often reflect, contemplate, and even over analyze various personal issues that I feel need attention. I try to look at myself as accurately as I can but we all see ourselves differently than others see us to some degree.

When I travel I meet and interact with a large variety of people amongst a myriad of personality types from all over the world. This causes me to reflect more about my place in society and how I relate to others. Most encounters are brief with quick introductions and friendly exchanges of stories and information. Sometimes times you find yourself randomly meeting up with the same people from time to time at various locations and faces become more familiar. On occasion you might even travel with one another for a few days or longer which provides more of an opportunity to actually get to know one another.

Occasionally I’ll find myself traveling with someone for a period of time but it’s very different from traveling with someone I know or am committed to traveling with. First of all, solo travelers tend to be really into doing their own thing. It’s pretty much a given rule that at most any point one or the other can say, “See you later, I want to do something else”, and that’s totally fine. It creates a different kind of dynamic. Often times people are likely to talk and treat each other differently than they would someone they’ve known for awhile. In this way people tend to be bit more real and to the point. If you’re a little clued in it can be a good opportunity to get a more accurate impression of how others see and/or react to you. This all goes without saying that the way we are is often a complex result of things that happen to us throughout our life but that’s beside the point.

While traveling in Mongolia I was fortunate to meet up with 3 others to combine resources for a 9 nine trip into the Mongolian wilds. Simon took the lead at planning while Gary and Sinead fueled the enthusiasm with ideas. For me it was all good so I was content with whatever and just considered myself along for the ride which was perfectly fine in my eyes.

On the second night we chose to camp along a river. I voiced my only concern, mosquitoes, but there were few if any so I was totally fine with the site we chose. I then got on with my own business of setting up camp and took little interest in joining Gary for collecting firewood. I had a headache and couldn’t be bothered but got an arm full anyway and went back to taking care of myself. After all, I’m generally not much of a campfire person. Such was my attitude.

As I went about my business Simon asked if I’d go get another load of wood. I dismissed the request as I was busy getting myself situated. This resulted in Simon angrily firing off on me in blunt British fashion about how I was not being a part of the team, etc. Although he didn’t have to be so frank he did have a point so I gathered another load of wood. That evening I must admit, I enjoyed the campfire. And forgot about the incident.
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A few days later I was once again tending to myself and going about getting ready to leave in the morning. I dug through the group food because I knew I wanted oatmeal and just wanted to boil up a single serving, real quick, in my own pot. After all, I wanted to make it fast and easy. No problem. I even asked everyone if that was ok. Gary and Sinead didn’t seem to care but once again Simon fired off in blunt British fashion but this time less harsh and with more explanation. I was a little taken aback but Simon did have a point. I wasn’t functioning in team mode. I took a pause. Instead, I boiled up a large pot for everyone and wondered why I hadn’t thought of that in the first place? Was I really that self absorbed?

Sometimes when we hear what we need to hear and actually listen, it doesn’t feel good. However, often times we make the most positive changes by listening to and assimilating constructive criticism with No excuses and No blame. Excuses and blame are often ways to deny and dismiss responsibility.

The fact is that over the past four years my life has been intensively self oriented. I work for myself, I travel for myself (but hopefully inspire others in some way), and skate along the fringe of interaction amidst infrequent social gatherings. I have many acquaintances but few close friends and I haven’t dated anyone in the time that’s passed. I’ve done a very good job of looking out for myself and do feel blessed that I enjoy my own company but obviously things are a little out of balance. Simon delivered a message and I began to wonder in what other ways I might not be a team player amidst the field of life.

Like I’ve said in a previous post everyone is wired differently and each one of us is meant to fulfill their role in life in their own unique fashion. However, I don’t really believe life is meant to be lived entirely for oneself. I’m very good at living for myself but at the same time it leaves me wondering what my real purpose is. This riddle remains. I don’t see myself volunteering for the Peace Corps, working in disaster torn areas, living in Third World mayhem, embracing human rights issues, joining a mission group, or simply teaching English. As a world traveler these are the obvious choices but I don’t feel drawn to any. It’s very common for many travelers to engage themselves at some point or another in these causes but for me it’s different and I don’t know why.

The one thing I do know is this. Although I may be self absorbed at times I’m not selfish and entirely mean well. I may give the impression of being lazy on occasion but anyone who knows me knows I’m not the least bit lazy. I’m driven in an easy going fashion and am always motivated to do something. Perhaps I just need to shift my thinking towards finding a role within a team upon the stage of life.

Onward To Russia - Trans Siberian

2011-06-23T05:23:00.003-05:00

I departed by train from Ulaanbaatar for Russian Siberia early in the afternoon on Tuesday. In the middle of the night we reached the Mongolian border. Everyone cleared customs and immigration within an hour and we proceeded across to what my cabin mate called “Raa-see-a”.

I was booked on a 2nd class ticket with a comfortable cabin containing four berths with a table and large picture window. There were just two of us sharing the cabin. My company was an older rough around the edges stout Russian man with a large belly. His face and hands showed wear and strain that can only be attained through a life of hard labor, stress, and smoking. At first he came across a little intimidating and I feared he might be a one of the dreaded vodka drinkers I’ve heard about but with a couple of pleasant exchanges, through my Russian phrase book, he warmed right up. I quickly took a liking to him. I speak no Russian and he spoke no English but it was clear he had my best interest at heart.

When we stopped at the Russian border the first person to board was a stone faced 30 something military guy who went through the carriage banging around and looking for illegal immigrants and stowaways. After that we proceeded a little further and a mix of official looking people boarded for immigration and customs. I handed over my passport to a serious looking woman and hoped there wouldn’t be any problems. I wasn’t sure if I had filled out the entry card properly and had scribbled out a mistake or two. I tried to get another form to redo a new card before arrival but the Provodnista (woman who manages the carriage) couldn’t be bothered with my request and seemed quite perturbed I would even ask. Oh well, I knew my Visa was straight.

As I was waiting to get my passport back I heard the heavy breathing of what I was sure was some kind of large drug dog. Yes, it was a drug dog but I was surprised to see a small and friendly border collie type of canine. I continued to wait and dozed off.

I was awoken by my cabin mate and very happy to get my passport back with the proper entry stamp and all. No problems. In the end it took almost 4 hours to clear Russian immigration and customs due to old Soviet beauracracy that still hangs on.

I arrived in Ulan-Ude around 7:30 in the morning exhausted from overnight border crossing. I then found my way to the only hostel in Ulan Ude and checked myself into a comfortable dorm room with 8 beds. I don’t much care for dorms but Russia, for whatever reason, is very expensive so its time to get use to hostel dorms again.

Upon arriving in Ulan Ude I completed the Trans Mongolian railway and am now on the Trans Siberian rail line. I had debated booking tickets in advance through an agent but in doing so I would have paid twice as much. I therefore decided to throw caution to the wind and just book along the way. It’s generally not a problem but it can be a big hassle.

When I checked into the hostel I was greeted by the very helpful owner, Denis, who is Siberian Buryat but speaks excellent English and English is very rare in this part of the world. I requested his help on buying my next ticket. He offered to help me get it sorted online. It’s very difficult for a non Russian to navigate the ticketing site so I hadn’t even considered giving it a try. Oh, and I didn’t even had an itinerary.

Denis browsed the site and with the advice of an enthusiastic Neapolitan Italian guest, who had taking the train the other direction, I worked out an itinerary. It took all morning but by 1 pm and a call to my credit card fraud department, to pull the block off my card after the first purchase, I had all of my tickets worked out. Wow! It all came together so easily. I couldn’t have made a better decision to stop in Ulan Ude. With remarkable ease the stage is set for a train ride all the way to Moscow and beyond to Latvia.

Between Ulan-Ude and Moscow I’ll make three stops. The stops will include Irkutsk to visit the world’s deepest lake, Yekaterinburg to see a fine Russian city, and Vladimir to visit a nearby village full of old world charm. I’ll then press on to Moscow for a brief stop to visit Red Square and Lenin’s mausoleum before rushing to Latvia before my Visa runs out.

So far my first stop in Russia has been great. Ulan-Ude is a pleasant small city and said to be the perfect transition stop between Russia and Mongolia. The difference between countries is dramatic but there’s still an element of Mongolian Buyrat culture in this part of Siberia. The hostel is very comfortable and it’s really quite nice exchanging info with other travelers. Also, I can cook my own food. Most people travel the Trans Siberian from Moscow to Beijing so making stops at hostels on the way to Moscow is a great way to get current info. The dorm is much more comfortable than expected and last night I slept great. Tomorrow I’ll move on to my next stop, Irkutsk.

Nine Days In The Mongolian Wilds

2011-06-20T09:43:00.003-05:00

I’m now back in Ulaanbaatar after nine amazing days bouncing around the Mongolian countryside in a 4 wheel drive Russian made van. The group of 5 included myself, a Mongolian driver who spoke just enough English for Comfort, a straight shooting Brit, and an Irish couple who constantly expressed their love for one another through witty affectionate praises and insults.

Our driver, Agee, proved to be a fine man as he skillfully navigated highways more accurately categorized as four wheel drive roads. Pavement is rare, signs rarer, and a road map more or less useless unless you’re Mongolian or have a keen sixth sense.

Two weeks is far too little time for Mongolia. I could easily spend two to three months roaming about the country. Nonetheless, I think I made good use of my time as I happened on a Shamanic ritual, glimpsed a wolf, rode a horse, soaked in a hot spring, hiked a volcano, slept in a Ger, and ate Mutton, Cow and Yak while contemplating an environment that made me think of what the American West might have been like over a hundred years ago.

Thousands of sparsely populated square miles amidst a vast open land of mountains and hills with nomads and livestock sprinkled about provide the backdrop for a lost in time way of life. Gers (yurts), a round canvas tent with sheep’s wool insulation, stove pipe shooting up through the roof middle, and no windows are the preferred shelter of choice. A horse is still your most valued possession and traditional style clothing the norm.

Things have changed little for those living in the wilds of Mongolia. Wilds meaning pretty much the entire country outside of a few cities. The towns are rugged and rough. A hitching post is still a necessity for dirt road simple wood built communities as a horse is the only, if not preferred, transportation for many.

I met Simon, from England, while in Chengdu, China. I met Irish Gary and Sinead in Beijing on the way to catch the train to Mongolia. I hadn’t seen Simon since Chengdu but he just happened to get on the train in the middle of the night at the Mongolia China boarder. Upon arrival in Ulaanbaatar we converged with the same idea in mind. Hire a driver directly to avoid a tour company expense and come up with our own plan. Simon, Gary, and Sinead wanted to be dropped off at Hovsgal Lake after 7 days to trek for a couple of weeks and visit people who raise and ride Reindeer. Within a quick two days, as hoped, we set things up and bought camping supplies. We found our driver with vehicle through the owner of the guest house that I stayed at. It’s amazing how easily these things come together when traveling. We are all seasoned travelers which made quick planning all the more easier.

I considered abandoning my plans for the Trans Siberian railway at the opportunity to spend more time in Mongolia but chose to stick to my original plan and returned to Ulaanbaatar after nine days. Tomorrow I’ll board a train to Russia but for now here are some photos. More stories to follow. I would have posted sooner but believe it or not internet still doesn't exist in some parts of the world.

Into Mongolia

2011-06-10T09:14:00.000-05:00

Just a quick post as I wrap things up to head into the wilds of Mongolia. Tomorrow morning I'll embark on a nine day journey in the company of 3 others. I met Gary and Sinead, an Irish couple, on the subway in Beijing to catch the train to Mongolia. They were headed to Mongolia as well. I met an Englishan by the name of Simon, also known as "Sketch", while in Chengdu, China. He just happened to hop the train to Mongolia in the middle of the night at the China Mongolia boarder the same time I was on the train. I met him again the following morning. These kind of things happen on the backpacker trail. After arriving in Ullanbataar we all reconnected with similar ideas on what we wanted to do so we hired a Mongolian driver and his cool Russian built 4wd van to take us on a journey into the heart of the country.

Actually, the story of how we all came together is kind of funny. When your in the flow and traveling things have an interesting way of working out. After this nine day trip I'll return to Ullanbatar and start to make my way across Russia. I figure from now until Poland I'll be on adventure travel mode and don't expect things to be particularly easy but this is when travel can be the most rewarding. I'm not sure what internet access if any will be available but I'll keep posting as opportunity allows.

Images From Beijing

2011-06-10T08:50:00.000-05:00

Along with my closing post on China I'd like to include some images I took while spending time in Beijing. This is a collection of photos I like for one reason or another.

China - What Do I Think? Closing Thoughts

2011-06-09T22:42:00.001-05:00

So, how did I like China? What do I think of it? Needless to say China is a very interesting place full of history and culture but at times I had mixed feelings about the Chinese people and my experiences within the country.

I spent a lot of time in the countryside and western portions of Yunnan and Sichuan provinces. There is an enormous difference between rural life and city life in China. In the countryside people are very poor and struggle daily within unrelenting third world conditions. In most cities China is well on the way, if not already on par, with Europe and the west. It’s a huge contrast. The fact is that as much as China is changing there are still millions upon millions just working to survive.

The minority and Tibetan people of China were by far my favorite in China. The Tibetans in particular live a very poor life but Buddhism is a big component of their culture. I think this translates into a peace and happiness so many of them appear to display. For the most part I found the Han Chinese to be not particularly friendly and indifferent towards foreigners. Pushing, shoving, cutting in lines, smoking, hacking and spitting were the banes of China for me. Often times I felt ignored or even invisible but the upside is that usually hassle and touts were not much of an issue. Don’t get me wrong. I met plenty of nice Chinese people and not being able to speak the language is always going to create a distance but more than anything I don’t think Han Chinese are particularly happy people.

By time I reached Beijing I was really kind of tired of the Chinese but ten days in the city really improved my opinion. I met plenty of nice people as everyone appeared to be little more happy. I attribute it to the hope that comes with all of the exciting changes taking forth in what I refer to as the New China.

China certainly controls a lot of information and wants people to behave and think in a certain way. However, the China of today is much different than ten years ago and its changing rapidly as it sorts out its own kind of democracy under a socialistic blanket.

For a long time I think China has been a nation of one mind and you can really see it in a lot of the people. It’s almost as if they have blinders on by thinking one way and going one direction with a worker bee mentality. This may be true to the old China but the new China is starting to think for itself.

China gets a lot of flak for controlling information but at the same time it’s allowing huge changes to happen. In a way I can understand why China is so controlling. There are 1.3 billion people. If change happens too quickly and is not well thought out it could be disastrous for the nation and its people. It’s a country where concepts such as consumerism, tourism, and democratic ideas are being introduced for the first time to a people who have never had the option or even a say on the subject. I think it’s a very tricky riddle that China has to delicately navigate. As an American it’s easy to rally for overnight total freedom and democracy complete with free speech and all but America is a culture that’s had it for well over 200 years.

American and Chinese culture is very different. Some may say that China will surpass America and the west. This may be true to a point considering America owes China a ton money and everything in America is made in China but in my opinion the Chinese are not nearly as innovative as Americans. Chinese tend to think too much inside the box. It’s more or less a culture of people doing and thinking along a narrow line. Chinese are the masters of copying, following rules, and working hard but I don’t really see them coming up with a lot of cutting edge products, ideas, or concepts. Not yet at least.

All said, I was impressed on how much China is and has been putting into infrastructure. Even in the poor rural areas amazing new roads are being built as I write. Although I travel without a cell phone I was amazed at how available cellular communications are throughout all of the country. China definitely has a master plan and there are plenty of smart hard working Chinese to make it happen.

It has been said that China is greatly misunderstood by the west and I think that is a fair statement. I can’t say it’s my favorite country or my favorite culture but after two months it definitely began to grow on me as I started to see and understand a little better how the people think and how the country works.

The dark side of China is within the complexities of introducing free enterprise into the Chinese system. The doors are wide open for corruption and exploitation of workers. Dissidents are silenced and people still have to be careful about crossing the line. Other than the great divide between rural life and city life I can’t say I was exposed to much of the dark side of China. I’m sure it exists as it’s a topic of much discussion abroad. With China trading greater sums of product and money corruption is bound to be at an all time high. This is one area where I hope the New China can pull in the reigns otherwise it could ultimately create huge problems for the master plan. At some point justice and fairness have to prevail with a healthy amount of freedom.

It will be interesting to see how China progresses. As an American I see China as a good ally but one we need to be careful with. I say careful in the sense that we need to respect their culture and need to approach problems differently than we do in the west. We need to be very mindful and not too judgmental but at the same time we need to be strong and firm when it comes to political freedoms and fair trade. It’s a delicate balance but I see no reason why China and the West can’t have good positive relations here on out.

In the end I am very happy to have taken the time to get to know a country and culture that plays such a big role in the world we live in today. I’m not sure when I’ll return to China but I’m sure I will someday. I wish China and its people all the best as it roars into the 21st century.

Images From The Trans Mongolian Railway

2011-06-09T06:50:00.001-05:00

Here are some images of my trip on the Trans Mogolian Railway between Beijing and Ullanbataar. The photos include a stop where the wheels were changed and wild camles roaming the Gobi Desert.

Trans Mongolian Railway

2011-06-08T22:51:00.004-05:00

June 7…… Notes from the train as I rolled towards Mongolia

My time Beijing really flew. I spent 10 days in the city and kept plenty busy walking all over and seeing the sights. The last two days I spent with Jenny roaming around the followed by dinner and beers. Other than when I first arrived we only had a chance to meet for one evening before my last two days. Fortunately my last day in Beijing included a Monday with the Dragon Boat National Holiday so Jenny did not have to work. Jenny proved to be great company, an excellent host, and a good friend. I sure we will keep in touch. She’s a traveler as well so I’m certain our paths will cross again.

This morning I boarded Trans Mongolian Train Number 23 a little after 7am at the main Beijing Train Station. I’m now about 9 hours into a 30 hour journey to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. The train is an express with only 8 stops along the way. The lengthiest stop is right at the Chinese border where everyone gets off to go through immigration and customs while the wheels are changed. The rail gauge changes at the Mongolian border.

I’m hoping the border crossing goes smoothly. I’m a little bit of an oddity. For China I’m traveling on a 60 day multiple entry visa while most everyone else travels on a 30 day single entry. I stayed nearly 60 days but have not exceeded 60 days. For Mongolia everyone needs a visa except Americans and Israelis. I double checked with the U.S. State Department yesterday just to make sure because I don’t have a visa. Technically I’m not doing anything wrong but whenever you cross a boarder and the rules are a little different for you, in any kind of way, you just hope the guards are cool, honest, and don’t try any monkey business. The upside is that I’m on a train full of westerners so that should insure a little less chance for problems. It’s when you cross remote borders that don’t see many western tourists that you run the most risk of encountering problems.

The train is really nice. So far I have a 4 bed berth to myself but there’s no guarantee it will remain that way. I believe there is a very good chance quite a few people will get on when we arrive at the first station in Mongolia at 1:15 am. Right now practically everyone on board is a westerner. If you ride the train from Beijing to Ulaanbaatar the ticket is quite expensive at a little less than $200 USD. If you pick up the train up at or just across the border it’s dramatically cheaper. Some backpackers bus to the boarder then catch the train at the first Mongolian stop. I don’t know what the exact savings is but I think it’s quite a bit and well worth the hassle for a budget conscious traveler. With a much lower ticket price just inside Mongolia I suspect there will be quite a few Mongolians and Chinese getting on but I really don’t know. Maybe my luck will continue and I’ll have the berth all to myself all the way.

So far the ride has been great. The scenery is wide open and the skies are mostly clear and blue. I've spent quite a bit of time visiting with and older Australian couple in the berth next to me. They’ve been doing the backpacker travel thing together since the mid 1970’s and have been all over the world. We had a good time most of the day swapping stories. Aussies are usually always good company. Well, I think I’ll get back to scanning view as we roll down the rails to Mongolia.

June 9… Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia…..

I arrived in Ulaanbaatar right on time at 1:20 pm yesterday. The border crossings were a breeze on both sides. Everything was efficiently handled aboard the train as immigration, customs, police and military boarded, looked around, and collected passports. It was handled in a straight forward fashion. No problems whatsoever. The actual train ride was beautiful. Lots of wide open country, wild camels, nomads on horses and traditional camps sprinkled around the middle of nowhere. We picked up very few passnegers along the way and I retained the 4 person berth all to myself for the entire journey.

I was happy to see a friendly stout Mongolian man with a printed paper displaying my name upon arrival at the Ulaanbaatar train station. I had booked accommodation in advance via the internet before leaving Beijing through hostel bookers dot com because I figured after 30 hours on a train in a new country I’d be a little out of it. I wanted an easy arrival void of touts etc… The man picked me up along with a couple of young woman from the Faroe Islands who have been traveling India and Asia since January.

We were taken to an old cold war soviet built cement apartment complex right in the middle of the city. It looks pretty rough on the outside. One of the women commented that she hoped it was a lot better on the inside. I just figured we would take a look and if it were not to our liking then we would go somewhere else. The Mongolian man took us around a corner to a darkened entry and punched a few numbers on an antiquated security lock securing a beat up metal door with broken handle. We entered and climbed worn cement stairs a few floors to a printed piece of paper taped to another metal door marking the Mongolian Steppe Guest House. He knocked and it was opened by a very friendly 30 something Mongolian woman who speaks good English. She warmly greeted us as we entered the small yet cozy clean 2 bedroom flat. I immediately got a good feeling upon entering. The woman, whose name is Iggy made us feel right at home.

The 2 bedrooms are small but kind of appealing. The living room contains 4 bunks and is set up as a mixed dorm/community area. The bathroom is small but modernized and shared by everyone. The kitchen is tiny but offers the ability to cook your own food. I booked a single for $14 USD a night. The room is quite comfortable, reasonably quiet and has a view across a courtyard with a small park and parking area. All the buildings in the area were built by the Soviets during the 1950’s and 60’s. Since I‘m old enough to remember the cold war era I’m kind of getting a kick out it. Even though the building is ugly I find it to be kind of charming and am very comfortable there. The location is hard to beat.

What’s interesting about the guest house is that it just happens to be a favorite for U.S. Peace Corps volunteers when they come in from the field to take time off in Ulaanbaatar. Right now 6 of them are staying there. They’re all in their twenties and some of them are based in some really remote areas. For them the Guest House is like heaven and I've been enjoying their stories.

So far I haven’t seen much of Ulaanbaatar but I’m kind of surprised at how much western influence is here. There are many restaurants and coffee houses opened by expats or Mongolians who have spent time in the west and returned to their homeland to open up western influenced businesses. Last night I had an excellent pasta meal at a smart looking restaurant called “The Brooklyn”. Obviously it had a New York theme and the décor. It was decorated in a way you might find in New York. I washed dinner down with a locally brewed dark beer produced by a small local brewery run by Germans.

Ulaanbaatar seems quite cosmopolitan with basic English commonly spoken. However, the post soviet architecture along with the fact that you are in the middle of Mongolia surrounded by nomads causes Ulaanbaatar to retain a rough character. Despite progressive looking restaurants and sharp looking businesses there is plenty of 3rd world poverty to go around. Outlying sections of the city are full of Ger (yurts – traditional tent like housing). Although Ger camps provide an attractive and interesting place to visit in the countryside they serve as slums near the city.

Traveling outside the cities of Mongolia can be difficult and time consuming but it’s really what visiting Mongolia is all about. Today I need to figure out how to join some other backpackers and come up with something. There are not many roads in Mongolia and few are paved. Mostly people get around via 4wd drive or horse if they really want to get out to experience some real nomadic culture and beauty of the backcountry. If a travler has the time there are local busses but they are slow, packed, and schedules are not set in stone. Anyway, I need to sort out something and at this point I’ll just see what’s happening now. I only plan to spend a couple of weeks in Mongolia otherwise I’d be tempted to hop busses for what would certainly be an authentic adventure but I don’t want to waste too much time.

Those Odd Foreigners At Helens

2011-06-04T19:56:00.000-05:00

The past week in Beijing has flown by. My routine has gone something like this. Wake up 7:30. Exit hotel at 8:30 and pay for another night on the way out. Walk 3 minutes to western backpacker bar/restaurant. Order western style breakfast with the music of Jack Johnson in one ear and traditional music from the Tibetan shop across the street in the other ear. Finish breakfast with a cup of coffee, write and/or surf the web until 11 am. Return to hotel for a short pit stop then roam, mostly walk, around the city all afternoon.

Back at the hotel around 5 or so for another pit stop then return to western backpacker bar/restaurant where I sit out front sipping a Tsingtao beer and debate ordering Chinese or western food for dinner. People watch for the rest of the evening.

The establishment I’ve been frequenting is called Helen’s. It’s a typical atmospheric kind of bar restaurant commonly found in the west but an oddity in China unless you’re in an area that caters to foreigners. It’s the only place like it in a sea of Chinese businesses geared for Chinese tourists. What’s funny is that Chinese can’t help but stop and curiously look inside. It’s not uncommon for them to stop and take photos of the odd looking foreigners sipping their beer and eating their pizza. Of course Chinese are more than welcome to come in for food and drink but they appear intimidated by a seemingly exclusive crowd of westerners speaking English, French, Spanish, German, Hebrew, with just a little bit of broken Mandarin.

The other night I saw a Chinese man with his girlfriend. He stopped and seemed to be fixated on Helen's back bar lined with numerous liquor bottles. He wanted so bad to go in. His girlfriend was literally pulling him away. This back and forth thing went on for awhile. He was obviously a go for it guy but she was far too uncomfortable with the prospect. It was quite entertaining seeing who was going to win but in the end the girlfriend got her way as they drifted off down the street.

Often times I avoid the places specifically geared for westerners but at other times it’s nice to order familiar food and easily strike up a conversation in English if I feel like it. The prices are only slightly more than the local places. However, sometimes Helen's can be a little over the top. Last night I left when they started playing the movie soundtrack to Grease. I think it was the couple who started singing along that ran me off.

Strange Noodle Goop Sauce - Righting a Wrong

2011-06-04T19:18:00.001-05:00

The first night I was in Beijing I decided to have dinner at an authentic local restaurant. I browsed the menu and passed on the deep fried Duck Heads and ordered a local noodle dish. When my food arrived it was not what I had in mind. It was a large bowl of warm noodles with cold thin sliced radish and misc. vegetables which was fine but what caught me off guard was the sauce. The sauce resembled thick oily burnt axle grease. At least that’s the first thought that came to mind when I saw it. I immediately lost my appetite and rejected it firmly and decisively. Without giving it a chance I got up, paid, and left.

When traveling Asia it’s a given that at times you will order one thing only to receive something completely different than what you expect. The proper traveler way to react is to accept it and give it a chance. What really bothered me about the meal I rejected was that I was so closed to it and didn’t at least give it a try. I’ve been pretty good about navigating odd foods in Asia so in a way I felt like I kind of failed a test.

Over the next day or two I noticed other places serving up the strange burnt axle grease looking paste and realized it was popular with the locals. It bugged me even more that I didn’t try it previously so the other night I returned to the restaurant of rejected noodles and ordered the same exact thing I passed on before.

Upon close examination the noodles with veggies atop looked very healthy. As before, I was served a generous side dish of axle grease goop and mixed about half of it into the noodle veggie mix. I then thoughtlessly dug in not really thinking about what could be in the mystery paste. I would have asked but no one could speak English. Actually, probably best not to ask.

The taste? Palatable but not particularly appetizing. The swigs of cheap beer in between bites helped me get through most all of the contents contained within the large bowl. With most of the food consumed I declared it a personal victory and felt much better about being open to the oddities of foreign food and culture. I righted a wrong and felt much less like a tourist and more like a traveler.

Take a Chance on a Blank Sheet of Paper

2011-06-04T19:12:00.000-05:00

There was once a famous writer who commented that his greatest fear was staring at a blank sheet of paper. Since starting this blog I’d say my style of writing and interest thereof has fluctuated. While at home, working through a day to day average routine, I have little desire to write. I’ll sometimes ponder a more philosophical think piece but then I’ll wrestle with the issues of continuity and how it will be received once posted on the web for all of the world to see. I’ll criticize the holes in my own philosophy and fear a misrepresentation of self if I take the chance of being misunderstood. It’s funny how a person can accidently and inaccurately present oneself by comments or explanations inadvertently delivered out of context and character. Abstract ideas and concepts, no matter how clearly delivered, are always subject to be interpreted in many different ways. The artist will always be criticized no matter what.

To be a master sculptor or painter of one’s own life the greatest triumphs are realized when one takes a chance. Playing it safe can be stifling. I guess that’s why I’ve chosen an unorthodox lifestyle. I’m driven to see the view from the top of the mountain, feel the wind on my face, and see what’s around the corner beyond the next corner.

Taking a chance may entail quitting a job you really don’t like in exchange for the wide open possibility of anything can happen, or, it could be buying that ticket and taking a trip to a place you’ve always wanted to see. It could also be talking to that person you have been meaning to talk to for the last year or taking an acting class you’ve been curious about forever. Taking a chance doesn’t have to be extreme but it should be something that challenges ones own level of comfort. As I always say, “You should never let yourself get too comfortable”.

A blank sheet of paper can be an adventure in of itself. Often times the artist has no idea where the first letter, stroke of ink, or splatter of paint will take them. The sketchbook of life can sit empty upon the shelf of procrastination or it can be a catalyst for unimaginable possibility.

Perhaps I am good at taking a chance on life in the arena of adventure and travel but maybe I need to take more of a chance in the realm of writing and philosophy. After all, I have declared myself a “World Traveler and Thinker”. The crux is battling the inner critic that blocks the gateway of potential.

Take a chance on a blank sheet of paper……

The Great Wall... Jinshanling Section

2011-06-03T05:41:00.002-05:00

No trip to China is complete without a visit to the Great Wall. At one time the wall extended god knows how many miles. It was somewhere around 2,000 miles long if I'm not mistaken.

Today it's understandably a major tourist attraction. Some sections have simply vanished while other sections have been totally re-done and rebuilt for tourism. I was looking for an authentic section that hasn't really been tampered with but is still in good enough condition for a nice walk.

The Jinshanling/Samatai sections are favored by those seeking a more authentic yet accessible segment of wall. It takes about 3 hours by bus to reach the area and is well worth the trip. There's a backpacker style tour that runs daily out of Beijing. It's a pretty good deal. They pick you up at your hotel at 6 am and drive you right up to a park where the wall can be accessed. Your then given 4 hours to walk on your own. Afterwards your bussed back to the city.

Upon accessing the wall if you walk to the west the its been repaired and restored but if you walk to the east it remains authentic and in reasonably good condition. Void of much if any reapir.

The wall snakes along the top of a ridgeline so the views are excellent the entire way.. There are plenty of other people walking the Jinshanling section but its not overrun by too many. I saw very few Chinese tourists. The Chinese tend to prefer restored, refurbished, or even faux as opposed to Westerners who prefer authentic and rough around the edges. Jinshanling is authentic and rough around the edges.

Upon returning to Beijing the tour operator was successful at convincing most everyone to get off the bus in exchange for the subway during rush hour. I, as well as a few others, were smart enough not to fall for that one. The tour guide was a bit perturbed because they had to burn a little more gas and time dropping a few off like they were supposed to anyway. The subway in Beijing gets so packed during rush hour that city employs people to push passengers in so the doors can close. The air conditioned mini van seemed more appealing and was.

Here are few photos from my day on the wall.

Enjoying Beijing

2011-06-03T04:56:00.000-05:00

June 2

I’m really enjoying my time in Beijing. Beijing is proving to be a great city. I’m generally not too much of a city person when I travel but I do like to drop into one from time to time and more often than not it’s unavoidable when relying on public transportation. Also, I feel it to be a necessity to visit the larger places along the way in order to get an accurate impression of all that makes up a country and its society.

Beijing really is like visiting a different country in comparison to the rural areas and countryside that make up so much of China. Beijing is more a less a modern western city riding a wave of rapid change with a Chinese twist. It’s a city where western ways and Chinese culture appear to blend together nicely. Young people from all over China, excited by the prospect of change and opportunity, flock to Beijing for a chance to grab a rare slice of pie not easily found elsewhere in the nation. I have not been to Shanghai but my guess is it’s a similar story there as well.

Thus far in Beijing I’ve visited the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven Park, Mao’s Mausoleum and took a relatively long day trip out of the city to see an authentic section of The Great Wall. My time is passing quickly and I’m taking a relaxed approach towards seeing the sights. Once I leave Beijing I’ll be on the move a lot so there’s no real reason to push it for now. Next Tuesday I’ll board a train for Mongolia and step back into some more adventurous travel.

With nice wide roads, clean streets, and an extensive subway and bus system, Beijing is easy to navigate. However, transit time can be a little lengthy. Also, Beijing has the nicest and most normal toilets I’ve seen in China. It may sound funny but in some ways you can asses China’s progress and change by the quality of public facilities in any given region. Western China and the rural areas have a lot of catching up to do.

The only hitch to staying so long in Beijing is that it’s really eating into the travel budget. I’d say I’m now spending twice as much daily as I was everywhere else I’ve been in China. For example, my accommodation in Beijing is costing around $28 USD. Throughout the rest of China I was paying between $12 to $16 USD for a similar setup. If I really wanted to save I could go for a hostel dorm but even dorms in Beijing cost twice as much as elsewhere in China.

My hotel room is a clean and simple single with bathroom, internet connection, and TV with one English news channel. For a budget oriented hotel the standard is quite high and it’s well maintained. The newly remodeled rooms are done in a European Contemporary fashion and the location is fantastic. The establishment doesn’t really cater to foreigners but foreigners are more than welcome. The staff is nice, friendly, and some speak English. Not all hotels in the city are allowed to accept foreigners as they have to be registered and licensed to do so in Beijing.

Again, I followed my rule of using the Lonely Planet guidebook to find a location then sought out accommodation not listed in the book. You generally find a much better value at places that don’t get overrun by the publicity of being in a guidebook. More often than not when a backpacker joint gets noted in a guidebook the quality goes down and the prices go up.

Well, it’s 11 am so I think it’s about time to rally. I’ll stroll a park or two and am quite curious about the nearby Police Museum. Such is the life of a, “World Traveler and Thinker”. Yes, as always, I am a VERY Lucky Man……..

Now In Beijing

2011-05-29T19:45:00.000-05:00

Just ten minutes from Tiananmen Square and the resting place of Mao Zedong is a street lined with alleys and the hotel where I’m residing. A two minute walk, out my accommodation, to the right finds me in a bar/restaurant/hostel that caters to westerners. The American breakfast I had this morning was pretty good so I returned for dinner. The excellent wifi doesn’t hurt as well.

Latin rhythms and reggae fill the air and over power the contemporary Chinese tunes faintly blowing across the street. Beijing is a modern, clean, sophisticated city and compared to most other places I’ve been in China it’s like being in a different country.

When I arrived yesterday (Saturday), via train ride from Xian, I was very happy to be greeted by my friend Jenny who I met in India almost two years ago. She’s a part of the new China. Young, very intelligent, multilingual, well traveled, etc.,. Having been on the train for 13 hours with broken sleep and fighting a cold it was nice not to have to think upon arrival. She graciously figured out which bus to take from the station and patiently helped me locate desirable accommodation. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer introduction to Beijing.

Beijing is a cool city regardless of whatever one’s opinion of China is. There’s plenty to do here and I like the vibe. It’s a good thing considering I plan to spend over a week in the city before heading to Mongolia. Tiananmen Square is probably the coolest square I’ve ever been to. I suppose it’s all the history that’s unfolded upon the premises that leaves a significant impression. The square is sandwiched between the Mausoleum where Mao Zedong sleeps and the Forbidden City. The vastness of the area offers a nice open feeling with a strong breeze powerfully flying the red flag of China at the North end.

I also find the people in Beijing to be a little more open and friendlier than in other regions of China. I suppose it’s the rhythm of the city that offers something new and fresh at any given time. Whatever it is, it’s nice.

In the evening Jenny and I walked around Tiananmen Square and talked about China and traveling. Jenny is a traveler herself with a passion for India and dreams of visiting many other places.

Today, Sunday, I can’t say I did much. Jenny met me in the afternoon and we went to pick up my ticket for the train to Mongolia but the office was already closed. I must pick up the ticket tomorrow or I’ll lose it so I that’s my number one priority right now. Unfortunately, Jenny wasn’t feeling well. I hope I didn’t pass along my cold. We called it a short visit and I toured a railroad museum later in the afternoon. It’s likely one of many museums I’ll stumble upon while in Beijing.

For now I feel like I’m starting to catch a second wind. I feel considerably better this evening and am confident I'm on the backside of the cold I contracted. A sore throat that kind of plagued me for a week seems to have abated. Last night I slept great. Sleep is always the best medicine when I’m Ill.

As of late I obviously feel like I haven’t been making the best use of time so I intend to get a little more organized about what I’m doing. I can go like a mad dog and do a lot in a given amount of time but at some point I get tired and come down with a case of the lazies. Fortunately the lazy feeling never lasts too long. I see many miles of city walking in the immediate future.

Terracotta Warriors

2011-05-29T08:56:00.002-05:00

“It’s a long way to the entrance, 3 km, it’s takes at least thirty minutes to walk there.” Basic travel 101, never trust information from a tout. However, if you’re down with a cold the brain doesn’t work as well. I paid 5 Yuan (80 cents) for a shuttle ticket because I didn’t feel like walking 2 miles to the entrance to see the Terracotta Warriors.

I got my ticket punched and joined a 6 foot wide pushing and shoving mass of tourists for almost 30 minutes knowing all along I was being stupid. Finally, I got on the environmentally friendly oversized battery operated golf cart and enjoyed a relaxing 2 minute ride to the entrance of the famed Terracotta Warriors. 3km? It would have been an easy ten minute walk for a blind man following a whistle.

Ok, in a nutshell, the actual Terracotta Warriors and the archeological find are incredibly cool and amazing. However, the way it’s set up and the overabundance of tour groups greatly distracts from experiencing the site. There’s something artificial about it even though it’s real. Kind of hard to describe.

Refurbished clay warriors neatly aligned in rows beneath a state of the art constructed warehouse style canopy made me feel more like I was walking into a special affects sound stage at Paramount Studios than a world famous archeological site. In a way I kept asking myself if the warriors were real or imitation. After all, practically everything in China is a knockoff fake. At the site everything is so set up and staged. Even the stuff that’s not supposed to look set up.

The actual find consists of over 7,000 clay warriors and some incredibly amazing bronzes of horses and chariot etc. Quite unbelievable. They were all created under the order of Emperor Qin Shi Huang who felt the items and soldiers would help him in the afterlife.

Qin Shi Huang died suddenly and shortly thereafter his empire was overthrown by a peasant uprising. The mausoleum that housed the warriors was destroyed and everything lay to rest for over 2,000 years. In 1974 a farmer digging a well unearthed what I believe was a terracotta warrior head and the rest is history. Quite remarkable actually.

I think if you were to visit the site in the early days of discovery it would have been beyond amazing but now there’s something odd about the site. I suppose if you are lucky enough to visit when not many people are around it would be a nicer experience but for me it was really kind of hard to enjoy with so many tourists. Especially since I had my idiot hat on in the beginning and stood in that ridiculous line for almost 30 minutes! What a racket…..

Oh well, the bottom line is that if you’re in Xian, you gotta go,,,, Regardless…….

Juizhaiguo National Park - China

2011-05-26T06:39:00.005-05:00

Although I really didn't enjoy the trip for these pictures, Juizhaiguo is a beautiful place. The most special attribute are its waterfalls. I forgot to mention in the previous post that it snowed the night before and I was able to get a few snow shots before it quickly melted by late morning.

Backed Up Blog Posts - China Update

2011-05-26T06:25:00.003-05:00

May 21

After 4 nights in Chengdu I figured I was due to be moving on. I spent my time there getting off to a leisurely start and walked approximately 4 hours a day for the 3 days I was in the city. I strolled the streets passing through parks and visiting sights. Aside of the walks I really didn’t do much but visit with other travelers at the Hostel Café located behind the Hotel I was staying at.

Some might say a 4 hour walk around a city doesn’t qualify for a rest day. I’m a very easy going person and don’t consider myself to be type A but one thing is for sure, I always like to be doing something. I’ve always had a difficult time sleeping in per se. I guess a rest day for me is a day when I do less, or get less accomplished, than normal.

This morning finds me in Juizhaigou village right next to the entrance of the Juizhaiguo Nature Reserve. It was another 10 hour bus ride to get here but the roads are good. Eastern Sichuan is a lot different than the western portion of the province. Roads are well maintained, streets are clean, there’s not near as much garbage about, and the public toilets are relatively considerably better.

Juizhaigou is a Unesco World Heritage site and is supposed to be an incredible natural wonder. The upside for it being a World Heritage Site is that a lot of money has been pumped into properly managing the reserve. The down side is, well, guess what? Chinese tourists flock to it by the thousands to pay an outrageously high entrance fee for a chance to snap photos of one another posing next to a lake or waterfall.

The entrance fee really is absurdly high. It costs 220 Yuan plus another 80 Yuan for a bus you really do need to use. The fee equates to $45 USD for one day. You must pay the fee each day you want to visit the park. For comparison, a car load can buy a week long entrance to Yosemite National Park in California for $20 USD, or, an annual pass for $40 USD. Buy a Gold Eagle Pass for American National Parks, which I think costs around $75 for the year, and you can come and go as much as you what to any National Park in America. Not to mention some of the American National Parks are pretty darned outrageously beautiful and totally unique to the rest of the world.

I awoke this morning to steady rain so I chose not enter the park because tomorrow is supposed to be much nicer. I’m staying at a guest house that caters to western backpackers and there a number of other travelers here. A group of Chinese decided to enter the reserve today despite the rain but the rest of us have decided to wait it out.

As far as high and wild travel goes I think I’m done for the reminder of my time in China. I’ll depart China on June 7 and plan to pass through Xian for a stop on my way to Beijing. I’ll spend my remaining time in Beijing until leaving for Mongolia. Aside of some long bus and train rides I expect the travel to be pretty easy for the next couple of weeks. Overall, China has been much easier to travel than anticipated.

May 24

Internet access in China has been difficult. Due to the amount of user traffic and Chinese control over internet information it can be quite hard to access the net via wi-fi at any time. Sometimes it’s just luck that you can even get on to check your email. Once you’re on it may only work for a little while before being inaccessible for the rest of the day. Since my blog is blocked I need a proxy to access it. Sometimes the proxy works but a lot of the time it doesn’t. It’s been quite frustrating and I haven’t really been able to find a flow for the blog as on other trips.

I’ve also kind of lost my rhythm in the flow of travel. The initial rest days in Chengdu were good. Perhaps I should have stayed another day or two. Such is the case whenever you leave a place you kind of like at a given time. You always look back and think you should have stayed a little longer.

The excursion to Juizhaiguo was one I wish I hadn’t taken. It first entailed a 10 hour bus ride. The following day was cold and rainy so I just hung out. Fortunately the next day was nice and clear but I paid a crazy price for admission and mindlessly followed another traveler which led to a poor use of time. In turn I had little opportunity to see some unique waterfalls which are the main attraction in my opinion. For the final day I endured another 10 hour bus ride back to Chengdu. I came down with some kind of sinus problem/infection the day I left for Juizhaiguo which just added to a loss of enjoyment. Not to mention there were plenty of high impact Chinese tourists to enhance the experience.

While returning to Chengdu I developed probably the worst case I’ve ever had of a stuffed up ear due to elevation change. Once back in the city rechecked into the hotel I had stayed at previously and called it an early night. I fell asleep totally exhausted and deaf in the left ear. Definitely a travel low and one of those days you just feel like packing it in and heading home.

Juizhaiguo is quite beautiful but nothing too special in my opinion outside of the waterfalls. The waterfalls are really wonderful but given the cost of admission, tons of tourist, and hassle getting there it wasn’t worth it for me. For another traveler it might be different. A Chinese tourist away for a long weekend with a bag full of cigarettes, an 8 gig camera card and his favorite loud buddies might find it to be a trip of a lifetime. I’ve spent a lot of time in some outrageously beautiful places in the past so my personal standards and expectations are probably a bit different than most.

As of late I feel like I’ve been wasting time as I obviously haven’t been enjoying myself the past few days like I feel I ought to. Such is life and things can’t be perfect all the time. The plan now is to leave tomorrow morning for Xian to see of the Terracotta Warriors. From there I’ll press on to Beijing.

I’ll now be doing most of my travel by train. I’m pretty tired of long distance busses. The intention is to ride the rails all the way from Chengdu, China to Western Europe. One leg at a time, buying tickets as I go. I’ll pay a little more, when reasonably affordable, for a better berth or seat. I’ll also take night trains to avoid having to pay for accommodation along the way.

May 25

This will surely be another dated blog post but what the heck. Not sure when I’ll be able to update my blog again. I’m currently riding the rails on a long 19 hour trip to Xian from Chengdu. I made the wise choice to pay extra for a soft sleeper which is essentially a 4 bed berth with a door as opposed to a 6 person berth without a door. I’m sharing it with a nice young Chinese couple who are students. One speaks some English. It’s much more comfortable, there’s less riff raff, and it’s a lot quieter than hard sleeper.

The sinus problem I developed last week seems to evolved into some kind of a cold or something. Although I don’t feel particularly good I don’t feel all that bad either. It’s no surprise I’d pick something up considering all the bus rides, weather changes, tons of people, and the bad air of industrial China.

I had originally intended to do a 3 day hike up a series of mountains to some temples before leaving the Chengdu area. Considering how I’ve been feeling and the problem I had with my ear the other day I decided to head on to Xian sooner than later which I think is the right choice.

Being on a train for a long period of time is kind of like being on a boat at sea. The only thing I don’t like is that on nicer train cars you don’t have many options for opening a window. On a boat you can always fill your lungs with fresh air and bathe your face in the wind. Nonetheless, having chosen the upgraded berth allows me to relax and gives my body a chance to kick whatever kind of bug I’m dealing with while still getting from point A to B.

While in Xian I’ll go and see the famous Terracotta Warriors and hopefully be able to hop a train to Beijing for the weekend. I’ll be spending a good week in Beijing before heading to Mongolia. I hope to find some comfortable accommodation in Beijing where I can relax. When I’m not feeling well or am in a stressful city I don’t mind paying a little more for accommodation.

All in all I’d say China has been an experience of mixed reviews and I’ll save my final opinion for later. There are some things I like about China but plenty things I don’t care for. Most notably the cigarette smoking that has bothered me here more than any other place I’ve ever traveled. 300 million Chinese smoke. Also, Western China gets the award for nastiest toilets I’ve ever seen. Worse than India. Naturally, when you’re on the road and not feeling up to par a lot of things are not going to come across in the most positive way.

While in Beijing I’m looking forward to visiting a Chinese woman who I met on a train while traveling India almost two years ago. As is the case you meet people from all over the world when you travel and sometimes you actually keep in touch. Such is the case with Jenny. She’s a part of the new China. A young professional with a masters in linguistics and speaks very good English.

There is also a couple who I went to college with who now reside in Beijing that I haven’t seen in years. I hope to catch up with them but they’ve been difficult to track down. I don’t anticipate it’s too likely I’ll see them but there’s still a chance I suppose.

From here on out its Terracotta Warriors, The Great Wall, The Forbidden City, and catching up with a friend or two with rest in between……

May 26
I arrived in Xian at 5:30 am this morning. I finally gave into denial and declared myself officially sick when I realized I had lost my voice overnight while restlessly trying to sleep on the train. At this point I’m deeming my illness a bad cold with runny nose, sore throat and general malaise. Once out of the train station I celebrated my sorry state with a McDonald’s coffee. It was just enough to rally the required energy for finding some accommodation.

I checked into a cavernous single room with private bath in the basement level of a pseudo nice hostel. Somehow it seems oddly appropriate and comfortable. There’s a TV with one English news channel and the air from the air conditioner seems remarkably clean. So far I haven’t smelled any cigarettes and I’m praying I’ll go the night without the background odor of second hand smoke so prevalent in China.

I walked around a little this afternoon trying to figure out how I’d get to Beijing by Sunday but somehow a 10 minute walk felt like a little too much so I’ve hardly done a thing all day. The good news is that I think my faucet nose is slowing down and I think I have a decent chance for a good nights sleep.

I still plan to go see some Ricotta, I mean, Terracotta soldiers soon. If I want to avoid a bait and switch tour complete with pimps pushing “Rare” jade I’ll need to hop a couple of buses on my own… I’ll see how I feel in the morning……

Pit Stop Chengdu - Travel Fatigue

2011-05-17T00:36:00.001-05:00

The ten hour bus ride from Litang to Kangding was very uncomfortable. The roads were rough and bumpy as we crossed over several passes well above 4,000 meters. The worst part were the surprise pot holes that lifted me off the seat and slammed me back onto my rear thus aggravating an already sore lower back. I began feeling a bit nauseous towards the end of the journey as we topped the last pass through thick fog and snow.

By time I arrived in Kangding I was feeling totally exhausted. Bus rides, foreign culture, cigarette smoke, unfamiliar places, nasty Chinese toilets, language difficulties, odd food, etc., etc., were all taking its toll. I call it cultural travel fatigue. Anyone who ventures within a foreign country for an extended length of time is bound to have a case of it. The cure? Go someplace for a few days that’s clean and comfortable, find a good place to stay, hang out with other westerners, and eat whatever western food you can. Also, plan to do nothing and avoid busses and public transportation. In 3 to 4 days you should be ready to go again.

Although I was feeling totally exhausted I boarded another bus the following day (yesterday) for Chengdu. When I arrived at the station to buy my ticket there was no one in line. The lady at the counter had minus zero patience and immediately grew quite angry with me as I fumbled through my phrase book to make sure I got on a bus with a toilet. I had been a little sick the night before so I wasn’t sure how I was going to do on the bus ride.

The whole ticket buying process probably took around 3 minutes and by time I left I think the lady was about to blow a gasket. As one traveler put it, “When you arrive in Kangding you will know your back in China”. I’d been spending quite a bit of time in Tibetan regions which are very different from the Han regions. Han Chinese make up the vast majority of Chinese culture.

It cost me 10 Yuan more to be on a nicer bus with a toilet. Also, I was shocked and overwhelmed with joy to see that the bus was non smoking. The driver still smoked but everyone else abided by the non smoking rule which was a miracle. In China I think just about every male smokes and does it as they please. The cigarettes they smoke are cheap and disgusting with second hand smoke that literally makes a non smoker want to puke. What’s really interesting though is that I have not seen one single woman smoke. I predict someday women will take over China as all of the men will die young and impotent.

The bus ride to Chengdu was nice and smooth. Aside of a short section of construction the roads were paved. Partway through the ride a nice young Chinese man sat next to me wanting to practice his English. The only drawback was his bad breath but I was able to find out what bus station I’d arrive at so I could accurately decipher my Lost Planet (Lonely Planet) guidebook.

As we rounded into the Bus Station at Chengdu I noticed a tourist information center like you might see in Europe. This is a rarity in China and the first one I’ve seen. Instead of roaming around the city looking for the right accommodation I decided to inquire first. I was happy to find a nice pleasant Chinese woman there who spoke some English. She happily made a couple of calls for me and in the end recommended a hotel right around the corner from the Bus Station. She said it was good and many foreigners stayed there.

I checked into a simple spotlessly clean single with air con and shared bathroom across the hall. The bathroom is super clean and on par with the finest western standards. All for the price 80 Yuan per night which converts to around $12.25. It’s very comfortable and I like it a lot. Right behind the hotel is a hostel that caters to westerners and has a café with a good variety of western food at backpacker prices. There’s also a pleasant common area for travelers to chill and hangout. So, I’ve got the comfort and quality of a nice hotel with the benefits of a backpacker hostel all in one. Perfect! Just what I need right now.

As for Chengdu it’s a world away from where I’ve been and I haven’t really been in city since Kunming. Chengdu represents the new China. Lots of well educated young professionals, modern conveniences, clean streets and sidewalks, etc. etc… Despite being the 5th largest city in China it seems pretty relaxed and has a good feel. I originally planned to skirt around Chengdu but right now I’m happy to spend 3 or 4 days here.

Litang - Western Sichuan, China

2011-05-14T06:59:00.009-05:00

Litang is a rough and dirty Tibetan town full of character and the friendliest people I’ve met in China. It took me a day and a half to get here via buses over rough moutain passes but the roads were better than expected. I spent a night in Xiancheng along the way. The scenery has been high and spectacular. Litang is over 12,000 feet in elevation. Western Sichuan is wild country.

Aside of the hacking, spitting, and smoking, not to mention the dust, the bus trip to get to Litang was good. I thought I might be the only westerner on the bus but there were a few others. I met one German, one Dutch, and three Israelis on the ride over. All of us seeking a less touristy more authentic China experience.

There’s nothing touristy about Litang. It’s been referred to as a Tibetan Wild West. Nomads live in the hills and men who look more Native American than Chinese ride around on motorcyles wearing cowboy style hats. Traditional clothing is common and Tibetan Bhuddism is very a much a part of day to day life. It’s very common to see people walking around with spinning prayer wheel in hand.

When I first arrived it was raining. A dirty, mostly vacant main street made me wonder what I was doing here. Early in the afternoon it cleared and a short walk later I immediately began to like the place. As I strolled around I was greeted often. When I asked to take a photo people smiled and posed unlike most everywhere else where no one wants their photo taken. It’s a sign that the locals aren’t too accustomed or tired of tourists.

My afternoon walk took me up to a Monestary as I walked with the German and two Israelis I met on the the bus. We continued beyond the monestary up anohter 1,000+ feet or so to a hill like mountain top decorated with prayer flags for a grandstand view.

More Mountain Roads and Local Busses

2011-05-11T04:54:00.009-05:00

Today and yesterday have been rest days in Shangri-la. Internet access has been really tough so forgive me of any repititious continuity flaws of the last three posts. Today I went on a nice walk up to a large Tibetan temple as monks went about their daily chores.

Tomorrow I will head off on a two day 400 km bus journey over what is suupposed to be spectacular mountain scenery. I'll be leaving Yunnan for the spicey province of Sichuan. My destination for this segment is Litaing.

I don't think many western travelers follow the route I'll be taking. Most backtrack to Kunming and head up to Chengdu but that seems rather uninteresting in comparison to the high wide open country near the Tibetan boarder. The first day takes around 9 hours to get to a village for a night. The next day takes around 5 to 6 hours to get to Litaing. I question if I'll see any other westerners until Litaing but you never know.

I'm not sure what to expect or what the roads are like. There's only one bus a day that leaves at 8 am. I'm sure I'll be packed in with a load of locals for an authentic better or worse experience. Yes, the real western China. Isn't that what I'm looking for?

The Short Report - More Words and Photos From The Himalaya

2011-05-11T04:35:00.004-05:00

I'm now back in Shangri-la after week away in the Chinese Himalaya of far western Yunnan province near the boarder of Tibet. The journey began with a 10 hour bus ride along exposed mountain roads passing over 5000 metres 3 times on the way to Deqin. From there it’s a couple of local taxi rides along bumpy mountain roads to the the entrance of Meili Snow Moutain National park.

First I visited Mingyon Glacier before moving on to a steep long climb over an impressive pass into a valley resembling what I’d imagine Shangri-la to be really be like. Glacieated peaks scraping the sky above 6000 meters with valleys falling into Upper and Lower Yuebang villages. Aside of an occasional satellite dish and cell phones with unbelievable reception, little has changed.

You can only reach the Tibetan Yuebang villages by horse or foot and it takes 6 to 8 hours depending. Stroll down the single lane of that passes through each community and your very likely to be dodging yaks, horses, pigs, chickens, an odd pesky duck and the by product of digestion thereof.

I spent 3 nights in the Valley in the company of 4 others. A South African couple, a young woman from England, and a young professional from Shanghai. I would only see 3 other westerners, two French and one other Brit. The only people who really know about the the area are Chinese and they tend to be a little more adventurous side because its not an easy area to get to.

This has been this highlight of my Chinese travels thus far and is really more of what I’m interested in. Here are some photos of the people I hiked with as well as villagers along the way.

Trekking In The Himalaya Of China

2011-05-11T03:50:00.004-05:00

We crossed the mighty Mekong on the way up to a trail upon the slopes of 6,700 meter Kawa Karpo. Our first hike took us up to Min Yong Glacier where we gained close access via a creative route built of scaffolding and boardwalk. A good days walk brought us up and back to the village below where we hired transportation that delivered us an hour later to a bunkhouse turned primitive hostel with no toilets and a nearby puddle of a hot spring.

We dined on fried noodles and weak beer while pigs and Yaks milled about. Later in the evening a band of Tibetan pilgrims arrived and invited us to join them for Yak butter tea before turning in between dirty blankets to keep us warm in the cold damp air.

In the morning we were greeted by clear skies and a steep long climb while dodging streamers of prayer flags and pack horses hauling supplies wirh adventurous Chinese tourists out for the May Day holiday week. I filled my camera with photos that could not possibly reproduce the beauty. In a moment of inattention a horse knocked me off the trail. I popped back up with a lightly scraped arm and we hiked on to Yubeng valley to make it our home for the next 3 nights.

The following day we hiked up to an avalanche strewn basin below 6,000 meter peaks with clinging ice falls. Traversing snow to the right side of a valley blocked by steep cliffs brought us to an overhanging waterfall sacred to Tibetans. I was the first to arrive and was shortly followed by a small group who fell prostrate before the waterfall in prayer. They then passed through the water three times as a cleansing ritual.

The following day revealed more stellar weather as I leisurely roamed around the valley pausing by a river for 2 hours and hiking up to a remote temple ascending to the sound of one man chanting.

Three nights in the villages of Yubeng passed with the snap of finger. We hired a local guide for a different route out. He led us down a long thin valley with a violent flowing river powered by strong spring runoff as he rolled prayer beads between his fingers and mubled a prayer. As the valley opened we followed a relatively thin trail cut along an exposed steep cliff until we rounded out to a broader valley back to the mighty muddy Mekong at Nimong village.

From there it was a long trip back to Shangri-la but this time the blazing sun turned the muddy road of a week ago into a dust festival. Thus ended a wonderful week in the China Himalaya.

Stepping It Up - Into Himalayan China

2011-05-10T06:03:00.008-05:00

To get to anything really remotely resembling the idyllic Shangri-La one must leave Shangri-La for a ten hour bus ride over mountainous roads. Of course the road is pretty bad. The way is mostly dirt and single lane at times with troubling landslides, rock fall, and construction. Never mind the exposed drop off on either side at any given time. Added comfort comes with rain, a full load and people smoking as they please. For a moment you might wonder what you’re doing but sometimes you might have to go through a little hell to get to heaven. Actually, the bus ride really isn’t really that bad if you’re not bothered by discomfort and a little danger.

The bus had been driven over from Deqin the day before and it had taken 20 hours due to road construction and landslide. It arrived in Shangri-la at 6am and the driver was able to get a good one hour sleep before hopping back on to drive a fresh new load of passengers back up to Deqin. At the bus station I met two other westerners for the ride. A young British lady by the name of Rosa and an older Italian woman making a long single night journey to catch a glimpse of the holy Tibetan Mountain, Kawa Karpo. I also met a young Chinese professional by the name of Sean who speaks good English.

From Shangri-La the Bus wastes no time climbing up into the heavens. The guide books says the route passes over 5000 meters three times. The road is quite bad and downright dangerous at times but our driver was excellent and obviously well experienced. I imagine he does it so often that he could do it in his sleep. Relatively speaking, I felt like we were in good hands. Although it’s a hard trip now, China is in the process of blasting, digging and tunneling one heck of an amazing new highway. Someday it will be a breeze getting to Deqin but for now, it’s an experience.

It rained for much of the trip and the four of us, who met on the bus, teamed up for a taxi to Feilai Si as soon as we arrived in a very wet and cold Deqin. Deqin is not the most attractive town but the mountains are quite impressive. Feilai Si is more desirable and affords a grand stand view of 6,740 meter Mt. Kawa Karpo. In Feilai Si we found accommodation at a hostel and hit the street for slim pickens in the order of food. In the process we met a nice young South African couple and invited them to join us over bowls of bland noodles.

The main reason for visiting the mountains in the vicinity of Kawa Karpo is that it offers some good hiking possibilities. The area is within the Shangri-la Meli Snow Mountain National Park. I was pretty unaware of what the region had to offer but with a little investigating and some good advice in Shangri-la I figured it might offer just what I was looking for.

Although I boarded the bus by myself and was fully prepared to figure out everything on my own by evening I was a part of a hiking group. Myself, Sean, Rosa, and the S. African couple decided to trek together. It would be more fun and easier for all of us. I love how this kind of stuff naturally happens when traveling. Language would not be an issue as Sean is Chinese and Rosa speaks good Chinese. We made plans to meet in the morning then hire transportation to take us for an hour and half drive to the a village where we could hike up to Ming Yong Glacier. Our plans after that were to head over to another trailhead for the night. The following day we planned to hike over a pass and into a valley with two villages that can only be reached by foot or horse. We planned to base ourselves out of the valley for some more hiking.

High Big Sky - Western Yunnan

2011-05-02T03:39:00.010-05:00

Last night I had a Yak steak sandwich. It perked me up like a kid on Christmas morning. I guess I really needed some rich and powerful protein. All day I had pedaled around a broad valley to view the seasonal Napa Lake amidst beautiful grasslands under a big sky. The area really reminds me of the American West except all of the cowboys are Tibetan and all the Cows are Yaks.

The bike I rented fit me well but the bent front rim made it a little wobbly. Not bad though. I passed Buddhist Stupas, construction of traditional buildings being built in the old world way, and Tibetans who smile every time you look at them. This part of China is mostly Tibetan and a refreshing change from Han Chinese who tend to be nice enough but not particularly warm and friendly.

Today I got some good information from a local who speaks really good English. He said China is being really strict with foreign travelers in Tibet because of the 60th anniversary of liberation. Well, I'm not going to get into the issue but I will say that some westerners are pretty well informed about what went on 60 years ago and aren't too happy about it. The real issue that concerns China, from what I can decipher, is that they don't some westerner going in and stirring up some kind of political uprising. Fair enough, considering some have been pretty vocal about Tibet. I think if this was not a concern Westerners would probably be free to travel as they please. So, in a way I think a few Westerners traveling Tibet in the past have kind of screwed up travel for Westerners of today. It took me a little while to figure this out and I can understand China's reservations on foreigners traveling there. What's too bad is that I know 99.99% of travelers just want to go to Tibet to enjoy the beautiful scenery and experience the colorful culture.

Since I've pretty much thrown out the idea of going to Tibet I've decided to experience as much of the Tibetan culture as I can within the Yunnan and Sichuan provinces. My plan now is to take a bus to Dequin and trek around the 6,740 meter Mt. Kawa Karpo. The scenery is supposed to be amazing with glaciers, waterfalls, and airy peaks. High, wild, and off the tourist track. I'll likely see a few more adventurous backpackers but don't expect to see many. The road to Dequin tops 5000 meters 3 times on the way from Shangrila. I plan to spend a few days trekking around Dequin then I'll return to Shangrila. I'll then head to Litang. From Litang I'll likely go to Ganzi and inquiry about the possibility of crossing into the Qinghai province via a high route close to the Tibetan boarder. The travel should be very interesting with local buses and questionable facilities. I'm not sure how internet access will be but I'll post when I can.

So, tomorrow I'll board a bus at 8:20 am. From what I can tell it will take anywhere from 6 to 10 hours to get the Dequin. Apparently there's road construction along the way.

Caught Up In The Journey - Destination?

2011-05-01T06:57:00.008-05:00

I’ve been close to a month on the road and as always time is passing very quickly. Travel has been much easier than anticipated and in all honesty not quite as exiciting as I thought it would be. I’ve had some great days but for the most part it’s been pretty much a ho hum experience. I’ve been to enough places in the world that my definition of exotic foreign travel has evolved and changed. For someone who has never traveled outside of the west, China would probably be kind of a mind blower. For me, it’s Asia as I’d more or less expect. What’s nice about it is that I’m very comfortable traveling here. At I times I find myself in a more contemplative state of mind.

Words get in the way of communication and plans can get in the way of life. Be open to all you see. It’s impossible not to have an opinion but try not to judge. Although people and cultures can be so different everyone has the same to desire to live a peaceful happy life amidst family and friends. Day to day existence is survival for everyone. Some pick up a hoe and walk to the fields while others pick up a laptop and drive a BMW to work. The end goal is the more or less the same for everyone. Some are more concerned with the health of their portfolio, others the health of their Yak. Me? I live in the in-between, circumnavigating the contrasts of existence and my role amidst it all.

I guess you can say I’m compelled to stockpile a mixed load of life experiences. In a interesting and exciting way I feel it’s all leading me somewhere. Somedays I question what am I really doing? Why do I feel this drive? At the same time I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be so I just trust the feeling and do my best to stay present in the now. Caught up in the Journey but not really sure of the destination.

A Place Called Shangrila & Tibet Not Likely

2011-05-01T06:47:00.003-05:00

I’m now in Shangrila. It’s an old city that changed it’s name to attract tourist to a 10,000+ ft. rarified air environment full of Tibeten culture. Yeah, it’s touristy but not too bad and it still retains a certain kind of charm. It reminds me a lot more of the American west than some idylic mythical Shangrila. The area consists of a broad filled valley surrounded by hills and distant mountains under a crystal clear blue sky. The nights are cold, the air is dry, and the days are just right. Tibeten temples, stupas, and prayer flags decorate the surrounding area. The people are low key, nice, and the Tibetens always seem to be smiling.

I was hoping to make arrangements to travel into Tibet from here but China is not making it easy. It now takes 10 days to acquire a permit and unless I want to fly. I’ll have to depart out of Chengdu if I want to go overland. The travel agencies here are saying I will also be required to hire a guide at around 1,000 rmb a day which is outrageous when I know I could hire a guide on my own for about a 100 rmb day. Supposedly everything has to be set up through an agency beforehand. Tibet is looking unlikely. Too expensive and too much hassle. As of now I’ll pass through Chengdu anyway so I’ll check the situation there. However, 10 days to get a permit really makes planning inconvenient. For one, I don’t want a guide and I generally don’t like to plan too much beforehand. Plans have a way of getting in the way. Apparently foreigners are not allowed to travel anywhere in Tibet wihtout a guide. My only real chance now would be to stumble into a group of backpackers trying to put something together out of Chengdu.

My curretnl plan is to travel western Sichuan, off the tourist track, on local busses to some high villages. Some above 13,000 ft where real Tibetan culture can be found. I really like the gentle nature of the Tibetan people as there is a lot of Tibetan culture where I am right now. Not to mention the Yak yogurt and Yak meat is amazing. A Tibetan man told me last night that Yak meat is very powerful and I have to agree. In this part of the world I’m sure it’s all range feed, all natural, and quite healthy.

Tiger Leaping Gorge

2011-05-01T06:03:00.004-05:00

Tiger Leaping Gorge was a welcome relief from the busy cities and Chinese tourist destinations that I’ve been passing through. It's a canyon gorge formed by a river that passes between 5,596 meter Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and 5,396 meter Haba Xueshan. There’s a nice 2 day trek up along a high route above the river.

It appears to be relatively popular with westerners but not Chinese. The Chinese prefer a bus tour to a particular point along the river with a short day walk to glimpse a view of the steep cliffs that rise above the valley. The High Route avoids the circus below and can only be traveled by foot or horse. Along the way you pass through some villages that offer basic but good accomodation and decent food. I spent two nights in the Gorge but kind of wish I had spent a couple of more as there are other hikes aside of the High Route.

The short trek really reminded me how much I like hiking and walking. Right now I think that’s mostly what I’d like to be doing. However, hiking is not well developed in China, good maps are impossible to find, and information dubios. Nonetheless, I do seem to stumble upon some pretty good day walks everywhere I go but there’s nothing like shouldering a pack and heading off for a week, month, or more traversing long distances with everything you need on your back.

As for Tiger Leaping Gorge I’ll let the pictures do the talking…….

Too Many Chinese Tourists

2011-04-30T05:43:00.003-05:00

So far the backpacker trail has taken me from Hong Kong > Yangshou > Dragons Backbone Rice Terraces > Kunming > Dali > Lijiang > Tiger Leaping Gorge and now Shangrila. The traveling has been easy despite language difficulties. I’ve seen some beautiful and interesting places but the drawback is that I’ve been too much on the Chinese tourist track. Outside of the cities its not an issue but Lijiang was over the top and quite disappointing. A completely restored ancient city, stripped of any charm, and tourism it’s main focus is not where I care spend my time. Lijiang actually kind of bummed me out. It’s kind of like a Chinese Disneyland. For me, the saving grace was a network of peaceful trails upon Elephant Hill overlooking the city. Relief came when I left Lijiang for an awesome 2 day trek at Tiger Leaping Gorge.

I regularly see western tourist here and there but not many unless I’m at certain hostels or a specific location within a city or village that caters to foreigners. It’s quite easy to travel within a bubble hopping from hostel to hostel and forefinger street to foreigner street. The backpacker trail is pretty cohesive here in China. The downside is that you miss out on a bit of the real China experience. I guess it all depends on what kind of an experience a traveler wants. For me, I like to mix it up but I’m tired of Chinese tourists right now.

From what I can tell tourism is booming within the Chinese culture. Towns are fully revamped. Streets are cleaned. Vendors dress up in traditional garb and tour buses roll in packed with Chinese embracing free enterprise as much as anyone. Destination are complete with overpriced food, pricey accommodation, and expensive entrance fees to famous sites. In popular places tourism is very similar to the west. I’m sure it will continue to grow as much as it appears the Chinese love to travel within their country.

The upside to visiting the places I have, despite a boom of tourism, is that their still beautiful locations and the real China is usually right outside the boundaries of the tourist center. Or, as I like to see it, a short walk or quick bike ride away.

A Pedal Around Dali

2011-04-24T20:57:00.003-05:00

Dali is an ancient city turned major tourist destination for Chinese. It sits at the edge of a moutain range that gives way to a broad agricultural valley with a large lake. The old city buildings have been revamped and turned into shops selling just about everything. The main area fo shopping resembles a large outdoor chinese themed shopping mall. The difference is tht the buildings are really very old and the tourist are Chinese. You see a westerner here and there but it’s not really on the tourist track for those who are not Chinese. That’s what makes it interesting for a foreinger. It’s actually pretty cool and as always seems to be the case in China five minutes on a bike and your away from the tourist hooplah.

Yesterday I rented a bike for 10 yuan ($1.50 usd) and pedaled around. I visited a village next to Er Hai Lake, passed through rich agricultural plots, and squeezed through local markets outside of the main shopping area. Here are a few photos……

Dali - Back In The Flow

2011-04-24T06:11:00.003-05:00

I left Kunming yesterday with directions on how to catch the city bus to the station where I was due to catch a bus to Dali. I had already purchased the ticket to Dali the day before so all I needed to do was get on the right bus at 10 am. No worries, I could feel myself finding my way back to the flow.

The number 2 was all I needed to know for finding my bus. The number 2 was the clue for finding the right avenue for departure. I showed my ticket to a couple of staff and at 10 am I was comfortably on the right bus with a window as hoped for.

We stopped twice on the 5 hour expected 4 hour trip. One stop was a pretty decent station. The other was pit of a place with a bull horn hawker pushing lunch. The guy sitting next to me hacked and spat regularly after lunch. No problem, the aluminum pale was nearby and available for such a need. Hacking and spitting is perfectly acceptable in this part of the world. It’s worst first thing in the morning, or as I witnessed, after lunch.

I arrived at a station 20 km from Dali. Often times when you buy a ticket you’re not really sure where you will be dropped off but when everyone gets off that’s your clue. This is common throughout Asia. You may or may not be dropped at a station and if you are dropped at a station make sure you know which one it is. Anyway, I somehow communicated with a taxi driver I wanted a city bus to Dali. 10 Yuan ($1.50) later I was at a city station. “The Lonely Planet Guide”, or as I prefer to call it, “The Lost Planet Guide”, said bus 8 would drop me at West Gate. Instead it dropped me in Dali center.

I rarely like to book accommodation ahead of time unless I feel it’s totally necessary. It took me a moment to get my bearings but I found my way to some accommodation options. Saturday evening can pose a little more of a challenge in place popular with Chinese tourists. One place wanted too much, the other was full. I found an area I liked so just walked around. I decided to try the confused backpacker/tourist technique to see what I’d attract. I do not recommend this approach for India but in China it’s ok. Within a minute a cute old lady walked up to me and put her hands to her head signaling she thought I was looking for a place to sleep. She then spoke the only word of English I think she knows, “Cheap”. I said ok.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to look. When l have a choice I prefer a top floor quiet corner room with a view. There was no way I could communicate that with her. Anyway, we quickly arrived at a family run guest house, just what I prefer. No one spoke a word of English but it was easy to communicate. The room was 40 Yuan. Around $6.50. I communicated I’d like to see it. I was taken up to a clean top floor quiet corner room with a view.. Done..

It was a smooth day of travel and I’m back in the flow. The flow comes from allowing things to happen without getting in the way and following your instinct/intuition. This is one my favorite things about travel. In truly foreign countries this is the attitude one must take and when I return home I have to regularly remind myself how well the universe works when you allow it to. I am amazed at how easy a person can travel in a country where a common language is not shared. Sometimes I feel like words get in the way of communication. Smiles and thank yous go a long way.

Kunming was bit of bump in the road for me. In part due to not listening to my gut instinct but things seem to be falling back into place here in Dali. I’ll spend a couple of days here and move on. The photo is of the Guest House I'm staying at.