wandering about the earth

Caleta Tortel, the hanging city

2011-02-05T06:47:00.000-08:00

I spent a couple days in Coyhaique, taking one day to go by bus to Puerto Chacabu to eat fish and photograph abandoned boats in the harbor. On the way I met a backpacker from Santiago who I had an interesting conversation with using an i phone translation AP. I must get an i phone! Next stop was Cochrane, and early the next morning I was on my way again hitchhiking to Caleta Tortel, the hanging village. Caleta Tortel is a very old village with houses built on the steep hillsides that drop directly into the ocean. There are no roads and the village is accessed by a series of boardwalks. The weather here is horrible, windy and rainy all the time with the wind blowing straight through the flimsy wood walls of the buildings. Perched as it is over the water, it is a place that should be charming but I could not actually wait to get away the next morning. Perhaps I was sick of the cold and rain, or maybe I found the impermanence of the place unsettling, but overall it was a bit of a depressing place to be, so it was with relief that I found myself early the next morning out on the road again with my thumb in the air.

There are no roads and the whole town is reached by a series of boardwalks built over the water or steeply climbing up the hills.

Nothing is built to last in Caleta Tortel and the elements quickly take their toll on the flimsy wood construction. I liked the flowered sheet hanging in the window of this home.

An old boardwalk goes into ruin.

Hats hang in front of the window of a tourist shop that seems to be abandoned.

Puerto Chacabu, near Coyhaique.

Carretera Austral, Chaiten to Coyhaique.

2011-01-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

I was confused about the bus schedule leaving Chaiten, and so finally decided to hitchhike. Soon I was on my way in a Chilean police car. That evening I finally reached the strange, silent little town of La Hunta. All the hostals have matching wooden signs out front, and all are closed. Door after door I knock until finally one opens for me. Next I go in search of food and it is the same story. Finally in one resturant a women opens the door. "No food here but I will take you" she tells me and then drives me to her mothers house, who fed me a meal of carne, potatoe salad, and crepes for desert. Next morning I am headed to puyuhuapi, but change my mind at the last minute to go instead to Villa Amengual, where there is a big festival with a rodeo and concert. The town is unindated with Chilean travelers and I make the first use of my tent, setting it up in the yard of someone's house with 100 others. The rodeo starts that afternoon. It is mostly talk, with the announcer going on for 10 minutes and then finally a guy gets on a poor horse and tries to stay on for 8 seconds. This goes on for hours. Later that night is the concert, a popular Chilean band who fuses modern with traditional sounds and instruments. Next morning I join the hordes of other hitchhikers leaving the town. Traveling solo, I quickly secure my first of 4 rides that finally bring me to Coyhaique where I spend two days relaxing and preparing for the rest of my journey south.

Carretera Austral, Under a Smoking Volcano

2011-01-17T15:30:00.001-08:00

As I was waiting to board the ferry, I learned that Chaiten was badly damaged by a huge volcanic blast from a mountain that had previously been unknown as a volcano. The people where just begining to return, and water and power was being restored but barely. And, oh yes, the volcano was still smoking. And so what do I decide to do? Jump off the boat and on a bus and flee as fast as possible? No, instead I volunteered for three days to help a group of scientists with an ongoing study that is looking at the rate of recovery of the badly damaged forests in the area. At this time, the study is looking only at insects (larger animals have not begun to return yet) and my job for the next three days is to help set up pitfall traps, essentially plastic cups filled with antifreeze (to preserve the unlucky insects) and set level with the ground under a protective board covering. The traps were set up in areas representative of various levels of damage, plus undamaged rainforest as a control. I struggled over massive tree falls and densly foliated undamaged rainforest, was serenaded by a huge variety of birds, bitten by hoards of biting flies, photographed stunning flowers, and had my blood sucked by a leech. The highlight was climbing through undamaged rainforest up a steep hill to where a tree grew up and out from the hill in such a way that you could walk out on it and be eye level with the canopy and the birds. All together it was another fabulous unplanned exerience, and part of what continues to draw me to traveling in the way that I do.

Arrival on the ferry to Chaiten

The mountain on the right is not the volcano, but the shape of the mountain looks a bit suspicious considering.

Massive destruction of previously dense rainforest

On the third summer, life is returning and the brightness of the green is amazing as it fights its way through thick grey ash.

A close up of the flowers growing up the tree in the top photo. Trees that are sheared of their branches become a home to fresh vines and actually begin to grow fresh branches.

Bamboo starts to grow new shoots

Mosses and lichens find small niches to begin growing

Destruction of homes around the water, where ash floods inundated them

Still people return to Chaiten and begin to rebuild their lives.

The volcano looms overhead, still smoking as a reminder and a warning

Puerto Varas, Chile

2011-01-07T14:45:00.000-08:00

After a bit of time off from traveling I planned an escape from the cold Alaska winter by flying into summertime in Patagonia. All together I will spend one and a half months in Chile and ten days in Bolivia. I arrived in Santiago, which is a very nice city, but not caring for cities, I rushed off in a southernly direction. A very comfortable night bus brought me to my first stopping point, Puerta Varas, where I spent two days relaxing, socializing, and planning the next step of the journey. The most popular way to Southern Patagonia from there is a 48 hour bus ride which takes a route through Argentina. However, I was very intriqued by the less traveled route which combines ferrys, buses, hitchhiking, and finally even walking across the border at Villa O Higgons, the most southernly place you can get to in Chile before the roads end and subsequently reconnect through Argentina in the southern Patagonia of all the photos. I was a bit nervous about trying this route, as I heard it is difficult and you can get stuck for days, and I also knew if I tried it that I would need to find a tent. As luck would have it I ran into two Italian guys at the hostel that evening who not only encouraged me to try it, but where also looking to offload their tent. I then needed to wait one more day to get the ferry which would take me to my first stop along the route, Chaiten. And so finally I was on my way to new adventure.

The Quiet Life

2010-05-09T23:38:00.000-07:00

Canvasback in flight

Well, it's been a while since I posted last. I guess that's what happens when you are staying home and life gets a bit boring. Summer is finally rolling around and it has been a beautiful one so far. I am spending my time climbing, hiking in the mountains, and photographing birds. Life should get a little more interesting soon, however. I've landed a job with the Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game for the summer, and will spend July and August working in a remote field camp on the Susitna river sampling and tagging salmon. And as usual, I am cooking up more travel schemes. I am not sure where to go yet, but if anyone has any ideas what's nice in January... was thinking maybe Patagonia, Central America, or...

Here are a few bird photos, although I am sure the guy next to me with the two foot long lens got better ones than me!

Arctic terns

Trumpeter swans

Bluebill, or greater scaup

Canadian geese

Goldeneye in flight

Denali NP

2009-10-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

Sand hill cranes fly in front of Denali as the fog rolls in.

A couple months ago, I heard about the Denali NP lottery and mentioned to Tim that it would be cool buy a slot. "Oh, yeah, I heard about that. It's too late to sign up this year" he told me. A few weeks later he emailed me the winners list-we where on it! So on Sept. 21 Tim, my grandfather, and I were up at 6:00am to drive the 90 or so mile park road into the pristine Alaskan wilderness with Denali looming over.

It was not far into our drive that I learned just how pristine this wilderness is kept! We had pulled over to the side of the road and I disappeared into the brush with my trash bag and toilet paper when a ranger pulled over. And watched me. No privacy here! Then followed me. "umm, mam, did you get it all?" he asked. "Are you sure?" I thought he was going to look in the bag! Jesus, I actually can't think of anything that we leave laying around that would be more natural!

So, quite embarrassed but laughing, I got back in the car and we headed off deeper into the park. Soon we turned a corner, and there she was, Denali looming ahead! We got lucky that day. By 11:00 am the mountains had fogged in and obscured the mountains, but before that we had about an hour and a half to enjoy the views. On the return drive we saw 8 bears, 3 caribou, 1 coyote, numerous mountain sheep including two nice rams close up, a moose, 4 golden eagles, and lots of snow shoe hares. That night it snowed about a foot.

Denali from Petersville

Denali from Eilson visitors center

Hiking above the clouds

A Morrocan Mountain Market

2009-09-23T20:43:00.000-07:00

Desolation in the Sahara

2009-09-01T13:58:00.001-07:00

Dunes stretch out as far as the eye can see in the Mauritanian Sahara.

Dust storm at the end of the road.

Self portrait in the Sahara

A camel dies in the desert.

Birds

2009-08-15T11:38:00.001-07:00

The Wilson's Warblers are migrating through again; I love watching them. These took about two hours sitting quietly with a tripod.

Wilson's Warbler, female

Wilson's Warbler, male

Junko

A Wilson's Warbler launching into flight

And coming in for a swift landing

Fall, Berries, and Hornets

2009-08-10T12:45:00.000-07:00

It's August; and while most people in this hemisphere are sweltering in the heat, fall has come to Alaska, with a definite chill in the air and the days growing shorter. I saw the moon a few nights ago for the first time that I can remember in months. The berries are ripe and the bears are moving into the mountains to eat them, so I can begin feeding the birds again. I have been picking a few berries myself this year, for making liqueurs rather than for jams and jellies like last year. A great website for liqueur recipes is here. Currents are my favorite, and sometimes you have to suffer a bit to get them, like the other day when I stepped on a hornets nest.

Having finished picking, I climbed to the top of the steep hill for the view and was just starting to make my way down when I felt a sharp pain on my pinky finger. I raised my hand and watched in shock as the hornet sitting there continued to dig its stinger in me. Tim always tells me "don't swat at them or they'll sting you" so for a moment I did nothing, those words ringing in my ears (don't swat, don't swat, what should I do, oh no, don't swat). Suddenly it occurred to me that the little bastard already was stinging me, and it hurt! I swatted him off and it was only then that I noticed I was being stung in the arm and shoulder and leg and a small swarm was forming around me. With a girly scream I began running down the steep, slippery hill, falling face first, tripping, sliding on my heels, and sliding on my butt the whole way down. You probably never saw me get down a hill so fast! But, I manged to keep my berries the whole way down! At the bottom, I stopped to breathe a sigh of relief, having outran the swarm. It was about then that the hornets got in the last word-one that had been stuck under my pack finally made his way to the center of my back where he decided to give me a parting shot!

Yesterday I processed about half of the berries into a triple recipe of current liqueur. I sure will enjoy it once its ready!

Bear food

2009-07-17T23:44:00.001-07:00

Click to enlarge and check out his paw on the window!

We emptied the bird seed and rehung the feeder. This fat bear knows what a feeder is! He licked out the remaining residue. The feeder is in the garage now!

Mauritania Fish Market

2009-07-01T02:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry its been so long since my last update. Well, I have been doing what most Alaskans do during our short summers: frantically enjoying every minute of warm weather that I can!

Here are more photos from Mauritania. What a colorful country that was, with lots of new sights! Nothing was more colorful than the fish market near the capital, Nouakchott.

About 4:00 every evening the small, brightly painted, wooden fishing boats begin coming back to beach, loaded with fishermen, and hopefully, fish. After dragging the boats ashore, men in rain gear begin running back and forth with crates of fish balanced on their heads, dodging small boys along the way who jump up and try to snatch a fish or two from the overflowing baskets. The boys are not the only ones who try to get a meal to bring home; the runners themselves often try to hide a fish, or two, or three by stuffing it into the papers lining the bottom of the crates.

The beach itself is lined with a few thousand of the tiny, gailey painted boats. Muscular men and boys play in the surf without shirts, while women wade out fully clothed in long, flowing traditional dresses. Nearby is a small fish market; long covered benches piled high with the days catch are the focus of attention for hundreds of people shouting and bargaining. All around colorfully dressed people wander, work, shop, fish, and play.

Nouakchott fish market

Bringing a boat to beach

A man takes a quick break, leaning against a boat.

A woman watches over her families fish at the Nouakchott fish market

A truck loaded and headed for other markets

A fish runner

A man bringing home some fish from the beachside market

This little boy is in the midst of the fish market action, tied by his ankle to a pole by the red cloth you see in the right of the photo.

Men in the traditional long flowing blue robes.

Baskets of fish atop a car

Beach Side Fish Market

Playing games beside the beach

Morocco, Moving South

2009-05-08T11:53:00.000-07:00

My first day in Morocco, eating a big fish plate in Casablanca.

Heading south along the coast I passed through El Jadida. It was here that I first began to notice that the men were. . . well, a little strange! I really wish I had taken a photo of P0rn Man!

An old underground cistern in El Jadida

Fishing boats in El Jadida

Colorful fish in the fish market of Essouiria

Moroccan Viagra in the market at Essouiria. Yeah, right, like they need that!

I am starting into the Southern Territories now, and beginning to feel as if I am reaching the ends of the earth.

A fishermans shack by the coast. The roof is held on with fishing nets.

Fish is served fried up whole, heads, eyes, and all.

The lady of the house serving up tea. I stayed with this family for two days after turning down P0rn mans offer.

A neighborhood to be in Layounne. The earth is all brown and dusty here.

Dahkla, the end of the road. To the East about 400 KM is Mauritania.

More brown, and old land mine signs, on the way to the Mauritanian border.

A fisherman serves up tea in his tiny tent by the beach. I am on my way back to Dahkla here, having hitchhiked a ride across the border.

Preview

2009-05-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

Sunrise over dunes that stretch forever, Sahara

Sunset at an oasis in the Sahara desert of Mauritania

An oasis I backpacked to in Mauritania

It has been a while since I wrote last. I traveled back through Morocco, spent 5 days in Madrid, and then came home and have been super busy ever since. The first week back I was recovering from "lots of African germs" as my grandfather put it, the following week was busy with job search, and then I just arrived home today from this weeks gallivant around Alaska, now that things are starting to thaw up. So I am quickly uploading these photos as a preview to the final Africa report, and letting everyone know that I have not been kidnapped by one of those horrible, ignorant, horny Moroccan men. (See porn Man and the men who chase)

Speaking of which, my last days in morocco had a small experience that was a fitting finale for my time there. As I was exploring the narrow, winding alleys of the Fez Medina, a man sidled up to me. Looking around, he judged when the crowds were out of ear shot enough to whisper to me "want Berber massage? wanna have fun? want sex?" I yelled at him "Get the FUCK away from me!"
"OK" he says in a cheerfull tone, and leaves. So accommodating these men are!

Return From the Desert

2009-03-24T13:03:00.000-07:00

I am alive and well and returned to Morocco from my travels to the end of the world in the heart of the Mauritanian Sahara desert. In one word, it was AMAZING! I ran alone in the cool mornings through the desert and slept under shooting stars on sand dunes and in perfect oasis surrounded by trickling water and glow worms. I lived for a short time with a peaceful desert family and trekked up and down plateaus looking at ancient petroglyphs. I cooked, relaxed, thought, talked with other travelers, and siesta'd during the hot afternoons. Finally, I hitchhiked from the police post back across the border to Morocco the day before my visa in Mauritania expired, and also my 35th birthday. I will write more when I return home and can upload my photos.

Some notes from Chinguetti, mid March:

I sit here watching the mice come out of the kitchen and the spaces in the stone wall to eat from the dog's bowl of rotten scraps and amazingly I am not bothered by it. The kitchen is full of mice, bold ones that come out all hours of the day. One jumped out of a pot I grabbed and landed on my arm in broad daylight. What Cher needs for his auberge is a cat, not a damn dog! My first days here another traveler, Kevin, and I removed everything from the kitchen and cleaned years worth of mouse shit-important because we are doing most of our own cooking. Cooking without refrigeration, which means going to the market before each meal, a task fortunately done mostly by Cher. Cher, who watched questioningly while we scrubbed his kitchen and whom I told he needed a wife. He did not agree, and said that women talk to much! A few days after scrubbing down the kitchen, Kevin waged war on a mouse that was invading his room night and day. During my siesta one afternoon I suddenly heard Quebec French curses from the hut next door. Something like "Stab ah neck". Shortly after, Kevin came and showed me his kill, which he held dangling by it's tail; he had jumped on the mouse.

What I am trying to get at is that Africa is a bit more difficult of a place to travel than other places I have been. I laugh now when I think of how I traveled all through Asia and other parts of the world checking the sheets for cleanliness!! WOW, what a wussy I was!! In the whole of Mauritania I have not seen a sheet, much less a clean one, only grubby mats that are tossed onto the ground of a dusty tent or rustic hut. If you are unlucky enough to not have a sleeping bag, you will be tossed an even grubbier, dustier blanket. Fortunately, a kindly soul I met in Nouakchott, Ibrahim, has lent me a bag. And even more fortunately I have ceased to be bothered by these things (this written as I pick a fly out of the milk I am drinking, milk that has sat overnight on the counter). All this actually contributes to the experience of being here in the heart of the desert, in a place that feels like the end of the earth, in a place full of open space, in a place where nature still reigns supreme and the people must be gritty and self-sufficient, in a place that reminds you just how little you actually need to live in this world.

Mauritania

2009-02-22T05:00:00.000-08:00

Mauritania! I love the energy of this place, the colors, the action. I am heading to Chenguetti tomarrow and then hopefully off into the Sahara on a camel, so no internet for a few weeks. I will be looking for petroglyphs, of which there are several known areas around. I have not yet found an internet with good anti-virus so have not uploaded any photos. I hope I can find a place to upload them before I do another long post so I can share everything through photos as well as words. Check back in three weeks or so.

Into Mauritania

2009-02-18T04:47:00.000-08:00

Heading into the heart of the South Saharan territory really does feel as if you are going to the end of the earth. The landscape is dry, bleak, but beautiful. On one side is the deep turquoise of the ocean. On the other is a vast, empty landscape of brown. Scrub brush dots some areas and then gives way to rock and sand. Here and there are buttes and towering sand dunes. The sun is relentless and the wind a constant sculpting force. Occasionally, next to the ocean, a fisherman's hut stands in defiance against the harshness of the land. They are made of anything that the inhabitants can get their hands on; scrap wood, mud bricks, plastic, fabric, and are held together with fishing nets stretched over it all.

Every 100 kilometers or so is a military checkpoint. This is still disputed territory, but currently occupied by Morocco after a UN brokered cease fire in 1991. UN presence is still heavy here. At each stop I show my passport and answer the question " What is your job". "Estudiante" I answer, although I probably am getting a bit old to say that! After Tan Tan, it is 9 or so hours to the next stop, Layounne. Here I am again invited to stay with a family that I meet on the bus. The hospitality is amazing. Mom wants me to go to the Hammam and get my hands decorated with henna with her but I have already purchased my bus ticket for the next day. "on my way back through, Inshallah" I tell her. We feast on a traditional Moroccan Cous Cous dish which I have watched being prepared. The women give me gifts-a ring and the traditional Moroccan gown to sleep in.

The next day is another 9 hours to Dahkla, located on a peninsula surrounded by ocean. I have taken the government run bus this time, which is more comfortable but also a bit more boring. It takes me to the door of my hotel, where reservations have already been made for me. I have the room just next to the reception so that an eye can be kept on me; this hotel, like most in this town, is full of men. The bathrooms are shared and my long gown for sleeping comes in handy. I really must get a pee bottle! The hotel management helps me arrange transport for the border the next day.

To the border is more sand, more rock, more desolation. It is almost 400 kilometers and the journey to Noudabou in Mauritania ultimately takes nine hours. I share the taxi with a Mauritanian woman and a Moroccoan man. As we get closer to the border, I begin to see lone military standing straight and tall on the higher vantage points in the desert, surrounded by nothingness. At Moroccan customs there is one checkpoint after another.
"Passporta"
"What ees your joba?"
At one checkpoint the officials hand me an orange.
It takes several hours to go through this five or six times. Finally we pass through a gate in the razor wire. Here the road stops. For the next two kilometers there is a maze of dirt tracks through the desert. The tracks are littered on either side with rusted out car shells, trash, and land mines. A group of 'guides' wait in their cars for hire to help you find your way to the Mauritanian checkpoint. Our driver has done this route many times and races past the guides before slowing down to crawl our way to the Mauritanian checkpoint. Here, we only have to stop one time and then we are headed to Noudabou and another part of the journey is complete.

Porn man and the men who chase.

2009-02-15T09:15:00.000-08:00

Essoiria is a town of souvenir shops. Everywhere you walk "Mademoiselle" "bonjour" "just look" etc. etc. If you make the mistake of stopping you are sucked in. I stopped in one shop. I couldn't help it. The proprietor was beautiful, in long black robes and a huge black turban with the ends loose and flowing down on either side of him. He spoke decent English so I finally got to ask the question I have been wanting to ask someone since day one.
"Moroccan men, what are they thinking when they chase me down the street?"
He is embarrassed and plays dumb.
"What? What is this you say they do? They chase you? What then, do they want to talk to you?"
"Yes, they run down the street after me and want to talk. What are they thinking?" I persist.
"Oh, they must love you" he tells me.
I should really feel bad now for embarrassing him, but I can't stop.
"But do they run after Moroccan women"
"No" he concedes, and I let him be after that, as he is a healthy shade of pink.

After a day in Essouria I can't wait to get out. The plush bus does not leave until four and arrives at my next destination in the middle of the night, so I jump on the local bus at noon. I am headed for the Southern Frontier, from where I hope to be able to hitch a ride into Mauritania. This 11 hour bus journey will take me about 1/3 of the way. It is stiflingly hot and the seats don't recline but I am happy to be leaving the main tourist track. I am surrounded by men in turbans and robes and women in stylish jackets and hijabs or long flowing folds of fabric draped over them head to toe. Out the window the landscape is getting dryer and more rural. A pretty young woman in a black hijab smiles at me and gives me some food. Later she blows me a kiss. All is good until Algider. Here, the bus empties and waits for an hour to refill before continuing to Tan Tan.

Enter Porn Man.

The man who has sat next to me is watching cartoon clips on his phone. A minute later,I happen to glance over and he has his hand curled around the phone, trying to block the view as he watches it intently. Unfortunately, I still see it.
A woman is sprawled out naked behind a foot long schlong, which is the main focal point in the video. Freaking disgusting - I am sitting next to Porn Man. I decide then and there that if he touches me I will launch him from his seat.

We eventually make a stop for dinner at a row of roadside cafes. Porn man waves me over. He has ordered food for us and pats the chair next to him. I ignore the chair and take the one kitty corner, moving it even further away from him. As we eat I show him my wedding ring and inform him that my husband will be joining me in Morocco soon.

After dinner it comes. I knew it would. Moroccan men are very forward, and fast.

I should not go to Tan Tan. Tan Tan is no good, but Gourmime, where he lives, is very nice.
He has a very nice house in Gourmime and I should stay with him.
And finally, the icing on the cake; he is not married.
Said with a really disgusting, porn style, suggestive look.
I decline and go to find the toilet.
Back on the bus, I have seen a sign informing me that Gourmime is 30 km away. I am sitting turned towards the window and with my coat shoved down between Porn Man and myself.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me.
"Gourmime 5 km"
Porn man begins to elbow me gently.
"Gourmime 2 km"
Porn Man elbows me harder. He is getting desperate. I glare quickly at him and look away before I can see make out what he is mouthing to me in his disgusting way. I already know.
Gourmime finally; and a dejected Porn Man alights from the bus.

...

At midnight the bus arrives in Tan Tan. Men are loitering all around. One jumps in front of me to try and talk. I avoid him and see the two women who where sitting behind me looking for a taxi. I join them and they invited me to stay at their home. This time I accept the invitation. Hakimas mother welcomes me to the family home with a kiss on each cheek and I end up staying two days with Hakima and her family before continuing south.

Arrived

2009-02-09T10:58:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Morocco yesterday, after two nights of travel, with one night spent trying to sleep in the Seattle airport and the next in a hotel in Madrid. I had planned on trying to fly directly to Burkina but the tickets where astronomically priced-for a foreigner at least-about 600 dollars for one way. This was the "special price, for you" that the Royal Air Mark guy promised me. So I am traveling south by land and will go into Mauritania, possibly Mali and Burkino if there is time.

After my failed bid for airline tickets I headed into Casablanca and immediately wished I had taken the train further on. Casablanca is too big of a city to start out with! This morning I was up at 6:00 AM and had to wake the hotel proprietor to give me the keys for the shower room. Then I was off to the train station where I happily waited an hour and a half for the next train to El Jadida, a much smaller and more manageable town by the ocean with an old walled section and twisty, narrow alleys.

In the evening things get really lively. It seems everyone leaves their homes to wander (women and men), shop (mostly women), drink tea in teahouses (men only), and loiter in the streets (men only again-huge groups of them). A lot of the younger men here are dressed over the top-fancy leather jackets, tight decorated jeans, and highly polished, pointed leather shoes or boots. It's a bit funny to see groups of them hanging out; it reminds me a bit of the movie Greece. As I pass often they will say things to me in French. Well, not knowing much more than a word of French I have no idea what they saying, unless it is bonjour (often it starts with that), but I can imagine where it goes from there. I have to ignore them or they will get encouraged and follow me! I have other problems, too, not knowing any of the language, mainly buying things. Most of today I have just been holding out a hand full of coins or a few small bills and let them take what they want! It seems to be working pretty well; for lunch today-which was a huge meal of a sort of stew cooked in a clay pot called Tajine, fresh baked bread, and lentils cooked in curry and cumin-I held out about 4 dollars of local currency and received about one and a half back in change!

Morocco and Beyond

2009-01-31T22:40:00.000-08:00

I am headed to Morocco in less than a week! From here, I will probably travel further south into West Africa-maybe Mauritania, Mali, and Burkino Faso. Burkino Faso, you ask? My spell checker does not even recognize it!It is a pretty impromptu trip. Two weeks ago I decided to see if I could get an airlines mileage ticket after watching a movie that took place in Morocco, and I could-so I did! Fortunately I already have almost every vaccination known to man-only had to get stuck twice this time. The biggest decision now is which camera to bring. The small lightweight camera that I used on all my other trips, or the nice new one with the big lens I barely know how to use? Oh, how to decide?!

A New Direction

2009-01-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

Thank God eight years of G. W. Bush is finally over!
YEAH!
YEAH!
It is my hope that Obama will point us in a much needed, new direction, especially in foreign policy. He certainly has his work cut out for him! I am glad America finally stood up and said "we need change!" And I am more hopeful about our future than I have been in a long time.

Poster seen in Peru

The Year in Review

2008-12-30T14:30:00.000-08:00

2008 has been a good year, with lots of new experiences and good times. We finished our trip around the world, moved back to Alaska, and floated the Grand Canyon with my whole family. As the new year comes up right around the corner, I am having a difficult time figuring out what to do in 2009. I suppose it will all unfold as the time moves by!

Here is 2008 in Review. I wish everyone a New Year full of wonderful and surprising experiences!

January, 2008 I spent traveling through Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia by myself, without a guide book. It was a great way to travel and I ended up in some pretty off-the-wall places as well as some well known ones reccommended by other travelers. This photo was taken during sunset at Angkor Wat, which was one of the amazing places I was able to see.

February, 2008 I met up with my grandfather and uncle at my mothers home in New Zealand on the South Island. My grandfather and I spent some time touring the North Island first, where I learned to drive on the right side of the road and managed to completely terrify my grandfather:
"Yarrow, you're too far over. You are going to go in the ditch."
"Yarrow, you almost hit that car"
"Yarrow, you are on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!"Or was that the right side of the road?

March 2008 I met up with Tim in Argentina and we traveled to Igazu Falls, and then through Paraguay and Uruguay. I turned 34 queitly as we where taking an all day bus journey across Paraguay.

April 2008 was spent in Peru, seeing Macchu Picchu (of course) and then heading down south to see my favorite thing . . . petroglyphs, at Toro Muerto. On the way we visited Amanti Island, where life was still going on much as it has for 1000's of years.

May 2008, was spent trekking around Huaraz, Peru, before moving up into Ecuador where we stayed under a smoking volcano ("no big deal" the kids told me) and took steaming hot mud treatments inside a giant box.

June, 2008 we were back in the United States for the first time in over a year. We flew in to Pheonix, bought a car, and drove to Alaska. I can remember being shocked by how convenient everything was in the US, and also by how many God-awful big box stores there were. Do we ever have some ugly architecture!

July, 2008 we arrived back in Alaska mid-June-just in time to enjoy the coldest, dreariest summer on record. That's OK-I still loved it!

August, 2008 was still cold!

September, 2008 was a month for gathering wood for winter, watching the moose rut, picking berries, and watching the fall colors.

October 2008 came in with angel dust in the mountains and went out with a wind storm featuring winds of 100 miles per hour. Lots of trees, roofs, power lines, and anything else laying around was taken out.

November 2008 the entire family went down to Arizona to do a 25 day raft trip of the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. The weather was spectacular-warm and clear-and we spent most nights sleeping out under the stars watching meteors streaking the sky.

December, 2008 is back in Alaska for the holidays. We have lots of snow this year and-go figure-it's cold! Minus 15 degrees today but with all the wood we chopped throughout the summer it's nice and warm in the house.

Winter Solstice

2008-12-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

December 21st, the shortest day of the year, gets less than 6 hours of daylight in Anchorage. But what beautiful daylight it is! We spent the afternoon chasing the sun up bird ridge, had a few drinks at the Brown Bear with friends, and then watched this fabulous sunset along the inlet before having dinner with the family. And starting tomorrow, we get a few more minutes of light each day!

Grand Canyon: 25 days in the rift

2008-12-19T12:21:00.000-08:00

On the 8th of Nov, after many years on a wait list and several months of frantic preparation, Tim and I flew to Arizona for a 25 day raft trip of the Grand Canyon with our family and five people we had never met before. After meeting and unloading on the 10th, the actual river trip would begin on the 11th at Lee's ferry and end 25 days and 225 miles downstream at the Diamond Creek pull out.

That first day of setup went by in a blur of activity and confusion; unloading and pumping up boats, loading coolers, a kitchen, a Porto toilet, and all our personal gear. And then there were all the questions to be answered; who wants what boat? Where the hell is everything? How do you use and set up all this gear? And in the back of our minds, who is this handful of strangers that we will be on the river with for the next 25 days?

From left to right; Amber, Barney, Carl, Patricia, Ryan, Clint (in orange), Sandra and Yarrow (sitting), Gene (in the cowboy hat), Tim, Kimmer, Theta, Dick, and David.

We planned for an early start on the 11th, but disaster struck before sunrise! My uncle, Barney, ran into a cable in the dark and injured his back. He is not sure if he will make it or not, but we have to get down the river that day per park regulations. He spends the day laying down, well medicated, and my stepfather, David, treats him with acupuncture. Finally by midday we leave with Gene rowing Barney's boat to the closest campsite we can stay at, about six miles down river.

Fortunately, the next day Barney is starting to feel better and is ready to row the first big rapid of the river, House Rock. We reach House Rock about midway through the day and, having never been on a river like this before, I take one look at the raging current and big holes and decide that I am absolutely going to die. I grab my big sunglasses and slap them on my face to hide my tears of terror and jump into the boat with David, who has rowed the GC three times. Carl and David go through House Rock first, and then, still very much alive, we pull into the eddy to watch the others go through. Clint, with Tim in the boat, goes through pretty smooth. Then Ryan, who is rowing a big river for the first time ever, goes through and nearly gets buried in one of the holes, but manages to pull out of it OK. Barney follows last and somehow gets spun around backwards, but also pulls through. Seeing that it can actually be done, I am feeling much better now about the whole rapid thing.

Ryan in the House Rock hole.

Grabbing for the oars

Barney headed down backwards.

That evening when we pull into camp, we begin the routine that continues throughout the trip; setting up camp, dinner, and then sitting around the fire pan where Amber keeps us laughing most of the night and a competition begins between the pyromaniacs of the group to see who can pile on the most wood. In the beginning of the trip my mother, Carl, and I are the contenders, but by the end of the trip, Ryan, who according to his girlfriend, Amber, had never burned much more then one of those yuppie fire logs before, comes out as the clear winner of the title "King Pyromaniac".

Theta sitting in front of a fire that is just getting started for the night, with the wood pile behind him.

A few days into the trip we stop for our first layover day at Nankoweep where we can see the granaries left behind by the Anasazi about 900 years ago, and also hike up to the rim to see a boulder covered with petroglyphs. On this boulder is one of the most interesting Kokopellis that I have seen. We eventually have 5 or 6 layover days on the trip, all centered around hiking up beautiful side canyons or onto the rim of the canyon. All throughout the trip there was a meteor shower which made sleeping under the stars especially amazing as we watched blazes of light streak across the sky.

Little Nankoweep Kokopelli

Nankoweep Granaries

After House Rock, the rapids continued to come along along fast and furious, and every day we went through several. In one of the smaller rapids, Carl decides to play a trick on his passengers, Sandra and Theta, and jumps out of the boat with them talking away on the seat in front of him. It took them a while to notice that they were alone in the boat, and when they finally do, after doing several double takes, Theta jumps on the oars as the boat was heading for the canyon walls. He gets the boat through the waves and Carl eventually swam back to the boat and got back in.

We were lucky throughout the trip to have no flips, but three other people also ended up swimming, although not purposely like Carl. In Serpentine rapid, Ryan's boat tilted up on it's side and he was ejected from the boat. He was able to get back in quickly. My mom and David were not quite as lucky in Sapphire. My mother was sitting on top of the wood pile that they had gathered into the back of the boat for that evening's fire when David, not paying attention, took the boat through a big hole sideways and it tilted completely on its side. They were both tipped from the boat, and the entire wood pile fell on top of my mother, many pieces of which landed on her head! The boat came back down, right side up, but landed with my mom and David underneath it. Eventually they were able to get out from underneath, but while my mom was able to grab onto the boat, David was immediately sucked down into a hole. Barney watched all this from down below on the river and as the boat drifted down the river towards him he had Gene row to intersect it. At the right moment he jumped into the boat and pulled my mom back in, while David, who had eventually been spit out of the hole, swam towards the boat and, exhausted, was pulled in as well. After this near disaster, we were all a little more careful!

All too soon, the river started to mellow out again as we came closer and closer to our pull out at Diamond Creek and the end of the trip. On our second to last night came the moment we had waited for the whole trip; Bacon Bomb! Having saved our bacon grease in a metal can for the entire trip, we put the can in the fire to heat. Once it was boiling, we used another can attached to the end of a long stick to pour in some water and watch the grease explosion!

Our last night on the river, we all stayed up a little later and wished the trip could last a little longer. It was amazing to have spent so much time away from civilization, rowing and hiking and sleeping under the stars at night. It makes you realize how little we really need in life to survive and be satisfied!

Inner Granite Gorge-the oldest exposed rock in North America

On one of our hikes a few of us used a rope to get down into the narrows of Deer Creek

At Havasu, with it's blue, blue water.

David (left run) and Carl (right run) through Horn Rapid.

Home again

2008-12-10T19:38:00.000-08:00

Tim and I just returned from a month long trip rafting down the Grand Canyon. I will write more about it and post some photos soon.

A Blank Ballot

2008-11-05T23:24:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, as I was handed a blank ballot, I felt so happy, so blessed, to live in a country where I have the freedom to vote. In our year and a half spent overseas, my husband and I spent time in many countries where people can't vote. Or if they can vote, the results of these 'elections' are already determined by corruption and intimidation before they even cast their ballot. The people in these countries told us that they did not have opportunity. They did not have freedom of speech. They lived in fear of their government. They had no hope for change. So as I stood in the voting booth with that empty ballot in my hand, it was amazing to me that I was there, holding onto hope. Holding onto the power to bring about change.

Winter rolls in

2008-10-12T22:12:00.000-07:00

Fall in Alaska has come and gone and the long winter has set in, introduced by a night of hurricane force winds that left trees down, roofs blown off homes, and power outages for about 20,000 people around Anchorage. The berries have been made into jam, the moose are in rut with the bigger bulls gathering up the females and chasing off smaller bulls, and it's almost time to vote.

Itchy feet

2008-08-29T12:37:00.000-07:00

After 15 months traveling around the world, it felt pretty good to come home. And, it feels pretty good to be home, but... I'm beginning to get those travelers itchy feet again. Lately, I have taken to pouring over maps and Atlases and drooling over photos of exotic places I haven't been to yet.

What to do? What to do? Oh, Oh, What to do? Well, plan more trips, of course. In fact, our next adventure is only a few months away; in November, we have a private 25 day long whitewater rafting trip planned down the Colorado river in the Grand canyon. Following that, I am beginning to brew up some ideas for another solo backpack through Utah's canyon country. Finally, Tim and I are talking about next fall, using his three weeks vacation time to go to Iran. Why Iran? Well, for the history, the culture, the ancient architecture, the beauty of the landscape. And, of course, because it is someplace we have never been.

In the meantime, we are busy doing what most Alaskans do in the summer; getting ready for winter. Our preparations this year have included lots of wood chopping-our insurance against high fuel costs (which, by the way, are still cheaper than most of the countries we visited throughout the world). And of course we take plenty of time to enjoy the beautiful Alaskan wilderness before another long, cold winter sets in.

View of Turnagain Arm from Penguin Peak

Sleeping lady at sunset

The sun peaks through a border of dark clouds. Glenn Alps trail head.

A black bear watches us hiking up penguin Peak

Ptarmigan

Living in Alaska

2008-07-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

Our Alaska Home

We have been home in Alaska now for close to two months and are settling in nicely. Tim has gotten a job, and I have been spending a lot of my time hiking in the mountains close by. I sleep a lot, a symptom my neighbor calls 'decompression', brought on by the sudden ability to relax after 16 months on the road! We are also planning our next trip in November, a private raft trip down the Grand Canyon with the whole family. Speaking of family, my grandfather made the front page of the newspaper yesterday and there are some videos of him talking about bear encounters, slowing down at 81, and frostbiting his ass in the Arctic online at the Anchorage Daily News website. Here are the links:

Mountain Man:Wilderness Shapes a Life

Griffiths bear encounters

Frost bite in the ass

Slowing down by doing the Alaska Wilderness race?

Photos from Alaska

My uncle running the Bird Ridge race

My grandfather and friend Jerry before the Wilderness race

Bears Among Us

2008-07-11T19:14:00.000-07:00

These are photos I took of a bear wandering through our yard in Alaska. The wilderness is truly just out our back door here! For more on what we have been up to in Alaska, come visit us at my new Alaska blog.

Alaska black bear laying by the deck. Take a close look at his paw!

I love his brown snout. He looks almost cuddly, doesn't he? (disclaimer-he's not!)

Our neighborhood black bear wandering off through the yard.

Alaska!

2008-06-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Alaska!
For photos of the drive and my latest blog updates, please come visit me at my new Alaska blog:

alaskaroadweed.blogspot.com

Why not keep using this blog? Well, I have used 40 percent of my photo space! But I will continue updating here as we travel in the future. Look for us floating down the grand canyon in November and December!

Touching Down

2008-05-29T12:15:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Phoenix, AZ on Sunday; My first time on American soil since April of last year. Two things struck me; 1, how convenient and easy everything is and 2, how many really big box stores there are! We stayed with a couple we met on couchsurfing.com , who spoiled us with wonderful hospitality and spent two days car shopping. On the third day, we hit the open road in a 1998 Honda CRV, which should get us reliably to Alaska. I will continue to post photos of the road trip as we make our way to Alaska, and then, because I have really enjoyed blogging, I will start writing about life in Alaska on my new Alaska blog,

alaskaroadweed.blogspot.com

I will continue to update here, too, as we travel in the future and as I think of stories from past trips I don't want to forget. Our next trip planned is in November. My whole family will spend 21 days on a private raft trip down the Grand Canyon.

This is America: The wide open road

Sometimes you just gotta wear shades. A man with his dog and his truck in Utah.

Utah cliff and mountain views. Utah is my favorite lower 48 state.

Two more days

2008-05-23T19:50:00.000-07:00

Two more days till we go home.
Fifteen months is a long time, and I am looking forward to going home. One adventure ends, but a new one begins.
Reintegrating into life in the United States.
With a whole new view of the world.
I am also depressed. Most of my life, I have dreamed about and planned for this trip around the world. And now I have done it.
I don't know what to dream of next.
It has been absolutely amazing beyond words, especially the section traveling by land from Pakistan into China, Central Asia, and back into western China.
Such a different world, and yet so much the same.
So many kindnesses from strangers.
Strangers who are so much like us in their basic needs and desires.
Strangers who reached out and shared a small snapshot of their lives with us.
What better dream than this?

Volcanic Eruptions and Torture Chambers

2008-05-21T13:09:00.000-07:00

Did I say that we were staying under a smoking volcano? That's not quite true. We are under an erupting volcano! Usually, the clouds are covering the volcano, which is probably good for our peace of mind, but yesterday they cleared long enough that we could see a big, black, growing plume of ash going sideways and up, and looking a bit like those photos I saw of Hiroshima when I was a kid. Tim and I looked around to see if any one was panicking. No, everyone was just going about their business. We pointed it out to a kid. He smirked at us and said "not much dangerous". A lady told us the volcano is very active, erupting often and causing tremors in the earth. But no one says anything about it because, well, they are used to it. And they don't want the tourists to flee.

We, however, are too busy pampering ourselves to flee. After spending our mornings hiking up the flanks of the erupting volcano, we head back into town for a soak in the mineral hot springs. Or to have my body painted head to toe with mud. Or a steam bath. A steam bath? It sounds pretty good, you might think. In reality it is a well devised torture chamber. You sit on a bench in a giant wooden box, and the torturer slides the top over you, so that only your head and neck is poking out of a little hole in the top.

A hole like you see in those medieval torture contraptions.

Then the scalding steam is turned on. After about five minutes, when you think you can't handle another second, the torturer gets you out of the box, dumps ice cold water over you, and then puts you back in. This time you stay in longer, until you think you are about to pass out from the heat. Granted, you do have control over how much steam is coming out, but if you want the maximum cleansing benefits you want to keep it as high as you can possibly take.

More ice cold water. Another 15 minutes in the steam box. It's almost unbearable by the end. You lurch out unsteadily, drink a shot of mystery plant liquid, and now sit in the ice cold water. Then back in the box, nauseous, dizzy, with a pounding heart. Thank God it's the last time.

Then the grand finale. This time you are hosed off with a jet stream of ice cold water. My skin is as healthy and pink as a baby's bum.

Trekking in the Cordillera Blanca

2008-05-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

Early morning light touches Alpamayo peak on the Santa Cruz trek.

Early morning sun and clouds on Peak Paron.

Sunrise colors at their finest. Nevado Artesonraju.

Sunrise on Quitaraju Peak.

Alpamayo

Tim at our high knoll campsite in the Alpamayo valley,
overlooking mountains all around.

I can never resist a swim in clean, blue water, even if it is breathtakingly cold glacier water!

. . . while Tim can barely stand getting his feet wet.

Glowing, golden sunset on the peaks above Valley Paria.

Reflections. Nevado Taulliraju.

Huascaran Norte Peak at sunset, near Laguna 69.

Most babies are carried on the back in these colorful clothes.

A parade for the patron Saint in Huaraz.

Toro Muerto Petroglyphs and the White City

2008-04-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

The Toro Muerto petroglyphs in Peru are located in some of the driest desert I have seen. The landscape is all Grey rock and sand with hardly a sign of life-not even many insects or lizards. About the time these were carved several thousand years ago, this was a major trading route between the highlands and the coast. Many of the petroglyphs feature dancers with headdresses and masks and possibly represent ceremonies conducted here. Maybe the ceremonies where for a good trading profit, or to ask the gods for safe passage across this dry, dry, dry desert. Unlike Samali Tash in Kyrgyzstan, they were pretty easy to get to. The only thing we had to brave was the heat!

Toro Muerto petroglyphs in Peru

Tall man waving

The animals look pretty cheerful!

The cow jumping over the moon?

This was a major trading route between the highlands and the coast. Why were these petroglyphs carved on so many rocks here? I think it was to ask the gods for safe passage across this dry, dry, dry desert.

A ritual dance with masks and headdresses. Perhaps part of the ceremony for safe passage?

In the Santa Catalina nunnery in Arequipa

A girl feeding the pigeons in the town square of Arequipa

Arequipa is called The White City because of the white granite used in construction of many of its buildings. This church is alongside the main square.

A small demonstration in Arequipa about rising food prices- rice, corn, and other staples. Also about lack of jobs. One protester told us ¨people who have money eat. people who don´t have money don´t eat.¨ Seems pretty obvious to some people, but in the States we are used to having plenty jobs and opportunities as well as social programs like welfare, unemployment, and food stamps. Here, there is not a lot to fall back on but family.

Back in Time

2008-04-25T08:56:00.000-07:00

Amantani Islands extensive terrace system

On Amantani Island in Lake Titicaca, life goes on much like it has for thousands of years. No roads, no vehicles, and in fact, I never saw a wheel of any type. A few buildings have lights running off car batteries, but mostly people use candle light. The island is covered with terraced garden plots, where people grow herbs, many kinds of potatoes and other root vegetables, peas, beans, and a variety of grains. They catch fish from the lake also, but only small ones now. The villagers told us that the big fish disappeared a while ago. They also grow small stands of Eucalyptus trees for firewood. There are a few animals on the island, some cows, sheep and guinea pigs. These are used for dairy, wool, and sale, respectively. The islanders do not have dogs, "except for four," as they made an agreement, followed by most of the villagers, that they didn't want dogs because they are loud and bother the children.

We stayed two nights on the island with Captain Gabriel, his wife, four daughters, and son. During the day, Gabriel worked in the fields, while his wife and children (after school) sorted through the harvest and wove textiles. Weaving is an integral part of the culture and it is common to see women spinning thread on a drop spindle when they walk, sit, or any time they have their hands free. Men knit wool hats with intricate designs and Gabriel used a sewing machine to make embroidered traditional head cloths for sale to the local women. The culture on the island seems more egalitarian than many places we have visited, especially in Asia. I saw both men and women working equally in the fields and in the home. Both carry heavy loads on their backs. Women inherit and seem to have more say in things than many women around the world.

Gabriel told us how his ancestors have lived on the island for 1000's of years, but it has more population now than ever before. People are having problems growing sufficient crops on their plots of land, which get smaller with each passing generation. Land is passed down equally to both sons and daughters, and Gabriel is worried about what will happen when his land must be split five ways between his children. It is now just enough to sustain them, he tells us. One of the consequences of having the land split equally between sons and daughters is that the land owned by a family becomes very fragmented as people from across the island marry. Gabriel and his family have many small plots of land spread out over the entire island. This same land has belonged to his ancestors and been passed down in his family for 1000's of years.

The family, and others on the island, combat this dilution of land by spreading out their economy to gain extra income. In addition to tourism, they sell guinea pigs for human consumption and small fish as trout food to the fisheries on the mainland. They sell woven, knitted, and embroidered textiles, locally and on the mainland, and even stone from the island quarries is carved into sinks and other objects to sell. Also, many people, especially the younger ones, are leaving the island to work in the cities. In addition to sending money home, this also results in land sometimes being available for purchase by other islanders.

There are two old temples at the top of the island. Even though the islanders are now officially Catholic, like most of South America, they still retain some of their ancient religious beliefs. Gabriel told us that the two temples are dedicated to Father and Mother Earth. In January, a dance is conducted between the two temples and sacrifices offered for a good harvest. On our second night, the weather grew stormy, with thunder and lightning off in the distance. We heard explosions of some type and asked Gabriel about them. "The villagers are scaring away the hail," he answered. "Big hail sometimes comes and damages the crops. The harvest is not finished." We think it was fireworks being lit, as Gabriel told us that the villagers do not have guns. "We do not need them. It is peaceful here" he explained.

From an environmental standpoint, the visit to the island was very interesting. Life is much the same here as at has been for thousands of years, and it is a good example at how people in a small system have dealt with their environment and the problems that have come, especially now with a swelling population. The entire island is used for agriculture, raising animals, growing trees for firewood, and placing homes and other infrastructure. Not one inch is left wild. For the most part, use of the land has been sustainable, with exception of the fish, which has been over fished to depletion of all large fish species. The problem of deforestation has been solved by planting trees for firewood. Although there is some erosion, it is mostly kept under control by the terracing system that covers the whole island. It remains to be seen whether the problem of overpopulation here, like most of the world, can be dealt with in a sustainable way.

Gabriel's Wife

Gabriel's youngest children in their traditionally styled hats. The villagers no longer use natural dyes, instead preferring the bright colors of chemical dyes.

A woman spinning

Colorful skirts out to dry

Herding sheep

Villagers can often be found spending siesta in the village square

A village women helps untie our boat

Heading home from the fields

Peru; on the Gringo Trail

2008-04-15T16:54:00.000-07:00

After over a year of travel, Tim and I were both getting a little tired from being on the road, and ready to go home. But then we landed in Peru, with its snowcapped peaks, amazing ancient historical sites, interesting culture, and excellent food, and we both felt revived, happy to be on the road again.

We flew into Cuzco to start our tour along the famous gringo trail, which includes Macchu Picchu and other Incan sites, as well as many colorful local markets. Note that we actually flew this time-I have finally grown tired of all those local buses, although they made for some good stories, like this one: A ride on an Indian local bus. After several days acclimatizing and visiting smaller sites, we headed to Macchu Picchu by tourist train. We stayed all day, hiking up Waynu Picchu (the steep peak seen in most of the photos), and bringing books and towels to lay out in the nicely trimmed grass (mostly trimmed by llamas!). It was a perfect day, with changing light conditions throughout the day.

The Incas built with some amazing stonework, especially considering that they used stone tools and had no wheel! The rock work is intricately fitted together, and stones weighing many tons are placed perfectly on top of each other. They also built water systems and fountains that still flow with clean, clear water today, more than 700 years after being built. I wonder if our copper pipes and fittings will last that long!

A foggy morning at Macchu Picchu.
Wild Orchids grow throughout Macchu Picchu and the surrounding area.

As the day progressed, the sun began to come out, shining beautiful shafts of light into the ruins.

You can see the stone knobs that the thatch roof was connected to.

Lupins and many other beatiful flowers abound in the Andean highlands

Rabbit? Squirrel? Rodent of some kind?

Example of the fine rockwork done by the Incas using hard rocks as tools.

Ollantaytambo. These granite stones came from the quarry way up on the mountainside on the opposite side of the valley. To get the boulders across the river, the Incas brought them to the edge, and then diverted the river to the other side!

View from the stone quarry at Ollantaytambo. Stones were brought down the mountain, across the valley, and to a point about 150 meters up the slopes on the other side.

A fountain at Ollantaytambo. Some of the water systems built by the Incas nearly 700 years ago still flow today.

Niches in a Pisaq temple

Lifting a sheep onto the top of the bus!

Cuzco

Chinchero, at 3500 meters.

Hiking around Chinchero

Photos of colorful Andean markets

This video shows about 30 seconds of a traditional Andean hunting dance.

Paraguay

2008-04-15T16:11:00.000-07:00

Another land border, from Argentina to Paraguay. This is the most porous border yet; God only knows what was smuggled across in those heavily taped boxes that went beneath the bus. We landed at the seedy border town of Ciudad del Este and headed into town after finding a dive hotel for 15 dollars a night. South America is not as cheap as it used to be! The downtown was absolutely deserted, at 5:00 in the evening, except for security guards at every corner with long sawed off shotguns. The shops where all closed with metal doors rolled shut over them. At one corner several men were trying to rattle their way in one. Eventually we found an ATM and a place to eat. A Chinese woman in a short skirt was twirling her keys and making suggestive comments to the diners as we walked in. As we ate I noticed a man standing by the window staring in at us. When I glanced at him he winked at me and continued staring for a moment before backing into the shadows and lurking there. After a bit he was back at the window staring as he twirled something in his hand. If I looked over in his direction he would wink or make other machismo facial expressions. I was completely unsettled and told Tim that he was waiting for us with bad intentions. But it turned out his motives not nearly as sinister as I had imagined. The man sitting next to us bought him some food and asked the waiter to bring it to him. The man grabbed his to-go bag and took off, mission apparently accomplished.

Day two in Paraguay was spent visiting Itaipu Dam, which produces 75% of Paraguay's power and 25% of Brazil´s. The Dam is an environmental nightmare to be sure, but if that 75% of power had to be supplied by another means it would probably be just as bad environmentally, and probably worse from a humanitarian standpoint; power would be more expensive in a country that is already quite poor, and Paraguay would not be as energy self-dependant. The tour of the dam started with a propaganda video showing all the animals that supposedly live around the newly created lake, but most of the photos came from inside a zoo. When the dam was finished in 1983, water flow was completely cut off and the lake was filled within a three week period. Tim and I couldn't help but crack up laughing when the movie showed people in small boats netting animals that where stuck in the trees as the water rose. This was supposed to prove environmental awareness, but I think filling the dam that fast was completely reckless! I guess the animals that couldn't climb trees were shit out of luck.

After our visit to the dam we spent six hours on a bus and a few more trudging around looking for a hotel in Asuncion. At one, we were told that a room would be available in a half hour. OK, now, it's 8:30 at night. Just what kind of hotel do you think that was? At some point during this odyssey, I remembered that it was my birthday. Tim remembered the next morning!

We spent three days in Asuncion (not in the questionable hotel) before heading to Ybycui National Park (your guess on pronunciation is as good as mine) to see one of the last stands of Brazilian subtropical rain forest. Unfortunately, it was now in the midst of Holy Week and both hotels in town were full. Buses were coming into Ybycui, but they were not leaving for two days. Sonya, The friendly lady running one of the hotels showed us a room full of extra furniture and said we could stay there. She brought us sheets and a foam mattress to sleep on. The lights did not work and neither did the fan, but the room had a nice balcony. As evening came around, bass thumping cars full of teenagers began cruising back and forth on the road out front. It soon became apparent that our room was a mosquito breeding ground, so we set up our tent in the middle of the floor. The next morning the room was full of bloody mosquitoes. Well, at least it wasn't our blood!

Sonya found us a ride to the park with a friendly couple staying at the hotel. It was jam packed with locals and tourists from Asuncion swimming and camping. There were two major highlights for the day. One was seeing a Praying Mantis staggering along in its weird, jerky gait and the other was an amazing, huge, electric blue and black patterned butterfly.

After this, we headed to another border town, and another border to cross.

Drinking Yerba de Mate, the national drink. Everywhere you see people carrying thermoses of this tea leaf brew.

How would you like to have a tooth pulled here?

An old cannon in a city square, piled with riot gear. I was a little nervous snapping this shot in the midst of the many groups police lingering around.

Praying mantis

An interesting mural in Asunction.

The Golden Arches

2008-04-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

It was 4:30 am and we were in between flights at the Lima airport when I saw them. . . The Golden Arches! And despite the fact that I have not eaten at Mc Donald's for more years then I can count, and I really hate fast food, I immediately began salivating. Buttermilk pancakes! Orange juice not watered down to the consistency of Tang! Egg Mc Muffin! Coffee in a cup bigger than the size of a thimble! A good old American breakfast! $12.00 later and. . . Ba da da dada!

One thing I just can't get used to traveling is the breakfast. Dog meat, Alpaca, Manioc, etc., it's all good for lunch. Or dinner. But, for God's sakes, not breakfast. Really, we were served wieners and french fries one morning. Who can eat that at 8:00 am in the morning?

Ba da da dada! I'm lovin' it!

Roadblocks in Argentina

2008-04-02T16:49:00.000-07:00

We were lucky to make it out of Argentina! Fortunately we decided to take a boat rather than a bus from Uruguay to Buenos Aires to catch our flight to Peru, or we would never have made it past the farmers roadblocks. While on a taxi to the airport, the taxi driver filled us in on what was happening. The government of Argentina decided to raise the taxes on soy beans to 50% from about 20% in a few days time. They have a somewhat good reason for doing this; With high Soy prices most of Argentina's farmers have sold off their livestock and other crops and turned to Monsanto's "Round up Ready" GM Soy Bean monoculture. With the mass export of cash crops, Argentina is beginning to have problems with food supply within the country. But this pissed the farmers off and they started a mass protest, choking off all the roads to Buenos Aires with tractors and other farm equipment. As we drove, we could see long lines of people waiting to get into the grocery stores to stock up on food, as supplies were beginning to run low. On the news at the airport we saw footage of massive truckloads of spoiled food being dumped, unable to reach its markets in time. Anyhow, we made it out of Argentina without being affected by all this excitement and are now in Cuzco, Peru, getting ready to head to Macchu Picchu.

Argentina

2008-03-19T09:59:00.000-07:00

Just what is Tim doing here?

My favorite thing about Argentina is the wine. In NZ, my family was having a cheap wine contest, and I can now say I have won hands down. A decently drinkable-even good-bottle of wine can be had here for only $1.50, so, you probably all know I have drank plenty of wine here!

The other highlight of the trip to Argentina was Iguazu Falls, one of the largest and most beautiful waterfalls in the world, set amid rain forest full of beautiful butterflies, birds, and lizards.

Some sights in Buenos Aires

The first public cemetery in Buenos Aires, full of mausoleums, is now full, unless you can share a mausoleum with family members already here.

The Congress building

Political posters line riot fences in front of the Pink House, anogalous to the White House in the USA

Dog walkers walk large groups of dogs throughout Buenos Aires

Iguazu Falls

An Iguana at Iguazu.

Am amazing amount of water rushes over here

More photos from NZ

2008-03-19T09:58:00.000-07:00

North Island

South Island

Some photos of New Zealand´s wide open farms

Spectacular Appaloosas

A peak my uncle and I climbing behind Naseby

An old open pit gold mine turned excellent swimming hole near historic Saint Bathans

Overlooking some of New Zealand´s rolling farm land

Clouds spill over the mountains in Central Otago

A goat in pajamas?

Hi tech farm equipment in the parade

You gotta love psychedelic green on a tractor!

Women dressed to the nines at the Art Deco Fair in Ranfurly

The classic car parade

Here is the one I want!

My grandfather with Buddha

New Zealand

2008-03-02T15:04:00.001-08:00

I flew in to Auckland airport to meet my grandfather, and we picked up a rental car with plans to drive to my mom's on the South Island. We had not made it very far before I realized that driving in NZ was a bit much for me. In addition to driving on the left side of the road, the roads are narrow, curvy, hilly, and not cambered for easy turning. My grandfather says "someone handed the keys to a bulldozer driver and said make a road. There is no engineering involved!" We drove north to see the beach and the huge Kauri trees. I also went scuba diving at the Black Nights Islands, where I saw a large stingray and many other wonderful things swimming amongst psychedelically colored seaweed. Then we went back to Auckland and took a flight to Christchurch, where we met my uncle and picked up another car to drive to my mom's house in the Central Otago region. Most of my time in NZ was spent hanging out with family rather than sight seeing, but if you want to see photos of New Zealand's nature you can look in the archives for last year's trip.

New Zealand has some beautiful natural mountain scenery along the West coast of the South Island, but for the most part, it is probably the worlds biggest farm, with lots of sheep, cows, horses, deer, and even trophy elk. I find the elk most fascinating; people pay tens of thousands of dollars to bag elk bred especially for their trophy size. The selected elk is driven to a portion of the paddock where it can be photographed without any offending fences showing in the background, and the ¨hunter¨ is driven into the paddock where he can practically walk right up to the somewhat tame elk and shoot it! I also went to a couple of county fairs, which were very farming oriented, complete with parades of high tech farm machinery and classic cars along side of sheep competitions. For now I've only posted a few photos from the North Island, but I will post more later when I can find a good computer to upload photos.

Walking through New Zealand's Kauri forest. These forests used to cover most of the North Island but are now confined to a couple protected areas.

The "King of the Forest". This tree is over 30 feet around.

Another huge Kauri, not as tall but about 45 feet around

Grandpa looking at Kauris

A bit of North Island beach

Forest opens on to Agricultural land

Tim Studies Tai Chi

2008-02-19T20:51:00.000-08:00

Back in December, after researching some martial arts schools, I decided I would like to come back to China ‘someday’ to study the ancient Chinese art of Tai Ji Quan. Most commonly known to westerners as Tai Chi, this is a soft, or internal, martial art as opposed to hard, or external, martial arts like Karate, Kung Fu, or Tae Kwan Do. Movements are very relaxed, balanced, and usually slow, with mental focus on controlling internal energy in the body. You may have seen videos of older Chinese people doing this slow graceful exercise together in the park.

Yarrow and I discussed it and she encouraged me to stay in China another 2 months to improve my Chinese and study Tai Chi. Rather than hope that someday I’ll have time to come back, I should take the opportunity now, when I don’t have other commitments. I was hesitant to stay here as we would be apart for more than 2 months, and I would not get a chance to see any of Southeast Asia or Yarrow’s family in New Zealand. I very much appreciated her support and willingness to give me more time in China, so I decided to stay.

In China there are two things that are hard to live without – a bicycle or motorbike and a mobile phone. My friend Anthony was leaving for Thailand and gave me his nice mountain bike to use. Without a bike, walking to town takes about 30 minutes. Everyone seems to have a mobile phone, which use GSM SIM cards that you load with money to make calls. If I didn’t have a phone, it would be difficult to have friends or plan anything. A mobile phone almost seems more of a necessity here than it did in the US. In many developing countries, getting a land line phone is difficult and expensive and mobile phones are used by most people. Even in backwards Uzbekistan, everyone seemed to have one.

I'm staying at Long Tou Shan Martial Arts School (http://www.longtoutaichi.com) in Shi Ban Qiao, a small village north of Yangshuo town in southern China’s Guanxi Zhuang province. The school's master is teaching overseas now, so all the instructors come from Master Fu's (http://www.masterfu.net) school close by. Master Fu Neng Bin in is one of the top students of Chen Zhenglei, himself one of the top Chen style Tai Chi masters and an 11^th generation direct inheritor of the Chen family Tai Chi tradition. The instructors here were trained by Master Fu and have excellent tai chi fundamentals and teaching ability. Chen is the oldest style of Tai Chi, which also incorporates some fast movements into its forms.

Sunset over the roof of the school.

Instructor Lao Li with Scott, another American Student. Master Fu's school is in the background.

We train two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, six days a week. Meals at the school are mostly vegetarian and very healthy. Usually it even tastes good! The village is fairly quiet with beautiful scenery. From the rooftop training area you can see over two dozen karst limestone mountains. The beautiful view and peaceful surroundings were the main reason I chose this school over the others in the area. I met a Chinese guy, Cai Lei, who is living in the village and studying English. Before he went home for Chinese New Year, we were spending an hour or two every day reading to each other in English and Chinese. Those sessions really improved my Chinese pronunciation and Cai Lei got to learn the meaning of Americanisms like ‘slacking off’ and ‘getting the ax’. I can now converse in Chinese at a pretty basic level, but I still know very little and don’t understand a lot of what people say.

Training on a beautiful day as Andy takes in some sun.

In eight weeks of intensive training I’ve learned what would have taken a year or more studying back in the states. I first learned a short Chen 18 form and I just finished the 74 movement Chen Lao Jia Yi Lu form. It takes almost 15 minutes to do that form from beginning to end and requires a lot of concentration to stay relaxed and to remember which move comes next. I have also been working on a Yang style Tai Chi traditional 32 step form with a private teacher about five hours a week. Learning the forms is just the first level of Tai Chi skill. It takes years of practice to be able to do the forms while moving the energy correctly inside the body. There’s also the more advanced exercise of Push Hands where you hone your Tai Chi skills with a partner, trying to push each other off balance. I’ve studied several other martial arts in the past and Tai Chi seems to demand more precise movements and is very challenging to perform correctly.

Instructor Jason (left) and Eyal practicing Push Hands.

Lao Li working with me on the Lao Jia Yi Lu form.

One thing that made the Tai Chi practice more difficult is that I chose to stay here at the same time as China was being devastated by the worst winter in the past 50 years. Three weeks of snowfall killed at least 60 people and cost the country approximately $7.5 billion. More than half a million homes were damaged or destroyed. On an icy stretch of highway in China’s Hunan province, more than 10,000 vehicles were backed up in a traffic jam that reached back nearly 50 miles. Many provinces faced power outages and shortages and trains, buses, planes, were all grounded. This all happened during the Chinese New Year, when 175 million people attempt to travel at the same time and 10’s of millions were stranded in bus and train stations and airports! While we are too far south to get snow, there was ice, steady rain, freezing rain and record low temperatures. There were frequent power outages sometimes lasting all day.

In southern China there is usually no heating inside buildings as it is rarely needed. Our school is no exception and temperatures were at or below freezing every day for 3 weeks. My room was rarely above 40 degrees Fahrenheit and sometimes colder. After a week I asked for an electric blanket and I finally broke down and bought an electric hot water bag. My hands developed a strange reaction to the cold humid weather and were often swollen and it was painful to make a fist. I even had a small area where the skin on my knuckle froze stiff! If you’re wondering how I’ll be able to live in Alaska, it won't be a problem because there we can go inside to get warm. This is definitely the coldest I've been for the longest period of time. It builds character but I’m so glad this week is warmer and we finally have some sun. I almost forgot was sunny weather was like. The upside was that there were never more than 3 students here at a time. Usually there was just one other student, so I got a lot of individual attention from the instructors.

Me, Lao Li and Scott on one of the few nice days this month.

Having practiced Tai Chi almost two months now, I notice improved posture, stronger legs, better flexibility, more relaxation, and people think I look years younger than I am. It must have something to do with the low stress lifestyle, exercise and healthy food. I plan to continue practicing on my own when I leave and hope to be able to come back here again someday. I’ve met a lot of neat people here and want to thank Andy and Gal for taking some photos for me to post on this blog. Living here has been an enjoyable experience that is coming too quickly to an end but I’m really looking forward to seeing Yarrow again and traveling South America with her.

Danger; Foreigner on Road!!

2008-02-17T17:33:00.000-08:00

I flew from Bangkok to the North Island of New Zealand where someone was stupid enough to hand me the keys to a car! In a country where the roads are narrow, curving, and everyone drives on the wrong (left) side of the road! It's a good thing my grandfather is here to sit in the passenger seat and tell me...
"Yarrow, you're too far over. You are going to go in the ditch."
"Yarrow, you almost hit that car"
"Yarrow, you are on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!"
Or is that the right side of the road?

Laid back Laos

2008-02-16T14:58:00.001-08:00

'

After five days of exploring the ruins of Angkor Wat I decided to head back into the south of Laos. The route out of Cambodia was punctuated by billboards showing several sets of skinny, veined arms passing pistols, automatic rifles, and hand grenades over to a set of smooth, plump arms. After paying an unofficial 1$ 'fee' for immigration to stamp my passport, I was back in gentle, honest Laos.

I immediately went to Don Det Island, where I spent 5 days viewing the inside of a hammock outside of my private bungalow. Hammock swinging is something of a ritual on Don Det island. When the falang (foreigners) do manage to peal themselves from their hammocks it is to ride around the island on gearless, brakeless bikes singing out "sabadee" (hello) to each other. Alternatively you can jump into the Mekong for a refreshing swim. After getting out of the river one day, I saw a water snake gliding along in the water!

After this I went to Tat Lo village, stopping at several minority villages on the way. The people of these villages worship the spirits of their dead ancestors, and the rules regarding the proper way to behave so as not to offend the spirits are interesting. Women are not supposed to sit or sleep with their feet pointing at any man. Clapping hands is forbidden, as this could disturb the spirits. If these or other rules are violated, even by a tourist, an atonement sacrifice must be made to appease the spirits. The type of animal sacrificed depends on the gravity of the offense, and could be as large and expensive of an animal as a buffalo. You have to be carefull visiting these villages! At Tat Lo, I stayed in a bungalow right next to a large waterfall and went for another elephant ride. After this, sadly, my time in Laos was up, and I headed back to Bangkok for my flight to New Zealand.

In Laos, big, communal meals are an important part of the culture, and I was invited to eat at several of these while I was there. Often, the table is first spread with banana leaves. Food is then set in the center of the table in dishes or piled directly on the leaves and everyone digs in with their fingers, setting aside the bones and any other discarded pieces. By the end of the meal the table looks as if a hand grenade went off in the middle of it. No problem! The leaves are cleared away into the jungle for the animals to pick clean.

Lao people also love to dance and listen to loud music. Lao dancing is very clean, with the men and women dancing next to each other but not touching as they sashay around in a large circle and make graceful, twirling hand motions. Overall, the Lao culture is very laid back, soft spoken, and having fun is extremely important. It's about as far as you can get from our hurried American pace!

A Cambodian market

Arachnophobia, anyone?

People from the villages I visited:

Everyone in this village, young, old, women, and men, smokes tobacco in these long pipes.

Grinding grains

After grandmother checks to see that the coffee beans are dry, a boy gathers the sundried beans into a basket.

An American souvenir. The villagers make good use of the bombs we inundated Laos with during the Vietnam war, using them as planters and containers of various types. We dropped two million dollars worth of bombs per day-about 1300 lbs per person, destroying many villages and fields and terrorizing the people here who depend on the land to survive. Some of these bombs did not explode on impact and still kill and maim today.

Most of Laos is hilly, with thick green vegetation

These trucks are the most common form of transport in Laos. They have benches down the sides, but not everyone gets a seat. They often don't leave until they are so full that not another person could possibly hang off the back or fit inside.

After casting the net, he will jump into the river to bring out any fish caught

These wooden boats are quite common along the Mekong river

Working in the garden on Don Det

My bungalow on Don Det Island

Here I am on another elephant ride. I crossed a large river, went through the jungle, and into an off-road village on this elephant ride.

Cambodia

2008-01-19T20:49:00.001-08:00

Angkor Wat is amazing, with miles and miles of beautiful temples and ruins. It is especially lovely at sunset, when the sun sinks below the horizon in a huge, red ball. As a whole, though, I have found Cambodia a bit of a depressing place. It's a bit unfair to the country as a whole, but my perceptions are partly colored by the experience I had in getting here. I think also a part of this is the way the tragic past of the killing fields and the Khmer Rouge permeates the atmosphere.

Unlike China, where the past is kept quiet and history is rewritten, in Cambodia the past is held up for all to see, with documentaries playing daily in guest houses, photographic displays in museums and TV shows, and adults and children everywhere selling documentary books written by survivors (children who don't go to school but can count to ten in 7 or 8 different languages!). It is a good thing that the people can accept and talk about the past, but it also invites a lot of deep thought and sadness on my part, being in what seems to be a wounded and angry country.

I wonder what it is about communism, with it's impossible but idealistic goals of equality, that causes a country (China, USSR, Cambodia, and others) to turn so cruel and so ugly. Why does it attract such paranoia and totalitarianism in it's leadership? I suppose a part of it stems from the fact that with it's impossible ideals, it is a losing battle from the start-something the leadership must sense in it's desperate bid to force equality on all. Maybe it is the complete destruction of family ties and basic human values in a society that rewards ignorance and cruelty and punishes knowledge, kindness, and hard work. Maybe it comes from turning the tables and putting the normally disadvantaged on the top of society, a place many might be willing to do almost anything to retain. Or maybe it is just the bad side of human nature(and I believe there is a good side as well!). After all, throughout history many cruelties have been committed in the name of many things-from religion, to communism, imperialism, and governments of all kinds, to riches and resources.

I didn't take this photo; I posed for it.

One of Angkor's guards

There are lots of great breasts at Angkor!

Many monks visit Angkor Wat, often with their families

Getting around Angkor Wat is accomplished by hired Tuk Tuk, a easy and fun way to travel.

Some of Cambodia's people

Young monks talk to us through the window

"Ladeeeee, you want to buy from meeeee?"

A girl by the well

Here is a closer shot of that sweet little girl by the well.

Many monks live in these homes near some of the ruins.

A view from one of Cambodia's few hills. It is so flat, you can see the curve of the earth.

Thailand

2008-01-19T19:43:00.001-08:00

I buzzed through Thailand pretty quickly on my way to Cambodia, but while I was here I visited an Elephant hospital and sanctuary for elephants that used to work in the logging industry. Now, logging with elephants is illegal in Thailand, so these working elephants are often abandoned here, where they have a good life doing shows in the morning for tourists. Several elephants in the hospital part had been injured by landmines. They have such huge legs that it seems to smother the landmine and they are able to survive.

The day started out with watching the elephants bathe, and then seeing a demonstration of them pulling logs, painting pictures, rolling over, and placing hats on peoples heads. Next we could feed them bananas, and finally I did a short elephant ride, getting sprayed with water when he stopped to drink and wet himself against the heat. The elephants are very intelligent and full of personality. They also have amazing motor skills using their trunks.

Photo above: The elephants lower themselves so that the handlers can mount and dismount.

Bathing

This elephant has an IV!

Here is a video of the elephant bathing and nearly drenching me with spray.

Laos

2008-01-19T18:28:00.000-08:00

So far in SE Asia, Laos is my favorite country. It is very beautiful with rolling mountains and rich, green vegetation. Laos is very undeveloped and most people here, especially in the villages, live a subsistence lifestyle with very little money. But still the people are very laid back, cheerful, soft spoken, and love to have fun, taking their leisure time very seriously! Fortunately, with the excellent climate and good soils (and much of the rain forest still intact!) a wide variety of good food is fairly easy to grow, giving plenty of time for afternoon siestas and late night parties. It is the type of subsistence that makes it easy to get utopian, idealistic ideas of returning to such a lifestyle. But of course, not all is as immediately meets the eye. Health care is almost non-existent, especially for those that cannot afford to go into the few towns that have clinics, schools do not seem to be very widespread, and opportunities for getting ahead are pretty slim. And of course, everyone wants money! In some villages the people flat out ask for it, and for pens and bon bons, while in others people try to sell handicrafts of various qualities from seed jewelry to nicely embroidered traditional style hats. There are also a few old women who will pull bags of hashish and maybe even opium (I never saw this) out of their shirts for sale as well. Some villages are better off than others, and one I visited was full of children all clothed in the exact same stained, torn up shirts, obviously a long ago donation, and no pants either.

While here, I spent four days in a bungalow about 8 km from Muan Sing in the North of Laos and surrounded by several small villages. During this time, I made friends with several of the children from the neighboring village, who I don't think go to school but spent their time helping with the animals, hauling water and wood, and of course, playing around and trying to sell their seed bracelets to any foreigners around. The children with whom I made friends toured me throughout their village, taking me into their homes, and giving me gifts such as seed bracelets, peanuts, and flowers with a sweet smell, which they climbed the trees to pick. After a while they also encouraged me to photograph freely, rather than the normal refrain "photo, money, photo, money."

On my third day they took me throughout the village on another sort of tour, a tour of the sick and injured, and considering that most of these maladies are left untreated except by various herbal remedies, it was another reminder to me of the blessings of the modern lifestyle I have at home. There was a girl who had fallen out of a tree and had probably broken bones in her shoulder or arm, a boy who had fallen off of a motor bike and was missing a two inch square hunk of flesh (this village has a few motor bikes and being near the road is a little better off than some), and a baby with a welt like rash spread across her body. It was sad for me, knowing that there was not much I could do. This village is only 8 km from a medical clinic, but still the people do not go, even though transport is available here, presumably preferring to spend what little money they do have on other things and necessities of life.

I tried to show a couple of these girls where I am from on the world map I carry, but they stared at it blankly and uninterestedly, making me believe that they have never actually seen a map of the world; pretty shocking in this day and age! It made me think that us westerners and where we come from must be really a mystery to them, especially in the areas off the road without television. We just show up in their villages with our strange looks, strange clothing, tons of money (at least to them), and cameras, snapping shots as if we were strolling through a human zoo. It must be very frustrating for them. Still, I think we could learn a lot from the people here about having a more laid back and less stressful lifestyle. I really envy them that!

The children in this village near Luang Namtha are lucky to have a village school. (Also photo above)

Booba, my favorite of the village children, is very pretty and shy.

The kids all unload the pickup and restock the village store

Homes in the villages are built on stilts out of bamboo and other plentiful woods

Animals such as pigs, dogs, and chickens roam freely around the village

Another village near Luang Namtha

The villagers run towards us with bracelets hammered from old coins to sell. The kids often run around without pants and also come to ask for pens and bon bons. I honestly do not think it is cute to teach children to beg for candy, even if it is in French!

Ahka woman with baby on her back

A small boy rides the ox home every evening

Most things are carried on peoples backs

A Yao women removing the kernels from the corn. The Yao women have long, covered hair like the Yao in China, but they dress differently, in black coats with big red collars.

Afternoon siesta!

Monks riding their bicycles near Muan Sing

The early morning market in Muag Sing. by 10:00 it is closed down and people are back to their farms or other jobs

Images of China: The Southwest

2008-01-18T03:17:00.000-08:00

From Snowcap Peaks to Tropics

Yengshou county

Unfortunately, with the thick fog I was unable to get good photos of the beautiful karst mountain scenery. You will have to settle for this black and white.

Drying corn and caligraphy are both comman sites in China.

Colorful peels drying in a window

Xingping market. The more money you have, the more chickens you cart off.

Hiking near Xingping with Mr. Kim

Give me that. You give me that! I'm hungry!

Fooood? Is that foooooooooooood?

Commorants. These birds are used for night fishing

Bamboo boats are comman, although many are now made with plastic bamboo!

Dali, Yunnan Province

Lijiang Old City

A Lijiang man enjoys a smoke

A Naxi woman on her loom

Some of China's people are still proud to wear the old Red Guard armband

Lijiang market

Chicken feet are a popular delicacy

A Chinese pig roast

The Naxi orchestra in Lijiang. The instrument styles and music have been handed down through the generations and preserve some of China's oldest music. During the cultural revolution many of the musicians saved their instruments by burying them

This sign was in a Lijiang cafe restroom

Tiger leaping gorge

Luxurious hiking from lodge to lodge!

The Gardens of tropical SW China

The Scam Line Express

2008-01-15T16:49:00.000-08:00

Bangkok to Siem Reap

Oh no, not another bus story!

Bus journeys often give an introduction to the good, the bad, and the ugly of a culture. The bus journey from Bangkok to Siem Reap was a view into the ugly-the really ugly! This route is well known for being subject to various scams, which I mistakenly thought I could avoid by paying a pretty penny to take a first class deluxe bus for the 12 hour journey. Well that was the first scam and bold faced lie!

Since the TAT office was on a narrow street, a tiny, cramped minivan picked several tourists up to take us to the "big bus" shown to me in many glossy photos, like the wonderful bus I rode into Bangkok on, and complete with an on board toilet. Only the minivan never reached the "big bus". When it stopped for gas I knew we were in trouble, and I began asking questions. The bus helper admitted that we would stay in the minivan until we reached the border, four hours away, and then we would change to the deluxe "big bus". At this point we were still within Bangkok and I said "I am getting out here and going back to the travel agency to get my money back. I paid for a big, deluxe bus". The helper immediately slammed the door shut, locked so that it could not be opened from the inside, and the bus took off down the road. No amount of demanding that they stop and let me out did any good. I was now a hostage on the Bangkok/Siem Reap Scam Line Express!

There were 9 tourists total on that van, of which only two actually knew that they would be in a cramped van-and who also paid a lot less then the rest of us! This was only the beginning of the scam obstacle course that I and my fellow passengers would spend the next 12 hours dodging through, which would culminate in me being physically threatened by a psychotic bus helper at the end.

The second stop on the Scam Line Express caught a really sweet couple from Nepal, who were told that they could not get their visa at the border, and who paid 60 $ apiece for a visa that costs only 20 $. Fortunately, I had gotten mine at the Cambodia embassy in Bangkok, a super easy process that took only a half hour.

Next stop on the scam line... money changing. At our very expensive lunch spot near the border, helpful guides told us that we could not get money in Cambodia and should withdraw money (in Thai currency) from the myriad of ATM's scattered about the area and then change it at the "big bank" on entering Cambodia (what is it about big? big bus, big bank. I've learned to be afraid of anything big!). I had heard about this scam and so no one on my bus got caught by it, but later I met people who had changed large amounts of money at rates that can only amount to pure theft (they lost about 30% in the exchange)!

After we refused the "big bank's" services, actually a sleazy little money changing booth, the no longer so helpful guides pointed to a bus station of sorts and took off. We went into a room full of tourists who had all had the same experiences from many different travel agencies, some of whom had been sitting in limbo for 2 hours or more. Finally, a bus showed up and waited until it filled up to leave. And now I know you are asking if this was finally my deluxe bus! No, this bus was like a school bus in the states, bench seats, no A/C, no shocks. But, oh well, we were on our way to Siem Reap at last.

It is interesting to mention that the road to Siem Reap is only 150 KM (80 miles) but takes 5 hours due to the deplorable state of the road. This well oiled scam line actually starts at the very top-it is reputed that the road remains in this shape due to bribes by a particular airline to Cambodia government officials to improve airline ticket sales to this popular destination.

Now for the icing on the cake! The final scam is dropping the passengers off (late at night, of course) at a particular hotel, rather than at the bus station or town center, for which the driver is paid a nice commission by the hotel. When we were informed that we would all be dropped at a "nice, new, cheap hotel" several people where upset. One was saying he paid to go into Siem Reap, not a hotel on the outskirts, while an older couple wanted to know why they would not be dropped at the bus station. I explained to them that "we are being dropped off at the hotel because the bus driver gets paid a commission to take us there".

On being exposed, the bus helper went absolutely psychotic and began screaming and shouting and waving his arms at me and threatened to drop me off on the side of the road, in the dark, out in the middle of nowhere! "If you don't want to pay us commision, you just get off here" Several other passengers intervened. I said no more until we reached the said hotel. Here, I got out and quietly slipped to the back of the bus to write down the plate number for the complaint that I plan to make. Not that it will do a whole lot of good, but it will make me feel better at least! Out of the corner off my eye, I saw the bus helper coming and moved back to the side of the bus where the passengers were still milling about. The bus helper tried to physically grab my notebook from me and blocked my path threateningly as he resumed his psychotic screaming about "why you write that. you give me that. you cause problem". I called out in a loud voice "help, help" and two men, who work as security guards for various US based airlines operating in Holland came to my rescue. One of them told the man "so what if she wrote down your plate number. its her right to complain. You can't take her book. In fact, I am going to go write your plate number down too!" The bus helper stepped aside, and the three of us finally escaped the Scam Line Express.

The facts for other travelers:
-The bus from Mochit 2 bus station in Bangkok leaves for the Thai border, Aranya Prathet every hour from 5:00 A.M. until early afternoon. To get to the bus station, you can take the MRTA subway or BTS sky train to Chatuchak park/Mochit station. From here you can take a motor bike, taxi, city bus, or walk to the bus station (a little hard to find-keep asking). Don't take the private buses!! Don't take the private buses!!If you do, take a minivan, as you will probably end up on one anyhow even if you pay more!
-At the border, it is a short walk across. Then get a shared taxi for 30$ or 35$ for the whole taxi to Siem Reap. You can probably pair up with other travelers to share the cost. This will take only three hours and cost you less hassle and possibly less money. Or you can get on the bus here-12$ per person but expect to be taken to a hotel.
-Don't change money. There are ATM's that work in Siem Reap. There are also money changers. Canadia bank reportedly does not charge a fee for cash advances. Everyone takes US dollars here and this is the best currency to have.
-Get your visa in Bangkok if you can. It is quick and easy. I had my visa in a half hour. At the border there are signs saying that visa's will no longer be issued on arrival but I think people were still getting them. I can't be sure, though. You can always get it at the lunch spot, but be prepared to bargain hard! It is best to pay in US dollar. The official cost is 20 US or 1100 Baht (about 35$-they still operate on a strong dollar of the past!).
-Finally, good luck!

Images of China; the cities

2008-01-02T01:48:00.000-08:00

From Xian to Shanghai

Xian

From Xhaihei (meeting a lama) Tim and I went to Xian to see the Terracotta Warriors, probably one of the most visited sights in China. They were every bit as amazing as every one has said. Xian itself is a nice city, with a bustling night market and an interesting Muslim quarter, complete with a beautiful old mosque containing four large, peacefully landscaped courtyards.

The famous Terracotta Warriors near Xian

Every one of the Terracotta Warriors has original characteristics

North of Xian is a smaller, less well known tomb containing miniature warriors. Many of them are displayed as they were found via a glass enclosed walkway. These ones are haunting in their resemblance to drowning men.

Terracotta animals of all kinds were also buried with the warriors.

Some of the people from the Muslim quarters of Xian

Bicycle is the most popular mode of transportation in China.

That's a big spool of cotton candy!

Xian's drum tower, with the moon behind

A make-over counter in a posh Xian mall. After traveling in India, Pakistan, and Central Asia, I was still reeling from China's modernity.

The night market in Xian is overwhelming with it's bright lights and colorful, crowded displays of chiva. This is the dried fruit and nuts section.

The Chinese like to give auspicious names to their businesses

A man sits and watches the world in another town near Xian

On the way to the warriors; one of China's many power plants

Pingyou

Next stop, Pingyou, which is known for its old Chinese Architecture, some of the last in China that has not been razed and replaced with concrete towers. Pingyou is surrounded by it's old city walls, outside of which the architecture gives way to the more familiar concrete jungle.

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some of Pingyou's people

Playing an ever popular Chinese Checkers game in the streets of Pingyou

An obstinate donkey

Beijing

In Beijing Tim and I visited Temple of Heaven Park, the Lama Temple, Forbidden City, and Mao's mausoleum (Mao's resting place). I also had a chance to eat things such as dog meat and tongue (When in Rome). Beijing is gearing up for the Olympics with new pollution controls and had the first blue sky we have seen in a while!

Temple of Heaven Park

In Temple of heaven park, people danced, sang, played music, wrote calligraphy with water on the pavement, played games, and practiced Tai Chi. Here are a few of the people

Many Chinese waited in line to get their photos taken. Some were gregarious as they looked into the camera lenses, others were more shy.

Forbidden City, where the emperors used to live. This historical site survived the Cultural Revolution by special decree of Zhou Enlai. The front gate is graced with a gigantic painting of . . . Who else but Mao?

Really fabulous roof tiles!

Lama Temple

No trip to China is complete without a walk on the great wall!

One souvenir being sold at the great wall was huge fur hats.

Shanghai

One of the few sights we saw in Shanghai, since we ended spending our time in this city watching DVD's! This was taken on the Bund (riverside) at night.

Rice Terraces and Rats

2007-12-22T19:59:00.000-08:00

While Tim was up north checking out Kung Fu, I headed south to Yangshou. When I arrived, I decided I wanted to be someplace quieter, and took off for the small village of Xingping. Here I met Marnie, another solo woman traveler, and we decided to go to even smaller, hike-in only villages off the road. After four bus journeys we arrived in Pingan, which is famous for its amazing, steeply engineered rice terraces and home to several of China's minority groups.

China's minority groups are big business. Tourists, particularly Chinese tourists, like to see the minorities singing, dancing, or doing other 'traditional' things, while dressed in traditional clothing, even though it is now more often then not made in Chinese factories and worn on top of blue jeans. They also love to shop at tacky 'minority craft' souvenir shops, mostly owned by Han Chinese and featuring mass produced factory goods. Sometimes it gets the flavor of a human zoo! I will admit that I also enjoy seeing different groups of people who live differently than I do (whether minority or not), although I usually seek a more authentic experience than what China tourism often offers. But then, China's tacky tourist sites are an authenticly Chinese experience all their own!

After staying one night in Pingan, Marnie and I planned to walk three hours to Dazia. As we started off in a thick fog that limited visibility to about 20 feet, we met a group coming from Dazia who warned us to take a guide. They said they would not have made it without one. We hesitated for a bit, before deciding to go for it on our own.

On the trail we soon caught up with two beautiful Yao women in hand embroidered clothing carrying baskets on their backs. The women lived in a small village on the way to Dazai and insisted on hiking with us. At one point in the journey, they stopped and uncovered a hidden scythe and began chopping wood for that evenings fire with it. One of the women then let down her nearly ankle length hair and recoiled it around her head. The Yao women wear their hair coiled up somewhat like a Sikhs turban with a large bun in the front. The bun is visible but the rest they cover with a black cloth. They use not only their own hair, but also long lengths of hair they get from God knows where to thicken their hairdos. After restyling their hair, the women shouldered the loads of wood and we started all off again.

One of the ladies styles her hair...

While the other chops tree branches

It was amazing how much we could understand each other despite the language barrier. By the time we reached thier village, Marnie and I decided we wanted to stay there with them, if they offered. The women did offer, and also fed us three delicius meals of rice, fish, and vegetables from the garden that day and the following morning. They toured us around the village and brought us to see the children getting out of school. As they do all over China before being dismissed, the children line up in a military style. We saw the pigs, ponies, cows, and ducks that the families keep under and around the houses. We watched as they recoiled their hair yet again, met their mother, husbands, and children. It was grandma's room that Marnie and I were going to sleep in. That evening, one of the women brought out her loom and worked on a beautifully woven jacket like the one that she was wearing. All together it was a very wonderful experience and a great view into the Yao culture...

Until...

Until that night when the rats took over the house!

Maybe I am a real wimp, but that night was hell. I shivered as I brushed a rat turd out of the bed, having a small inkling of what was to come. There was nowhere else to go, so I laid down fully clothed, pillow covered, to the overpowering scent of urea wafting up from the animals below. The cow was bellowing and the pig was squealing. The lights went out and about 15 minutes later I began to hear the rats running around, across the cloth draped ceiling and down the walls. They were chewing too, and making tapping sounds. The room must have had scores of them. I wonder if they breed them in here to eat later!

I tried to turn the light back on, but it did not work. I turned on the headlamp and laid it on the pillow next to me and tried not to sleep, fearful that a rat would run across my face. Marnie did the opposite-she put in earplugs and tried to ignore it. The headlamp disturbed the cow, who must have been able to see the light through the walls, and he began to bellow again. Despite our predicament, we could not help but laugh.

The next morning we had a good breakfast, after which I could not get out fast enough, and when we reached Pingan a few minutes after the two hourly bus left I insisted on walking down the road and trying to flag someone down. Distance! Although I had a wonderful time with the ladies and had decided that it had been worth the hell night, I still wanted distance between the rats and I, as quick as possible!

We got lucky and within minutes a plush Lexus with a leather interior had pulled over to let us in and the driver, Tang, who spoke excellent English, offered to take us all the way to Guilin. He was a factory owner/chopstick exporter traveling with a Japanese client and a Chinese/Japanese speaking man who smoked 8.00$ a pack cigarettes. For Chinese men, the cost of their cigarettes defines them, what tier of society they belong in, the social class of their friends. For Chinese women, smoking is taboo, the sign of a loose women.

I asked Tang to ask the man who smoked why Chinese men smoke so much. His answer was very eloquent "Chinese men must work very hard, all the time. We must smoke so that we don't live as long." He followed this up with a little less eloquence and a little more crude humor "Chinese men can do only two things. They can work, and they can smoke... well actually Chinese men can do three things!" We all laughed as we left the rats further and further behind us.

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Like in Kedernath, India some people like to announce their wealth by being carried around the rice terraces in doli chairs. This photo taken on the path leading to Pingan.

Corn hangs to dry throughout China

The two ladies moving up the trail ahead of us as we left Pingan.

In this fog, the visibility across the terraces was quite low.

Gold barked bamboo in the fog.

Walking through the foggy terraces loaded down with wood for the nights cooking and heating.

One of the ladies in front of her home. The houses are huge barn like structures. The first floor is where the animals and toilet are located.

A man we met walking through the village.

The children lined up, military style, before being dismissed from school.

Fresh vegetables for our dinner!

Feeding baby with chopsticks.

Dad with baby

Working the loom under grandma's watchful eye.

Grandma is a bit shy about photos but she let me take this one. She is a widow, and thus wears black. The married women all wear the bright pink embroidered clothing that they make themselves.

The family's ancestor shrine. There are many clocks, all stopped at various times, perhaps at the time of death of various ancestors. The largest is next to grandpas photo. A matching clock still ticks opposite. We believe this might be grandmas clock.

A breakfast of steaming rice

Some views of the terraces as the fog lifted on our way out

Marnie, the two ladies, and I saying goodbye. They walked back to Pingan with us so we would not get lost.

Waging War on the Bus Touts

2007-12-22T19:24:00.000-08:00

Author Paul Theroux says that the Chinese have a special laugh that means "we can always fool a foreigner" and I agree with him. Especially when it comes to pricing. I was fooled, paying 20 Yuan bus fair to Yangshou, after which I saw the locals handing over various smaller amounts, none more than 10 Y. I went to the front of the bus and threw a fit, to no avail. The touts had run off with my extra money. I decided to declare war on the Yangshou/Guilin bus line.

My next ride between the cities, I handed over 10 Y without asking the price. The lady demanded 15 and I refused, waving her on to collect from the other passengers. She gave my ten back contemptuously and began collecting fares from other passengers. They all had 10 ready, she would say something to them, and then they gave her 15. I knew that tricky woman was saying "just give me 15, I'll give you 5 back later. There are foreigners on the bus I need to fool." All that was missing was the laugh. She came back for my money, telling me it was express bus (it was not). What could I do? Reluctantly I handed over 15. Sure enough, throughout the bus ride when she thought I was not looking, she sneakily handed a bill back to each of the locals who had overpaid! All that for an extra 5 Yuan! I went to the front of the bus and threw a fit, to no avail (this is starting to sound familiar).

My final ride, determined to pay the local price, I armed myself with a 10 Yuan note. Having waved down the bus to Guilin on the road, I waved the bill around, refusing to get on until the bus conductor said OK. Finally, vindication! I paid the same fare the locals paid. All this to save 5 Yuan!

The Birthplace of Kung Fu

2007-12-21T01:18:00.000-08:00

The Birthplace of Kung Fu (Tim's post)

Tim and I decided to take seperate itineraries for two weeks, as he wanted to visit the Shaolin monestary, and I wanted to jet down south towards warmth. The following is Tim's experiance at Shaolin monestary.

Having studied several martial arts in the past, my visit to China would not have been complete without a visit to the Shaolin Temple, the birthplace of Shaolin Kung Fu. In the 6th century, and Indian monk named Bodhidharma is thought to have introduced the temple monks to a system of exercises to improve their health between long periods of meditation. These exercises evolved into different forms and were spread across Asia to become distinct martial arts styles in China and other Asian countries.

While Yarrow was enjoying experiences in rural southern China, I spent three days in Dengfeng, the "Kung Fu City" near Shaolin Temple. Most of the kung fu schools that started in or near Shaolin have relocated to Dengfeng. There are probably a dozen large schools (1000+ students) and many smaller ones. I visited a few schools to see their facilities and get information about training for foreigners. At one school I saw 5 foreigners training and got to talk with two of them about their experience. Most of the Chinese students train outside and it's quite entertaining to watch a thousand kids at one time practicing kung fu forms, acrobatics, weapons and fighting. There are few foreigners here now because it is very cold. They like to train during the warm, wet summer months. I can't blame them!

On Sunday I finally visited the "Shaolin Scenic Area". I was told it was super touristy so I was prepared to be let down, but it was quite fun and I could have spent a lot more time there. The temple itself has been restored recently but still looks old. Aside from its significance as the birthplace of Kung Fu, it doesn't have a lot of memorable sights. It is built on a low angled slope so you climb stairs from one courtyard to the next as you move towards the back of the complex. One hall has paintings of monks in kung fu practice. A side courtyard has terracotta monks in various kung fu training and fighting poses. In my opinion the Lama Temple in Beijing is similar in design but much more interesting to visit as there are so many pilgrims burning incense and honoring the statues.

The scenic area has a training center east of the Shaolin Temple that stages performances for tourists five times a day. I wasn't expecting anything too great, as more than one traveler had spoken negatively about it. However, this was really amazing. I even stayed in the building to see a second performance.

The performance started with a group of monks doing routines with the Shaolin staff doing many turns, jumps, and beating the ground. Next a young boy monk did some amazing flexibility stretches and acrobatics. Notably, he was sitting with his legs in the yoga lotus position before he moved smoothly into a head stand with his legs still interlocked.

Several monks demonstrated kung fu animal boxing forms with a lot of spins, flips and crazy movements. In the 2nd show they pulled a few audience members in to try to imitate the monks, which was quite hilarious and shows how difficult it is to learn.

The most interesting to me was the Shaolin Hard Qi Gong demo. The monks focus their energy with breathing and movements before doing feats of strength. The first monk broke two metal plates over his head. The second boy monk did one finger push ups and two finger handstand push ups. The final monk attempted to throw a small nail through a plate of glass to burst a balloon. He failed on the first try but then succeeded on the second throw. The plate of glass looked like it had been shot through with a small bullet! I was told it takes many years of practice before one can reach these levels of Qi Gong mastery.

The final act was a demonstration of 10 different Shaolin weapons and some choreographed fighting with weapons. Then they broke 3cm thick sticks over a monks arm, outstretched leg and head. Most people would have been broken to pieces by these attacks but the monk was unfazed! Needless to say, I was impressed.

Overall it was a fun time and couldn't resist the urge to buy a photo of me posing with three of the kung fu monks. I didn't get to climb to Bodhidharma's meditation cave, trek into the mountains or look at anything west of the Pagoda Forest. To do those things would likely be more than a full day.

Visiting the Shaolin Temple and Dengfeng got me excited about getting back into martial arts studies when we return to the states. I have decided that I wouldn't want to study Kung Fu in Dengfeng. The schools are much like military boot camps and don't fit with my goals for training and learning. Now in Yangshuo, I started studying Yang style traditional Tai Chi and Yarrow is encouraging me to extend my visa to continue studying Chinese language and Tai Chi for another month or two. I would then meet her again in New Zealand or South America for the last few months of our trip. Even though it would be tough for both of us to be apart so long, I will likely never have so much "free" time to be able to spend a few months in China again so it seems like a good plan.

Mao's Resting Place

2007-12-14T00:16:00.000-08:00

Mao's mausoleum dominates one end of Tienanmen square. I do not know of any other modern day leader who lays within such a monumental building; it seems ironic to me that this ancient practice was revived for the head of a Communist party! Mao's body is preserved inside with formaldehyde.

I joined the throngs of Chinese for a glimpse of the countries past leader. Young and old, urban and farmer, are all lined up alike, in typical Chinese fashion, between yellow lines painted on the pavement and kept in order by police yelling into bullhorns. Eventually the line splits in two and each line goes into one of two identical buildings to be screened by police and metal detectors. No bags or cameras are allowed inside. Afterwards the lines snake into the building. The first room you enter is huge, with a gigantic, white marble Mao sitting in a gigantic, white marble, shell patterned easy chair. Behind him, a 100 foot long needle point tapestry, depicting China's mountains, stretches across most of the wall. In front is a mini jungle of potted green plants and piles of roses.

From here you are herded down one of two halls and into the small inner chamber. Here, inside a glass enclosed area, two police officers stand guard over Mao's glass coffin. Mao's body inside is tiny, shrunken by death, and covered with the red hammer and sickle communist flag. His shoulders, clothed in a dark suit, are visible above the covering, as is his face, bathed in an eery, unnatural, golden light and looking stiff and waxy. The people are all quiet as they file by, straining for a better glimpse. In the next room, capitalism reigns in the display cases of Mao memorabilia for sale.

I walked outside into the cool air and stopped to turn and carefully study the faces of the people leaving. I have never seen a group of Chinese so quiet, so somber, and I wonder, what are they thinking?
Why are they here?
Are they paying their respects?
Are they casting off old shadows?
What memories are they reliving in their minds?
Finally, when we passed the outer gates where all the cheerful family members are waiting, yelling out, and snapping photos, finally then we re-enter the world of the living.

When in Rome...(or China)

2007-12-13T23:59:00.000-08:00

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or, when in China, do as the Chinese do. And, as some people might know, the Chinese like to eat dog-lots of dog!

Now most of you who know me, know me as a vegetarian. But, when we began this trip I decided that if I was strict about this, I would, at worse starve (and I would have in Central Asia!), and at best miss out on a lot of new and exciting culinary experiences.

So that is why I sat in a Chinese restaurant and ate Fluffy. Now, when the Chinese serve you Fluffy, it's not just the prime cuts; the T-bone or the rump or the ribs. No, there is some liver, some heart, some tiny kidneys, and some who knows what in your dish as well. For those of you curious about what dog meat tastes like, the way I had it was very much like beef jerky-dark, tough, stringy, and salty. Well, enough culinary experiences for now; tomorrow I think I'll order the mushrooms and bamboo!

Xiahe-Meeting a Lama

2007-11-25T18:14:00.000-08:00

A small boy hides from me

Meeting a Lama

Xiahe is home to the Labrang Monastery, one of the most important monastery towns in Tibetan Buddhism and a major pilgrimage place. Tim and I were doing the prayer wheel circuit alongside a couple who took their wallet out and presented it to the Buddha statues in each of the temples and who informed us that at 3:00 we could see the resident Lama, who is a reincarnation of a past Lama and now maybe 8-10 years old.

We showed up in the outer courtyard of his private apartments a little before three to find a small gathering of pilgrims dressed in there very finest, cleanest, and most colorful clothing and dripping with coral, turquoise, and silver jewelry. The couple who had told us to come here was getting their wallet out, ready to be blessed yet again. When the door opened to the inner courtyard the people rushed in and formed a single file line to offer the Lama money and white scarves, collected by a monk at the bottom of the steps. The Lama was seated on the porch, on a high, richly colored fabric draped table with a fuchsia cloaked monk on either side.

Tim and I pulled out about $1.40 each and slipped into the line with the other pilgrims. When the pilgrims approached the Lama, they bowed their heads and he whacked them on the top of the head with a yellow fabric wrapped bundle. When I reached the Lama he looked at me strangely, but recovered quickly and tapped my head with his bundle. I wonder if he has ever hit a honky on the head before! Tim was behind me, and got whacked hard. When everyone had payed his respects to and received blessings from the boy Lama, he then proceeded to carefully fold a paper airplane and fly it across the porch.

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I did not take any photos on the day Tim and I went to see the lama, but the following day I went back, slipped quietly into the shadow of the doorway, and snapped this shot.Click on it to enlarge and see the boy Lama better.

Pilgrims leaving the courtyard of the Lama. The women wear large silver and coral ornaments on their waists.

A pilgrim on the prayer wheel circuit. This circuit is 3 Km long, with over 1100 prayer wheels. I walked it each day, along side colorfully dressed pilgrims-some prostrating themselves around the entire thing-and fuchsia cloaked monks. All though many of the people walked the circuit with a focused, almost desperate, determination, some pilgrims would turn to give me the thumbs up sign (usually when I had the camera hidden!).

Some of the pilgrims and people of Xiahe

This beautiful Tibetan lady has huge silver and coral earrings.

A man getting his ears cleaned in the street

Collecting sage branches for the holy fires

A shopkeeper takes a snooze in the Muslim area

Boy eating a banana

Some of the monks from the monastery

The Yellow Hat sect is named for these distinctive hats the monks wear

The monk blowing into this long horn is hidden in the doorway

Tim and I overlooking the monastery from the top of the Golden Pagoda

Inside the Golden Pagoda

Another overview of the monastery and monks quarters from the hills beside the monastery

A closer shot of some of the golden roofs

Mao's Quote:

"We must undoubtedly criticise wrong ideas of every description. It certainly would not be right to refrain from criticism, look on while wrong ideas spread unchecked and allow them to monopolize the field. Mistakes must be criticised and poisonous weeds fought wherever they crop up."

"Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung" 1966, Foreign Languages Press.

Please note that Mao's quotes are presented for informational purposes only, and do not reflect the opinions of the blog author!

Breathing Trouble!!

2007-11-25T17:55:00.000-08:00

China is the most polluted place on earth! People burn everything-leaves, trash, fields, etc. Factories spewing various colors of smoke dot the landscape. Everyone heats with coal in their homes and businesses. Although we have purportedly been in several cities surrounded by mountains, we haven't seen them. Stars? What are those?

In addition to outdoor pollution, indoors almost every man in China smokes. Chain smokes, right under the nonsmoking sign. I have become the cigarette Nazi, pointing to peoples cigarettes and then the signs. It's a losing battle. The women don't smoke. Why? The men think its gross if they do!

People here do not seem to be aware of the health dangers posed by the constant thick haze of smoke that settles over the landscape and obscures the horizon. Many times we have seen high rise apartment blocks literally in the shadow of a large, spewing factory, right in the dead zone. You would think that someone would realize that since nothing grows there, maybe they shouldn't live there!

Tim and I noticed that many people wear clothe face masks. We even bought some. We were discussing how some people became aware of the pollution, when we were informed that the people wear the masks for the cold, not the pollution.Sometimes I see a person wearing an old, white mask. The nostril and mouth areas are black.

A small factory along the road

Sunrise on a bright, clear day, believe it or not.

Skyline of a "modern commercial and industrial city" in China.

Here is a close up of that big spewer. This one might only be steam.

Typical heating and cooking smoke that comes from every home and small business in China

Burning leaves and trash by the road.

Burning branches in Xiahie

Part of the Jiayuguan fort with it's factory backdrop

This view of the fort should have big, beautiful snow mountains for a backdrop.

This one is only spewing a bit of smoke

Mao's quote of the day from the little red book.

A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another.

"Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung" 1966, Foreign Languages Press.

Please note that Mao's quotes are presented for informational purposes only, and do not reflect the opinions of the blog author!

Turpan

2007-11-24T20:53:00.000-08:00

After arriving in Urumqi, we quickly got on a bus to Turpan. Our first thought on arrival to the brightly lit Chinese center of the city was "why do so many people recommend this place?" Once we began to wander through the old town with its traditional mud brick courtyard homes and old bearded men riding in donkey carts we began to see Turpan's charm. There was a night market where what by day was a clean, paved parking lot became an outdoor restaurant with many vendors selling dirt cheap shashlik, stir fry, and steamed dumplings, all cooked on portable coal grills. In one corner you could even find such delicacy's as cows lung and sheep head. We ate here nightly, with a bottle of Turpan wine, a steal at $1.60.

The Chinese are sometimes a bit weird. One thing we have seen in several towns is birds with noise makers. I first encountered these birds in Turpan, when I heard overhead a sound something like a large motored airplane. I looked up to see that it was a flock of birds, of which at least one had been caught and outfitted with a noisemaker.

We arrived into Turpan just in time for the raisin harvest. The grapes had been harvested and hung to dry and now people were sorting the raisins in huge piles on the oily pavement, after which they were bagged with garden shovels. Seeing this method of handling, Tim and I decided not to eat any. This really upset one young vendor. When we refused to purchase some he began screaming at us "please, please, my family raisin! please, it's my family raisin"

Another interesting thing we saw in Turpan was the city dump. Interesting because it was the way the entire thing was sorted into neat little piles-fabric scraps, metal, bicycle tires, cardboard, different thickness of paper, and plastic and glass containers of all sizes. There was even a cloths line hung between two trees where scavangable clothing was hung.

While Tim hung out in Turpan, I took a day trip one day by bus to a small Uyger village called Tuyoq . Here it seems like the people live like they must have for centuries. Their mud brick courtyard homes were interspersed throughout the crumbled homes of the past. Muezzins climbed to the mosque roof to call out the prayer call the old fashioned way, with no loudspeakers. But still, progress creeps in-there was an oil well in the middle of the fields.

Hanging out

Outdoor pool

Exercise in the park

An old Uyger man

A typical donkey cart

The Emin minaret behind some fields and large, well ventilated brick buildings used for drying grapes

Sorting raisins on the pavement

Tuyoq

A typical courtyard home

Homes mixed in with the ruins of the past

I have recently gotten a hold of Mao's little red book in English. At the end of each blog in China, I will share a paragraph or so out of the book. Please note that I am doing so for informational purposes only and that the quotations I choose to share do not reflect my own opinions!

Mao's quote from the little red book for today:

"For instance, to arrest, try and sentence certain counter-revolutionaries, and to deprive landlords and bureaucrat-capitalists of their right to vote and their freedom of speech for a specified period of time-all this comes within the scope of our dictatorship. "

"Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung" 1966, Foreign Languages Press.

Please note that Mao's quotes are presented for informational purposes only, and do not reflect the opinions of the blog author!

Stowaways

2007-11-21T02:28:00.000-08:00

Getting on the train to China proved to be a very interesting experience in corruption. The ticket clerk in Almaty, Kazakhstan told me that train tickets from Almaty to Urumqi were sold out for a week. Knowing that there was sure to be ticket sellers lurking outside the train station, I went out and started asking everyone loitering around "bilet, bilet" (ticket) while Tim watched the bags. Many people came forward with tickets, wanting 2X the normal price! Most of them would not bargain, but finally, after some stiff negotiation, I found someone who told me he could get the tickets for only slightly higher than the actual rate. At this point I got my bags and Tim and I went outside together, after which we and the man were surrounded by a small mob, including three women who tried to drag me off to God knows where. To escape them the man punched the women's arm -hard- and when she let go, he dragged me at a run through the train station and past the guards to the train yard, followed by Tim and then the women. One of the women fell flat on her face chasing us! I am amazed that the guards did not try to figure out what was going on. At this point we had no idea what was going on ourselves, only that the man had promised us tickets. It was only later, when a railroad employee showed up that we realized that we would have no tickets and would be taking the staff berth of one of the train cars. We boarded the train several hours early in the dark and waited while cars were being added and removed and the car was being prepared. Our two person train berth was very comfortable and private and it was a relief not to have to try to make conversation in a language we barely understand. Of course, the train staff who gave up their beds and slept sitting in the stewards compartment keep all the money except the commission they paid to the man who made the arrangements, and possibly any bribes paid to border officials. At the border, a border guard who spoke excellent English told us that there was available space on the train but that since we were foreigners with most likely little time and lots of money that the ticket lady would not sell us the tickets. This way the ticket brokers that buy lots of tickets could have a crack at us! The brokers charge double and pay the ticket agents a commission to do this. Of course, all this is not entirely legal but no one pays any attention to it, at least not in Kazakhstan. When we reached Urumqi, the passengers on our train car all began to gather outside of the car. They were talking about us; I kept hearing Biz Bilet, Biz Bilet (without ticket). We were made to understand that we should wait for the group to leave the station. Soon we found out why: the Chinese check passenger tickets on exit from the train station. With the whole train car knowing we did not have tickets, they all grouped together to keep the officials busy while Tim and I slipped past them. Overall it was an interesting experience and fortunately worked out well for us. It certainly would not have happened like this in the US. If tickets were sold out for a week, we would have had to wait a week! Of course, we probably would not have been lied to about ticket availability in the first place.

Uzbekistan, Bukhara

2007-11-12T03:44:00.000-08:00

Bukhara was our favorite Uzbek city. It was more lived in than Khiva, and had a more old town atmosphere than Samarkand.

When it comes to technology, Uzbekistan is the most backward country Tim and I traveled. To make an international phone call, you have to go to the post office and have them connect you the old fashioned way. In addition to being very expensive, you ended up listening to four conversations at once. Internet was dial up, and a poor dial up connection at that. And the currency is hilarious. The largest bill you could get was worth less than a dollar. So, despite the fact that people do not have a lot of money, everyone walks around with giant wads of bills.

When Tim and I went to Central Asia, we expected that the people would be happy to no longer be a part of the Soviet Union. So it was to our surprise that many people talked of Soviet days with fondness. According to these people, it was easier then to get good medical care, as they could go to Moscow. Things were more affordable, as opposed to now when inflation is very high. Other people lamented the splitting of the central Asian people into many different countries. Of course, not everyone agreed with this viewpoint. One business man explained to us that "In Soviet times it was very easy and the people grew very lazy! The government paid for everything." Another man told us that communism was bad because it "sucks everything dry". Democracy was bad because "it's all about money". Of course, one has to keep in mind that Uzbekistan is not exactly a good example of democracy in any way. Tim asked him "well, what would be good?" The answer? "Islam!"

The enclosed courtyard of the women's section in a 19th century wealthy merchants home

Tim and I in 19th century wealthy merchants dress.

It's me under there. If I had wanted to leave the house in the 19th century, this is what I would have worn. It is really heavy-the women must have developed very strong necks!

The Emirs summer palace

Ruined salt and chemical encrusted soil

A few more of the Uzbek people

An old medresa gate in Bukhara

A large Bukhara mosque, medresa, and minaret complex

Tile detail

Tashkent bazaar

Tashkent back street

Uzbekistan; Fergana, Samarkand, and Khiva

2007-11-10T22:44:00.001-08:00

We spent about three weeks in Uzbekistan, mostly looking at the beautifully tiled monuments and frequenting bazaars. Uzbekistan bazaars were very orderly, with wide walkways and permanent, uniformly designed shop counters. While walking through the bazaars, many people would stop us to talk, and to give us things-fruit, pottery, a silk purse. The people of Uzbekistan had beautiful, big smiles and many gold teeth. We enjoyed Uzbekistan for its history and its people.

Before entering Uzbekistan we were in Osh, which is a largely Uzbek but was made a part of Kyrgyzstan by Soviet gerrymandering. Here people were very vocal about the government in Uzbekistan, telling us many things about government corruption and repression of peoples rights. These people all believed that they personally were better off and had better lives because Osh was in Kyrgyzstan territory. Once we arrived in Uzbekistan, the people where very quiet about the government. Sometimes we gently tried to draw them out, asking how they liked living here. The response was always "the sun is shining" with a gesture towards the heavens. I always felt very sad whenever I heard this response. We saw a few signs of the things we heard of. Everywhere we went in Uzbekistan there was many government military checkpoints. The Internet was filtered, which is why I was unable to properly update the blog. Many people talked of trying to leave, and some asked us to help them with invitations to America. In Tashkent the police attempted to take us in a small room and search us so they could remove us of our money. We loudly told them no in Russian and they reluctantly let us go.

Fergana Valley, Uzbekistan

Spinning silk thread at the silk factory, Fergana valley

Colorfully dressed women in Fergana

Samarkand, Uzbekistan

Shakh Zindah Mausoleums, Samarkand

The Guir Emir Mosoleum, where Tamerlane was interred, used over 17 Kilograms of gold in its interior decoration

A typical Uzbekistan street

The Registan Madressa complex, Samarkand

Close up of the dome, Registan

Intricate tile work in the Registon

Tile work detail, Samarkand

Beautifully carved door in a mosque minaret. Samarkand

Carved door in the Jewish cemetary, Samarkand

People of Samarkand

Women in Samarkand's bazaar selling ready made salads

Samarkand bazaar

A girl in her school uniform. Samarkand

An Uzbek family, Samarkand

It's the wedding season in Uzbekistan and all the brides look like they are about to be hanged.

Tim on a park bench

Khiva, Uzbekistan

Ladies watching the world from their porch step

Painted ceiling in Khiva

Many of the doors are beatifully carved throughout Uzbekistan

Me, in front of 800 year old carved pillar in a Khivan mosque

The city gate in old town Khiva

Freedom

2007-11-10T21:56:00.000-08:00

Many times in this blog I have talked about the various ways in which people have told Tim and I that they disagree with the current policies of the American government, and I have not hid my own disillusionment. However, for many people, even some of those critical of our government, America still stands for the 'land of the free', and this is an ideal that many people yearn for. People in many countries we have visited must deal day to day with repression of speech, of religion, of economic opportunity, and rampant government corruption. The media is censored. Internet is filtered. Any type of dissent is not tolerated. Visiting these countries has given me a new appreciation for where I come from.

While I myself disagree with the international policies of my country...while I believe that America operates on a double standard, striving to provide economic prosperity and freedom for its citizens but at the same time allowing the suppression of the citizens of other countries as needed to protect our interests...while I am embarrassed because of the current mess America has created in much of the world, I am still thankful to be an American citizen. I am thankful to have the freedoms and rights that I have, thankful to be able to travel as we do, to have the economic opportunities we have. Thankful to be unafraid of the police trying to extort money. Thankful to be able to openly disagree with my government, something that in many countries would get me imprisoned without due process of the law.

These freedoms are fragile, and nothing will erode them faster than fear. Fear like that caused by the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and reinforced by our government propaganda in the so called 'war on terror'. This war on terror has already begun to erode our freedoms. Freedom is precious. Guard it as something precious and possibly fleeting, and strive to respect and protect the freedoms of people throughout the world regardless of circumstance.

"In America freedom, liberty. Here no liberty, no talk. Talk...jail."

"I want to travel. In America you can travel freely. Here, it is very difficult for us to go anywhere."

"For us, there is no economic opportunity."

"Many people are arrested. Some just disappear. You cannot speak openly."

"regime"

"dictatorship"

"repression"

"Our faces our laughing, but our hearts are not laughing."

Crossing the street

2007-11-10T21:54:00.000-08:00

Osh Bazaar is a huge, bustling bazaar that stretches for several kilometers along both sides of the river that winds through the city. To get there was one obstacle: crossing a busy street filled with horn honking taxis, mini-buses, and motorbikes. Tim made it across, but after several false starts, I began to despair ever getting to the other side. Then an old lady took my arm, and speaking rapidly to me in Russian, Kirghiz, or Uzbek, she began to slowly lead me across the street. Now, instead of the squeal of horns as the automobiles whizzed by, I heard the squeal of brakes as they screeched to a stop and smiling, waved us slowly by.

A butcher at Osh Bazaar

A colorful vender in the Osh Bazaar

Saimaluu Tash

2007-10-11T05:43:00.000-07:00

No one told us it was a good idea to try to get to the Saimaluu Tash petroglyphs. Everyone said that it was way past the season, and way too cold. But those who know me, know how much I love petroglyphs and that I would not be too easily deterred. Saimaluu Tash is a collection of over 100,000 ancient petroglyphs high up in a mountain bowl. To get there, Tim and I would have to take a taxi from Jalala Bot over a mountain pass to a small village, then a four wheel drive up a jeep road, and finally hike 12 kilometers into a mountain bowl. The morning we had arranged to take the taxi brought bad news. The pass we had to drive over was closed due to a storm. Tim looked at our map and found another possible route. We would take a taxi to a small village this side of the mountain range, hike 35 kilometers up a valley and go over a pass by foot. After this, we would drop back down into the bowl where the petroglyphs are located. We reached the village and the taxi driver offered to take us as far as he could up the narrow road, ultimately shaving 15 kilometers off of our journey. We then began walking. The nomads were on there way out of the high country with their sheep, horses, and cows while we were on our way in. They kept saying to us "mnoga snic, mnoga snic". Much snow, much snow. We did not see that much snow, so we kept hiking. A Russian lady invited us for tea and fed us lunch, with chickens running around our feet begging. Yes, begging! The next morning a snow storm moved into the valley. Hoping that it would stop snowing and melt off, we hiked a miserable three hours before setting up camp, where we remained that day and the next. The fourth day dawned bright and clear, and hope began to return. We hiked to look at the route and saw that the snow was melting fast. We decided to give it the day to melt, and hike to the petroglyphs the next day. The following day we climbed up the pass, and back down to the petroglyphs. There was a foot of snow on the north side where the petroglyphs were, but they are carved on black rocks so they were partially melted out and visible. We trudged around in a foot of snow for three hours in our tennis shoes looking at them and finally hiked back to camp when we thought our feet would fall off from cold. The snow covered boulder field was treacherous, and we spent much of the time post holing with one leg, while the other banged forward onto the rocks. The petroglyphs were wonderful, though, and very well preserved due to the remote location. We saw mountain sheep, horses, dogs, Ibex, plows, people dancing, shooting bow and arrow, and other various carvings. Leaving the valley the next day with hardly any food left, we got lucky again, and caught a ride out of the valley with a Kirghiz nomad family moving into town for winter with everything they owned in a huge truck - including a donkey. We helped them load up. All of their worldly belongings consisted of the donkey, a puppy, a bunch of quilts, a hand made wool rug, several huge wooden crates of apples, a wood burning stove, a few buckets, pails, and pots, and a plastic clock wrapped carefully in a towel. They did not ask for money, but we gave them 500 som (about 15$). Way too much, but we were happy to get a ride, and I am sure that the truck they drove ate up petrol like crazy.

Looking up the valley towards the pass we went over

Shepherds on their way to winter grounds

Looking down the bowl towards the petroglyphs

The petroglyphs

Me in the boulder field

Tim in the snow covered boulder field. Is that love or what?

The truck and home of the family that brought us out of the valley

Mom, this rock was to heavy to bring back but I photographed it for you