To Asia...and Beyond!

Happy Thanksgiving!  We are thankful that you have been so patient as we've been off the grid.  We covered lots of ground in the last few weeks and will break the journey into a few entries to make it more manageable for the reader (and writer).

When we said goodbye to Europe, we entered that time warp that comes with flying through the night and across many time zones.  We landed in Hong Kong with our bodies telling us it was bedtime and our watches telling us it was early morning.  Disembarking the plane, we were greeted by legions of local residents in surgical face masks passing out swine flu warning literature and using the latest technology to scan our bodies for fever.  For Ben, it was eerily like the sterile welcome he got on his last visit to Hong Kong during the height of the SARS outbreak.

With six hours to burn before our next flight, we hopped on a bus to explore Lantau Island.  Embracing the fact that we traded the continent of old cathedrals for the land of Buddha, we rode a gondola through the lush mountains to the top of the Ngong Ping plateau.  Here we cavorted with the world's tallest outdoor seated bronze Buddha statue and lapped up the sunshine.  We also visited the Po Lin Monastery amidst a sea of pesky tourists.  Our quiet time for the day came at the Wisdom Path, a set of giant wooden pillars containing a carved prayer.

Brains muddy from 48 sleepless hours of travel, we finally reached the charming chaos of Kathmandu.  Our cab ride to the hotel quickly impressed on us that we had left the first world behind.  The jalopy itself was a battered wreck that must have been on its last legs a decade ago.  The car's engine died anytime the car stopped moving, so the driver just flashed his lights as we approached intersections, while we closed our eyes and held on tightly.  Many of Kathmandu's residents were wearing surgical masks too, but this was to protect their lungs from the choking clouds of smog and exhaust in the streets.
 

We booked a trek the following day and then wandered the city's bustling streets.  Walking the maze of dusty alleys is energizing, heartbreaking, gut wrenching, and draining all at once.  The streets are quite narrow and cabs, mopeds, rickshaws, and bicycles buzz past with horns blaring and immense faith in their ability to navigate at top speed with only inches to spare.  Raw meat hangs in the open air of "butcher shops," which are shanties open to the street.  Vendors call out from all sides in an attempt to snag the business of passersby.  Ancient, wizened women sell marigolds for the faithful to offer on the Hindu shrines checkering the city.  Touts incessantly approach the gora (Nepali for "gringo") with offers of trekking guides, hash, tiger balm, and anything else they think might earn them a buck.  We pass mounds of fresh vegetables for sale, squashed rats on the road, beggars, and fancy restaurants with white linen.  It is an invigorating day of exploration that leaves us exhausted and overstimulated.  It ends abruptly when the nightly blackout rolls through town - the Nepali answer to the city's overwhelming demand for electricity after darkness falls.  We picked out our expedition sleeping bags and down coats by flashlight and then got back to work on resetting our sleep schedules.

The first day of our trek looked on paper like a simple transport day, moving from the city to the countryside.  In reality, we got eight hours of true immersion on a local bus with all the sights, sounds, and smells that entails.  The first two hours were spent just escaping the sprawl of the Kathmandu Valley, with stops every few minutes to pick up anyone who waved at the bus.  We started off as two of the five passengers on an empty bus, but quickly found it bursting at the seams.  Each Nepali bus has a team of three employees who work together to pack it to the brim.  One drives, while the other two hang out the open door calling out the bus's destination to all within earshot.  When they acquire a passenger, the "hangers" put the luggage (and sometimes the passengers) on the bus's roof and do their best to jump in as the driver takes off again.  The winding gravel road into the mountains is barely wide enough for two vehicles, so the hangers also walk along the side of the bus and beat a rhythm on the outside that tells the driver how much space he has whenever there is a bus or truck going in the opposite direction.  Whoever thought Croatia's roads were unsafe has never been to Nepal, where each bus driver has a shrine on the dashboard with an idol of his favorite god in hope that this provides safe passage.    

The bus ride was a grueling and entertaining affair, as we rocketed down the pockmarked road.  The antique woman in the front of the bus sent a constant barrage of mucus laden spit out the window.  Old men carrying straw baskets laughed loudly.  Each bus has a distinct and circus-like horn, used liberally at every bend in the road to alert traffic from the other direction, so this carnival blare was a constant serenade.  We stopped at the last gas station on the road to top off the tank and acquired our final cargo - four mammoth gas cans that bounced on the floor next to us for the rest of the trip.  High on the noxious gasoline fumes, we listened to Bollywood hits in Hindi pouring out of the crackly speakers and prayed that no one would light a cigarette in our rolling Molotov cocktail.



(see youtube video of our bus ride at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIVomw_yZXY)

That night we went to bed giddy to be out of the city and anxious to see what adventures were lurking in the snow capped peaks we could see in the distance.  See you soon for a synopsis of our trek! 

European Swan Song

It turns out that England really is as jolley, olde, and liberal with their vouwels as people say.  We spent five relaxing days in London, taking in the sights and inserting "bloody" into as many sentences a possible for no good reason.  London's tube (aka subway) system is incredibly efficient and we spent the days cruising the bowels of the city and popping up for a look from time to time.

Interspersed amongst the rows of classy buildings, one of London's highlights is its incredible park system.  Most of the large parks are the remnants of royal estates and still owned by the monarchy.  We took a peaceful run one morning through Hyde Park, which was once the preferred deer hunting ground of Henry VIII.  We didn't see any deer stands, but there were some empty beer cans on the ground, so it was easy to visualize.

Besides running, we also found that we could get our heart rates up simply by crossing the street.  With the cars driving on the opposite side of the road from the States, there was always a good shot of adreniline to be had as we swiveled to and fro before taking the plunge in any crossing.  We both came away intact, but not with out some close calls.  Taking the wheel in Australia should be quite a treat...

Another of London's most endearing qualities is the fact that most of its amazing museums are free of charge.  We spent a few marvelous days exploring the British Museum and the Natural History Museum.  The British Museum was especially poignant for us, as it gave us the chance to see many of the items the Brits have looted.....errr, "protected", over the years.  Many of these antiquities are Egyptian, Greek, and Roman, and filled in the gaps witnessed on our visits to the sites themselves.

We felt like we should see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.  So we did it and took the requisite photo.  Sweeeeeet.     

On top of the adventures that London offers everyone, it had two treats specifically for us.  First, we got to reconnect with Carolyn's high school friend, Amy, who just moved to the city.  She was a welcome friendly face and kind enough to introduce us to the renowned pub scene.  Second, with the help of many parties (thanks all!) and despite a postal strike, we successfully imported an American computer.  This will be invaluable in staying on top of our blog, backing up pics, planning ahead (from time to time), and generally staying in touch.

When we landed in Istanbul on September 12th, we knew that we had seven weeks to get to London, but little idea of the path we would take to get there.  It's amazing to look back at all the adventures we've had in that span and a reminder that with some time and the right attitude (not to mention some cash), you can figure out just about anything.

Leaving London, we took the first flight on the around-the-world ticket that we bought this spring.  Our first leg was a short one to the Netherlands, where we spent three days exploring Amsterdam.  We rented a great apartment that quickly became home, especially since most of our exploration the first day consisted of what we could see through our rain-streaked windows.  Things cleared up considerably the second day and we enjoyed walking down the bicycle-choked streets of this laid back city.  Plus, Amsterdam has more canals than Venice, giving pedestrians ample opportunity to get away from busy avenues.  Despite its seedy reputation for coffee houses (where you can smoke anything but tobacco) and the working girls of the Red Light District, we would be more apt to describe the city as charming.

We got a taste of the town's serious side too, visiting the house where Anne Frank and seven other Jews hid during the Nazi occupation in WWII.  To get a more complete picture of the era, we also spent an afternoon in the Dutch Resistance Museum, which chronicles the trials of the Dutch people during the war.

Finally, we realize we just set a new record for the timeliness of this blog post, but would like to warn everyone not to get used to it as we are leaving for Nepal in a couple of days.  We are both excited to leave the city scape for mountain vistas, but are not overly confident that wi-fi will be prevalent throughout the country.  If that is the case, our next post will be to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving!

101 Dalmation...Raindrops

Since our last post, we worked our way south down the Dalmation coast of Croatia.  This stretch of rocky cliffs and pebble beaches on the Adriatic Sea is known for its stunning beauty - believe the hype.  Less than 20 years ago, this area was shattered by war as the former country of Yugoslavia fractured.  These days are long gone and we found Croatia to be full of friendly people, reasonably priced, brimming with history, and as gorgeous as it's reputed to be.  Despite unseasonably cool temps and persistant drizzle, we came away satisfied, which is quite a feat.

Our first stop on the coast was the town of Split, known for its incredibly well-preserved Roman ruins.  The highlight is Diocletian's Palace, built by the emperor in the third century A.D.  The lure of the almighty dollar (or Kuna, as it were) seems to be winning out over the prudence of protection, as the palace is stuffed full of restaurants and vendors.  Regardless, it was beautifully lit and peaceful at night.  At dinner in Split, we did some community service by singing "Hit the Road, Jack" for our waitress's daughter.  This worked out in our favor, as the restaurant quickly plied us with free glasses of wine to induce us to stop crowing.

From Split, we took a ferry to the island of Hvar, drawn by its reputation for 2724 hours of sunshine per year (yeah, really).  The morning was crystal clear in Split, but degenerated on the boat ride, much to our chagrin.  Hvar Town, as is the case for many Croatian coastal towns, is surrounded by walls built by the Venetians to keep out invaders.  The town also has an impressive Venetian fortress perched on a high hill, which yielded expansive views of the old town, pristine sea, and surrounding islands.  As with the rest of our time on the coast, it was too cold to swim, but the rocky beaches and turquoise water looked quite inviting.  Because it is late in the season, the town was very quiet
, an omen of things to come.

From Hvar, we took a boat to the island of Korcula, the birthplace of Marco Polo.  This town too was eerily quiet, which was great for playing a rousing game of Marco Polo (what else?), but made finding food challenging.  It became apparent that as time wore on and we got further from the beaten path, services would be harder to come by.

Undeterred, we forged on to the island of Miljet, home to a National Park of the same name.  The weather was stunning as we pulled in as the only two passengers aboard the catamaran ferry built to hold hundreds.  We were delighted to find solitude and oblivious of all the evidence piling up in front of us.  Little did we know as we stepped onto the deserted street in the town of Polace that this would become our prison over the next few days.
 

Unexpectedly, we were not greeted at the boat by the usual throngs of lodging peddlers.  In a town with one street and about 20 buildings, it did not take long to find the tourist info office, which was extremely closed.  Hmmm...maybe this was going to be more challenging than anticipated.  A bit of wandering past shuttered hotels and restaurants put us in front of the town's lone open business, a mini mart with dust-covered wares.  Inside, a local woman who would soon be affectionately known as "Old Bat" jumped up upon spying our conspicuous backpacks and offered us a room.  Delighted by the calm of the sea and setting sun (not to mention the lack of other options), we forgot to ask if the room had heat.

 The next day, we woke to find a thick mass of dark clouds dropping a torrent on the island.  The temperature had plummeted and our vision of hiking in the park all day was quickly dashed.  Luckily Tom Clancy writes long books, since we got a lot of reading time while huddled under the covers in our winter coats and hats in our furnace-free room.  The rain broke briefly in the afternoon, so we "borrowed" some bikes from a rental shop closed for the season and tooled around the hilly island enough to verify that we truly were the only tourists there.  Returning to town, we got our first inkling that we would not be leaving the next morning as planned, since the scheduled ferry never arrived.

That night, the rain transformed into a full blown tempest of streaking lightening and booming thunder.  The sea was even choppier the next day, so as we waited longingly for the ferry that never came, we got to engage our creative abilities to pass the time.  Our small apartment bore witness to endless cribbage duels, one-on-one charades, a fitness bootcamp on the balcony, and the two of us creating crossword puzzles for each other on the back of cereal boxes.  Evening provided another opportunity to create a magical spaghetti dinner from the mini mart's aged stores.

Thoroughly afflicted with cabin fever, we walked out into the rain at 4:45 the next morning, determined to take matters into our own hands.  The 5am bus rumored to run on the island (the only one of the day) did not materialize, so we put on our best hitchhiking smiles.  After successfully packing ourselves into the back of a tiny hatchback, we arrived in a town whose ferry had been stuck in port by the storms.  Much to the delight of all of us trying to escape the island, the operators decided to brave the still-surly sea and delivered us safely to the mainland.  In retrospect, we were only marooned for three nights, but it cost us the chance to make our planned excursion into Montenegro.  Luckily, that leaves us something to do on our next Around the World trip.

No visit to Croatia would be complete without a trip to the charming walled city of Dubrovnik, the so -called pearl of the Adriatic.  Here we were blessed with a break in the weather that allowed us to walk atop the walls that circumnavigate the old town.  This afforded us comprehensive views of the city's red-tiled roofs, narrow stone streets, and formidable defensive fortifications.  For the delight of our faithful readers, we even took a cheesy senior picture shot suitable for framing (below).  We also had the pleasure of renting a room over-looking the walls from an elderly woman who we dubbed "Aunt".  The only English word in her vocabulary was "please", which delivered us many hilarious conversations consisting of various charades and a repeated drone of "please, please, please....".

 

 

 

From Dubrovnik, we turned north again, braving bus rides along what has recently been rated the world's fifth most dangerous stretch of road.  We reconnected with our old friend the sun and spent a couple days meandering along the stunning cliffs that make up the coastline on our way back to Split.  We spent nights in the cities of Makarska and Trogir, each of which has its own incredible collection of aging stone walls and cavernous churches.  One simple highlight was stumbling upon a flat that had free laundry, which everyone stuck on public transport with us since has greatly appreciated. 

 

From Croatia, we flew to London, where we're exploring and taking care of some administrative tasks.  You'll get a full report soon and then we're off to Asia!