First thing’s first, this song will always remind me of my weekend with Ali and her friends.

I left Nelson Bay after hearing back from a few possible work opportunities in Melbourne. I headed down to see my friend Ali in Sydney before I continued my job hunt in Melbourne. I didn’t spend too much time in Sydney, but I packed a lot in. A highlight for me was walking from Bondi Beach to Bronte along the coast.

Since Ali and I met in Africa (Tanzania), we decided it would be fitting to go to the south coast of NSW to a beach called Congo for a camping trip. I met a few of Ali’s friends and had a great time.

Perhaps I jumped the gun and left Sydney too quickly for Melbourne. I find myself sitting a lot and waiting for people to get back to me. My thoughts wander from Melbourne to India to Indonesia etc. So far I have found a job that could begin in about a month’s time. If nothing else comes up soon, I may spend the next month traveling rather than paying rent for a place in the city. It’s all up the air, and like I said, I find myself sitting and waiting. That being said, I am lucky enough to be staying with Simon and Laura, who I met in Jordan, who have been awesome and completely welcoming. In addition, I did some painting today for the first time in AGES. I guess sitting isn’t so bad

While in Port Macquarie over Christmas Justin and his dad decided to go on a photography trip to Springbrook and Lamington National Parks for the remainder of Justin’s time off from work. Cristina and I decided to tag along but in our own car with our own schedule. For starters, Justin left Nelson Bay early New Years Day! Cris and I decided not to be crazy and instead spent our first day of 2012 (in chronological order) jumping in the perfect blue ocean, eating banana pancakes on the balcony and then returning to the beach. It was a perfect January 1st!

On Januray 2nd Cris and I made it as far north as Coff’s Harbour, famous for its giant banana, where we slept in a massive tent at a caravan park. Unfortunately it was dark when we arrived so I couldn’t see the big banana or the inner workings of the tent!

For most of the trip, we were driving Justin’s huge truck, named Bessie, which did not fit with our image. It was hilarious to watch people’s expressions as they saw two tiny girls get out of this truck, jump into the tray and unload our gear. I especially liked it when we were wearing dresses!

I’ll take a moment here to describe a very bizarre phenomenon of Australia- giant versions of things. I have no idea why, but Aussies seem to love building huge statues of anything that is popular. For example, I have seen a giant banana, a giant prawn and a gas station shaped like Uluru (Ayers Rock). The giant prawn was gross, since prawns are not very pretty animals, and I suppose the sculpture of Uluru is technically a miniature. But still, it’s odd!

The next morning we headed up to Byron Bay, a funny surf town that I can only describe as ‘bourgeoisie bohemian’. There’s loads of people with dreadlocks and prayer flags hanging off the walls, but the ‘local organic food’ will coast you an arm and a leg and high end boutiques line the streets. After walking around and realising I couldn’t afford anything, Cris and I decided to go for a swim. We parked Bessie on the road and changed into our bikinis right there.

The beach was incredible, one of the nicest I have seen in a long time. The water was a perfect turquoise and crystal clear. It was also nice and warm. Cris said it was like a bath, but I thought that was pushing it!

After a swim we walked to the Cape Byron Lighthouse, Australia’s most easterly point of the mainland. It was very beautiful, and the strong winds made for funny pictures of Cris’ hair!

Once back at the truck, we changed back into our clothes and continued driving. I have to say that there are some big differences between driving in Australia vs Canada, aside from what side of the road you are on. For starters, the Aussie Pacific Highway has sections with school crossing zones where the speed limit is 20 km/h. In addition, some parts of the highway have two speed limits, one for dry days and one for wet days. I couldn’t believe that Australia had to physically make a law that said you should drive slower when it’s raining. Is there no common sense? Also, there are so many street signs on the road I found myself overwhelmed with reading. Some of the signs are terrifying. For example, one billboard with a picture of a surgeon said ‘Late? Or crushed skull? You decide. This holiday don’t speed.’ Another common sign, with a picture of a head-on collision simply says ‘Crash Zone next 5km’. I was always biting my nails while going through a crash zone, because, crap, it’s where head-on collisions occur! Australia has some pretty intense fear tactics.

But it’s not all scary on the roads. We listened to the Triple J radio station for most of our way which plays a variety of good music but also a lot of Aussie Hip Hop. Aussie Hip Hop is like nothing I have ever heard before. The guys ‘rapping’ sound like they are trying to be tough but are talking about having a barbecue on the beach with their friends in the sun. I couldn’t help laughing and enjoying this painfully bad music. That being said, a lot of Australian music is pretty good.

Back on the road Cris and I arrived in Springbrook National Park at sunset and met up with Justin and his dad Glenn at the ‘Best of all Lookout’. Yes, that really was the name and I suppose it was a nice lookout. I was more blown away by the Antarctic Beech trees along the path which are still alive and approximately 2,000 years old! This is where Fern Gully begins…

For those of you who don’t know, Fern Gully is an old animated movie, featuring the voice talent of Robin Williams and Tim Curry, about a fairy who lives in the rainforest and teaches a human working for a timber company about the beauty of nature. I remember the movie mostly for the songs, especially the Batty Rap and Toxic Love, but apparently the entire movie takes place in Australia in this part of Queensland! Mount Warning, mentioned several times in the movie can be seen from several lookouts in Springbrook including the beautiful Twin Falls walk that Cris and I did. In addition, the fairies of Fern Gully live in a large Antarctic Beech tree. Yep, biology nerd once again!

Our next stop was Lamington National Park, which was the actual site that inspired the movie Fern Gully. It’s a beautiful rainforest with lots of cool plants and animals. Cris and I saw a great sunset from the top of a 30m Strangler Fig tree. These trees grow from the  top of another tree and slowly wrap their roots around their host before strangling it to death, leaving only the Strangler Fig and a hollow middle. It’s a pretty mean tactic but the effect looks like one tree hugging another in a beautiful lattice.

While walking to a waterfall with Justin, who took some great photos of Cris and I (thank you Justin!), we saw loads of fern trees and some nice birds. Later on we also saw some pademelons, which are like very small kangaroos. In Fern Gully a pademelon carries Zak’s walkman to the fairies. Remember walkmans!?

The only downside of Lamington was O’Reily’s, a bizarre hotel and restaurant located right in the middle of the park. They feed a lot of the wildlife and generally ruin the feeling of being in the middle of the rainforest. But oh well, it was a place for Cris to charge her phone!

Cris and I drove back toward Nelson Bay the inland way stopping in the weird hippie town of Nimbin. At first I found the one street town cute and funny, swimming in tie dye and bong shops. After awhile the novelty wore off and I found the conflicting ideologies of Buddhist prayer flags, Rastafarianism and 1960′s Hippie annoying. But they had good curry chicken pies!

The drive back through inland Australia was just as gorgeous as the coastal drive north. Bessie was looking good, as was Cris in her super Aussie Akubra hat!

Somehow I let a month slip by in Australia without posting on my blog. It must be all the distractions, mostly hanging out and catching up with Cristina, one of my close friends from home. I’ll try my best to start at the beginning…

After a long stay in the Saigon airport I began to feel pretty ill. Luckily, I got a seat on the plane with two empty ones beside it. I was horizontal and asleep before the plane took off and woke up only one hour away from Sydney. Clearly, it was a good flight!

From Sydney I headed straight north to Port Stevens, Nelson Bay, to meet up with Cris and her boyfriend Justin. They have an amazing apartment overlooking the ocean and a few small mountains. I spent my first week in Australia exploring the bay, checking out the beach and a few viewpoints. It’s a little like living in a postcard!

Between the short walks down to the beach I began to put a demo reel together to show off my work to potential employers. You can check it out here: http://vimeo.com/33757281

With the arrival of Christmas I got to meet a lot of Cris’ friends and surrogate family. I was really happy to see that she’s managed to surround herself with really great people. On Christmas morning I got my very first official present from Santa: Furry Friends Chocolate! This amazing present, actually from Justin, was a bunch of chocolate shaped like Australian animals. Biology and chocolate?! Love it!

After lunch with Justin’s mom, the rest of Christmas was spent up the coast with Justin’s dad in Port Macquarie. We made a tourist trip out of it and visited the Koala hospital and the Flying Fox infested Nature Reserve. Justin’s dad Glenn used to guide people through the reserve and knew a lot about the environment. The Flying Foxes were huge!

Of course any trip in Australia would not be complete without the ‘mandatory’ stops along the coast to check the surf. Justin surfed at every stop we made. In Crescent Head the waves seemed pretty big due to the remnants of a cyclone that had hit further north. In Crowdy Head, further south, the waves were small enough for surf lessons! After two days of lessons I managed to stand up on the board three times! Unfortunately I managed to flash the kids on the beach and Justin much more frequently!

In Crowdy Head we stayed with Cris’ surrogate family, the Browns. They are a really lovely family and completely welcomed me. Aside from attempting to surf, our time in Crowdy was spent much like cottage days- putting together puzzles and eating. The food was different though, fresh local prawns bought by the kilo! We made a killer prawn salad based on Wendy Brown’s recipe.

We got back ‘home’ just in time for New Year’s Eve. We watched the fireworks on the water and then hung out with some of Justin and Cristina’s friends. My first day of 2012 was spent (in chronological order) swimming in the perfect blue ocean, eating banana pancakes on the balcony and then returning to the beach! Like I said, I’ve been living in a postcard!

Simon and I left Luang Prabang behind and headed north for one more little loop together before I headed back south to Vientiane to catch my flight. In fact, as I write this entry, I am sitting in the Saigon airport awaiting my last and longest flight to Australia… but we’ll get to that later.

Our first stop was a beautiful little town called Nong Khiau. This village is nestled between two large karsts hugging the Nam Hou River.  Although I found the people here a little cold, the natural beauty of the area made up for it. Simon and I found a great cheap bamboo bungalow to call home and watched a fairly spectacular sunset between the karsts over the river.

The next day Simon woke up and climbed a mountain before dawn. Needless to say I slept through that one! However we did spend the day walking along a path that followed the river to visit a few smaller villages and some orange orchards. We may or may not have helped ourselves to a few fallen oranges!

Perhaps the most important discovery that day was an incredible restaurant just across the road from our bungalow. It was so delicious we planned our next day in town around when we’d eat all three meals there! As for the rest of the second day in Nong Khiau ‘on a glondé,’ meaning we relaxed and did little. It was lovely, but we decided to move on northwards the next day.

For a change of pace, Simon and I headed north by boat. This way we could get a glimpse of some of the villages without road access. The ride was beautiful, though a little cold by the end when we finally reached our destination of Muang Khua. We were the only passengers left on the boat. Perhaps this should have been a warning as to the type of town we were entering.

Muang Khua, to me, seems to be a meeting point of three worlds: Laos, Vietnam and China. Across the suspension bridge you can find the typical Laos village life. Just 100 or so kilometers across the river, crossed by a barge that Simon loved to watch, was the Vietnamese border. In fact, Vietnamese workers were just down river constructing a bridge, so long Simon’s beloved barge! The big problem, of course, was that pesky Chinese world creeping into Laos. The people here were generally awful. Goodbye smiles and common courtesy, hello spitting, avoiding eye contact and children that chuck dirt at you. Damn you China, stay on your side of the border!

Unfortunately for Simon and I, there was little to do in Muang Khua without the help of a guide. We were hoping that with a guide we could do a two-day trek to a few of the Akha villages nearby. However, when dealing with the people of Muang Khua, I wish you luck. The tourism office was closed our first day, so we visited a guesthouse covered in posters about trekking to the Akha villages. When we asked for some information the woman shrugged and said she had none. There was a phone number on the poster so I asked if we could use her phone. ‘No phone’ she replied. When I pointed at the large phone on the desk she said ‘no money.’ When I explained that you don’t need money to use a desk phone she replied ‘no English.’ With great irritation, I had to laugh at how she could say she spoke no English after about 10 minutes of English conversation.

The next day we went to the tourism office hoping for a more friendly experience. Boy were we wrong. After the man showed us his price for a trek, without even telling us where we’d be going, and saw that it was well out of our price range, he had absolutely no interest in helping us. He actually told us to get out so he could talk on his cell phone. What a joke. Tourism office my ass. Oh well, we hoofed it out of Muang Khua and got on the first bus leaving that dismal town. Luckily for us, it was headed to OudomXay, our planned destination.

OudomXay is a town at a crossroads. From here you can head in almost all directions. This is where Simon and I planned to part ways. Due to the Muang Khua fiasco, we had a few extra days here then we’d planned. Although the guidebooks will tell you to avoid this town, Simon and I found the people very friendly and there were a few nice walks around the surrounding countryside. We even got to visit a Hmong village where the people spoke no Lao. We stumbled upon a bunch of boys playing an awesome game in which you flick a wooden top with a whip and try to hit someone else’s. We didn’t quite make out all the rules. Further along a nice old man gave us a grapefruit from his tree, which was a delicious and messy treat.

Despite the kindness of the Hmong, and the pleasant countryside, I have to admit that half my mind was busy thinking about the inevitable goodbye that Simon and I would be facing shortly. I can’t believe that over the last 17 or so months I have not learned how to say goodbye. It always seems to be a mess of tears and sobs. Since I’d traveled with Simon for longer than anyone else thus far, it was bound to be a rough goodbye, even knowing that I may see him in Australia in a few months. I can still see Simon’s smiling face turned all the way around toward me from the back of his bus as it headed west. I would be lying if I said part of me hadn’t wished I’d been on that bus with him. There’s still of piece of me that longs to be on that bus.

When I think of Australia I am filled with confusion. I am excited to see my friends there, especially Cristina, and I am looking forward to the long summer evenings when the sun stays up until late. However I am also filled with worry. I can feel my heart beating all the way down to my feet when I think about finding a job, an apartment and trying to root myself to one place for a while. I feel like I didn’t just say goodbye to Simon, but also to a life style that I don’t think I’ll ever really be ready to give up. I have to keep reminding myself that I can always leave and travel elsewhere if I don’t find what I’m looking for. I suppose part of the trouble is that I have no idea what I’m looking for.

As I said, I am now at the Saigon Airport awaiting my last flight, which will bring me to Sydney. From OudmonXay I spent a few lonely hours in town before embarking on an 18 hour bus ride to Vientiane. From there it was a quick flight to Phnom Penh followed by an even quicker flight here. The next flight won’t be so short, but it will be a lot shorter than that bus ride.

I suppose that even when I left Canada Australia was always in my mind as a destination. It’s been quite a journey there, with many tangents. Simon shared this poem with me and I think it fits me well. I guess Australia has been my Ithaca. At least for now…

Ithaca by Konstantinos Kavafis (originally in Greek, 1911)

As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon – you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind -
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Top Five Things I will Miss about Simon:

5) The best/worst bathing suit on the planet (fluorescent yellow with white flowers)

4) His unhealthy love of salted butter, which he insists is the ONLY butter

3) Blah Blah Blee, Blah Blah Blo

2) His ability to make me laugh, no matter the circumstances

1) The way he gasps to say ‘yes’

xoxo

Big Day in the Not-So-Big City

Simon and I left Savannakhet in a hurry, wondering why we’d stopped there for a night in the first place. Aside from a sweet little dinosaur museum with a very enthusiastic curator, there was absolutely nothing to do in the overpriced city. We took a night bus to the capital, Vientiane, in the hopes to make up for lost time.

There is not much to say about Vientiane. Like Savannakhet, there is not much to do and the city seems dispersed and almost empty. It was also extremely expensive, as I’ve found the main tourist trail in Laos seems to be. Instead of running away from the price tags I embraced them. My time in Vientiane can be described as one big splurge.

First I had a delicious breakfast and lunch that cost about three times the price of Simon’s. Later, I finally bought my plane ticket to Australia, using my visa card for the first time in who knows how long! After that oh-so-stressful purchase, I treated myself to a traditional Lao style massage. I think it was a lot like a traditional Thai massage. The little woman massaging me used her feet as much as her hands. At one point she was standing on the backs of my knees with my calves and feet bent up and wrapped around her for support as she walked her hands over my back. It was like an acrobatic massage! That evening Simon joined in on the splurge and we had an amazing pizza dinner and cake.

Aside from spending money, our time in Vientiane revolved around Simon getting his Thai visa. We visited a temple called Wat Si Saket, which houses over two thousand Buddha statues of various sizes, and the golden stupa of Pha That Luang, which serves as the symbol of Laos.

Tubing Sober?!

After only one night in Vientiane, which was more than enough, Simon and I braced ourselves for Vang Vieng, a small town a few hours north, famous for drunken tubing down the Song River. Before we found ourselves confronted with the ugly side of tourism, we were lucky to find an amazing guesthouse that opened only ten days earlier! It was the cleanest room I’d seen since leaving Canada. Simon had a hell of a time getting me to leave the room to check out the town.

In my opinion Vang Vieng is the perfect example of tourism gone horribly, horribly wrong. When we arrived, around 6pm, we saw numerous shoeless, shirtless tourists that were so drunk and or high they could barely open their eyes. Some of them were making their way to the numerous restaurants playing either Friends or Family Guy on repeat. Now I like Family Guy very much, but when in a beautiful small town surrounded by karst scenery and fields, the last thing I want to hear is the soundtrack to Family Guy. As for Friends, I never what to watch that crap!

And now for the tubing. Although outrageously expensive, Simon and I decided to give it a go just to see what it was. As soon as I got in the tuk tuk I regretted it. I could see that Simon and I were not among like-minded tourists. Before you can even start tubing you are given a free shot of whiskey. Simon and I had about $2.50 between us, so drinking the day away obviously wasn’t going to happen.

Once we were in our tubes I got really annoyed. There were loads of bars crammed together along the river playing the worst music incredibly loud. To make matters worse each bar ‘fishes’ for you to come and spend money at their place. This means that they chuck a filled water bottle tied to string into the water, usually aiming at your head. They do this even if you say no. One British guy would not stop fishing for me. It ended with me giving him the finger and him telling me to fuck off.

Luckily, things improved quickly. We got a little further down river and stopped at a bar with slides and a trapeze swing that you could jump off of into the river. We didn’t have to spend money and we could still have fun. Perfect! As soon as I jumped off that swing into the river I felt way better!

The rest of our tubing wasn’t very eventful. We hung out in hammocks at one of the last bars and eventually floated back to Vang Vieng. Overall I’d say if you want to get trashed with a bunch of obnoxious tourists then this is the activity for you. Personally I think it was overpriced and overhyped.

Fortunately, tubing isn’t the only thing to do around Vang Vieng. Simon and I spent the morning before tubing in the countryside walking around and admiring the karst scenery. It was a bit like Yuangshou, China and a bit like Halong Bay, Vietnam but different. The karsts were more closely joined together and appeared more like a mountain range. There are many caves in the area, but you have to pay money to visit them. Simon and I had a good time just wandering and getting lost in the fields for free!

Money, Money, Money

From Vang Vieng we headed to the third and final major tourist destination in Laos, the ancient capital city of Luang Prabang. The bus ride there was an attraction in itself with the most beautiful scenery I have seen since leaving Mongolia. Unlike the other Laotian cities, Luang Prabang was quite lovely with many little streets and a huge night market. It is also dotted with many temples and even more monks living in them. The most popular activity here is to wake up at sunrise and watch the line of monks collect food (usually a bit of rice) from fellow Buddhists. Simon and I had caught this ceremony when we arrived at sunrise in Vientiane. It was very lovely there but slightly destroyed in Luang Prabang with many tourists photographing the monks with a flash and giving offerings as a novelty. There were more tourists than locals participating!

Money seemed to be on everyone’s mind in Luang Prabang. As soon as we arrived, a fellow tourist who’d been to the city a number of times told us it was impossible to find a room for less than fifty thousand kip. We found one for forty thousand almost immediately. Woots!

There are a lot of things to see and do in Luang Prabang but big surprise, you’ll be charged for each and every one of them. Want to see the Royal Palace Museum? You’ll have to sneak in like Simon and I did if you don’t want to pay. How about some temples? Many of them charge an entrance fee. We did pay to see one temple, called Wat Xieng Thong, which was very beautiful with many mirrored mosaics of peasant life. Want to climb the central mountain for a nice view of the city? Sorry, that will cost you the same price as entering a temple! Want to leave the city and check out the village on the other side of the river? Guess what? You’ll have to pay nearly a dollar to cross the rickety bamboo bridge! Ha! Want to see some of the beautiful countryside around Luang Prabang including the Kuang Si waterfall? Well that will cost you for the tuk tuk ride there as well as an entrance fee for the falls. That being said, Kuang Si was very nice, with a bear sanctuary, though packed with tourists.

Lucky for Simon and I, if you ignore the guidebooks and just walk around you can find a lot of free temples and good viewpoints around the city. One temple was tiny but had amazing paintings inside. The view we found of the Mekong at sunset was better than what I think we’d have seen at the top of the hill.

Overall I enjoyed the major tourist sights of Laos but I don’t think any of them are exceptional. I much preferred the south, especially the small village of Ban Papho. With only nine days until my flight to Australia, Simon and I are headed north for a short loop before I head back down to Vientiane. I hope we can get off the tourist trail a little bit one more time and get away from the money and the booze!

My first thought while entering Laos was ‘Let’s turn around and go back to Cambodia!’ We had somehow found ourselves on a monster tourist bus with a monster crowd of tourists all heading to Sii Phan Dhon, a grouping of small islands on the Mekong River just north of the Cambodian border. There were a lot of Laotians taking advantage of us tourists and I was not impressed. It was not the introduction to Laos I had expected.

On Don Det (Island) things weren’t much better. Although the lazy island was pretty with no shortage of hammocks to relax in, I found the immense number of tourists a little distracting and the locals to be rude. Simon, a French couple whom we’d met in Cambodia and I spent a day on bicycles touring Don Khon, just to the south of Don Det. As my knee was still messed up from the motorbike tumble, I was once again on the back of Simon’s bike. Although it was a bit of tourist trap, Don Khon was emptier and very peaceful. The Tad Somphamit waterfall was very nice. While Simon swam in the strong current of the Mekong I sat in a hammock and read. We watched the sunset from the bridge connecting the two islands. My second day in Don Det consisted only of eat- sleep- read- hammock.

After two days in Sii Phan Dhon, Simon and I were ready to leave the tourist trail a little behind and go off on the dirt road to the village of Ban Papho. To get there we ended up hitching a ride on the back of a bizarre ‘wagon meets lawnmower’ contraption that I have only ever seen in Laos. Simon says they have them in France, but I never saw one! Either way, the wagon was packed with ladies holding umbrellas and their children. Despite riding for two hours in a wagon on a dusty, bumpy, dirt road through the Xe Pian National Park Area, the women seemed almost bourgeoisie with their parasols. They were very nice to me and I was relieved to meet some sweet Laotian people. The driver was also very kind and didn’t ask us for any money for the ride.

Our stay in Ban Papho was filled with friendly faces, especially those of children. The man who runs the only guesthouse in town was very kind and spoke (in French!) to us a bit about the history of the village. Just 50 years ago, Ban Papho was still an ‘elephant village’ boasting a group of about 200 domesticated elephants. For centuries, Ban Papho had used elephants for logging and other difficult labor. Now, however, with machinery, and for the last three years, electricity, Ban Papho no longer uses elephants and has sold almost all of them to Thailand. Only a few remain for tourism.

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, then you’ll know that I have had several opportunities to ride on the back of an elephant but have always turned it down in fear that I would be promoting the kidnapping of wild elephants for tourism. However, in Ban Papho all my worries were set at ease and I was finally able to touch an elephant! The elephant was 35 years old and obviously born in captivity from a long line of domesticated elephants.  In addition, the mahout was very nice with the elephant and didn’t even carry a stick, let alone hit the animal.

The trip was about two hours long and the elephant took us through the wetlands of the area to a volcanic hill for a view. More than the landscape, I found myself distracted by two things. First, I could not get over how nonchalant the mahout was about riding an elephant. It was hilarious to see him ahead of us sitting on the elephant’s neck smoking a cigarette and speaking on his cell phone. Secondly, I could not stop looking, and photographing, our shadow. I couldn’t believe I was on an elephant! I could feel her shoulder blades moving under my butt (I was sitting on her neck) and the deep exhales of air from her trunk.

Bathing the elephant was definitely the best part of the experience. To be more specific, it was more like staying on top of her while she bathed herself. I was taken by surprise when she dunked her head under the water the first time completely soaking me. Luckily Simon had my camera! It was good fun. All that said, I was not as blown away by riding an elephant as I thought I would be. I much prefer to watch them from the ground. While I enjoyed my riding experience I don’t feel that I’d like to do it again, which is just as well considering how picky I am about the conditions

We left Ban Papho the next day via bus, which was much faster and more comfortable than the lawnmower-wagon! The owner of our guesthouse gave us water and bananas for the road, what a kind man.

After spending the night in Pakse, only to use an ATM, we headed northwest to the Bolaven Plateau to check out the villages and waterfalls. We found a sweet family-run guesthouse near Tad Lo and spent the afternoon at the waterfall. The falls were nice, but the water was freezing! The next day we walked from village to village, which were packed with puppies, piglets, and children, and checked out Tad Suong waterfall. The waterfall itself was lacking water, but the surroundings were great. Simon encouraged me to climb over a sea of boulders to reach the very base of the falls. After accomplishing that task, we found a path leading up to the top of the falls. I was completely exhausted when we finally got up there, but I was proud not to have held Simon back. Dunking my head in the ice-cold water and checking out the view below also helped perk me up!

I’ve now been in Laos just over a week and barely made any tracks north. With only a few weeks left and a lot of ground to cover, Simon and spent a day on the bus heading towards Savannakhet in Central Laos. My legs are still a bit sore from our walk in Tad Lo, but I am eager to see what the north of the country has to offer!

Part I: Paradise Lost

When I pictured Koh Kong Island, I envisioned pristine deserted beaches with turquoise water and white sand. I thought the south coast of Cambodia would be a quiet beach getaway on a not-so-popular ‘Thai-like’ island. Unfortunately, Simon and I learned that Koh Kong Island is a restricted military zone and thus no one can sleep on the island. We decided to go to Sihanoukville instead, what a shame.

Sihanoukville to me was an ok beach with a lot of the annoying things that come with beach towns; loads of tourists looking to get drunk, tons of touts trying to sell you anything from a manicure to sunglasses, and a lot of crap music playing in the background. While trying to relax in this environment, I somehow got coaxed into having my leg and armpit hair removed by a strange string-method. Basically the women roll a string around several fingers and somehow manage to pluck out hairs. My armpits were particularly painful. I won’t recommend it. After about three days my hair started to return with a lot of annoying ingrown hairs. Simon thought it was very funny to pay for so much pain.

The next few days in Sihanoukville were more enjoyable. We found that if we walked a long way down the beach, we had less neighbours and less sound pollution. I spent my time reading a few books including Anthony Kiedis’ biography ‘Scar Tissue’ followed by ‘First they Killed my Father,’ an incredible book about the Khmer Rouge atrocities from the perspective of a five year old girl. I really recommend this book to anyone, even if they have no interest in Cambodian history. It was very well written and such an incredible story. To keep the depression going I picked up the book ‘Revolutionary Road’ on my way out of Sihanoukville.

For our last day on the beach we decided to do a snorkeling trip to a few of the surrounding islands. The snorkeling gear was pretty shitty so my mask continually leaked which really hurt my contact lenses. Luckily Simon got a good mask and was able to enjoy some snorkeling. The activities and crew on the boat were not particularly wonderful but I still had a good day. I swear there is a universal law that if you own a boat you have to be male, around 20 years old and an asshole! I don’t understand it! Fortunately so many Cambodians are wonderfully friendly so I was cheered up almost immediately after leaving the boat.

Part II: Paradise Found

Cambodia’s charms returned when Simon and I left the coast and headed north to Kompong Cham, a small town on the Mekong River dotted with old French colonial buildings. It was festival time and we got to see a boat race on the river as well as a ton of kids playing on trampolines, bumper cars and a Ferris wheel. It was amazing to watch little kids, about four years old on average, having the time of their lives on these bumper cars, which go slower than a walking pace, and then sulk when they got on their parent’s motorcycle to go home!

From Kompong Cham we followed the Mekong north to Kratie. The bus was three hours late so we arrived in the dark. While we looked for a hostel we met Cat, a British girl who was on our bus. We ended up sharing a room three ways for our two nights in Kratie.

Our one and only day in Kratie was really nice. The three of us got bicycles and rode along the river in search of the freshwater Irrawaddy dolphins. We never saw the dolphins, but we did witness someone try to charge us 7$ EACH for sitting on a bench with a potential view of the creatures. Yea right… But it didn’t really matter. The scenery along the way was really pretty and it was nice to go through the small villages.

We bought some Krolan in a village and ate it up top a hill with a nice view of the Mekong. Krolan is a delicious mixture of sticky rice, coconut and a few beans stuffed inside a bamboo shoot. It is super yummy, easy to transport and fun to peel. I hope to find it again!

After the hot hours of the day passed, we biked to the other side of Kratie to watch the sunset over the Mekong. The sunset did not disappoint and we were entertained playing soccer with a bunch of the village kids. Simon particularly enjoyed it. I felt like I was in Africa again.

On November 11, 2011 Simon and I headed to Ban Lung (Ratanakiri) in the north east of the country. Simon was very excited that today was 11:11:11:11:11:11 (year 11, month 11, day 11, hour 11, minute 11, second 11). To boot, our room number turned out to be 111. Simon could not have been happier!

Ratanakiri was a place filled with rolling hills of jungle, butterflies and wild flowers. We visited a crater lake and a few waterfalls by bicycle. One waterfall served as an excellent shower and photo opportunity. As you can see by the pictures, I looked nice under the falls, but I was not quite as graceful getting to and from them!

The next day we headed 55km north with a French couple to an ethnic village called Ta Veng by motorbike. Simon was a very good driver and tried his best not to go too fast for me. The road was hilly and rocky and at one wet patch we had a bit of a tumble. We were barely moving and fell over. Still, my knee is now fairly bruised and walking is a bit painful. The actual village of Ta Veng was nothing special but the drive was very nice. Due to the road conditions it took two hours to get to the village.

Tomorrow we leave Cambodia and head to Laos. Although I am extremely excited to visit Laos, I will be sad to leave Cambodia. I really enjoyed my time here and I hope the people never change. In Phnom Penh the words ‘Le Pays aux Mille Sourires’ (Country of a Thousand Smiles) was painted on a wall. I completely agree!

‘I ♥ Cambodia’ is a popular T-shirt around here. Although I haven’t bought one, I completely agree. More specifically, I love the Cambodians themselves. It all started with Tai (or maybe he spells it Thai), a nice guy Simon and I met as soon as we crossed into Cambodia from Ha Tien. Although he wasn’t running a restaurant, he fed us, gave us some booze, and talked with us about his country. He then helped us find a bus to Kep because he didn’t want us to get ripped off by the motorcycle taxis. Nice guy!

In Kep, a small beach town, the people continued to impress me. Simon and I played and chatted with a family while swimming in the ocean. The grandfather lives half the year in Texas and spoke perfect English. The kids liked to practice their English, but seemed more interested in having Simon flip them into the water. It was a nice relaxing two days, eating crab and squid, swimming in the ocean and watching the sunsets. I was happy to see that the hammock lifestyle did not disappear as we crossed the border from Vietnam.

I thought perhaps the people in Phnom Penh would be more aggressive, but I was mistaken. Tuk tuk drivers smiled, happily gave us accurate directions when we were walking rather than paying them for a ride and backed off instantly when we declined their services. This was a huge change from the regular attitude of ‘follow the tourists with your tuk tuk until they change their minds.’

Aside from the people I enjoyed myself quite a bit in the city. We met up with Neal to watch the Rugby final (big deal for some people) our first day. Simon didn’t seem too devastated by the loss. The following day we checked out a wat (temple) and the central market (tourist trap) while we waited for the small window of time when you can visit the Royal Palace. Luckily Neal had bought some T-shirts as apparently shawls are not good enough for covering your shoulders. This happened again later on in Angkor Wat. I will never understand why I needed to cover my shoulders for an empty palace or an unused temple while I could wear short shorts and a tank top in a currently used wat that morning. Very odd.

All that aside I enjoyed the Royal Palace. The price was a bit steep, 6$, considering most of the grounds are off limits, but I really liked the architecture. I suppose it is similar to the Thai style, but it was very different from anything I’d seen in Vietnam. In fact, to me it looked almost Indian at times!

The next day Simon and I delved a bit into Cambodia’s darker and more recent history at the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, also known as S-21. The Khmer Rouge converted this old high school into a high security prison in 1975. People could be arrested for any reason, such as wearing glasses, and subjected to horrendous torture. Anyone who was arrested was presumed guilty. The Khmer Rouge ‘never made mistakes,’ so torture was inflicted to get a confession. Once a confession was made, no matter how false it was, the prisoner was executed in the Killing Fields just outside Phnom Penh.

The museum is essentially the prison as it was the day it was abandoned. Chains, torture instruments and even bloodstains are still in their places. A few rooms showed image after image of all the prisoners the day they arrived at S-21. Out of the thousands that came in, only 7 prisoners were alive the day it was freed by the Vietnamese. One photo of a woman caught my eye. I took a picture of it with the reflection of the other photos just under her eye line. I found out later that her name was Bophana and she was killed for refusing to give up her love for her husband (in the time of the Khmer Rouge you must only love the Party). She is considered a Cambodian heroine.

Although I understood, intellectually, the outrageous crimes committed at this high school, I could not grasp it emotionally. I expected to feel completely deflated and depressed but I found myself confused and angry that most of the Khmer Rouge were never brought to justice. It wasn’t until a little later that day, when Simon and I were taking a break in the shade, that I saw a current high school with all the students coming and going. Aside from the barbed wire, S-21 looked exactly the same. My stomach hurt off and on for the next few days. Luckily, I was able to distract myself by hanging out with Sandra and Kim, two friends who I studied with in Toronto, who were also in Phnom Penh. It was nice to see some old familiar faces and catch up!

After forcing myself to face Cambodia’s sad history, it was time to indulge in their glorious past of Angkor. Simon and I took a bus to Siem Reap, a tourist town, and got a three-day pass to Angkor Wat. The bus came with a free tuk tuk driver to take us into Siem Reap. We were really excited to see ‘Yona and Simon’ printed on a piece of paper held by a driver. It was like arriving at an airport as a VIP!

We woke up at 6am and rented bicycles for our first day. Angkor Wat is about 8km north of Siem Reap so it was not time efficient to walk. We spent the entire day at Ankgor and got back to Siem Reap just as it became dark. Going around on a bicycle was wonderful. The small roads from temple to temple are lined with tall jungle trees and beautiful gates. It was very dream-like to pass by an ancient temple on a bicycle. The highlights of the first day were Angkor Wat itself, for its size and views from the top (T-shirt required), Bayon, for its huge faces looking in every direction, Preah Khan, for its many rooms, monastery, and library, and most of all, Ta Phrom, which has been overtaken by the jungle in a very beautiful and dramatic way. I adored this temple from the moment Jessie Inskip showed me pictures of it from her trip many years ago. I was so happy to see it myself!

Our bike ride back to Siem Reap was slightly pathetic. My knees were killing and Simon ended up pushing me the last 5km back to Siem Reap. Although embarrassing, it was absolutely hilarious. Simon biked beside me and with one hand on my back pushed me the whole way. I didn’t need to pedal at all!

We rented a tuk tuk our second day to visit some of the temples that are further away from Siem Reap. We started at Banteay Srei, which is about 25km north of Ankgor Wat. This temple was very small in height compared to the others but had such fine detailing in the carving. It was also a very red colour. Archeologists believe that only women, with their small hands, could have carved out these decorations. I completely agree with them. To me, this temple was not about the structure itself, but a series of walls to carve. While the other temples seemed to be created by architects, I thought artists created Banteay Srei. And on top of it all, who but women could pay so much attention to detail?

Next we saw Banteay Samre, which was Simon’s favourite in all. It looked a lot like a smaller version of Angkor Wat with fewer tourists. Outside the temple were a series of lion statues with holes in their butts. Apparently in the time of Angkor they would have had fire emerging from there. I’m not sure if this was meant to be intimidating or hilarious. We finished our tuk tuk tour at Pre Rup, which was essentially a series of reddish pyramids used for funeral ceremonies. I like the grass that was growing on the tops.

Our last day at Angkor Wat was spent on one bicycle. Yep, I was Simon’s precious cargo on the back of his bike. Locals travel like this a lot but I don’t think they often see tourists doing it. We got a lot of laughs and thumbs up throughout the day. We didn’t have much left to see on the third day, but Thommanon was a nice little temple we’d missed the first day.

Back in town I treated my feet to a fish massage. Basically you put your feet into a tub of little fish that eat off all your dirt and dead skin. It sounds disgusting, which I suppose it is, and tickled like hell the first few minutes. However, after 30 minutes my feet were much smoother and cleaner! Simon wants to buy some for his home so he can clean his feet as he watches football.

Leaving Siem Reap was an attraction in itself. Simon and I dished out the big bucks and took a boat across Tonle Sap Lake to Battambang. Aside from being slightly seasick on a lake (but it’s A LAKE!), the ride was beautiful. We passed by many floating villages that were truly floating in the middle of the lake. Kids and adults were happy to wave at us as we went by. Sometimes we’d stop and pick people up. It was worth the money to see these villages.

In Battambang we visited the Bamboo Train. It is explained perfectly in this BBC article, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/5110236.stm, but I will try to give you a shorter description. Basically people use very old warped train tracks, a bamboo platform and a small motor to transport people and goods around the countryside of Battambang. It reminded me of the old carts used to transport coal or gold from mines or a level in the Donkey Kong video game. Roni it is imperative that you watch this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGRwiHoTcwY. The train moves pretty fast. It felt like either a very laid back rollercoaster or a completely out of control train! I loved riding on it!

The best part by far was when you came head to head with another car going the opposite direction.

There is only one track – so if two trains meet, the one with the lightest load has to be taken off the rails so the other can pass. - BBC

It was amazing to see a cart loaded with people, wood and who knows what else come to a halt in front of us. I was so surprised to see our driver and another man take apart our car, remove it from the track, let the packed car pass and then reassemble it in minutes on the other side. It is really an ingenious mode of transportation!

After visiting some caves where the Khmer Rouge killed a bunch of people, which was not as interesting or fun as the Bamboo Train, Simon and I relaxed. We are not sure where we’ll head from here but I am sure the smiles and kindness of the Cambodians will continue.

As of now Cambodians are in my top three of nicest nationalities:

3. Cambodia

2. Rwanda

1. Turkey

Don’t ask me, I don’t give a damn

Next stop is Vietnam.

And it’s 5,6,7  Open up the pearly gates.

Well there ain’t no time to wonder why,

Whoopie! We’re all gonna die!

                           - Country Joe McDonald

This is a protest song from 1965, called ‘Feel Like I’m Fixing to Die’ by Country Joe McDonald. I’ve had it in my head a lot over the last few weeks. This may be due to the numerous history sites that Simon and I visited as we headed south. In university I wrote a short essay about Country Joe for a course I took on the Vietnam War. It was a truly terrible class and I learned next to nothing about the history of the war. Mostly we just watched movies, I seem to recall Mel Gibson being in a number of them, joy. However, it was an easy way to get a good grade. If you want to hear the song, here’s a video at Woodstock: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zdH09mWVF8

Before hitting the living war museum that is Southern Vietnam, Simon and I checked out Ninh Binh and its many water caves. Even in the rain, the caves, which take you underneath and through karsts (mountains) to various lagoons, were quite beautiful. Perhaps most impressive was the middle-aged woman who rowed us around in her small boat for about three hours. Strong lady!

From Ninh Binh we met up with Neal in Hue. This was the first site in which Vietnam’s history of seemingly constant war became apparent. Hue was the old capital of Vietnam and housed the Forbidden Purple City where the royal family (and many concubines and eunuchs) resided. I have no idea why it was called the Purple City, as most of the buildings I saw were yellow and red. Maybe the purple buildings were destroyed. Only a few buildings (less than a third) remain of the citadel. First the French shelled the Forbidden City in 1947 and stole all the treasures it contained, then the Americans further destroyed it and the city of Hue in 1968. It’s crazy to me that even before the Vietnam War, the Vietnamese had been at war with the French and before them the Japanese.

Next, the three of us went a little further south to Hoi An. This town is just a little bit south of Danang, where American soldiers used to relax on the beach. The first day there we were blessed with absolutely perfect weather. We took advantage of it and, like the US soldiers, had a wicked beach day on a completely deserted patch of sand, which we rode to on bicycles. It was great. The next day was raining heavily and I feel that some of the charm of Hoi An’s old town was lost. It’s hard to enjoy walking aimlessly when you are completely drenched. Honestly, my camera, in a camera case, in my bag, got so wet that there was water inside the lens…

After Hoi An, Simon and I decided to leave the tourist trail and check out the Ho Chi Minh Trail instead.  Although our bus ride from Danang to Kon Tum was much more comfortable than the conditions of the trail used by the Viet Cong, it was still cool to be on the route that the North used to supply their fighting in the South. Aside from the history, the region was absolutely beautiful. The fields, mountains and Dakbla River made Kon Tum a great place to walk around. The small city is surrounded by minority villages, which had some interesting huts and some of the friendliest kids I have seen in a long time. Clearly tourists are a rarity out here. In fact, while in most cities in Vietnam people are constantly asking you if you want a motorcycle taxi, Simon ended up walking for half an hour to the bus station because he could not find someone to give him a ride! Unfortunately, our time in Vietnam was running out and we had to leave Kon Tum much sooner than I would have liked. We got a great last meal there and then headed to the bus for an overnight ride to Dalat. I was a little (cough, cough) surprised when I saw that the bus was not a sleeper, as we had been told, but a standard minibus. I was further surprised when we arrived in Dalat at 3:30am rather than at 6:30am. Hmmm…

Lucky for us we found a hotel that was still open and managed to sleep in a bed for a little while. The next day in Dalat we took a break from war sites and visited the ‘Crazy House’, which was built by the Vietnamese architect Dang Viet Nga in 1990. Her house reminded me a lot of Gaudí’s La Pedrera with a splash of Alice in Wonderland. Needless to say, I loved it.

The weather in Dalat was very bizarre. It rained in the morning, cleared for a few hours around lunch, and then poured again in the evening. Because of this, Simon and I decided not to rent a motorcycle to see the countryside (not much fun in the rain) and just to wander around on foot through the forest. It wasn’t too bad, but I wished we could have stayed in Kon Tum instead. Neal met us in Dalat briefly and we ate together at a bakery that had become the highlight of Dalat for Simon and I. Their hamburgers (not beef) were incredible and the people working there were lovely. Simon even tried to kiss the woman who made the burgers but was rejected! Ha.

Due to lack of time, Simon and I left Dalat and rushed to Saigon to ensure that we’d have time to check out the Mekong Delta before our visas expired. In Saigon I bumped into Rachel who I met in the Vipassana course in India! It was so random and great to see her! She now lives in Saigon teaching English. It was nice to spend some time with her and reminisce about Vipassana and India.

Our first day in Saigon was actually outside of the city in Cu Chi were Vietnamese guerrillas of the town built an insane series of tunnels to fight the US soldiers. They also used terrible and cruel traps in the surrounding jungle. The tunnels were tiny, not for the claustrophobic. I went down one and found myself slightly panicked at how dark and cramped it was. At one point there was a fork in the tunnel and I thought I might take the wrong way and never get out! I cannot believe people actually lived, worked, and raised children underground here.

The traps were another story. Some of them were made of folding chairs and other household items. Most involved huge spikes and poison. No wonder so many Americans came home with PTSD.

After seeing evidence of the cruelty of the Vietnamese, it was time to see all the atrocities the Americans committed during the war at the War Remnants Museum in Saigon. There was a reconstruction of the prison cells used by the French and Americans to hold Vietnamese prisoners. The cells were tiny and often held many people together. Worse were the Tiger Cages, which were essentially boxes made of wire and held many people at once, I believe lying on top of each other.

Inside the museum there were many intense photos of the war. The one that struck me most was a photo of a US soldier holding up a piece of a Vietnamese man. He looked like road kill. I did not have my camera with me at the museum, but you can see the image I am speaking of here: http://images.artnet.com/images_US/magazine/features/saltz/saltz5-26-4.jpg

The images of the war did not stop at 1975, when the Vietnam War officially ended. Many photos were displayed of children born today who are affected by Agent Orange. Some of the disfigurations are horrible, while others, like cleft lip, I thought were displayed more because they look scary, though they are not severe issues. Most of the pictures were terrible. However it was uplifting to see a few examples of kids overcoming their disabilities. A few children born without arms learned to write and draw with their feet. Another woman about my age wrote a great letter to Obama asking that the US and chemical companies responsible for creating Agent Orange give compensation to those affected in Vietnam. While it is clear that the Americans committed crimes against humanity in Vietnam, the museum was not without its propaganda. The first floor only showed pictures of ‘the whole world’ protesting the war and supporting the Vietnamese. There was a picture from Ottawa, Canada!

Our last few days in Vietnam were spent floating in the Mekong Delta, away from the war sites, museums and imagery. In Vinh Long we got a boat for the day and checked out a floating market, and normal life in the Delta. It seems like a relaxing life, filled with hammocks, fruit and naps! I think I saw more hammocks in those few days than in the rest of my life combined. We got to taste some delicious coconut and ginger candies as well as some honey products. In Chau Doc, we could clearly see the flooded rice fields from atop Sam Mountain. In addition, we could see Cambodia just across the border. Our time in Vietnam was up, and it was time to head west to Cambodia!

Northern Vietnam has been a pleasant surprise. Before arriving I had heard a lot of mixed reports about traveling in this part of the country. I had been warned that people could be rude and hostile towards Westerners. However I have found the people to be generally pleasant and always willing to smile, a huge relief from the harsh faces in China!

Simon and I arrived in Hanoi and found the house of Catherine and Frederic, the parents of Simon’s friend who have lived in Hanoi for the past 10 or so years. They were nice enough to let us stay with them in their incredible house (complete with swimming pool!).

Outside of Catherine and Fredric’s place was not too bad either. Hanoi had a lot of character and delicious food. I think Simon was in heaven when he saw how popular baguettes and French pastries were. I wasn’t too upset about it either. For dinner Catherine and Frederic took us into the center of Hanoi on their motorbikes, by far the most popular mode of transport, to sample some Vietnamese food. It sure kicks Chinese food in the ass!

After exploring the old French buildings and the bizarre resting place of Ho Chi Minh, which is guarded by many men in all white uniforms who spend most of their time keeping you off the grass, we booked a trip to Halong Bay.

Halong Bay is a little like Yangshuo, China but in water. It is famous for its many karsts, which jut out of the water in a very dramatic way. We spent two days and one night on a nice boat floating around the karsts and watching the light change. I took about 300 photos! We also visited a large and strangely lit cave before kayaking to a beach for a short swim. I felt extremely lucky with the weather and had a great time there.

And now for a little biology tangent! Pearl jewelry was the thing to buy in Halong. Although I did not buy any, it was extremely cheap. You could get a pair of pearl earrings for about a dollar. The pearls weren’t fake but farmed in the bay. The clams are taken and injected with a small amount of sand. The sand colour determines the colour of the pearls. The clams are left for 2 years and then killed and eaten, leaving about 5 pearls on average. This is a lot of pearls! In the wild it would be rare for a clam to provide more than 1 pearl (if any). I thought this process was really cool and an excellent way to make some easy money. After all, the clams and the sand are free! I asked the jewelry salesman so many questions, I am sure he thought I’d be a great customer. Too bad for him I am just a biology nerd!

As soon as Simon and I returned to Hanoi we bought tickets to Sapa, which lies extremely close to the Chinese border. The region is famous for its rice fields and ‘minority peoples’. When we arrived it was pouring rain and I spent most of the day sleeping and reading. Simon couldn’t bear to stay inside and went for a walk. While out, he ran into a friend, Neal, who he had met in Mongolia. Together the three of us had dinner and spent the evening playing pool.

The next morning we all set out to go for a walk through the minority villages that surround Sapa. It had stopped raining and we hoped the weather would hold out for us. I hadn’t packed properly and left my raincoat and hiking boots in Hanoi. God, how I needed those boots.

The guys started the trek by taking a very muddy path off the main road to avoid paying the entrance fee for the region. I didn’t want to get muddy so I took the main road and talked my way out of paying I met up with Neal and Simon further down the road who was already covered in mud from a fall. This was not to be the last. While the rice terraces and surrounding hills were beautiful, I spent most of my time looking down desperately trying not to lose my balance. The paths were so slippery from the rain it took me ages to walk a meter. It didn’t help that most of the way was either uphill or downhill. Flat ground was definitely a rarity.

As we walked around the villages and noted the cool way they use the flowing water to pound their grains, we somehow fell off the main path. I was not very happy as we slowly continued forward on our own made-up trail. Neal and Simon fell a few times. I had one great fall in which both my legs shot up above me and I landed flat on my ass. My leg also managed to hook under Simon’s, who was ahead of me, allowing me to take him out with me. It took me a few minutes to get up because I was laughing so hard. However I wasn’t laughing when we had to hop across rocks to get over the river and then climb up the rice terraces to finally reach the main path. I was wet, cold and muddy. When we reached Ly Lao Chai village and had some lunch I felt better. We hadn’t walked nearly as far as we’d planned but it was already time to go back to Sapa. Dinner that night was well deserved… and so were the pastries that preceded and followed it!

The next day Simon and I did a cheap tour to Bac Ha to see the Sunday market. We didn’t know it was a tour until it was too late. After seeing the market, which was nice but nothing as colourful as those in India and Africa, we were taken to a tourist village and to the Chinese border. I couldn’t believe that the Chinese border was considered a tourist attraction! To make it worse I think Simon and I were the only ones not taking photos! Oh man.

We took a strange night bus, in which the seats are little beds in twos, back to Hanoi. I was glad I had Simon beside me rather than sleeping nearly in the same bed with a stranger! Tomorrow we’ll leave Hanoi for good and begin to go south. I hope the chocolate croissants and friendly people don’t disappear!

Simon and I left Dali and took a bus to Kunming. While attempting to buy bus tickets to go south to the Yuanyang rice terraces, I turned to Simon, completely exhausted and ‘over’ China and said ‘Er, I think they have rice in Vietnam!?’ He laughed and agreed to skip the region and go straight to Nanning to process our Vietnam visas.

While we waited for our visas, Simon and I went to Yangshuo to check out the karsts and the Li River. The karsts, which look like huge pillars of rock rather than mountains, make the region quite beautiful. The best way to explore the area was by bicycle. In the Routard, a French guidebook, Yangshuo was described as ‘poetry on a bicycle.’ I’m not sure if I would go so far, but it was a really nice way to spend the day. After pedaling through a few of the villages on a nice back road with little traffic, we climbed up Moon Hill to see the view. Not bad.

The next day we did the ultimate touristy activity and took a boat down the Li River. The weather wasn’t the best and I wised the trip had not been as long as it was. For some reason our boat, and all the other little boats, had to keep stopping along the way for twenty to thirty minute intervals because the police had assigned certain times when boats could pass through that section of the river. It was quite annoying. Once again I will write that I will never understand the Chinese mentality.

Yangshuo was a nice place but I was still eager to leave China behind. We got a really cheap train to the border town of PingXiang, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The windows opened, the scenery was great and there were empty seats! Imagine, free space in China! We were obviously close to Vietnam. In PingXiang people smiled and helped us read the Chinese menu. I think Simon and I were both pretty optimistic about what lay across the other side of the border.

I found myself continuously shaking my head in Sichuan. Chengdu was yet another massive Chinese city. The panda-breeding center felt like an over-priced zoo where guards pushed you along. Heaven forbid you look at the baby pandas for more than one minute! The area surrounding Chengdu is so polluted, I couldn’t help but wonder where, if ever, they’ll eventually try to reintroduce pandas into the wild. Leshan, a place famous for having the biggest Buddha in the world, was described in guidebooks as a small town. I was so disappointed to find that it was just another huge sprawl of a city so polluted that the sky was yellow and hazy. This made the Buddha underwhelming to say the least.

Despite the great Sichuan food, which so far has been the best in China, I decided to cut my time in the Chengdu region short and head west towards the border with Tibet. The only thing I was hoping for was blue skies. In Kangding I met up with Simon and Herve, two French guys I met in Mongolia while battling the crowds in the Chinese Embassy. They were on their way to Litang and I followed them there the next day.

The bus ride to Litang started off like a trip from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. That is to say it was awful. The bus left at 6:30am, which meant I had to be at the station while it was still completely dark. No one would help me find my bus, which is tough when you can’t read anything, and a fully-grown man tried to pickpocket me during the chaos. I yelled at him a lot and he ran away. Nobody even checked to see why I was yelling. Nobody cared at all. Slowly but surely the Chinese were winning the title of ‘worst people’ away from the Ethiopians.

Once I was on the bus things were a bit better. I checked my bag about a hundred times to be sure I still had everything. Luckily that guy was a shit pickpocket. Along the way to Litang the Chinese continued to confuse me. Nobody smiled for the entire 10-hour ride even when I smiled and made direct eye contact. People threw their plastic garbage out the window but dropped their biodegradable trash (like fruit peels) on the bus floor. Smokers would wait for the bus to stop to have a cigarette but would smoke them on the bus rather than outside (where the ash would not get all over my bag). Honestly, I will never understand the Chinese mentality.

In Litang things improved. At 4,000m above sea level the sky was finally blue again. The buildings looked a bit like those in Spiti, India, and I felt like I’d returned there as Simon, Herve and I explored the Tibetan monastery. The Tibetan people smiled at you and said hello as you walked by. One baby was particularly fond of playing with Simon’s beard. On our way to the hot springs just outside of town we did receive one ‘fuck you’ from a guy driving by in a car. I laughed and thought to myself ‘one more point for China over Ethiopia!’

From Litang we hitched a ride to Daocheng with a Chinese couple from Chengdu. The ride was nicer than the town itself. However, thanks to the guys and two Israeli girls named Ayelet and Moria, I spent most of my time outside of the town on a bicycle! I hadn’t been on a bike since I was about 13 and I was nervous to ride on the street with all the cars. But, as they say, you never forget, and I am so happy I forced myself to get over my fear. It was definitely the best way to spend my time in Daocheng.

The next day Herve, Simon and I headed to the crap town of Shangri-La. As the city is a tourist trap, the bus there was logically filled with Chinese tourists. It amused me how they took photos of everything including the patches of land where every tree had been cut down. The city of Shangri-La was a big disappointment. To me it appeared to be a Chinese city desperately trying to be in Nepal. They were even selling clothing with ‘Made in Nepal’ tags for about four times the price!

We left Shangri-La quickly and went to Lijiang, which turned out to be even more touristy. It felt like a Chinese Disneyland filed with annoying touts. At the Black Dragon Pool I am almost positive that a woman was leading us to be robbed by offering us cheap tickets into the park. Luckily we all decided that following her into a forest was not a good idea. At least Ethiopia has trained me to smell a scam from a mile away!

When the streets of old Lijiang were not packed, which was rare, it was a nice place to walk around. Aside from the lanterns, streams and alleys I also enjoyed seeing a Vans store with Hello Kitty holding a skateboard as well as a Playboy store selling outdoor equipment. Who would want hiking poles with the Playboy bunny logo anyways!?

Once we’d had enough in Lijiang, Simon and I took the bus to Dali while Herve decided to go back to France. Dali was a really nice town on the south west side of Er Hai Lake. The new town is located 15km south of the old town, which makes a huge difference.

After an amazing sleep in the biggest bunk bed ever, Simon and I rented bikes to go around the lake. I was worried about the many kilometers I was committing to, but Simon brought a tent in case I couldn’t get to the town with a guesthouse by nightfall. Luckily, my speed was fine and the biking was really enjoyable. Lake Er Hai is one of the few places I have seen in China that is not over polluted and people are still growing crops. The fields were a wicked yellow colour and the little towns along the way were great. We slept in Shuang Lang in a guesthouse right on the lake. I felt like I was home in cottage country watching the sun go down behind the mountains on the other side of the lake. I even explained the design of a Muskoka chair to Simon. However, I knew I was not in the Muskokas when I was given a piece of delicious mooncake to celebrate the Mid Autumn Festival. To be honest, I forced myself to stay awake to have a piece of mooncake. It was awesome and worth staying up for!

The ride the next day was the most beautiful although my ass was sore as hell. Luckily we were able to take a ferry across the lake and skip going through the airport and new city to get back to Dali. In total I biked 74km!

Back in Dali I have been treating myself to yummy food like apple pie with ice cream and even a Chinese pressure-point massage. It hurt like hell but I felt great afterwards. For the next few days Simon and I plan on staying in Dali and checking a few of the sites nearby. We passed a town called Xi Zhou on our bikes that looked nice so we’ll check that out as well as the Three Pagodas on bikes another day. Hopefully my butt won’t be bruised anymore!

Maybe it’s the weather. Or, it could be the fact that Chinese people seem to be unable to walk in a straight line without stopping right in front of you to stare at the sky. It could be the lack of hygiene or the constant smell wet garbage. Whatever the reason, I have not taken to China the way I thought I would…

It’s probably the weather. In fact as soon as I crossed the border from Mongolia on the Trans-Siberian Railroad into China the sky seemed to immediately cloud over into an almost yellow colour.  Unfortunately I have only seen a blue sky twice during my first two weeks in China. Interestingly, these have been the best two days I’ve had in the country. It must be the weather!

My first impressions of Beijing were pretty dismal. I found the people impossible to communicate with (even with my hands) and very rude. I had my taxi stolen about five times! Once I finally found a hostel things improved. I met Benny, a German guy who’d been on the same train from Ulaanbaatar. Together we braved the rain and visited the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square and the Summer Palace. All three sites were packed with Chinese tourists and slightly underwhelming.

But it wasn’t all bad! The day that Benny, an American named Adam, and I headed out of the city to the Jinshanling section of the Great Wall was blessed with perfect weather. The wall was not a disappointment! I really loved every minute of the four hours we spent walking along the top of it. Near Simatai the wall was really falling apart and incredibly beautiful. The mountains in the region were crazy. I can’t believe the Chinese built along the tops of some of them! Despite an asshole taxi driver who made us miss the last bus back to Beijing, resulting in a few hours in Miyun, it was a perfect day.

My favourite thing to do in Beijing was to wander through the Hutongs (alleys). I caught a few games of Mahjong in these small laneways and liked how the tablecloth had special pockets for the money the people were betting with. I also enjoyed seeing the little kids running around with large slits in their pants. This in effect replaces diapers. One small boy had a happy face on the bum of his pants. I found this especially funny with his butt crack in the middle. While wandering through the Hutongs I came across some nice parks and the Drum and Bell Towers, which I visited. The Drum Tower had a cool drumming demonstration and the Bell Tower included a free tea tasting.

My time in Beijing was short but I was ready to head off to Xi’an with Benny and a Finnish guy named Jussi. The three of us greatly miscalculated how long it would take us to reach the train station. Benny and I just made it while Jussi ended up buying a ticket for another train. He’s lucky he did. Our train was pretty awful. For 18 hours we were surrounded by people spitting on the floor, smoking (the windows did not open), and spitting bones and other food products on the floor. Basically, by the end it felt like we were sitting in a garbage can. We met three other Germans named Merlin, Rebecca and Mark, in the same car as us. When we finally got off the train we all found a hostel together. My ankles were very swollen since I could barely move them on the train and I was eager to relax, shower and return to normal.

Xi’an was both a pleasant surprise and a disappointment all rolled into one. I had gone to this city to see the famous Terracota Warriors. I thought that they looked better in documentaries than they did in reality. It was also hard to get a good look at them through the crowds of people.

Exploring the ancient city of Xi’an was much more fun. Jussi, Benny, Merlin, Mark, Rebecca and I ate to our hearts’ delight in the night market. I had my first mooncake and was immediately addicted. I also tried many rice and bean desserts as well as pheasant eggs cooked on a stick. Benny dared me to eat a bag of spice, which I did, for the small reward of 5 yuan. I used this money to buy yet another dessert!

While on my own I visited the Great Mosque. It was the first mosque I have ever seen with imagery of animals. I enjoyed the series of courtyards and the slightly blue sky that lasted about half an hour. I also wandered through the artists’ area and watched the old men write beautiful Chinese calligraphy.

When Benny and Jussi returned we visited a skateboard shop, which felt oddly like home, and walked through the city at night. The next day I said goodbye to the guys and took a night bus to Shanghai. The bus was much more comfortable than the train even though the beds were slightly too small for me! In China I am quite tall!

In Shanghai I met up with Sandra, who I met way back when in Jordan. She had recently moved to Shanghai to work as an English teacher. I was happy to see her again, eat sushi, and visit her awesome laneway home. Despite more rain I visited the Yuyuan Gardens with Merlin, Rebecca and Mark and had dim sum in a funny cafeteria. I checked out the view from the Bund on my own one night and checked out the nightlife with Rebecca another. The clubs seemed to be filled with gross old men hitting on young Chinese girls. One night was enough for me.

My last day in Shanghai was spent outside the city with Sandra and some of her friends in the water town of Zhujiajiao. We had good weather, ate yummy food and went for a little boat ride. The town was like a Chinese Venice. I was happy to be out of Shanghai. As a tourist there is not a lot to do in the city except shop. The next day I took a train west to Chengdu in the Sichuan province. I had heard that people from the south were nicer than the Northern Chinese. From my experience on the train I am hopeful that this is true. I had a great time on the train playing with little kids and talking with whomever. I am hoping my Chinese experience is about to improve!

I’ve tried to start this entry a few times but I just can’t seem to write about Mongolia. It’s odd to write about a place in which emptiness is its greatest attraction. It was especially odd to leave the techno-savvy, superficial culture of South Korea to arrive in a country where most people are still nomadic.

Ulaanbaatar is a bit easier to describe than the rest of the country that I visited. I was lucky enough to stay with two Aussie girls, Liz and Erin, who work in the city. They also had a friend, Malcolm, visiting from home so I spent a lot of time sightseeing with him. UB, as most people call it, was a strange city that seemed to be stuck in the time of Soviet rule. The buildings are unimaginative blocks and Soviet memorials still stand. However, just to mix things up, the State Department Store would often play Dr Dre and carried brands I haven’t seen since leaving Canada. The city also had a nightlife that reminded me of Addis Ababa in Ethiopia.

My first experience in the Mongolian countryside was with Malcolm in the Khentii area. It was really amazing how empty and beautiful the land becomes only minutes after leaving the city. Only three hours outside of UB I was in a completely different world. We stayed in the steppe with a Mongolian family in their ger, a Mongolian yurt. I really loved the gers and how they fit into the scenery all over the country.

The family, like most Mongolians, made their income off cattle (and tourism I suppose). They had loads of cows, goats and horses. The father took Mal and I horseback riding without even asking me if I’d ever been on a horse (I had once when I was 15). With no helmet and no instruction, we were galloping home when the rains started again. I never felt as integrated in the Mongolian way of life as I did on a horse. Perhaps this is why I loved it so much.

After a few annoying days stuck in UB trying to sort out my Chinese visa and find people to travel with, I caved and joined a tour going to the Gobi Desert for 8 days. Despite hating tours I had a great time. The other 9 people in the group were fantastic (3 Danes, 2 Dutch, 2 Russians, 1 Hungarian, 1 Spaniard).

In two old Russian vans we drove most of the eight days listening to the same cassettes over and over. The tapes consisted of 80’s pop tunes, crap modern pop like Katy Perry and Rihanna, and Mongolian folk songs. Ilona bought one tape with a Queen song on it which the vans fought over to no end!

Aside from listening to crap music, the driving was great. Central Mongolia, with its many horses and cows, disappeared and was replaced by the camels and emptiness of the Gobi. In Mandalgov we caught a day of the Nadaam festival in which we saw horse racing, archery and wrestling.

The best part about the Gobi, after the two-humped camels of course, was the ever-changing landscape. The desert was at times a colourful sea of red, orange and purple rock, green flat grassland, a strip of sand dunes, a green gorge with a flowing creek, and a red canyon. It was by far the most diverse desert I have ever visited.

Back in UB I met Sarah, Bettina (both Swiss), Jason (USA) and Ben (Welsh) and decided to join them for some camping in Terelj National Park. I am sad I have no photos of them.  Despite some rain and one tent with no poles we had a good 5 days relaxing by the super cold river. I have to say it felt a lot like summertime at home.

For my last day in Mongolia Sarah, Bettina and I went horseback riding just outside of UB. I was happy to be in a ger one more time and in a way to end my time in Mongolia just as I had started it. I was more confident on the horse this time. I think I will have the image of the steppe blurring by me as my horse galloped at full speed with no one in front of me forever. Though I could hear Sarah yelling just behind me

It’s been a while, time for some Top Fives:

Mongolian Moments:

5. Chasing antelopes in a van and having the antelopes win

4. Listening to Jimi Hendrix in the sun while looking at the dunes in Khongoryn Els

3. Playing basketball with the teenaged kids in Khentii

2. People watching at the Nadaam Festival in Mandalgov

1. Jumping out of the van in the Gobi and chasing a herd of camels on foot

Only in Mongolia:

5. Chinggis Khan is spelled correctly (rather than Genghis Khan)

4. Non-white Neo Nazis roam the capital city and attack foreigners

3. Horse-riding jockeys are so young they celebrate a race with a cola and an ice cream (they are as young as 4 or 5)

2. Archery is a big fucking deal

1. Rather than using a bicycle, kids ride their horses over to their neighbours to play basketball with their friends

Mongolia Badass:

5. Even the milk can be alcoholic (Airag- fermented mare’s milk)

4. Break dancing in the club ‘til morning

3. Mohawks are a must

2. The men roll their shirts up past their nipples at all times

1. Neck tattoos are outrageously popular

Feels like Canada:

5. Jagged rocks and conifer trees fill the landscape in Khentii

4. Large lakes are a big attraction

3. Camping and lazing in the sun in Terelj National Park

2. A small minority of people lives in Teepees

1. Canoeing down a river in Khentii

Cheese and Milk Tasted (number 1 is most disgusting)

4. Cow Milk and Cheese

3. Goat Milk and Cheese

2. Camel Milk and Cheese

1. Horse Milk (Airag)

Music

5. Mongolian Folk songs

4. Baby- Justin Bieber

3. The Show Must Go On- Queen (don’t steal the tape!)

2. Midnight Lady- Chris Norman (I think)

1. You’re My Heart, You’re My Soul – Modern Talking

Mongolian Surprises:

5. I can milk a camel!

4. I can survive eating mutton and milk products (ew)

3. Five people can sleep in a three person tent

2. Chasing camels on foot is more fun than riding them

1. Tents need poles!

Who knew Mongolians Loved:

5. The Russians

4. Volleyball

3. Windmills

2. 80’s Pop Music

1. Basketball

p.s. Please note some of these photos were taken by the very talented Lena and Andrea! Thanks girls, my mom appreciates the photos of me!

Twelve random days in Korea, South Korea of course. What a bizarre country! It is so clean but you rarely see a garbage can, people are shopping constantly and can’t be without television even on the metro. Thank god for the iphone! Women wear their shorts and skirts so short I can’t help but stare and yet they won’t show their shoulders. Men and women wear glasses with no lenses to either cover the fact that they didn’t have time to put on makeup or to ‘make their faces seem smaller’. Photos of Korean pop stars cover pairs of socks and the peace sign has been taken to a whole new level. The Korean people were lovely and incredibly honest and I enjoyed my short detour in their adorably odd home.

Korea, well what I saw, really is strangely cute. Looking back on my photos I realized that a majority of them are of bizarre signs and advertisements for restaurants and shops. Everything has a cartoon logo. A restaurant selling seafood will advertise with an adorable cartoon squid. I find it weird that this should make you want to eat the poor little guy, but of course I did.

The food in Korea was incredible. Despite not eating Korean BBQ, no beef or pork for me, the seafood and fish were a fantastic change from Indian and Nepali rice and daal. Anytime you order a meal in a Korean restaurant you also get a whole bunch of little appetizers such as kimchi. They too are delicious and spicy. The raw fish in Busan was great and incredibly fresh. You pick your fish alive. I also found an all-you-can-eat sushi pace in Seoul that I visited twice. To top it all off I found great desserts. I had ice cream at least once a day. I will admit it was often ‘Jamoca Almond Fudge’ from Baskin Robbins, but I also indulged in melon flavored ice cream bars from convenient stores. One of the best desserts I had was with a Korean friend of Elyse’s named Hayley in Seoul on Samcheongdong-gil. We had the most delicate, cute (of course), rice cakes you can imagine in the most adorable cafe where they even give you blankets to wrap up in. Another goodie was called kkultarae, the traditional dessert of the Korean royalty, which is made from some honey-like taffy wrapped around a filling (I got almond). The best part about it was watching the guys in Insadong making it and showing you how the taffy starts as a hard rock and then is stretched into many fine strands. Every time they said ‘wow’ (which sounded a bit more like ‘Uhaoo’) at their own work I couldn’t help but smile.

The history of Korea is not so cute and seems to be dominated by war. Unfortunately almost every temple and palace was destroyed by either the Mongols or the Japanese. Many have been rebuilt. I suppose because a lot of the rebuilding happened at the same, most of the temples look almost identical. The Changdeok Palace in Seoul was nice and had a beautiful ‘secret garden’ in the back where the king would go to either mediate or get drunk with his closest friends. Like the temples I saw later in Gyeongju, the palace buildings where made up of red pillars and intricately carved green roofs that flip up slightly at the edges. The carvings reminded me a bit of the style I saw in Spiti Valley. Luckily, a small region of Seoul called Hanok Village still exists of traditional Korean houses. It was a very photogenic area!

Gyeongju is considered the cultural heart of the ancient Silla kingdom. Aside from Buddhist temples and pagodas, which look nothing like the pagodas in Nepal, there were also many tombs that look like bizarre grassy hills. I found the pagodas disappointing, they look like miniature temples, but I really liked walking through the hilly tombs. There was one you could enter which was also interesting though all the gold was now kept in the Gyeongju Museum.

I really enjoyed the few museums and small art galleries that I visited in Korea. In Insadong, Seoul, the road is lined with small galleries showing the work of just a few artists. It felt really nice to look at art again. Hayley took me to an awesome museum located near the Gyeongbok Palace underneath the large statue of King Sejong. The museum was about how King Sejong invented Hangeul, the Korean alphabet. Until then Korean was only a spoken language and the elite learned to write in Chinese characters. What I loved about Hangeul was how each letter is based on how your mouth and tongue move to create the sound of that letter. It was such a scientific and visual way of creating an alphabet! Of course I loved it! There were even BMC-esque diagrams to help you understand. I was so enthralled I even learned to read a bit of Korean and Hayley taught me to write my name. Good fun!

The second half of the museum was a bit more bizarre. It was about Yi Sun-sin, a naval commander famous for defeating the Japanese even when he was outnumbered 333 Japanese boats to 13 Korean boats. We watched a 4D movie about this battle in which the seats move, you wear 3D glasses and water and cold air are sprayed at you as the waves crash up against the boat. It was pretty cool. After the movie there were some kids games where you essentially kill Japanese by shooting down their boats. Although a fun game, it felt a bit weird to be thinking ‘die Japanese, die!’ However, most Koreans still harbour a lot of hatred for the Japanese  so I suppose it wouldn’t seem as weird to them to have their children thinking these things.

The museum in Gyeongju was more traditional. It housed a lot of the gold found in the tombs as well as a lot of Buddhist art from the temples. It was a very pretty museum and I like the array of Buddhas.

Although I met a lot of Koreans taking their vacation from university in Seoul to visit the temples of Gyeongju, I’d say that shopping is the most popular activity in Korea. The big cities of Seoul and Busan, which lies on the southern coast, are swimming in stores and markets. In Seoul I visited Dongdaemun and Namdaemun markets. They sell anything you can imagine. For example in Dongdaemun there is a lace district. An entire region dedicated to selling lace! I also saw a fur district and a belt district. Aside from the markets there are loads of high end shops throughout the cities. I have never seen so many glasses shops in my life. However, I did manage to buy a new pair of glasses! Korea seems to be a pretty vain country. If you are going to do something you must look the part. Everyone is constantly checking themselves out in mirrors and reapplying makeup. If you are hiking you must be dressed in the most high end hiking gear there is. Women are always in heals, even on the beach in Busan! Parts of Seoul seem to be dedicated to plastic surgery and the advertisements for boob jobs and jawline reconstruction are very prominent. I found this side of Korea a bit sad.

At night the cities really come alive, especially in Hongdae, Seoul, where my guesthouse was located. The area is filled with bars of all varieties. There are so many people about you forget what time it is. I really wish I’d met more travelers in Korea as going out alone is not really an option. I did get a chance to see a bit of Seoul night life, but Busan was left a mystery to me. There aren’t a lot of backpackers in Korea and I can understand why. It’s expensive and there isn’t too much to see. Most foreigners I met were either passing through or visiting a friend here who is teaching English. There are loads of foreigners here teaching English. Some of them seem like nice, normal people, while others seem to be infatuated with finding a Korean girlfriend.

All in all I enjoyed Korea. Although it was a lonely 12 days, I found myself often laughing at some sign, outfit, or product. I definitely had some culture shock coming from Nepal and I’ve been in awe of how technologically forward everything is. But most of all I think Korea will always be synonymous with ‘adorably odd’.

Chris and I returned from our ‘hardcore’ trek and chilled out in Pokhara for a few days. I spent most of my time eating apple pie and trying to figure out a flight to Mongolia. While the apple pie was a huge success, the flights were taking time, so we decided to head east to a small Newari town called Bandipur.

I feel that at another time of year Bandipur’s greatest attraction would be the Himalayan views contrasted against the traditional brick architecture.  However, this being monsoon season, the mountains remained hidden beyond the clouds leaving only a cute town perched on a cliff with a few temples among the hills.

I continued to be surprised at how tropical Nepal could be. While looking down on the maize fields and palms, I thought I could pass off a photo from Bandipur as almost anywhere in Africa. The buildings, of course, are entirely different. At night a power outage allowed Chris and I to look for shooting stars. I saw one. Chris did not. He has never seen one in his life!

The next day we endured the long bus ride to Kathmandu. While stationary the bus got so hot I had sweat dripping down my face and back. Chris bought us ice cream cones in the hopes of a cool treat. Unfortunately it tasted like super cold yak milk and was pretty disgusting. I ate mine regardless but Chris decided to down his in one huge bite. I laughed so loud I think the entire bus took notice. Chris got one hell of a brain freeze.

I was looking forward to seeing the big city of Nepal. Chris and I met up with Magali and went through old Kathmandu to Durbar Square. I liked the contrast in old Kathmandu between the old temples and the new shiny billboards. Shops were overflowing with copper items and Thangka paintings. It was nice to see a bit of chaos, but it was calm in comparison with India.

Durbar Square was once the palace of the city’s Kings. The architecture is really beautiful and looks like the child of a Newari brick house with a Japanese temple. My favourite part of the square was watching the kids running into the large group of pigeons. It was almost like being at Notre Dame in Paris. Chris’ highlight was watching a woman pray at a shrine of a God and then slowly remove a monetary note left by another devotee.

After a nice lunch on a rooftop overlooking Durbar Square, Chris and I left Magali and walked back to Thamel. A few wrong turns led us to a main street completely flooded by the afternoon rains. Monsoon is cool.

The next day Chris and I took a taxi to Swayambhunath, more popularly known as the Monkey Temple. The temple lies on a hill on the west side of Kathmandu and is centered around a great stupa with the eyes of Buddha. In the past when I would think of Nepal I would think of these eyes. I was pretty excited to see them! The walk up the hill propagated my suspense. The monkeys and statues of Buddha were nice but I wanted to see those giant eyes! When I finally reached the top of that steep hill I was not disappointed. The stupa was beautiful, the eyes were intense, and the surrounding monasteries gave me my first view of monks in prayer. The monks wore odd pointed hats and used bizarre instruments like huge horns made of silver. I loved how many monks had a Coca Cola or a Sprite by their prayer book.

While I took about a hundred photos of the stupa, Chris entertained himself by throwing coins into the pond dedicated to world peace. There’s a pot in the middle of the pond that you can aim for. My one attempt was pathetic, Chris got close.

Our afternoon, like much of our time in Kathmandu, was spent in Thamel, an intense tourist playground just north of old Kathmandu. Every inch of space is covered in signs for trekking, laundry, restaurants, hotels, souvenirs and internet. I have never been offered drugs so many times in my life! When it rained Chris and I would hide in our room and watch movies. To be honest most of my best memories of Nepal take place inside while it was raining. As Chris said, with good company you can be in a shoebox and still have a good time. I was happy in our shoebox.

The next day we headed off to Patan, a quiet suburb of Kathmandu that was once its own city. It has its own Durbar Square, which was just as nice as Kathmandu’s but calmer. My favourite part of Patan was the small courtyards that you can fall into while wandering through the streets. I fell in love with one courtyard that had such a variety of buildings it took me ages to take it all in. I could have stayed there for hours.

That evening Durbar Square was covered by dark storm clouds. Chris and I were lucky enough to be on a rooftop with awesome views. I got some great photos and saw some lightning in the distance.

Our second day in Patan was an odd one. We decided to go to the zoo to see the 60 cm squirrels. It must have been a public holiday because the place was packed with people. Families were having picnics on every inch of grass and pushing and shoving seemed to be the only way to see an animal. There were also some crappy rides like the ones they used to have at the Ex. We never saw the 60 cm squirrels, but we did see a Rhino’s penis, which was not only huge but also very strange looking.

When we left the zoo the streets were being guarded by riot police and young Nepalese Scouts were being used as human ropes to keep people out of certain areas. They were surrounding a bizarre tower that looked like it had nearly collapsed.  I don’t think I’ll ever know what the hell was happening there.

Back in Kathmandu I sorted out my flights. The most direct way to Mongolia was to stop in Seoul, Korea, so I randomly decided to visit Korea for two weeks. Chris on the other hand was heading to Bangkok and then hopefully Burma. It rained a lot but Chris and I were happy as ever watching movies in our shoebox.

The weather cooperated the day we visited the village of Bodhnath, home to one of the world’s largest stupas. It was really incredible. I think I enjoyed it even more than the Monkey Temple. As we arrived hundreds of people, mostly Tibetans I think, were walking clockwise around the huge stupa. Buttermilk candles and monasteries, as well as tourist cafes and souvenir shops, surrounded the stupa and back alleys. Seeing the sunset behind the stupa was just beautiful.

My last day in Nepal was fairly uneventful. It was July 3^rd and I’d left Canada exactly one year ago. I insisted that we eat deep fried apple momos with vanilla ice cream, which I think is an excellent addition to the momo family. And now, I am sitting in the airport awaiting my flight to Seoul. Chris left this morning and I miss him already. Traveling is a beautiful thing but goodbyes never seem to get easier. I hope I get to see him again. And now, because I love lists, I present another Top 5.

Top 5 Things I Miss (Already!) about Chris:

5) Being called ‘Yona babez’ by a straight guy

4) Book shopping for hours

3) Animal quizzes

2) Guff

1) Impressions, especially of ‘best mate Bob’

xoxo

The journey from Delhi to Kathmandu was easy and I enjoyed resting in the air-conditioned Delhi airport. I was still pretty sick and a bit worried about flying but everything was fine. I arrived in Kathmandu and got a ticket to Pokhara. For some reason I was unable to buy a flight ticket before I landed in Nepal.

The flight to Pokhara was a bit messier. The airplane was tiny and there were only four passengers on board. It was cloudy and a bit rainy, which meant that the mountains were hidden from view and the turbulence was immense and consistent. Just before landing my body gave in and I was forced to use the ‘vomit bag’. Ugh.

When I arrived in Pokhara I went immediately to the Butterfly Lodge where Magali was staying. I met Magali in Vipassana and I thought it would be great to see a familiar face. Ironically, I was given a bed right above hers.

Magali was not around when I arrived but some other people were in the dorm. Chris (English) had spent a few months in Ghana volunteering and we spent a while talking about Africa, volunteering, and all that ‘happy’ stuff.

I spent most of my time in Pokhara relaxing and taking the rest of my antibiotics. Magali and I spent a day in Old Pokhara and I got lucky one evening when the clouds parted and I could see the Himalaya beyond the lake.

When I finished my medicine and felt human again Chris and I decided to head north into the Annapurna Circuit for a small hike. To save time, and energy, we took the bus all the way up to Jomsom and trekked a bit from there. The ride to Jomsom was wet and green. I was happy to be in a car rather than walking in rain. I was surprised how tropical the vegetation was. I had imagined Nepal’s forests to look more like Canada’s. In my mind there were no palm trees in Nepal. Oops!

Jomsom lies along the northern edge of the Annapurna Circuit and is much drier. I chose to go to this region in the hopes of avoiding rain. Jomsom itself was not very exciting and the architecture reminded me of the Spiti Valley.

From Jomsom we walked to Kagbeni, a small village that lies on the border with Northern Mustang. I was really excited to see this area, as posters of Mustang were almost as popular as posters of Tibet in Spiti. Mustang is called the Forbidden Kingdom and was only opened to tourists in 1991. Unfortunately for me you have to get a permit costing 700 USD to enter Upper Mustang. As I was not prepared to do this, Kagbeni would be the closest I’d get to the Forbidden Kingdom.

In the end I found Kagbeni to be a lot like Spiti. The architecture, lifestyle and culture seemed very similar. I can’t imagine Upper Mustang being too different. I enjoyed Kagbeni but felt that I had been there before. The Yak Donalds restaurant, serving yak burgers and other yak specials, was unique.

The next day we walked further uphill to Muktinath, a pilgrimage site for both Hindus and Buddhists. The walk was really nice and the big mountains to the south emerged in the early afternoon. It is so weird and annoying how those mountains can be completely hidden by clouds. If I hadn’t looked at a map I would be certain that no 8,000m peaks loomed just beyond the hills!

Muktinath was an interesting place. I enjoyed seeing the Indian Sadhus who would once walk all the way from Southern India to this site. The Sadhus I met from Bangalore flew to Nepal and then took a jeep to Muktinath. Like me, they are cheater trekkers! Nonetheless, they still asked me for money. I gave them each a Canadian penny, worth about 70 rupee cents. They asked how much it was worth and Chris said each coin was about 100 rupees. They seemed very pleased. They will be horribly disappointed.

We returned to Kagbeni the same day and decided to test our luck with the rain and walk down the western part of the Annapurna Circuit. The short walk to Jomsom was hellish with dusk and wind. We decided to cheat once again and take a bus out of the dry dusty landscape to Ghasa. From Ghasa we walked through the green hills swimming in clouds to Tatopani. This walk was really nice though a bit humid and hot. We didn’t get rained on though! When I got tired Chris carried my bag as well as his. I am truly the worst trekker ever!

From Tatopani we took a bus back to Pokhara. It is now raining here everyday, which makes movie watching a big activity. My time in Nepal has been very laid back and relaxing so far. My trek in the Annapurna was truly sloth-like but I loved every minute of it! I’ll leave Everest Base Camp to the more serious trekkers

After an eventful, somewhat boring, definitely hot, day in Delhi I caught a train to Amritsar to visit the Sikh Golden Temple. Strangely, this was my first solo train ride. After Manu and I split ways I had been taking buses exclusively. I hoped it would be straightforward. Despite a few mislabels on the platforms at the station I managed to get on the correct train.

I had a window seat and listened to music most of the way. A really funny family sat around me and I watched them all torment the youngest boy who was about ten years old. He could hold his own, which is why I think the older boys, one of which I later learned was my age, toyed with him so much. The mother was really sweet and asked me a lot of questions in Hindi. Luckily her sons could translate for me. The train left an hour late and continued to fall behind schedule. The guy my age told me that I would not arrive in Amritsar until midnight rather than the scheduled time of
9pm. He said if I wanted I could get off two stations early and stay with them. Such a nice family! All that said, I stayed on the train. There was a cool lightning storm to keep me entertained.

When I arrived in Amristar it was just past 11pm and the free shuttle to the temple was no longer running. I asked an older man if he knew about the free shuttle to the temple. He said he was from Delhi but his friend was a local and would take care of me. So before I knew it I was in a man’s car getting a free ride to the temple. He also dropped me right at the door where foreigners can sleep at the temple for free. Once again, I’d met an incredibly nice person.

The Golden Temple is the holiest site for the Sikhs. It is an incredible place with a unique view on religion and inclusion. Although it’s a popular spot for tourists, the Golden Temple is above all a pilgrimage site. Rooms in the temple complex house pilgrims, and tourists, for free and free meals are provided in the community dining room. Amazingly, all, not just Sikh pilgrims, are welcome to the free accommodation and meals.

Although I arrived in the temple around midnight the place was alive with hundreds
of people going about their business. I got a bed (free of course) in a dorm made
only for foreigners. Outside were countless Indians sleeping in the foyer on the floor.
The bathrooms were some of the cleanest I have seen in India.

The next day I got up, discovered some mysterious insect bites like the ones I had in Ethiopia, and went immediately to eat in the Guru‐Ka‐Langar, the community‐dining hall. Above the entrance it said something about God being the farm and the farmer and that all are welcome to his fruit. Apparently all Sikh temples provide free meals to all as a sign of unity among people of all religions, creeds and nationalities. The Guru‐Ka‐Langar feeds up to 40,000 people a day! I really loved it. Everyone working there is a volunteer and you can see loads of people washing plates, cutting
vegetables and making chapatis as you go inside. When you have collected your plate and spoon, you are ushered into a large hall where everyone sits on the floor and is served a basic Indian meal. I sat beside a lawyer from Delhi and his wife while a woman who seemed much poorer sat across from me. I loved how we all ate as equals. Sikhism is really on to something in that respect.

The Sikhs are easy to spot all over India. Their religion requires them (the men) to wear a turban and a silver bracelet at all times. They do not cut their hair and are generally the only Indians with beards except for Sadhus! Also they are required to carry a spear, sword or dagger. This I find very strange. Most of the men carry daggers that are decorated with mirrors and jewels. It was funny to walk through the bazaars of Amritsar and see all the shops selling bracelets and daggers. It seems like an odd combination!

After breakfast I washed my feet before entering the temple itself. In the middle of a large pool is the golden Hari Mandir Sahib. All around this building is a courtyard of white marble. The pool is called the Pool of Nectar, ‘Amrit Sarovar’, and gives Amritsar its name. Similar to the Ganges River, the pool water is considered holy water and many pilgrims take baths there. It really is a beautiful site. I think it can easily compete with the Taj Mahal in its peacefulness and grace.

After waiting in the incredibly long line to enter the Hari Mandir Sahib, I realized that the chanting coming out of the speakers all over the temple complex is not a recording but the live chanting of four priests. I wonder if they ever get tired. One thing I did find a bit strange was the blue large screen hanging in one of the corners of the courtyard showing the words to prayers as though you were at a karaoke bar. I wish they’d take it down or make it more discreet. Oh well, I avoided capturing it in my photos

After I spent about 2 hours wandering around the temple and taking way too many identical photos, I left the temple complex to explore the old city of Amritsar. I ate some lunch and then found myself in Jallianwala Bagh, a small park commemorating 2,000 Indians who were either killed or wounded during the massacre in 1919. On April 13, 1919 a group of men, women and children were peacefully protesting English rule in this park, which only had one entrance, when General Dyer and his men opened fire without warning. Apparently the general wanted to make an example of the protesters. You can still see bullet marks in the walls and a well that people leapt into to avoid the gunfire. I also checked out the small museum attached to the park, which gives more information on Amritsar during this time. No surprises; the British were pretty awful. One section of the museum explained how English soldiers made Indians crawl on their bellies down certain streets and administered public floggings. I believe Gandhi used the massacre in 1919 as a way to attempt to bring Muslim, Hindu and Sikh Indians together. I’m glad I randomly found this memorial!

I returned to the Golden Temple in the evening, with two British girls I’d met in the dorm, to watch the sunset and see the temple at night. It was not a disappointment. The silhouettes of the pilgrims against the brightly lit temple were postcard perfect. Many Indian tourists approached us for a photo. Sometimes it felt like they were more interested in us foreigners than the temple!

The next day I failed miserably at trying to wake up at dawn to watch the sunrise over the temple. Apparently 6:30am is much much much too late! I decided I’d try again tomorrow before my train back to Delhi.

In the afternoon I took a shared taxi to the Pakistani border to see a ceremony conducted here every evening at 6pm. I had been told it was very over the top and funny. I have to say it was the biggest waste of time I have experienced in India! We arrived hours early for no apparent reason, as there is a section of seats reserved for foreigners. I found myself engulfed in the crowd of Indians, which was being bullied by border police on horses. The way that they were intimidating the crowd was idiotic. One Indian woman was so afraid of the horse that she grabbed my arm and dug her nails in as hard as she could.

Finally we got our seats, in the hot sun with no shade, and the ceremony began about one hour later. The ceremony was essentially watching each ridiculously dressed border guard march up to the gate with Pakistan and do two high kicks. This ‘dance’ is also performed on the Pakistani side. The Indian guards wore red and beige while the Pakistani guards wore black or dark green. And that was it! I still can’t believe that this is a tourist attraction!

The most interesting thing about the border was seeing the difference between the Indian and Pakistani audiences. The Indian crowd was made up mostly of families and was very brightly coloured. The Pakistani men and women were separated. The men wore mostly beige and the women were really varied. Some wore black hijabs while others wore fairly conservative colourful saris. Aside from that the border ceremony was a real let down. It also ate up five hours of my day!

I returned to the temple and rushed to have one last meal at the community‐dining hall. I almost wished I hadn’t. I was sitting beside two idiotic young Indian guys who spent the meal staring at me and making jokes. Eventually I turned to them and asked, in my most school teacher‐like voice, if they had a problem. They looked so scared, like primary school students, to have been caught and the shook their heads no with a lot of energy. They quickly left after that.

The next morning I successfully woke up at quarter to five and watched the sunrise over the temple. The dawn was incredible. I couldn’t believe there was still a long line to enter the temple at this time of day. It was great to watch the deep blue sky of dawn slowly turn orange as the sun rose. It was a wonderful was to start the day. Unfortunately it was all downhill from here.

After a few more unnecessary photos of the temple I got on the free shuttle to the train station. About one hour into the ride back to Delhi I started to feel some cramps in my stomach. After a little diarrhea the pain really began. Despite being trapped on a train while sick there was a silver lining. The people around me were so nice. They moved so I could lie down, they gave me medicine, and they even called a doctor on their cell phone. One really amazing couple even offered to take me to a hospital if I got off to stations before Delhi with them. I decided it was better for me to get to Delhi and go see a doctor there. I figured the chances were higher of finding a doctor who spoke English in Delhi than a smaller town.

After hours of pain I finally arrived in Delhi and everyone on the train made sure I got off as easily as I could. One man carried my big pack for me. After asking the tourist bureau for help, I took a rickshaw to the hospital they’d written down for me. The hospital was nice and the doctor spoke English. I was seen right away which was wonderful because I think I’d reached my limit. It’s one thing to get ill when you are with someone but when you’re alone the stress is much higher. I had no phone credit, for example, and no way of getting any. I was lucky that my mom just decided to call so I could tell her what was happening.

I spent one night in the hospital. I slept a lot and ate plain rice. When the antibiotics kicked in I started to feel better. I laughed a little to myself when I realized this as the first time on this trip that I had visited a hospital for me. I have to say the experience was exponentially better than when I went to visit Elyse or Andrea in KCMC in Tanzania. I am glad that if I had to get sick it was in India.

The next morning I fought to be discharged. Manu had called and told me that hospitals here tend to keep patients longer than necessary just to make more money. Indeed, when I got my bill it was much higher than they’d told me the day before and I found a lot of errors in it. All that aside, I was feeling better which was the most important thing.

I took a rickshaw to the main bazaar and got a much nicer room than I normally do. Tomorrow I need to get my passport from the Mongolian Embassy and see if I can fly to Nepal rather than suffer through the train and bus rides. After all this I feel like I need a bit of relaxation!

Despite experiencing bed bugs and food poisoning in Amritsar I am so happy I went there for my last city in India. The balance between the beauty of the temple and the rush of the streets, the history of British rule and the compassion of the people really summed up India for me.

Now if only my arms, legs and back could stop itching and my stomach could settle…

After surviving Vipassana I was happy to relax in Dharamkot and enjoy some Western comforts. Mostly, I am talking about food. I ate a lifetime’s supply of muesli, yoghurt and fruit as well as a few pizzas and pastas. I had planned on leaving McLeod Ganj immediately after Vipassana ended but Dharamkot proved itself to be a bit of a black hole. I found myself thinking of Mombasa and how long it took me, Ira and Chris to finally leave. Much like the ‘Mombasa Black Hole’ I was enjoying my time in Dharamkot. I got to know a few of the people who did Vipassana with me and I also reconnected with a few people I had met before my 10 days of being a hermit. Jules, an English guy I’d met before, broke his foot in a motorcycle accident in Kashmir while I was in Vipassana and was back in Dharamkot recovering before he flew home. Total insanity. Motorcycles are crazy creations.

While walking in McLeod Ganj, probably eating momos, I ran into Matiaz (er, I can’t spell his name), an Argentinean guy Manu and I had met way back in Mumbai. I recognized him right away but it took him a little while due to my hair. He’d also just finished Vipassana and I couldn’t believe he’d been there the whole time and I’d never noticed. What was even stranger was that Matiaz was now staying in the same hostel as me and his room was beside mine. Matiaz was sharing a room with an Italian guy named Davide who’d also been in Vipassana. Davide and I spent a day exploring the less touristy town of Dharamsala. It was nice to see Tibetan and Hindi written on the walls and to be in a place where no one was catering to me or other tourists. After talking about our plans for the next few weeks, Davide and I decided we’d go to Spiti and Kinnaur Valley together. I was really happy to have the company.

After five days in Dharamkot I finally left my black hole and got on a bus south to Shimla. The ride was a long ten hours and I realized that I was out of practice with Indian transport after my three week ‘vacation’ in McLeod Ganj. Davide and I arrived in Shimla at night and found that every hostel was incredibly expensive and often run by rude people. We finally found an overpriced crappy room and promised each other that we’d leave this shithole hill station the next day.

The next morning we got up and got tickets to go to Rekong Peo, the main town in the Kinnaur Valley. Unfortunately the bus was a night bus so we had to spend a day touring Shimla. The British established the town and its architecture reminded me of something like an Indian Switzerland. It seemed to be a very popular spot for Indian tourists. It wasn’t a bad place to spend a day but I was eager to get to Kinnaur Valley.

Kinnaur Valley is the southern gateway to Spiti Valley. Manu had told me that Spiti is his favourite place in India. This alone warranted a visit. Despite the northern and more direct route from McLeod Ganj being closed, I was happy to put in the time to explore Kinnaur in order to eventually get to Spiti. Aside from Manu’s endorsement, Spiti and Kinnaur Valley interested me as they lie along the Tibetan border among the Himalaya. While Kinnaur is a slightly forested valley, Spiti is a barren mountainous desert. According to the guidebooks, Spiti is one of the least populated areas on Earth. The fact that such a desolate place is a part of India only confirms that India is truly a living paradox. I absolutely had to go there!

The bus to Rekong Peo was packed with people. Luckily Davide and I got seats and Davide let me sleep on his lap. This was not only good for sleeping but also a good way to avoid looking out the window and seeing the condition of the road we were driving on. We were often at least a thousand meters above the valley floor twisting our way along the mountains with no barrier to prevent us from falling. Davide said that with the moonlight he could see the situation perfectly. Yikes.

Rekong Peo was our first taste of Kinnaur Valley and the huge snowcapped mountains that envelope it. It was hard to believe that nearly every peak I could see was taller than Kilimanjaro. Fuck!

The mountains were amazing but so were the shawls and hats worn by the people. The hats are shaped like a fez with a green piece of material in the front. With everyone wearing this hat it looked the entire town was part of a club.

Davide and I got our permits allowing us to travel near the Tibetan border and headed to Nako the next day. The ride was supposed to be five hours but ended up being more like seven or eight. At first we were held up by some kind of traffic jam. Then later, outside the town of Pooh (yea, Pooh) the road was blocked by some kind of religious celebration. It looked like the people were celebrating outside a Shiva temple but they were carrying some large wooly item that I had never seen before. It’s possible that we witnessed some kind of mix between Hindu and Buddhist culture but I’m not positive. The bus continued to snake along the Hindustan-Tibet Highway with the raging Sutlej River in the valley below. If the bus fell off the road we’d either die during the fall or drown in the water. It was best not to look. Instead I tried to focus my attention on the mountains where the snow melted and temporary waterfalls gushed and evaporated before hitting the road or valley floor. These little waterfalls were dotted all over the mountain slopes. I wish I could have photographed them. Unfortunately I was too nauseous, squished and paralyzed with fear to move!

My fear only increased as we came head to head with a truck that nearly fell off the road as it tried to backup to let us pass. With one wheel hanging off the road we were stuck for over an hour as we waited for a crane to come and pull the truck to safety. In the meantime the wind was visibly swaying the truck, which Davide was convinced would fall and a few small rocks fell from above. I could not wait to move on. I sat and read ‘High Fidelity’ to distract myself. Davide on the other hand went outside to take photos.

We finally arrived in Nako at 8pm instead of 5pm. Nako is a small village extremely close to the Tibetan border. Luckily it was easy to find a guesthouse and warm up before passing out. The village was on a small hill in the valley and sits at over 3,000m high. It was damn cold at night!

The next morning I awoke to find that we were facing patches of fields surrounded by amazing mountains. Davide and I took our cameras and explored the white washed houses of the village. It was truly one of the most beautiful places I have seen. The houses were stunning with thick log roofs. Some houses had ladders up to the roof and I enjoyed jumping from roof to roof and taking in the whole scene.

In addition to the architecture and landscape, the Buddhist influence made Nako seem like a dream. Prayer flags danced in the wind on nearly every rooftop and small prayer wheels were hidden in many corners. Rocks with mantras written on them were piled high in some places. I wish I could have understood what they meant. Someone in Kaza later told me that they were probably prayers and well wishes. One of the most amazing things I found in Nako was a small passage, like a bridge, running across the street. I had to duck a bit to get through it. Inside the pass were a few prayer wheels that caught my attention. I stood there for about five minutes wondering what I was standing in when I looked up and saw incredible paintings of Buddhist deities decorating the wooden ‘ceiling’ of the pass. I couldn’t believe that these paintings were just sitting here and that I’d nearly walked by them. I’m not sure if it was a Gompa or a Stupa or something else entirely. I found another one a few blocks away with equally beautiful paintings.  I wish I knew more about Tibetan Buddhist culture so I knew exactly what I was looking at!

A large square with a monastery sits at the edge of Nako. I lay down on the wall of the square and faced the mountains on the other side of the valley. After a few minutes a bunch of school kids emerged and began digging just below the wall. They explained that they were planting a tree for school. The kids had the most beautiful faces. They were not quite Indian or Tibetan but an incredible mix. I was blown away. All the girls wore their hair in two tucked up braids, which only made them more beautiful.

After a chowmein lunch I left Davide and wandered outside of Nako to the fields. I walked around the small lake, which was not very interesting, and decided to climb up the hill to get a view of the town and its surroundings. The top of the hill was covered in prayer flags and very windy. I realized that the danger of wandering around alone in this part of the world is not other people, like in Tanzania, but the speed in which the weather can change!

Just before sunset I went for another walk through Nako. It was great to see all the kids playing in the square by the monastery. I loved seeing the boys playing cricket. It reminded me that I was still in fact in India.

The next day Davide and I decided to walk uphill in the eastern direction to see if we could ‘reach Tibet’. It was a nice walk with great views of Nako and the pea and barley fields. Once we reached the top of the hill, with a few stupas and rock towers, we decided we’d officially reached Tibet and that we could now continue to Tabo. I do think the mountains behind us were in fact on the Tibet side of the border!

After one last walk through Nako, during which I took a lot of portraits, Davide and I got on a packed bus to Tabo. We were standing as though we were on a subway in rush hour while driving along the hairpin turns located on cliffs at least 500m up. At points it looked like I was looking out an airplane window rather than a bus. After a few checkpoints for tourists a nice man let me share his seat. I must say the people in this part of India were amazingly nice to me.

We got to Tabo, our official first stop in the Spiti Valley, and relaxed. I tried Tibetan butter tea which tasted more like a savory soup than tea but it wasn’t too bad. Sleeping was good.

Davide and I woke up unusually early (for me) and watched the sun slowly make its way over the mountains and hit the valley. I was thankful for the warmth. A little later we headed to the Tabo Monastery, which is a series of Buddhist temples made of clay, I think, from the 9^th and 10^th century. Needless to say they were amazing. The temples were quite dark inside which gave them an interesting atmosphere. Only small skylights lit the rooms which were covered in paintings and statues. It was also really beautiful to see people praying inside the temples. Their movements while praying are very active. It is almost like watching someone do yoga.

After some delicious Spitian food I thought it would be a good idea to walk up the barren slope in my sandals to check out the caves where monks used to live. Genius. I think Davide was ready to abandon me. He was not impressed. I did get up there though and the views were awesome as per usual. The weather was perfect and I felt like I could have spent the entire day up there. But instead I got on a packed bus once again and felt nauseous all the way to Kaza. When I arrived there I was very grumpy and very unhappy while looking for a room. I was reminded of all the times I felt this way in Ethiopia and how Ira loved ‘grumpy Yona after a bus’. Eventually I decided to splurge on a room with running water and Davide stayed elsewhere. I have to admit it was a bit awkward.

Kaza is the heart of Spiti and the only place we found with internet. The town itself is not much but the surroundings are great. I walked at the base of the valley along the Spiti River and visited the Kaza Monastery which was only built a few years ago. It’s amazing how that building can be so beautiful even though it is decorated in the most ridiculous colour palette imaginable.

One day in Kaza was enough for me so the next day Davide and I got a shared taxi to Kibber, which claims to be the highest village in Asia with a motor road and electricity. The drive was superb. We saw Ki Gompa as we drove past the village of Ki and I was so excited to visit it later on. The village of Kibber, at 4,200m, is stunning. I love the architecture in this area with the white walls and colourful window trimmings. Even when it rained in Kibber our first night I was still taken by the beauty of the place. I was crossing my fingers for a clear sky the next day.

I guess crossing your fingers and toes really works because I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day the following morning. Davide and I went for a walk up to about 5,000m where we could see the entire valley, Kibber and Ki Gompa all at once. It was amazing and exhausting. I could definitely feel the altitude. Only 1,000 more meters and I’d have been up Kilimanjaro!

Back in Kibber we watched all the sheep, yaks and goats return from the fields and file into their stall in the backs of houses in the village. We ended the day with dinner (momos!) cooked by our host. I must say, he made awesome momos!

The owner of our guesthouse told us that the next day we could catch the cable car going over the gorge and go visit the next village. We tried this but the cable car was not being operated by anyone. It was also just a cart on a wire which looked awfully sketchy. I was glad I didn’t have to decide whether I had the guts to take it. So we missed the other village but began to walk to Ki Gompa. The walk was brilliant. The rock formations we’d passed in the car were now photographable! Yea! Luckily Davide takes as many pictures as me so we walked at the same pace. When we turned a corner and saw Ki Gompa perched on its hill in the middle of the valley I nearly died it was so beautiful. Inside was nice too. There was some strange skull ornamentation that I wish I understood.

After visiting the gompa and taking a ton of photos of the bright green fields surrounding the village of Ki, Davide and I decided to continue walking back to Kaza. We didn’t realize it was 11km away. Luckily the breeze was nice and after 7km a guy gave us a ride on his motorcycle. I thought of how me, Manu and Ayelet used to ride all three of us to Kili Kids. This ride was slightly nicer

After sleeping in Kaza, Davide and I spent the day on the bus leaving the beauty of Spiti and Kinnaur behind us and returning to Rekong Peo. After sleeping in Rekong Peo Davide and I spilt up and I headed to Kalpa, a village just above Rekong Peo for my last night in Kinnaur. I was sad not to have Davide with me but I think he needed to be on his own. We hadn’t said goodbye properly and I was hoping I’d see him so I could amend the situation. Luckily I not only got to see the beautiful stone houses of Kalpa but I also got to have breakfast the next day with Davide and we said goodbye properly as I got on the bus to Delhi.

So here I am, back in Delhi, trying to juggle getting my Mongolian visa, visiting Amritsar and getting to Nepal all in the next week. I am already feeling a bit stressed by it. I miss the relaxed nature in the mountains and I am eager to return to that vibe in Nepal. Although I am busy, I miss Davide. Traveling alone is never as much fun for me.

Manu and I parted ways and I endured an eventful night bus to the Himalayan town of McLeod Ganj, home of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile. My first impression of the town was not overly positive. It seemed to be catering more to tourists than to Tibetans or Indians. Aside from the beautiful faces of the Tibetans, the street side momos (Tibetan vegetable dumplings) and the Buddhist Temple in the middle of the town I felt like I could be anywhere on Earth. At times I felt that there were more tourists in the town than locals. Considering that most people who work in McLeod Ganj probably live in the city of Dharamsala down the hill this is probably true.

I spent my first day in McLeod Ganj wandering around with a friend named Adam that I had met in Varanasi. Unfortunately he was leaving that night but it was nice to have one day with company. We went to the Dalai Lama’s residence and the two temples in the complex.  The artwork inside was very interesting and beautiful. I really enjoyed seeing gods that were monstrous creatures with three eyes and fangs! Dude, Buddhism is cool!

Beside the temples, which are not much to look at from the outside, is the small but very informative Tibetan Museum. I realized how little I knew about Tibet. For starters, I had no idea how big it was and how rich it was in natural resources. It’s no wonder China wanted it.

We spent the rest of the day by the small Bagsu waterfall, which flows down from the snowcapped mountains above. After some yummy Tibetan thukpa (noodle soup) for dinner I said goodbye to Adam and went to bed.  I had five days before my Vipassana course started and I was feeling a little stuck in a tourist trap.

The next two days I spent in McLeod Ganj are a bit of a blur. I walked through the town and the neighbouring villages of Bagsu and Dharamkot. I found the people, both local and foreign, to be generally unfriendly. However the views of the snowcapped mountains towering over the town were wonderful. I decided to leave the town of McLeod behind and spend the next three days in Dharamkot, a small village further up the hill adjacent to the Vipassana center.

My days in Dharamkot were a little more exciting. It’s a very small village, essentially one street, so the people recognize you easily and start to warm up. While sitting at a café I bumped into Laura, one of the Dutch girls Manu and I had met in Jodhpur. Her friend Charlie was also around. It was nice to see a familiar face. I spent a day wandering around the hill of Dharamkot, which is covered in Buddhist prayer flags. I think the strings of flags are quite beautiful, especially with the mountain views behind them.

I later met several other people, including a fellow Canadian from Saskatchewan, and the six of us (me, 2 Dutch girls, Canadian, French, British) tried to catch the monks debating at the temple. This was never successful but we did sample many different momos around town.

The next morning I walked the three hours uphill to Triund with the Canadian and French guys. Triund is a campsite at the top of a foothill with extremely cool views of the mountains. The hike was good and not overly difficult. I am glad we left early as the clouds were beginning to envelope the mountains shortly after we arrived at the top.

Eventually the Dutch girls went on to Manali and the Canadian and French guys moved on to Kashmir. It was now time for me to face the Vipassana course, something that excited and terrified me beyond words.

The Vipassana course is a 10-day intensive course in an ancient meditation technique. During these 10 days I was not allowed to communicate in any way with the other students. This included speaking, gesturing and even eye contact. In addition, I was not to read, write or listen to music. This is difficult at the best of times but nearly impossible when sharing a tiny room.

In addition to remaining silent, the course schedule was extremely grueling. Every day we woke up at 4am and meditated for two hours. Then we had breakfast and an hour break. This was followed by three more hours of meditating before lunch. After lunch, at 1pm, we had a four-hour meditation session before our tea break. We were not given dinner, only tea and a light snack. After tea we had another hour mediation followed by an hour discourse and then another half hour of meditating before we finally got to go to bed at 9pm. In one day we spent over ten hours meditating. Yikes.

It should also be noted that this type of mediation is not relaxing. The core of it, in my opinion, was to sit as still as you possibly could for as long as you could and run through your body feeling all the slightest sensations that are occurring at that moment. If you felt pain somewhere, which I almost always did, you were not to abhor it. Instead you must recognize its impermanence and remain as indifferent as possible.  The same would go for a pleasant sensation, which I never experienced. Without rambling about this for too long I will just say that to me the process was attempting to train your mind not to crave and not to abhor and to realize the impermanent nature of life. Easy right?  Pfff…

I am glad that I was able to make it through to the end of the course. I would be lying if I said I did not contemplate leaving almost every single day. Days 1 to 6 were particularly rough. On Day 3 I saw a girl literally hug a tree and I thought I was in a nuthouse. While I did not enjoy the experience I definitely learned a lot and I think I will try to continue to practice Vipassana to see if it helps me in the future.

All that said, it hurt like hell.

On Day 10 after morning meditation we were allowed to break our silence and finally get to talk to each other. It was so strange to sit beside the same people for ten hours a day without speaking. In some weird way I felt like I knew them well. Of course I didn’t really. I think everyone felt this way because we were all so open with each other almost immediately. Talking with my roommate Eva (from Hungary) was particularly nice as I had shared a room with her and meditated beside her. She was so wonderful. I hope to see her in Budapest one day!

The course didn’t officially end until Day 11 after breakfast. I intentionally ate a little breakfast to save room for the Nutella banana pancake that I knew was waiting for me in Dharamkot. After eating more food (muesli, fruit, yoghurt and honey followed by momos) Eva left for Delhi to catch her flight home. It’s too bad she couldn’t stay longer. I shared a room with another I met from Vipassana named Rachel. While walking around McLeod I bumped into a guy from Argentina named Matiez (sorry if I spelled that wrong) who Manu I had met way back in Mumbai. He had been in Vipassana too! How funny. A lot of people from Vipassana were hanging around in the village and it was so nice to be constantly chatting and laughing.

The next day I went down to Dharamsala with another Vipassana student named Davide (from Italy). It was really nice to see the town where people are living their lives without completely catering to tourism. Signs were once again in Hindi and Tibetan and we were the only tourists in sight. There was nothing specific to see but I really enjoyed myself. However when it came to walking uphill I really felt the effect that sitting still for the last ten days had had on my body.

The following morning Rachel and many other Vipassana folks headed to Triund for a night. I decided not to go there again and to stay in town and relax. I am glad I did as I ran into a friend Loup (French) who I had met before the Vipassana course. We spent the day chatting and switching from English to French. It was good fun and totally relaxing.

Now I am waiting for Davide to return from Triund so that we can begin the long journey to Spiti Valley together. McLeod Ganj wasn’t the scene I expected but in the end it really grew on me. It was a good place to relax and after Vipassana that was exactly what I needed.

The train from Khajuraho to Varanasi had more tourists on it than I’d ever seen on public transport in India. Usually I am the only white person!

We arrived in Varanasi and checked into the Shanti Guesthouse. The place was cheap and filled with the new age hippies that only seem to travel in India. In some ways the specific culture of the typical ‘India tourist’ interests me just as much as Indian culture itself. It amuses me that so many people seem to come to India, get dreadlocks, smoke hash all day and talk about how spiritual they are. It also irritates me when they say how horrible it is to see anything ‘Western’ in India. Anyways, these people seemed to dominate the rooftop of our hostel. As with the rest of Varanasi, it was good for people watching.

The obvious attraction of Varanasi is watching the unique culture that exists along the ghats of the holy Ganges River. The ghats are a series of steps leading into the Ganges. Most are used for bathing. Narrow alleys filled with fresh cow shit, swarms of flies and the cows themselves dominated the way from our hostel to the water. If cows were not holy in India I think the country would be a different place. The streets would be so clean!

The first ghat we saw was the Manikarnika Ghat, which is the main ‘burning ghat’. It is here where many bodies are cremated before their ashes are scattered into the river. There are several ‘burning ghats’ along the Ganges River but this one is the biggest and most prestigious place to be cremated in India. Logs of different types of wood used for cremation surround Manikarnika Ghat. Apparently sandalwood is the most expensive and highly regarded wood. Who knew?

As I walked down the steps to the ghat I could feel the extra heat emanating from the many fires. The unique smell of incense and dead bodies filled the air. Surprisingly the incense does a good job in hiding the smell of death. Strangely there are many men hanging about this ghat drinking chai and chatting. Despite the cremation that is taking place, I would not want to hang out there all day due to the extra heat!

It was over 40 degrees Celsius in Varanasi, which has been the case almost everywhere in India, but additionally very humid. This awful weather made most hours of the day useless for seeing the city.

Once the heat had died down Manu and I headed to the main ghat, Dasaswamedh, to watch the ganga aarti ceremony. This ghat has amazing potential for people watching and really seemed to encompass the contradictions that I see everyday in India. While one man was simultaneously talking on his cell phone and praying by the water’s edge, a woman beside him dumped her trash, including the plastic bag used to transport the garbage, into the Ganges. Meanwhile, Muslim women wearing burkas waited patiently for the Hindu ceremony to begin while pushy Indian tourists shoved their cameras into the faces of people praying. Finally, Brahmins and Sadhus weaved through the crowds blessing people with a bit of paint and then demanding large sums of money. This of course was all secondary to the fact that such a spiritual place was filled with the yells of touts, pushy salesmen, garbage and shit.

Despite the filth, the river became quite beautiful as the evening set in. Many pilgrims buy little plates of flowers with a singe lit candle and offer it to the river after they pray. The result is a very lovely scene in which the river resembles a dark sky with many floating stars.

After the people had made their offerings to the Ganges, the puja, or prayer ceremony (which includes the aarti) began. Five Brahmins performed the puja facing the river while surrounded by hundreds of people. Somehow Manu and I found a spot with a great view. The ceremony began with singing and clapping. I found it funny to see all the people clapping in unison. It seemed like the prayer ceremony was a bit like a show or a children’s concert. The singing stopped for the aarti, in which a large blazing lamp is circled around each Brahmin to the beat of drums and Sanskrit mantras. It is a prayer to the river and to Shiva, who created the Ganges from his hair. It was a beautiful ceremony and a great way to end my first day in Varanasi.

The next morning Manu and I went for a walk at dawn. As we passed the ‘burning ghat’ we saw women wailing while other people sat around and drank chai as usual. As we walked along the ghats we watched people washing their clothes and bathing in the river. Some people were even brushing their teeth with the water. These people must have insane immune systems as the river, despite being holy, is filled with garbage, shit, dead animals and of course dead people. Even the sewage system empties into the Ganges. It’s crazy that some people consider it an honour to swim in a river that I wouldn’t dare dip a toe into.  Perhaps I am just uptight! Although Manu wouldn’t touch the water either

The Sadhus are everywhere in Varanasi and really fun to watch. One Sadhu blessed himself with his cell phone before restyling his hair. I managed to catch this moment with my camera and I have to say it’s my favourite picture from Varanasi.

From 9am until about 8pm it’s too hot to do anything. Well, almost anything. I went to a fancy hotel and paid to use their swimming pool for the afternoon. It was great. On our way there Manu and I saw many funeral processions in which about six men carried the deceased wrapped in yellow, red and orange clothe down to the burning ghat.

The next morning we went for a boat ride at sunrise. We didn’t see anything that we hadn’t seen on our walk the morning before but I did learn some interesting facts from our guide. Apparently children, pregnant women, Sadhus and lepers are considered holy and thus are put directly into the Ganges without being cremated. I have no idea why lepers are holy. I also learned that the people who deal with cremation become extremely wealthy by collecting the jewelry from the ashes. As we watched a young boy use a magnet on a string to collect money from the river our guide told us he used to do the same thing.

We got off the boat and walked until Assi Ghat. Surprisingly, we saw two tourists bathing! What brave souls! At Harishchandra Ghat we saw a body burning in the fire with a man pushing the leg to get it to burn properly. This body smelled, I don’t think they used much incense. It’s interesting to me how only men of the lowest caste can work at the burning ghats considering how important a job it is. When I thought about it for a while I realized it is similar to how we view garbage men at home. Their job is not sought after or considered prestigious, but what they do is important and everyone appreciates how clean their city is.  This is especially true in Toronto after that awful garbage strike!

That night the heat of Varanasi caught up with itself and a thunderstorm raged for about an hour. You could almost feel the relief of the land to be cooled off.

Our last day in Varanasi was uneventful. Manu and I tried to go for a walk at midday to see what Varanasi is like in the heat. We realized that not only are the tourists hiding from the heat, but so are the locals, the Sadhus and even the cows! It was like a ghost town. I would have loved to explore the city of Varanasi more but the heat really prevented it. It was time to leave and head to the big bad city of New Delhi, a place I had only heard bad things about.

The train to Delhi was a standard overnight journey and Delhi itself looked like a standard Indian city. However the people were quite pleasant and much less rude than in Agra. The men still stared at me but more often they were looking at my face rather than my boobs. How thoughtful!

Most of my time in Delhi was spent doing errands like buying new headphones and talking to the Mongolian embassy. In between such exciting activities Manu and I visited the Jama Masjid and the Lotus Temple. We also went to a see a crappy Bollywood movie from the 80’s at a cheap cinema. Best of all was visiting a real shopping mall! It had AC and everything. To make my mall experience complete I had Chinese food in the food court and a cinnabon. Yea, they had Cinnabon! However, the toilets still did not have toilet paper in them. Ah, the little differences.

My best moment in Delhi was while riding the metro. A young man had been pushing me and trying to bud his way onto the train. I was complaining about this to Manu in French in front of everyone on the train. One middle-aged man knew what I was saying by my tone and hand gestures, and began to tell off the young man in Hindi. Manu was able to translate for me. The older man said that what the young man had done was wrong. The young man said he didn’t do anything. The older man said he saw him and that these actions will give visitors a bad view of Indians. The young man said this didn’t matter. The older man said of course it does. I thanked the older man and said ‘wow’ about a hundred times afterwards. I don’t think someone would stick up for someone else like that in Toronto. I was so impressed. I think Manu was too.

Tomorrow I leave Manu and head to McLeod Ganj on my own. It will be so different to travel in India without Manu. In addition to missing his company I will also miss the ability to understand people speaking in Hindi.

I will leave you with a few examples that I could not have appreciated without Manu:

1. When a tourist asked for soy sauce the waiter yelled to a kid in Hindi to ‘get the black sauce’.
2. With her feet dipped into the pool below the Lotus Temple a little girl told her father it was ‘just like the Ganges’.
3. A little boy forgot about begging for money when he saw me and asked in Hindi why ‘I had the same hair as him’. He continued with ‘Why don’t you have big hair?’
4. I asked a boy in Khajuraho if his bicycle had a name. He replied ‘Aandha Kanoon,’ which means ‘The Law is Blind’.

I will miss you Manu! xoxo

Part I: A Birthday

Manu and I left the desert and happily saw green vegetation again in Agra. Agra is home to the Taj Mahal, which we figured would be as good as any activity to see on my 27th birthday.

As we were saving the Taj for my birthday, we thought we’d spend our first day in Fatehpur Sikri, a lost city about an hour outside of Agra. However the combination of extreme heat and slow buses proved to be too much for us. After waiting at the bus station for over half and hour in over 40 degrees Celsius, Manu declared himself spent and said that as a birthday present he’d get us a taxi there tomorrow after visiting the Taj Mahal. I think this was as much a present to himself as it was to me! Agra is so hot, polluted, and muggy, it becomes impossible to function. In addition, the city of Agra is very dirty and the people are awful. They all scream at each other, spit, burp, fart, scratch their crotches and stare at your chest constantly. The irony that the Taj Mahal is surrounded by such an environment is too great to quantify!

The next day was my birthday. I am happy to be an odd age again (because I am weird and prefer odd numbers). Manu and I got up early, and headed to the Taj Mahal in our taxi for the day! Our driver was very nice and kept giving us tips on how to enter the Taj and who to avoid. Basically, we were to avoid everyone.

There was a lot of security to enter the Taj and Manu was turned away because he had his laptop with him. This was really upsetting for me because it meant I wouldn’t get to share my experience with him. So I entered the Taj alone and quickly told off a would-be-guide for following me. Clearly I was a little frustrated!

My first view of the Taj was incredible and I was moved despite my bad mood. I slowly walked down the path, alongside the slightly dirty fountains, and removed my shoes to enter the building. The inside is not as beautiful as the outside but it is about 10 degrees cooler and the cold marble feels amazing on your feet! There is not much inside except for the tomb of the woman for whom the Taj was built. She was the second wife of Shah Jahan and she died delivering their 14th child. Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a monument of his love for her. I can’t help but wonder how his first wife must have felt!

As I walked out of the Taj I spotted Manu who had stored his laptop in ‘our’ taxi and come inside. I was so excited to see him! We revisited the inside of the Taj and then took about a hundred pictures of ourselves in front of it. I am proud to say that even after 10 years of not dancing I still managed to do a decent jump in front of the Taj without killing myself! Haha.

While leaving the Taj Mahal I kept turning back to get one more glimpse of it. It was the perfect place to turn 27. I am so lucky.

We left the Taj and drove out to the ghost city of Fatehpur Sikri. For a short period of time (1571-1585) this site was the capital of the Mughal Empire but was deserted due to water shortages. Along the way I watched the passing villages and wondered why anyone would prefer to live in Agra when they could live in the rural areas of India. Of course, I know that employment opportunities in the cities have a lot to do with it but still, the countryside is so much nicer.

When we arrived in Fatehpur Sikri touts bombarded us. These jerks really know how to ruin an experience and that day they were really getting under my skin. I can only handle people following me quoting prices for things I don’t want for so long. After a while I would rudely tell them to get lost. Manu on the other hand has infinite patience and can enjoy himself despite someone yelling garbage in his ear.  I don’t know how he does it.

We passed through the enormous 54m-high gate to enter a courtyard which houses the mosque called the Jama Masjid. I can’t say I enjoyed the mosque or the courtyard due to the persistent hassle from the touts and children. They were even bothering me inside the tiny mosque! I think Manu and I were regretting spending the time and money to get to such a disappointment.

As we sat on the steps of the main gate we were approached by a few more touts and kids demanding sweets and pens. I somehow returned to my ‘Africa state of mind’ and demanded equally silly things from the kids. Clearly tourists in India don’t do this much as the kids would stare at in me in bewilderment before slowly backing away. Even adult Indians sitting close by were staring at me like I was nuts. Whatever, it got my point across!

We were about to leave when we noticed the palace of the ghost city. Unlike the mosque you had to pay to enter the castle grounds, which meant that no touts or annoying kids could go inside. This alone made the palace worth visiting. Everything was made of typical red sandstone, clearly the building material of choice in ancient India, but the architecture was a bit of mixed bag. Parts seemed Hindi, parts seemed Arab or Persian and parts seemed to be reminiscent of China or Japan. I’m glad we didn’t miss this part of Fatehpur Sikri. It was definitely the highlight.

Back in Agra we had a pretty dismal meal. Possibly the worst we’ve had in India so far. Agra is supposedly known for its food but we were unlucky. We decided my birthday meal would have to be postponed! Perhaps our next stop, Khajuraho, would have better food.

Our train to Khajuraho wasn’t until 11pm the next day so we had an entire day to kill in Agra. Joy. We decided to go to the Agra Fort even though we both knew it would be a lot like the other red sandstone forts dotting northern India. On our way inside Manu was stopped because he had his laptop. He decided to sit outside and let me visit the fort on my own.

I found that when Manu was not with me the male Indians, most of them tourists themselves, became much more daring. I heard a lot of catcalls and the perverted stares increased dramatically. Some weirdoes even put out their arms as I walked by them. I am not sure if they were hoping I would just walk into them or what. Either way thank god for headphones! Once I was mentally checked out I could concentrate on the fort and ignore the Indian perverts more easily.

I wandered to a part of the fort where a Bollywood movie was being filmed. There was a huge crowd of Indians but not much was actually happening. I think some of them must have stayed there all day waiting to see if any movie stars would show up.  I shared my headphones with a little girl and then continued through the fort.

Most of the fort was exactly what I thought it would be. However Shah Jahan’s section was white marble instead of red sandstone. The decorations in this section were similar to the Taj Mahal.

After visiting the fort Manu and I spent the rest of the day trying to beat the heat without spending too much money. We played many games of cribbage. When the time finally came it took us about 30 minutes to find a tuk tuk driver who was not trying to overcharge us to get to the train station. I was definitely looking forward to leaving Agra. I told Manu that I thought that the reason the Taj Mahal seems so beautiful and peaceful is because it’s surrounded by such a shitty city. He agreed.

Part II: An Outburst

The train to Khajuraho was an easy one and we arrived in the town early in the morning. We could tell right away that Khajuraho was much nicer and more relaxed than Agra. Although Khajuraho has very famous temples, it is out of the way and fewer tourists seem to visit. It was a good start.

After a small nap we headed to the Eastern group of temples. This group is not the most famous but contains some nice Jain temples. They were very pretty but nothing worth getting too excited over after visiting Ranakpur. I think it would be hard to be blown away by a Jain temple after having seen Ranakpur.

Lunch on the other hand was something worth noting. We had amazing Italian pizza! Yum! I cannot begin to describe how much I have wanted pizza. For dinner I skipped the meal and went straight to dessert; a waffle with vanilla ice cream.  Delicious! Hello makeup birthday meals! And yes, I am aware I pluralized birthday meals!

The next day we woke up early to visit the Western group of temples before the sun got too hot. The Western group contains the most famous temples in Khajuraho and we could see the beautiful grounds in which they sit from our hotel. It looked awesome.

On our way inside we hit an obstacle, namely another asshole. The price of entry differs for foreigners and Indian citizens. While I had to pay 250 rupees to enter the site Manu only needed to pay 20 rupees.  However the ticket salesman disagreed. Because Manu does not dress and talk like a ‘normal’ Indian the man at the ticket counter did not believe he was an Indian citizen. The fact that Manu was with me only increased his suspicion. This happens often to Manu so he carries his passport to ensure he gets the right fare. When Manu showed his passport to this man it did not seem to prove anything. The man asked Manu where he lives and Manu responded ‘Pune’ and showed his address in his passport. The man shook his head no and said Manu could not have the citizen fee because he did not have a copy of his residency permit. What an asshole! You don’t need a residency permit when you are a citizen of the country! I can’t believe how awful people are to Manu in his own country. Because they can tell he was not born in India they give him such a hard time. He does not receive the ‘nicer’ treatment given to white people but also has to fight for his rights as an Indian. He is stuck in the middle and it angers me that after living in a country for 20 years he should still need to fight, in Hindi no less, for his dues. After all, the only reason his family left India was because their state was becoming a part of Pakistan because the Indian Hindus and Muslims could not make peace.

After arguing with the man for about 5 minutes, in which time I saw Manu get really mad for the first time, Manu turned to me and said he was not going inside the temples. This is when I completely lost it and ‘Explona’ came back in full force. I started screaming at the ticket salesman and told him that just because this man has a foreign friend it doesn’t make him un-Indian. I said that he has an Indian passport and has every right to have the citizen fare.  I told this man he was a racist against his own people and I said he was an asshole. I also demanded to speak with his boss. His boss never appeared but some random guy hoping to be our guide stepped in and told me there was a misunderstanding because the man selling tickets does not speak English. I told him that Manu has been arguing in Hindi and that there is no language barrier. The jerk selling tickets started to lie in Hindi and explained to the ‘guide’ that he thought Manu was trying to buy me a ticket for citizen fare. Manu put his hands together and asked the man not to lie. Some people are so disgusting.

Finally Manu got his proper ticket and I gave the ticket seller the finger (actually I bashed the hand gesture against his window) as I left. On our way into the temple grounds the ‘guide’ asked us if we’d like his services. I told him he must be joking. After that display I barely wanted to pay to enter and I didn’t want to support any of them.

Manu and I were both really pissed off as we entered the beautiful park that houses the temples. It took me about 20 minutes of constant beauty to finally calm down. Luckily the temples are gorgeous and hilarious, a good combination for getting me back into a good mood.

For unknown reasons these 9th and 10th century temples were built in the middle of nowhere and have many erotic sculptures decorating their walls. This is not found anywhere else in India. It’s like the Kama Sutra in temple form. Scenes of orgies between four or five people are extremely detailed and common centerpieces along the outer walls. While some scenes are overtly sexual, others are very subtle. There was a recurring image of a woman removing a thorn from her foot. Perhaps a sculptor had a foot fetish?

Other scenes were very twisted. There was a repeated image of a dragon receiving either a blowjob or a handjob from a woman below while a woman riding the creature had her feet in its mouth. Even more disturbing, and hilarious, was a scene in which a man is having sex with a horse while another man masturbates. I don’t think I would have liked being a horse in the 10th century in Khajuraho! Yuck!

My absolute favourite was a small very worn down sculpture completely alone at the back of a temple. I have no idea why, but someone thought it would be a good idea to put a lone sculpture of a man masturbating in the centre of an otherwise bare wall. I loved how even though the tiny sculpture was so worn from wind, he no longer had a face, you could still make out exactly what he was doing. Genius!

Aside from the obvious novelty of the erotic sculptures the temples are very well maintained and avoided destruction due to their isolated location. The tops of the temples are very intricate domes. I overheard a guide say that they are representative of the Himalayan Mountains. I could definitely see it.

I spent the afternoon giggling and putting together a panorama of one lower wall filled with sculptures about 6 inches high in the most ridiculous orgy ever. For the record, the man fucking the horse was also along this wall but strangely tucked away among scenes of battle. I don’t really want to read into that too much!

I took a break from my Photoshop project to eat another wicked meal of gnocchi and ice cream. I needed to eat as much Italian food as possible because I don’t know when I will see it again! The desserts are also great. Would I like another dinner of waffles and ice cream? Yes please! There is no better way to finish off the day!

The next day was our last in Khajuraho. Once again we had a train leaving at 11pm and the day to kill. I woke up late and got right to eating. After an omelet I had an amazing apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Yum! Manu spent the hottest hours of the day working and I began writing this post. When the sun started to set we headed out to the old village of Khajuraho to check out some of the other temples.  We only got to get up close to two but it was nice to just walk through the village. Khajuraho was so relaxing, especially after Agra, and it seemed to come alive at night.  Despite the momentary return of ‘Explona’ I really enjoyed my time in Khajuraho. Part of me even wishes I had had more time there.

We left Udaipur during the cricket World Cup finals between India and Sri Lanka. I guess India won because we heard a lot of yelling and firecrackers on our way. I have to say that now that the cricket games are over the streets are much quieter at night!

Mikael came with us to Jaisalmer on the night bus. I think he was a little surprised to see such a dirty mode of transport! He’s right really; the night buses and trains that Manu and I have been taking are absolutely filthy. There are never any sheets and in the morning we are covered in dirt and dust.

Despite the bumpy dirty ride we all arrived in Jaisalmer though I was feeling pretty ill. I barely slept on the bus due to a runny nose, lots of noise and a change of bus at 4am. Needless to say, when I arrived at our hostel I pretty much collapsed. I felt like I might be running a fever and slept most of the day. A really nice Italian girl in our dorm offered me her thermometer and said se also gets sick in India often. There seems to be a constant headache from the heat, a runny nose from the pollution and stomachaches from the food. All in all India is proving to be hard on my system!

The next day I awoke feeling much better. Manu, Mikael and I explored the massive sand castle, in the center of town. Actually, I’m not sure whether it’s a sand castle or a sand fort. There’s a castle inside it… hmm… tricky. Well, whatever it was we explored it!

On the way into the fort, yea, let’s call it a fort, there were a few groups of women selling jewelry. One woman named Sita called me over to her and introduced me to her children. She gave me a free anklet and sent me on my way.  The women in Jaisalmer wear the most amazing saris and jewelry that I have seen so far in India. The saris contain an amazing amount of mirror-work, making them glimmer and sparkle in the desert sunlight. It’s really breathtaking.

As we entered the fort we followed a group of three women wearing amazing saris into a temple. There, they were met by more incredibly glamorous women. Manu said these were not normal saris and we learned that it was New Years in Rajasthan. I could not stop staring at the women. They were covered in gold jewelry and so many colours. At one point I asked Manu and Mikael why we don’t dress like this in Canada. It seems so unfair! Finally I asked the women if I could take a photo of them all and I even got one of me with all of them! It’s a great photo but I definitely look out of place! I have never felt so unglamorous.

We continued wandering around the fort until it became too hot to walk. I was feeling a bit ill again, due to the heat, so we returned to the hostel and watched a movie in the afternoon. Mikael on the other hand was going on a camel safari in the desert so we told him we’d meet him in Jodhpur.

The next morning Manu and I awoke early to head off to Jodhpur. While we ate breakfast we watched a man playing two recorders at once. It was pretty interesting. One recorder played a fairly constant note while the other played a more intricate melody.

The bus to Jodhpur was crowded and hot. While we were driving through the dry desert I kept getting little specks of wet dirt on me. It hit my glasses and even the back of my neck. It may have been someone spitting. I am not sure. No matter what it was it was gross.

We arrived in Jodhpur and spent the day relaxing on the rooftop overlooking the blue city. Jodhpur is a fairly large city, much bigger than Jaisalmer, which is known for having a section where all the buildings are painted blue. Apparently it was once only Brahmin whose houses were blue but now most people have added their home to the mix.

We stayed at a place called Cozy Guest House and cozy was a bit of an understatement. Our room had two beds in it and that’s about it. Manu’s bed touched both walls. I am not sure how they ever got the mattress inside!

The next day we met two really cute Dutch girls and the four of us went down to the market and clock tower area to meet Mikael for lunch. He had gotten food poisoning on his safari and was still feeling pretty bad. After lunch the five of us wandered around a bit and looked for the way up to the fort. It seems like every city in Rajasthan has a large fort in the middle. Along the way poor Mikael decided he was not feeling up to it and returned to his hotel. We knew we wouldn’t see him again and I hope he enjoys the rest of his trip!

The four of us continued and finally found the entrance to the fort. We didn’t want to pay to enter the actual museum of the fort. Instead we just wanted to walk around it and see the views of the blue city. The fort was nice and the view was alright. I tried to find our hotel in the mass of blue cubes but failed. Manu swears the city used to be ‘bluer’!

Once again we returned to the hostel and relaxed for most of the afternoon. It is so hot here I find that after one activity we are so exhausted we need to relax for the rest of the day! It’s sad, but true! Luckily there wasn’t much to do in Jodhpur anyways. Overall I found Jodhpur to be a bit of a disappointment. In comparison to Jaisalmer and Udaipur there wasn’t much magic in the air.

From Jodhpur we took an early morning train to Bikaner, which turned out to be the dustiest crap hole of a city. The only interesting thing about it was watching camels with some designs in their fur pulling carts instead of cows. I like the facial expressions of camels. They seem to look half regal and half dumb as a post! This is especially true when they are trotting and their over sized lips are flapping.

After trying to stay in the city itself we opted to stay in a slightly overpriced hotel outside of the main drag. We spent the entire day in our room watching movies and resting. I was having a lot of stomach issues again and feeling overheated and exhausted.

The next day we changed hotels and headed to Deshnok to visit Karni Mata Temple. This temple is home to hundreds of sacred rats. Yes, sacred rats. The story goes that a 14th century incarnation of Durga named Karni Mata asked Yama, the God of Death, to restore to life the son of a grieving storyteller. When Yama refused Karni Mata sought revenge by turning all the souls of storytellers into rats to deprive Yama of human souls. It’s a very weird story and the temple was equally weird.

First we had to line up to get inside with a large number of Indian pilgrims. Some of them had large bowls of food as offerings to the rats. We had to remove our shoes because we were entering holy ground. Usually this is not an issue, but when I stepped inside the temple and saw how filthy it was I wished I still had my sandals on. The rats kept to themselves and stayed mostly in the corners among the heaps of food. It is said it is good luck if one of them runs over your feet but I can’t imagine this happening often. The rats themselves didn’t bother me much. What I did find gross was the environment of the temple. It was essentially the habitat of rats; a garbage dump. Walking over the half eaten rat food in bare feet was pretty disgusting. Manu on the other hand found the experience really interesting. Still, I wonder if he will ever go back.

We returned to Bikaner and relaxed. My stomach was not sorting itself out so I wasn’t eating much. We finished the day with yet another movie and then woke up late the next morning. We had a train at 6 in the evening to Agra and I think we were both ready to leave dusty Bikaner behind us!

We arrived in Ahmedabad by plane and waited for a night bus to Udaipur. With the hours to waste we watched cricket (India vs. Pakistan) in a hotel in the nice part of town for the better part of 3 hours.

To get to the nice part of town we had to go through the rougher part of town. I was actually shocked by the poverty mixed with the city landscape. People were sitting and talking right on the side of the road.  Kids were playing cricket on the highway like how kids in Canada play hockey on the small neighbourhood roads.  There were also somewhat decrepit lawn chairs lining the roads on which many people were sleeping. I couldn’t believe that people were basing themselves where they were inhaling exhaust fumes from cars all day. I mentioned this to Manu who said that this is common, as Indian cities do not have a culture of parks.

The night bus to Udaipur was only six hours. India had won the cricket match, which was more important than the final due to the rivalry with Pakistan, so firecrackers were being set off all night. The night buses are really interesting.  They are double-decker buses with seats on the first floor and tiny beds with ladders like bunk beds on the second level. The beds did not have sheets and were only semi clean. I used my wrap skirt as a sheet as I had done on the train south. However, the bus was more private than the train. Each bed is its own little compartment with a sliding door. The down side was that my window would not stay shut so I became quite cold late at night. Another disadvantage is that the buses do not have toilets.

We reached Udaipur at 4am and checked into the Panorama Hotel. During the drive in our tuk tuk I noticed that there were many cows sleeping on the streets. I loved seeing stray dogs cuddling with the cows for warmth! We promptly went to bed until about 9am.

The next day we wandered the streets of Udaipur. It’s a beautiful city surrounding several lakes. Many of the buildings were painted light blue, which I found reminiscent of Morocco.  Also, there a few temples, one of which is now an extremely expensive hotel, which float in the middle of the biggest lake. It was quite a beautiful view from our rooftop. We meandered our way through the streets, across the bridge, to the Jagdish Temple. When we visited it was prayer time and the never-ending bell was so loud I could barely stand it. The temple itself is quite beautiful with a lot of intricate details and the Sadhus are really interesting to watch.

From the temple we continued to the City Palace that looks a bit like a wedding cake and sits on a hill near the shore of Lake Pichola. I found the architecture of the building more interesting than the paintings hanging on the walls. A lot of fine detailing was done with mirrors, which I had never seen before. It was like mirror mosaics and quite stunning. Also, the views of the city were great. Lucky for me I was able to sneak in my camera without paying the massive fee for the right to photography! Manu got a last minute translation job while we were in the palace. I got a real kick out of seeing him pull out his laptop in such a setting. The guards were also intrigued.

After lunch we got sufficiently lost in the windy streets. A group of small boys playing cricket pulled me by the arms into their house. Their mother, who was holding a child of about 2 years old, greeted Manu and me and went to get her husband. The family showed us their photo albums and anything they could find really. It was very cute. Afterwards Manu played a bit of cricket with the kids before we headed back to our hotel.

That night the view of the city lit up in lights was lovely. Just before the sunset we could really see the surrounding hills. I was definitely feeling Udaipur.

The next day Manu and I awoke and went to find a barber with a buzzer. I had been thinking about it for a while and decided that today, April 1st, would be the day that I would shave my head. It would be a great April Fools Day activity!

The first hair salon we found was only for women. It seems that in India barbershops are not coed. Manu asked the hairdresser in Hindi if she had a buzzer. She said no and told Manu he’d have to go to a men’s’ barbershop. Manu said, ‘It’s not for me it’s for her!’ The hairdresser looked at me and said something like ‘Oh, ok… wait WHAT?!’

We asked her where we could find a men’s’ barbershop and headed out.  Just as we left the hairdresser said ‘Wait… but why?’ I told her I was too hot in India. I don’t think she was convinced.

The men’s barbershop was close by and only had two seats in it. After a young boy got a trim it was my turn. We tried, in Hindi, to explain to the barber what a Mohawk was as I thought it would be fun to have one for a day or two. The barber seemed to understand and got started.

Five minutes later the barber was still combing my hair. Manu explained to me, in French, that this is probably the only time he’ll get a female customer and he’s intrigued. He finally cut off most of my hair and then trimmed it really short with scissors. He was being very careful about the Mohawk but failing miserably. Finally we just got him to buzz my whole head so we could start our day. Before I left, the barber rubbed his hands on my head in a really funny way. It felt so weird to have no hair!

We left the barber’s with a bag of my hair. The barber didn’t know where we could donate it and suggested to try giving to a beggar.  The beggars were uninterested and recommended we go to the temple to see if the Sadhus wanted it. The Sadhus were less enthusiastic than the beggars. One pointed to his own hair and said, in Hindi, ‘I have hair, what do I want yours for?’ Another said ‘If you want to take a picture of me go ahead, but I don’t care about the hair!’ Apparently my understanding that wig making was big business in India and hair would be a desired item was completely wrong. I ended up leaving the bag of hair on the shelf in the temple and just walking away!

Later that day Manu and I bought tickets to go for a boat ride in Pichola Lake. A few German, British and Korean tourists were also going. As we were waiting to go, Manu overheard the Indian guys referring to the Koreans as dogs. They were speaking in Hindi and assumed no one could understand them. I was so disgusted I demanded our money back and left saying they should be ashamed of themselves. At first they denied calling anyone dogs, but when Manu started speaking in Hindi they quickly changed their tune and gave us our money back immediately. It kills me how stupid people can be, especially those who are the victims of racism so often.

In the end we found a cheaper boat ride just down the lake. It was very relaxing and my anger towards the racist idiots settled down. I still wonder if I should have told the Koreans what they’d said. The fact that they gave those morons business bothers me. Oh well.

The next morning we woke up early for a day trip to Kumbalgarh and Ranakpur. We met a Canadian named Mikael who came with us. The drive to Kumbalgarh was about two hours and I was surprised to see that every village had electricity. This is a major difference between India and a lot of other poor nations like Tanzania and Ethiopia.

Kumbalgarh is a massive 15th century fortress that seems to appear out of nowhere. Its walls are immense and it’s amazing that it was ever conquered, although it was only ever taken once. There weren’t many tourists so the place felt like it was ours. It was fun just wandering around and checking out the palace at the top. There were also lots of temples and gardens.

Next we headed to the Jain temple of Ranakpur. On the way our driver stopped to show us a baoris, which is a traditional step-well of the Rajasthan area. Two cows pulled a large log in a circle.  A man sitting on the log hit the cows periodically to keep them moving. This action pulled a series of small cups up from the well and into a basin of water. Just nearby a lady was using the water to wash her clothes.  There were also some women harvesting wheat just behind the well. Just as in so many other countries, it seems that in Indian villages, the women do most of the hard labour.  At least I haven’t seen one with a baby strapped to her back as she works!

Ranakpur was a stunning white marble Jain temple located in the middle of nowhere. It is known for being supported by 1,444 uniquely carved pillars.  The Jain religion is completely nonviolent so shoes and leather items may not enter the temple. Manu told me that some Jain followers where masks over their faces to prevent them from killing microbes. Unfortunately the only people we saw in the temple were tourists and a few Jain ‘priests’ offering to pray for you for money. No thanks! Despite the tourist trap stuff it was definitely worth visiting. There was a lot of elephant imagery, which I enjoyed, and the atmosphere was really peaceful. It would be so amazing to sit there when no one else was around!

A long 3-hour drive through the hills brought us back to Udaipur. We had a few hours to eat and watch some of the final cricket match between India and Sri Lanka before anther night bus journey awaited us. I was feeling a bit ill with a sinus and head cold but the time had come to leave Southern Rajasthan and see what Western Rajasthan had to offer!

I can’t believe I left my hair in a temple in Udaipur!

Although most of what I wanted to see in India is in the north, Manu and I took one week out of our time together to go all the way south to Kerala. The reason? Elephants of course!

We arrived in Kochi very tired from the train but excited. The weather was even hotter than in Bombay, but with fewer buildings and people the ocean breezes could actually be felt. We checked into a small hotel with a very nice very tiny woman running the place. We latter realized she was not the boss but ran the place on her own terms despite him!

Kochi itself was not too interesting. While researching elephant sanctuaries, a friend had recommended one near Periyar National Park, we stumbled across the famous Chinese fishing nets and an evening auction of fish caught that day.

After being devoured by mosquitoes that night, Manu and I took the bus to Kumily, a small village at the edge of Periyar National Park. To understand how much I love elephants we spent 7 hours on a nauseating bus, reaching Kumily at 11pm, just to go to an elephant sanctuary that we only hoped existed!

When we arrived at Coffee Inn we argued over our room price only to find that our $8.60 room was amazing! The furniture was stunning, the fan kept the room cool, there was not a mosquito in sight, and best of all we had a TV with the cartoon network! Before going to bed we got to watch the Powerpuff Girls. I couldn’t have been happier.

The next day we switched to a cheaper room and began our search for elephants. Unfortunately the elephant sanctuary I had heard of did not exist. Instead there were two elephant farms, which allow tourists to pay to bathe and be showered by the animals. I got the feeling that these elephants were being captured from the forests just for the sake of tourism. I could not morally support these camps and so we left Kumily without seeing a single elephant. In case you are wondering, we didn’t bother going into Periyar NP because it was expensive and it was unlikely that would see anything beyond the forest.

To ease my frustration and disappointment I decided to go for an Ayurvedic massage. The state of Kerala is known for Ayurveda, a type of traditional medicine that concentrates on massage and diet. All over the south we saw shops selling special Ayurveda oils and supplements. Since our elephant hunt was failing miserably I decided to try out this unique kind of massage. Manu, who does not like strangers touching him, passed.

An adorable middle-aged woman who seemed just as curious about me as I was about Ayurveda did my massage. First I had to undress and sit in a chair. I then had oil poured on my head and given a head massage for 20 minutes. I think head massages are my favourite. The oil smelled really good but I cannot describe it. I couldn’t place any of the smells to any spices or plants. All I can say is that coconut was not involved. The head massage was really varied and at one point reminded me of the childhood massaging game ‘Crack and egg on your head let the yolk run down, let the yolk run down, let the yolk run down…’

After my hair was made very oily it was time for the rest of my body to catch up. I lay down on a pretty normal massage table and had a full body massage with the same oil. The oil gets hot when rubbed which I had never experienced before. The only other thing worth noting is that the masseuse pulled all my fingers and toes to make them pop. It was so weird on my feet!

After the massage was finished and I was swimming in oil I went for a ‘steam bath’ to help my body absorb the oil. The steam bath was a wooden box that you sat inside of with your head poking out the top. I sat there as a kettle boiled and filled the box with steam. It was very bizarre. To make matters a little more awkward, the masseuse put both her arms up on the box and rested her head upon them. She examined my head and face while I could do nothing but look back at her and raise my eyebrows in question. After a few minutes of this she said to me ‘You have small head.’ I completely cracked up.

The next day we left Kumily and headed to Kottayam.  The 4 hour drive was pretty spectacular. I realized that what had seemed an awful drive at night, in which the bus appeared to be spinning in a circle, was actually a beautiful windy road through the tea plantations. I now knew what had smelled so good at night on the way to Kumily.

We arrived in Kottayam and found a half decent place to sleep. My stomach was acting up a little and we spent most of our evening searching the city for toilet paper. At one point Manu distracted a fancy hotel reception worker, by asking about rooms, while I snuck into the toilet to steal the toilet paper. We were desperate! Every time we found a shop that looked like it might sell TP the owner made of face of confusion and disgust, as they shook their heads no. It was as if toilet paper was totally gross. Finally we found some and went to sleep.

The next day we took a bus to Kumarakom for the day to explore the backwaters. We hired a small wooden ‘cottage boat’, like a canoe, and drifted along the rivers drenched in sweat from the heat. We saw the beautiful but expensive houseboats that people tend to rent in this part of the country. There were a lot of cool birds, especially the Kingfishers, and many local people going about their business. I loved seeing the different ways people used the water. We saw people fishing, cleaning dishes and bathing. Our guide was very nice and pointed out a lot of bird species. He also took us over to where a bunch of ducklings were playing on the water lilies.

After our nice boat ride we returned to Kottayam momentarily and then headed back to Kochi. We decided to go to Kodanad the next day to see some elephants. I had been told that Kodanad was an elephant rescue center and I hoped the experience would be positive.

We arrived in Kodanad at the edge of the Periyar River at 8:30am as the mahouts (elephant trainers) were guiding the elephants down to the shore. We never got to interact with the animals but it was cool to see the relationship between mahout and elephant.

Of course, this experience could not compare to seeing wild savanna African elephants in Tanzania. I flinched every time one particularly mean mahout hit a baby elephant. I also found it odd to see the elephants being bathed when I know they are completely capable of doing it themselves. All in all, I finally saw some elephants and my love for them is still strong but I would never want to be a mahout!

When we returned to Kochi that afternoon we took a nap and then went to the oldest theatre in the city to see a Kathakali show. Kathakali, which also starts with ‘K’, is a traditional type of play in which the actors talk to each other through sign language and overly dramatic facial expressions. The eye movements are particularly enhanced. Before the show began we got to watch the actors put on their make-up. All the colours are natural powders mixed with coconut oil. It was very elegant and interesting to watch. The show itself was a bit boring at times, neither Manu nor I know the sign language they are using, but also very funny. The costumes were insanely detailed and over the top. The evil demon (red face) made hilarious sounds and faces as he was killed by the hero (green face) with the tiniest baton!

As the show concluded a thunderstorm started and Manu and I had to run to a restaurant to prevent getting drenched. We ate some yummy pizza and I discovered that non-Indian food cured my stomach woes.

The next day we left Kochi for the airport and flew to Rajasthan. Our time in the south was over and an entirely new India awaited us in the north!

‘I think my sweat is sweating!’

After a few days of R&R in Istanbul and Büyükada with family friends Ron and Fusun, I left Turkey and all the amazing people that live there. I barely slept on the flight to Mumbai. I thought I would sleep on a bench in the airport on arrival but the Bombay airport seems to be the only airport in the world without a single seat! The waiting area was actually outside and even before I had seen Manu or the Indian sun I began to sweat. The humidity is impossible to describe!

Manu is a friend of mine that I was lucky enough to meet working at Kili Kids in Moshi, Tanzania in 2009. Although he is Indian he seems to live his life as a nomad even within his own country! He works as an English-French translator and has the freedom to work anywhere as long as he has an Internet connection. Lucky for me he was happy to travel around some of India with me!

Manu met me at the airport and we headed to his friends’ place. They are a really cute couple expecting a baby. I mostly slept but I did manage to notice that Bombay has about 1,000 smells. The most prominent is ‘wet dog’.  I also had my first experience with the Indian ‘head bobble’. This is a strange head tilting movement, combined with a facial expression of serenity, that can mean ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘maybe’ or ‘leave me alone’. I almost cracked up as the three men selling train tickets were ‘head bobbling’ constantly. Even funnier to me was how Manu was able to know what each particular head bobble meant. I had absolutely no idea.

The next day was the Holi Festival. Hindus all over India celebrate this festival by covering each other in brightly coloured powder. As we took a taxi to a hostel in the south, and more touristy, part of town I saw amazing images of people covered in colours riding in tuk tuks, walking the streets, and just going about their normal business. I even saw a few dogs playing Holi! I wish I could have photographed them all!

Holi was not as prominent in the southern tourist neighbourhood when we arrived. However, we headed to Chowpatty Beach where more people were celebrating. We got sufficiently covered in colour. A lot of men put colour on me and then very subtly grazed their hands over my boobs. I pointed out to Manu how much colour I had on my chest versus his. One little girl, with a nose ring, carefully put some purple on my face and forbid a boy from touching me. She said only girls touch girls and he should only put colour on Manu. What a cutie!

After the beach we headed to a temple and checked to see if anyone was playing Holi. No one was playing but there was evidence of earlier festivities. Some stairs were covered in colour patches and a lion statue was spotted in orange and pink.

We returned to the Salvation Army, our hostel, and cleaned up. We then ate and relaxed until bedtime. My all female dorm was so hot I barely slept. It was also the first hostel I had ever seen that did not provide sheets. I slept on my wrap skirt!

The next day Manu and I spent the entire morning doing errands. Buying a train ticket was not a simple process and I found myself needing to abandon ‘Turkey mode’ and get back into ‘Africa mode’. I am sure this will adjust itself to ‘India mode’ soon. After we finally completed our goals of retrieving Manu’s internet stick and buying a train ticket it was way too hot to do much. We spent a bit of time sitting in Oval Maidan watching men of all ages playing cricket. This is a sport I will never understand! Lovely architectural buildings surround the park so I concentrated on those! Back in the hostel I could barely think it was so hot! I felt like I was floating through the day. I was constantly drinking water in what felt like a losing battle with dehydration.

I awoke the following morning to find that my cell phone, which had been charging, had been stolen over night. I was mostly annoyed that we now had more errands to do! Instead of dealing with it all right away we took a boat to Elephanta Island to check out the caves. The boat to the island left from the Gateway of India and was so refreshing. Ah, the breeze! I believe this boat ride (return) consisted of the only 2 hours in Mumbai that I was not sweating. The caves themselves were pretty cool. It is nice to see new gods and images. Hindu artwork is definitely miles away from Arabic or Western styles. Most of the rock-cut temples are dedicated to Shiva. Manu was a good guide and told me that the three huge faces of Shiva show him as the Creator, Destroyer and Preserver of the universe. Unfortunately only the first large cave was really worth seeing. The others were just simple caves. In any case I think both Manu and I were eager to get back in the breeze on the boat!

Back in the heat of the city I was pleasantly surprised to find that buying an American-Indian adapter was cheap and easy. With our errands finished we headed to Crawford Market to see one last part of Bombay. It was evening and I was still wearing my short jean shorts. I got a lot of stares and told myself I’d dress better on the train the next day. The market was a lot like many other markets I have seen. One thing that was incredible to see was a large stall selling only mangoes! I thought of Ali in Tanzania immediately. This would have been our heaven! Unfortunately I didn’t have any, as my stomach has been a bit iffy. Oh India!

The next day we took the inner city train to our train station to go south to Kochi in Kerala. The inner city train was pretty funny. We were in the luggage compartment meaning only those with baggage could enter. I enjoyed seeing students with a small side bag (luggage?) beside women with large straw barrels of seafood. These barrels were so heavy the women shouted as they hauled them onto the train.

At noon we boarded the overnight train to Kochi. The ride was about 26 or 27 hours long. I wore my Tanzania lightweight pants, a black tank top and my jean jacket. I was sweating profusely.  I have no idea how these people wear long sleeves over their hairy arms and still do not sweat! They must be aliens. As Manu sweats like me and only moved to India when he was twelve we decided it must be something you learn as a small child.

The train ride was interesting to say the least. I had heard horror stories about women being groped through out the night so I only took off my jacket while on my upper berth bed. The beds are three-tiered so the top bunk is quite high and out of the way. It is also the hottest. An Indian woman from Goa spoke to us a little. She was very curious about Manu and I. Were we in a relationship? She was studying a form of dance traditionally only performed for the gods. She showed us a hand gesture that represented a bee and flower. When we spoke of traveling she told me she could see in my face how much I loved to travel and that she had never met anyone who seemed to love it as much as me.

After supper, which was like Indian microwave dinner, I climbed up to my bed and stared at the ceiling while I sweated. No one was looking at me so I was able to rest with my jacket off. The beds were more like gym mats and would heat up any part of your body in direct contact with it. These beds were pretty dirty and obviously had no sheets. I spent a lot of my time listening to the guys walking up and down the aisle, there were no compartments like on other trains, selling coffee and chai. They use a very strange voice as they yell out the name of the beverage they are selling. It kind of sounds like they have had throat surgery and had an artificial voice box inserted. I wondered who in their right mind would want a hot drink that dehydrates you in such weather? The answer was every Indian except Manu! Insane.

I listened to some music and thanked my lucky stars when the sun went down and the train cooled off considerably. I actually managed to sleep on and off until 10:30 the next morning. Finally, at about 2:30pm, our train arrived in Kochi and Manu and I were ready to share and explore the south west of India for one short week!

P.S. For better or for worse my entire time in Mumbai and on the night train was spotted with thoughts of the book ‘A Fine Balance’. I read this book while in Turkey and it was absolutely incredible. Luckily it is also one of Manu’s favourite books so he didn’t mind my constant remarks of ‘This is like in A Fine Balance when…’

Once I finally arrived in Mardin I was picked up by Gökan and brought to his home in Midyat, about an hour away. Gökan and his housemate Erkam are both computer teachers in Midyat and were nice enough to host me for the entire 8 days I was staying in this part of the country. They were just as hospitable as all the other Turks seem to be and I feel incredibly lucky that I got to spend a significant amount of time with them.

My first real day in Midyat was a Tuesday and luckily for me Erkam had the day off. We walked around old Midyat despite the remains of the sandstorm and rain. Erkam’s car was filthy by the end of the day due to the muddy rain! Ew.

Old Midyat is like a very small Jerusalem. All the buildings are made of the same stone and the streets are very narrow. There are many beautiful Syrian Orthodox churches in the old city but I believe most of the population has emigrated. Now the town is mostly inhabited by Kurdish people. However the Syriac (Assyrian) people have left their mark on the area. Those that still live here still speak Syriac (an Aramaic dialect) and Telkari is famous in Midyat. Telkari is a jewelry style of handmade silver so delicate and detailed it can look like lace. Erkam pointed out all the Telkari stores as we entered the old city. The Syriac people are also renown for stone carving and many of the building in Midyat and Mardin are beautifully decorated. Nonetheless Midyat is now definitely home to the Kurds. As Erkam and I walked through the streets I always asked if the kids were speaking Turkish or Kurdish. The answer was almost always Kurdish. In fact some of the children in this area barely speak Turkish at all! The main architectural highlight of the town is an old government mansion with beautiful carvings around the windows and balconies. I got some great views from the top balcony.

Next we drove to Batman, yes Batman, to a historical place called Hasankeyf. I had the Batman theme song in my head the whole way. Any time the song started to fade we’d see another road sign for Batman and I’d be right back to ‘Na na na na na na na BATMAN!’ Yes, I am immature. So back to Mesopotamia…

Hasankeyf is a nice old town located on a cliff along the Tigris River. The most impressive part is the ruins of the old bridge, Eski Köprüsü, which is divided into three pieces. One large chunk of the bridge remains standing in the middle of the river. There is a fortress, kale, at the top of the cliff and many caves where people once lived. I enjoyed a large stork’s nest located perilously on the top of a tall minaret. A young Kurdish boy showed Erkam and I around but I didn’t understand anything he said. Erkam said his Turkish was so-so. He talked about how the building of the Ilisu Dam has already caused some flooding in the village. If this dam is finished the entire town and its archeological importance will sit underneath the Tigris River!

We crossed to the other side of the Tigris to visit the Zeynel Bey Türbesi, a small conical 15th century tomb decorated in turquoise mosaics. Unfortunately it was being restored so it was surrounded in scaffolding but it was cool nonetheless. We also went to an old hamam located just a few meters from the tomb. However our visit was cut short by a large crazy dog that would not stop barking and growling at us. It was the first time in a long time that I have been afraid of a dog! Stupid dog.

From Hasankeyf we drove to Mor Gabriel, a Syriac monastery over 1,600 years old! For a church that is ancient, and still functioning at that! An added bonus was having an English speaking Syriac guide who lived in the monastery. He was originally a student there. He told me that this area was called Turabdin and was the motherland for Assyrian people. He pointed out the Syriac language and it’s amazing alphabet on some of the walls. The letters look like the children of Hebrew and Arabic! It was so incredible to meet someone who can trace his roots back to the Sumerian, Babylonian and Assyrian people. In addition to this, I found it amazing that a monastery of this size survived all the wars and power struggles that occurred in this region since 397 AD.

The monastery gets its name from Saint Gabriel, who is buried there and apparently caused many miracles. Our guide said that some dirt from his tomb, which was very modest and below our feet, could cure illnesses. I didn’t take any dirt but I appreciated the story. For more information about this monastery you can visit their site at http://www.morgabriel.org/history_teodora.html

My second day in Mesopotamia was uneventful. Both Gökan and Erkam were working and it was raining all day long. At one point there was even a thunderstorm! However, Erkam finished his classes around lunchtime and he brought a bunch of his colleagues back with him to eat. It was nice to meet a mixed bunch of people working together. Some teachers were Kurdish, one was Arabic and others were Turkish. It was nice to see some multiculturalism, even if it seems to be surrounded in political issues and taboos. We all ate dinner together at a friend’s apartment and I learned a lot of Turkish words. Once again, I was blown away by how welcoming all Turkish people seem to be.

When we returned back to our house I met Özgen and his wife Seval for a chat. I had met both of them before. They are both English teachers and I think Gökan invited them over so we could all speak more easily with one another. They are a very nice funny couple. Özgen said it would be great if I could go to some of his classes the next day and give the kids an opportunity to speak with a native English speaker. I had no other plans and was curious about the schools in this area so I said I’d love to! We all decided I would go the next day.

The next morning came early but I forced myself up. I didn’t want to make Özgen and Gökan late for work! The first school we visited was in the Arabic village called Cavuslu. The classes were very small, only 15 students, and the building was new. Özgen only taught one class there today and Gökan warned me that the other school in the same village was not as nice.

I sat in on Özgen’s Grade 6 class. The kids were very excited at the change in pace and asked me a lot of questions. One boy really liked the word favourite and used it as many times as he could! Standard questions like ‘What’s your favourite animal and food?’ turned obscure with time to things like ‘What’s your favourite season and clothing?’ Apparently my favourite season is summer and I like scarves. I also said my favourite food was pizza because I did not think sushi would be known in a place where the only water deep enough for fish is a pool in a hotel a few kilometers away. I was asked many times if I could swim. I think they were impressed that I could.

At the next school I visited a Grade 5 class of about 40 students. Apparently the principal combined the morning and afternoon classes together so that he could finish work early. The kids looked a bit cramped on their benches. However it was nothing compared to the school system in Moshi. Özgen made a Grade 7 boy, Nurettin, miss his class in order to speak with me. His English was very good. When he learned I was Canadian he asked me ‘What are you doing here?’ I thought this was very funny, and a good question! He also wanted to know what airline I flew with to get here. Funny kid. Another boy, who Özgen said is normally shy, wanted to sing a song for me in Turkish. He was quite possibly the cutest kid ever. When he finished the song I tried to get him to translate it into English but he couldn’t. Apparently it was about marriage! Haha.

Özgen’s next class was Grade 4. They only started learning English this year and we spent a lot of time naming animals in Turkish and English. They were very sweet.

The last school I visited was a high school in Midyat. The Grade 11 class was tiny with only 6 students. They were very shy but their English was pretty good. We talked about university options and families. They asked me if I was sad I did not have a brother. When I said no without hesitation they laughed.

When this class was finished I left Özgen and took a nap at home. Then I met Seval for some Telkari shopping! The women at the store were Assyrian. It was so funny to ask Seval a question in English then have her translate it into Turkish and then hear the women speak to each other in Syriac. A conversation in three languages! They were such nice women and so excited that I was from Canada.

On the way home I stopped to buy a few apples. The man working at the stall would not let me pay for them! He said they were a gift. No one in Turkey will let me pay for anything! Well, except the Telkari of course!

The next day was a Friday and the beginning of Gökan’s 4 day weekend. Yes, a 4-day weekend every week! We decided to go to Mardin and then come back to Midyat before all of us embarked on our weekend road trip! Mardin is only an hour drive from Midyat and similar in style and history. The Assyrian Christians settled here in the 5th century and were taken over by the Arabs in 640. Mardin was then the site of many wars and was passed from the Arabs to the Seljuk, Turks, Kurdish, Mongols and Persians until the Ottomans claimed it in 1517. Like Midyat, some Assyrians still live here but many were killed during the early twentieth century.

The biggest draw of Mardin is its location on a cliff overlooking the plains of Mesopotamia. The images I had seen on the internet looked amazing. However our day in Mardin was extra magical. Over night it had snowed and all of Mardin was lightly dusted with pure white snow! Kids were playing all over the place and many snowballs were thrown! As if the snow was not enough the plains of Mesopotamia down below were bright green. Gökan said he had never actually seen the plains so green. Usually they are brown. Wow, white snow and honey coloured buildings overlooking bright green plains. Magic.

Gökan had decided that for the day I would be our guide. Ha, I bet by the end he regretted this decision! We did a lot of walking looking for cool views and interesting architecture. First we found ourselves overlooking the 12th century mosque Ulu Camii. Then we continued to the post office that is located in a very intricate building. From there we continued to climb up the hill to the Sultan Isa Medresesi. This mosque is huge and dates back to 1385. When we arrived at the door it was prayer time. I think Gökan felt a little uneasy. To show him no one cared about our presence I said ‘Merhaba’ in my awful attempt at Turkish to a man entering the mosque. I think Gökan felt better to see the man smile and say hello back to me.

After seeing a bit of the mosque I decided, as guide, that we should climb through the snow up the hill to see the view from behind the mosque. I had seen pictures from there so I knew it was possible. However in my crappy running shoes I definitely ended up with very wet feet. It was also a bit slippery with a few close calls. But it was worth it! The view was absolutely incredible! We could see everything from there. The castle, which is still used by the Turkish soldiers to fight the Kurdish, was just behind us and all of Mardin was at our feet.

Once Gökan managed to pull me away from this viewpoint we headed down the hill, on a well-marked path we had obviously missed on our way up, to the Mardin Museum. The museum was mall but had human figurines and tools from the Mardin area dating back as far as 8,000 BC. Fuck that is old! Truly this is the cradle of civilization!

When we left the museum the weather started to change nonstop. We saw rain and then hail before the sun appeared. We drove down the hill toward the plains to another mosque called Kasımiye Medresesi. It was nice to see the sun shining on the stone. All in all my day in Mardin was pure magic.

After a long sleep and noticing I had a throat infection, damn snow, Erkam, Gökan and I set out for our weekend road trip along the Syrian border. First stop was Urfa. Urfa is considered to be a holy pilgrimage site and seems way more Middle Eastern than most of the cities I have seen in Turkey. It is said that Abraham, you know, the first Jew and a Muslim prophet, was in Urfa when Nimrod, an Assyrian king, had him burned alive. According to Islam, God turned the fire into water and the wood into fish. This story is commemorated at Gölbaşı Park. It’s a beautiful space with a large pool filled with fat pampered carp and surrounded by mosques and green space. Pilgrims come here from all over and feed the fish. I noticed that purple seems to be a popular colour among the religious people but I do not know why. Also diaper-like pants, or Hammer pants, called şalvaş, are common for men.

After watching the pilgrims for a while and admiring how the mosques are reflected in the pools, the weather was beautiful; we climbed up the Kale, fortress, for another view of the city. On the way up a couple in traditional clothing were holding hands. I found the balance between tradition and liberalism really refreshing. I took a ton of photos of that couple!

Back down from the Kale I was ‘being guide’ and got us a little lost in the bazaar and winding streets of Urfa. After a lunch of dürüm we left Urfa and headed to Harran.

Harran is very close to Syria and famous for its beehive houses and the ruins of Harran University which may be the world’s first university… ever. Harran is considered to be one of the oldest sites of continuous human habitation. An 11,500-year-old temple and 13, 500 year old statue have been excavated nearby. The torah says Abraham stayed in Harran and later sent a servant to the city to find his son Isaac a wife. The university was destroyed by a Mongol invasion in 1251. However a tall tower of the university still stands.

Now Harran is just a small village. The houses are very cool beehive structures dotted with satellites! I love seeing the old with the new! I also stumbled upon a Kurdish wedding in which all the women were wearing purple, why I don’t know, and the people were dancing from side to side. It was actually a really funny sight.

From Harran we drove a few more hours to the city of Antep. We were spending the night here with Gökan’s friend Cana and her husband Mustafa. Cana cooked an amazing dinner of fish and a poppy seed cake for dessert. I kept being told ‘yea yea yea’ which means ‘eat eat eat’ in Turkish. I was so full I’d respond ‘no no no!’ We went out for some tea and played some backgammon before I promptly collapsed in my bed!

The next day started with more delicious food. Cana made a breakfast of cheeses, olives, pide (pita), cheese pastry, jam, cucumbers, tomatoes, fresh butter (which was more like cream) and honey. Best of all was a pistachio breakfast baklava. I love the idea of a breakfast baklava!

In Antep we went to see the castle and its museum about the French occupation of the region. It was really bizarre to read all about how the Armenians helped the French and nothing about the Armenian genocide. I discussed this briefly with Gökan back in Midyat and it is clear that the Armenian and Assyrian genocides are completely denied and not taught in school. The closest reference I could find to the Armenian genocide in the museum was a plaque that read as follows:

After the British occupation, Armenians who migrated during the First World War began returning to Antep… Turkish families were made to leave their houses for Armenians settling in the city. As a result of agitations of Armenian translator Leonyan Adur and Armenian provocations, the British forces increased hostility towards Turks and occupied the government office on January 25th, 1919 and seized administration. A group of notables and intellectuals of Antep were taken to the American College and were interrogated and they were sent to exile, first to Aleppo and then to Egypt, as they were accused of forced migration of Armenians during the First World War.

From the museum we walked through the old city bazaar and I saw all the beautiful backgammon boards of dark wood Jodi and I had loved in Istanbul. Clearly, this is where they come from! We stopped in Imam Çağdaş for what is considered one of the world’s best pistachio baklava. It was pretty damn good!

After attempting to visit he mosaic museum, which was closed, we left Antep for a boat ride on the Euphrates River. As we drove down to the water we could see the Rumkale, a castle on a cliff on the river. We got into a little boat and headed for a small town that is now entirely underwater except for its minaret. This is due to a dam that flooded the river in this area. Hasankeyf, on the Tigris River is in danger of the same fate. From this bizarre place we went to Halfeti for a short walk and then climbed to the Rumkale for a few more views. It was a very beautiful place.

The drive back to Midyat was long and crazy. The view of Mardin all lit up was spectacular. The Turks call it a ‘necklace’ with the castle being the neck. Between my napping I noticed Erkam was driving 160 km/h. Also in Midyat one car was driving on the wrong side of the road! Home safe and sound. Erkam got up the next morning to go to work! What a champion!

My last two days in the area were very relaxed. I wrote this blog post, which was very time consuming, and walked around Midyat while the sky was blue. It looks very different with a blue sky rather than a brown sky! I may have also bought a little more Telkari

Tonight I will go to Mardin so that I can catch my flight back to Istanbul early tomorrow morning. I am sad to leave Gökan and Erkam! I have gotten to know them well. They have been amazing hosts and I hope one day they will visit me and I can repay the favour. Without them my time in the southeast of Turkey would not have been the same! Thanks so much guys.

My luck with overnight transport was short-lived. I had a sleepless night on the bus from Göreme to Antalya and was even more disappointed to see that the weather was grey and raining rather than sunny. When the sun is not out there is little to do in Antalya.

However, it wasn’t long before I realized that the people would be the real highlight of Antalya. We hadn’t even found a hostel before being invited to tea (çay) by a jewelry maker with the thickest mustache I have ever seen. Once we had a much-needed nap, we were lucky enough to find Kafe Corner for lunch.  This tiny restaurant looks more like someone’s kitchen (only two tables inside) and is run by a father-son team. They are the only ones who work there and are possibly the nicest people I have met in Turkey. Not only did they make us each a delicious meal by simply asking us what we liked to eat, but they also recommended a great hamami (Turkish Bath) for us to visit. Since the harbour and beaches were essentially off limits due to the weather, a hamami sounded like a perfect idea.

We went to the Nazir Hamami located in the old city of Antalya. This hamam was established in 1611 and is still very traditional. It does not use electricity to keep the water or marble floors and still provides its customers with ‘peştemal’ (special towel). We signed up for the whole package, sit in the heat for over twenty minutes, followed by a full body skin peel, a full body foam massage and finally an oil massage.  It was a two-hour service and only cost 25$. Incredible.

The hamam was much different from the one I experienced with Cris in Morocco. This one was much more spa like with someone attending to you at every step. Instead of having an old topless woman scrubbing me like a baby on the floor, I had a middle-aged potbellied man scrubbing me like a baby on a nice marble slab. I felt a bit weird having a man massage me, and when he removed my peştemal covering my breasts and gave me a full on boob massage it took a lot out of me not to burst out laughing. I found solace in the fact that Jodi was having the same bizarre experience in another small room. I found out later that while we together having our peels and foams she had a man massaging her but her oil massage (and boob massage) were done by a woman. Guess I was the only one molested! And I tipped him after! Despite the awkwardness of having a man doing all the massages it was a really nice experience. The peel was incredible and I definitely left the hamam feeling relaxed. Unfortunately the next time I wore my backpack I completely undid any healing in my back!

The next day in Antalya was even rainier than the first, so we headed to the Archeological Museum. Antalya is special because artifacts from every time period in human history have been found in the area. The museum was well laid out beginning with pieces from prehistory and ending with wooden furniture from the Ottoman Empire. The most extensive section was from the age of the Roman Empire. They had many statues, sarcophagi, ceramics, etc.  I think after Turkey I will be officially Roman ruined out!

After the museum we ran back to the old city in the rain and ended up having many more cups of çay with friendly people. The day before we’d had about 5 cups of tea (each with a long chat) and today was no different. I was really touched by how kind everyone was in Antalya. We decided to have dinner at the Kafe Corner and it was almost like seeing old friends. We had another tasty meal with baklava for dessert.

The next morning we woke up at 6am to catch a bus to Denizli. The sun was finally out, to wish us a safe journey, and we took a few pictures of the town on our way to the bus. Antalya really is beautiful and I wish we’d had better weather to really take it in.

In Denizli we were met at the bus station by Kemal, a good friend Ira met couch surfing in Istanbul. Kemal is my age and studying tourism. He is fluent in Japanese and his English is awesome. He said he’d take us to Pamukkale and give us a ‘tour’ for practice. First we met some of Kemal’s friends and had a yummy brunch together of gözleme (Turkish pancake), olives, cheese and çay, of course.  They were all so welcoming and amazingly hospitable.

Six of us ended up going to Pamukkale. The main attraction here is a limestone hill with thermal vents and hot springs. It looks like snow and is so weird to walk over. We walked up the hill barefoot as there is water everywhere. It’s really cool to feel the water get warmer and warmer as you approach a hot spring. At some points the water is as warm as 35 degrees. At the top of the hill is another surprise. Roman ruins of the city of Hierapolis, which was famous for its hamams and considered a place of healing, sit beyond the thermal waters. Although the ruins were nice I was too distracted by the limestone environment and photographing the sunset reflecting in the pools of water. Kemal said if I were on one of his tours he would have told me to hurry up! On the way out of Pamukkale we walked by many Roman tombs including one for gladiators. Once again I was distracted by the sunset. It had been ages since we’d seen real sun!

Back in Denizli we ate a yummy meal, had more çay, and then headed for dondurma, Turkish ice cream so thick you eat it with a fork and knife. It was awesome and my love of ice cream continues to grow!

After a bit of wine Jodi and I promptly passed out in Kemal’s room, which he had given up for us. Truly the people of Turkey give a whole new meaning to the word ‘kindness’.