Nanny/Nomad

Coastal Yucatan Mexico & Belize on a Budget

2010-12-20T05:26:00.000-08:00

I spend two blissful weeks in December exploring Belize and Mexico's Yucatan Coast. The following are some strategies for an inexpensive getaway in this region.

Be open to nearby airports. The savings of flying out of Salt Lake City vs. my home airport of Jackson, Wyoming was significant enough to warrant the 4.5 hour drive. My non-stop flight from Salt Lake City to Cancun was a bargin $388.

Sleep for cheap. The following are my Top 5 best deals I encountered during this trip. All are safe, quaint and under $60. 1. Posada Mariposa, $45 (Playa Del Carmen) 2. Vista Del Mar, $60 (Akumal) 3. Maison Tulum, $40 (Tulum) 4. Seagull's Nest cabana, $38 (Hopkins, Belize) 5. Ocean Pearl Royale, $25 (Caye Cauker, Belize)

Street food is cheap and tasty. For a few dollars or less, you can fill your belly with a variety of delicious food in this region. Cochinitas (pork taco) and pupusas (meat, bean, or cheese filled corn tortillas) are plentiful around Playa Del Carmen's busy town square. In Caye Caulker the "cake lady" entices passersby with homemade treats, while a rasta sells marinated chicken out of a cooler. I bought the best banana bread I've ever tasted on a Belizan bus!

Price compare to get more for your money. I try to get a feel for the going rate of goods and services while I orient myself to a new town. Many businesses in Caye Caulker were offering opportunities to snorkel with sting rays and sharks for $40. But for the same price, Black Hawk Sailing offered this experience on a sailboat (instead of a small motorboat) and we were promised a generous amount of rum on the ride back to shore! Another score was an hour long deep tissue massage on the beach for $20 in Playa Del Carmen.

Get creative with transportation. Rent a bike for $6 a day to bike from downtown to the ruins in Tulum. Fly from Dandriga to Caye Caulker on local Belizan airline Maya Island Air for a mere $66. Drop $10 on a moped and discover the east side of Cozumel Island. Find other travelers going your direction and negotiate a discount on a private shuttle bus in broken Spanish. Finally, Mexico's ADO buses are clean, cheap, and airconditioned (and they have movies!)

Embrace simplicity. Browsing a sunday market, walking that perfect beach, and savoring a sunrise are still free. And aren't those sublime moments the reason you traveled in the first place?

Summer 2010 Recap

2010-09-04T05:22:00.000-07:00

I return to the USA in early June and spend the next two weeks in my hometown of Canton, Ohio. Highlights include dancing to my brother's band on "biker night," reconnecting with extended family I haven't seen in years at Dad's summer party, and indulging in homemade veggie pizza, red wine, and late night conversation at Mom's. I visit friends who are in various stages of motherhood--one has an adorable 1-year-old daughter and is pregnant with her second, two others are in their third trimester. It feels funny to wake up in the same bed in the same town for several consecutive nights.

On June 19, exactly six months after I left, I return home to Jackson, Wyoming. It's greener than I've ever seen it and I'm informed that the relentless rain finally let up the day before. Perfect timing!

My Top 10 Favorite Jackson Summer Activities:

1. Trail running: The 11 mile route from Game Creek to Cache Creek is my favorite.

2. On the Water: Whether rafting or kayaking the Snake River, tubing Flat Creek, or boating on Jackson Lake, I'm all about it.

3. In the Water: The "hippie hot spring" near my house is the perfect temperature and offers a view of roaring Granite Falls.

4. Camping in the Gros Ventres: I have to wear extra thick socks as my feet approach arctic temperatures at night, but the silhouetted Tetons and star-gazing more than makes up for it!

5. Biking with friends to the People's Market: a Wednesday gathering of local food vendors, artists, beer, and music. Always a good time.

6. Hiking the lesser known areas of Yellowstone: I skip Old Faithful and opt for a nearby hike that leads me past wispy Fairy Falls, spouting Imperial geyser, and gurgling mudpots. Best of all, I only shared these sites with ten other people rather than a hundred.

7. Hiking to Phelps Lake or around Curtis Canyon at dusk. Simply peaceful.

8. Dining outside with friends at Teton Thai or Lotus Cafe.

9. Wildlife sightings: Seeing buffalo, moose, and elk still gives me a thrill.

10. Taking photos of the gorgeous landscape!

And now...back to work! I am happy to report I was able to return to my former nanny gig!

Trip Cost Total: $9574

2010-06-09T05:04:00.001-07:00

It's been a week since I wrapped up my 5 month trek around the world. I am happy to report I achieved my goal of keeping the trip under $10,000. Below is a breakdown of my expenses which I tracked and converted to US dollars using the current exchange rates at the time.

Flights: $3370

I purchased my flights in advance through Airbrokers.com--travel agents specializing in around the world itineraries. My route included 8 one-way flights and many logical overland segments so I did not have to backtrack (i.e. flying into Sydney but out of Melbourne). I also purchased 2 short hops in Asia for a total of 10 flights.

Insurance: $225

My regular insurance policy does not apply to travel abroad for longer than 90 days. Worldnomads.com offers reasonably priced policies offering emergency medical coverage (thankfully I never had to use it!)

Visas & Visa waivers: $105

Two entries into Cambodia, one in Vietnam, and New Zealand visa waiver. I only needed my passport to enter all the other countries on my route.

Below are my day to day expenses. This category includes everything I purchased pertaining to the trip from the time I landed in Fiji on January 5 until my departure from the Netherlands on June 3---Food, lodging, surface transportation (buses, trains, car rental, boats, tuk tuks), communication (sim cards, internet cafes, skype credit), activities (snorkeling, caving, cycling, massage, park entrance fees, museums, sightseeing, etc.), shopping (from tolietries to thai dresses), and airport departure taxes. I have listed how much I spent and the daily average for each region.

Fiji, New Zealand, & Australia: $2318 (daily average=$51.51)

Time period: January 7 through February 20. Couchsurfing in Auckland, Napier, and Christchurch and staying with friends in Sydney and Dunedin mitigated car rental expenses. I ate alot of veggie quiches, salads, and sandwiches from cafes for around $5. Intercity Coachlines, Naked Bus, and Atomic Shuttles are great companies for inexpensive bus travel all over NZ.

Southeast Asia: $1038 (daily average=$26.62)

Time Period: February 21 through March 31. Huge $2 indian meals in Tanah Rata, $25 snorkeling trips in Railay, and swimming in hidden lagoons for free made for cheap living. Guesthouses were regularly under $20 (and this was split with Laura!) Haggling is expected in the markets. Street food is cheap, delicious, and usually safe. If you want to reduce travel costs, definitely spend a chunk of time here!

Europe: $2518 (daily average=$40)

Time Period: April 1 through June 3. Several factors contributed to lower than expected costs in this region. First of all, I was only in pricey Western Europe for two weeks. Most of my time was spent traveling north from Athens to Prague. Destinations such as Albania, Bosnia, and Slovenia proved to be quite reasonably priced. Between couchsurfing and staying with friends, I arranged 20 nights of free accomodation (Many thanks to Marcela, Petra, Katja & Tobias, Tine, and the Vienna crew!) I used bus services such as Eurolines more often than trains. Finally, not only did I travel during Europe's shoulder season (spring) but I experienced the most favorable euro to dollar exchange rate we've seen in years (1 euro = between 1.20 and 1.30 usd)

Total Trip Cost=$9574

Overall, I think my tendency to embrace a lifestyle of simplicity aided my ability to keep day to day costs low. It would be easy to burn through thousands of dollars doing every tourist activity under the sun. I did some of them, but the experiences that really interest me also happen to be the ones that cost little or nothing. One of my favorite places is Meteora, Greece where I trail ran Holy Spirit Mountain, (free) celebrated Easter in the town square by candlelight and fireworks (free), and toured monastaries atop rock formations with new friend, Yannis ($2 entrance fee) My souvenirs are my journals and photos (ok, and a few thai dresses!) Long term travel for people of modest means is possible, but it behooves such a traveler to prioritize carefully. If you are contemplating long term travel, I encourage you to go for it. My trip was one of the most satisfying and liberating experiences of my entire life!

"Vagabonding is about looking for the adventure in normal life and normal life within adventure. Vagabonding is an attitude--a friendly interest in people, places, and things that makes a person an explorer in the truest, most vivid sense of the word. Vagabonding is about time--our only real commodity--and how we choose to use it."

--Rolf Potts, author of my favorite travel book--Vagabonding

Amsterdam

2010-06-01T07:41:00.001-07:00

Church bells ring. Trams growl over tracks. Coffee shops exude conversation and wafts of weed. Women ride side saddle on double-seated bicycles steered by boyfriends. Boats glide under bridges in canals past leaning brick houses. Men negotiate prices with the prostitutes in red light district windows. I must be in Amsterdam!

I take the train from Schipohl airport to Centraal Station then walk around the city. I see a couple with backpacks studying a map and strike up a conversation. ''Are you looking for a hostel too?" I ask."We are just trying to find the one we already booked" the guy replies. "You can follow us and see if they have any beds left. I think it's this way." The three of us walk towards the Nieumarkt area, passing the beautiful Waag building until we arrive at a place called The Shelter. The Shelter turns out to be a Christian hostel right next to De Wallen--otherwise known as the red light district. Too hilarious. Actually, the place is pretty great with a spacious kitchen, cute courtyard, and a friendly staff. Some ingenious ways of getting Jesus into your life include the ''God mail box'', Christian music videos, and a Jesus computer program. Pretty soon it feels completely normal to go for a run past prostitues shimmying in their windows then returning to the hostel to find a bible study taking place.

In Amsterdam you can:

Learn from the scholars at Cannabis College where their mission is to offer ''free advice on safe recreational cannabis use in addition to educating the public about the many uses of the hemp plant."

Legally smoke a joint or consume a space cake inside a coffee shop. However, smoking tobacco cigarettes indoors was banned in 2008. Interestingly, only about 7% of the Dutch population smokes marijuana.

Visit the sex museum which contains art, photos, and information about sex through the ages as well as animatronic mannequins engaged in a variety of debaucherous activities

See the World Press Photo 2010 exhibit at the Oude Kerk.

View photos of a professor's strange anatomical specimens at FOAM, marvel the world's largest collection of Van Gough paintings at Van Gough museum or take in some Rembrandts and Vermeers at the Rijksmuseum.

Chillout in Vondelpark and climb on the I amsterdam sign

Listen to street performers playing music near the National Monument.

Interact with colorful characters such as a celebratory guy in the skintight red sequined nurses uniform or a wandering guy talking to himself about Saddam Hussein.

Eat amazing Indonesian food at places like Toko Joyce

Amsterdam was the last stop on this 'round the world itinerary. Time to fly home!

Ahoy matees from Ghent!

2010-05-31T06:08:00.000-07:00

My accomodation in Ghent is a boat remodeled into the Andromeda Ecohostel. This is the coolest place I have stayed in yet and energy saving to boot. Showers are low flow and sinks biodegradable. Lights are motion sensored. An efficient and carbon neutral pelletheading system provides hot water while flax insulation utilizes passive heat. The common room is cozy with a small couch, cushioned chairs, and interesting books to thumb through. The hostel is run by Liselot--an friendly, willowy, dreadlocked woman I like instantly.

Fellow guest, Steve is in his late forties and lives near Boulder. He is traveling for a year after getting laid off from his software engineering job. We decide to dine together at Liselot's favorite vegetarian restaurant, called Komkomestijd (translation="Cucumber Time") I pile my plate high with cous cous, mushroom lasanga, tempeh, greens, and spring rolls with the best sweet and sour sauce I've ever had. Steve and I discuss travel and his biking adventures (he brought his bike from Colorado!) then wander past Ghent's beautiful churches after dinner.

The next morning, Belinda and I take a daytrip to the nearby town of Bruges. The highlight of the day is our trip to the chocolate museum. We eat high quality Belocade brand chocolate drops and laugh at the sculpture gallery which includes a chocolate puss in boots, Michael Angelo's Madonna, and Obama. Back in Ghent, we spend the evening talking and drinking organic beers Liselot has on hand including Moinette, Jessenhofke, and Blanche du Hainaut. Yum.

I discover the Blaarmeersen area for running, a lake surrounded by parks and various trails. Birds with white and copper colored heads called Fuut land in the water while people carry long boats to and from the water. I see a guy inside what looks like an enormous beach ball, attempting to stand up. The ball reminds me of the odd sport zorbing but on water!

My last night in Ghent is spent with Liselot, Maarten, and two of their friends at the Groene Vallei Feest where we listen to fantastic ska-reggae band, Wrong 'em Boyo (named after the Clash song). A diverse crowed gathers at the front of the stage and soon we are all dancing in the warm spring rain.

Dresden & Berlin

2010-05-18T13:18:00.000-07:00

I am so excited to see Katja and Tobias when they come to meet me at Dresden's bus station! I met this fantastic couple in Cambodia and they kindly invited me to stay with them a few days when I made it to Europe. They share a colorful three-story space with five other people in Dresden's hip Neustadt area where a variety of bars, boutiques, and cafes are within walking distance. They take me to Bautzner Tar bar where we listen to Mr. Beckard and the universal air pressure orchestra--a zany duo that thrives on interaction with the audience. The next day we explore the beauiful buildings of Old Town on the other side of the Elbe river. You can see evidence of Dresden's 1945 destruction from the different colors of brick where the original building and the restored parts meet. Over breakfast, Katja and Tobias's roommate, Uli, tells me about the how Neo-nazis gather in Dresden every year to commemorate the air raid of February 13. Each year anti-fascists attempt to prevent the neo-nazis from marching but fail. Well, perhaps the ghost of Kurt Vonnegut was smiling on the anti-fascists, because this year they were successful for the first time. Led by groups such as the Alliance Dresden Nazifrei (Dresden without Nazis), an estimated 12,000 activists protested and blockaded the area. Police finally cancelled the nazi march. Perhaps this is the beginning of the end of neo-nazi strength in Dresden?

I was not originally intending to go to Berlin due to a lack of time. By the time I arrived in Dresden I only had a few days before my flight from Prague to Amsterdam. But Kajta was going so I took the opportunity. I am so happy I did. I went on two very different walking tours--one showcasing the burgeoning street art culture, the other was a more traditional look at Berlin's history. The history tour took me past sites such as Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, and the site of Hilter's former bunker (currently a parking lot). I am simply facinated by the Berlin wall--the wall itself, the notion of using a physical barrier to contain ideologies, and the effect the previous division has on a reunified Germany today. The path of the Berlin wall remains marked by a double brick line snaking through the city. It is odd to walk along it and see boutiques and coffee shops where armed guards used to stand. On my own I walked past the famous East Side Gallery--a 1.3 kilometer stretch of remaining wall decorated with the work of around 100 artists. I spent hours here just imagining what it would feel like to cross to the other side the day the border opened in 1989.

The other intense experience during my time in Berlin was a visit to the newly opened Topography of Terror documentation center. This museum was built on the site of previous nazi regime buildings. The section of wall here is the second largest that remains in Berlin (the first is the East Side Gallery). The documentation center details the planning, execution, and aftermath of the Nazi's mass murder of the Jewish population and other minorities. Listening to a (translated to english) recording of Heinrich Himmler's speech to other Nazi party leaders in Pozen, Poland was bone-chilling. This second most powerful Nazi member speaks specifically and frankly of the ongoing extermination of the Jewish people then concludes, "We have carried out this most difficult task for the love of our people. And we have taken on no defect within us, in our soul, or in our character." Because despite organizing the genocide of more than eleven million people, the Nazi's were pretty upstanding citizens, you see. WTF?!?

Dramatic history, seventy museums, and a unique art scene are just a few reasons Berlin is a super interesting city to visit. I'm with Bowie on this on-- "Berlin is the greatest cultural extravaganza one could imagine."

2 countries sharing one town

2010-05-18T00:20:00.000-07:00

Cesky Tesin/Cieszyn is an unusual town because half of it lies within the Czech Republic and the other half (Cieszyn) is in Poland. The Olza river separates the two sections of town and you can walk between the two countries over a bridge. The town was divided in 1920 after World War I when Poland and Czechloslovakia were created.

I climb to the top of the Piast Tower for a great view (well, except for the rain) overlooking the two sides of town. The woman at the information center shows me the location of two hotels and two "pensions" (usually a restaurant with lodging above it) I choose, Pod Vesi, a decent deal at 400 czech crowns (about $20) and it is only a few minutes walk from the train station.

My room has tangerine colored walls, a clean bathroom, wooden table, and an old school television--the kind you have to physically push in the rectangular buttons to change one of the 8 available channels! Channels 1 and 4 are Czech news, 2 is Michael Bolton singing in Czech, 5 is some car show in black and white, and channels 3, 6, 7, and 8 don´t work. Hilarious! Unfortunately I do not get much sleep during my stay here due to a rambunctious party downstairs that goes on until after 3am. Oh well.

In the morning, I run along the Olza river and discover the fire department having some kind of competition. Teenagers in firefighter uniforms race down the street with hoses then aim the water stream at red targets while onlookers cheer. I never know what to expect to see on a run. I just wish I had my camera to capture the event!

Olomouc (pronounced ollamoats)

2010-05-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

I walk to the town square where there is some kind of talent show taking place under a large white tent. Preteen girls dance to Michael Jackson´s "Beat it" and the crowd goes wild! Next up are boys kickboxing to a death metal song. I´d love to stay, but it is starting to rain. And, more importantly, I need to find Cafe 87 which is where my couchsurfing host, Petra, and I agreed to meet at 5:30. I find a tram heading to her area, Namesti Republiky, and soon enough the cafe appears on my right. Go me! I am proud of myself for having honed the ability to remain calm even when I (temporarily) have no idea where I am!

Petra and I drop my backpack off at her flat. Petra teaches Irish dance and is currently working on her Ph.D dissertation titled The Mating Habits of Blackberries (Upon hearing this, one of our dinner companions will look at her, confused, and say "Wait, what are you doing with phones?") Her flat is busy during my visit. Victor, a couchsurfer from Portugal is here and so is Petra´s best friend, Misha. Prone to bouts of homesickness these days, I think the more the merrier!

Olomouc is a town of around 100,000 people in the Czech Republic´s eastern region, Moravia. Much as I enjoyed Vienna, I usually want a smaller town atmosphere after spending time in a city. Olomouc is home to Palacky University and has the fun, laid back vibe that accompanies such towns. Bookstores, funky boutiques, and low lit cafes stand near baroque fountains and beautiful cathedrals. The contemporary art museum is free on Wednesday (lucky me!). I like the work of Laszlo Feher whos work features simple human figures against a huge canvas of black, yellow, and white. In the afternoon, I climb the stairs of gothic St. Maurice´s church for a cloudy yet still lovely view of the town.

Dinner at Hanacka Hospoda is a hoot. Petra, Victor, Misha, and several students from Palasky university end up staying there laughing and carrying on until closing. Menu items include smoked pig´s knuckle, chicken a la duck (do you really need both at once?), and something called guttery breah of night of lostice. I order sulanky which turns out to be a rather delicious potato dumplings filled with poppy seed dish. Conversation turns to strange things people have eaten and I am dared to eat the fish eye from the guy that ordered the entire fish. Well, I´ve eaten emu, kangaroo, sting ray, snake, and horse on this trip do you think I eat the eye? Of course I do. By the end of the evening we all think we can speak Czech simply by adding "vot" to the end of everything. Petra confirms, however, that there are quite a few czech words where this is true including flirtovot, relaxovot, sportovot, and telephonovot!

I thought the talent show would win for strangest sight in Olomouc. Then I encountered someone in an orange costume that referred to themselves as "Cookie" and thought "no this is the weirdest." The experimantal jazz band at Ponorka bar where the singer read lines from the newspaper was also a contender. But none of those compares to the most random site of all---sitting next to a grocery store, there is an airplane that has been converted into a bar! The sign says "Letka" opens at 9pm but the door is locked when I arrive shortly after that time. I ring the buzzer and a woman comes and opens the cabin door and motions me to come inside. The decor is delightfully lounge-chic with red seats, leather walls, and big black ashtrays atop hexagonal tiled tables. It´s a plane one can imagine Dirk Diggler and Roller girl partying inside. There is even a small dance area with rotating disco light in the back! I cannot decipher a thing on the menu so I just say "beer" and am given a can of Gambrinus and a tall glass for the equivalent of a buck and a half. I wish someone in the place could speak english and explain how this bar came into existence? What is the backstory here?

Shout Outs

2010-05-15T22:48:00.000-07:00

Thank you Diana Rossetti and the Canton Repository for running the story about my trip. I also appreciate the encouraging comments from readers. I hope the story inspires more Americans to embark on international travel!

Here´s a link to the story:

http://www.cantonrep.com/carousel/x1560849407/Around-the-world-in-150-days-A-bloggers-tale

Thanks again!

Vienna, Austria

2010-05-07T23:46:00.000-07:00

The first thing I do upon arriving in Vienna is contact Anthony, my friend from Utah I met through couchsurfing in Park City last year. Anthony flew on a one-way ticket to Europe in October and subsists as a street trombonist, first in Barcelona and now Vienna. We meet at a coffeehouse near Stephansplatz to catch up. Anthony is well connected in the couchsurfing community and recommends Tobi who previously hosted him.

As charismatic as he is blonde, Tobi is immediately likeable and so are his four flatmates: Kathy, Sophie, Rafael, and Jacob. They live in a large old building near Rochugasse off the U3 line. The red kitchen walls are full of quotes written in chalk by previous visitors. Postcards from latin america decorate the bathroom walls and the common space is a mishmash of everything from musical instruments, random laundry, to Jacobs folding bicycle. I believe couchsurfers should contribute to the household in some way so I take on the role of tidying up by washing dishes and sweeping the floor. After sweeping Tobis bedroom he says "Thank you, Allie, now I will not have to do that for another two years" haha! All the bedrooms feature wood lofts like the ones you see in college dormitories. I sleep in Tobis room because he stays in Sophies room so the room is mostly used for storage. Up in the loft it is impossible to reach the light switch below, so a long walking stick is provided for this purpose.

Tobi´s love of bavarian music cannot be overstated. Until around 10am, the flat is completely silent---then suddenly the music starts and there is Tobi, dancing, and stomping, and singing his heart out. He burned me a cd of his favorites. He also likes to take guests on adventures. One afternoon Tobi, Kathy, and I waded through a channel of the Danube to a grassy island where we drank Weiselburger beer and relaxed in the sunshine. Another evening, he took us to the beautiful rooftop garden of a building that requires a special key (he has this key). We visit the Naschmarket which is full of mouthwatering food and the adjacent flea market which is full of delightful junk. Tobi buys a babushka candle and Sophie finds polka dot boxers for Tobi. I even attend a lecture about organic farming in Kenya at Tobis school, The University for Natural Resources and Applied Life Scienes. Whether it is political discussions with Rafael, enjoying rainbow and chocolate with Kathy, heart to hearts and hugs with Sophie, or laughing with Jacob, my new friends are super interesting and endlessly amusing. We linger over long breakfasts, randomly break into music sessions, and trade ridiculous insults for fun. Apparently, "Your momma doesnt cook with salt" is a pretty loaded phrase in Austria.

I like to play a game called "What happens if I get off on this metro stop?" Stop at Karlsplatz and hear the amplified opening chords of a song in nearby Ressel park. What is better than a free open-air concert? The stage for "Popfest" is set up beneath insanely gorgeous Karlskirche Church. And who is this spritely love child of Leslie Feist and Dolores O'Riordan supplying vocals and rhthym guitar? Her name is Clara Luzia. The band consists of Heidi on cello, Ines on drums, and Max on piano, guitar, and bass. Check them out if you get the chance. http://www.claraluzia.com/
I have plenty of time on my own to explore while my new friends attend classes or work. Transportation options include Vienna´s efficient u-bahn metro and the free tram around the ringstrasse, perfect for gawking at Viennas beautiful architecture. But my favorite is city bike. There are 61 city bike stations scattered throughout central Vienna. After registering with a credit card, you go to a station, swipe your card, and release an available bike. Rates are super reasonable and the first hour is free. After returning the bike to any vacant "bike box", you can wait 15 minutes and the free hour becomes available again. City bike is a fantastic idea and an enjoyable way to explore Vienna. Learn more at http://www.citybikewien.at/

One evening, I ride along the Danube canal to Volksprater, the amusement park east of the canal. The park is a home to a variety of so-tacky-its-cool attractions, such as the Jack the Ripper dark ride. On this Wednesday night, Volksprater is a ghost town devoid of rider´s shrieks or carnie´s calls. "Disneyland After People" I think to myself. I see people inside of snack shops with no customers watching television. A few people are strolling, smoking, and riding the park´s main attraction--the Risengrad (ferris wheel) The Risengrad factors into the plot of one of my favorite romantic movies, Before Sunrise, which was filmed at various locations throughout Vienna. I ride to the top and enjoy the view of Viennas city lights at night.

I could have stayed even longer in Vienna, but my flight from Prague to Amsterdam is quickly approaching on the 20th and there are a few more places I would like to see. Next stop, Olomouc in eastern Czech Republic!

NOTE: I realize I have quite a few punctuation typos throughout the blog. Most of them are because I was unable to find the correct key on whatever foreign keyboard I was using at the time. Every blog entry is written pretty quickly and off the cuff--so please forgive the errors!

Advice from a Forgetful Traveler

2010-05-07T06:46:00.000-07:00

I used to roll my eyes at perfectly organized people with all their systems and overplanning. I was too busy enjoying my life to obsess over every last detail. However, I have since learned to appreciate how a little organization goes a long way in preventing or overcoming travel mishaps. Below are some tips culled from various sources as well as my own experiences.

Bring two ATM cards, 2 credit cards, and some cash: I left my only ATM card in bank machine in Phuket. Credit cards cash advances, wiring money, or sending a replacement card via courier such as FedEx to a foreign address all cost money. Next time I intend to travel with two ATM cards from seperate checking accounts. If you have an online savings account, such as ING, you can use this as a way of transfering money between accounts. Credit cards and cash are good backups when an ATM is not available.

Make copies of important documents & important numbers: This includes your passport, drivers license, and travel health insurance policy. Carry the international contact numbers for banks and credit cards. Also have your card & bank details accessible in case your card is lost of stolen. Leave a copy of this information with someone you trust back at home.

Get a sim card for a mobile handset with a small amount of credit on it: I use Skype to keep in touch with loved ones, but a cell phone comes in handy when Skype is either unavailable or you do not have time to search for a computer (I am traveling without a laptop) Before leaving America, I suspended my cell phone service but packed my Motorola Razr handset. Then I purchased a local sim card when it was practical. (You will need un "unlocked" device for this to work. If your phone is locked, buy one on eBay or at your destination if basic cell phones tend to be cheap there) In Austria, a local sim card came in handy when I wanted to call my friend Andy and no interet cafes were nearby to skype. It helped me again when I left my credit card in a bike rental kiosk. It took one minute to call and put the card on hold to prevent unauthorized transactions (When I finally made it back to that particular kiosk the card was still there. Thank you kind citizens of Vienna for not stealing it! Good karma is yours!)

How to get un-lost: Take a business card from your hotel or hostel and tuck it in you wallet. If you wander far away and have no idea how to even pronounce the name of where you are staying, you can show it to a driver who will. This was so helpful in Asia and the ride was usually only a dollar or two. I also use my digital camera to take pictures of street names, landmarks, etc. so I can show people where I want to go when asking directions. Associating a familiar word with a foreign makes it easier to remember. For example, while staying on Kubekgasse street, I thought of it as "Stanley Kubrik street."

Remain optimistic: Get over the fear of looking stupid. Ask for help when you need it. It continues to amaze me how many people are willing to help (and speak some english too!) Take setbacks in stride. Sometimes there are just days when everything goes wrong. Frustrating at the time, these experiences often make the best travel stories and teach you the most.

Bratislava, Slovakia

2010-05-07T02:03:00.001-07:00

After picking me up at the Bratislava bus station, Marcela drives us back to he flat. We ride up the communist era buliding in a tiny 3 person elevator. The inside of her place is more welcoming, all hardwood floors, serene tones, and cozy spaces. My friend Lucia is from Bratislava and suggested I get in touch with Marcela. Marcela and her husband, Zoli, are friendly and I like them immediately. We sip slivovica, a kind of plum brandy, and flip through photos albums from her wedding and honeymoon in Jackson Hole. Lunch is brydzove halusky (gnocci with sheep cheese) at Koliba restaurant where we discuss Slovakia during the communist regime. They talk of elders waiting in line hours for food rations and the limited selection available. However, not everyone saw the economic transition from communism entirely positive. According to Zoli, some of the older generation never really adapted to the post-communist system and consequently feel lost in modern Slovakia.

We visit Red Stone Castle which just happens to feature actors role-playing the castle´s previous inhabitants on this particular day. The highlight of the outing, however, is the falcon area. I learn several interesting facts abou falcons such as how the mother often lays two eggs and kills the weaker bird shortly after birth, yikes that´s harsh! The audience oohs and ahhs as the falcon handlers entice the birds with small pieces of meat. The falcons glide right over us to fetch the food. One brushes agains the top of my head!

The next day, Marcela and I explore old town Bratislava. One fun thing to do is find all the quirky statues there such as the watcher, the photographer, and the man at work. The man at work is my favorite because next to him is a street performer dressed just like him. Cute! My favorite spot in town is a crumbling building where the windows hae been replaced with various recreations of Van Gough paintings. We eat Verdict and Marcela shows me The Diablo Bar where our mutual friend, Lucia used to work! We miss you Lucia!

Marcela and I meet up with her friend Annie to walk around the border town of Devin, where the Morana and Danube rivers meet. This town is signifigant because across the river is Austria and during communism that meant "freedom." There used to be a guarded fence running along the river and you might be shot trying to cross it! With Marcela agreeing to drive, Annie and I indulge in some "Tatras Tea" in the nearby cafe before heading to Bratislavas castle for an aerial view of the city. My last night in Slovakia is spent laughing over food and drink with Marcela, Zoli, and Annie back at the apartment. Thank you Marcela and Zoli for the wonderful hospitality and I hope you will return to Jackson someday for another visit!

Budapest, Hungary

2010-05-07T00:27:00.000-07:00

The train from Ljubljana to Budapest passes fields of bright yellow canola flowers. Surrounded by green grass and a blue sky, the scene is striking. I meet a Slovenian couple in the carriage next door. Anya co-owns a gallery with her brother and Yarenay is working on a project to turn a collection of comic books into a cartoon. They live together in Lake Bled and are visiting Budapest for the weekend. We end up talking for most of the journey. I discover they are staying at a hostel called Paprika and decide I will stay there as well if they still have vacancies. They do!

Some interesting new friends I meet include:

James from the UK who makes declarations such as "I´m not going to be happy until I go home with a love child"and sentences that start with "There´s nothing worse than___" Practicality, being left-handed, and people that refuse to join facebook fall into this category. James has an astounding range of knowledge when it comes to music, and he is not the least bit modest about this talent. Because there is nothing worse than modesty, obviously. James and I wander around Budapest, discussing disappointing ends to otherwise enjoyable movies as we cross the Szchenyi Chain Bridge.

Andi owns Paprika hostel. She has a mischeivious cat named Tiger who has a penchant for climbing up on the roof and mewing when he´s stuck. Tiger had to be resuced twice during my three day visit alone. Andi just started running and we enjoyed a leisurely run together on Margaret Island, one of the islands on the Danube in Budapest.

Felix works at Paprika. He is originally from Melbourne and teases me about my American accent. He introduces me to the best gyro I have ever eaten at the House of Hummus and does a fantastic impression of a frustrated Italian in front of Saint Stephans Basilica. Felix rounds up the guests for an evening at Morrisons Music Pub. I am usually not one for clubbing, this place is pretty interesting with its multiple level bars and dance floors. We all end up having a rolicking good time. I tore it up to some Lady Gaga, let me tell you.

In a traditional tourist sense, I did not take advantage of all Budapest has to offer. I only visited a few of its gorgeous buildings such as my favorite, the Museum of Applied Arts being my favorite. Nor did I soak in a thermal bath, another supposed Budapest must. (Although other guests said the best outdoor ones were uncomfortably hot this time of year) All I can say is long term travel definitely changes how you spend your time. It becomes exhausting to flit from one must see to the next. Sometimes, I want to gaze upon a beautiful scene and share that with another person. Sometims I just want to chill out, eat some greek salad and goulash, and watch a movie. Sure enough, by the time I move on from Budapest, my homesickness has subsided a bit. Thank you Paprika hostel friends!

Slovenia

2010-04-28T12:19:00.001-07:00

I see Tine waving at me the moment I step off the train in Ljubljana. Our connetion is through mutal friends back in Ohio. Tine belives that any friend of Eric and Becky is a friend of his, and so I am fortunate to have a charasmatic guide show me around Slovenia! We drive thirty minutes to his home in Duplej village. The houses in Duplej are constructed with the expectation that they will house multiple generations. Tines house has the feel of two studio apartments stacked on top of one another with his mom, Dragi, living on the first floor and Tine on the second. Dragi gives me a room next to hers on the first floor which is furnished with a large bed, two toasty duvets and a beat-up acoustic guitar. Love it.

After a delicious dinner of goulash, potato bits called noki, beets drizzled with pumpkin oil and red wine from the Primorsa region, Tine drives us to the nearby town of Kranj. We walk around, passing a hare krishna street band and the statue of France Preseren, Slovenias national poet. Back at the house, we sip chai and play Slovenia the board game. The object of the game is to visit all the destinations on the cards you draw before the other players. The rulebook states "We wish you a pleasant journey and do not forget that it does not count so much who the winner is. It is important that you learn mroe about Slovenia through this game." Ha, so cute. As I prepare for bed, Dragi hears me blowing my nose (this is a result of a cat allergy). She urges me to knock back a shot of Domaci Brenjevece for good health. This berry concoction is 40% alcohol and produces a pleasant sort of burn in my throat.

The sky sprinkles rain as we drive to Piran the next morning but relents once we arrive. Boats involved in a regatta race by. Old women peek out from behind curtained windows. Children kick a ball in a courtyard near the coastal path. Then I see a parade! Apparently, we have caught Pirans annual Solinarski Prazink (Salt Festival) which includes elements of traditional dress, music, and dance. Teenagers dressed in red velvet coats twirl blue patterned flags as they march down the street behind the drummers. We climb up the bell tower overlooking Tartini market. Tubas play a jaunty tune while couples dance. Lastovce birds fly above remnants of a castle to my left and the orange village rooftops to my right. Tine explains the roofs are angled and sealed specifically to handle burja, the strong winds Piran encounters.

We wind down a pathwhere bouquets of herbs adorn heavy wooden doors to the rose-coloerd Berecanka building, adjacent to Tartini Square. The market is busy with merchants selling wine, jewelry, soap, food, and various trinkets. I sample dried pears, figs, and homemade bread. Yum! For lunch, we split a platter of prosciutto, crusty bread olives, and sheep cheese accompanied by refosk wine. I love the cafe culture in Europe and how you can simply meander down a street until you find a place you want to eat--no driving required!

After Piran, we stop a the Skojan Cave area. Tours of the caves have closed for the day so we like to a lovely viewpoint past bori trees and preserved village buildings. The signposts are all in Slovenian so Tine translates. I joke that he could tell me they say just about anything and I would have to take his word for it. I enjoy looking a the karst formations and the rushing Reka river below. Slovenia is so beautiful! I love how accessible diverse landscapes are in this small country.

We spend the next day at Lake Bled. A rowing competition is taking place here. Fans cheer "Shimala, shimala, dai dai!" (almost there, come on come on!) We walk around the lake, admiring Bled's fortress high atop a rock formation. Boats ferry visitors to the lake's island church. Tine laughs a how often I am so struck by the scenery that I must stop to take a photo, write in my journal, or simply star in awe at the beauty before me. The karavanke mountains are particularly stunning today with tendrils of snow falling from icy peaks against a cloudless blue sky. I see many affectionate couples, both young and old. Tine's view on public displays of affection: "Americans are too limited. They say 'get a room' to couples kissing and hugging but in Europe no one would ever say that. In America, there is more talk about relationships and less action."

I'm rockin' out to the Slovenian version of Age of Aquarious as we drive a winding road framed by thin trees with lime green leaves. We hike to astonishingly beautiful Savica waterfall. Begin with a karst that touches the sky. Follow a diagonal path downward until you meet a double waterfall that cascades into a listerine-colored pool before plunging again over speckled rocks into the curvaceous river below. We wrap up the day exploring and relaxing at Bohinj where lovely cottages surround its lake.

Tine has to work during the weekdays and drops me off in Ljubljana for two of them. This city is home to about 200,000 residents--a perfect bite size capital for the likes of me. I walk past the Dragon bridge and the open-air market where merchants sell everything from shoes, to fresh flowers, to I feel slovenia shirts. I love the whimsy of this place. I see three people dressed in strange costumes handing out flyers for an event at a children's bookstore. Later on a woman rides by on an over-sized tricycle and hands me a newspaper. And I finally see the women wearing wacky, patterned tights like Marty mentioned he saw in Prague. I want some!

A gravel path leads up to Ljubljana's castle. It is also possible to reach by funicular, but the day is such a perfect temperature I feel compelled to hike it. I visit the free art exhibit in the castle's kazemate, an area previously used as a prison. The cool, cave-like, and dimly lit atmosphere lends an eerie aura to Rafael Samer's "Revelation." Most of the sculpted wax is geometric. Positioned atop a bed of woodchips, the metallic-hued cubes make me think I have stumbled upon a cache of alien presents within a dark forest. A higher platform displays a ring of perfectly formed golden roses. In between the two, a connecting platform holds a series of black wax boxes. I can't begin to guess what it all means but that is why art is so fun. There are as many perspectives as there are people.

Tine meets up with me after work and we stroll through Tivoli Park where there is an open-air photo exhibit about Slovenia's cave exploration history. I marvel at blown up photos of strange animals, such as the olm which has no pigment or eyes and senses heat with its body. There are couples lying on blankets in the grass, overturned bikes next to them. Tine challenges me to eat horse, so we order horse burgers at a joint called Hot Horse in the middle of the park. It is a bit tougher than a typical burger but not unpleasant. Dessert is Kremsnita, a blonde tiramisu sort of concoction that Tine promises will "knock my socks out." Mmm, it sure does!

The morning I leave for Budapest, I am a bit sad. I have so enjoyed getting to know Tine, his family, and gorgeous Slovenia I already feel attached to it.

Plitvice Lakes National Park, Croatia

2010-04-26T22:53:00.000-07:00

Other than a minor collision with a cow, my journey over the Bosnian-Croatia border near Bihac is uneventful. The van drops Marty and I in Grabovac, a tiny town about 8 km from the entrance to Plitvice Lakes National Park. Plitvice is surrounded by the Lika mountains and boasts sixteen lakes, forest trails, and countless waterfalls. It's a dynamic place where algae, moss, and the sedimentation of calcium carbonate work to continually change the natural features. The lakes colors can appear blue or green depending on the amount of travertine deposits in the water. I cannot wait to experience this place!

The most centrally located hotel is too pricey, so we start walking toward a cluster of houses nearby where we saw several "Sobe" (rooms) signs during the ride into town. We are delighted to find Lou who speaks great English and has a large room with two beds, hardwood floors, a nice bathroom and free wi-fi for 15 euros per person. Lou's husband kindly offers to drive us to the park entrance on his way to work tomorrow at 7:30am. Fantastic!

I wake to a chilly, overcast day but I am not deterred. The park is just opening as we arrive. At 110 kuna (about $20 usd) the entry fee is a little pricey but that also includes boat rides across two of the largest lakes. Marty, awesome friend that he is, holds my bag so I can go for a run, unencumbered. We agree to meet up later but we are not specific enough about our meeting place and end up running into each other out of sheer luck at the boat dock!

I feel amazing while running. It is one of those days where I feel like I could run forever. I want to explore as much of this unique landscape as possible. Waterfalls are everywhere. Long, wispy trickles. Thick, rushing flows. Tiny cascades right by my feet. They feed into lakes that are green today. Some are emerald while others look like green tea. I spot a small black salamander with orange spots between planks of the wooden walkway and another along the forested "K" trail. I pause at a particularly stunning viewpoint and savor some time of pure peace.

After hours of running and hiking, Marty and I are exhausted. The weather is also changing and rain is imminent. We hike back to the parks entrance. I sleep most of the way to Zagreb, Croatia's capital city. We stay at Buzz Backpackers, staffed by super sweet Andrea, who gives us the web discount even though we did not book in advance. Tomorrow Marty and I will part ways--he heads to Belgrade, Serbia and I am off to Ljubljana, Slovenia. We spent this last evening eating pizza, joking around, and sharing pictures. The next morning, Andrea makes crepes and of course we discuss American verses Croatian life. You might think this conversation gets old but I am having it with people from around the world, therefore receiving a new perspective each time. Andrew worked in the United States for a few years and enjoyed it but she prefers the slower pace of life near the Mediterranean. "Sometimes when you have too many choices it can make you frustrated and unhappy" she observes. Very true, my friend. However, when it comes to the delights of Europe, I am enjoying being spoiled for choice!

Beguiling Bosnia

2010-04-21T14:03:00.000-07:00

I am happy to see Marty when the bus pulls into Mostar. By his side is Lena and they both accompany me to her hostel nearby. Marty and I visit Mostar's most famous site--the Ottoman-style Stari Most bridge. The bridge was destroyed during the war but was completely rebuilt (with its "original" flaws and all) in 2004. I pass a cemetery. The date of birth engraved on the headstones varied, but the second date was almost universally 1994.

We find a cafe called Cafe ABC where I am ecstatic to find some lasagna with actual vegetables in it. Happy day! But I do try an authentic Bosnian meal as well--chicken legs with onions, tomatoes, and a piece of thick bread that feels like a cross between pita and naan.

We board a train bound for Sarajevo. The green-blue river is a mirror reflecting towering mountain peaks. My open window allows a cool evening breeze to circulate inside the train. I haven't been on a train since my journey from Greymouth to Christchurch in New Zealand. I almost forgot how much I love train travel--zooming through tunnels, clattering along the tracks, transfixed by an idyllic landscape out the window. The woman next to me works on a crossword puzzle. How can she concentrate on such an activity with these divine rock outcroppings that stretch from the riverbank to the clouds?

"My girl, I am making a pie for you." These are the first words I hear as I open my eyes the following morning and see Jasmina standing near near my hostel bed. Minutes later she reappears with a potato pie that is both filling and delicious. Afterward, Marty and I set off to visit the Tunnel Museum near Sarajevo's airport. We duck inside a bullet-scarred house and sit on ammunition crates to watch a movie about the tunnels function during the 1992-1995 war. Built in 1993, the tunnel was 800m long, 1m wide, and 1.6m tall. It was outfitted with rails to move carts of supplies quickly. Bosnian Serbs blocked access to the capital on 3 sides of Sarajevo. The fourth side was controlled by the U.N. and where the tunnel was built. The museum also contains artifacts from the war including weapons, shovels, aid packages, a gurney, and photos depicting damage to downtown Sarajevo buildings. It is amazing to think that just 15 years ago, this tunnel was the only artery into Sarajevo.

The quaint Bascarsijla (old city area) is full of cute boutiques and cool sites such as the Latin Bridge, Eternal Flame, and several mosques. Battle-scarred buildings stand near trendy cafes and interesting public art. A child plays an accordion on the street, hoping a few coins will be tossed his way. Catholic churches, Orthodox churches, and Synagogues coexist here. Colorful buildings sit atop hills encircling the city. Perhaps it is due to the fact that I am visiting in the spring instead of the summer, but the streets are uncrowded and the pace unhurried here.

However, two days in any city is enough for me. I am ready to return to the trails for some gorgeous runs!

Dubrovnik, Croatia

2010-04-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

An official at the Montenegro/Croatia border crossing empties the entire contents of my backpack and laughs when he finds my tampons. What is up with that? I am the last one through the line and it takes me so long to put everything back in my pack that the bus almost leaves without me. It is already moving when I sprint to catch up with it and hop in. That was a close one!

Several people are waiting to show me their available rooms when I arrive at the Dubrovnik bus station. Sanya is the most aggressive and gets my business because she has a private room available for 80 Kuna (about $15 usd and a good price in this town) However, I later regret staying with her when I meet Sado who owns the Begovec hostel. He claims Sanya the "crazy, gypsy woman" once beat him with an umbrella to deter him from competing with her business! I like Sado's gentle demeanor and decide to stay with him the next night. After he gives me tea and a croissant, Sado shows me the shells that fell in the hostel's garden during the war. Amazingly, the hostel remained open during that time! I make a new friend named Marty. He is headed to Mostar and I tell him I will be there the next day and maybe we will see each other.

On my way to Dubrovnik's Stari Grad, I meet Harold from Norway. Harold is on a tour of the Balkans with thirty other people from his former workplace. He is the one who informs me about the volcano eruption in Iceland and how it has suspended air traffic throughout Europe. Wow, the events I miss not speaking the language or watching television!

I stroll through Pile Gate then ascend the steps on my left to Dubrovnik's ancient city walls. This pathway leads you around the perimeter of Old Town, offering sublime views of the sparkling Adriatic sea. A bird glides above a sea of slanted, orange rooftops. Laundry hangs on a line near the green wooden shutters of a peeling building. Men crouch on the rocks below, fishing as glass-bottomed boats float by. I hear laughter, conversation, and the clinking of silverware from diners at seaside cafes. Potted plants sit on rooftop terraces surrounded by fragrant orange and lemon trees. It is a perfect sunny day in a fairytale castle!

I walk around the Stradun taking photographs of whatever catches my attention. A child of about 2 runs around outside Rector's Palace. A man who is not his father picks him up, hugs him, then sets him down again. The little boy's mother is not fazed by this stranger's affection. I get the impression Croatia does not share America's intense child molestation/abduction fears. I watch two elderly ladies walk arm and arm and two teenage boys kick a soccer ball back and forth. A group of boys sit in a line on the Onofrio Fountain checking out the girls passing by. There are baroque churches to lean on and ocean views to marvel at. There is a maze of crumbling walls to wander and patches of sunlight to bask in. And there are too many tempting desserts trying to entice me! Walking around this breezy, gorgeous city it is hard to believe almost 70% of Old Town's 824 buildings were hit by shells in the early 1990s. Thankfully, everything has since been restored, using the original materials and techniques whenever possible. Visitors have been pouring into this lovely city ever since!

Montenegro

2010-04-17T00:31:00.000-07:00

Getting from Shkodra, Albania to Ulcinj, Montenegro is a bit frustrating. Supposedly there is a 3pm bus to Ulcinj but it never shows up in front of the red building next to the bank (there is no official bus station) Some taxi drivers say the bus comes at 4 while others deny its existence entirely and offer to take me over the border for 10 euros instead. Eventually I find a driver who charges just 5 euros (same price as the bus) and we're off. The road to Ulcinj is beautiful in a moody, coastal Oregon type of way. An hour and a half later, he drops me off in the center of town. I am starving so I walk into the first place I see--Cafe Piramida. The majority of Ulcinj's population is Albanian and the entire menu is in Montenegrin and Albanian except for the word "hamburger." Normally, I would take a chance and point to something on the menu (I ate snake, remember?) but I am too hungry to be experimental today. They serve it on some kind of ciabatta bread and it is delicious.

I walk along the windy coast then turn left to find the lodging I read about just a few minutes away from the beach. Score! I am staying in a private suite with a large bed, private bath, and kitchenette I negotiated for 10 euros. Accommodation Milla is owned by a couple in their 70s and their two sons "Tony" and "Jimmy" help them run it. I notice Tony is walking funny as he shows me to my room.

Me: "Don't worry, I can find it. It looks like it hurts for you to walk down the stairs."
Tony: "I did not get hurt, I just broke both legs in a car accident in Chicago. I do not want to move to Chicago."

Tony cracks me up. My stay includes free internet on the family computer. It's an odd scene as I check my email while Tony's family watches the Albanian version Who wants to be a millionaire and Tony hovers over my shoulder, watching me type. He tries to get me to eat copious amounts of russian salad and drink coca cola instead of water because "water's boring." His family is super nice and tells me check out is "whatever time I like."

Walking to the bus station, a light rain gives way to a torrential downpour. I am soaked as I board a northbound bus. Despite the rotten weather, there is no denying Montenegro is beautiful. I hop out and indulge in a piece of cherry and pineapple cake at Hotel Adriatic which overlooks the beautiful island of Sveti Stefan. Sveti Stefan is an odd place--it is an tiny resort island connected to the main land by a sand isthmus. It used to be a popular hangout for celebrities in the 70s but at present time is closed and it is unknown when it will reopen. After my amazing cake with a view, I bus to Budva.

The rain picks up again as I wander Budva's Stari Grad (Old Town) area. I see a pair of friends walking together under a large umbrella and I am struck by a pang of homesickness. I am lonely and walking around in the cold rain. Poor me. But the day improves from there. A woman suddenly pops out of a boutique and says "Are you looking for the hostel?" Ummm...sure? I was not planning on staying in Budva but as it is pouring rain exploring town is not a very appealing option. Minutes later I an ensconced in thick blankets in the privacy of my own room since no one else checks in to the other beds! I take a warm bath and watch Montenegro's VH1 which is much better than ours because they play all the awesome music videos from the 80s and 90s without interruption from crap shows. Around 7pm the rain finally ceases and I emerge to tour the cool churches nearby. Afterward, I walk the coastal path where I meet Bobba and Nikki from Hungary. Nikki speaks very little English, but Bobba is fluent from the time she spent living in London. They are taking this roadtrip before Bobba begins a new job working as a waitress on a cruise ship in Orlando. They have a car and before I know it we have made plans to tour the Bay of Kotor together tomorrow. Yay!

Kotor was busier than I expected, with multiple tour groups bustling through the Stari Grad. However, the crowds thinned out once we began the ascent of St. John mountain through the fortifications. I love seeing the ramparts, towers, and gates and the view of the bay below is surreal. Dark mountains shrouded by tufts of cloud soar above cerulean waters and crayola green grass. Hiking through these postcard landscapes never seems to lose its magic for me.

We continue around the bay and view two islands. The monks live on one and the nuns on the other. I wonder if they ever visit one another on special occasions? We listen to Hungarian gypsy music, which Bobba attempts to translate. "This guy has a devil in a box and the devil keeps moving the more he shakes the box," she explains. "How about this one?" I ask. "This guy is saying that after you fulfill one dream, you need to find another dream." I like that.

Rushing waterfalls, crumbling buildings, and breathtaking views of the bay make for a wonderful day. After exchanging information, the girls kindly drop me off in Herceg Novi, a town near the Montenegro/Croatian border. I tell the woman in the tourism office adjacent to the bus station the price I want to pay for lodging and she phones a local woman for me to stay with. Nga is an adorable grandmother who dotes on her 9-month old grandson she refers to as "the Inspector." The baby has huge, inquisitive blue eyes and I spend some time playing with him that evening.
It has been over three months since the conclusion of my nanny job and I miss being around children!

Albania

2010-04-15T10:30:00.000-07:00

The bus ride from Meteora to Berat, Albania is a ten hour overnight journey through winding, pot-holed roads. It's 8:30am when I ask the driver to drop me off at Hotel Palma then walk across the footbridge and up the cobblestone path to Berat Backpackers. I open the large wooden door to a beautiful veranda overlooking the white ottoman houses the town is famous for and the rushing Osum river. The hostel is as silent as a tomb. The empty eight-person dorm has hardwood floors and butter colored walls. I toss my pack on a lower bunk near the window and search for someone that works here. I hear someone stirring in the room next door and knock on the door. Moments later, a short blonde girl comes out and introduces herself as Louisa. I learn that Louisa and her boyfriend Joe are Brits traveling from London to Australia over the next yera. The hostel owner, Scoti, offered them free room and board in exchange for work at the hostel. They are a really cute couple and I like them immediately. Berat Backpackers is a great deal--10 euros buys you a bed, breakfast, and a lounge furnished with music that I load onto my ipod (hooray for new music!)

I change some euros into the Albanian currency, lek, and set off to explore the remains of Berat Castle, Kalasa. Walking up the steep cobblestone path, I pass two men prodding a pack horse up the hill! I enjoy the area, especially the lovely Byzantine church but what really interests me is the adjacent hillside where I find several mushroom-shaped concrete bunkers. Around 700,000 of these bunkers were built during former dictator Enver Hoxha's reign as protection against possible invasion. They are extremely difficult to destroy and so in recent years some people have tried to make the best of their prescence by painting them in fun colors. Strange as they are, they are a connection to Albania's past. Walking back down the hill I visit the Ethnographic Museum filled with artifacts from Albanian history including clothing and tools. I find the recreated traditional Albanian home most interesting as it reveals Albania's very patriarchal past. The main bedroom for men and guests is large and somewhat lavish with animal skin blankets and fancy flatware on a low table. The women, however, stay in a separate spartan room up a nearby staircase.

My four days in Berat are filled with exploring during the day and relaxing with Lousia, Joe, and the cast of characters that arrive each night. A french guy introduces us to bands such as Balkan Beat Box and the No Smoking Orchestra which he describes as"Turbo Folk."
"What are the songs about" I ask. "Mostly about Serbians drinking and losing your wives" he replies. Well, it's certainly more interesting than the top 40 back home! One night, Vinko makes us crepes. Another night Brian, the new chef who hails from Houston, whips up an amazing stirfry for all of us.

One day, I walk across the footbridge to the other side of the river intending to visit St. Michael's church only to find it locked. A girl in the house next door introduces herself as Luciana and asks me if I want to take a walk to a lookout point. Her two sisters, Nela and Simoni, accompany us and by the time we reach the top, a huge rainbow has formed across the late afternoon sky. Simoni picks a bouquet of wildflowers for me from behind their house, a gesture I find very touching. Luciana invites me inside where I meet her parents. Their mother serves me homemade cherry liquier and they tell me their dream of moving to Boston. They ask me about my work, traveling, and living in America. "Every Albanian wants to move to America" Luciana says. As a visitor to Berat, I see the beautiful architecture, meet hospitable people, and run the hilly terrian. But to Luciana's family sees a country with few jobs and opportunities so they want to move on. At the end of the visit, we exchange emails and promise to keep in touch. I am definitely curious to see what life has in store for them!

Greece

2010-04-07T01:05:00.000-07:00

After an eleven hour flight from Bangkok, I enter Athens exhausted but happy. A cool breeze accompanies me as I walk from Syngatma square to my hostel, Athens Backpackers. I check in and pick up the letter containing my new ATM card. I'm so happy it made it safe and sound!

I walk along a pedestrian street lined with cafes, shops, and street musicians to the Acropolis. It is wonderful and strange to be standing in the middle of such lauded history. Below me, I see the Theater of Herod Atticus, a beautiful space still used for concerts today. The Temple of Olympian Zeus rises in the distance. I stroll around the Parthenon. This structure is amazing in that the columns are specifically curved in such a way that they look perfectly straight. The sprawling city of Athens looks beautiful from this vantage point, a sea of white buildings ringed by lush green hills. The only downside to a site like the Acropolis is you have to share it with droves of tour groups, teenagers on school trips, tired children, etc. Like my experience at Angkor Wat, I realize this traffic is par for the course and just accept this is part of such a world-renowned site. Other highlights of Athens include wandering through the markets of Monastiraki and visiting a bouzouki shop. The bouzouki is a pear-shaped instrument similar to a mandolin popular in Greek music. Andy shows me bouzoukis in various sizes, styles, and colors and plays a little for me. Cool!

After two days in Athens, I've had enough of the big city and long for nature. Six hours on a KTEL bus brings me to Trikala. Another short ride and I reach Meteora where rock formations dominate the morning sky. Meteora is famous for its Byzantine monasteries perched atop pillars of rock. It is comprised of two villages--Kalambaka is the larger one while Kastriki is tiny and closer to the mountains. I ask to be dropped in Kastriki's town center so I can scope out my lodging options on foot. The air is chilly and silent as I walk along the winding until I see a campground called Camping the Cave. "Yasas," I call inside an open door. A man answers "Hello!" I'm excited someone speaks enough English to communicate! Apostolos offers me cake and a magenta hard boiled egg.

me: "Mmm, what is this called?" I ask munching the crumbly dessert.
Apostolos: "Cake."
me: "I mean, what kind of cake is it?"
Apostolos: "Greek cake"

I never do find out the name but its delicious and Apostolos will offer it to me every day. I decide to stay in a defunct camper on the premises for 10 euros a night. It's a little musty inside but comes equipped with six fluffy blankets to keep me warm during the chilly nights. The campground is an odd place with a chatty macaw parrot, a pony for riding, and several dogs in residence. A sign reads "Please keep the pool clean. Don't use sun oil. Not spit. Don't pee. Be quiet. Not nose blowing."

"Well, I'm off to explore" I tell Apostolos. "Wait 20 minutes. I call Yannis; he will drive you." I say I don't have much money to pay for such a service but thanks anyway. "It's free, he does work for me sometime." So I end up having my own personal driver to The Monastery of the Holy Trinity (Agia Triada in Greek). Fun Fact: this monastery was used as the base by villain Aris Kristasos in the James Bond flick For Your Eyes Only. I thank Yannis for the ride and we agree to meet up later. It's a lovely structure with its terra cotta tiled floors, arched doorways and wood beam ceilings. One room is covered in frescos which surround thirteen intricately carved wood chairs. I large brass candle holder hangs from the dome ceiling. A light blue cable car ferries the two monks in residence to and from the entrance. Unfortunately, visitors are forbidden to use it.

The evening before Easter, Yannis takes me to Kastriki's town square where everyone gathers at the base of the church. Everyone holds candles and listens to the priest perform some kind of ceremony. At midnight the church bells clang and fireworks crackle across the night sky. What a magical way to ring in Easter!

When I open the camper door on Easter morning, it is already smoky from the villagers cooking their lamb. I follow Yannis's directions to the path that leads to Holy Spirit mountain. Walk past the church and turn right behind the old white school. Follow path to rose-colored house where it becomes a dirt path behind it. Climb over rocks and trail continues all the way up the mountain. I hike to the top of Holy Spirit mountain where the summit offers a panoramic view. In front of me the snow-covered Pindos mountains rise in the distance. Behind me, sunlight shines through pillars of rock. And below, music wafts up from the villages on a cool and soft wind. I am flooded with complete happiness! I meditate, journal, and laze in the sunshine until I feel like coming down. Later on, I fill my hungry belly with lamb, greek salad, yogurt, and crusty bread. I usually do not include much meat in my diet but for some reason it appeals to me here!

I spend four blissful days in Meteora. I trail run the outskirts of the villages. I laugh with Apostolos's son, Bill, who loves to listen to Michael Jackson on my ipod and tell me about his favorite movie "the Shrek." I visit two more gorgeous monasteries--Rousanou and St. Nicholas. I eat zucchini with garlic dip and Greek salads filled with juicy tomatoes and crispy cucumbers at Taverna Gardenia. I roam the streets of Kalambaka and people watch from my perch near the fountains. I drink too much wine and call friends from the All Time cafe. Meteora means "in the heavens above." It certainly felt like it.

Europe--only 2 months left!

2010-04-02T04:05:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe it's already April! I arrived in Athens, Greece early yesterday morning. My hostel is just a few minutes walk away from the Acropolis and other ancient archeological sites! Temperatures are in the 60s, a welcome departure from boiling southeast asia. There are many aspects of Europe I am looking forward to experience but living on the euro for the next two months in not one of them! Internet cafes are pricey, therefore, I will blogging less frequently while in this region of the world to save some coin.

The tentative plan is to move north along the Adriatic coast as follows: Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, and then cut through Austria to Slovakia and finally the Czech Republic. I fly from Prague to Amsterdam May 20.

Have a wonderful Easter and I will be in touch soon!

Ho Chi Mihn City: War Remnants & Reunification

2010-04-01T04:11:00.000-07:00

I only spent a day and a half in Ho Chi Mihn City, but I did have a chance to visit both the War Remants Museum and the Reunification Palace. After touring the Killing Fields and Genocide Museum in Cambodia, I thought I might have developed some tolerance for the disturbing images by now but this was not the case. I weeped at the photos of the massacre at My Lai. Vietmanese babies form with deformaties caused by Agent Orange and other defoliants sprayed during the war. One possible effect of exposure to this chemical are limbs that look extremely shriveled. When Laura and I were having lunch, I noticed a man slowly scooting across the street on his butt. His non-functional legs had the same strange emaciated look to them. This is just a host of terrible ailments related to defoliant exposure. America used over 70 million liters of toxic chemicals defoliants inflicted extensive damage to people, communities, and land during the Vietnam War. The War Remnants certainly speaks from the Vietnamese point of view, however, many of the photographs and stories are derived from American publications such as Time and Life magazines.

Other interesting/ heartbreaking areas of the museum include:

-The Imprisonment System section, where I learned how south vietnam used tiny "tiger cages" to imprison north vietnamese soldiers. The confined space was so small, some prisoners suffered permanent injuries to their limbs.

-Posters and pictures around the world from international anti-war movements.

-Weapons used by America on display outside the museum including a B.52 bomber plane, tanks, and a seismic bomb that causes destruction within a 100m radius.

We followed War Remnants with a visit to Reunification Palace. The Reunification Palace is an eerie place frozen in time ever since the North Vietnmanese tanks bulldozed through the iron gates in 1975 and "Saigon" was renamed "Ho Chi Mihn City." The rooms are still decorated in the same decor. I especially enjoyed the telecommunications center in the basement--a network of claustrophobic tunnels displaying spartan surroundings, huge radio transistors, and rotary phones.

Fearing bag snatchers, cantankerous tuk tuk drivers, and a city littered with trash, I found Ho Chi Mihn much safer, cleaner, and easier to manage than I expected. Of course, my hotel was in Pham New Lao the backpacker district where travelers every whim is catered to. Many hotels offer free internet access, breakfast, and cable television for under $15. If you don't like a particular one, walk for two minutes and someone else will call out to you to check out their room. Stores stock seemingly every type of bootlegged media--dvds, Lonely Planet guidebooks, popular novels--it's all here. One unique store, Propaganda Posters, sells posters from the Vietnam War era. An English translation appears in the right hand corner of each one such as "If Ho Chi Mihn says it is victory, it is victory" and "4000 American planes shot down."

My brief stay in Ho Chi Mihn City wraps up my week-long tour of southern Vietnam. Despite some tummy troubles, overall I enjoyed my experiences in this region of the world. The Vietnamese people of the Mekong river delta region were kind, welcoming, and curious. I hope tourism helps Vietnam achieve a more prosperous future.

Biking Ben Tre

2010-03-29T03:42:00.000-07:00

It was at Ben Tre that the Viet Cong ambushed the Army of the Republic of Vietnam during the Tet Offensive. So the town probably doesn't leap into people's minds as a viable vacation spot. Over 40 years later, Ben Tre is a picturesque river town best viewed from the seat of a bike.

A town of about 100,000 residents, Ben Tre is more laid than Chau Doc and Can Tho. No one hassled us about a moto ride when we arrived at the bus station; we had to hunt one down ourselves! Our guesthouse, Phuong Hoang, has a breezy terrace overlooking lovely Truc Giang Lake. The man-made lake is ringed by trees,cafes, and quirky trash cans shaped like penguins.

Besides the manufacturing of coconut candy, Ben Tre does not possess any specific tourist draws. I enjoy walking around town observing people engaging in their everyday lives without the hassles that plague more touristed towns. Many residents appear to have a higher socioeconomic status here than in Chau Doc or Can Tho. There are the merchants stooped over their wares at markets but locals playing volleyball, children painting pictures, and adults exercising by the lake are also visible. It is probably because tourism is still new in Ben Tre that people stare at Laura and I everywhere we go. Children call out "Hello!" to us, breaking into grins and giggles when we answer.

Best meal award goes to Nam Son restaurant, which serves plump shrimp, and a variety of tasty veggies along with the best pepper I've ever had over a bed of rice. At the local market, I purchase an entire pineapple, already carved and ready to eat for about 30 cents. And the grocery store even have Snickers!

One morning we rent (the only!) two wobbly bikes from the town's sleepy tourist building. We cross the bridge away from the urban area into the rustic settlement on the other side of the Mekong. Palm fronds brush the top of my head as I wind along narrow pathways and concrete bridges over muddy waters. Children dressed in school uniforms amble by, dogs lounge in a patch of sun, and women chat while leaning against their bicycles. I see stacks of coconuts on the riverbank and trees heavy with prickly jackfruit. Some of the homes consist of the typical thatch construction I've seen but others are sturdy cottages painted in pastel colors. We discover a lovely yellow temple in the woods, decorated with wood carved swans. Pedaling beneath the clear blue sky and lush landscape, I am flooded with happiness from the simple pleasures of Ben Tre.

Can Tho

2010-03-25T21:33:00.000-07:00

Upon entering the most disgusting bathroom of my life (hole dark brown from recent deposit, wet floor, clammy air, adjacent to a cement block filled with dead flies floating on top of putrid water) I discover a rottweiler is chained in the stall next door, barking ferociously. Laura, outside, says he's chained but neither of us is sure how long the chain is. I peek from behind the door and see his snarling snout to my left. Terrified, I take a deep breath, open the door, and sprint toward the van. He barks in a frenzy, teeth gnashing but the metal chain pulls tight. Thank God!

The remainder of the journey from Chau Doc to Can Tho is a madcap adventure filled with several moments of "air time" where my butt lifts off my seat. At one point, our van nearly collides with a red bus. Driving in Vietnam is on the right, but you would never know it we spend so much time in the left lane passing other vehicles, only returning to the right lane to avoid on-coming traffic at the last second. "Isn't this insane?" I comment to the French girl next to me in the very back row. "It's ok" she returns "If we get hit it will only crush the ones in front."

We finally arrive in Can Tho and decide to sooth our nerves with a massage. Wanting to contribute money to a good cause, we choose a place that employs blind massage therapists. As Laura and I received our massages, I felt a bit awkward at first but the massage was great and I quickly gave into the relaxation.

The next morning, Laura, Tobias, and Katya depart for a boat trip of the floating markets (boats where merchants sell and trade produce). I stay behind due to tummy trouble and at first I am really disappointed. This is THE attraction in Can Tho, how can I miss it? But 6 hours straight on a boat with no bathroom access would be miserable. But after the cramping subsides, I end up having a nice day. I read, watch the BBC, drink copious amounts of water, chat with a friend, and before I know it I feel much better. On a lengthy trip like this, slowing down sometimes is important.

Can Tho is the largest city in the Mekong Delta. The city is one of the largest producers of rice, fruit, vegetables, and fish in Vietnam. Around 6am, it is as if someone flips a switch and Can Tho springs into action. Within the Huy Hoang Hotel, I hear people mill about the lobby, knock on doors, and clink their cutlery during breakfast. Motorcyles honk and someone begins hammering in the distance. Outside, people are everywhere--shopping, driving, spitting, eating, talking, sweating. My favorite time is around 10pm when the town quiets again. Fresh fruit juice in hand, I walk the riverfront under trees festooned with Christmas lights and past the golden statue of Ho Chi Mihn. Couples snuggle on benches as a few remaining boats meander down the Mekong.

As much as I love Asian food, I find some of the menu choices a little hard to stomach. Try these on for size:

Cowtail and hooves stewed with citronella
sweet and sour fish stomach
fried rat
crispy breaded frog
snake with vegetables

The snakes live in a small terrarium behind the tables. A Dutch guy named announces he has ordered the snake and wants me to try some. Well, when in Rome right? I grip a small piece with chopsticks and place it in my mouth. It tastes like the spicy sauce it's bathed in but I can also detect some scaliness on my tongue. Robert says he's ordering fried rat for dinner but I decline participation this time! After my culinary bravery, I allow myself to be lazy and order lasanga for dinner and a banana pancake for breakfast at a place called Cappuccino. Although I love the asian staples of noodles and rice, I need a break!

Chau Doc, Vietnam

2010-03-25T05:50:00.000-07:00

Traveling from Vinh Xuong Cambodia to Kaam Samnor, Vietnam is my first border crossing by boat. This particular crossing is in the southernmost region of mainland Vietnam--the Mekong Delta. After an hour or so in a van, I walk down to the Mekong river, cross a flimsy plank of wood, and onto a small blue ferry. The first thing I notice is the toliet area, which has no roof and offers the best view on the vessel. There are 8 other passengers. We motor past small villages, wooden boats, and the occassional buddhist temple.

A charismatic woman named San explains the Vietnam entry process. "Visa take 20 minutes. You relax, lunch, toliet." She leads us past a security camera which will apparently gauge our level of health and urges us to smile. We pass a quarantine area with a few people laying on cots. It doesn't seem like a place I want to spend time. After a lunch of rice and vegetables, she returns clasping the stack of passports. "Remember, keep departure card otherwise you need to marry a Vietmanese" she jokes.

San accompanies us on the remaining 3 hour journey to Chau Doc. The river narrows, providing a better view of life along the Mekong Delta. A young boy waves at me while his mother lifts laundry into the river. Two older children bath their cows and themselves in the muddy Mekong. Wearing the signature conical Vietmanese hats, workers toil in rice paddies. San directs our attention to "monkey bridge," an unbelievably slight wooden construction. As we pass underneath it, I'm convinced it would collapse under the weight of a typical American.

The moment we enter Chau Doc, we are admist a bustling market filled with baskets of rice, frying meat, and some kind of unidentifiable chunky yellow concoction in a vat. We settle on a guesthouse and Tobias and Katia, a German couple from the boat ride, decide to stay at the same one. We spend the rest of evening dining and swapping travel stories.

It is amazing how well rested I am after a night of air conditioning! Nearing April, southeast Asia continues to become more sweltering by the day. Laura and I began our journey committed to staying in the cheapest accomodation but now we realize how paying a few extra dollars for the occassional amenity can really boost morale! The moment I step outside my cool oasis, I'm struck by the heat and the buzzing world outside. A female vendor wearing a surgeon's mask holds the strings of a mass of brightly colored balloons, hoping for a sale. She is one small part of the enormous market sprawling outside the guesthouse. Foreign markets facinate me and Chau Doc does not disappoint. The fresh fruits, vegetables, and spices are a joy to walk through. The lovely smell of cilantro enters my nostrils. But the meat area is another story! I watch as a woman expertly guts, cleans, and bags the fish for a customer in under a minute. Everything is out in the open air to be smelled, inspected, haggled over. The smell of hot meat makes me queasy. A pig's head sits atop a wooden table surrounded by pig ears and innards. Chickens and ducks squirm and squak from pens. A girl places a live chicken in a tote bag with the nonchalance an american might toss plastic wrapped Tyson chicken breasts into a grocery cart. Women chop hunks of beef with cleavers, swatting flies of the merchandise. The lanes are impossibly narrow yet somehow people, motorcyles, bicycles, carts, and trays dance through. Yes, the markets can be delightful and appalling but never, ever boring.

Interesting Vietnam factoid of the day:
-Vietnam blocks the use of social networking sites such as Facebook. Researching this a bit, I discovered this occured because people were using it for political dissent. I have also had some difficulty signing into my blog at times and strange experiences with Skype interrupting my calls with a shrill noise and hanging up or even signing out completely. Not sure what to think about that.

Note: Computer speed has been extremely slow here. It is unlikely I will be able to post new pictures for awhile!

Siem Reap

2010-03-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

It's a few hours into my journey from Phomn Pehn to Siem Reap when I smell burning plastic. I see what looks like smoke near the mounted television in the left hand corner. I motion to the bus attendant and express my concern by pointing to the smoke. He pats the t.v. and says it's "no problem." For awhile I am convinced the bus will burst into flames or I will suffocate from smoke inhalation but eventually the smell and the smoke ceases. I never do find out what the issue was. Out my window, people toil in green fields and shacks of with wood or grass walls sit on stilts. listen to my ipod nearly full-volume in an attept to drown out our driver's incessant honking. During the 7 hour trip, he honks to signal his approach to overtake each vehicle by learning on the horn for several seconds. At a pit stop for food, I survey the scene. Monks smoke and check cell phones while goats feast on a pile of trash. Women sell snacks wrapped in plastic bags hanging from an awning. I order rice with spinach, bamboo shoots, egg, herbs, and chili sauce. It's delicious.

The vibe in Siem Reap is definitely lighter than when we were in Phomn Pehn. (Although after visiting the Killing Fields and an infamous prison, your mood can really only improve.) Due to it's proxmity to the famous temples of Angkor Wat, Siem Reap is a town with numerous tourist-oriented services from upscale hotels to westernized restaurants. Laura and I choose Smiley's guesthouse for $8. This buys us two single beds, a couch, coffee table, tv, clean bathroom, fan, and a narrow balcony. Once you get outside of the tourist cluster of hotels, massage parlors, and internet shops the road gives way to holey, dilapidated shanties. Merchants sell fruit from wheeled carts while children play near litter-strewn buildings on dusty side streets. An official holding a nightstick paces outside a minimart. I watch a man wash his dishes with a stiff blue brush in the muddy river.

In the evening, we explore the gigantic night market. Merchants entice with an array of items and services including scarves, paintings, bootlegged guidebooks, and 20 minutes in a tank of fish that eat the dead skin off your toes (we didn't inuldge). Six landmine amputee victims play music behind a sign requesting a donation. As we stroll through the corridors, I hear "Hey Lady, you buy something? Good price for you." My two most successful bargining techniques are as follows: 1) Always be willing to walk away if your price is not accepted. Many times it will be as soon as you turn to leave. 2) Put only the amount you want to spend on an item in your wallet and the rest in a separate place. Apologize to the vendor and say this is all you have on you. Many will take that amount rather than lose a sale entirely. I am always polite in my negotiations with merchants but I'm not ridden with guilt over offering low prices. They will never sell to you at a loss.

The next morning we depart the guesthouse promptly at 5:15am with Hinda. Hinda is the tuk tuk driver we hired for the day to tour the temples of Angkor Wat. The cool early morning wind whips through my hair as we race toward the temples. For those of you unfamiliar, Angkor Wat is the largest religious monument in the world. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ankor_Wat. Ankor Wat is the number one tourist destination in Cambodia and this is apparent as soon as we arrive and see the droves of people milling about. I escape to a quiet spot further away and watch the sunrise over the five towers. My experience at Angkor Wat is mixed. On one hand, the temples are undeniably beautiful. I enjoyed clambering up steep stairs, viewing ruins intertwined with trees, and admiring the intricate details carved into the rock. Upon entering one particular pagoda, we were instructed to thump our chests seven times for good luck. When we did, the sound echoed like a drum! The downside to this beautiful, amazing, site is with millions of visitors come scores of people trying to sell you things. After each temple they would gather around you. "You want cold drink/ t-shirt/ bracelet/ " or whatever other trinkets they happened to have. I understand they are making a living but it is also draining to always have to firmly say "No" and walk away every time. After eight hours of temple touring, we told Hinda we were ready to head back to Siem Reap! Still, I am glad we had the opportunity to visit Angkor Wat!

Phomn Pehn, Cambodia

2010-03-18T22:31:00.001-07:00

I am definitely not in familiar territory any longer. Case in point--the Cambodia visa on arrival process. I step up to the counter to offer my documents and passport photo when I see one laying on the floor and think I've dropped it. Only after the photo is in the official's hand do I realize the face in the photo is not mine! I attempt to correct the mistake but he waves me away to the next station. I try again with the next official but he says it's ok and requests the $20 fee. The photo does not appear in my actual passport and the visa is granted. My customs card is never taken. I decide not to worry about it and exit the airport. Outside, Laura and I are immediately offered rides to the town center. We agree on a price of $2 for the 20 minute ride to Tat guesthouse.

Scenes from a tuk tuk ride--Dozens of mopeds vie for position. There is no apparent limit on how many vehicles can cluster in a single lane; the result is a herd of tuk tuks, mopeds, cars, and bikes moving together. Many of the mopeds have multiple people on them, as many as four on a single machine! Our driver makes one stop for gas. He calmy walks across four lanes of oncoming traffic to the gas station for a bottle of gas and back, never flinching! Laura and I have not yet achieved feat--we still flail and run for our lives.

Tat's guesthouse is run by smiling, fifty-ish, raven haired Tat. Tat speaks good English (French too) and is almost constantly followed around by her excitable orange dog. She is extremely helpful, initiating the process for our Vietnam visas, pointing us in the direction of tasty, cheap food, and arranging our bus ride from Phomn Pehn to Siem Reap. Our large bed sits on an off-white tile floor. We have a wicker bookshelf, wood vanity, and a small television mounted on the wall. Our window is framed by gold curtains and overlooks a series of corrugated metal rooves of shantys below. The room costs a budget-friendly $3.50. The only problem is the bed has a few fleas jumping on it. We spray the sheets with DEET and it's much better.

Our first Cambodian meal is at Vihear Sour Restaurant just down the street from our guesthouse. It appears we are the non-locals in the joint and there is only one other female diner. Laura orders a "small"Ankor beer that turns out to be a pitcher! Whenver we take a single gulp, our waitress refills our glass to the top. My fried eel is tasty but I feel guilty eating it as a woman with black teeth begs nearby. I offer the food to her but she does not take it.

The next morning we wake up early and catch a tuk tuk to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. I am somewhat familiar with the history of the place. Choeung Ek (and many other places in Cambodia) was the site where the Khmer Rouge massacred more than 200,000 people in an effort to cleanse the Cambodian population of anyone they deemed an intellectual (or "new" people) and therefore a theat to their vision of an agrarian communist society. Their methods of murder were many and varied. Soldiers bashed babies heads against tree trunks. Tools such as machetes, axes, even garden hoes were used to blugeon victims to death in an effort to save costly ammunition. A sign by the "Magic Tree"details how a large speaker was hung here to drown out the screams of prisoners. The memorial stupa is a glass case filled with the skulls of victims. Plots of mass graves surround it. A nearby building offers further information. The killing was arbitrary--someone wearing glasses might be an intellectual and therefore killed. Often, entire families were killed to prevent a member from exacting revenge. When I see the remnants of baby clothes salvaged from the fields, I find it difficult to hold back tears.

Although emotionally drained, we decide to make a stop at Tuol Sleng. Tuol Sleng was originally a high school converted into a prison where people were interrogated before meeting their demise in the Killing Fields. Now it houses The Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. The building is straight out of a horror movie. Barbed wire surrounds the perimeter, photos of emaciated victims line the walls, and rusty iron beds with pieces of shackle sit on the orange and white tiled classrooms. Upstairs, the movie "Bophana" tells the tragic story of the fall of Phomn Pehn to the Khmer Rouge thorugh the eyes of a mother who's son and daugher in law were eventually executed. Paintings by Vann Nath, a former inmate, depict the many types of torture performed in the prison, including water boarding, ripping off finger nails with pliars, and electric shock.

The atrocities the Cambodian people suffered under the Khmer Rouge are so far from my reality they are difficult to comprehend. As I climb into a tuk tuk, I glance once more at this building that was host to so much torture. I feel an ocean of gratitude for my life.

Railay

2010-03-15T01:53:00.000-07:00

We journey from Ko Lanta to Railay on a small ferry followed by a long-tailed wooden boat that drops us off a few meters from shore. Railay is a peninsula in Thailand's Krabi province and only accessible by boat. I love it immediately. Dramatic limestone karsts surge from an emerald sea lapping soft, white sand. And there are no cars--none. We arrive at West Railay which is the busier and more expensive beach. Backpacker-oriented Tonsai is our destination. To reach it, you can either pay 80 baht for a boat ride or a fifteen minute scramble over rocks separating the two beaches. We opt for the rock route which is a little cumbersome the first time weighted down by our packs but fine afterwards.

Tonsai has a relaxed rasta-vibe and is full of rock climbers but other colorful characters as well. Dreadlocked guys in fisherman's trousers lounge on the sand, a thai woman sweeps her porch with a wiry broom, and a mother and her son play checkers with bottle caps. Our bungalow, Andaman resort, is located on the "main street" which is nothing more than a dirt path. A single bed with a blue mosquito net canopy sits on a wood slat foor. We have an asian style bathroom off to one side and electricity only during the evening hours. But our lodging is posh compared to some travelers--Eli from Finland is camping and takes his showers at the beach shacks where he buys his breakfast.

Highlights include Tham Phra Nang cave which features tons of carved penises. There are tiny ones and ones as tall as me in a variety of colors and shapes. They are placed there as offerings in hope that the spirit will provide fisherman with a plentiful catch! Another day, I hike to Sa Phra Nang with a German guy named Fabian. Sa Phra Nang is a hidden lagoon accessible by a fairly intimidating hike/climb. One guy we met said he hiked to the same point on three separate trips to Railay but still could not drum up the courage to descend a particularly steep spot. (Should this have deterred me? haha) I felt emboldened by having another person with me and the promise of a gorgeous, secluded spot. The lagoon didn't disappoint--the warm green water is completely surrounded by immense cliffs. I float on my back and look into a blue sky shaped like an eye.

But my favorite experience is the snorkeling trip. With our guide, Lek, we push off from Railay's shore in a long tail boat bound for the island of Poda. This first site turns out to be my favorite due to the sheer proximity to the marine life. I see a black spiky sea urchin whose single orange eye follows my movements. An clown fish floats by except that his white stripes are tinged florescent green. Tubes of soft pink coral sway back and forth and the strange purple mouth of a hard coral opens and closes. I notice a fish covered in the pattern of a giraffe's skin. We swim through caves. I like floating through the darkest part then emerging into the sunlight. After snorkeling we boat to Chicken island, uninhabited except for a single family with a food shack. After the most incredible sunset of my life, I watch as thousands of bats fly overhead. Lek explains they are headed for phi phi island but in his broken english I cannot determine why. We dine on seafood curry, brimming with robust shrimp by the light of four tiki torches. Lek leads us to a spot for a night swim to see the glowing phosphorescence organisms. Peering through a snorkel mask, they look like tiny diamonds swirling around my arms and legs. As our boat heads back to Tonsai, I lay on my back to gaze at constellations positioned differently than I remember them.

Ko Lanta, Thailand

2010-03-11T21:35:00.000-08:00

The final decent into Phuket airport is the best one of my life--forested rock formations ringed by misty blue waters. After an ATM pitstop, we walk past hotel hawkers and taxi touts until we reach the Aerobus. I stare at the Thai script signs inside the bus, seemingly made up of lower case "p" and "q"s. Only after we are halfway through the bus ride do I realize I left my only ATM card in the machine. I am extremely angry at myself for doing something so stupid but all is not lost. I have enough money for my time in Thailand and Laura is willing to lend me cash throughout the rest of Asia if necessary. I cancel my card and order a new one. Now I just have to decide where to have it sent after it arrives at my house. I'm thinking Athens, Greece so I can be sure it has enough time to arrive before I do.

"It has no really taste, eating like pudding" comments Torsten about a dish he orders at the Phuket night market. Christophe and Torsten are two German friends traveling together we meet on the way to our guesthouse. Christope is on a mission to find fisherman's trousers for a price that pleases him and asks every clothing vendor we pass.

The next day we head to Ko Lanta. Ko Lanta is comprised of a series of islands off the Andaman coast in southern Thailand; Ko Lanta Yai is the largest and our destination. The process begins in an eight person van to Phuket's port where we load onto a ferry. On the top deck, pasty boys in board shorts sun themselves, two guys in aviator shades and shaved chests dare each other to swim the rest of the way, and the breasts of an enormous British woman threaten to fall out of her inadequate bikini top. We are close to our first stop now. I see Phi Phi Don island on my left and Phi Phi Le (made famous after The Beach was filmed there) on my right. Minutes later, we exit and are ushered toward a small boat bound for Ko Lanta. I smell a combination of sun, sea, sweat, and cigarettes from my perch atop a mountain of backpacks. I try to avoid getting ashed on by the many smokers but it's sort of inevitable so I focus instead on the breathtaking scenery of rocks and ocean.

We arrive at Ban Saladan port and chose a bungalow located on Klong Nin beach, about three-quarters of the way down Ko Lanta's west coast. The driver hucks our packs on top of a pickup truck and after squeezing eight other travels in the back, he drives us to Ko Lanta Nature Resort. For 300 baht (about $4.60 each) our dwelling is a bamboo a-frame bungalow on stilts. A mosquito net hangs on the wall and the shower spritzes in every direction except directly on my head but who cares we have a hammock on the porch! After unloading our packs, we notice our new German friends are loding two bungalows down from us! We have fun with them, they teach us German phrases, let us ride on their rented mopeds, and tell us that David Hasslehoff is one of the most famous singers in Germany. The beaches are not mindblowing, but still good and the atmosphere is utterly relaxing. The rest of the evening plays out like an idyllic beach movie--drink a mango lassi at the open air bar, swim in the bathtub warm ocean, and watch an orange sun dip into the sea. But then we watch fire dancers and one catches the back of his tank top on fire. "Excuse me, you're on fire" comes a polite voice from the crowd the performer doesn't hear. "Stop, drop, and roll!" I yell. He will be ok.

One day I have an oceanside thai massage from a fortyish woman with drawn-on eyebrows. She is incredibly strong and at one point actually hoists me skyward, her knees pressing into my back. I am amazed at how she performs much of the kneading with her elbows and nimbly moves around my entire body to gain access of each area. And it's under $10.

We attend the Lanta Lanta festival in Old Town, a strange brew of a carnival indeed. One "game of skill" offers stuffed bears, eggs, and cooking oil among it's prizes. The lead in a thai-reggae band is dressed exactly like Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean. A "Miss Lanta" beauty pageant is judged by a muscular trannie in a cobalt blue dress. Skinny thai teenagers perform a dance routine to pop music, my favorite is the lone guy who wears a green t-shirt and shakes his booty with sassiness like I've never seen. Afterwards I congratulate Greenshirt and he dissolves into a fit of giggles! I feast on pad thai, grilled corn, and some kind of gelatinous sweet I can't identify for a few baht. I buy a lightweight robin's egg blue print dress and Christophe finally finds some fisherman's trousers.

I borrow a snorkeling mask from the Germans and discover striped fish, funky coral, and something that looks like a cross between a snake and a newt. We drink rum and coke and play Connect 4. We continually evaluate the quality of our daily mango lassi on a scale of 1 to 10. At night the colorful christmas lights of mellow beach huts twinkle as we contemplate our dinner venue. We hike to the Mai Kaeo caves, described in the pamphlet as "most of the impression in Ko Lanta" As I shimmy through the narrow crevices, passing bats and huge spiders with diamond eyes along the way, I would have to agree. On the way back, we have the opportunity to ride on an elephant but I just can't do it. One elephant already has a hairy guy with a huge tatoo on his left love handle sitting atop its head and looks deeply unhappy.

I like Thailand. The Thai people have been nothing short of kind and accomodating in every way. Although the average annual income is under $5,000 usd, most people appear to be quite content. Families run their businesses, be it serving food, massage, some type of tour, etc. Houses are simple but this climate doesn't demand more than that. I befriend Mi, Wan, and "Rambo" who all speak enough English to carry on a conversation. Mi sums up the Thai lifestyle as "good food here and lack of stress...Americans eat bad food and worry all the time about money." Mi is 37 but could pass for 19. Clearly, there is something special about life on Ko Lanta.

Batu Cave & Monk Friend

2010-03-05T00:30:00.000-08:00

On my last day in Malaysia, I visit the Batu Caves, about a thirty minute bus ride from Kuala Lumpur. This site is one of the most popular Hindu shrines outside of India and features the largest statue of the Hindu God Murugan in the world at 140 feet high. The first thing I see after climbing the nearly 300 steps to the cave's entrance is a gift shop which boasts "Om Nama Shivaya" bumper stickers, cave photo place mats, and a neon-lit photos of the Murugan statue singing a Hindi tune. As I sit on the marble steps of the Hindu temple, I watch monkeys scamper up the stalagmites (or is it stalagtites? I can never remember!) with their babies clinging to their fur. A man in a golden trimmed sarong chants inside the temple while tank-topped tourists cajole the monkeys with food into photo-worthy poses. The air smells of incense and monkey poo. One monkey tries to snatch my bag; another successfully steals Laura's orange drink!

Throughout the cave wood carvings of various Hindu gods loom over us. I notice two monks around my age, taking photos of them. Both wear the characteristic orange robe and one has a pair of knockoff Prada sunglasses perched on his head. I'm curious and want to talk to them but every guidebook I've ever read claims monks are not allowed to communicate with women according to their vinaya (code of conduct). But then, the one with the sunglasses walks up and introduces himself! I can't tell if his fellow monk is shy, unable to speak English, or both. We exchange pleasantries and I don't know what else to say so I say something cheesy like "enjoy your visit" and figure that is that.

But about half an hour later, while Laura and I are eating at an Indian restaurant at the base of the caves, the two monks stroll through the door. "Come join us!" I say and they do. Over the next hour Panna (pronounced "Panya") tells me interacting with women is fine; it is being alone with a woman in a secluded place that violates his oath as a monk. Panna has been a monk for the past 15 years since age 13! Monks do not have to assume this post forever but Pannna views it as a long term commitment. He is currently pursuing his masters in Buddhism here in Kuala Lumpur but hails from outside of Kandy, Sri Lanka. He studies Vipassana Buddhism which I am particularly interested in and I am delighted when he suggests exchanging email addresses so we can discuss the it further. On the bus ride back to KL, we talk about everything from the bogus monks posing in Chinatown to the precepts of Buddhism as applied to the monk verses the layperson. Before we part ways, Panna expresses his gratitude for our company. "No one has been friendly and willing to talk to us" he says "I am so happy to have met you and you are always welcome in Sri Lanka!" By the time I made it back to the hostel I already had a message from him: "Very nice to meet you and you friend. You are so friendly. I like you people. And have a nice journey to Thailand." --Panna

Cameron Highlands

2010-03-01T02:04:00.000-08:00

It looks like it could be out of an episode of "Pimp my Bus"--red plush seats, televisions on the back of every seat, air conditioning, and complimentary bottled water are just a few of the comforts on our overnight bus from Singapore to Malaysia's Cameron Highlands. In between bouts of sleep, I pass the 8 hour journey listening to music, watching movies, and journaling. During our main pit stop the bus drivers smoke around a metallic fish fountain. Signs advertise lucky porridge and bee venom therapy outside the small grocery store. The next time I wake up the moon is a luminous pearl against an ink sky. It is 5:30am and the air is noticeably cooler as we wind around narrow roads surrounded by stars and silhoutte mountains.

We arrive in Tanah Rata and choose Daniel's Lodge for it's laid back atmosphere and $4 pricetag. And our room sets a new record for small--It's literally 2 twin beds separated by a few inches. The bright blue door barely clears the edge of the bed. I like our view of a tree stump table and mini-buddhist temple with rusty bikes leaning against it. In this ramshackle small town, our days fall into a pleasant routine. I usually eat a mango from my favorite fruit stand guy at the end of our street before heading to Restoran Kumar with it's menu pasted inside a scruffy photo album. After breakfast, Laura and I hike one of the many jungle treks surrounding the area. Then we sit down for a banana leaf meal where they give you several piles of veggies, rice, and curries to mix together. Evenings are spent reading, drinking Anchor beer with other travelers around the fire pit, or playing with the 3 resident puppies. The puppies were found by a traveler in the jungle and now belong to a girl working at the hostel.

Hiking in the Malaysian jungle has presented some challenges. Each trek is designated only by a number and none are well marked. Only rudimentary maps are available so even finding them is an adventure. Trek #2 meanders through narrow, steep terrain to the next town over called Brinchang. Much of the hike was more of a climb as I grabbed thick roots to hoist myself up to the next portion of an overgrown path! Trek #10 took us to the top of Jasvar mountain, overlooking all of Tanah Rata. My favorite was Trek #7 which ended up at Robinson Falls. We were never able to quite locate #13, ending up instead in someone's backyard with chickens squawking all over the place!

But it's not all paradise. Some parts of town have an overwelming sewer smell that makes me gag. There are discarded water bottled floating at the bottom of the beautiful waterfalls. Tanah Rata is known for it's strawberry farms and expresses this pride with several tacky tourist shops selling everything from strawberry keychains to huge strawberry pillows. Still, I can live days filled with amazing hikes, great food, and comfortable surroundings for about $15 here so it is hard to complain!

We head back to Kuala Lumpur this afternoon and fly to Phuket, Thailand on Saturday!

Sizzling Singapore

2010-02-27T20:39:00.000-08:00

The border crossing from Malaysia to Singapore is unique because it's actually a 1,056 meter causeway connecting southern Malaysia with the island of Singapore. The official marks my passport with a hexagonal stamp and I have officially entered my seventeenth country.

Singapore is often described as a good country to enter for first-time visitors to Asia. The streets are clean and well-marked. At markets such as Lau Pa Sat, you can be daring and eat fish heads or play it safe with simple rice and veggies. Our days were spent moving between various sections of the city and air-conditioned breaks inside Singapore's modern malls (the directories have interactive touch screens!) to escape the sizzling midday heat. Transport is made easy with the Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) train system. Most journeys around the city center cost around the equivalent of $1 usd. Our hostel is located just steps from the Aljunied stop. It's so close in fact that I can watch the train whoosh by when I am in the kitchen and hear the automated female voice say "Next stop, Aljunied." Sky Orchid hostel is the tiniest hostel I have ever stayed in with the kitchen, common, and computer areas all in one big room; the seven dorms surrounding it. The four bathroom stalls are down a narrow hallway where a sign reads "After using the toliet, please flush probably. Thank you for your Civic Mindedness." Ah, a bad English translation never fails to amuse me.

Singapore has several ethnic enclaves, including an Arab Quarter, Little India, and Chinatown. The Arab quarter is brimming with textile shops, men smoking flavored tobacco out of hookahs, and food stalls sizzling with fried rice and satay. We sit down to eat in the shadow of the gigantic golden Sultan Mosque at Hju Esah. I eat pineapple and seafood rice, while Laura orders a cabbage, egg, peanut sauce concoction called gado gado. I pluck a chip off the top and discover it is dried fish! I browse the little shops and find a striped cloth bag I love. In Little India, I marvel at the lively Sri Veeramakaliam Temple where an evening pooja is taking place. A pooja is a Hindu worship ceremony where attendants believe access with a god or goddess is possible. I watch as women in bright saris pour milk into a silver bucket, a man with white face paint stirs a pot over a heart-shaped fire pit, and another clangs one of the many bells hanging on a wooden door as incense permeates the air. Another enjoyable activity was hearing a Chinese percussion band outside the Esplanade Theater. The entire troupe performed pieces titled "Tiger stalking it's prey" and "Ducks squabbling" with symbols, large taut drums, and woodblocks.

Normally Laura and I shy away from many traditional tourist activities, because often they are cheesy, not to mention too expensive for our backpacker budget. We made an exception for the Singapore Flyer and it was well worth it. The Singapore Flyer is currently the largest ferris wheel in the world. Listening to the electronic audio tour, I learned how much of the wheel and Sinagpore itself was designed to align with the principles of Feng Shui. For example, the wheel used to rotate counterclockwise but was reversed because clockwise is considered better energy. Other decisions are based on lucky numbers including a building with the windows forming the number 13 and the fact that the ferris wheel has 28 capsules that each accomodate 28 people. When you reach the summit of the Singapore Flyer, you are closest to heaven and this is the best time to make a wish! The ride offered amazing panoramic views of the city and surrounding ocean. I am so glad we did it!

Back at the hostel, I suddenly work at 3:37am to the sound of teeth gnashing. Ugh. Some kind of animal must be in the room. I try to ignore it but I can't help myself; I click on the light and crouch down to investigate. I hear it once more and discover it's not an animal but our roommate, Don, grinding his teeth! I can't believe how loud the noise is! Don is Filipino and cracks us up with his questions about American culture such as "Is Michael Jackson really dead? People in the Philippines are not sure what to believe." Along with our other roommate, Luke, ridiculous conversation continued and the four of us giggled like sixth graders at a sleepover.

PS: Laura and I seem to be having a contest as to who can lose/break the most sunglasses. So far Laura's burned through 4 but I trail closely behind at 3. Luckily they have all been under $10. Or maybe that is why they are breaking. It's a chicken-egg question.

I say Melaka, you say Malacca

2010-02-22T05:09:00.000-08:00

The first adventure of the day is trying to find the bus station again. Every local we ask gives different directions (perhaps they want to try to help rather than say nothing at all?) At one point we realize we are on the correct street but at the complete opposite end. Our bus leaves at 11am and it is 10:50! We dash across chaotic streets, dodging motorcycles along the way and sprint down platform 8. "Going to Melaka?" we ask 3 drivers who all reply "No." It must have already left! Then at 10:59, the Melaka bus pulls up and everyone piles in rapidly. Within minutes we begin our 2 hour blissfully air conditioned journey south to Melaka.

From the Melaka bus station, we take another bus Red Dutch Square and locate The River View guesthouse on Jalan Pantai. Mani, the owner, gives us Li Chi juice and a map detailing nearby areas of interest. Our guesthouse boasts a cozy lounge festooned with plants overlooking the river, watercolor paintings, and a serene minimalist decor. Luxury possible for $6, I love it. Walking about town I watch trishaws wrapped in colorful fake flowers ride down the street. Everywhere, red paper lanterns hang above me.

On Jonker Street, I find the Wah Aik Shoemaker which specializes in shoes for women with bound feet! The owner, Raymond Yeo, explains how his father began marketing the shoes to tourists as souviners after his last bound feet customers passed away in the nineties. Women of high social ranking would bind their feet to snare a wealthy husband. The process began as early as 2 years of age when all but the big toe would be wrapped with cloth and the arch crushed with a stone! Feet needed to be bound their entire life or the feet would begin growing again. The ideal size fit in a 3 inche shoe--known as "san zun jin lian" or the "golden lotus."

One day I explore Harmony Street--named as such because of the 3 places of worship on it. Malaysia is a predominately Muslim country but it's citizens are allowed to practice other religions freely. I enter the Chen Hoon Teng Chinese Buddhist temple and listen to 5 monks in saffron robes chant while several people listen on bended knees behind them. The monk in the middle gentlely taps on a wood carving as they chant. A man walks around handing out oranges and a woman with several sticks of incense in hand bows several times in the direction of the buddha statue. Suddenly, the monks begin to walk around the temple and everyone follows them single file. I join the end of the line and together we snake around the temple in a long line, bowing at the buddha statue when we pass.

In the Hindu temple, Sri Poyyatha Viyanga Moorthy, I am offered sweet rice and chickpeas from a rotund Indian man wearing a white sarong with blue trim. We engage in a brief conversation but in his broken English all I can decipher is that some important man is visiting the temple in a few days and will I still be around? Then he removes the lid from a silver platter and places some sticky rice and chickpeas on the tips of my fingers. "It's sweet, yes?" he asks. "It is delicious" I reply, "What kind of rice is this?" "Yes!" he answers with a smile and I laugh.

Other curious characters include Abraham who introduces himself as "a nomad from Kashmir" intent on enticing me with beautiful goat-skin bags in his shop and Gabrielle the quirky Swiss woman who owns the second-hand bookstore and a 17 year old blind cat she claims is "the most photographed cat in all of Melaka." (Are many cats vying for this title?) Abdul insists he used to play golf with Obama and that smoking is the inspiration of life while his friend is equally adament that there are actually 52 states in America. Both wish Britney Spears would send them some of her money. One thing is for sure, all the Malaysian people I have encountered are friendly!

The Museum Rakyat (The People Museum) is a mixed bag of bad English translations and historical events described as accurately as having occured in "yester year." One entire hallway is dedicated to the spinning top (also known as a gasing) and another to kites. I learn how one should never stand on a doorstep during a gasing tournament because a satantic knot may be placed there by insincere people. In the 3D gallery downstairs a large diorama with a television inside features a low-budget movie of Melaka's invasion by the Portuguese. Nearby, scenes from Melaka's takeover by the Dutch are depicted in trippy hologram form.

One evening I walk Melaka river at dusk as silent lightening flashes in the sky. I watch red river boats float through the water and the passengers take a picture of me while I take a picture of them. I startle when I hear something rustling to my right and watch some type of huge, long lizard scurry across the path in front of me and plunge into the river! Another night Laura and I boat down the river. I make small talk with the Omani family sitting across from us as we float past peeling Dutch style buildings and a Mariah Carey song wails from the radio.

The food is delicious and diverse, a reflection of the many cultures residing in Melaka. My favorite the roti pisang at Selvam--banana chunks in warm thin bread accompanied by 3 types of sauce. I wash it down with mango lassi, an icy yogurt fruit drink. All for 5 ringgets (less than $2)

Despite receiving UNESCO World Heritage status in 2008, Melaka's tourist population remains relatively small. Most conversations begin with "Hello, how are you? Where are you from?" and then "Ohhhh the USA!"accompanied by a somewhat incredulous look. Perhaps Americans routinely pass up Malaysia in pursuit of more popular southeast Asia destinations. As for me, I am fully enjoying the many pleasures Malaysia has to offer!

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

2010-02-21T04:43:00.000-08:00

With all the free movies available on Malaysia Airlines, the 8 hour flight from Melbourne to Kuala Lumur passes quickly. Fireworks explode over the city lights as we land, most likely a part of the ongoing Chinese New Year celebration. It's almost 9pm and a balmy 84 degrees when I step off the plane. As I fill out my immigration card, I notice the following message emblazoned on the bottom "Be forewarned, death for drug traffickers under Malaysian Law" Well, that certainly is getting to the point isn't it?

After collecting our bags, we buy tickets for the KLIA Ekspres train to the city center. Then we locate the KL monorail and head toward Imbi, where our hostel is located. After getting turned around a few times we finally locate Hostel Equator and are shown to our room. For the equivalent of $10 each, Laura and I get a small room with orange walls, 2 twin beds, a locker, bedside tabe, and a whirring fan. I stay up awhile and play guitar with some Canadian guys before finally falling asleep.

The next day we explore the Central Market first, fingering batik garmets and admiring buddha wood carvings. I eat stingray for lunch and it's delicious. We wander through Chinatown which is chock full of predictable items like desginer bag knock-offs but also more interesting fare such as a row of entire cooked pigs with flowers planted atop their heads. I use a squat style "tanda" (toliet) for the fist time and instead of toliet paper, there is a sprayer you use to clean yourself.

Finding our way around is a bit challenging. Thankfully, everyone I encounter is willing to help. Hadi, the owner of Hostel Equator, gave us a map marked with attractions but KL is far from grid-like. Every "Jalan" (street) seems to tangle into another and it's easy to get confused. Luckily, the monorail provides a landmark we can head toward when lost. We stumble upon the Islamic Arts Museum and I take in the sights--everything from prayer mats to mosque models; intricate marriage certificates to Qur'an texts filled with beautiful calligraphic script.

Kuala Lumpur is an interesting city of contrasts. The glittering Petronas twin towers rise above decaying buildings. Lavish shopping complexes reside near elegant mosques. Tourists in short-shorts stand next to woman draped in burqas. Loud, dirty, crowded streets suddenly give way to quiet, picturesque garden areas. I bought a piece of gourmet cake from an immaculate glass display case the same day I watched a man slit a live chicken's throat with a serrated knife at an open air market. It's a dizzying experience, but one thing is fore sure--I truly feel I am traveling in a far away place.

Walk until your day becomes interesting

2010-02-17T00:35:00.001-08:00

In one of my favorite books, Vagabonding, Rolf Potts suggests travelers walk until their day becomes interesting. More than any guidebook list of a city's "must see" attractions, this is the piece of travel advice I follow consistently. And today that meant I ended up crashing an open-air djemebe drum class, showing off my Matrix moves, and stumbilng upon my favorite street performence so far.

Walking along Flinders Avenue, I see rows and rows of djembe (pronounced "Jim-bay") drums lined up along the steps next to the Moving Image museum. Two guys dressed in colorful patterned clothes look like they were getting ready to teach a class. Intrigued, I sit down. Moments later the steps flood with college students. Apparently I slipped into their djembe class but the instructor is ready to begin so I figure I might as well stay at this point!

He teaches us the three basic djembe striking techniques--bass, tone, and slap. Bass occurs when you strike the middle of the drum with your palm and tone when you hit the rim. Slap is a trickier movement, requiring more relaxed fingers and specific placement of the arm. The charismatic instructor strung four drum patterns together and pretty soon most of us were, more or less, following along! I had never played music in such a large group setting and it felt powerful!

Afterwards I wander into the Australian Center of the Moving Image--a fantastic ode to the history of film, television, and digital culture. In the "Games Lab" section, I indulge in nostalgia playing favorites such as Sega's Sonic the Hedgehog and Nintendo's Super Mario Brothers. Another fun exhibit is "Voices" where a series of televisions display the variations of the Australian accent. Paul Hogan's (of Crocdile Dundee fame) "Come and Say G'Day" Australian Tourism campaign from the 80s is hilarious. But the best exhibit is within the "Sensation" section called Timeslice. You walk into a small round room decorated with the classic Matrix green code. Once you've pressed the white button you wait 3 seconds then perform your "move" at which point 36 cameras will capture you from all angles. Exiting the room, you can watch your timeslice movie on a touch-screen on the other side. It is challenging to get a cool-looking move exactly on cue but super fun trying to!

My last stop is Swanston Street where I listen to a doe-eyed french guy play acoustic guitar so gorgeously I was on the brink of tears. He plays a steel string guitar but with a classical technique, picking a complex melody with his long fingernails. Next door and up a long staircase, I dine at Gopal's vegetarian restaurant. As I enjoy my coconut marinated tempeh and mixed green salad I can still hear his music from below wafting through an open window.

TWO days to go until Asia--woot woot!

Melbourne...it's growing on me

2010-02-14T16:29:00.000-08:00

When I first arrived in Melbourne, I was less than enthused. I just spent several glorious days exploring the picturesque Great Ocean Road and now found myself in a sprawling city of almost 4 million people. Annoyances include the infamous "hook turn" where you can only make a right from the furthest left lane, trams crowded with chatterbox teenage hipsters , and our first hostel which looked suspiciouly like it might have been a Chucky Cheese in a former life. And the girls here are so fashionable, they look like they stepped out of Bazaar magazine, making me feel like my tank top/skirt/flip flop combo isn't quite cutting it. However, these are typical attributes of city life and after a few days, I have some highlights to report--

Child street performers: In the last 72 hours, I have seen two sisters under 12 that play better acoustic guitar than I can (well, maybe that's not saying much!), a 7 year old that has got Michael Jackson's dance moves down pat, and an 8 year old playing Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" on piano.

Queen Victoria Market: Great prices on every kind of produce, fish, bread, dessert you could imagine. A smorgasboard of other items including live ducks, funky clothing, and electronics. I have gotten in the pleasant habit of swinging by there in the mornings for a fresh fruit and yogurt. Yum.

New Pakistani Friends at Hostel: I met Sunny and Shayane on the rooftop of the Metro hostel. They were kind enough to share their beer and expertise in astrology as it applies to women and taught me some words in Pashtoon (sp?) as well. Therefore, I will forgive them for loving the Backstreet Boys.

St. Kilda Beach Arts Festival: I attended a free hip hop dance workshop. Don't laugh. Ok, do because it was hilarious, especially since I was told to dance on stage and a random old guy was videotaping it.

Central Library: Free art exhibition on Melbourne's history of shopping complete with subversive texts on shoplifting techniques through the ages.

Brunswick Street: Excellent Indian food and a guitar store where I tried out a flying v shaped ukulele! You can also borrow free bikes from a brewery nearby called Little Creatures.

Comics Lounge: Among the garish animal print couches and predictable sex jokes--there were 3 standout performers: Nick Cody, the Nelson Twins, and David Quirk. Check them out.

So, the happy ending to this story is that I am reminded both city and country have their respective delights. And for my remaining days in Melbourne I am going to enjoy them to the fullest!

Port Fairy Chillaxin' & Griffiths Island

2010-02-10T23:13:00.000-08:00

Port Fairy is so pleasant, we decide to stay another night here. It has rained all day but I don't mind. A rainy day is an excellent reason to be lazy after moving from place to place. Given a snowy day, I might feel trapped and annoyed. But a summer rain is welcome. I can keep my window open and listen to its soft rhythm. I can pull on my rainjacket, walk three minutes to the bookshop, and be ensconced in a duvet moments later reading a new story while eating Tim Tams. (Tim Tams, by the way, are chocolate covered biscuit cookies--my favortite Australian treat!) Laura and I often comment how we fall asleep as soon as our head hits the pillow. Why are we so tired? We aren't running marathons here. However, we are walking alot most days and I think I continually underestimate how that combined with the stimulation of new places all the time can be exhausting--not that I'm complaining--it's a "good" tired!

In the evening, the rain subsides and I emerge to explore nearby Griffiths island. "A yankee are ya?" a local fisherman named Trevor replies when I introduce myself. Apparently my American accent is as amusing to the locals as their Australian English is to me! Trevor explains that the many burrows surrounding us are inhabited by shearwaters, also known as mutton birds. I see no live birds but several, headless dead ones--victims of the islands fox population. I meander to past rocks that look like large pieces of coal and rubbery strips of seaweed toward the blinking lighthouse. I hear a steady hum of chirping that seems to be emanating from under the ground. Alison, the hostel manager, later informs me these are baby mutton birds awaiting their parents return with dinner for them. Standing at the base of the lighthouse, I watch the sunset. The cloudy sky is pewter streaked with marigold. Rounding the opposite side of the island, I see swamp wallabies! A wallaby is a smaller, darker version of a kangaroo. I tiptoe near one; close enough to observe the rust red flecks of hair on it's belly. There are ten adult wallabies in all and a baby no bigger than a chihauhau. I feel so lucky to have seen so much wildlife in the past 72 hours! By the time I circumnavigate Griffiths Island, dusk has progressed to darkness. I follow the orange glow of streetlamps back to the hostel, giddy from a satisfying day.

Great Ocean Road

2010-02-10T00:59:00.000-08:00

Our tour of the Great Ocean Road through Australia's Victoria region begins with a stop in the town of Anglesea. The helpful ladies at the visitor center told us the local golf course is known for it's kangaroos that roam the course! We were skeptical but decide to check it out. Ambling along the walkway next to the green we suddenly see two of them relaxing in the shade. Fifty meters ahead there are a dozen more--young, adult, and some are tagged. A few are sitting on their haunches, others are sprawled on the ground, and some are using their small paws to scratch themselves. I stare at them and and they stare back at me. Then a large lawnmower roars nearby and several kangaroos hop across the green to another cluster of trees. Two golfers walk by unfazed. Laura and I laugh--we definitely never expected to see wildlife on a golf course!

We drive further until we reach the Grey River Road near Kennet River. We were told the eucalyptus trees here contained koala bears. I thought it would be relatively easy to spot them, but someone else has to help me locate him. Suddenly, I see him! I watch in awe at this koala perched in the crook of two branches proceeds to urinate, soaking the tree trunk below him. The second koala sits in the lowest tree branch, just above my head. I marvel at his brown-gray body, beige colored chest, and fuzzy ears. He sits motionless for a several minutes then begins to grasp eucalyptus leaves with his black leathery palms and push them into his mouth! I see a few others along this route, but the proximity to the second one was the most special! We head to Apollo Bay and settle on a caravan park near the river to camp.

The next morning wake up early (partly out of excitement for what experiences the day might bring but mostly because it's cold and difficult to sleep on the ground). We stop for a hike at Maits Rest. This ancient rainforest is full of Myrtle Beech trees covered with lime-green moss and anchored by elaborate, twisted root systems. The whole walk has the aura of a fairytale land. On our way to the next site we see an echidna by the side of the road. This animal is also known as aspiny anteater and looks like it with its coarse hair and long snout.

Most of the afternoon is spent gawking at the "Twelve Apostales" in Port Campell National Park. These freestanding limestone towers formed due to erosion and stand as a dramatic contrast to the ocean and steep cliffs. This entire area has been host to enough shipwrecks during the nineteenth century to earn it the moniker of "Shipwreck Coast"

We decide to stay in Port Fairy just beyond the end of the Great Ocean Road. The hostel here is an adorable Victorian cottage-- from its decorative cast iron door to the shabby-chic lounge area and fireplace. My bed is the top bunk atop a wooden ladder that makes me feel as if I am in a treehouse. Walking around town, I admire the earth-toned building with their faded signs and roam the rows of the Ironbird Bookshop. I indulge in a kiwi fruit tart at Remella's cafe before heading back to relax after a busy day.

SIGN OF THE DAY: Seen outside a fish and chips shop in Port Campbell

"Could you please not feed the seagulls as they s*** everywhere and sometimes it lands in your food. Thank you."

PS: Although my camera is broken, we are taking pictures with Laura's camera until I get a new one. Eventually the post-Sydney ones will make it on the blog

Roadtrip! Sydney to Melbourne

2010-02-07T23:53:00.000-08:00

The original plan was to drive from Sydney to Melbourne over the course of 3-4 days, camping along the way with the tent Nathan and Courtney bequeathed to us. But as we made our way south it started raining HARD. The radio describes the conditions as "monsoon-like" and even the Sydney airport has closed on account of the weather! By the time we arrive in tiny Jervis Bay it is dark and still raining cats and dogs. Nothing is open and there are no accomodations so we opt to sleep in our compact car. I pull on my rain jacket and climb out of the car to pee once more before bed when out of the corner of my eye I see it. My first though is "deer" but of course it's not a deer but a kangaroo munching on grass. I move slightly closer and realize there are three of them! I gesture vigorously to Laura to come out and look. We stand in the pouring rain and gaze at these amazing creatures just standing on someone's lawn. My first kangaroo sighting makes up for having to sleep in a compact car!

The next morning we wake up with sore backs but ready to enjoy some hiking in nearby Booderee National Park. Walking along the beach yields all sorts of interesting sea debris. My favorite is a bluish claw with white square teeth inside the pincher part--weird! Interesting stops include a vegetarian cafe in Milton and a cheese factory in Bega before arriving in Merimbula for the night. After sleeping in the car a hostel feels so good!

The next day the weather improves and we find Ninety Mile Beach. We follow a dirt path shaded by a canopy of trees so thick only glimpses of sunlight peek through until we reach it. Wow. I gaze upon a beach that stretches into oblivion on either side of me, nothing else. And besides a smattering of people, the brown sugar sand is empty. The water is cold and rough with waves constantly cresting over the ones in front of them. A man jogs by with a surfboard tucked under his arm and a white terrier sprinting after him. The sapphire sky directly above pales into a baby blue hue, then a band of violet low lying clouds that rest upon a shimmering aqua ocean. Needless to say, we spend several hours here and end up camping at campsite in the nearby town of Lake Entrance (unfortunately no camping allowed on the beach itself!)

The third day we complete the stretch between Lake Entrance and Melbourne. While we have seen some amazing sights, both Laura and I are getting tired of being in the car. Downtown Melbourne turns out to be snarled with traffic and boiling hot. People, cars, construction, and "no right hand turn" signs are everywhere. It takes us over an hour to navigate our way out of the tangle. Perhaps living in Wyoming for the past couple of years has reduced my ability to deal with the hustle and bustle of driving in cities because I am STRESSED. Sydney is an even larger city but we didn't have to drive there and our friends helped us ger around on the public transport. I don't even want to stay in the city it feels so insane so we decide to drive a little further and stay in the seaside town of Torquay for the night. It's a surf-shacky kind of town and I feel revived by the open space and breezy weather. Tomorrow, we embark on the Great Ocean Road!!!

Nikon--I want a divorce

2010-02-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

Grrrr! My Nikon camera tells me it has a "lens error" and now it won't work. This has happened with previous Nikons and I am so frustrated that I'm saying here and now I will never buy another Nikon camera again. That's it! We are through Nikon. How could you do this to me during my all-important around the world trip?? And this time there are no Best Buy's to take you to and get fixed under the warranty plan. Man, I am so annoyed it broke. Unfortunately there will not be any pictures posted for awhile until I purchase a few one. Luckily, Laura's camera is still up and running so the experiences won't go completely undocumented! Any recommendations on what my next camera should be are appreciated. Keep in mind, it needs to be a pocket, budget version!

The Rest of Sydney--Mountains, Music, and Food

2010-02-04T12:18:00.001-08:00

The five of us (Dave had to work) take a two-hour train ride to Katoomba--the nearest town to Blue Mountains National Park. We fuel up for our hike with lunch at Gardner's Inn then walk through Katoomba toward the trailhead. Given that I live near gorgeous mountains in Jackson Hole, I didn't expect to be blown away by this area. Then we approach the lookout at the trailhead and I see sandstone cliffs surrounding the longest and widest green-treed gorge I have ever seen. The wind blows the waterfall to my right into a mist so fine it looks like smoke drifting past the rock face. We laugh because it takes us awhile to even begin the hike we are so wrapped up in the initial view.

We decide to hike to Pulpit Rock, an approximately 3 hour roundtrip day hike. The hike itself is easy and enjoyable with little change in elevation. At one point, we hop on rocks to cross a river and I am glad I wore my hiking sandals instead of running shoes that would be sopping by now. Halfway through, I see a thin, jagged piece of rock protruding from the side of the mountain. I am both afraid and thrilled by heights and I have to have a closer look. I gingerly climb out on it, look down into the depths below, and feel a sense of vertigo. When we reach Pulpit Rock, I am again tempted by the lure of heights. I climb on the metal railing and manage to completely stand up and survey the vastness below. As I have thought of several times during the trip, pictures can't capture this. The experience of having all your senses engaged at once because you are actually in this wild place. I see the sun-exposed and shadowed cliffs, feel and taste air on the brink of rain, and listen to the silence. The Blue Mountains were my favorite part of our time in Sydney.

A few days later, Isaac, Laura, and I play music at the Excelsior Hotel in the Surry Hills neighborhood. Isaac plays under the same SheBlondeSwede and is there promoting his EP called The Shopping Cart. Laura has been performing within the San Diego music scene for years and made a cd title Along for the Ride. Both are very talented musicians. I don't have a cd nor have I played to an audience in ages. But I have said for awhile now that I would like to get back into performing like I did when I was living in San Diego so here's an opportunity. I stay home to practice for a few hours while they roam the city.

We arrive at a small bar furnished with wooden tables and leather couches. Very chill. Isaac plays the majority of the time and Laura and I each play a small set of covers and originals. I am especially moved by Isaac's song "Lovin You" and his cover of "Romeo & Juliet" by the Dire Straights. Laura wrote a new song titled "Ohio" that tugs at my heart too. After my performance, I am told my voice sounded great but my stage presence was a bit subdued---I needed to let go more. As you know, I am not shy but I do actually get nervous performing when I both sing and play guitar! Only plenty of practice and experience can tame those butterflies! We enjoy the rest of the evening over a jug of Fat Yak and listening to the final band of the evening, The Sign. It's members, Jo and Paul are from Tasmania and Jo's voice is an even growlier Janis Joplin! Heading home, we get caught in a rainstorm and laugh at how soaked we are by the time we reach the train.

The next day ends up being all about delicious food. For "brekkie" as Australians say it, I enter Savta where the man recommends the Israeli omlette. I'm starving and spring for it. I find a table outside and pour myself a glass of water from a chilled glass bottle while I wait. My meal arrives and I tuck into it. Chopped cucumbers and tomatoes are nestled against a cheese and herb infused omlette. My favorite part is a dollop of thick lemon-tinged yogurt called "labne" atop an olive oil and thyme mixture named "zatar" which I spread on my turkish toast. Yum!

I buy a Daytripper pass for today's transportation. For $18, you get access on most of the trains, buses, and ferries throughout Sydney for 24 hours. We bus to Watson's Bay to walk along the coast and meet Isaac's friend, Lauren. Lauren works at Funky Pies, a vegan pie joint, so we decide to try it. I order a spinach and onion pie and the flaky crust is excellent. After our late lunch, we wanted to take a ferry from Watson's Bay but realize we missed the last one. Instead, we bus to Circular Quay (a downtown transportation hub) and hop on a yellow ferry bound for North Sydney. I relax and watch the Sydney skyline float by. We pass the Harbor Bridge and see a group of people ascending it. This activity is popular with tourists but costs several hundred dollars. If it included a bungy jump I might be interested but I didn't want to pay that just for the climb itself. We pass the Prime Minister's house with its regal columns and pristine gardens. The last stop before we turn around is Mosman Ave. This area is tranquil with boasts bobbing in the water and opulent old houses surrounding the harbor. Several have balconies that wrap around the entire length of the second story. I love balconies. :)

The highlight of the day is our dinner at Italian restaurant Fratelli Fresh. Up to this point, I have not really indulged in a high end dining experience in Australia. Being a budget traveler, food is an easy cost to cut if you live on grocery store runs and sandwiches. But this is our last night in Sydney so Isaac, Dave, Laura, and I are going to splurge! We walk past the sex shops, tattoo parlors, and the colorful characters of King's Cross until it gives way to the more urbane district of Potts Point. Fratelli Fresh displays their menu on a large blackboard each based on the ingredients they have on hand that day. Our appetizers are mozzarella topped tomato slices brocollini, and crispy polenta with oyster mushrooms and gorgonzola sauce. Oh my god. The combination is goose-bump inducing and we make quick work of it. My main dish is farfalle pasta with asparagus, spinach, and percorino. Laura orders a risotto, Dave a slightly spicy penne, and Isaac a really spicy gnocchi. After savoring our own dishes we decide to rotate to the right several times to experience everyone else's. It's agreed that all the dishes are delicious, but Laura's risotto with it's delicate vegetables and shredded gorgonzola cheese takes first prize. We bask in the luxury of it all, sipping Sangiovese and talking about topics as intelligent as our favorite N.P.R. program to as cheesy as how much we truly love the band Hall & Oates. We toast each other and a wonderful time in Sydney!

City & Solitude

2010-02-01T05:23:00.000-08:00

On our second day in Sydney, Isaac and Dave take us to Bondi Beach. In less than 10 minutes on a bus, we arrive at Bondi's shores. Normally, city beaches disappoint me. But while Bondi is certainly busy, it's wide white swath of beach is quite clean and lovely. Walking around, I am amazed at how utterly tan everyone is. The sun in Australia is intense and the country has one of the highest skin cancer rates in the world. I am not one who tans well, therefore, I lather up with spf 50 all over my body and plonk a wide brimmed hat on my head. We take turns--a few people swim amongst the crashing waves, while others stay and watch everyone's stuff. Bondi is an interesting people watching spot--sunbathers strut in various states of undress, a man sells books for $1 from red shelves, and people of various abilities try out the surf. After swimming and sunning (well, not so much sunning for me!) we walk part of the coastal route from Bondi to Coogee and admire the scene from clifftops above.

Later, we quench our thirst with drinks on the rooftop of the Glenmore hotel in The Rocks district. Dave tells us that many historic hotels have been converted into pubs but this particular one still houses travelers as well. The view of the opera house from here is fantastic! We move on to dinner at the Australian Hotel. I order basil and onion pizza topped with emu! It tastes like high quality steak and is delicious! I try some of Dave's kangaroo and that is yummy too. Who knew?

After 2 days of city exploration, we decide to train to the Blue Mountains west of Sydney. The train ride to the town at the base of the park, Katoomba, is two hours. I look out the window for awhile then read some of the Pattie Boyd book I bought at the beach yesterday. Before I know it, we are there. Given that I live near some of the most iconic mountains in the world, the Grand Tetons, I wasn't sure how impressive this site would be. But as soon as we arrive at the first lookout, I am floored. The wind blows a waterfall into a mist so fine it looks like smoke drifting past the rock face. The mountains are not incredibly high but what is striking is the length and depth of the immense gorge below, thick with trees. Halfway through the hike to Pulpit Rock, I see a thin, jagged rock protruding from the side of the mountain. I gingerly climb out on it, look down and feel vertigo. There is so much to look at, it is frustrating because I can't take it all in at once. Soon, we arrive at Pulpit Rock and marvel at the sandstone rocks rising from a thicket of green while sharing chocolate with hazelnuts. I love a bustling, artsy city with superb architecture as much as the next person, but also appreciating the majesty of nature in quiet solitude.

Sydney: Day 1

2010-01-30T13:23:00.000-08:00

Scenes around the Sydney airport--Dozens of Asian men snap photos and smoke cigarettes while leaning against Vodaphone-emblazoned luggage carts. A woman with a cheetah print head covering talks with a tall, slender man in a white tunic that almost reaches his sandals. A takeaway cafe called "Go!" displays pumpkin-spinach pizza, various meat pies, and chocolate rope bread. A camera crew interviews a woman about security measures at the airport. Outside, people wrangle their bags toward the long line at the taxi stand. I watch as one taxi after another fills with people just a few seconds apart. I am definitely in a country bigger and busier than New Zealand! Laura and I are on different flights this time--she wont' arrive until later in the evening--and her friend Isaac has kindly agreed to meet me at the airport. I locate Isaac near the taxi stand and we head downstairs to buy train tickets. Laura befriended Isaac in San Diego and he moved to Sydney 2 years ago. He is relaxed and personable and we chat easily on our way to his place in Bondi Junction.

At his apartment, he introduces me to his roommate, Dave, as well as other friends visiting from the U.S., Nathan and his wife Courtney. It will be several hours until Laura's flight arrives so we decide to explore. We are all starving and Isaac leads us to East Ocean restaurant in Chinatown, which specializes in dim sum food. Dim sum means "little presents" and Isaac orders heaps of all kinds of these little dishes. Spinach balls, sticky rise encased in some type of large green leaf, egg tarts, duck with plum sauce, spicy sweet green beans, and jasmine tea. All five of us are feasting and passing the delicious, steaming dishes around the table. After we finish, we wander outside and hear the sounds of drumming. We move closer and see men dancing inside elaborate tiger costumes. Isaac explains that this is part of the Chinese New Year celebration. The costumes are amazing--the eyes, mouth, and ears move, making them incredibly animated and exciting to watch. The lions dance around doorways and scare the bad spirits from the shops in Chinatown. I see a man lowering a red envelope tied to a piece of lettuce from a second story window. The lions "eat" it and the money inside the envelope pays the dancers and drummers for their show. Isaac offers me an emperor puff --custard-filled dough balls--and we watch until the lions, the drummers, and the trail of people following them disappear around the corner.

We walk to Darling Harbor past rushing fountains, strolling people, and several ibis birds. Lounging on the wooden steps near the shore, we listen to a guy in white face and body paint play a digeridoo. Farther down, we notice an incredibly lifelike T-rex dinosaur with it's "trainer" playfully stalking people walking by. You can see the human legs underneath the costume, but the person controlling it moves so accurately like an animal that combined with the sound effects and realistic texture, it scares some kids (and a few adults! haha)

Next, we reach the botanical gardens. They are filled with beautiful plants---but I don't find them any more impressive than the ones in Christchurch and Dunedin--until I notice the bats scattered throughout the trees. Isaac explains they are actually a similar species called flying foxes. I watch in amazement. One hangs upside down, stretches his wings wide, and soars through the air toward another tree. They chatter loudly, it reminds me of cicadas. Their open mouths are like Scream costume masks--long and narrow. I already love this city--urban pleasures and animal-filled forests are within walking distance from one another!

I have just enough time to stroll past the opera house and sit in the shade before we collect Laura from the airport. The six of us while away the rest of the evening passing around the acoustic guitar and bottle of wine, cool summer air wafting in from an open window.

Last day in NZ

2010-01-28T16:34:00.000-08:00

Today is my last day in New Zealand! It's hard to believe this segment of my trip is already over and I will be flying from Christchurch to Sydney tomorrow morning. Lately, whenever I sit down to write, it seems I am feeling one of two ways. Either I am so mellow in the moment that I simply want to experience the world around me rather than record it or such an abundance of thoughts, memories, and emotions are bubbling inside that choosing which to explore first is overwelming.

I left Dunedin on the Christchurch-bound Atomic Shuttle. We were caught in traffic south of Oamaru and switch buses in Timaru because the air conditioning broke in another bus needed to be returned to Christchurch (we had to ride in the one without). Despite the heat, the delays, for some reason I was utterly happy. I listened to my ipod, journaled, looked at the rolling hills out the window, and let my thoughts roam. One thing I am learning about long-term travel, is my moods do not necessaily correspond to the activity at hand. I may feel homesick during an amazing experience--such as my first sunset in Fiji and then completely content within a mundane one--such as when Laura and I were hanging laundry on the wire clothesline yesterday. And I think I'm starting to roll with those emotional changes more easily. Being on the road for almost half a year, I suppose I better!

Dunedin

2010-01-26T02:01:00.000-08:00

I arrive in Dunedin feeling a few pangs of homesickness. This has happened a couple times since I left at the beginning of January--I will have an hour of so where I feel out of sorts and glum. But it always passes and this time was no different. Tanya and Ted pick me up from the train station and instantly my mood lifts. Laura arrives shortly after and we drive back to their house in Sawyer's Bay, just outside of Dunedin.

Tanya used to work with Laura at the San Diego hostel but moved to Dunedin with her husband Ted and their two children a few years ago. They have kindly agreed to host us for three days. Their house is a bit small for guests, so they have set us up with warm sleeping bags and pillows in their camper just outside the house. We pull up to their lovely little cottage and I am amazed to learn that the property was completely trashsed when they first acquired it. They perservered through many renovations (which they completed themselves) and transformed it into a cozy, open floor plan full of warm color. Even more impressive are the vegetable gardens and chicken coop surrounding the house which their children, Palin (11) and Taia (6) help maintain as part of their daily chores.

Our first night is spent talking over homemade bread and apricot jam. I learn how Tanya and Ted met thirteen years ago at a hostel in Europe. After they married, they lived in the U.S. for several years. While they enjoyed some aspects of it, they ultimately decided New Zealand was a more appropriate fit for the lifestyle they want to live. Over the years they have alternated between one parent working while the other homeschooled Palin and Taia, interspersed with some long term travel experiences along the way. As I snuggle into my sleeping bag, I think about how much I already respect this family that breathes life into the notion of "working to live" rather than living to work.

The next day is my 30th birthday. We wake up early and begin a hike up Mount Cargill--the highest point in Dunedin. When we reach the top--Butter's Point--we eat homemade veggie-filled buns while admiring the view of Otago Peninsula below. This particular hike eventually meanders into downtown Dunedin and our first point of interest is Baldwin street. Baldwin street is the steepest street in the world so of course we have to climb it! Next we stroll the Dunedin Botanical Gardens which feature at least a dozen different types of roses. In the Octogan, which is the name for Dunedin's town center, we find a shady spot in the grass to lounge for a bit then take in the art gallery.

At home, dinner is a crisp salad of mixed greens that Ted plucked from the garden an hour beforehand and a stew of potatoes, vegan sausage, and sage. My new friends even celebrate my birthday! Tayna pairs chocolate muffins with I-can't-believe-it's-vegan rhubard ice cream. I blow out the candles and feel loved and cared for despite being halfway around the world.

Christchurch

2010-01-23T13:59:00.000-08:00

Rain, rain, rain. My first full day in Christchurch is so rainy the busker acts are cancelled. So I ended up spending much of my day in the hostel, library, and at the art gallery. The Frauenreisenhaus is a women's hostel with free bikes to borrow, an herb garden, and a lovely cottage setting. The quirky owner, Sandra, has two guinea pigs (Duchess and Princess) and can speak bits of 0ver 30 languages. The first room she shows me smells like stinky shoes (I suspect from the room's occupant). "Umm...do you have any air freshner?" I ask as politely as possible. She catches my drift and shows me the upstairs "Japanese" room which is airy and much better!

At the art gallery, I enjoy the new exhibit "The Naked and the Nude" which is a collection of pieces ranging from beautiful impressionistic nudes to sculptures of grotesque creatures, to strange such as a painting of a human body with a monkey's head. Afterwards, I ride in the rain to Perry's Cafe and inhale a vegetarian fritter. Yummy.

Back at the library, someone named Rory has responded to my couchsurfing request for tomorrow. I'm psyched! For those of you that are unfamiliar with it, Couchsurfing.org is an organization of people willing to host travelers in their homes. Members create an online profile (I'm Runnergirl1980 if you want to check mine out!) describing themselves, their place, and whether they are able to host a paticular day or couple of days. A surfer emails a potential host and if the host agrees, directions and details are swapped. Both surfers and hosts leave Ebay-like feedback about the experience so if someone had a very negative experience that host or surfer would likely be ostracized from the community. Rory had a long list of positive references so I was pretty confident we would get along.

The next day, Rory and I schedule to meet at 2pm outside the library. With 3 hours until then, I walk down Worchester and see the yellow and white striped tents of a craft market. Vendors hawk sheepskin lined boots, handmade jewelry, and wool scarves. A tarot card reader's sign offers to reveal the "Next 3 months of your future!" I smell carmelized nuts and someone is selling "pizzillas" but I can't tell how they differ from regular pizzas. I make my way to Columbo St. under a gray, drizzling sky and see the orange The Original $10 Haircut Bar. I've been wanting to cut my hair for weeks. I duck inside and announce I want to cut several inches. My hairdresser Cheri (pronounced "Sure-ee") is an enormous woman with bright purple hair and sweet disposition. I put my complete trust in her hands and she cuts my mop into a spunky, piece-y style just above my shoulders. Other attempts at going this short have made my hair poofy and afro-like but this time I love it!

I head to Cathedral Square and see the buskers are back on! I spend the next half hour watching "Mulletman" ride around the square on an extremely tall unicycle while catching flaming batons. Nearby, a woman dressed in a flight attendant outfit with laquered hair swivels back and forth on a platform robotically, pantomiming various flight attendant tasks.

I spend the rest of the day with Rory. We visit his friends Stu and Jenny and coo over their new baby girl, Ella. At another friend's, I play peek a boo with their 9 month old daughter, Tallulah and eat crumbly peanut butter cookies. Rory shows me some surrounding areas of Christchurch including Cave Rock in Sumner which you can underneath and on top of! I enjoy looking at the various mussels clinging to the lower section of rock. Back at Rory's, I have the cozy all-blue spare room which contains a super comfy bed. We play guitar, talk, and drink Mill Road Merlot before heading to his friend Michael's house. I attempt to hit a ball with a cricket paddle half as well as Michael's son does! The remainder of the day is spent laughing and enjoying new friends.

Tranzalpine to Christchurch

2010-01-20T22:29:00.000-08:00

It is grey and rainy as I board the Tranzalpine train at the Greymouth station but I'm told the opposite coast will yield better weather. I am happy to be seated in the carriage J, which is attached to the viewing platform at the very back of the train. I go to it immediately after the train pulls away from the station. The wind whips water throughout the connecting vestibule--dousing anyone that comes through it with water. The upside is I don't have to share the viewing area with many people! The conductor announces points of interest over the speakers but it's difficult to hear him over the rumbling train. Suddenly, a tunnel! The stony walls are so close I could touch them. We pass Lake Brunner but only a hint of the southern alps can be seen--it's so misty. I see wooly sheep, weather-worn houses, and plastic-wrapped bales of hay that look like giant marshmallows. My hair is a wet mop atop my head! We have to take our seats before entering the 15 minute long Orita tunnel due to the fumes in a tight space. As we enter it, I chuckle to myself as a man photographs the utter darkness out the window. Does he see something I don't? We exit the tunnel and pull into Arthur's Pass for a brief stop. Legs are stretched, photos snapped, and cigarettes smoked. The train continues through the rain until finally it seems we have outrun it. The mountains are closer and unobscured now. We are told the next 40 minutes are the highlight of the journey. What luck! We pass mountains colored in four shades of green rising above an ice blue river. Tunnel after tunnel (16 in all) engulf the train for 30 seconds at a time. I smell diesel and feel gritty but invigorated by the warm wind on my face and lush landscape rushing by. I am a happy, free vagabond eager to explore my next destination.

Nelson to Greymouth

2010-01-20T13:00:00.000-08:00

The journey from Nelson to Greymouth was a 6 hour Intercity bus ride through winding roads and blink-and-you'll-miss-it towns. Our driver, Glenn, was a wiry Auckland native with bad teeth but great stories. Once while he was hitchhiking and the driver started acting strangely, he escaped by pulling the hand brake then making a run for it on foot when the car finally stopped swerving. Intense!

The Truman Track between Westport and Punakaki is the most dramatic scenery of the drive featuring the "pancake rocks." These thin, stacked rocks got that way from a layering and weathering process called "Stylobedding." Check out the photo gallery section of the blog; I have added a few.

Laura and I split up for a few days. She's headed further south towards Wanaka. We plan to meet up again in Dunedin. I'm heading to Christchurch via the Transalpine--it's supposed to be one of the best rail journeys in the world! I will let you know how it goes!

Top 10 Favorite Songs while Traveling (at the moment)

2010-01-18T15:54:00.000-08:00

1. The wind (Cat Stevens)
2. Places to go (Hey Monea)
3. Wagon wheel (Old Crow Medicine Show)
4. Anything Donovan
5. Laundry room (Avett Brothers)
6. Society (Eddie Veddar)
7. This must be the place (Talking Heads)
8. You belong to me (Carla Bruni)
9. True love way (Kings of Leon)
10. In an aeroplane over the sea (as sung by Jenn Grinels)

#1 song I could never hear again and be happy--Party in the U.S.A. (Miley Cyrus) which all the kids in Viseisei, Fiji could not get enough of! This insidious song still gets stuck in my brain!

Nelson & Abel Tasman hike

2010-01-18T15:32:00.000-08:00

We originally intended to depart Neslon for Greymouth this morning but decided the 7:15am bus could wait one more day. This town itself is so pleasant. On our first day here, I wandered to the Christ Church Cathedral and climbed a gigantic tree in the surrounding gardens and proceeded to read in it for the next hour. That evening we played guitar with some other travelers at the Tasman Bay hostel. Yesterday we hiked to Appletree Bay along the picturesque coastal trail of Abel Tasman National Park. It was so unique to trek through a forest and find several beach access points! I believe the coastal trail is the largest preserved forest surrounding a beach in the whole country.

I am quickly realizing 3 weeks was not nearly enough time in this lush country. But rather than rushing around on buses trying to see "everything" I have made a conscious decision to do less but truly experience more. We really wanted to explore the Milford Sound area but with only 10 days remaining, we would have to make a mad dash for Christchurcht to fly out to Sydney. No thanks. Instead, I will take my time on the upper half of the North Island and luxuriate in a slower pace of life.

Seasick Crossing Cook's Strait!

2010-01-16T23:36:00.000-08:00

Laura and I boarded the Bluebridge ferry this morning at the misty Wellington Harbor. The journey to Picton Harbor is expected to take about 3 hours and be a bit bumpy today. We find two free seats together and decide to take turns exploring the massive ship while the other saves the seats. The seating looks very similar to that of a large airplane with 4 seat rows but also has lounge areas interspersed throughout the area. There are a few small cafes selling the standard snacks and beverages. There are even private cabins equipped with 2 beds which people must book for long journeys. Most people are getting ready to watch the movie on the big screen T.V. in the general seating area but I stand on the ship deck watching the Wellington buildings fade out of sight. Then I return to my seat so Laura can explore.

The boat begins bobbing up and down as we encounter large waves and I clam up with nausea. I try to relax and focus on the movie but my soon my head hurts and my stomach is churning. Panicked, I grab a complimentary white barf bag and sprint back outside. Leaning against the wall I try to think happy, non-barf thoughts. Then, I look to my left and see the German girl from a few rows back barfing in her bag. On my right an old woman barfs into hers. The undulating boat, this barf-fest around me, it's too much. I succumb to the seasickness and fill my own bag; miserable amid islands of gorgeous green hills. A kind crew member brings me a blanket, ice cubes (sucking on them is supposed to help), and more white bags. I try to remain as still as possible and suck on my ice cube. Eventually, the seas calm and so does my body. I am able to enjoy the rest of the ride and talk with the (now recovered) German girl and the Belgium guy she's traveling with. As we near Picton Harbor on the South Island even the weather has improved. The rain and grey skies of Wellington have given way to warmth and sunshine in Picton. Yay!

We board the Naked Bus bound for Nelson, our final destination for today. Naked Bus isn't what it sounds, rather it is a bare bones bus company outfit that runs to many NZ locations for reasonable prices. Apparently, even bathroom breaks are considered a luxury because when we stop to let one guy off, I tell the driver I'm going to pee while he retrieves the guy's pack from the back. "No you're not, no stops"he returns. I REALLY have to go so I run to the edge of the woods and relieve myself in a not-so-private spot, driver honking. He shoots me an annoyed glance as I climb back on the bus. I shrug, "Better out there than on your bus."

We arrive in Nelson and jump on the free bikes the Tasman Bay hostel provides to explore an adorable town with hanging baskets at every turn. I see a kid busking outside the grocery store with a sign that says "Happy go lucky traveler saving money to cross NZ" I toss a few coins in his guitar case and he strums a mellow tune. I like this place already.

Auckland, New Zealand

2010-01-12T11:50:00.000-08:00

I shiver with excitement as we make our final decent into Auckland. The aerial view of New Zealand is stunning--jagged fingers of mountainous land surrounded by shimmering ocean!

After drawing some NZ money from the ATM, a man approached us inquiring if we needed a ride to town. Christopher looked like the Winne the Pooh character "Christopher Robin" all grown up. His slight build was dressed in a striped tee, brown linen shorts, and blue socks. He topped off this look with a rumpled rainbow shouler bag. He had been waiting for some couchsurfers to arrive but they didn't show. Normally, I am skeptical of such offers but my intuition and previous experience with members of the Couchsurfing organization have been overwelmingly positive. Exiting the airport, I relished the crisp Auckland summer air--a refreshing change from the sweltering heat of Fiji!

Pentlands Hostel is located about 20 minutes from Auckland but a world away from it's hustle and bustle in a suburb called Mount Eden. The white trimmed pewter house was impossibly cute with potted succulents on its wooden deck. It also had a large kitchen, computers, laundry facilities, and immaculate bathrooms with hot water. All for a $20 NZ (or about $16 USD) a night. Hooray!

We spent our first day in Auckland walking, walking everywhere. The "City of Sails" is New Zealand's largest city inhabited by over a million people but with its abundance of trees and parks it feels more homey. We strolled past tree-lined Victoria Park where people were sprawled out reading, playing, relaxing. Viaduct Harbor is filled with shops, chic restaurants, and upscale apartments. Laura suggests a little turkish cafe on nearby K Rd. for dinner that proves to be delicious.

The next day, a fellow hosteller, Caitlan offers to take us in her car to hike to Fairy Falls in the Waitakere Ranges. Caitlan has been living in NZ for several months and is a wealth of knowledge about local plants and the Maori words for them. She pointed out Kauri the largest trees in NZ and their girth reminds me of redwoods. Mamaku are black ferns whose trunks are "normal" looking on the bottom but turn into a kind of hexagonal pattern higher up. Kawakawa (don't you love these Maori names?) are edible, minty, and medical for a host of ailments. Kaikomaka is bushman's tolietpaper! Caitlan also helped me realize I have been butchering the names of most towns and titles in NZ. Maori words are spoken with equal emphasis on each part of the word and usually phonetically. Also, "Wh" is pronounced as "F" So, for example, Whakatane is "Fock-a-tawny." Caitlan also doesn't wear shoes--even hiking! Nevertheless, she easily kept us with us as we hiked through the forest. We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking in the beauty of our surroundings at the base of Fairy Falls--sharing our thoughts, opinions, and dreams on everything. We finished our day with a hike up Mount Eden. Looking out upon this beautiful city at dusk, I could not have asked for a more idyllic day.

Our last day in Auckland we decide we need a car for further travels south. I have looked into other options--buses, rideshares, etc.--but after researching the rental options we find Budget Rental is actually cheaper. New Zealand drives on the left and it took me a good hour to get used to it while simultaneously trying to negotiate the roads of this huge city. Eventually we escape the confines of the city and it's all open road and renewed excitement. We are headed for the Eastern Cape!

P.S. "Hokey Pokey" is vanilla ice cream embedded with balls of honey and it is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Fiji

2010-01-07T15:17:00.001-08:00

Laura and I arrively safely in Nadi, Fiji early yesterday morning. We were met at the airport by Jit, a friend of the family who agreed to host us during our two-day layover here. I found Fi and Api through the Couchsurfing organization (http://www.couchsurfing.org/). I read on their profile that they had hosted over 100 travelers and they had areceived nothing but positive reviews!

Fi and Api live in the village of Viseisei, which was the first one established on the Viti Levu island. Despite arriving around 6am, the couple greeted us warmly. Inside, I noticed a small girl of about one-year old sleeping peacefully on a mattress on the floor. I learned that "Lessi" was not Fi and Api's daughter but the daughter of one of their neighbors. Api explained that everyone in the village is related and therefore it was expected for children to roam between the homes. Everything is shared and Lessi will be cared for by everyone in the village. I enjoyed spending time with Lessi and she quickly became comfortable with climbing on my lap to cuddle whenever I was around!

Our room was simple yet comfortable with two twin mattresses on either side, a wooden dresser piled high with Fiji travel information, and a piec of fabric hanging from the entryway for privacy. Despite the long plane ride (which Laura slept during but I could not) we were eager to explore, so Api gave us a quick tour of the village. As we walked, locals called out "Bula!" to us, which means "Welcome!"

The day grew hot and sticky so we decided to go swimming. Api works as a musician at a local resort, The Anchorage Hotel, where they have an amazing pool. He said the hotel would probably let us have a "day pass" to the pool is we asked and sure enough $5 Fijan dollars later (the equivalent of about $2.50 USD) we were happy and refreshed relaxing in the water. Api arrived later and we enjoyed listening to him strum Fijan tunes on the guitar as the sun began to set over the ocean.

By the time we returned to the house, we were exhausted from the previous day's travel and promptly fell asleep. A few hours later, I woke up to the sounds of music and laughter. Laura looked so peaceful sleeping I decided not to wake her. Outside, I learned that the chief was allowing the villagers to celebrate the New Year for a few more days and during that time they were permitted to listen to loud music. Indeed, all around me I heard the sounds of children chasing each other, women singing along with acoustic guitar, and young adults dancing to American rap/reggae music. And Fi was about to prepare kava for us all to drink.

Kava is the Fijan drink of choice. The kava root had already been pounded into a fine powder by some of the men in the village and I helped her pour 4 small bags of it into a bowl filled with water. Fi mixed the two together using a special cloth and within a few minutes the muddy looking liquid was ready. Fi and Api explained how I was to take the kava in the traditional way. You clap either once or twice with the "hollows of your hands," and a small bowl of kava will be handed to you. With an enthusiatic "Bula!" you drink the entire contents of the bowl before returning it to your host and clapping once again. I enjoyed a few more cups with Fi and Api before spending the rest of the evening meeting, talking, and laughing with other people in the village.

Packing List

2010-01-05T10:47:00.001-08:00

Below is a list of what I am carrying in my North Face 55L backpack and a small shoulder bag for the next 5 months:

LED mini-flashlight
universal plug adapter
ziploc bags
Nikon digital camera + charger
sunglasses usb cord
journal
3 4gb camera memory cards
padlock
cell phone + charger
water bottle
glue stick
tape
stuff sack (to squash down clothing)
ipod + charger
travel towel
2 long sleeve shirts
4 tank tops
3 t-shirts
2 long skirts
2 pairs shorts
black yoga pants
3 sports bras
Marmot rain jacket
poncho
fleece
swimsuit
2 sarongs
3 regular bras
running shoes
Teva sandals
flip flops
3 pairs socks
moneybelt
driver's license
2 credit cards
passport
cash
Hostelling card
list of important phone #s
photocopies of documents
travel insurance policy
pens
extra passport photos
bug spray
toothbrush + toothpaste
shampoo + conditioner
Neosporin
band-aids
Ibuprofen
Pepto-bismal tablets
sunscreen
tampons
foot file
bar soap
Malarone (malaria meds)
comb
hand sanitizer
lip balm
floss
mascara

Destinations

2010-01-04T16:01:00.000-08:00

Tonight I fly from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles where my around the world ticket begins. For this trip, there were basically two ways I considered doing it---either through a series of one-way tickets or using a reputable ticket consolidator such as Airtreks or Airbrokers. Given that I am pretty much winging every other aspect of my trip (where I will stay, what I will do, ground transportation, etc.) I decided to plan my overall flight route in advance and purchased an itinerary through Airbrokers. This still gives me some flexibility in how long I decide to stay in a particular city as long as I keep moving in the same general direction. I also intend to use regional airlines to move between shorter distances.

Jan 5 L.A. to Nadi, Fiji

Jan 9 Nadi, Fiji to Auckland, New Zealand

Jan 30 Christchurch, New Zealand to Sydney, Australia

Feb 20 Melbourne, Australia to Kuala Lumpur, Malyasia

Mar 6 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Phuket, Thailand

April 10 Bangkok, Thailand to Athens, Greece

May 20 Prague, Czech Republic to Amsterdam, Netherlands

June 3 Amsterdam, Netherlands to Boston, USA

Time to catch the bus to the SLC airport!

-Allie

One Week to Go

2009-12-29T06:26:00.000-08:00

After months of dreaming and planning, my around the world adventure is finally just one week away! The first leg of my around the world ticket is not until January 5 but my life the road has already begun. My boyfriend, Jason, wanted to spend the holidays together before my departure so we booked a trip to the Caribbean--one week in Nevis and one week in Antigua.
The return flight is so close to January 5 that it does not make sense to go home to Jackson in between. Instead, I will have just a few days in Salt Lake City before flying to Los Angeles.

This meant saying my goodbyes earlier than I orginally expected. There were last dinners with friends, lengthy phone calls to family in the Midwest, and promises to stay in touch with everyone via this blog. I was particularly emotional about leaving the children I nannied for the past three years when up to this point I had not been away from them for longer than two weeks. I think it was the right decision as the family has reached a point where they no longer need a full-time nanny. I assured the kids that although I would not be their nanny, I would always be their friend.

With so many loved ones in Jackson and around the country, I know I will battle some bouts of homesickness. But I also know if I don't take this trip, I will regret it. Best not to overthink everything and simply take life as it comes. And right now, it is time to enjoy these beautiful beaches with Jason! -Allie