Boomerang Boots

Day by Day Play by Play

2010-03-14T13:27:00.000-07:00

I'm finally stateside! It has been an amazing and rocky journey (literally); I've kept up on a handwritten journal as much as I could when i wasn't being thrown from wall to wall in the 21 foot swells of the Drake Passage--over the next few days I'll get each entry up and running for your reading pleasure!

From BOS to MIA to MIA

2010-03-02T18:29:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am safely in Buenos Aires, Argentina--I flew from Boston on Saturday into Miami and then down South. I have plenty to say, and trust me, it has already been a bit of a "Kelly" adventure (which most of you will know what I mean by this)--I'm keeping a journal and taking tons of photos and video. Unfortunately, you're going to have to wait until I arrive back on March 14th because I will not have an internet connection and will be MIA.

I want to thank you all for your support--the race is in four days and I would not be here without you.

Thank you and I'll post everything as soon as I can!!!

The Last Marathon

2010-02-21T05:19:00.000-08:00

This opportunity has been a long time coming. About a year and a half ago, when I started running around the globe, one of my goals was to run a marathon on every continent, to raise awareness for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society, avoid becoming a fatty, and possibly make a personal debut in the Guinness Book of world records (to be the youngest person to run a marathon on every continent). I was crushed when I failed to be relieved from the wait-list last March during my travels.

Finally, my friends, my time has come.

That's right. On Christmas Eve I received an e-mail from Marathon Tours stating that I, indeed, would finally be added to the 2010 Antarctica Marathon roster. What a gift!

There's a little hiccup in my plans, however. The race is March 6th; I will be leaving in exactly two months for the two week trip. As one could imagine, an expedition of this demeanor does not come cheaply. I have a bit of money in the bank and have already received some very generous donations in order to make my dream become a reality. Brace yourself while I throw out this number....the excursion costs a whopping $6400. I know, it makes my eyes water to look at that price tag. I am currently looking for sponsors and am prepared to empty my bank account and/or open a new credit card to cover the cost. However, I am also extending my pleading eyes to the gracious hearts of my family and friends.

You all have supported me through my arduous international excursion, running the world for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, the Tusk Fund, Action for Cheetahs in Kenya, Takatifu Gardens, YogaMagic, as well as numerous other charitable organizations. I look to you, again, for your kinda words, strong hearts and anything else you may be able to offer. If you, or anyone else you may know, would like to contribute to helping me cross the finish line of my 7th continent, raising awareness for a charity that is near and dear to my heart and possibly planting me in the Guinness Book of World Records, please, don't hesitate to let me know.

Thank you for all of your support; words cannot truly express my gratitude.

The Final Countdown.

2009-08-05T09:03:00.001-07:00

Once we got back into Nairobi, I left Elissa to jet back to the Bush camp to switch my things while she got us bus tickets to Mombassa. I hung out for a bit, then we caught the overnight bus at ten p.m. The seats were comfy enough, but we got the last to spaces, so we were in the back and the roads are terribly bumpy, like, so bumpy you literally fly out of your seat. Needless to say, it was difficult to get a proper amout of shut-eye. We took a matatu to a ferry and then another matatu and then a Tuk Tuk to get to The Glory Palace Hotel, which is off of Diani Beach. It was $15 total for a double room, including breakfast and our own bathroom. There was even a pool! I spent four days unwinding by lying by the pool, heading down to the beach to sit at the 40 Thieves Restaurant and bar along the crashing waves, reading some books, and eating Mangos. It was perfect.

I headed back to Nairobi to pick up some last minute gifts and have one last night why my loves at the Bush Hostel and Camp before flying out on July 23rd, a solid ten months from my departure date. Wow. I flew into London and had a 19-hour layover where I stayed with Tania, who I had met in Goa, India, and her beautiful family. It was phenomenal to catch up with her and meet her daughters and husband. She sent me off to my flight the next day back to Boston. AHHHH. Bry Riggs was waiting for me at the airport with an “I Love Kelly” button on her shirt. lol. We were chatting non-stop on the way back to the Park Plaza Hotel where my parents and uncle were waiting for me. My mom started crying the minute she saw me across the lobby. We all embraced for the first time in over a year—I cannot describe how amazing it is to see your friends and family after such a long time along. My mom and dad were wearing shirts that had screen printed pictures of my face on them. The front had a picture of me running from the Khon Kaen race and it said “5 continents, 5 marathons” and on the back there was a picture of me at Kala Pattar with Everest in the background saying “and hiked to the base camp of Mt. Everest. Kelly, you rock!!” hahahaha I love my family. It’s good to be home.

Where is Mt. Kenya? Oh, it’s in Kenya.

2009-08-05T09:02:00.000-07:00

I got back to Nairobi and ran errands/relaxed for the next two days. I met some cool people around the hostel; namely, a bunch of Dutch guys who were there for school/work and Erin Clark, a girl from San Diego who had actually been in the Peace Corps for the past two years with a good friend of mine from MN, Bryce Gloppen. Small world! I hung out with her and her brother before they left for the beach and I left for my four day hike up Mt. Kenya.

I met at the office at eight a.m. and found out that I was hiking with another girl who was actually from North Carolina but lives in Western Massachusetts. Her name is Elissa; a 26 year old who was working as a deaf interpreter when she was in Kenya with the Peace Corps two years ago; she had to be pulled out early due to the post-election violence and has been in MA since. We spent most of the day in matatus. After having lunch in a restaurant, we met up with two Dutch kids and a German girl who were hiking with us, as well. The first day was an easy, 9km uphill walk along a road to the Old Moses camp at 3300 meters. We went through the bush and an open, charred area that had been burned in an accidental fire back in January. It was so sad to see how much of the area was destroyed due to someone’s carelessness. We stayed in a big dorm room which was freeeezing. Upon arrival, we had teatime and dinner (which consisted of massive amounts of food that neither of us could consume even half of) before heading to bed early.

We were up at six and out the door by seven the next day. The view here was better since we were in areas not destroyed by flames. We went up over and down a massive valley, then along cliff sides and rocky paths through dense clouds up to the second hut. We got in after about eight hours. We had dinner while playing cards (though the deck was a couple short) until maybe eight p.m. when we tucked ourselves in our sleeping bags with hot water bottles to get a few hours of sleep before our three a.m. wake up call. We started hiking a little before four in the morning to try and summit by sunrise. I made sure to highly caffeinate for the long, steep hike. We trekked slowly under the stars (I saw TWO shooting stars!) because the terrain consisted of crumbling rocks and the altitude was making breathing a struggle. Elissa was having difficulty with the altitude, so we had to make a lot of stops. I kept trying to give her tips to move easier because I knew exactly how she was feeling from when I hiked to Mt. Everest Base Camp. However, I didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all, either; I know I easy get pissy when I’m struggling physically and knew that that would not have helped. The sun was lifting when we were overlooking a beautiful lake. Sammy, our guide, took her pack and we made it to the top at almost eight a.m. The view was stunning! Brown/orange rocks jutting into the sky with lakes and plateaus in the distance and a glacier hanging out behind us.

We hiked three hours to our breakfast spot where we passed out for a bit, then had to continue down four hours past the lakes and some crazy plants/flowers (see flickr account for all of this photos, they provide a better picture than my words do when describing nature) to our lunch spot in a small clearing along a babbling brook. We then had to walk another 7km down a road to our camping spot. We had a proper two person tent to share where I immediately huddled in a ball, only to escape for a quick dinner and a hot water bottle to shove down my shirt in order to be warm enough to sleep.

The next day, we had to walk 32 km down a road to town for a matatu. I was miserable because my knee was killing me (too many marathons too close together, I can only assume). at 22km, a man with a car offered to drive us for 400ksh—yes!!! We had a lunch of Kinyedji (sp?) which is mashed potatoes with peas, maize, and beans and then spent about four hours on an extremely crowded matatu to get back to Nairobi.

Sodium Chloride like never seen before

2009-08-05T09:01:00.000-07:00

I took a bus back to Naivasha, which didn’t drop me off in the same place it did a few weeks, prior. They let me off on the highway where a few Boda Bodas were hanging out (apparently they knew I was coming). I told the guy where I was going and he was trying to charge me ridiculous amounts; I told him I’d pay him 100ksh to bring me just into town so I could get a matatu. He argued with me for a while and we finally agreed that he could either get paid 100 to bring me to a matatu or 200 to bring me to the camp. He decided on the latter; we stopped to get some gas and when we were turning onto the road that would bring us to the camp (in the dark, mind you) the back tire skid out and we almost toppled over. Turned out his back tire went flat and we had to sit on the side of the road, again, IN THE DARK, to wait for a matatu. He kept insisting that I give him more money for his tire; it’s not my fault your tire blew out! I got in the matatu which was decked out in black lights and neon décor, and stayed at Crayfish camp the first night.

I was thoroughly unimpressed and left early in the morning to go back to Fisherman’s where I had stayed a few weeks prior. I then rented a bike and decided to go to Crater Lake. The park was 19 km away, which was fine for about 14km, the last five were extremely sandy and bumpy. I finally arrived, soaked in sweat. The man at the entrance gate gave me a few wondering options; I decided to go for a loop around the park and end up at the lake. I got lost right away; he said to go straight and at the fork go left. There were two paths that veered left so I chose the one that was well traveled. After walking for about ten minutes, I came across two men and asked them if I was on the right path to the Salt Licks (I didn’t actually know what this meant at the time) and, of course, I had chosen the wrong path. They pointed me to a short cut, basically I was to follow some overhead wires to arrive at the right spot (but don’t disturb the Buffalo….ahhhh!). I arrived in an open space filled with Zebras, Impala, Monkeys, and Giraffes. you can get so close to them! At the time, I didn’t realize that this was, indeed, the Salt Lick (no sight, wtf, how should I know!), so I kept walking until I came to a big field with another path. I followed it past cows being herded by the Masai and forests of Acacia trees until I came to an electric fence. YES! The man said to turn right at the fence and follow it to the lake. But, wait…how am I on the outside of the fence? And there’s a huge lake in front of me; is that Lake Naivasha??? How the hell did I end up outside of the park? I walked all the way back to the Giraffes and found a Kenya Wildlife Service car; I asked which direction to the lake and he pointed me in the right direction.

Oh, good, I finally found the right fence (and was on the inside this time) which brought me back to the spot where the paths originally forked….huh???? How am I back at the beginning? I took the path that said “lookout point” and ended up on the top of a hill overlooking the lake. Horray! It only took me two and a half hours to find it. I ran into a California family who told me where the path was to get down to the restaurant. I moseyed on down to find a dock leading out to a floating seating area. When I stepped out, about twenty small birds that looked like sparrows (called Plain Martins) all started flying around me in circles for a solid minute. I really didn’t know what to think about it; but it felt really amazing to be in the center of a little birdie tornado.

The water in the crater is extremely acidic with a pH of 11, causing a lot of algae to grow, coloring the water lime green and drawing in flocks of bright pink flamingos. Also, a ring of Sodium Chloride circles the lake; it’s remarkable to see all of these colors together! I sat at the restaurant and relaxed with a soda and French fries before the 19km bike ride back—exhausted! I read a bit of Obama’s “Dreams From My Father” while hovering down some beef stew and Ugali before passing out in my tent so I could head back to Nairobi in the AM.

Afro Adventures: Lewa Safaricom Marathon

2009-08-05T08:59:00.000-07:00

***Warning: some crass language***

Getting to the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy was a disaster. I was told that, through a series of matatus, I should get there in four or five hours TOPS. I left Lake Naivasha at ten a.m. and took a 60-shilling ride into Naivasha town where I was to switch to go to Nyahururu—they were charging 400ksh but when I went to the grocery store and asked around, they said it should be 200. I argued with the man trying to shove me in his matatu until I got the price down to 300 but he was super angry and giving me the stare down. Too bad, son. However, this just screwed me because the matatu took FOREVER to get going and then they made we switch vans. Whack. It was significantly farther to Nyahururu than I though; once we got there the driver was nice enough to show me where to get another to Nanyuki; thank God for him, I was harassed more here than in India. One guy wouldn’t give me my bag and said he’d carry it for me. Finally, I said he could do it if he wanted but I wasn’t going to pay him. He gave it back right away. On the way, the other drivers literally were grabbing my bags and surrounding me, trying to pull me towards their vehicle until I started screaming at them to get away. Finally, I got in the van but I wasn’t out of the woods. It sat in the lot for over an hour waiting for it to fill up with passengers, meanwhile everyone was trying to sell their goodies to the mazungu or just stood staring at me with their noses plastered up against the windows. One guy came up to me and said, “oh, it’s hot…” Then held up his cart of shriveled meat, “sausage?” NO! I don’t want your damn greasy meat stick, that’s the last thing I want to put in my mouth right now! After two hours of driving we should’ve been there, but we were actually in Nyeri, where the driver made me get out and onto another van because he wasn’t actually going to Nanyuki---UGH, why the hell did you force me on here with such a vengeance then? Another hour, I transfer to Isiolo, which took two hours and from THERE I needed a ten to twenty minute cab ride to the Lewa gate.

It was dark at this point and I wasn’t sure if he was a registered cab so I asked for his papers (Which I have no idea what they’re supposed to look like). He called my bluff and showed me something. I bargained down from 1000 to 600 ksh. We stopped at the gas station and asked for the money so he could fill up his tank. I gave him a 1000ksh bill and he tried to keep it all. I said he owed me 400 but he tried to keep driving. NO STOP! I made him make sure he had change or else he had to get out and get change at the station. He finally gave me my money but proceeded, the entire ride, to say that the trip was much further than 12km like I had said and that he should get more money. This conversation is occurring as he’s going 120km/hr down a dark, bumpy dirty road. “Please, sir, just bring me to the gate, we already discussed the pay.” There was no seatbelt, so I was bracing myself against his seat incase of a crash. The road became a big construction zone and he goes, “Ya know, it’s very dangerous out here in a cab in the dark.” I chose to ignore that statement and started to text Adele (the woman I had been in contact with the entire trip who is on staff for the race) who was having George, one of the park’s drivers, waiting for me at the gate. The cabbie couldn’t figure out where the entrance was and stopped a guy wondering down the dark road to ask; he let him IN the car—omgomgomgomgomg. George called when I texted that my cabbie was crazy and lost but my driver refused to take the phone for directions. Finally, he found the gate and I jumped out and grabbed my things as he insisted, again, I’d give him more money. NO! I ran through the gate and into George’s car who then brought me to the staff house; Adele had been worried about my safety and didn’t want me trying to pitch a tent in the dark.

I walked through a beautiful entryway to a long, candle lit table outside looking out towards the park. She immediately had me sit down and grabbed me a plate of food and a glass of wine that was SO desperately needed. I sat talking to about fifteen people who wre in charge, in one-way or another, of the race, mostly from the UK but also the USA and Australia. Adele had originally told me I could pitch my tent on the staff grounds, but then surprised me with my own room—a king-sized bed that smelled of Downy freshness (!!!!) and a bathroom with HOT pressurized showers. Yesssss. Things always work out, don’t they? I slept soundly until around seven a.m. then met everyone for breakfast—eggs my way, toast, wheatabix, porridge, bacon, beans, fruit juice, yogurt…perfection. An older woman from the States and her Aussie husband chatted with me for a while after we ate. her husband, Roger, was saying that it’s nice, yet bizarre, to just sit back and watch a race happen without doing announcing or timing and Katherine had said something about interviewing racers when I asked how they got into that. Turns out, Roger holds a world record for something (I was never exactly explained what) and Katherine was a previous NYC marathon winner as well as a pioneer for female long distance running throughout Europe. I’d been sitting chit-chatting with a bunch of world record holders, people that are ACTUALLY a big deal and I had no idea!

They all had to roll out to different meetings and such, so I sat around reading when I met Joan and Doreen, two super adorable older women who come to help with timing every year. Doreen has been in Kenya since 1961 (Originally from South Africa) and is a primary school teacher while Joan has been residing in Kenya since 1954 and describes herself as a “lay-about,” HAH! They both live with their husbands in Nairobi; we sat chatting about their lives and travels while watching wild animals roam about near the swamp not far from our seats. I was told to not leave the area around the house because predatory animals do live and wonder nearby and I could easily be hurt (i.e. consumed). I chatted with those two until George picked me up at one to bring me to registration and to set up my tent. Good thing I didn’t have to go the night before because no one was on the campgrounds yet--my sad little tent sat all alone. After, I went and wondered around the Banda for a while; it’s just a small hut/building where one can purchase souvenirs. I hung out on a picnic table ready my Obama book next to a cute guy ( ☺ ) when the rest of his running group came up. We all started chatting about traveling when one of the guys, an Italian around my age, stops me, “ wait, are you running a marathon on every continent? I saw your Facebook event and wrote on the wall. I knew I recognized your face.” omg. Needless to say, I was shocked that a random guy knew who I was, though it felt pretty amazing. The group (all in their mid 20’s-40’s) consisted of a bunch of men who work for Deutsch Bank in London and came over just to run the race. They were stayed at a nice camp with beds and catering and headed to their driver to go back. I went back to my book when the cute guy came back and invited me to come with—free food? um, yes@ I hung out with them for lunch then they dropped me off at the registration tent in order for me to go on a short game safari. I sat around for almost an hour until the driver finally showed and we were off through the park seeing elephants, zebras, warthogs, giraffes, impalas and a rhino! There were three others, a couple from German (I think) and a young guy from Canada, Omid, who was super cool. He was working Uganda and was sponsored by his company to do this race (he previously ran a race raising money for arthritis). We got along really well and hung out later that evening for the pasta party.

First,, there was a race briefing and after I saw food being dolled out so I grabbed a plate and helped myself. As I walked away and looked around, I realized that no one else was lining up. I accidentally took a plate of food from the Marines!!!! ahhh. Omid found me at that point and just laughed as I hid and hovered it down. Abut a half hour later, we went to the real pasta party and carbo-loaded then headed to bed.

I was so afraid I’d sleep through the start that I woke up basically every hour. At 4:30a.m. I finally got up and started to get ready. My tent is technically for two people, but I have no idea how that’s possible unless one lies on top of the other. I fit with my bag just barely. If my head is up against one side, I just fit lying flat, so usually I’d either be in a ball or lying diagonally. Anyway, attempting to change in this small space was difficult. Also, my headlamp’s batteries died so I was working via a small Swiss army knife light. After wrangling my body into my spandex it was time for a delicious breakfast of peanut butter, jelly and wheatabix. The difficulty here was that I had to use the tiny blade on my Swiss army to spread the PB and J but it was also attached to the light—quite the messy situation. Also, I had little water left so I just dumped a few packets of instant coffee into my mouth and chocked it down with a swig of water to hype myself up—yuck. I tried to finagle a free meal from the nearby campground but failed so I sat around eating candies before setting off to the start. The kid’s race began at 6:30 while the half/full marathon took off at 7. There were about 1000 people competing in total. I found out the day before that this race is ranked in the top ten most difficult in the world, not only because it’s at high altitude and it’s hot (on the equator), plus there’s a loose dirt path, it’s also incredibly hilly. The first lap was crowded enough, plenty of company,. As I turned onto the desolate second lap, I saw Omid and another man waiting for me—so sweet! We hung out together for a short while and then split up, once again, so I was all alone with a dusty trail for most of the second lap. They had people on motorbikes riding around the course, checking on everyone and handing out water and Lucozade bottles while giving words of encouragement. While running alone with maybe three km left through a heavily wooded area, a number of Impalas and baboons sprinted across the path right in front of me. I stopped dead in my tracks, waiting to see if anything more threatening was following—there were no other runners in sight and I hadn’t heard a helicopter in a while, so I started to get a little nervous. I finally picked up the pace, again, to meet a group of me in camouflage with rifles around the corner—guess I was safe! I slowly made my way across the finish like at five hours and 45 minutes. Omid was there cheering for me and gave me a big hug; it was nice to, for once, have a present fan! One of the women I met the day before handed me my celebratory goody bag containing a bottle of water, Lucozade (vomit), a hand beaded keychain, Kilkoy (woven fabric to be used as a blanket/scarf/skirt, etc), and a massive Dairy Milk Chocolate bar which I immediately consumed all of while lying half dead in the grass.

After mustering up my strength through the help of sugar and cocoa, I dragged myself back to my tent so I could take a shower. While climbing in, I met an Indian family that lives in Nairobi. The father kept insisting I join them by the fire and have a beer. I told him that I’d be back and showered (freeeeeezing) and went to the “party in the park” which was at the finish line. A stage was set up for music and dance performances; I really wanted to watch but was painfully uncomfortable because everyone was staring at the lone muzungu and kids kept begging me for food and money. Needless to say, I didn’t have the patience and quickly took off. I took a nap in the grass outside of the Banda which was in a peaceful area far away from the loud partying. I headed back to my tent after an hour or two and hung out with the Indian family for a while. They shared their food with me along with a couple of beers. I also tried Miraa, which is a grass they chew that works like an amphetamine. It was super biter and I opted to bow out after a little taste. I then headed over to where the party was really happening by the Safaricom campsite. A massive campfire was blazing with people chatting and dancing all around. I got into a conversation with a few of the Aussie marines and one kept stepping into my personal bubble. Though I kept stepping back, he continued to drunkenly encroach—it probably looked like we were doing some bazaar dance.

I excused myself to look for Omid, who actually found me within maybe two minutes; horray for sticking out in this crowd! We sat at a picnic table with two other tourists and a few local girls and guys. I have no idea how the conversation turned this way, but we started talking about how large the women’s behinds are in Africa. One of the local guys then taps me and says, “ let me tell you, our women have big butts, but our men, we have big D*cks.” Then he points to me, “you guys have the big t*ts.” Um, ok, inappropriate. I pinched Omid and told him we should go so he could get some dinner. More like, he got dinner and then shared it with me. I was so lucky to have so many people feeding me this entire weekend because I completely forgot to bring in anything besides breakfast food for before the marathon—lucky, lucky me. After hanging out for a while, exhaustion took over and we decided it was bedtime. He was nice enough to walk me back to my tent since I got lost the night before because my light wasn’t powerful enough to see beyond my hand. I sat with the Indian family for a bit and then went to sleep.

The partying died down around two in the morning, which was when my trouble started. I heard a guy yelling my name and I thought it was the Indian father returning to the site and wating me to come drink, so I ignored it. A little while later I heard him again and finally responded. Turns out, it was the son,
“Kelly, can I sleep with you?”
NO.
“Why? I have nowhere to sleep, you are alone, I am alone, let me sleep with you. I won’t do anything.”
(yeah RIGHT) NO!!!! You have family here with tents and vehicles; sleep with them.

This happened two more times. Finally, at 4:30 I told him that if he didn’t get away from my tent I was going to start screaming. He finally left, but reluctantly. The NERVE; his father is a VIP at the event and he acts so disrespectfully, wtf. Good thing I randomly decided to lock my tent on the inside before I went to sleep (for the first time, ever).

I packed everything up quickly and joined Omid for breakfast. We then headed over to the Bandas to try and figure out how to get out of the park. Omid got a ride with George while Adele had Reggie, one of the girl’s boyfriends who lives in Nairobi, to give me a free ride back alone with two of his friends; he even bought us all lunch!!! So nice of him! What a weekend.

Welcome to Hell

2009-08-05T08:58:00.000-07:00

The next day I got my life in order and on Tuesday morning, I left to head up to Fisherman’s Camp. I got in the matatu to town and when they dropped me off, an older and ADORABLE woman helped me to find the next matatu I needed to head to Lake naivasha. It took about twenty minutes of asking different drivers to continue heading us in the right direction. Along the way, she told me about how she had been religiously saved as a child and how much she loves Jesus (she asked me if I had been saved. Umm, I’m working on it?) She used to study economics in India and then in the UK and has been back in Kenya for twenty years with her husband and three children (all of which are in universities or soon to be. I was quite amazed with her strength to have the opportunity to live and study in another country thirty years ago. I asked her how old she was and when she told me her age (51) I told her she didn’t look it. She stopped and look back and me and said, “It’s Jesus, honey.” lol, Christianity apparently cures wrinkles. She’s so devoted; she doesn’t understand how people live without faith or “if they’re even happy since they have so much hate without the love of God in their hearts.” She is grateful for what the British came in and did—bring the English language so they were no longer disconnected from each other linguistically, urbanization and, of course, Christianity. I find it so brave and strong of her to focus on the positive aspects of colonialism and that sometimes you have to make a few mistakes in order to move forward. I mean, I agree with her to an extent. But she doesn’t seem to notice or mind that they have lost so much of their tribal history, not everyone agrees with Western integration, just because a group of people doesn’t know the glory of the Iphone doesn’t mean that their lives are sad and pathetic and they need modern technology in order to be happy. I think a lot of the Western world is jaded in that way, that if someone doesn’t live the capitalist life that they must be miserable. I could really go on about this for a while, but the point was that SHE was focusing on the positive and I admired that. We were also discussing how naïve people are concerning their perceptions of Africans. When away in the UK, she’d be asked where she lived in Africa (response; oh, in trees!) and how she got a phone that TAKES PICTURES (umm in AFRICA!) and my favorite was when she was asked how she learned English (Oh, in the airport). hahaha. Her sense of humor was phenomenal.

The bus took less than two hours and from there I got into another matatu to the camp. The woman at the ticket booth said the price was 70ksh but the guy tried to write it out for 200! I laugh and said no, that the other woman already told me another price and he just said, “ oh, ok” and that was it! I got to the camp and set my new itty bitty “two person” tent; this was the first time I set up a tent on my own and I was oh so proud! I know it’s not difficult to set up a tent, especially one that’s the size of a Fed-Ex box, but even small, personal accomplishments are exciting! It was after three at this point, so I didn’t have time to do anything too interesting. I had a snack and chatted with a young Brittish couple and read my book, ate more (surprise, surprise) and went to bed.

The next morning I went to Hell! Hell’s Gate National Park, that is (so cheesy, sorry). I took a matatu to the gate and had to walk two km down the road to the entrance. The woman (Rachel) in the office was so sweet. She asked for my e-mail address so she could write to me after telling me I should find myself a Kenyan husband. I held up my ring finger and said I was married but she was persistent that that could change. They got me a bike to rent and she suggested I hike the gorge before trying to ride around the Buffalo Circuit. Initially, I was being stubborn and wanted to bike the 14 km loop, first, but my bike was struggling to go up the hill, the gears kept switching and it began making a loud clicking noise that I was sure would scare away all of the animals. Also, the path was so sandy I could hardly peddle and my back tire kept sliding out. I decided I might as well turn around and hike the gorge first and, wouldn’t you know it, once I turned around the gears worked perfectly fine—a sign perhaps? Yep, wait for it.

I headed over the painfully bumpy road towards the Ranger’s Post where I would be able to hike to Hell (seriously, that’s what it’s called!). The path cuts through the grassy park and in the distance as well as alongside the road, I watched tens (probably up to 100) zebras grazing, a few giraffes eating off the tippy tops of some trees lining my way, impalas, ostriches, the odd cow, and groups of warthogs scurrying for a place to hide from me (they’re so funny w/ their fat bodies wobbling on stubby legs and covered what looks like hair plugs all over their bodies). Though, generally, the animals were thoroughly unimpressed with me.

Once I arrived at the post, I told the workers that I’d prefer to hike alone (as I stubbornly do). He was a bit weary, but didn’t put up much for a fight. One many showed me to the start of the path, which is quite tricky to get to since you have to crawl over boulders and scale down narrow crevices that are not made for wide, baby-making hips, that’s for sure. He gave me the run down of where to go; basically, follow the water (a small, trickling river of sorts) and when I get to the hot springs about an hour and a half down, take a right at the yellow Acacia tree and follow the path back up. DO NOT PASS THE TREE; then you’ll be in native Masai territory where the predatory animals live. OK, easy enough, right? Follow the water, so I did…and got lost. I followed a path along the water and was looking down into a crevice with three small waterfalls while singing “George of the Jungle” (the Jane remix), to myself when a boy of about ten years old, a goat herder I saw earlier, ran up behind me tel.ing me I was going the wrong way, that I was headed towards the forest—oh, God. He showed me back down, and apparently I had to LITERLLY follow the water, like, IN it. Meaning I had to go through that narrow crevice, UNDER the three falls. Time to get wet! This is called the Devil’s Shower; the first two falls are hot and the third is cold, it’s so bizarre! After that, the path widened out significantly and I was left trekking through the water and sand while staring up at steep, eroded cliffs on either side of me. I saw some steam up ahead to my right and two guys chipping at rocks on the other bank. I thought the steam was actually smoke from a fire, at first, so I asked the men where the hot springs were; they stared blankly so I figured I needed to keep going. One guy then ran after me and brought me back into a wooded area where the ground was rumbling beneath my feet and there was a puddle of bubbling, sputtering muck that was apparently the hot springs. Ok, so where’s the path? He points back to the “river”—nom, there’s another one. He shakes his head “no.” I walk a few feet and see a dirt path heading up, “does this go back to the Ranger’s Post?” He shakes his head “yes.” Ok, thanks.

This path isn’t very well marked in places and diverges into many others; I kept guessing (which is never idea in my case) which to follow and soon I ran across some more herders who told me I was still going the right direction. Somehow the path came to an end and I was left wondering on the edge of a cliff; I kept walking back and forth, but couldn’t figure out where to go. I started shyly yelling out “hello,” but received no answer. I let my fear get the best of me when the thought that I had wondered into Masai territory popped into my head. I let myself cry and flip out for a few minutes and then stood there trying to settle down and figure out my best option. The issue was that I didn’t have all day because huge black clouds were quickly rolling my way. Plus, I had just accidentally stabbed myself in the leg w/ a large pointy plant that I had no idea whether or not it was poisonous (took picture for safe measure upon hopeful survival). Then, on the cliff on the other side of the gorge I was following, I saw a young man waving and yelling “wrong way!” My voice broke as I shouted, “ I KNOW! Where do I go!” I had to head back down and he lead me up to the opposite cliff and brought me to the road. I was only about ten minutes from the post. I gave him some money and water before he set off. I rolled into the hut just as it started to thunder and downpour. I sat under the awning with the workers for a while, chit-chatting until the rain slowed.

“Good thing you got out, when it rains, there are flash floods and you get a free ride, hah, hah.”

OMG! I would’ve been done for!

I got on my bike and headed back the eight km to the gate, only to, somehow, end up climbing to the top of a private road hill before realized I managed to get lost on a circular road. I went back and finally found my way. At this point, it was four PM and I hadn’t eaten since eight and ran out of water in the gorge. I was too exhausted to take photos of more animals, though at one point I looked to my left and saw a field full of baboon on all fours all slowly crawling towards me while staring in my directions—creepy. I dropped off my bike and walked the two km to the road. I ended up walking five km back because every matatu that passed was full. I was in such desperate need of water that I could hardly get myself to smile at the school kids yelling at me, the whole time, “How, are you! How are you! How are you!”

I struggled to take shower and then collapsed in my tent for a few hours before dinner (Ugali and beef stew, mmmmmmm). That night I got to see my first hippo! The camp is on Lake Naivasha and after dark, the hippos come out of the woods to graze between the lake and the electric fence which is protecting the campers (little did I know, Hippos are one of the most dangerous animals). At about 3 30 am, the hippos started going nuts; I could hear them making loud noises and scraping at the ground. In my daze, I was sure they were going to charge through the gate and trample my tent. That’d be just my luck, at the end of my trip to die by hippo stampede. However, it was all in my head and I got up in the morning to a massive full breakfast and to take the trip from hell to Lewa.

Nairobbery 7’s Tournament

2009-08-05T08:57:00.000-07:00

When I got back to the Bush Hostel, there were tons of new Wazungu, mostly from the England or Scotland. I got in late on Saturday so I didn't stay up chatting for long; however, I was hanging out late enough to learn there was going to be a 7s Rugby tournament occurring at the Nairobi Stadium. For those of you who don't know, a 7s tournament is basically a bunch of Rugby games where they only have seven people playing on each team instead of fifteen. We all headed over in cabs at 9:30 the next morning and cheered for countries all over Africa, UK, Japan, and France (a lot of the people I met actually knew players on the Bristol University Team). Clearly, a weekend sports event would not be complete without a cold beer in hand and boy was it cheap here. Over the course of the day two 19 year-old Scottish boys and myself polished off six six-packs of Tusker and Redd's (a sweet-apple beer that goes down like juice). To justify at least half of the cases of beer, by purchasing a six pack of Tusker, you received a free hat (a nylon cow boy shaped hat in neon yellow advertising the alcoholic deliciousness) Between serious games, they could say what I guess would be like honorary games; there were two women's games (one where a woman had to switch jerseys and didn't have an undershirt which caused quite the ruckus from the crowd) and another game from what looked to be a geriatrics league. These men hardly trotted around the field, clearly not still in proper rugby playing shape.

Then, surprise, surprise, a massive hangover kicked in around nine Pm. It dissipated around ten, but I stupidly smacked a mosquito on my ear which brought the pounding back with a vengeance. Sadly, I couldn't muster up the strength to go with everyone to the after-party (which was really sad because there were some sexy rugby players that I would've enjoyed meeting:) )

Update: I am alive

2009-07-22T04:32:00.000-07:00

The internet connection is, well, awful here; sorry I haven't been able to update. I leave for Boston TOMORROW so I will be able to update in a week or so:) Plus, I have over 600 photos for everyone's enjoyment.

Save the Cheetahs

2009-06-22T07:17:00.000-07:00

Cosmas, one of the workers with Action for Cheetahs in Kenya, gave me directions to their house/office. I spent the day packing everything up and heading on my way. Though it isn’t far out of the city, I had to take two different matatus and, since the traffic is awful, it took 2.5 hours! I told the guy on the bus that I needed to go to the Mountain View stop and he said he would show me where to get off. However, at the end of the line, he asked, AGAIN and realized he forgot about me, hah. Oh, well. Cosmas picked me up at the gas station and we walked to their office/house, which is in a gated community. They have two dogs. Ginger and Bahate (in Kiswahili, his name means “good luck”) and they were so excited to see us! It’s nice to be around dogs that actually have a home and are trained! Cosmas shoed me around and told me a bit about the project. Basically, Mary (originally from Michigan, yeah Midwest!) started a branch of the Cheetah Conservation Fund in Kenya in 2002. They mapped all of the roads in the country and surveyed them all, meanwhile conducting interviews concerning livestock lost by predators. They Cheetahs are endangered due to poachers; people are poor and they want the meat. Plus, the cheetahs are losing their habitat due to human settlers. Mary, Maike, and Floris were all out in the bush cheetah trapping for the past ten days and showed up at around six in the evening. They freshened up and we all went out to a nice Indian restaurant to eat. The food was amazing! Quite a nice change from the steady diet of instant noodles and drinking yogurt I’ve been consuming.

The next day, I went for a brisk walk/run around the area and then Maike (a German woman volunteering who is on sabbatical from her event planning career—formerly an environmental scientist) and I went to the Sarit center, which is a nice mall in the Westlands area. We went to the cyber café and then chatted for a while over coffee. She went to look for a computer while I sat reading her Lonely Planet. I read a little about my upcoming marathon and got a bit nervous. A man near me said I looked deep in though and I showed him what I was thinking about. He and his friend are from Canada and are Hashers ( an international drinking group with a running problem); they invited me to join them the following Monday and then I could hopefully meet other people who would be running the marathon and even possibly catch a ride—horray! Maike and I wondered around another mall, with yet another cup of coffee before heading back. We had a little family dinner that night of stir fry and champagne☺

I went back to Nairobi for a couple days because I couldn’t afford $15 a day. The money clearly goes to keeping the Cheetah fund up and running, but I am just not in a monetary place, at the moment, to do that for too many days. I went back on Monday so that I could go with everyone into the Camp in Salama. On the way, I got in the matatu that was supposed to go to Mt. View. I asked the driver and he said that was where they were going; they proceeded to charge me an extra ten shillings and then the van did NOT got all the way. The guy who took my money and lied to me bolted at the stop as a bunch of cab drivers tried to harass me to get into their cab. I made the rare mistake of getting all huffy and cussing (which I’ve gotten a lot better at NOT doing) which, of course, only made them laugh at me. Finally, however, the guy stopped trying to get me to blow a bunch of money on his cab and brought me to another matatu that would bring me to the right spot.

After arriving at the house, Maike and I had a meeting with Wallace about the puppedt presentation we’d be doing at a local school about the Cheetahs. Basically, the presentation was going to start with a questionnaire to see what the kids already knew and then we’d do a skit with a story incorporating puppets, have a lecture/discussion, and then give them the quiz again. After, this I really had the day to do what I wanted and went back to the Sarit Center to use the net; I also bought Barrack Obama’s book “Dreams from my Father.” I veg’d out that night watching the worst movie, possibly ever, “Nacho Libre.” We were supposed to go up to the camp the next day, but due to some car troubles, it was postponed, so Maike and I went to the Kenya National Museum. It displays the history of the nation, including the animals (large mammal exhibit), and impressive collection of stuffed local birds, an exhibit on rock art and the top floor is all about the people and its culture. It had displays on the clothing, weapons, coming of age rituals, and body decorations (beaded jewelry, ear plugs) etc. It was all very interesting to see how cultures have evolved, where they have incorporated Western influences (such as using glass/plastic beads instead of shells and seeds) as well as what they have retained. When we arrived, I tried to get a student discount, but they don’t offer one. Insetad, the guy said he would charge us as citizens; I joked about passing as a Kenyan, though he clearly didn’t pick up on my sarcasm he somberly informed me that he was giving us a break…oh, um…sorry, thanks.

The next day Maike, Cosmas and I headed up to the Salama camp. The roads are awful; I think I should start wearing a sports bar whenever we get into a car. Alsong the way, we got some supplies at the Nakumatt,. As we got out of the car, I pointed out to Cosmas that his fly was down. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s only the envelope.” HAH. The funnier part was when we got inside and we passed the stationary section maike said, “Oh, here are the envelopes!” Cosmas and I burst out laughing; Maike clearly hadn’t heard the conversation clearly. I went on a search for some new hair ties but the workers kept pointing me to the weaves. I’m sorry, none of these will blend in! Finally I found a couple by the cash register and we were off again.

The camp is on a divided farm plot where they have a fenced area with a small brick building as a kitchen. There’s an open area with a fire pit and three large tents with actual beds inside, tin roofs over the top, as well as two drop toilets and open air “showers” (or rather, a space to bring a bucket to rinse yourself). We sat around, chatting and reading over dinner and headed off to bed. It’s pitch black out on the countryside; the stars here are absolutely insane, I don’t think I’ve seen a sky like this since I was in New Zealand.

I went for a run/brisk walk along the orange dirt rods in the morning; then, Maike , Wallace and I headed to the Kiima Kiu primary school for our presentation. They had a total of about ninety kids in grades five through seven in one room, all in maroon sweaters over green shirts and green shorts—maybe half of the kids wore shoes. Their teaching style is very interesting in that the kids repeat an important (usually last) word of the sentence. Ex. Prof: “ I’m here to teach you about cheetahs. About?” Class: “Cheetahs!” This makes sure they’re all playing attention and I’m sure it helps them with learning English, as well. Anyway, after they filled out the questionnaire, we brought out the puppets and the kids went NUTS. They all started screaming and jumping around in excitement like when someone wins a car on the Price is Right. Though they probably didn’t absorb much of the story because they were too fascinated and interested in our little show. Plus, I think the kids were more interested in staring at the Muzungus; a couple of the girls in the front kept giving us the thumbs up, trying to get our attention. At the end, they all started whistling and clapping in unison; then, we were surrounded by kids touching us. They were all fascinated by my hair,, stroking and lifting it; it was fine at first, but as they got more excited there was a bit more pulling and I had to tie it up—you can touch it, just as long as I can still take it home with me! They surrounded us as we left and chased after our car, waving the whole way.

When we got back to the camp, we hung out with some of the scouts, Jimmy, Lamumba and Sam. Sam is HILLARIOUS. They were all telling us the differences between some of the local tribes. Sam’s tribe, the Luos, LOVE chicken. He was saying that, as kids, they were so excited when visitors came, not because someone new was around, but because they then could slaughter and eat a check. They would get upset when no one would come because they couldn’t eat the meat. He’s so expressive; he has a mouth full of big white teeth and when he laughs it’s so contagious that even if you don’t know what he said, you have to laugh along. Cosmas also told us about a darker side of Kenya, the Mungeeki (sp?). This is like the Kenyan Mafia; it originally started because they wanted to separate from Westernization and go back to tradition. They’d beat women for wearing trousers, for example. Now, they basically control every home and business, forcing people to pay exra to them for their homes and matatus, their produce sales and roadside services. If they don’t pay, there will be disastrous consequences. A woman’s matatu was burned, people die, they’re run off the road, decapitated and dismembered—it’s not pretty and quite dangerous for the locals in the areas where this group rules.

The net morning they had a scout meeting to discuss their progress with accumulating data on local conflicts, interviews, areas they still needed to cover, questions that needed to be more thorough, etc. It was quite interesting, but I clearly had nothing to contribute because I didn’t know the area or much bout what they’ve already accomplished.

Maike, Wallace and I then went to another school for a presentation. These kids were much more well-behaved. Maike and I had to shake practically all 80 little hands, Again, a mass of uniformed children (blue and yellow uniforms this time) followed us out to the car and waved goodbye.

Hakuna Matata

2009-06-22T07:15:00.000-07:00

I’ve been stuck in the Nairobi area for two weeks, because I didn’t want to go too far away from the race area incase of transportation troubles. Also, I wanted to be able to train (which I have not been doing, fail on my part). Anyway, after lounging around and spending time with other travelers, I decided to actually be productive and see some things. I spent a day near the Nairobi National Park; first I went to the Giraffe Center. Everyone tries to get you to take cabs here and there, but I refused and got on the bus; it may be a bit slower but all the buses and matatus maybe cost me a dollar in total whereas the cabs would have been probably around twenty after all is said and done with.

There really isn’t that much to do at the Giraffe Center besides wonder around a tree house looking at student artwork and learning facts about Giraffes. Also, you can feed the animals if they come up to the platform. You are given a handful of pellets which looks a bit like rabbit food, and you feed them one by one. The one is was feeding was named Daisy; she had a very long tongue and her saliva is extremely slimy, leaving long gooey strands hanging between her mouths and my fingers. You can also get “giraffe kisses” by putting a long piece of food between your lips and letting the giraffe take it out; which left my face all gooey, but it was funny. Also, if you put a handful of pellets at their mouth, you can pet them and even hug them; but watch out once the food is gone because they try and head-butt you. “No food, No Friend!”

After that, I walked back to the bus stop, which is a three kilometer walk each way down a semi-deserted roach through a beautiful forest area, lined with bushes and flowers. The dirt here is this incredible orange/rust color that contrasts beautifully with the green surroundings and bright blue sky. I took the bus to the Animal Orphanage, which is just inside the Nairobi National Park gates. As soon as I walked in, a group of school children were gawking at the muzungo. One man tried to be my guide, but I immediately shot him down; thanks, but no thanks. Two girls then came up to me and started asking questions. I thought they were trying to interview me about my travels, but at the end they just said they wanted to say “hi” because they admired me☺

The orphanage is like a small zoo; all the animals had been abandoned as babies due to poachers. While walking, I ended up talking to a young Kenyan woman, Emma, about the leopard that was making itself vomit in front of us (hah). She was there with her Mother, Jane, and her two-year-old daughter. I ended up wondering around the park with them, looking at cheetahs, leopards, lions, all types of monkeys, a mongoose, warthogs, hyenas, a crocodile and tons of birds. It was like being in “The Lion King.” We were there at the perfect time, because they are only fed once a day. The food barrows come out at 2:30; at this time, the animals start going nuts, pacing back and forth in front of the gate—they know what time it is. Two deer like animals, herbivores, were fed with carrots and beans, but when they zookeeper walked away, the two free roaming monkeys from the Nature Walk nearby snuck over and stole some of the food. They’re quite intelligent animals, though, they knew exactly who to hide from. The same guy also fed the cheetahs huge pieces of meat. He’s been feeding them since they were cubs, so they listened when he said, “up and jumped up on a wooden platform, waiting to be thrown their food. He was only a few feet away when he tossed them their grub and there was no aggression from the animals; they’re quite tame. One lion, however, was throwing a fit and laid down in the corner, growling. Emma growled back at him and he’d actually respond in order for us to get a few good pictures. At the last cage, the warthogs, Emma’s daughter wanted to take photos. I let her grab my camera and she just host away. Her grandmother basically had to wrestle my camera from her and switch it with Emma’s. Before she wrestled it away, she did get a good (read: hideous) close-up shot of me as well as a very focused shot of a warthog’s behind. Warthogs, btw, are quite odd looking creatures; they look like piggies but have tusks and long straw-like fur that looks more like strategically placed hair plugs because it is not a full coat. . They also kneel down on their front legs when eating (carrots and corn OFF of the cob) and have long nails on their hooves. When we walked out, I had to wait for my change from buying the ticket while the other three were going on to the nature walk. They wanted me to join, but I said I was headed back, so Emma invited me to come stay with her and her family for a night for a free bed and food when I hike Mt. Kenya. I guess, since so many people took her in when she was in California, she felt she could and should do the same here in Kenya, which I am extremely appreciative for! It took Emmas daughter about five minutes to finally go; she just stood in the walkway staring at me, waving and yelling “Come on, Kelly!” It was so cute. I actually received an e mail from emma a few days later saying that her little girl talked about me all day ☺

After that, I headed home and chatted with Richard for a bit; the poor guy is stuck in Nairobi because he got a rare parasite and has to keep going to the hospital to get scoped shoved up his bum to make sure all the eggs that were laid )from the two inch worm they pulled out) have died. All this occurs with a bunch of medical students in the room because this parasite has never been seen in Kenya. So awkward. I then gathered up my stuff so I could go spend time with “Action for Cheetahs in Kenya!”

Jambo!

2009-06-10T23:55:00.000-07:00

I boarded my Ethiopian airlines flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, which was a 10 hour flight (without a personal movie screen, by the way, not a fan of this airline). I had only one visual entertainment option, which was the second worst movie they could have ever played aside from a plane crash flick. I don’t know what the movie was called, but it was basically about two 19 year old American girls who went backpacking around Europe; when they arrived in France they shared a cab with another boy who said he was traveling, as well, but turned out to be a mob spotter and the two girls were kidnapped and sold into prostitution. Awesome. I never even THOUGHT about something like that happening; thank you for adding this fear at the end of my trip. I’ve shared cabs with random backpackers along the way and haven’t had a problem, but now that idea is in my head so there will probably be no more of that unless I know they were on my plane. Ugh, fools.

Anyway, who hours later, I’m on my two hour flight to Nairobi. On the plane, I met two amazing people, a woman from MN who works for Operation Smile and a gentleman from New Zealand who works with World Vision in Sudan. Their lives are amazing and awe inspiring; they basically travel around the world saving lives; how much more fulfilling could your career/life be? Anyway, I dropped my stuff off after meeting the Manager, Ken, of the Bush House and Camp (my 7 dollar a night hostel on a gated property right outside of the Nairobi city center) and sat down to use the Internet when I met two guys, Vlad from Canada, and Ludwig from Germany. They were on their way to meet a young Kenyan college student to couch surf and I invited myself along, as travelers do.

We took a cab to the Kenyata Conference Center, which is a good place to go to get a view of the city. We had to wait for an hour before Oscar arrived, being that traffic here gets nuts around three. We then got in a Matatu, a local short bus for public transportation that’s basically a party van playing music videos with massive base levels and are decorated with images of hip hop singers and rappers. They also drive like maniacs, swerving between cars, accelerating quickly, and stopping too rapidly and closely to the cars in front of them. I was sitting shotgun, so I had a front row seat for the entertainment, the highlight being our near collision where we literally missed a car by a few inches. Since the jam was so bad, our driver decided to cruise up on the shoulder and then, with one tire on the top of a plank with a deep ditch in between the other tire which was cruising along the curb—like a vehicular tight rope act. We got to Oscar’s apartment in Meatland (I’m assuming that that’s what the area is called because there was a big sign outside with this written on it) and hung out there for a few hours with his cousins. We went around the market buying food and then he cooked a beef stew with ugali (like stiff mashed potatoes but made out of maize flour, like what I helped make in Thailand with the runners) which is all eaten with your hands. We also watched Kenya’s version of “So You Think You Can Dance?” called, “Can U Dance?” where they had a tribal challenge. This was interesting to watch the indigenous dances with their brightly colored, printed attire and expressive contractive movements. After, Oscar's cousin drove me back to the hostel and everyone else went out to a club. They tried to get me to come along, but I was so tired, having been awake for about 38 hours, smelly and greasy. I wasn't in the mood to be a spectacle; the only female Mazungo (whitey) in the room--no, no, no, not tonight.

I passed out until noon the next day and felt magical. I went into town because I was supposed to meet with Vlad and Ludwig to do some sight seeing, but there were cell phone issues, so I went to a grocery store for a while to find a snack. I then sat on a bench with my instant noodles to people watch when I met John, a 25 year old Kenyan. He started talking to me, telling me how his parents had died in a car accident two years ago and he works with flowers while his older brother works at the Hyatt Regency in Dubai and his sister in another hotel in Nairobi. He suggested a few things for me to do in the city and, since I had time to kill, brought me to the Sunday market. There they sell all hand made crafts, carved animals, paintings, jewelry, etc. They heckle a lot and it's more difficult to say no here than anywhere else because they reach you on a more humanitarian level rather than looking at you like an ATM. Luckily, John was there to get everyone to leave me alone. After, he brought me to the Cooperative Bank where there was a terrorist attack in August 2006; no a memorial park stands in is place. I never got ahold of Vlad so I went to a cyber cafe for a while. I had to ask directions from a group of people on how to get to Nakumut Lifestyle, which is a 24 hour shopping center with a grocery story and a cyber cafe, as well as other things. They were trying to figure out how to explain to me how to get there when the older man said he'd take me. Now, in India, whenever someone is "being nice" they want a tip. I'm really not in a financial place for this, so I said that I'd be ok. The woman then says, "Let him take you! He's not going to rob you! He's a born again Christian!" Ok, ok, ah, I'm sorry. He was very sweet but spent the entire walk talking about God and asking me about my relationship with Jesus. Um....I don't know. It's difficult to be honest here, that I'm pretty agnostic and basically find organized religion to be complete nonsense--man has flaws, humans can be selfish, and, I feel, that a lot of these religious texts have been translated to satisfy someone's agenda. Saying this to an preacher was...well...probably not my smartest move because it just inspired a more heated discussion. Luckily, the shopping mart was close by so once we arrived he shook my hand, said "God Bless," and let me on my merry way.

When I got back to the hostel, I met three cool Dutch girls, Cami, Dani, and Mari, who had been working in Uganda. Dani and Cami were leaving the next day and Mari came for a boot call...lol. Anyway, they were on their way out to dinner and invited me along. We went to a nice restaurant called Carnivore, where you paid maybe 20 dollars to get soup, salad, bread, a baked potato, and unlimited meat that they walk around carving off of skewers fresh off the grill. This included sausage, lamb, chicken wings and legs, ribs, beef, ostrich meat balls and crocodile--afterwards, dessert! It was amazing and we were all stuffed. However, the only downfall of the night was our cab ride to the restaurant. They had been using the same taxi driver and though he was reliable. On the way we were in the far right lane on a highway; a bus put on his blinker to merge and the driver, Simon, tried to speed up and pass until one of the girls yelled at him to watch out. The, the same thing happened with a SEMI-TRUCK! We were literally almost crushed because median consisted of a tall curb and a steep hill. All four of us yelled out, which is saying something since we're all used to, and rarely phased by, terrible driving and bad traffic. After, he almost ran over two trafic cones and a strip of nails. Needless to say, we didn't call him to pick us back up.

The next day, I tried to go for a run but failed due to an intense amount of traffic (pedestrian and vehicular). I went with Mari into town to try and find a money exchange and a Lonely Planet book, but we both failed, so we sat and had a drink until she got on her bus back to Uganda. I headed home and said goodbye to Dani and Cami, hopefully we'll all stay in contact on Facebook. Especially because Dani has a friend at Nike who might be interested in me (fingers crossed) and Mari has a lot of film friends. Plus, Mari and I got along really well and we had some interesting discussions concerning religion and philosophy.

I spent some more time wondering around the city the next day. I typed up my blog (here ya go!) and found a company that I can hopefully use to Hike Mt. Kenya. I was going into multiple shops to see where I could find the best prices when I accidentally entered the wrong building and a man stopped me and showed me where to actually go. I thought he was working for the company, but he had actually trailed me and must have been some sort of guide. I only found this out when I was leaving and he asked me if I wanted to see somewhere else. When I said no he agreed, saying that the last place I was wasn't very informative and I probably won't get a better price. Creepy. An odd way to go about it via Western standards, but the people here are generally very friendly and helpful. They love taking to the Mazungu, welcoming me to their country and loving that I'm from "Obama Country!!"

FOOD CORNER

Mabuyu- This is like a dried fruit with a pit in the middle and is coated with a sugar/pepper powder. I seem to be the only one who enjoys this food. It's a bit sweet and chalky w/ a spicy after taste once you've eaten a handful. I tried to offer it to some of the Kenyan women at the hostel, but they laughed at me.

Ostrich Meat Balls- Light grey in color, tastes a bit like pork (not chicken).

Crocodile- Light colored meat and very tender. The texture is a cross between chicken and fish and there are a lot of bones. It was quite salty, but this could have been due to how it was cooked.

Hej-dor, Sweden

2009-06-10T23:51:00.000-07:00

I headed back to Uppsala and went with Krister to see the opening of "Terminator Salvation;" it wasn’t that good, I mean, Christain Bail doesn’t even walk around with his shirt off, which is clearly the point of seeing the movie. Then, we met up with his friends and drank for a while before heading to a bar—I was having a good time, but was freezing, so finally called it a night. The next day was gross and rainy, again, so I went to the gym and that was about the extent of my productivity. My flight was at 9 pm on the 5th of June, so I spent the day packing up my things. I left at five and, half way to the strain station, I realized my camera was still in Krister’s apartment. I had already put my key in his mail box, so I had to go to his work and have someone get me his key, go back and find my camera, then drop off his key and jet to the station. I missed the train by a minute and the next wasn’t for a half-hour. However, my debit card randomly wasn’t working, so I had to go to the ATM; the machine in the station wasn’t working so I had to run back to the city center, take out money there, then rush back, making it with eight minutes to spare—this is all with my massive rucksack on my back and my small (yet painfully heavy) daypack on my front, as well as my purse filled with books on my shoulder, Kelly=sweaty mess. However, there were no problems at the airport and I still had plenty of time. Two hours until my final continent/country of this adventure, Kenya!

Stockholm Marathon 2009

2009-06-10T23:39:00.000-07:00

The day before the race, I headed into Stockholm via the train to go pick up my registration packet and then I went back to Uppsala. I then headed out of the city to Gamla Uppsala, which is where there are massive grave mounds throughout prairies and trees and just beautiful nature to walk around in, as well as a church/graveyard. I also spent the entire day carbo-loading…my favorite holiday. I use the day before a race as an excuse to eat everything I normally don’t; this included ice cream, a massive falafel wrap, McDonald’s fries, and cookies, among other things. After wandering around Gamla Uppsala for a few hours, I met up with Krister and some of his buddies for a BBQ before heading to bed since I wanted to be well rested for the race I was painfully unprepared for!

The race was on the 30th of May with a starting time of 2 pm. I had plenty of time to get ready. I left Krister’s at about ten so I could be on the 11 am train into Stockholm. I saw a few other runners, but the mentality is really odd; even in countries where little English is spoken, when you see someone else with a bib or racing bag, you acknowledge each other. Here, no one gives a damn; after a number of people cold-shouldered my warm smile, I gave up. Anyway, I made my way to the 1912 Olympic Stadium, consuming two double espresso shots along the way, making sure I was good and hyped up for the race.

They were giving out bananas and energy drinks, as well as water in the starting area. I dropped off my bags, chugged my Red Bull and went to the bathroom three times before it was time to move onto the course. I met a man from PA that now lives in Germany and we chatted for a while; he was the only US citizen I saw (each bib had a flag with the runner’s country on it and the majority were Swedes). The temperature was a steamy 28 degrees Celsius (88 degrees Fahrenheit) at the start, so I was sweating in the shade waiting to begin. The course was a two loop path around Stockholm, starting and ending at the stadium and passing through parks, over a beautiful (yet steep) bridge, past the Royal Palace, Museums, beautiful buildings and along the water. The city is gorgeous and so was the weather, so it wasn’t too difficult to be entertained. Luckily, there was a lot of shade and plenty of sprinklers to run through, so the heat wasn’t too bad. There were also lots of water/sports drink stands (about every 2.5k or 1.8 miles) so I got my fill of re-hydration. They were also giving out candy, power bars, bananas and pickles, of all things. I understand the point is to get sodium back into your body, but the smell was repulsive, so I stayed on the other side of the course trying not to slip on the abandoned gherkins.

I saw Krister and his buddies cheering for me at Kilometer 34; they’d been drinking in the park all day (jealous). I told him that I would be supremely unhappy if I saw him before k35 and, luckily, he listened. He ran with me for a few minutes trying to pump me up because I was definitely starting to feel the burn. At 2 hours and eight minutes I had been lapped by the Kenyan winner (four minutes from the end of my first lap) My finish time was four hours 57 minutes and 53 seconds, which is my third worst time ever, but exactly where I thought I’d be. I literally only had two weeks of training where I never ran more than 9 miles, I was on a treadmill, and each time I incorporated walking breaks, so I was pretty pleased with the finish. I just made a play list of pumped up tunes and pretended like it was a five hour dance party where I was trolling for hotties ☺.

I laid in the grass for a while, then met up with Krister and we went to his friend, Christopher’s, apartment where they cooked spaghetti for dinner and we watched some mindless TV/YouTube before heading off to the bars. I was struggling to walk, but we went to a few places and then took the metro out to Stockholm University where there was some sort of music festival going on. We sat around drinking/chatting/watching until four am and then headed back to the metro. While waiting, this massive group of 13 year olds came in; apparently, there was a party going on which we weren’t invited to. I feel so old saying this, but I cannot BELIEVE what those girls were wearing (or rather, weren’t wearing)!! One girl had shorts on so small you could see her butt cheeks, a t-shirt tied under her non-existent chest, and F-me pumps , strutting up and down the platform sucking on a lollipop…disgusting. We got back to Christopher’s (he was kind enough to let us crash in his living room) when it was light out, of course, and we all passed out until noon.

Krister went back home and I moved to a hostel for a few days (yeah, the one where I had to pay for sheets, so weak). I didn’t do too much since I could hardly move, so I wondered around Gamla Stans eating everything in sight. I was sitting outside of an ice cream shop contemplating if 6:30 was too early to go to bed when I met Bahast and Christine; two 22 year-old Swedes. Both were very nice and very chatty, having done some traveling themselves (generally, the Swedes are pretty cold towards strangers and don’t just strike up a conversation on the street or randomly say hello, like I do). I ended up going w/ Bahast to his place and helping him cook his roommate dinner, then going to see Angels and Demons with him and his friend, Jakob. Now, a lot of the men here are pretty metro and it's difficult to distinguish those with good (or at least, some type) of fashion sense and those who prefer the male anatomy. I'm pretty sure he was gay, his desire for anything pink and fuchsia was more intense than a five year old girl, but then again, I have no idea.

The next day I walked, slowly, for about eight hours. I wanted to rent a bike and wonder around town but it was 30 dollars for the day! That’s insane and painfully out of my budget at this point. I took myself to Djurgarden and to the Vasa Ship Museum. Then, I walked around the park for a while and went to Skanska, which is this recreation of old-time Stockholm. People play the parts of the townspeople; I wondered into a farmhouse and a girl was just knitting in a rocking chair—what a job! I shouldn’t talk, though, because who knows what type of employment I’ll be finding once I come back to the states! After all this, I took a nap and then met up with Bahast for a few drinks and people watching until I decided I was still way too tired and exhausted and went home. The next few days were rainy ; I spent one more night in Stockholm in hopes of better weather in order to take a boat trip around the Archipelago, but no luck, so I headed back to Uppsala so I wouldn’t break the bank anymore. Plus, Stockholm looks a lot like Boston, so it just made me homesick since I looked like home but I had no friends and no funds.

Random Uppsala

2009-06-10T23:36:00.000-07:00

Over the next couple days, I decided to do a little more sight seeing around Uppsala. I had already visited the Botanical and all it’s wondrous cacti, so I spent the next day checking out the shopping streets, getting lost, wondering along the water, looking at statues and buildings and the infamous Domkyrkan—a beautiful Gothic cathedral from the 16th century (photos on the flickr page). I was basically enjoying being able to walk around and not get any attention; no one was looking at me, trying to sell me things, just being plain creepy--I was completely safe and it couldn't have felt better.

The next night, Krister had to work, so he gave me his phone number list if I wanted to call any of his friends to go out. I texted his friend Ben, whom I had met the night before and is from Chicago because A) I desperately wanted to hang out with Native English speakers and B) thought he was cute☺. So I’m a little superficial, don’t judge! We flirted a bit via text for a while and then I met up with him at eight for a drink and his friend Alex came, as well (a SUPER adorable, pocket sized Swedish girl). We also met up with Matt, who is Canadian, and went to Krister’s bar but the line was out of control, so we decided on an impromptu pub crawl—the fun ended at around one.

The next night, Krister and I met up with Ben, Matt and a few of his other friends to watch the Soccer Finals at a bar. Unfortunately the crowd was nuts, so we decided to go to Matt’s phenomenally huge and well-decorated apartment to have our own party. We ate pizza, Krister and Ben shot-gunned a beer (which I haven’t seen done in ages, amateurs), and we all did some tequila shots before heading out to another bar to meet their Irish friend. I threw in the towel early, but Krister stayed out quite late and the next morning I his jeans were soaked in the entryway with his money, phone, and keys strewn about…no clue what happened. Clearly, he had a better night than I did, lol.

Fancy Pants

2009-06-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

I spent one day going into Stockholm to get my Kenya visa. This took maybe fifteen minutes. It was the most pleasant, hassle free international logistical experience I’ve had. I’m pretty sure I filled out the card incorrectly, they didn’t even check for my vaccinations or my flights, and my photos were taken a half hour earlier in a photo booth in the metro station and looked like mug shots. Since it took no time at all, I decided to go on the Lonely Planet’s walking tour of central Stockholm Unfortunately, it was raining but I trucked on, regardless. I went down Klarabergsgatan which is a main big name shopping street. There was a food festival going on, which would have been amazing if I didn’t have to, somehow, fit into the bridesmaid dress from my brother's wedding two years ago, the next day. Instead of being ecstatic, I was being tortured by the sights and smells of sausages, fine cheese, piles of fudge and other tents full of goodies and needed to remove myself as quickly as possible. I decided to wonder around in Urban Outfitters, a little reminder of home, when my favorite and only pair of flip flops broke. I’ve been wearing these things for at least four years, so I knew it was coming. I had to buy some ugly black slip-ons that hardly fit because I have monster feet. Anyway, I left there because I couldn’t even afford the sales rack and wondered along Kungstradgarden , which is a park where people lay out and ice skate in the winter. Along the way is Sankt Jakobs Kyrka (St. Jacob’s Church) where I sat and listened to part of an organ concert. There are plenty of old building and statues to awe at along the way, well, in the entire city, actually.

Stockholm is made up of a few islands; I crossed over the Riksbron bridge to the Island of the Holy Spirit which has two massive stone buildings and cobble stone streets that belong to the two parts of Stockholm’s parliament building. Over the Stallbron Bridge is Stadsholmen, which is the “medieval core of Stockholm,” where the city’s oldest buildings and Cathedral Storykyrkan stand near the Royal Palace. Here, you are in the area of Gamla Stans, which contains narrow, windy streets full of shops, art galleries, cafes, and restaurants as well as Den Gyldene Fueller—serving food since 1722! After all of this walking, and not to mention being soaked, it was time to head back to Uppsala and get some beauty rest before tomorrow’s fancy ball!!

Krister’s Nation, Varmlands, has a fancy ball every year called Vorball. Fancy as in, tuxes with tails and floor-length gowns, a four course meal and all night partying☺ I woke up early to go for a run, my last ditch effort in hopes of making the dress fit properly. I went upstairs and go ready with krister’s female friends, Elin and Meriam (who is actually from Minnesota) and a few other girls. They were gracious enough to help with my hair and make up being that I have no beauty products with me and am not the best at dolling myself up. Around four, it was time to face the music and put on the dress—success!!!! I had no trouble fitting into it; the no sugar/bread diet for two weeks really works (but not for long term effects, unfortunately). Then, it was time to get our drink on! We went downstairs to meet everyone for a drink then headed to the Nation for appetizers and a pre-dinner champagne beverage, as well as mingling. After, we sat down for a three-course meal. They sit in ten to twenty person tables arranged boy-girl-boy-girl etc. First course was a cheese/thistle soup…clearly, no one’s favorite. We also received beer, wine and shots of Snapps along the way. The Snapps tasted like “peppermint death” as I liked to call it. The Swedes are really into their singing, everyone has a song book and throughout the evening there are speakers and songs. After each song, you hold your shot and cheers to the left, the right, across drink and back again; each time making sure to make eye contact (the saying goes that if you don’t make eye contact you will be cursed with seven years of bad…um,...relations…yeah… relations); this is quite the easy way to get plastered. Krister kept warning me to pace myself; I was the one that had no problem with this. He, well…it’s Krister and he does what he does, hah.

The Main course was potatoes and smoked salmon and there was dessert, as well, which was accompanied with coffee with Bailey’s, cognac, and some sort of drunk punch. I have no idea how I succeeded in scoring all three, but hooray for me☺

After, it was time for the dance. There’s a room with an orchestra where everyone was Waltzing. I had lost everyone at this point and stood along the wall watching and reminiscing of my good ol’ violinist days. Watching was fine with me because, though we YouTubed directions, I wasn’t sure if I really could Waltz in my slightly inebriated state (or stone-cold sober for that matter). Some guy awkwardly tried to ask me to dance but I blew him off; not really in the mood for creeping strangers. I found Elin and we sat outside for a while, then found the real club. I don’t know where the time went, but suddenly it was after three, so we headed to another bar/club. Krister had gone home at this point; not long after I got the worst case of heartburn I’ve ever had (damn pizza) and had to excuse myself to head back. The entire next day was spent eating cereal, chips, and ice cream while watching Grey’s Anatomy (making up for lost carb/sugar time☺ ) until I wasn’t hung-over anymore. A fantastic introduction to the Swedish culture!

Stockholm Syndrome

2009-06-10T23:21:00.000-07:00

Talk about reverse culture shock! I got off the plane in Stockholm and everything was sooooooo quiet. A few people were sitting in leather airport chairs, waiting for their plane inside glass-walled gate areas--that was it. I felt like my breathing was too loud! Not too many people flew from Mumbai to Stockholm, so the luggage coral wasn’t crowded; no one was pushing or yelling or screaming or haggling. Order. ahhhh. I purchased a bus ticket to bring me to Uppsala, which was ON TIME to the minute--no waiting for more passengers to fill the bus, oh sweet, sweet organization. The bus was perfectly clean, no one spoke a word the entire 25-minute bus ride to Uppsala. I realized it was 9:30pm and still light out, and the sunset went on forever! It was bizarre coming here after five months in Asia; looking around, all I could see was a perfectly tarred highway running along bright green pastures and forest area, well preserved buildings, flowers, cut grass, and cobblestone paths (not crumbling stone walkways). Pedestrians actually have the right of way and aren’t vehicular targets. There were no people walking in the middle of the road with their fists shoved up their noses or hawking loogies, no random animals/people relieving themselves chaotically, no trash, no cars honking! The silence was literally deafening—I was so confused!

Krister, a good friend of mine from High school who is working on his Masters at Uppsala University, met me at the bus stop and walked me through the little cobble stone town to his apartment. A narrow river runs through the city center and a significant amount of people walk or rides a bike for transportation (there are actually a ridiculous number of bikes throughout Sweden, the only place I’ve ever seen more was in Tokyo). The first thing I did when we got into his apartment was drink water straight from the tap and then roll around on the ground (not joking or exaggerating; Krister can confirm this) I was so excited and grateful to be in a country that entertains these liberties. It’s difficult to realize how lucky we are to have so many amenities and luxuries at our fingertips when they’re stripped away and your left w/ a dirty squatter and a little bucket of water to “wipe” with. First thing he did was bust out the boxed wine and start cooking while we caught up on each other’s lives since we hadn’t seen one another in about six years. We sat up talking, drinking almost an entire 3-liter (4 bottle) box of wine, and eating until five in the morning. At this point, I had pretty much been awake for 48 hours, so it was time to get some much-needed shuteye.

To be completely honest, my time in Sweden was pretty low-key. The country is painfully expensive; for example, the cheapest hostel I found was 25 dollars a night and I had to pay for SHEETS; I find it astounding that the poorest of countries give you your own bathroom, clean(ish) sheets, a personal room and sometimes a TV, when the better-off countries won’t even provide the necessities…and btw sleeping bags aren’t allowed, what backpacker has the luggage space to carry around sheets????? So, being that I was over eight months into my trip at this point, the funds were just not available to tour around the country. I spent most of my time at Krister’s; he was gracious enough to let me sleep on his couch and cook me food (quite the cook I might add—some of the best meals I’ve had in a while); I usually did the dishes as an attempt at repayment. I was really pretty lazy, which was quite a necessary change from the hectic on-the-go lifestyle I had been living for the past eight months. We watched movies and went out. He is quite the partier, so he brought me around to meet his friends and we went to different Nations to drink and dance. Nations are kind of like frats except everyone joins one of them and they're not as...well... childish . They have bars where you can drink cheaply if you have a student card. The first night we went out, they introduced me to Fish, which is this clear shot that tastes like Jaeger (vomit) however, I played champion and took them as long as they kept coming. We went to another bar after that and ended up back home probably around four am. It’s ALWAYS light out here. I’m used to being up around 6:30, going for a run and enjoying a full day, but here, the sun sets at about 9:30/10 but isn’t dark until midnight (if you even want to call that dark) and the sun rises at 3:30, so it starts to get light again around two, making it easy to go out all night and not realize what you’ve done.

After that night, I decided that I shouldn’t be drinking too much and start getting myself running and training for the race. I kept going out, but generally stayed sober. We also went to his friend’s place to watch Eurovision. Hilarious. It’s kind of like American Idol but the performers are all professional and from each European country; they are all competing for the highest score. Honestly, the costumes were ridiculous and the performers were overly dramatic, but it was highly entertaining. I suggest YouTubing this immediately.

Looking around the streets of Sweden, the people are exactly what you’d expect, Beautiful. Krister told me that I was probably going to be very average compared to everyone else (thanks, jerk); they all look like your stereotypical Barbie beauties; tall, thin, blonde hair, blue eyed and stunning. I wonder how you make people this pretty or if they’re aliens—maybe they’re manufactured? Anyway, I also found a gym to work out at, though I had to pay ten dollars a day (ouch), but it was highly necessary because I was completely out of shape for the upcoming marathon due to the inability to do consistent running in India; I only had two weeks to train for it! Krister was writing a paper for the first two weeks and occasionally going to class, so I spent most of my time wondering around the city. I went into an interesting cemetery, which was more like a Zen garden, and to the nearby botanical garden in the first few days. Mostly, I was enjoying the foreign concept of returning to the same place and not actually living out of a suitcase (he gave me two shelves to unpack my few belongings onto; what a host!). Though I appreciated the change; it made me homesick, desiring a career, my own bed, all my friends, the bartender that knows how to make me a Kettle/soda just the way I like it…what’s the word? Oh, Stability.

Procrastination Station

2009-06-10T07:03:00.000-07:00

It's clearly been forever since I've posted. Don't worry, I'm alive. I was in Sweden for a few weeks and I just landed in Kenya a few days ago. I have a lot of blogs typed up on my computer, I just need some wireless and you have plenty of 9-5 procrastination:) Coming soon to a website near you!

Adieu, Asia, Adieu

2009-05-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

The last week in Asia was pretty uneventful, at least, in relation to the last few months. After my delectable shower, I decided to go eat anything that tickled my fancy, sandwiches, pastries, mashed potatoes, candy bars, cheetos, even Mountain Dew (what??? When do I consume these things?). I pretty much did this for three days, while updating my blog and watching movies in my room, Kathmandu’s hustle and bustle drove me up the wall; I just wasn’t in the mood to be heckled, stared at, whatever, so I basically just hit from everyone. I got a message from my Canadian friends, Jo and Bret, that they were hanging out in Pokhara and they told me to hop on a bus to join them. I had been wrestling with the idea of seeing a little more of India, but after realizing that I didn’t even have the patience for Nepal, I would have no hope in India. I booked a bus to leave at 7sm and then went out for dinner. I found a Mexican restaurant called Jesse James that had nachos, one of my key cravings while hiking—sold. As soon as they were placed in front of me I knew it was a bad idea but I dove in anyway. So much cheese and refried beans, my stomach immediately was killing me. I went back to watch a movie and lie down. At about one am I was done for. I hardly slept because I had to keep rushing to the bathroom to, ahem, relieve myself. 6:30 am rolled around and I was in no shape to get on a bumpy, windy seven-hour bus ride. I decided I had to stay in a horizontal position for longer. Luckily, later that day, they said I could just pay two dollars and change the ticket to the next morning—horray! I avoided anything could agitate my temperamental stomach for the rest of the day and made the morning bus, no problem.

Ii got to the guesthouse Jo said they were at at two in the afternoon; the man at reception said they had ched out and left—what? I knew that Bret had to go, but why did Jo leave??? He gave me a room and I immediately raced to the internet café to see if she had left a message, only to find her in a book store across the street. Thank God; apparently, the guy that told me they left was being rude, so she moved across the street. I went back to get my belongings and the man said it was too late because I had already checked in. I stopped and said no, you KNEW my friend went across the street—you lied to me and you know you did; sorry, I’m not staying and I’m not paying. How dare he lie to me and expect my business; sorry, sweetheart, I’ve been scammed way too many times in the past eight months, you’re not getting me, this time.

Pokhara is so much more relaxed than Kathmandu; it’s what Nepal is really like. yes, there are some stares and a bit of heckling but, in general, we were free to wonder and be left alone. We spent a lot of time talking/reading/eating and movie watching. Our sleep schedules are so off from trekking that we’re tired at eight or nine at night. I got up to go for a run twice (whoo!); the first time in a month!! The Stockholm race is going to be a challenge to say the least. We also rented bikes and peddled around the lake until the road was too bumpy ad we had to turn back. We went through little villages and saw kids biking to school, men fishing, people going about their daily lives. The best part was, they didn’t care about us one bit; we could go about our business (and observe a bit) while they went about with theirs. The view is supposed to be amazing because there are mountains surrounding the town, however, they could rarely be seen in the distance because of what looked like clouds but turned out to be smoke coming form forest fires. The country doesn’t have the money to put them out (and many people don’t even know this is occurring) so they’re just waiting for the monsoon season to put them out---what??? That’s exactly what we need to be happening to the world’s oxygen and timber supply, let it burn—unbelievable.

On our last day in Pokhara, we were wondering around purchasing gifts when we stopped to look at what a Tibetan woman was selling. She was sitting on the ground with a blanket spread out in front of her with the same bracelets/rings/earrings that everyone else has. Suddenly, she started shooing us and yelling, “move!” A water buffalo was taking a stroll down the sidewalk and heading our way. We stepped into an alley and the beast walked right in front of the woman, not trampling any of us, however, with each step, left a plop of poo which missed us completely but splattered all over the woman and her jewelry. EWWWWW. We felt awful; she was light hearted about it, though.

We got on the bus back to Kathmandu at nine am. We had one last meal at our favorite little eatery (where we had seven consecutive meals mostly consisting of momos—steamed dumplings filled with vegetables or meat-or the trekker’s breakfast-coffee, juice, fruit/muesli/curd, and a hard boiled egg) and then took a cab to the bus stop. The ride took FOREVER and was so hot, but at least it had a TV and played Bollywood music videos the whole way. We arrived in Kathmandu at five at night, even though it’s supposed to be a six-hour ride. They dropped us off in Thamel, the main part of the city. I went to get off of the bus, where there are taxi cab and rickshaw drivers crowding the exit yelling at me to use their ride when I slipped on the top step and slid all the way to the ground, slamming my bum and head on every stair. I landed, feet sprawled straight out ion the dusty ground and all the drivers rushed to my side. I was so shocked, I just sat there laughing—yeah, I’m fine, my egos just a bit bruised. Jo took care of getting us a cab, 100 rupees (about a dollar and fifty cents) to get us to her old hotel. We were dropped off, but a room wouldn’t be ready for a few hours so we got some coffee and dinner (more momos). On our way out, we saw our cabbie got stuck in a pothole while backing up and we had to push from the hood, along with another guy, in order to get him out. So random. Her room was way nicer than mine; it had a big queen sized bed, a fan, and a TV with cable. We soaked up a bunch of that whenever there was electricity (It’s frequently out about eight hours of the day)

The next morning we got up and walked to the Monkey Temple. Basically, you climb a bunch of stairs that have monkeys hanging out on them to yet another massive stupor where Buddhist go to pray. It has become painfully commercialized, however, the area is covered with stalls selling souvenirs—at least they don’t harass as much as in India. We wondered around taking photos for a bit and then headed back. I purchased my bus ticket to the boarder for the next day because I was worried about how long it would take me to get into India because the boarders had been closed due to riots. Fortunately for my safety (but not the entertainment level of this story) that was only during the recent election and they had opened a day or two before I left—phew. Had I not gone to Pokhara, though, I may have been in trouble.

I went to the bus stand at 6:30am and a man helped me get my ticket and find the bus—then charged me. I HATE when I fall for that; why isn’t there such a thing as common courtesy here? Everyone, everything, every action has its price. The bus took ten hours to get to the border. Then, I got in a packed jeep, which was a three-hour ride to the Gorekshep train station. Somehow 12 people fit in something that would normally hold six…unbelievable. I grabbed my bag and rushed to catch the train leaving for Mumbai in 25 minutes—Sold out. What? Apparently, there was only general class left, which meant I would be sitting in a hard chair for 36 hours. hahahahah no. The next train was at 5 am and I had to go to another ticket counter to get the ticket. When I got there, however, the counter was closed. At this point I’m standing amidst tons of sleeping Indians looking in circles trying to figure out what in the world to do. Some stranger asked me what I needed and I told him the story when he then let me in on a little train secret that you just buy the general class ticket and exchange it on the train--that would have been good to know a few months ago. I went back to the original counter and purchased a five-dollar ticket and THEN he tells me to go to the sleeper car and exchange it there with the ticket agent—why didn’t you tell me this in the first place!! I rushed to the train after first going to the wrong platform where another guy had to run me back just in time. I decided to splurge for an air-conditioned train and got a bed, no problem. I am sweating profusely at this point; I caught a glimpse of my reflection and, well, it wasn’t the most attractive I’ve ever looked to put it lightly. The AC train cost $25 in total; it may have been one of the best decisions I have ever mad. I received sheets, a pillow and a fleece blanket and laid on my berth reading and sleeping for 36 hours (I finished Three Cups of Tea, started and finished Tuesdays with Morrie, and got halfway through Kite Runner.). It was amazing, also, because no one bothered me because the AC trains usually have mainly well off families with small children, I’ll deal with the occasional crying if I don’t have creepy men leering at me constantly.

After I arrived in Mumbai, I had to take an hour taxi ride back to the Salvation Army. It was WAY hotter and muggier than last time. I dropped my bags and jumped in the first shower in over 50 hours of traveling--yay soap, who cares if the shower is cold? It felt perfect. I spent most of the next two days in cafes and on the Internet. I found somewhere with free wi-fi and air conditioning so that’s what I did between last minute errands.

I met a group of girls from the UK who invited me out with them to Leopold’s café my last night so I figured why not? We drank way too much beer and sang our hearts out along wit the blaring American music. We headed back to the Salvation Army at 12:30 to make our curfew and I left in a cab or the Airport. My flight was leaving at 5 am and a cab would take an hour, so off I went. I was drunk going through security, but no one seemed to notice or care. I couldn’t really sleep, so I just sat around eating Kit Kats and French fries from KFC until it was time to board. I couldn’t sleep on the six hour plane ride to Doha, Qatar, either, so I watched movies on my personal TV screen. I then had to sit in the Doha airport for EIGHT hours without the proper currency to purchase food or water, ugh. I used the free Internet until my computer died and then lay down on the ground and tried to get some shut eye. Very little luck. This airport is very pristine, everything is white and glass; there is some intense air conditioning pumping, as well. There are even quiet rooms to sit in and men’s and women’s prayer rooms. My flight to Stockholm I finally got some shut eye, thank God! I arrived to my friend, Krister’s, place in Uppsala after a thirty-minute bus ride and over 20 hours of traveling. Ahhh, what a breath of fresh air, literally ☺

Safaricom Marathon Money Begging

2009-05-01T03:28:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don’t know (or don’t remember) a part of my trip was to run a marathon on every continent to
A) keep in shape
B) Do something effectively imbedding myself into each culture and
C) raise awareness for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society.
I have already run three full marathons (26.2 miles, 42.195km) on this trip in Ecuador, New Zealand and Thailand…Sweden is less than a month away. But those aren’t this post’s point.

My final marathon of the trip (and on the 6th continent) is the Safaricom Marathon on June 27th which will be run in Lewa, Kenya through the Masai Mara—the Serengeti on the Kenyan side. The proceeds go to the wildlife conservation; who doesn’t like to help animals? I know I do, and I bet you do, too, because you know me and would love to support me.

I’m not looking for anything as substantial as I was for the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society (I raised over $4,200, if you recall, thank you for all of your support!). I already had to donate $250 dollars of my small, sad backpacker budget in order to hold my place. Not to mention, it costs a small fortune for accommodation on the safari (because I don’t have $200 to burn each night, I’m going to hopefully find myself a tent so I can stay in the self-catered camp for about 100 dollars in total, instead…or maybe I’ll just lay my sleeping bag out under a picnic table).

Here’s what I’m asking; help! Yep, monetary help. I know everyone’s finances are low because of the shhhheconomiccrisisssshhhhh, but I don’t need much. $5-10 from a couple people will go a long way. So, please, click the little donate button to the side and help me out☺ Plus, I’m sure there will be some good pictures of lions and other animals chasing me down because I will most likely be the last person finishing—white girl’s got nothin’ on those professional runners.

You can find out more about the marathon, as well as the organization it supports at

http://www.tusk.org/safaricom-marathon-2009.asp.

Thank you for your support!

I dream of Cuisine

2009-05-01T01:34:00.000-07:00

Instead of editing my previous blog post; I’m just going to write a new one consisting of the random details I forgot to mention….

1) I was living off of a 400-500 rupee a day budget (that’s about 5-6 dollars); this includes food and accommodation. This meant that I had to find the cheapest room as well as the cheapest food; the room wasn’t an issue, usually I could have my own room for 100 rupees. Food, on the other hand, was a bit more difficult. The cheapest thing with any sort of substance was RaRa Noodle soup (Instant noodles; yep, I went back to the good ol’ college diet of ramen). However, even THAT got expensive the higher I got (it killed me to spend 3 bucks on something that costs 10 cents in America). After I left Namche Bazaar where I could at least indulge in Snickers bars for 50 rupees a pop, my mind started to get suck on one thought; holidays. I spent my treks dissecting the Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthday tables in my mind. Here’s a list of what I pretended I was actually eating…

Mashed Potatoes with lots of real butter and salt
Grandma’s famous chicken wings
stuffing
Medium rare steak
Aunt Barb’s clam chowder
deviled eggs
Christmas cookies of all shapes and sizes (mainly PB Balls and Spritz)
Mom’s creamy vegetable soup
Mom’s cheesy potatoes
tuna noodle casserole
Domino's Pizza....any pizza, really
loaded nachos (Boston bars make them best)
kraft mac ‘n cheese
cereal
rice krispie bars
Mom’s guacamole
ice cream
chilli/velveeta dip with tortilla chips
hummus
Fresh vegetables and fruits (mainly Pineapple, oranges and cucumbers)
Burritos (Anna’s taqueria)
Dairy queen ice cream cake (or really, anything from Dairy queen)
Wine
Tequila

I think that might be it?

2) Security

The airplane security is an absolute joke. Though, at least they have men's and women's lines where I got a nice gentle goosing. You have to put your pack on a conveyor belt for the "security check" where they pat your bag (who care's that it's solid and you obviously can't feel the contents inside that way) and then they slap a little sticker on it and send you on your way. Do you have firearms, knives or lighters? No. OK. Off you go....

3) Porters

The entire way up and down there are supplies being carried along the path; from Lukla to the highest village at Gorekshep, everything must be carried either on a person’s back or on a Jobka or yak. First of all, how the animals don’t fall off the side of the cliff astounds me; there are no barriers and a lot of the times the path is wide enough for one person to walk comfortably—if the side of the path were to be lose the animal/person would be gone. The men and women carry baskets on their backs with a strap across their forehead to hole the weight. They all walk stooped over carrying anything. Lots are carrying cases of beer, noodles, canned soups; all of which are piled way over their head. The most ridiculous thing I saw was a group of men carrying pillars and planks of wood that were at least twice their height. Not to mention, the majority of the porters are walking in converse knock offs w/out socks or FLIP FLOPS (ALL THE WAY to 5300 meters; it’s damn cold up there). I could hardly get up there with my light bag and in my ratty Nike sneakers. Each and every village started on a porter’s back; everything has to be brought up from wood to the stoves that cook and heat, the bedding, glass, not to mention the consistent supply of food for the inhabitants as well as trekkers. These are some extremely patient and strong individuals.

4) GET ME OUT OF HERE

After 11 days I was done. I loved the view, the solitude, the locals, but DAMN someone please get me a shower and a society. It’s not that I didn’t like being out in nature alone, my view was incredible and I have enough going on in my head to entertain me for quite some time. What drove me nuts was, first of all, the incredible need of a shower. I had succumbed to wiping herbal essences shampoo into my sweatshirt so it didn’t smell god-awful. Plus, the entire trail is so dusty that my legs and feet were a new brown color that I knew wasn’t attributed to any sort of tan. Also, and this is a fun trait that festers throughout every country in Asia I have been to; if one more person were to hawk a loogie at my feet or pick their nose while staring at me, I think I would’ve dropped my bag and let all hell lose. SEROIUSLY, get a tissue.

Mt. Everest Base Camp Hike

2009-04-29T05:33:00.000-07:00

Day 1- Phakding

My flight left out of Katmandu at 6:30 am; it was a 16-passenger plane; the smallest I’ve ever been on! The stewardess handed out candy and cotton balls (for ear plugs) before take off. I rifled around in the seat pocket in front of me to find an airsick bag with a very graphic picture of a cartoon woman vomiting; just incase you weren’t sure what it was for. The view was amazing, cascading over the Himalayas, it was early, though, so I dozed off for a short time. That is, until the plane made an abrupt upwards jolt, just missing a mountain peak—um, was that supposed to happen? Needless to say, I was alert until the landing, which also isn’t very comforting, especially from the back because all you can see is a cliff getting closer as you land on an inclining runway. Phew! I dropped my plane ticket off at t Hotel Sunrise and headed off!

The first day is mostly downhill to help acclimatize; I stayed in a village named Phakding which is at an elevation of 2610 meters. I found a room for 100 rupees ($1.30) and passed out. I was sick in Katmandu and hadn’t been sleeping well. I got in a total of about 15 hours of sleep with a little reading and dinner break in the middle.

Daily Candy bar intake: 1
Candy bar total: 1

Day 2- Namche Bazaar 3440meters

I left at seven am to head to Namche Bazaar (3440meters). This trek was extremely tough and probably one of the more difficult days of the journey. It was basically an upward climb for four hours. I was supremely annoyed with two guys o passed me on horses, GAH! Lazy! Come on, guys, you can’t be any older than I am, get off and walk. Anyway, Namche Bazaar is like a thriving metropolis of a village. Everything is there, shoe repair, bakeries, grocery stores, bars, pharmacies, massage parlors, shops—most itineraries have you stay an extra day here to acclimatize so I guess they figured out how to capitalize on that. I sat outside of a bakery in town reading and watching everyone struggle to make their way up the final push to a guesthouse. I sat there with some tea and way too many 50 rupee snickers bars (the bargain of the trip) while making small talk with some people on their way up and or down. PS. The view out of my room was outstanding! I had two windows where I could watch the sunrise through the Himalayas, over the village—a totally uninterrupted sight.

DCBI-4
Total-5

Day 3

Acclimatization day! In order to ward off Altitude sickness, you’re supposed to take breaks at certain altitudes or if you have gained a certain amount of height in a day. At breakfast I met a Canadian couple who invited me to go with them for a walk up to the viewpoint to catch a glimpse of Everest. Though we took the steep steps slowly, we were all out of breath and had to take numerous breaks before we made it to the top (This is another part of acclimatizing, “hike high, sleep slow”). I spend most of the rest of the day reading and chatting with other trekkers.

DCBI-5
Total-10

Day 4- Tyangboche 3860meters

Time to move on! I headed off to Tyangboche at about 6:30 in the morning. This is another very tough day. The stops out of Namche were so difficult! After that, the trail was flat for about an hour. I was following a porter with a couple Jobcas who was chanting Buddhist prayers. A Jobca, by the way, is a porter animal that is a cross between a cow and a yak; personally, I think they should either be named a Cak or a Yow, but I think it’s a little late to be throwing in my two cents.

Along the way, I ran into two people from Austrailia; Bernie, a middle-aged man and Amy. They were working on catching up to the other fourteen members of their group because a few had to stay an extra day in Namche because they were sick. Bernie told me to hang out with them so I did for half the day. We talked about the leadership program he was running, as well as about my trek and random philosophical questions about life. We met up with two others from their group, Steve and Paige, at lunch time, right before the steep three hour climb to Tyangboche. On the way out, Paige started vomiting, so they decided to rest the night and sent Steven and me off.

The climb up was long but not as bad as heading into Namche. We arrived at around two pm and found a cheap room about 25 minutes down the hill in a nearby village. We trekked back up to see the monastery service, only to realize we were an hour late. Instead, we watched all the monks played soccer with some Kiwi (New Zealand) kids.

DCBI- 2
Total- 12

Day 5- Dingoche 4300 meters
Another early morning, out the door by 6:30 am to get to Dingboche to meet Steve’s group. The beginning was steep and windy, kind of like a human pinball machine. It’s difficult to catch your breath or function normally at high altitude; everything is a labored effort. A lot of the climb was either pretty flat or a gradual incline. We walked along the river, occasionally seeing the peak of Everest surrounded by other, closer towering mountains. We arrived at 11:30 am; quite speedy! Bernie insisted I stay with the group and get a few good free meals since they had a personal chef cooking for everyone. They gave me my own tent and all day we drank tea, ate real food and played cards. The group is so sweet and I got along with them right away. Early that evening Bernie, Paige, and Amy showed up which was a big surprise! That was a long trek to do in one day after being sick—so inspiring! However, I then felt really awful because I was taking up their space. Bernie said not to worry, but the guilt was still there.

Day 6

The Aussie group took off but I decided to follow my itinerary and take a rest day, though they wanted me to join them. I was having fun but I missed trekking alone; I don’t feel like talking about myself to others, though it’s nice to learn they’re finding me interesting and inspirational, I want to be in my own head. Plus, I felt too guilty sleeping and eating for free. I took a nap and did a little acclimatization hike. Other than that I just wrote in my journal, read, and napped; the weather was pretty uninspiring, the clouds were so low and thick that you couldn’t even see the building next door. Plus, there was NO ONE in my guesthouse to talk with.

Day 7- Labuje 4930meters

I hiked from Dingboche to Labuje and it was a struggle! The altitude was getting to me and every step caused incredibly labored breathing. The first half was relatively flat; I had lunch in a little village to warm up (Instant noodle soup, per usual) and then it was supposed to take an hour and a half more to get to Labuje. Ugh. There is a steep hill of rocks to climb with took me an hour and fifteen minutes! I just couldn’t catch my breath. I think I sprawled out on rocks at least five times, and not just sitting, either, pack off and on my back with my arms over my head; sad really. Afterwards, it was basically flat again. I sat watching a group of porters having a rock-throwing contest for a while before making the final move. I rolled into Labuje around 11 and plopped down at the first place for some hot cocoa (I was dying for some sugar and basically ended up just eating it off of a spoon). I was struggling to muster the strength to move on to Gorekship. A porter told me there were no rooms available because of a cricket tournament. Someone else told me it was a bad idea to go so high in one day, so I figured I'd listen to all of the signs and stay in Labuje. Good thing, because a little while later it started snowing!!!

Day 8- Gorekshep 5184 meters

I was physically glad to have listened to all of the signs to stay in Labuje, but I was a bit upset on the flip side because I missed the last day of the Cricket tournament! Not that I know anything about Cricket because, well let's be honest, Americans couldn't give a hoot about that "odd" sport, but I missed the game and tall the celebration (read: cute, sporty guys) as well as my Aussie friends. However, the trek that day was brilliant@ I couldn't help but smile the whole time; the weather was perfectt, bright blue, hardly a cloud and no wind, not to mention I had the first half to myself. If I sat down and relaxed my breath, it was silent; just a few birds chirping and distant water rushing, perhaps the jingling of the bells on a Yak's collar. I spent too much time enjoying myself because porters and other trekkers soon caught up with me. It wasn't too busy, though, maybe a half hour before I arrived in Gorekshep, I ran into my Aussie family. We sat and chatted for a while, giving both groups a much needed break. They unloaded all of their extra candy bars and granola snacks onto me (thank god!). I skipped my way down the hill into the village; so excited to be in Gorekshep! Sadly, it was 9:30 am, so I had a long day of nothing to do, oh well. I wanted to be up at around 4:30 am to get to Kala Pattar so I figured I deserved a big rest. Bedtime, 5:30 pm.

DCBI- 3 (one full, two minis)
Total- 15

Day 9- Everest Base Camp 5357 meters

I woke up early but couldn't get myself to function at 4:30 am to hike Kala Pattar. I decided to sleep in and walk to Base camp instead.. I met two Brittish girls who were going, as well, so I tagged along with them. The hike is maybe two to two and a half hours to Everest Base Camp, but you only gain 200 meters in altitude, so it's fairly flat most of the time. At first, you hike through a valley and for the next third or so you're on top of a ridge between valleys of rocks created by the movement of the Khumbu glacier, where the EBC sits. On this ridge, we decided to take a break and look at the view. One of the girls wasn't paying attention and accidentally kicked her jacket in it's carrying case down into the valley. A guy we were talking to volunteered to help her get it; this took over an hour because it was so steep and the rocks fell away with every step. After the ridge, you walk over the glacier to get to base camp. Mud is covering melting ice, making it very slippery, but the terrain was like nothing I'e ever seen. There are ice towers sticking out of the ground, massive rocks on solid ice platforms and lakes in between; it's amazing. Luckily, right as I was getting onto the glacier, I met Simon an older man from the UK was who leaving to try to summit the next day. He helped me weave through the puddles and crevices to get to the main camp and more importantly, the bakery! That's right, at 5380 meters there's a tent with fresh baked deliciousness waiting to be purchased; cookies, croissants, banana bread, and apple pie! I decided to wait for the girls before I went in. They strolled over maybe ten-minutes later with one of the summit guides they had met in Namche. He invited us all up to his camp for tea. They unfolded some chairs out of the wind and in the sun and served up some chai and ginger snap, yummy. There are hundreds of tents in this area and everyone is here for a few weeks to acclimatize before the 3000 meter climb to the summit. Apparently it only takes five days but way too many people die in this time due to altitude sickness and frostbite. Apparently, at the fourth and last camp before the summit, Southcol, there are bodies of thos who have died and have yet to be brought back which is sad and disgusting that people you know could leave you to die to make it to the summit, to make the $80,000 goal worth it. After tea, we ate in the bakery for a bit before finally trekking back an hour and a half to Gorekshep. The other girls started to head down, whereas i had to tackle kala Pattar in the morning before I could finally decrease in altitude. I grabbed my book and a blanket and st in the common space/restaurant until dinner. There I met two older guys from Colorado, Dave and gary. They were also hiking to KP in the morning. We chatted for a while about our travels/home/whatever and had some dinner before turning in early for the crack of dawn wake up call.

Day 10- Kala Pattar 5643meters

At 4:30 am I rolled out of bed and bundled myself together to head 400 meters up to Kala Pattar. When I first got to Gorkeshep, an Aussie woman pointed to the steep hill behind the guesthouse and said, "I'm pretty sure that's it." I slowly made my way, one full in and out breath each step, up the hill, only to get to the top and find another and another. By this time, I could barely see the three that started before me and the group that began a half hour after me had passed on by. I crouched down in a ball to catch my breath and try to warm up a bit since the sun still hadn't completely rise, so, sipite all my physical efforts, I still couldn't warm up. The other group's guide stopped by me and asked if I was ok, if I needed hot water or anything. I probably should've said yes, but for some reason I didn't. Instead I asked how far to the top to which he replied maybe 45 minutes. What??? I thought it was only supposed to be an hour and a half "tops." At this point, I almost lost it, I seriously wasn't sure if I could keep going, but deep down, I knew the problem was my mind and not my body. I shed a couple of tears and the guide said it was ok to go down if I needed. I let me know I could do it, I just needed to pull myself rogether. I stood up and took a deep breath as the sun finally came up. Before taking off, the guide said in broken English, "you know story of the tortoise and the rabbit?"

Lol, yes, I do.

Slowly, slowly, just go slowly, slowly.

I smiled and started slowly walking, again. The last bit, you just have to crawl and carefully maneuver over big bloack rocks to get to the peak, evered in peace flags. I collapsed on a flat rock in front of Dave and gary; they laughed and their guide handed me some cookies where I desperately needed. I hadn't eaten sicne my instant noodle soup at 7pm the night before and I thought I'd go cross eyed and fall off the rocks. Once I sat up and turned around, however, the two-plus hour verticle hike was worth it. We were surrounded by stunning snow capped mountains, over to the left we could see the EBC 200 meters down and gehind that, Mt. Everest looming behind, the world' highest peak just waiting to be conquered. I sat on Kala Pattar (Black Rock) staring at the crystal clear sky contrasting with the illuminated mountains before heading back down--30 minutes tops! I sat in the guesthouse--numbed by tmy efforts for a while, mustering up the courage to start finally heading down.

After some hot instant noodles, I packed up my belongings, making the decision to leave my heavy food behind. When I was in New Zealand, I made up this trekking concoction of Muesli, peanut butter, and jelly; I made three massive bags of this stuff before I left and had hardly touched it. I just couldn't get myself to consume it, I was revolted by it and would rather be hungry. My pack was so much lighter! I piled my clothes back on and headed toward Pheriche. Thank God it was mostly downhill. The majority of the trip I remembered, but Pheriche is down in a valley where I hadn't been yet. I walked along the river through the most fertile vegetation I've seen in a while. I hopped over rocks and mud and yak dung (which, when dried, they gather to use on the stoves to heat the restaurants) towards a little stone village where families were playing with the kids in the grass and an old woman was lifting stones to mend her "fence." I saw a couple of cute, fluffy baby Yaks, but when I went to take my camera out Papa starting inching closer, snorting and stomping. I stood for a while, trying not to make eye contact and figure out how to pass. Eventually, he turned around and I made a break for it--totally unnoticed. I met up with dave and Gary and immediately passed out, exhausted. They woke me up for dinner and I figured today was the day to try Dahl Baht. This is basically like an Indian Thali--rice, curry, dahl (a thick lentil soup), and spicy pickled vegetables, but it's unlimited! I could barely move by the time I had finished and had never felt more satisfied. I slept like a rock.

Day 11- Tyangboche 3864meters

We took our sweet time getting ready to leave today, why not, right? The owner had the cutest little daughter of maybe two years old and has so much personality. We all took loads of photos of her before finally heading off. The boys left around eight; I always give them a bit of a head start because A) though they have 30 plus ears on me, they're still way faster and fitter than I am and B) Kelly does not trek well with others. I just like to be by myself when I'm wondering through nature; I like to be in my own head. I got lost at the very beginning because i wasn't sure if i crossed the river or not and then it didn't seem to make sense to hike up a massive hill to go down a mountain but, the porters all assured me I was on the correct path; they know way btter than the girl with no map or sense of direction. I got to reverse conquer the rock hill that destroyed me a week earlier. I started heading down, excited and saying out loud (like a crazy person) "you're MINE!" I was so wrong. I started slipping on everything and tripping over nothing until I finally admitted that I was still inferior to the hill.

I ended up staying back in Tyangboche so I could see the monk ceremony I had missed on the way in. I read in the sunshine for a few hours ("Three Cups of Tea"--phenomenal book) and then went into the monastery at four. Monks were cloaked in crimson robes, sitting cross-legged on cushioned benches chanting and drinking tea for 20-30 minutes. Visitors are allowed in to watch and take photographs after. Maybe 30 in and I was appalled by the disrespect that was shown--flash photography, talking, and worst of all, people getting up and leaving. REALLY????? You can't sit for twenty minutes? What else do you have to do? There's nothing else but to keep hiking. I was sick and so was the woman next to me who shared my distaste. The ceremony was simple but beautiful--I don't even know how these men and boys make the sounds that they do; I closed my eyes and felt the vibrations move through my body. The inside of the room was decorated in the colors of the peace flags (red, white, blue, green and yellow, with gold accents and the walls have intricate murals painted with the scenes of Buddha's life.

Day 12- Namche 3440meters

I took off early to try to get to Lukla, which was supposedly about a six hour hike. First, however, I needed back to Namche. The three hour one-third down, one-third up, and one-third mostly flat hike to Namche was touch and I wasn't sure how I could keep going. Luckily, I found $6 in my wallet and a money exchange, so I could afford to stay the night. First think I did was buy a few snickers bars and inhale them--ahhh, sweet, sweet chocolate. It was a good think I found this, because it turns out the hike from Namche to Lukla ITSELF it six hours, not 3-4. Early bed time, again:)

DCBI- 2
Total-17

Day 13-Lukla 2900 Meters

I left around 8 to make my final moves. I was so pissy for the first half to Phakding. I was just ready to be done after 13 days; plus, I hate taking the same path both directions because it always seems to take longer/be more difficult than you remember. Luckily, I ran into Dave and Gary at the halfway point and they filled me with trail mix, energy bars, and palin good psirits to finish the uphill hike to Lukla. Though the clouds had rolled in and everwhere looked gray, I was feeling much better and performing far superior to the morning. I tackled the uphill climb, no problem and basically ran through town, past the Starbucks (how there's a Starbucks and no ATM in this little village, I don't quite understand) to Hotel Sunrise to get a room. For 100 rupees I somehow ended up with a real, QUEENsized bed and comforter--ahhh; passed out instantly.

After my nap, I found Dave and gary on their way to a bar for happy hour--free beer? Why, yes please:) I was pleasantly intoxicated after two beers (not sloppy, just pleased--hey, I deserved it!) altitude+hard work+barely drinking=:) I went back with Dave and gary to eat dinner; we shared some greasy french fries and then went back to the bar. I watched them play pool for a while and then went to bed at the late late hour of 8pm.

DCBI-1
Total- 18

Day 14

I was so paranoid that I wouldn't wake up for my flight that my eyes were wide open around four when it was still dark! I left for the five minute walk to the airport at 6:45 in order to search for the man with my ticket. My flight was to leave at eight but didn't shop up until ten. At this point, I was so pissy, I just wanted to get back and have a shower. We landed and got a prepaid taxi, but had no money; we stopped at three ATM's before I could finally wrangle some cash. Then, the highlight, the longest, hottest, most desperately needed shower of my life. Ahhh. I smell like flowers and no longer look like Kenny from South Park.

K-K-K-K-Katmandu

2009-04-29T05:29:00.002-07:00

I left at 11 pm to get to the train station; I had to walk through dark windy alleys, which was a bit nerve racking, until I got to the main road. A rickshaw driver brought me for fifty rupees but when we arrived he tried to charge me more “for parking” sorry buddy, you can’t pull that crap on me. I know he charged me too much already, why so much greed? The train was 1.5 hours late and arrived at two am; this was KILLING me because I had been up since five. I bolted up to my bed and passed out. I woke up at 7:30 am to a nearly empty train; I was talking to a German man the entire time we were waiting for the train and he was in the sleeping berth across from me, yet neglected to be gentleman enough to say anything when we had arrived in Gorakpur. Grumble. I quickly grabbed my things and exited the train before it took off again, accidentally leaving all of my medication, water bottle, and food. Boo. I needed to catch the two and a half hour bus ride to Saunali, the boarder town where I could cross into Nepal-- nice young, obviously educated, Indian man walked me to the bus and made sure they waited for me to load all of my belongings onto the bus. I saw the German man standing by himself at the building, but was too far away to help him find his way, as well…karma? Anway, the driver tried to overcharge me, which I knew, but the ticket guy basically pretended like he didn’t hear me and walked away. Thankfully, another Indian man on the bus helped me out to make sure the guy gave me my change.

Crossing the border into Nepal is easy as pie. Get off the bus and walk ten minutes, tips, to the immigration (DON’T take a rickshaw though they all say something along the lines of “very far”) then walk a bout ten more yards and spend ten minutes and $40 on a visa. Voila! I booked a seven hour bus ride to Kathmandu and also a guest house; I was trying to stay at Peace Guest House, which a friend recommended—they booked me into Hotel Peace Night, because apparently it was the same thing.

The ride along the Himalayas was beautifulyet petrifying; sharp, windy turns at high speeds where there are overturned semi-trucks everywhere…eek. I tried to focus on the mountains so as to not worry abut crashing off the cliffs. We arrived at Kathmandu at around eight pm. I was to be picked up by my guesthouse, so the minibus dropped me off on the side of a dark road in Thamel.

“Wait, you’re just going to leave me here in the dark, alone?”

They shut the door and drove off. Ruh Roh.

Ten minutes after, a man on a motorcycle picks me up.

But, wait, I have a backpack AND a rucksack.

No problem.

I sat behind him and he heaves my bag onto my lap sideways and off we go. Now, I don’t like bikes, in general, so I’m not feeling too safe in the dark along all these bumpy dirt roads. At one point, I almost fell off because my bag slammed into a pedestrian and nearly threw me off the back. We finally got to Hotel Peace Night and y Canadian friends weren’t there. I figured I’d worry about it in the morning; I just wanted to sleep. I get into my room and have a strange urge to check for bed bugs—none to be seen, so I turned out the lights. Within a minute I felt something crawling on me. I jumped up and found a flat black bug—is this what I think it is? I put it in between a plastic bag and squeeze; it pops, shooting blood on my face—ew, ew EW! I run downstairs, but the owner is gone and only a boy that hardly speaks English is there and says my room will be changed tomorrow. Ugh, that doesn’t help!

I went to sleep in my sleeping bag on the floor. I got up in the middle of the night to pee, only to find COCKROACHES all over the bathroom-groosssssssssss. I’ll deal with some disgusting rooms, but this is uncalled for. I got up early and grabbed my stuff at checked out. They told me they’d put me in a room with “no bug.” Sorry, kids, those bugs life in the wood and fabric, you don’t have just one. I moved to another recommendation, Potala Guest House…ahhhh so clean, steaming hot showers and a KEY! I was in heaven. I took a hot shower by candlelight (the city’s electricity is shut off for a few hours in the morning) and then went for breakfast. A Nepalese man started chatting with me and brought me to a popular bakery/breakfast spot. After, I tried to find Jo and Bret at the real Peace Guest House; little did I know there are about four and they weren’t at any of them. I received an email from them later so we could meet up for dinner. It just so happened to be New Year’s Eve in Nepal, so we had some good food and a few pitchers of beer (the first in a LONG time) while telling traveling stories to each other and two guys net to us for a few hours and then headed off to sleep because we were all exhausted. It was a bit scary going home, even thought Katmandu is very safe, because people party and drink in this country and I haven’t seen that type of night life activity in a long time. Everything was totally fine, however.

The next morning, I got up early to meet with a guy from the tour company Trek Nepal to buy my plane tickets to Lukla for my Mt. Everest Base Camp Trek. I had met with him the day before and he said to be there at eight am. He wasn’t there and I didn’t want to deal with a new person, so I kept coming back. Around one they told me that he was not coming in and they’d help me. I was SO ANGRY. They just didn’t understand that that’s not how you should deal with customers; now I have to go through everything again, it’s such a waste of time. We all argued for a bit and finally, I got fed up and caved. I needed to leave the next day and didn’t really have time to shop all over again. After that, things were better, they brought me to rent a jacket and a bag (less than $10 for two weeks) and sent me on my merry little way. I ran around buying supplies for my trek (Iodine tablets, more penicillin, food, and socks) until I met up with Jo for a farewell pizza dinner; It was so good, I can’t remember the last time I had pizza! We then went our separate ways because she and Bret decided to do the Annapurna trek.

V-Nasty

2009-04-29T05:29:00.001-07:00

I met two British 18 year old girls waiting for the train to Varanassi. They’re very sweet, but I’m severely worried about them (cute/blonde/mildly clueless/innocent) traveling through India. I hung out with them a bit over the next couple days. They dressed a bit inappropriately, for starters. Though, they said they cover up way more than at home, they are still severely underdressed for this culture—short skirts and tank tops with bra straps and cleavage showing is a recipe for disaster. There are a few more things that I will mention later. Anyway, they were riding first class AC (which is insane—curtains around your bed, just unnecessary) while I was in non air-conditioned sleeper class, probably a third of the price. I met a girl from Brazil on the train in the morning (I kind of met her at night, but had to run and hide on my bed when a little boy saw me and started screaming at a pitch that could practically shatter glass) The girl’s name is Camilla and she’s super cool/interesting and really seems to have her life in order and on her own path. She’s 24 and has been married to a Nepalese man for two years. She’s been to India before and is back for a year. She had a guitar with her and was playing beautiful, personal music. We also talked about a charity organization she’s trying to start, as well as some video things she’d like to see produced. She hinted at getting me involved in making a documentary, and Id love to see if it follows through (but I’ve also heard this numerous times throughout the past seven months).

Once off the train, I met back up with the other girls and we piled into a rickshaw to get to our guesthouse; we had to walk through narrow, windy alleys or what seemed like forever until we finally arrived (and then proceeded to walk up five flights of stairs to get to the room). Horray for a real shower! It’s sad how excited you get abou the little things. I just sat around that night and relaxed. The next day, I got up at six for yoga, thought the teacher never showed, and hun gout with the girls for most of the day at the Brown Bread Bakery which has actually amazing food (a CHEESE list) and the proceds go to children in need. It was so good, but we all over did it—so full! after that, we went down to the Manikarnika Ghat ( there are over 80 ghats along the Ganges here, which is where people go to bathe and wash their clothes. This is actually nuts because the water is so polluted with fecal matter. I don’t understand how they think they’re getting clean; there are 30 large sewers draining into the river along the seven kilometer stretch, cause 1.5 million fecal coli form bacteria per 100ml—the safe bathing figure should be less than 500!!!!!!!) Anyway, this Ghat is where people go to cremate their loved ones. They have to pay for the wood, which is priced by the type (the most expensive is sandlewood) as well as how much is needed for the weight of the person. The family sings all the way down to the ghat, following the body which is covered in a different colored sheet depending on male/female/young/old/profession, etc. Also, those closest to the deceased—father, brother, son—dresses in white and shaves off their hair at the ghat; they then take burning sticks and light the body. It was so sad to see someone turning to ashes before my eyes. Though I was in tears, the mood of the area was oddly average; people were chatting, no one minded that tourist were watching (though photos aren’t allowed, one of the British girls tried to take a picture and I yelled at her and she didn’t get why she couldn’t play photographer—it’s someone’s FUNERAL—oh, yeah, forgot about that, didn’t you?). Anyway, after that, we went to Dasaswamedh Ghat for the sunset ceremony; hundreds of people, mostly Indians, gather to listen to changing with drums and bells chiming while men wave candles and incense in a unified dance under lights along the river. I passed out after that because I was still so full.

I got up at five the next morning to go on a sunrise riverboat ride on the Ganges—it was beautiful, though its obviously not as amazing as in Rishikesh because there are no mountains here and the water is filthy. We traveled alongside of the ghats to see people bathing, praying, and washing their clothes; going about their daily business. It’s funny how you cannot escape heckling no matter where you go. Two rowboats came up, one selling jewelry and trinkets and the other with DVD’s with a full on TV set and video player—can we please watch the sunrise, just do ANYTHING in peace for once? There is no rest in India. I was supposed to go to yoga after, but I was far too tired and rested for a bit. Then checked out of my room and wondered along the ghats. It was a bit eerie walking around; not a lot of people were outside. I walked by a family and the children all started yelling “hello,” per usual and then the mother asked me why I was out. Um, to see the ghat, I guess? She was a bit concerned and told me to be very careful; I had no idea it was supposed to be dangerous, though, I think she was more worried about my poor white skin in the heat. After shopping around for a while, I went to a Nepalese temple. It was very small, but had intricate erotic woodcarvings in and around it.

I met up with the girls for one last meal before heading back to the hotel. I chatted with an older guy from Canada about traveling around India and what not for a while. He has Indian friends and apparently, he’s found out a few reasons why Indian men are obsessed with Western women. One is because they think that we all get our jollies from, ahem, reverse entry. What?? We both thought that that was a bit absurd; do you think you can really categorize an entire CULTURE sexually? Another thing is that apparently the average Indian woman does not make eye contact with men they don’t know; that’s how they can tell the difference between the sex workers and an average woman on the street, not by their dress, but via eye contact. This is quite difficult because, obviously, that is a sign of respect and just a polite gesture in our culture.

Con- Agra

2009-04-29T05:28:00.001-07:00

I finally peeled myself away from Rishikesh; it was hard to move on because I had met some really cool people and developed some solid relationships—such is the life of a traveler. I spent twelve hours in transit to get to Agra to see the Taj Mahal.; I met a girl from Germany on the train and we decide to get a taxi together to share a room to save on costs. We accidentally slept in too late to see the sun rise, so we split up and I went for a nature walk and ran into an unexpected view of the Taj through trees and flowers—stunning! This city is extremely intense, so I tried to keep to myself for most of the day. A group of boys were bugging me so I decided to try out one of the Hindi phrases the girls in Goa taught me, “ Kudakevaste maya picha chordo!” Meaning, “for the love of God, leave me alone.” The outcome wasn’t anywhere nearly as effected as anticipated; they boys thought this was hilarious and attached themselves to me even more until I finally veered off into a hidden restaurant.

The next morning we got up at 5:30 to be in the first group into the Taj when it opened at sunrise; It’s gorgeous! Not a whole lot to it, there’s only a decorated tomb inside so the whole point is to spend $15 to get on the grounds to take photos. It was nice being there so early because I have a lot of shots with no tourists in it; the area was so quiet!

After, I got an e-mail from my mom freaking out about the staph infection on my face; saying I had to go to a hospital. I decided to first try the Dr. near the guesthouse that the receptionist told me was “very, very good.” I sat in the office, which was in a house and there wre maybe twenty Indians sitting and waiting in the hallway for the Doctor. I sat for over an hour while the “doctor” stitched a kid up in back and everyone in the waiting room stared at me through the slits in the door or, if they were bold enough, walked right inside the door and just stood a few feet away look at me like I might disappear or shape shift—no blinking, can’t miss a thing! It was so frustrating because I was there to get medical attention; I look disgusting, I feel hideous and I really don’t want to be dealing with being a spectacle. Finally, the Dr. comes in and asks what’s wrong. I brush my bangs aside to show home my pussy scabs and he starts writing a big list of pills and creams and tell ms me to go. Woah, woah, wait; so, do you know what this is?

Yes, I know. And he waves me out.

Ok, you should TELL me. At least let me know what these things on the list are

Pills, pills, creams; go with the boy.

UGH! The boy tries to bring me to the pharmacy and I just start getting really upset; I’m not going to blindly take a ton of pills without an explanation. Never mind, I’m going to the hospital that’s in the Lonely Planet. I get a rickshaw driver that agrees to bring me to all the places I need to go for 100 rupees. Thank God he was cool—I went to the District hospital and would have been completely lost without the driver’s help. There are hundreds of Indians everywhere and I kept getting shuffled from crumbling room to crumbling room, one man at a desk to another. They hardly looked at me; one guy writes down some words and I’m brought to the front of a long line where they snip off a bunch of pills and send me to yet another man in a dark room behind a desk, where I figure they are going to now make me pay for all of these pills that I don’t want—he was clearly just there to take inventory, wrote down everything, and since I was about three seconds from full out crying, he tried to explain then pills to me. He said a few words I recognized as helpful which calmed me down a bit. By the way, all of this was free.

After all this stress, I went to a nearby “classy” hotel where I could pay a dollar to use their gym—horray treadmill! I think, however, this was one of the very first joggers ever created; it had a metal frame at a slight incline, the belt was on metal rollers and if you didn’t hold on, you immediately went into an all out sprint and flew off. I ran for a while, then decided to go back to the pharmacy to purchase penicillin, a drug I was familiar with and could trust, at a whopping 14 cents a pill☺ I love the price of medication here. Anyone need me to pick them up anything? I hung out at a café, watching a movie and chatting with a guy from the UK until it was train time, yet again—next stop, Varanassi.

AWKWARD MOMENT

On the way to the Agra Guesthouse, the taxi driver asked me if I had come from Delhi. I said, no Rishikesh, which is actually further. He said, oh, I knew. You know how I knew? Because of the smell coming from you. Ouch. Sorry, I’ve been sweating on a train for twelve hours; your entire country smells like a mixture of garbage, feces, and spices, who are you to judge?

Karma Police

2009-04-29T05:26:00.000-07:00

Sorry it’s been so long! I’ve been out of contact with the modernized world for two weeks! Here’s what I’ve been doing starting back almost a month ago (eeek, sorry!)

On way out of Rishikesh, I started thinking a lot about Karma and all the problems I have with it. So, Karma is basically kind of a pay back process with the universe—good and bad things happen if you, in turn, commit good and bad actions. Ok, I get that, I like that, you screw me out of money and later at some point you will get what you deserve. However, Karma apparently works off the idea of reincarnation and what you’ve done in past lives; so, if you steal now, you might not pay for it until the next life. This makes no sense to me, whatsoever. Think about this (and I very well might come off offensively, but trust me, that is not my intention, I’m just trying to make a point); let’s say that a Jewish man decides to take me away from my home and torture me via excessive physical labor and lack of sustenance, or maybe just kill me straight away with a bullet to the head or throw me in a gas chamber—is that ok? Of course not, you’d say (assumption). This is how I feel, as well, but it seems to me that that’s how karma can work. This, “payback over generations” thing is like saying that that would have been “my karma,” that I deserved to die because, being that my heritage is German, maybe I have an ancestor who was in WWII. Though I have nothing to do with the act, I’m somehow tied to it, and though Kelly now wouldn’t DREAM of committing such a crime, I still must pay. Puuuuuuuuhleeeeze. If I steal, cheat, lie, whatever, the universe needs to make me deal with it now, while I have some sort of recollection of my sin; either make me pay or kill me in such a way that I do—don’t wait to pounce until I’m too far removed to understand.

Ok, so there’s that. Now, let’s say, I , for example, die from Lung Cancer (because “karma uses my stupidity-read; addiction-against me”). So that means that EVERYONE I know is affected; do they all deserve to deal with this loss? And, what if they don’t? If one of my friends has immaculately good karma, does that save me or do they get some sort of treat in the future for having endured something that they didn’t deserve? Does that universe only work off what we’ve done, or can it owe use intern, in good and bad ways?

I, personally, know that I believe in spirits; I’m sorry, I have proof. I have a painting that I slopped together just after my grandfather’s death of a dragon when I was maybe 8. I let the picture dry for a few hours and when I went back to check on it, there were intricate flames coming out of it’s mouth. No one in the physical world had touched it and there’s no way that the person who painted the sloppy polka dotted figure could have produced those flames, as well. Is there room for karma and an afterlife?

What do you think?

Yoga Capital of the World

2009-04-05T00:55:00.000-07:00

I got up at six am to start traveling to Rishikesh. The train left at seven and I got to the Haridwar at about two in the afternoon. The train was only a sitter, unlike all the others I had previously traveled on. I was next to two young women who spoke a little English and kept offering me their food; it was very sweet. When I got off the train, a taxi driver told me he’d take me for 800 rupees. Are you NUTS? It’s a half hour drive to Rishikesh, I paid 137 for the nine hours to Haridwar!! I said no way and that I’d take the bus; he said there wasn’t one and I looked him in the eye and said, are you sure? He said yes without batting an eyelash and I shook my head because I knew he was lying. Karma, Buddy, Karma. There’s a tourist office at the font gate and the woman told me where to go and that what the taxi driver was doing was illegal: I’m proud of myself for not getting monetarily screwed as much as I used to.

The bus was ten rupees, though hard to find because there are about fifty buses and no designated spot for the one to Rishikesh, so everyone keeps pointing you in another direction. I ran into a couple from Germany who helped me out since they had been here before. We finally found the right one and got there in no time. Being that they had been here before, they also helped me get to the Ashram I wanted to stay at, Ved Niketan. It’s along side the Ganges River. I’m not going to lie, it looks a bit like a prison; it’s bright orange and has a wire fence around it. The rooms are in a two-story square around the complex, in the center another building sits where there are yoga classes. I can practice yoga twice a day, plus a spiritual discussion and have my own room for 100 rupees; 2 American Dollars!! I had two Indian teachers, however, they didn’t do much adjusting which I need since I am painfully new to yoga and have no real clue what I’m doing. I met a girl, Courtney from Canada, when I was having breakfast and she told me to try out her place, Trika Yoga. This was so much better! The class is smaller and the teachers explain the poses (asanas) and the energy it uses as well as the physical and emotional reasons for practicing each posture. I am willing to pay 7 dollars for two, two hour classes and a lecture daily from a hot Scottish man, a cute Canadian girl, and a funny Indian guy. I’ve even been able to get up and go running along the Ganges River on a road through the woods, which has been oh so peaceful!

The lectures have covered a lot of interesting and controversial subjects (at least, for me). There have been a couple concerning different types of meditation and yoga, the reasons behind each of them and who should be practicing each, as well as Chakras, healing, and karma. We also have discussed different purification techniques. I will start this out by saying I have not done any of these (though I might try in order to relay a good story for everyone, yes, I will be your humorous guinea pig). The first of which is Urine therapy; I wasn’t actually here for this lecture, but I’ve heard about this technique from a friend in Thailand (Apparently, there is a good book about it called The Golden Fountain. I’ll read it soon and report back). The main part is that when you urinate in the morning you’re supposed to drink it. Yep, sounds gross, but apparently it’s a really rejuvenating way of bringing nutrients back into your body that haven’t been absorbed as well as antibodies that your system has been producing. Also, another usage is to use it in order to heal cuts, burns, and it is also apparently an anti-aging agent- yep, rub it all over your face and say bye bye wrinkles. I will admit, I put some on my face. I have some sort of skin issue right now where I have a few infected cuts that won’t seem to go away. Apparently, this is part of the purification process from all of my yoga practices, my body is letting go of toxic/negative energies though really attractive sores on my forehead (thank God for bangs). I did it twice, it wasn’t so bad, I don’t know if it helped at all, though, because I gave up and went to a Homeopathic Dr. for some aid (I’ll talk about that in a minute).

Anyway, purification technique number three, Vamana Dhauti, the cleansing of the mid section. It sounds exactly like what you’re going to do—vomit. Basically, the concept is that when you go to sleep at night you should digest everything that you have eaten the night before. However, if food is still left in your stomach, it has become a breeding ground for bacteria, which will then mix with breakfast. Here’s what you’re supposed to do. After you wake up, you’re supposed to drink a liter of warm water quickly and then shake around for about a minute to mix it with whatever may still be hanging around. Then, “the fun starts” and you stick your hand down your throat and puke it all back up. This I have not done, but apparently it isn’t so bad because what is released isn’t acidic like what we’ve all experienced every other time we puke due to sickness.

Ok! Fun huh? Here’s number three Shanka Prakshalana- cleansing of the intestines. So, basically what’s going on is every day we all poop, defecate, shi*t, whatever you want to call it, and when everything is moving through our system it leaves a smear, “like peanut butter” according to the Yogi, along the intestinal walls. This, intern, creates what is called the mucoid plaque which slows down nutrient absorption and excretion, destroys useful bacteria and basically creates a toxic bowel (in turn creating toxic blood/lymph, etc making a breading ground for disease). How, oh how can we fix this? Through pure misery for a half day or so, that’s how! Pick a day where you don’t have to do anything or go anywhere and plant yourself in your bedroom, living room, wherever and close to a toilet with 5-7 liters of luke warm water and one tablespoon of salt to mix into each liter. Sit yourself down and drink two glasses of them and do a few sets of some specific exercises that get the salt water down into the intestines. After about 6 glasses the “release” starts. Keep repeating the process until what comes out looks like the color of what you put in. There’s a healthy colon, kids!

Other than learning how to destroy myself in order to remain in a purified state, I’ve been living a relatively mellow lifestyle; it’s nice to be in a routine that’s good for the mind, body and soul! I did take a trip to a homeopathic doctor in order to try and clear up my skin purification process. I’ve never been to a homeopath before, it’s interesting, they don’t just care about your symptoms, they want to know about your eating and bowel habits, dreams, if you’re tidy or not; the medication is for you specifically, not only your symptoms but who you are as a person. I have two small bottles with tiny round white pills that I’m supposed to take, without touching, twice a day—they taste like candy, but it’s working!

Also, I went to see Maharaji the 85 year old enlightened man in the neighboring village. At nine in the morning they open the door to his room in the Saacha Daam Ashram and people file in to kneel and bow in his presence in order to absorb his energy. You sit in silence outside for a little while before you go in and while I was in there he never said a word but held eye contact with me the entire time. My heart was beating out of my chest and, while walking out tears started streaming down my face. I sat in silence for a while after, as well, until I could stop crying. I can’t really explain what happened, but it felt really good to let go. Something must have sparked inside of me to let go of old emotions because, while reading The Time Traveler’s Wife, a sad part came up and I sat crying over my book for an hour. I mean, it was a sad book, but not to the point of convulsing in tears for an hour. Maybe there really is something to this yoga/meditation/purification stuff; I know there are a lot of old pent up emotions inside of me that I have never really let go of and I feel like now I can and I have (or at least, some of it).

Sadly, my time in Rishikesh is quickly coming to an end. Tomorrow, I leave to go back into the hectic world of bustling India to see the Taj Mahal!

AWKWARD MOMENT:

You may or may not have noticed that I stopped doing the awkward moment; this is because every day and most of every post is awkward so I didn't feel like being redundant. However, here's a little ditty. Yesterday a group of three teenage boys walked by me and one put his hand out and touched my arm. I turned around and yelled at him, like a dog, per usual.

Hey! Don't touch! Do you understand me? You never touch women, you got it??? NEVER TOUCH ME!

His friend kept apologizing while the offender walked away. I created a little bit of a scene; there were two Indian men and one woman walking behind me, obviously tourisits in the area. The woman stopped and turned and shyly yelled "asshole." Hah. It was so cute; she obviously wasn't used to speaking her mind in public. I was so appreciative that someone else, for once, noticed my mild distress. However, when I turned around and saw everyone staring it was definitely a bit....

Amritsar: Holy City of Contradiction

2009-04-05T00:53:00.000-07:00

I met two Indian guys on the train who were visiting the Golden Temple for the weekend and offered to help me find my way. I was told that the temple offered accommodation for free, including food with a donation, so I wanted to stay there. It was difficult to figure out where, exactly, to go because there are so many Indian families crowding the area in order to worship in the area. If there aren’t any rooms left, men, women, and children sleep anywhere they can find; this includes on the balconies, in the common space near the bathrooms, and along the walkways surrounding the Golden Temple lake We, or I should actually say the guys, spent at least a half hour arguing back and forth with a few different receptionists until they finally got me into the foreigner dorm room. Everything is such a labored process here!

I finally got to take a shower and relax; I cleaned my laundry in a real washing machine (for free), updated my blog, and went for dinner. Hundreds of people file into a big room after being handed a metal bowl, plate, and spoon then sit in rows on the floor. Men quickly walk up and down the rows with buckets, ladling out rice, curry, dahl or handing out chapattis and also pouring water into the bowl for drinking. I was the only Westerner in there and anyone who noticed me (which was practically everyone) pointed and stared while tapping their friends to do the same. I wonder what they say to each other. Oh, look, a white girl. It’s like I’m a zoo animal or a rare species of bird. I sat down between a younger girl and an old woman who silently showed me the ropes and flagged down the men if I looked like I might need a refill. The younger girl even took all of my empty dishes☺ When I left the building, ecstatic women in colorful saris grabbed me and had me take photos with them; I felt a clash of emotions between pride and embarrassment.

The next morning, however, was a different story. I went for breakfast at prime time eating hours, 7:30 am (they actually serve food in 20 minute waves over 24 hours). There were so many people pushing and crowding in order to grab the few dishes remaining and race into the dining hall. Within the twenty feet from the steps to the hall, I was groped at least four times by a group of boys behind me. I turned around twice and screamed at them. I couldn’t move away or try and hit them because there was literally no room to move. I finally got away once I was through the dining hall doors and sat down against the wall and cried (just a little). We are within the walls of a very famous and sacred temple--no shoes are allowed and everyone’s head must be covered. They are providing an amazing service by feeding tens of thousands for free and yet these young men think it’s acceptable and worse yet, funny to grope a Western woman. Traveling in India alone is so difficult (it’s significantly more bearable when I’m with someone else, even if it’s another woman), harder that I could have imagined. Coming from a first world country, I’m used to living where there are rules and regulations, a sense of safety and security that I have somewhere to run to if there’s a problem—it’s not like that here. There are no rules and not always someone to help. This was the first time in my travels, or ever for that matter, that I felt like if I were to get into some sort of trouble, that no one would help. I wonder if there can be change for the poverty, pollution and abuse; the issues are so rampant and ingrained, who will bring about a transformation here? Who can start the process of stopping the corruption?

The next day, I hid either in my room, reading, or on the Internet passing the time and unwinding from the stress of Amritsar, a city that never ceases to slow down (and not in a good way). I met an older couple from the UK staying in my dorm that was going to see the boarder closing later in the afternoon. We took a taxi with four others to the Pakistan/India boarder, which was about an hour away (solely due to traffic). I shared the front seat with a German man and, after the driver waved me to get in, I asked the other guy if he could sit in the middle, instead, because I didn’t want to be next to the male driver. Good thing, because the guy had to straddle the stick shift; the driver’s hand was in the guy’s crotch the whole time! Awkward. We got to the boarder and were dropped off in the middle of mass chaos. Thousands of people go to see this event every day. We all walked right up to the boarder where there is stadium seating on both sides of the Indian/Pakistan gate, along the road which crosses the boarder. Guards are wearing a tan button up shirt and pants that are buttoned at their rib cage. They have a thick, red striped belt, as well as a black hat with a red fan down the length of their head. Their pants are wide and too short, but have another piece of white fabric stretching to the ground, like official high waters. I don’t know how, but these men kept everyone sitting throughout the ceremony--it was an amazing display of order. Both sides have their own music and chants which gives it a feel of being at a sporting event. Then, they do a procession where one man yells into a microphone; it sounds like when you’re watching a soccer match and someone scores, “Gooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll!!!” Then, one of the officers runs at the gate, though it looks more like straight-legged power walking, and then they do a series of kicks at each other and shake hands. At the end, they lower the flags at a criss-cross and run back. It was definitely an interesting display, but it was really moving to see how many hundreds of people come together(and this is every night) to watch these two countries working together peacefully (especially with the stigma of Pakistan).

I hung around for two more days, the final night I actually sucked up my tension and stood in line to go through the Golden temple. A massive line awaits entering the temple holding food, flowers, money, and other offerings to be thrown into a central gated space where men are sitting on the floor chanting and playing instruments (drums, chimes, and bells). People are sitting around the outside of the temple watching the procession or bowing in prayer. After you give an offering, you walk out the other side of the temple and drink a handful of the holy lake that surrounds the temple where Koi fish are swimming and people bathe in at all times of the day and night. Yep, drank it; maybe I’ve been blessed now? After exiting the main temple, everyone touches the floor and the sides of the entryway and wipes their heads and hearts; I had no clue what was happening but followed suit to be respectful. After finishing the walkway back, everyone is handed a ball of brown mush to consume; it was mildly sweet, thought I had no clue what it was. I went straight to bed, after, because it was going to be an early move to the next city!

Sleeper Train from Hell- Part Deux

2009-03-22T01:05:00.000-07:00

I thought my first experience with the train was bad…HAH! I left Jaisalmer (after arguing with the owner about owing me money from the camel trek and lying about amenities, never stay in Hotel Henna!!!) on a seven hour bus ride, bringing me to Bikiner at nine PM. We arrive in the middle of a crazy sand storm; a rickshaw driver brought me to the train station to help me find a ticket to Amritsar in order to see the Golden Temple, as well as hang out on the boarder of Pakistan. The train doesn’t leave until 2:30am, um, ok, at least there’s a ladies waiting room. Oh, but wait, there aren’t any tickets left; that might be a problem. The driver and another man that owns a local guesthouse helped me out. We go to the main ticket office where the guest house guy (GHG from now on) can pull some strings because “anything is possible in India.” After maybe a half hour, they decide that there is a sleeper seat I can have—ok! First, though, I can only buy a general seat ticket (which is always oversold and is one coach where people just pack themselves in like sardines, no seat assignement or even enough available) and then I’ll pay the difference later. I thank Mr. Body (the ticket man) and shake his hand; he pulls me in for a hug and give me a kiss on the cheek—ok, so this is kinda like what the French do then, right? He even has a little office in the room for me to rest in until the train comes, with a blanket and pillow—how nice? I go with the rickshaw driver to get my bag and he tells me to be careful because they are all drunk—oh, ok, things are coming together. I don’t know if both Mr Body and GHG suddenly were more intoxicated, or if I was finally keen to the game, but their speech was so slurred it was difficult to understand. I take a seat in my office with my book and GHG sits next to me, not saying anything, just staring. Then he grabs my calf and tells me I have nice muscles—um thanks, I run a lot…back to book.
I tell him that I'm tired and go to shake his hand and he tries to get me to kiss him. No, um, I’m married I say as I hold up the ring on my left hand, thanks for your help though.

What? Why not? I’m just here wasting my time.
Hey! I never asked you to do this!

He finally leaves. Then, Mr. Body comes in . His English is barely comprehensible and the intoxicated slurring doesn’t help. He kept asking for my name and contact number—silly me, I think this is for the ticket. I write my name but say I don’t have a number, I had to do this maybe seven times until he gave up.

Ok, I’m going to sleep, thanks.

He stares and points to his lips.

NO! Um, I’m married.

Then he keeps doing the Indian head bobble and hand action. Ok, so, in India, they don’t shake their heads up and down to signify "yes," nor do they understand left to right is "no," no mater their answer, they do this left to right arching motion, similar to an “I don’t know” and the hand does this over turning flip flop along with a little shake—these motions could not be more indecisive if they tried. What? What does this mean? I don’t understand. Um, whatever, goodnight. He goes to shake my hand; I’m a damn sucker for that because I feel the need to try and be polite (plus, I still don’t have my ticket so I have to play nicey). He tries to pull me in—NO! Let go! I ripped my hand away just as he tried to do the ole palm finger prick I love so dearly—gross. I lock the door at the same time as he locks me in from the outside. Uh oh, this could be a problem. I decide I have a while before I need to get desperate and break some windows, so I just laid down and did a little mobile texting to calm myself.

After an hour, I hear Mr. Body start yelling, Madam! Over and over, so I go out and he tells me to bring my luggage.

Why aren’t you sleeping?
Um, I was? I lied (how about, you yelled for me to come out here? Genius, pure genius)
I give you blankets and you don’t sleep.
I was, I...Sure, ok.

The he starts to tell me there aren’t any tickets. What? we JUST went through this. I start getting angry after twenty minutes telling him I can’t understand him. His English sucks, so I start talking back to him

No, you’re a liar, maybe you shouldn’t be drunk on the job. I think that you just wont give me a ticket because you tried to make out with me because you thought I was an easy Western woman and I wouldn’t.

Liar

I took my ticket and left. Two other men came after me, speaking perfect English and told me where my seat was. Mr. Body came out again, trying one more time and grabbing my hand and going in for the kill, yet shot down, bang bang, again. ICKKKKKK. The other guy was so sweet; he got all the men out of the women’s waiting room so I could be comfortable, made sure I was awake for the train and got my seat, which was actually the on-board ticket officer’s seat; he was willing to let me sleep there, aw. I was on that train until two pm. I had one more to go to Amristar and FINALLY successful arrival at 5 pm!!!

Dunes of Hazard

2009-03-22T00:53:00.000-07:00

India’s sleeper buses are different than I’ve ever seen; usually you just get a wider cushion and more space to recline, but here they have seats as well as beds above the seats. My reservation was one of these beds, just enough space for me to lie down stretched out on my back alongside windows; kinda like a coffin but with a good view, a bit nerve racking when the bus takes tight corners, which is often. In the morning, after arriving in Jaisalmer "The Golden City," I signed up for a desert camel trek for two days and one night through my guesthouse and then wondered around the small desert town for the day. There is a big sone golden fort on a hill that is the main draw; there are a few Jain temples and havelis (decorative houses for important people, basically) but the majority of the complex is sadly overrun with shops, guesthouses, and restaurants. I was hit by an intense cold on the bus, so my energy level was pretty low; I headed in early to rest for the next days trek.

I was in a group with four Canadians; Christi and Dave (a couple) and Joanne and Brett. We all got along very well. First, a jeep drove us to a few villages, which was odd because all the kids kept yelling for rupees; not so much of a cultural experience but more of an aggressive, uneccessary coin drive.. After that, we each got our own camel, mine was the leader, Papu,. At first, it’s not too bad, like riding a horse, but it lies down for you to mount it. We had lunch cooked for us over a campfire in the middle of the desert under some trees. I should add here that most of this desert consists of small bushes and tress, dirt and sand, not so much the rolling dunes that you’d see in pictures. We rode a few more hours after a lunch of chapatti, curry and chai to get to some real sand dunes where we would be sleeping. The view of the stars was stunning; we slept on blankets right in the sand where we should see constellations down to the horizon; you forget just how many stars there are when you live in a city or rather anywhere with any type of light pollution. It was hard to get on the camels the next day first, because the dunes were so peaceful yet entertaining and also because my thighs and bum were incredibaly sore. We rode a couple of hours in the scorching dry heat and then sat under some trees, napping and playing cards along with sing-a-longs until the jeep came to bring us back to our rooms. I wandered around the city seeing market stalls, the fort’s Jain temples, and basically getting lost in the city streets for the next day and a half, then off to Amritsar.

Pushkar, Push cow

2009-03-22T00:44:00.000-07:00

We left the day after Holi for Pushkar, which has a very important lake for Indian culture (the Pushkar Lake) and supposedly the only Brahama temple (this is the only place where he is worshiped, though is part of the Holi Trinity in the Hindu religion) as well as a market; that’s about it. The town is very small and windy. The first night, we decided to try Bhang lassis; Pushkar is a no meat, no alcohol zone, so everyone has “special” food and drink items on their menus. This was and awful idea. Sam and Jay are potheads, so they loved it; I, on the other hand, like to stay in control and when I could hardly move because I was so, um, effected, well, I wasn’t pleased. This body high takes forever to go away, as well. Boo. I hate drugs. Just because it is legal and accepted in a city or country doesn’t mean I should try it; I think I’ve finally learned this lesson. The next day I was a mess because I ate something that disagreed with my tummy and so I hung out in the room all day (thank God for a TV w/ English channels in our room!). Finally, day three, I got to see the lake, temple, and market. Nothing was too awe inspiring, to say the least. There were masses of flies in the temple surrounding the offerings of flowers and sugary beads (sugar, attracting FLIES...who knew?) and the lake is at a very low level due to maintenance.

I met a girl from the UK, Becky, who I was chatting to in the market when a cow (they roam everywhere) sauntered over behind me and rammed into my bum, nearly knocking me to the ground! Everyone stared, per usual; what happened to them being holy, docile creatures? We decided to rent bikes the next morning to try and go to the Shiva temples. When we left, some kids surrounded us and splattered her in paint yelling “Happy Holi!” We thought they were being brats because Holi had passed; apparently not. We were almost to the temples when a moped with two tourists drove by, hot pink from head to toe and yelled good luck to us. We looked past to see a bunch of kids running towards us; we turned around and ran out of there. The ride was beautiful and peaceful, except when bratty kids grabbed our bikes yelling at us for rupees and their vicious dogs chased us; it didn’t help that we may have had the worst bikes on the planet. That night it was time to say goodbye to the little windy town and head to Jaisalmer to play in the desert!

Holi Moley

2009-03-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

I left Goa to make moves to Jaipur for Holi! I took an overnight train 12 hours to Mumbai where I had a much better experience than the first time. I talked to a Japanese girl for a while while waiting for the train and I met an Indian family that was sitting near me. The father gave me his e mail address incase I had any questions and if I made it up to Kashmir, I could stay with his family. He also helped me catch a cab to the other train station. One man was trying to charge me 350 rupees but Javid got a cop involved and I only had to pay 160 (this is a little over 3 dollars). I had to wait for another six hours in a small dirty station. There was one eatery, so I sat there to read my book, Shantaram (every tourist in India either had or has this book, a good solid 1000 page read). I ordered food, just plain rice, and it came out with a bunch of sauces; I said that wasn’t what I ordered and then man KNEW it, because he repeated my order back to me twice and most people speak usable English. I sent the sauces back and at the end he kept making up prices that I owed. I pointed to the sign and he was like no you ate this…blah. I kept arguing and basically made a scene in front of the full restaurant. I just got up and left- guh. It’s not about the money! It’s maybe 30 cents, it’s the principle; I don’t care where I am, I don’t care if “that’s India,” that’s not how people should treat one another, by stabbing them in the back to make a few cents—karma, buddy, karma.

My next train was to Jaipur—18 hours in an air-conditioned sleeper train. It was nice and clean (respectively) and only twenty rupees for sheets, a blanket, and a pillow—nice! I got to Jaipur at seven am where a rickshaw driver brought me to a guesthouse called Evergreen. I met a guy from the UK, Sam, in the lobby and we decided to share the room since all the rooms were doubles, therefore paying three dollars instead of six. I think the guest house owner thought i was a whore when I told him we were sharing because he suddenly got very excited and started hugging me and putting his arm around my shoulder; hands off, buddy.

We ended up sight seeing all day, getting a rickshaw driver, Ikbad, to drive us around for hours for only five dollars (his price, not ours). We saw an observatory with massive, beautiful structures that measure the sun; we went up to the top of a tower for a view of the city and then to Hawa Mahal which is like a palace, beautiful structure, pink and stucco, stained glass, and small windy staircases that lead to a stunning view of the crowded city. We then met up with his friend, Jeremy from Canada, who shared the room, as well. We all went out to dinner nearby and ended up chatting with an Indian man named Sam. When we were leaving I asked if he knew of anywhere good to run and he said there was a nice park nearby and that he would pick me up. At 7:30 he arrived on his motorcycle and we went to Central Park; it has about a four-kilometer circumference filled with lush grass and colorful flowers. We walked for a bit and then he brought me to a local chai shop—a little stand on the side of the street with a few plastic chairs. After, he showed me this amazing lassi shop by his work where they serve the sweet curd in clay pots.

Earlier, he had told me he was an energy healer. This is where I’m not sure if I had a really interesting experience or if I’m incredibly naive. I sat down in a chair and he worked on my energy by pressing into my head and the upper part of my chest. At first, I was open to the experience—I understood what was going on, or at least pretended that I did, but started to get uncomfortable as he “moved energy through my heart chakra” because apparently my mind and head are very open but my heart chakra is blocked. At the beginning, he did say to not think of myself as a tourist or a woman but just as a person and energy, but still, he was basically coping a little feel and I wasn’t ready or willing for that. Finally, I stopped him just when I realized there was no way I was going to relax into the experience (or I wised up, pick your battle) and told him I was uncomfortable. He was very kind and said I needed to relax and think about the experience, he didn’t press to continue, just gave me a hug and brought me back to the hostel. I took a shower and cried. What does a blocked heart chakra mean? I didn’t like the sound of that, so I looked it up; basically, someone who has a bad experience with love and now has a warped sense of it, they may be controlling in relationships and get into them for the wrong reasons such as control and manipulation…what? Maybe I read a bad definition, but if this is the case I’m sorry but that is NOT me. Maybe I’ve had my heart broken, who hasn’t? Sure there are scars but that hasn’t caused me to treat others maliciously. Maybe Im not fully understanding what a blockage means (so if anyone else does, please help me clarify) or maybe he was full of bull? Who knows. I’m planning on going to a known healer in the city of Rishakesh to see what he or she says. I’ll pay to be professionally felt up, thank you very much.

That afternoon Sam, Jeremy, and I went to the Elephant festival; turns out this is basically a show for tourists so all the white people in town flock to the same open stadium to see a parade of decorated elephants, camels, and bands. The elephants are painted, truck to toe, with bright colors with scenes of tigers, dancers, birds and gods. The female elephants wear bells around their feet and each has someone dressed as a Maharaja riding on a silk saddle. Dancing women with long dresses twirled to make a sea of swirling colors and reflecting mirrors, dancing to the sounds of what looked like a marching band from the fifty’s. We ran around taking photos for a while and then took off to the “Monkey Temple.” This is a hill with a road/path leading up to the Sun Temple; the area is overrun with monkeys running and eating. It had a beautiful view of the sunset overlooking Jaipur.

The next day was what I had been waiting for, Holi. I was so excited; apparently, it was going to be a color festival where everyone throws powders of every bright hue on eachother celebrating the end of Winter—not as fun as imagined. Sam and I got in a rickshaw to see the fun. The city was incredibly eerie; all the shops were closed and few people were on the streets, an odd sight when you’re usually pushed and stepped on continuously. On our way out, a few older Indian men stopped to warn us that this wasn’t a good day for women to be out and that we should stay in the hotel. So, since I’m such a stubborn mule, we went out. We told the driver to bring us to see Holi but he didn’t know of an exact location. We had him bring us to the market area, but apparently there really is no center for festivities because it was has turned into a day for young boys and men to get drunk and cause trouble, getting into fights, covering eachother in paint, and harassing women. I had a reach around bum grab later that day and was less than impressive. I grabbed the man’s hand and yelled at him but he just laughed at me; it was so frustrating and disempowering to have no effect.

Holi moley, that was a bust ☹ We watched movies the rest of the day and lounged by the pool.

Slum Dog Square Pants

2009-03-18T23:37:00.000-07:00

I spent a lot of my time Goa working for Yoga Magic, either helping with the party, working on my green thumb in the garden, looking thoroughly confused at the front desk but mostly shooting footage for the real reason why I was there--to make a video for their website. Unfortunately, the day I left Thailand, my computer decided to stop working so I had to take it into the Apple Dr, only to receive prognosis of my baby's untimely death :(. The post-production of the video was put on hold and, after breifly mourning my loss, I went out into the real world, away from the infinity pool and buffet meals I had had a few stressful days, a lot of which would be inappropriate for me to go into, but other small mishaps, besides my computer, include my camera randomly dying (I purchased this camera in Japan right after Christmas, hardly two months earlier), and an email stating that I owe $4100 dollars for the Kenya marathon. I had a minor melt down when I saw this, however, I realized that they have some sort of mix up because I know I only owe about 200, not including what I need to fundraise (everyone can help me out with that soon, details to follow☺ ). I stressed out about all of this for a little bit and then let it go (my new mantra); festering in the anger and stress isn’t going to make the problems go away. I removed myself from Yoga Magic and my privileged White girl problems and took my moped for a little ride to Mapusa to the Mango House. This is part of the project “Children Walking Tall” that Lilly told me about in Thailand because she had lived and worked there for a few months as a full time volunteer. This program started a few years ago in order to help children in the slums receive an education. The Mango House is somewhat like a day care center. The kids come in the morning from the nearby slums, or are picked up, and they get changed and go to school until the afternoon; then, they come back and have activities, free time, more class, and snacks. The foundation has 50 kids enrolled (their maximum capacity for now). Each child receives a pair of shoes and three sets of clothes to wear. There is a play area in the front yard with swings, tree forts, and soccer nets. The kids are anywhere between 3 and 15 years old. These children are so happy! The other part of the program is to help out in the slums by handing out fruit, shoes, and multivitamins, amongst other things when they are available, as well as teaching English to the children that cannot go into the program for one reason or another—maybe the program is at capacity or the parents would rather their children be working than learning. A lot of the parents actually have to be bribed into letting their children go into the program; many get a ration of rice per week to feed themselves as well as their families.

The first day I went, I just looked around the house and they told me how everything works. I came back the next day and went with them to the slums to hand out fruit and multivitamins to the children. On the way, Rob, one of the founders, told me to look to the left;

You see that field over there? (There is an abandoned dirt square, sparsely covered with grass and puddles, trash everywhere and surrounded on three sides with low, crumbling brick walls) That left corner is where one of the girls lives.

That’s it. We keep driving through narrow windy roads, over puddles of who knows what (rarely is there rain unless it’s monsoon season which is a few months away, yet) and alongside piles of trash and communities consisting of corrugated iron, pieces of cardboard and signage until we get to Crossroads, the name of one of the slums they help. When we arrived there was a line of kids waiting for us; they know that around five in the afternoon these volunteers will come to hand out bananas, oranges, and or multivitamins. Maybe shoes? Maybe toothbrushes? Whatever is available. We handed out the food until it was gone and then said goodbye, leaving some without their piece of fruit because they were too late. I went back a few more times in order to help teach English to the kids with a few other volunteers. They go into an open spot inside the slum and lay down mats for everyone to sit on—maybe 15-20 kids. We used books, games, and flashcards to teach basic letters and numbers. Everyday I left, I was in tears. Half of these kids whether aren’t full clothes or their rags are in awful condition. This is not to say that everyone looks like this, but they are obviously wearing whatever they can get their hands on and don’t have a closet to chose the best outfit for the day. When I walked in the first day, they were skinning a goad in the middle of the walkway while two little girls were rolling around and playing on their “bed” out in the open, not five feet away. Clothes were hung to dry all through the alleys between the corrugated iron boxes where they live. The stories I heard about just a handful of the kids are heartbreaking. One girl, who is now 12, was pulled out of the program a year ago because her mother was marrying her off so she wouldn’t have to take care of her anymore (making her a wife at age 11). A few months ago Rob got a phone call from the girls mother saying that the girl’s husband was beating the girl in the village; they went in, with the police, and got the girl back while also reenrolling her into the CWT program. Another girls dress caught on fire while she was cooking and burned about 70% of per body. She was left to die on the floor. CWT got a hold of her and she’s now fully recovered (thought her body is scarred significantly) and she is going to school. Many of these children have some sort of traumatizing story; burns, abuse, alcoholic families. It’s unbelievable. When we were teaching, one little boy was doing very well with his letters; one of the girls asked how old he was and he shrugged his shoulders—he had no idea. Another boy said that the other was probably four or five. I found this absolutely heartbreaking—he had no clue. At the same time, I immediately wondered why such a minute detail made me so upset. I was talking to Liz, a very sweet woman that was staying at Yoga magic and is a yoga teacher (she played the roll of mommy for me when I needed it), and she found it interesting that I was so upset; we put such an emphasis on age because it’s a means of categorizing people. At age five you should be starting to read, at 16 driving a car, 21 graduating college and getting a job, this is the age you drink, and that is the age you fight for your country, etc. It breaks up our lives and gives goals; I never really concentrated on how concerned we are about age, the emphasis and importance it plays in each and every one of our achievements—and there it was, staring me in the face.

I also spent a week helping Fareda, one of the Indian staff members, learn to read. Her speaking English is pretty good, not quite correct, but she understands and can get her thoughts and feelings to be understood. She’s 24 years old, the face of Yoga Magic, she’s extremely happy and personable, everyone loves her. She’s been married 11 years and has four children. The oldest of which is 10—she had her first child at 14 and was married at 13 (here I go, concentrating on age, but it needs to be done sometimes). She is happy and in love, it’s not a sob story, but it’s obviously that she wants more, that she’s being forced to grow up but is still young in her heart and mind. She tells me she wants to travel and is working on getting her passport and papers in order (without the kids and Husband, haha). She dreams of seeing more, but not too much, because she says that “Indian women don’t have time for dreams. They only think about their earnings, otherwise, trouble.” She lives in a room with the rest of her family, that’s it, that’s their home. I went to her place for her son’s second birthday party. Her whole family was there to celebrate. Like all second birthday parties, it’s more a celebration for the parents than the kid. Their family and friends gathered to eat an Indian buffet of rice, dahls, curries, breads, and fruit (and obviously, CAKE). After, it was time to dance. I had to run away because fareda’s cousins thought I was a good dancer…what? For those of you who have seen me on the dance floor, you know that it’s a whole lot of hips and bum and not a lot of finesse, to say the least (watch Bry Riggs if you want to see smooth☺ ).

It was so hard to say goodbye to all of these happy, beautiful people. But, such is the downside of traveling, you make meaningful relationships and then have to say goodbye.

Sounds That I Sleep To

2009-03-18T23:30:00.000-07:00

In my bamboo and grass hut in the middle of the rice fields in Goa, India I hear...

Wind rustling
Water buffalo and cows mooing
dogs barking
dogs howling in packs (out of tune)
dogs chasing each other around my hut
dogs wrestling under my bed
dogs hitting their legs and heads under my bum
Hindi chanting through loud speakers
distant trance base
Konkane shouting
rumbling moped motors
crows wings flapping
parrots squawking
Christian church bells

Good night, Moon.

Where are you Goan?

2009-02-25T19:53:00.000-08:00

My train arrived in Goa on the 9th of February at about 10am. It was hot and so many people were crowding the platform. I squeezed my way through the gate along with everyone else to find Suddah, the Yoga Magic driver, waiting for me, holding a sign w/ my name on it...baller! The resort is absolutely gorgeous, a complete 180 degree turn from where I had been staying. This is a yoga eco resort in the little of Anjuna in the state of Goa (I originally thought it was a town, silly rabbit). My room is a bamboo and grass hut in the middle of the rice paddy fields. My door closes, sometimes, and my windows are hope spaces in the sides of the hut. I sleep on a mattress on the floor withe clean sheets and a pretty red blanket, think, with golden stitched elephants. The resort is all outside, guests sleep in Rajastani tents and flowers and gardens swirl through out the premises. The walkways are composed of dung/grass/and wager and spread evenly to look like, and solidify similar to cement. An infinity pool rests to the side of the restaurant, overlooking the fields with crows, roaming cows, dogs, cats, parrots, and water buffalo. This is also an amazing place to watch the sunrise which comes up as a magnificent color of orange I have never seen in the States. There is a restaurant/eating area with tables and matts on the floor with orange bolsters and low tables so you can eat on the floor at with your hands (the RIGHT hand, I cannot stress that enough). When I arrived it was breakfast time which has a cold and hot component. Always, there is a buffet of chopped fruits (Banana, pineapple, chikoo, pomegranate, papaya, watermelon, and shaved coconut) as well as curd (buffalo curd), muesli and honey. Hot might be dal, french toast, eggs, whatever. MMM I can also get lassis (basically a yogurt smoothie) and chai/tea/coffee and toast.

Being that I am a volunteer, I get accommodation, food and yoga for free! I have class in the morning from 8-9:30 with Peter who is from the UK (Goa is a very touristy area, like, painfully touristy and westernized). I am sore in places that I've never felt before, or at least, in a long time; my upper abdominal, the inside of my thighs and the backs of my shoulders, it's amazing! I can even touch my toes now, which I don't think I've ever been able to do.

The second night Krishna, a local energy cleaner, came and had a workshop in the outdoor yoga space. He works by cleaning out the energy remaining from past diseases/ailments/drug use, whatever. I did not understand this at that time and at the end Tania, another guest that I've gotten close to (mother of two and originally from Sri Lanka bun living in the UK) asked me how I liked it and if I felt anything. I started to try and say that I was frustrated because I had no idea what was going on and immediately got very upset; my eyes welled up with tears and my voice started wavering. I had no idea I was THAT upset! The more we discussed it, it was more that maybe that is an energy blockage that I'm trying to work through within myself and that's how my body was expressing it, however, after the workshop was when I opened up to the experience rather than during it.

I've been trying to become more aware of my body and mind-the thoughts that arise, feelings, sensations, emotions, whatever. I know that a lot of people would listen to these things and think it's a scam and crazy talk, but I'm really finding it interesting and some sort of connection. Th main stream public doesn't think twice about instinct and intuition, right? That gut feeling you have about person, place, situation, etc. I think this cleansing, healing, kandalini, seeing energies and oras, it's just another level of that intuition, ya? There are a couple people here that are very in touch with themselves spiritually, Eva from Germany and Tania's sister, Fiona. When I talk to them, even now writing, I get this stranger feeling on the top part of my head, like when your hairs stand up on your arms, and it travels down my jaw and half way down my spine-I don't know what this means, if anything, but I'd like to explore it more.

I hung out by/in the pool most of the day and had a meeting with Phil and Juliet, the owners, as well as Katie and Steve, two other volunteers. Katie is from LA but went to school is Welesley in Boston and is my age; Steve is a photographer in his 30's from the UK. Basically, the plan for the next few days was to get the place ready for a big party they were having on the 14th (Valentine's day). A Love Party, not for couples, but a celebration for ourselves and the world. This is actually a very auspicious cosmic day, the dawning of the age of Aquarious (seriously) where certain planets were aligned. The next few days consisted of a lot of cleaning, making bamboo frames, signs for the party and going to the market in Mapusa (a nearby Goan town) for supplies. I went with Fareda, one of the Indian workers, because she is good with bargaining. We found out early on that I had to walk away and pretend like I didn't know her so she could get the real price and not the tourist price; shows how much I get screwed daily!

The party, itself, was interesting. Everyone had to dress in white, no cameras,, shoes, or alcohol allowed. It started with a Mayan chant around the fire praying to the seven directions (North, West, East, South, Gods above, Nations below, and ourselves) and then there was dancing in the restaurant area Rave style with a pumped beat and bodies flaily in the motion that they were inspired, not the bump 'n grind that I'm used to seeing, just everyone letting go. At ten we all sat on the floor in rows and had dinner doled out to us India style; we each had a plate and the workers came around with buckets and scooped out rice, dal, beetroot salad, poppadoms and green beans, which we then ate with our hands and licked our fingers (everything Westerners are taught not to do).

Afterwards, a guitarist played who was absolutely genius and a woman showed a movie she made about fire along with an interpretive dance. By this point,, everyone was exhausted, covered in gold glitter, and on their way home. I was so tired because I was nonstop all day-two hour morning run, worked until the party started at five and then mingled from there.

Since then everything has been a lot more relaxed. Working here and there in the garden, working more on updating my blog and updating pictures and reading. I've also been working on conquering my fear of driving. Katie and I are sharing a moped and I've used it a few times. The roads are tiny and twisting, plus traffic flows on the left so it's been a challenge. The other night Katie and I got lost at about midnight and we were really pretty scared. Two guys stopped and one stood in the middle of the road, undoing his belt and yelling "I want to suck you!" we bolted. I could help but laugh at jumbled up vulgar phrase, though. The next morning we heard that there have been incidences where girls at night have been pulled off of their bikes, good thing we didn't know about that then or really would have freaked out!

Sleeper train from Hell

2009-02-24T01:02:00.000-08:00

The overnight train from Mumbai to Goa....not the most delightful experience I've had on this trip, that's for sure. I took a cab from the Salvation army to the bus station; the driver was sweet and the doorman at the SA gave me a warm send off. However, once I was drowning in the sea of people in the station, everything changed. As soon as I got out of the taxi, three guys were trying to pick up my bag to "help" me to the train. The cab driver had to help me get them away. Afterward, one of the security guards told me that I had to go up the stairs to the number gate I needed. What? That doesn't make sense? Maybe it's a sitting room until the train arrives? Nope. I walked up four flights of stairs with all of my luggage until someone else asked me what I was doing. Turns out, I think the guard was trying to tell me to go behind the stairs, which is where the entrance to the trains is located--miscommunication, how I loathe you. I had to walk maybe two blocks through a dimly lit parking area in order to get to the tracks.

Though the train wasn't to leave for at least an hour and a half, hundreds of people were packed onto the side of the tracks, waiting. When it arrived, I started walking down the train to find my sleeper car. On my way, I probably looked confused because I kept checking my ticket and the sides of the cars to decipher the right one. An Indian guy kept trying to help me carry my bag, again, and I kept saying that I was fine, but he followed me onto the train. At this point, I was the first one on, which I knew could be a potentially bad situation. He sat across from me and just stared. He asked if I was married and I said yes, holding up my left hand where I conveniently wear my mother's ring. Still, he sat there. A beggar boy then sat on the other side of me with his hands out, muttering in Hindi. No matter what I said, neither would go away. I put my book in front of my face and kept saying "Go away, go away, go away, go away," pretty much stomping like a four-year old. Finally, the beggar left and, after a long, uncomfortable silence, the other man did, as well, but only after shaking my hand goodbye. Not a friendly one, though, he gave me the finger palm push--you know, when one finger is poked into your palm and somehow makes you feel violated to the core, yeah, that handshake. I ripped my hand away and yelled at him like a dog that just peed on the carpet.

NO! BAD! You don't do that. VERY BAD. NEVER do that!

He ran away from me in a hurry. Watch out for the white girl with a temper! I then crawled up to my "bed" which is a solid mattress just large enough for me and my bag if I lied on my stomach and bent my knees. I stayed there nearly the entire trip because I felt so awkward and too uncomfortable to come down. I saw bugs crawling in and out of the bed around me and all up and down the walls. Maybe they're just over on THAT side of the train, and not in my bed...

The next morning I watched people rustling around, eating samosas and other random food then throwing the trash out the window! Trash is everywhere here, there aren't waste baskets anywhere that I can see, it's odd. I've been carrying wrappers around forever because i don't know where to put them, but it's common practice here to throw it anywhere. I was brave enough in the late morning to try the toilet (or rather, I had to pee so badly that I was forced to get off of my safe haven and walk through the car); whatever comes out of you goes down the toilet and onto the train tracks...I'm not even going to attempt to get out my feelings on that. On my way back all the men were staring at me for obvious reasons (one of these things is not like the other) and being that I was already tense, I reverted back to the US response, " Um, can I help you" - enter attitude and sarcasm here. This, obviously, doesn't work when the person you're talking with doesn't have a high level of English comprehension. More staring. Ugh, never mind. I crawled back to my bed and didn't move. The highlight of this trip was my arrival in Goa. Yoga Magic, the place I was to be volunteering, had a driver waiting for me at the station, my name was on the sign and everything! Phew.

Incredible India

2009-02-23T01:00:00.000-08:00

Next big step! I Arrived in Mumbai, India on February 5th (sorry for the blogging delay, my computer died the day I left Thailand, so this is going to be a bit more difficult, now). The flight was pretty short, I think only 5 hours, if that? On the plane, I was seated next to an older Indian man (probably in his 50's) who told me a lot about places to see and dangers and annoyances of the culture and country. He walked me through immigration and waited with me at baggage claim. He even gave me his number, as well as his wife's, in case I were to get into trouble in India--the kindness of strangers! It was interesting, however, to notice the different between the way he treated me as opposed to the staff of the airplane. Where, with me, he was very polite and informative and curious, he was completely opposite with the polite and accommodating staff. When dinner came, the steward informed the man that there were only vegetarian options left; he immediately got heated, "well that's not MY problem, that's YOUR problem, I don't want a vegetarian option, find me Lamb." It was extremely awkward; when the steward looked at me I said that veg was fine (what's the big deal?). This happened numerous times with drinks and needing ice or soda or what not. I actually noticed this behavior a lot over the next few days in India, well-to-do locals treating those in the service industry like serVANTS...disgusting.

We arrived at 9:30pm and I had no idea where I was going to stay, so at baggage claim I started looking for people that might be backpackers (the tell tale signs are big rucksacks, baseball caps, and the thoroughly confused expression while looking around a room for comprehensible signs). I scouted out two guys that could be helpful; the first was a Canadian who was in India on business so he had no clue and the second was my savior. My only other hope was a blond haired guy who looked like he was in his mid 20's. I asked if he was a backpacker and he immediately knew that I had no idea where to stay. He was really nice and was cool with me sticking around him; we just had to wait three hours for his girlfriend's plane to arrive from Germany. Whatever!

The Mumbai airport was the least stressful experience I'd ever had upon entering a foreign country They have pre-paid taxis, so no one is hassling you to buy anything--it was like a breath of fresh air (though there is none of that to be had in this city). However, there is no inside waiting area. Hundreds of people are outside the exit waiting for friends and loved ones. We took a seat on the curb and chatted about running marathons and traveling until his girlfriend showed up. We got into a taxi, which is an old vehicle that looks like it's out of the 50's and barely starts and he brought us to Colaba--the area with a lot of accommodation and just really the place to be (this is also where The Taj hotel is--where the Mumbai shootings occurred recently). The Salvation Army was full (the Backpacker haven), so he stopped at another guesthouse where another man said there was a free double and single room--yes! We had to walk up four flights of stairs which were SO dirty; I was told that it would be bad here, but I had no idea to the extent. There were dirt piles and bags of who knows what on the windy stairs--cracked cement and graffiti everywhere. When we finally got to the top the man at reception said it was full--what??? Lairs! When we got back down, the taxi was obviously gone so, we made the same guy show us a new place, which, luckily, did have vacancy. My room was a cell. If I stood up and put my arms straight out I could touch either wall. Ok, not bad, whatever. However, the sheets were NOT clean--I slept on my towel due to the discovery of little hairs on my bed-goo, gross. The next morning I ran over to the Salvation Army to get an open bed. It's not clean by any Western standards, but much better than the "Delight Guest House." I was in a dorm room with maybe 20 beds and one bathroom--water and dirt everywhere but at least my sheets looked clean.

I decided to go for a walk and was asked by a stranger, right outside of the hostel, if I wanted to be an extra in a Bollywood film that night--uh, yeah! 500 Rupees (10 bucks) and free dinner; I'm in! To kill time until the meeting at 5 pm I went for a little walk around the area. An older man (Indian and around 50 years old) started walking next to me, asking how I liked his city. I said I didn't really know since I just showed up. He kept walking with me and trying to have a conversation but I was a bit on my guard. He obviously understood how I was feeling because he started saying that he had children and no interest, he just canceled a meeting and wanted someone to talk to. I decided getting some lunch with him wasn't a bad idea, so he brought me to Leopold's cafe which is a very popular spot because it A) has a great location on the main road of Colaba for people watching B) was where the author of "Shantaram" hung out and C) was a scene where the Mumbai terrorist shootings took place. There are still bullet holes in the glass--it's a very sad and eerie feeling when you look over your shoulder and see a hole in the wall. Turns out Sanjay works in the Indian stock market and is quite well off. He paid for my lunch and insisted on giving me a tour of the city--you can call me naive if you want, but I had a good feeling so I figured, why not? He picked me up in his car and brought me through the government area, the floating gardens which are on top of a water reserve tank and has many shrubs sculpted into animals, onto the edge of the Arabian Sea which has large cement structures leading to the water that look like massive jumping jacks and also to see the floating mosque which is surrounded by water when the tide comes in. He got me back just in time to get on my bus to the Bollywood set for the movie "Purple Lake." A group of about fifteen Westerners participated as extras in a club scene. We were dressed in all black--I was put in a heinous spandex number with gold sequins around the bust and a slit in the back up to my bum. I HAVE a hot black dress with me dying to be worn, I could have brought that! Grr. Oh well. They also didn't have shoes to fit my Flintstones Feet so I had to wear my flip flops (ha). All night we sat around with spurts of dancing; I was paired with this extremely hot and yoked up Indian dude, nice to look at but had nothing to say-awkward. The shoot moved incredibly slowly; apparently there really isn't a strict time line in order to get things accomplished. The dancers were learning and practicing the moves between every shot; they never had any rehearsals! That's just crazy to me; but I guess it's their time and money that's being wasted, that would just not fly anywhere else that I know of. Filming wrapped up at around 3:30 am and we were bused back o Colaba. We had to pound on the door to get in because we were not aware that the entrance was locked at midnight--whoops. Flashed those pearly whites and had no problem:)

I passed out for a few hours and then Sanjay picked me up for a bit more sightseeing at a Buddhist temple right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city as well as to a mall to try local foods. I had Pani Buri, which are fried dough cups with a spicy sauce in it and a bunch of other fried doughs with sauces. All of which is eaten with your hands--your RIGHT hand to be precise because the left is your "poo" hand. After which, I told him I was exhausted and really needed to sleep. It took a bit of convincing, but he brought me back so I could rest. At this point I really hadn't slept much in the past four days and was getting a crazy cold; I slept for a total of 17 hours, I knew I was sick and tired but I didn't realize I was that exhausted. When I got up the next morning I wondered around all day and with to a music/art festival called Kala Ghoda. There were a lot of locally made goods being sold; bags, art, journals, etc and a few stages for music , theater, and dance. That evening, I was sitting in the crowd when a female singer, Sabitha, came out on stage and everyone went NUTS! Turns out, she's really famous, like, the Brittney Spears of India. The music was very up beat but is nothing like what you'd hear in the states--high pitches, abrupt vibrato and awkward chords that seem to clash but work. I had to cut the performance short in order to go to my overnight train to Goa, where I would be staying and working, kinda, for the next month.

Going out with a Bang(kok)

2009-02-23T00:29:00.000-08:00

The day after seeing the Angkor Wat temples, I left early in the morning to get back to Bangkok. Luckily, the ride back is significantly easier, faster, cheaper, and less stressful than getting into Cambodia. This time, I stayed right off of Khao San road which is the party/tourist/Cancun-like area of Bangkok. I checked into some random cheap place and took off in order to find Lilly and Katie. It took no time at all to find them; we ate some dinner and went on to a little drinking and the highlight of the evening...a Ping Pong show--nothing like what you've seen on Forrest Gump. These ladies do something a little more interesting with the little white plastic balls. All along Pad Pong (an area with a night market off of Silom Road) there are bars with a few naked girls on stage doing tricks with their lady parts--and it all starts with the famous ping pong ball.

WARNING: I'm going to get mildly graphic here, so children under the age of 18 should probably not read this part:)

A woman sits on stage naked and, ahem, open, and proceeds to shoot ping pong balls at the audience--we're talking long distance here. Like, I was at least 20 feet from her and she almost pegged me in the face. Luckily, thanks to all of my years of competitive athletics, I have quick reflexes, because otherwise I just may have vomited. Other such tricks included, but were not limited to, using chipsticks to pick up rings and place them on the neck of a bottle, pulling out a long string of razor blades (and then cut up a piece of paper to show that they are real), and smoking a CIGAR (brings a whole new meaning to lip cancer ). I'm not quite sure why this is a favorite dirty past time of the Thai, or maybe it was something crazy that they made up because they knew tourists would pounce...either way, I'm happy to say I've been there, but I don't think I'd jump at the chance if it re-presented itself. What a way to finish my time in Thailand.

Cambodian Chaos

2009-02-03T22:14:00.000-08:00

I left the ladies on the 29th of January to try and get to Siem Reap, Cambodia in order to see the Angkor Wat temples. I was on the bus to Vientienne and decided to stay over night. I quickly dropped my bags off in a hostel and ran to the bus station to get my next ticket. Silly, silly me, I forget, in my haste, to grab a business card. Uh oh. On the way back to the hostel (which is MAYBE 6 blocks away) I got painfully lost, in the dark, and couldn't even remember the name of the guest house! After walking around for a while, I ended up crying to the reception desk of some hotel. I knew that if I could find the same map I could find the place...no dice. Somehow, after three people, along with myself, stared at another map for 20 minutes I figured out where I thought the hostel might be. The pointed me in the right direction and I somehow found the place after about two hours. Phew. Highlight to the evening; upon my return I realized my room had air conditioning AND cable...WITH HBO!

The next day I took a series of three buses; starting at 7:30 am, I went from Vientiane to Khon Kaen, then to Kolas, Thailand and finally to Aranya Pratthet. The final bus basically brought me to the Cambodian border and dropped me off on a dark street at 10 pm. Luckily, a bunch of Thais also got off and one spoke enough English to help me find somewhere nearby to sleep; he carried my bag, got my room, and everything. I've found that the locals really are extremely helpful to lost tourists; lucky for me, eh? I got up at 8 am in order to get to the boarded when it opened at nine. This entire day was so shady. I sat in the "Cambodian consulate" to get my visa which was basically a tent over some picnic tables. he didn't rip me off, though, which i was sure was going to happen, and I got through the border so it must've been legit. My options to get to Siem reap were either a bus at 2 pm or a taxi for three dollars more with three strangers that were supposedly waiting. i went with the driver to the Thai departure and then we had to walk across a bridge and through a market to get through the Cambodian arrivals. This took about forty-five minutes. I stupidly paid up front for the taxi--luckily, he was true to his word and was waiting or me outside. Then, I had to get on a bus to the main station and there I waited for about an hour for the three others that were supposedly waiting. i got a little frustrated with the driver, so he stopped playing Mr. Nice guy and put me in a cab with another driver who was leaving "right away" but had to go pick up someone. We went back to the boarder and as soon as the old driver was dropped off the car died. Great. He got it started again and we were off to pick up his sister, after which, we sat at a mechanic for 45 minutes. I thought this was one of those bus scams that i read about in Lonely Plant where they make your trip as long and uncomfortable as possible in order to make you stay in their guesthouse of choice and make some money. However, his sister was getting angry impatient, as well, so turns out these problems were legit. We finally got on our way, but, after a half hour the car started bucking again, so we pulled off and he paid another cab driver to take us. I piled into a cab with two Thai women, a Thai guy, and a monk (sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn't it?) for a two hour ride down the bumpiest dirt road I've ever seen. Bumpy doesn't even begin to describe it--massive dirt mounts is more like it. Drivers here also don't care too much about staying on the correct side of the road or passing when there's no oncoming traffic--its like they're constantly playing chicken. everyone is always honking and no one is phased.

On the way, I talked to the original driver's sister because she had had three years of English in school. She is 25 and went to University in Siem Reap to be an accountant, but now lives in Poipet (the Cambodian Boarder) with her family because her dad won't let her move. She almost started crying when she told me that all she does is cook and clean and go to the market--she doesn't go out or have any friends. She asked me for my e-mail address so she could write me and practice her English--of course! It's hard for me to understand what it would be like to not be able to do what i wanted--if my parents said I couldn't move (which they wouldn't) I'd laugh and keep moving without any problems. I wonder what that says about our culture? The move from family to individualism...

When we finally got to SR, the cab driver tried to drop me off in some random corner of town where about eight Tuk Tuk drivers started yelling at me through the windows to get into their ride. I refused. I yelled at the driver to leave my bag.

I paid you a lot of money! I don't have any more you have to bring me to this hostel! You brought everyone else where they wanted to go; bring me there. I'm not moving.

I sat with my arms crossed while the driver walked around smoking a cigarette. Once he had finally finished, he got back into the cab and drove me to my desired location. The hostel only had one room which was located in the attic; I had to walk through a storage room to get to it and there was no window--sold. I really didn't care at this point.

I only had one full day in Siem Reap in order to see the Angkor Wat Temples. I had met three Irish people the night before that were willing to share their Tuk Tuk guide with me so i wouldn't have to pay 15 dollars on my own. Unfortunately, my alarm didn't go off and I woke up an hour late :(. This turned out to be a blessing disguise because I wouldn't have been able to ride with them anyway, the driver refused, and I decided to rent a bike for two dollars like I originally wanted. I watched the sunrise while biking which was relaxing. I had a bit of trouble getting there, however, damn sense of direction. I was told to go straight...straight turns into a dead end! I go back a few Kilometers and find out I was supposed to turn left at the roundabout. I knew I was supposed to buy a pass before I got to the temples and that it would be "obvious"..not at 7 am, my friends. I got all the way to Angkor Wat and hat to turn around, halfway back the way I came on another road, to get the pass. I started crying, again,, to the security guard and he was trying to cheer me up. How emotional I've been the last few days! Finally, 20 dollars later, I get to the temple and can actually enjoy it. They were absolutely stunning. Massive concrete temples with moats and gates that are over grown with trees and grass and are half crumbled. I first went to Angkor Wat, the main and more famous temple. The entire structure, which looks almost like a castle, is completely symmetrical. I probably spent the most time wondering around the internal buildings and aisles. After, I biked around to a few more temples, Bayon being my favorite, which is covered in stone faces. Pictures, here, are a better description than my words, so make sure you check out my flickr page to see the 117 pictures I took during the day :)

Every time I stopped to lock up my bike, I was surrounded by children trying to see me water, food, bracelets, and books. They are all adorable, intelligent, and incredibly difficult to say no to. However, if you give in, you're going to empty out your wallet. It's hard to be patient after a long day of biking in the sweltering heat and humidity, but you have to remember that they are doing what their families have told them to do in order to make a living.

Who are you calling a Laos?

2009-02-03T21:14:00.000-08:00

I stood outside with another Kelly I met at the start of the race (she took first in the 30-39 age category); we were talking and holding our trophies when a group of Americans that had run the half walked by. One of the guys congratulated us and asked if we rant the half or the 10k. Umm, the full, actually :) He was a little embarassed. They ended up coming back a few minutes later; Bryan kept trying to apologize but we told him it was really no big deal. We got to talking and it turned out that they were all studying in Bangkok but were going to Laos for a few days--me too! Bryan invited me along with them so I figured why not? After quite the ordeal of trying to find them--losing their number, wrong bus and bus station, I finally found them and we left for Vientienne, Laos.

The bus took about four hours and we had a lot of trouble at the boarded because one guy, Erk, didn't realize he had overstayed on his visa for almost two weeks, so he owed 11,000 baht to the Thai government--hah. We ended up being left at the Laos boarder along with all the other tourists and had to take a Tuk Tuk to our hostel, a 20 minute ride. This is one of their fun tricks to make you spend more money. Luckily, there were 14 of us in total so it didn't cost too much--no fun if I had been by myself.

We dropped all of our stuff off at the Selom Yen Guesthouse and took a little night wlaking tour of the city. Bryan has been living in Southeast Asia for a few years and knows, the Thai and Laos languages so he knows a lot of people in the area. We went to his friens place around the corner and his mother ended up feeding us all of this Lao vegetarian food with a lot of rice, vegetables, mushrooms and tofu--DELICIOUS. I was starving at this point from the race so it was perfect. We all tried to go out to a bar with live music but were pretty tired so left after about an hour.This is the first country I haven't seen million of 7-11s, Buger Kings, Mcdonalds or any other American franchise. It was so refreshing to be away from that.

The next day we did a little sight seeing--the morning market (which was pretty similar to any other market I've been to--food, crafts, faux designer duds, etc), Patuxay, and the Golden temple. After lunch. Bryan, Shannon , Wally, and Ii decided to go for a little spa treatment. We went to a sauna that was so hot you could hardly breath inside and afterwards went to geth Thai massages. I was on a mattress on the floor along with Wally, Shannon (a guy) and Nuum. These girls are tiny, but don't let the size fool you, they have no trouble bending and throwing you around. Shannon was laughing the entire time because he is ticklish absolutely everywhere. There is a point when you're lying on your stomach and they have you grab their hands and they stretch you into a backwards arch; Nuum accidentally let go and the girl went flying to the ground! A few minutes later, I get tapped on the shoulder and Wally says something about feeling really awkward. i look to see the girl basically straddling him--kneeling on his upper thighs. everyone was laughing and wally had to roll over for, ahem, male issues...HA!

That night we tried to do some Chinese New Year celebrations, but the city was a bit dead and we wound up at a bowling alley until 12:30 and called it a night. Bryan, Shannon and I got up at 6 am to go for a little job around Patuxay the next morning when the city was peaceful without horns honking and tuk tuk's heckling--perfect. After the run, Jeff, Shanon, Erik and I were all treated to a free traditional Vietnamese meal at Bryan's friend's mom's friend's restaurant (got that?). Noodle soup and pork noodle egg rolls--not spicy like Thai cuisine. The interesting thing about the food here is that you can literally taste every ingredient--here's some pork, there's basil and a hint of lemon-grass--all of it! For the last event of Vientienne, we all went to the shooting range where we all picked a gun and got five bullets for less than two dollars and no paperwork to fill out--this would never fly in the states. My aim isn't too bad, either; I used a rifle and got all 5 bullets in the target!

I left them at two to catch a bus to Vang Vieng to meet up with Lilly and Katie. the bus was small and packed with falangs (tourists)--I seriously thought it was going to roll over on some of the sharp turns. We got there in one piece, luckily, and Lily was waiting for me. We got some food and headed out to Jaidee's bar. This is a very small party town filled with bars, internet cafes, and Friend's restaurants where the tv sitcom Friends is always playing. Basically everyone goes out at night and tubes down through the river bars during the day--not the most cultural of experiences but entertaining to say the least. I ended up sleeping on the floor of Lilly and Katie's room for 10,000 kip a night--that's a little over a dollar. Gotta love Southeast Asia!

Food Corner

Kai Louk--Literally translated this means Egg child--a hard boiled egg with a half developed fetus in it--petrifying to look at but tastes like a hard boiled egg with the essence of Grandma's friend chicken (it's a little crunchy in the yolk due to tiny bones).

Taste: 2
Aftertaste:1

Khon Kaen(ya)

2009-01-29T05:59:00.000-08:00

Lilly and Katie got on the overnight bus with me the following day to get to Khon Kaen, where my marathon was going to be on the 25th of January. We arrived at 7 am and dropped our bags off at a hotel before trying to find where I had to register. They decided they were going to get on a bus to Laos that day, so they went on their way and I checked into a dorm room on campus. When I arrived, no one was in the house, so I wondered around campus for a while and when I returned five Kenyans were sitting around the TV. Turns out, I’m the only American with about 30 Kenyan and Ethiopian professional runners. HA! I went for a training run with two Kenyans, Thomas and Robert and at the end they showed me their real pace. I could do it for about a minute…weak. It’s like a four minute mile!! I was talking to them about Kenya and they were telling me how difficult it is to travel. Not only do they struggle to obtain viasas, but when going through immigration it is common for them to have to pay off the officer to let then in. If they don’t have the money they will be sent back to Kenya for any fake reason the officer can come up with. One of their friends may not make it to the race because he was left at the border and they took off with him bags . I had no idea there was so much corruption like that.

The next day I woke up early because the kenyans tried to get me to go for an early show run with them. I was tempted, but had consumed some very spicy curry the night before so I told them I wanted to sleep....awkward. I took myself for a slow job a little while later and joined everyone for breakfast. Normally, on Carbo-loaing day, I eat everything that I normally don't such as cookies/brownies/pizza, etc, but for the first time I felt self conscious about my eating habits so I stayed a bit healthier. I spent the rest of the day wondering around with Thomas going to the expo for some energy gels, and the agricultural fair on campus. This reminded me of the Minnesota state fair due to the live stock exhibit and food stalls (however, the food was nothing like home...no cookie buckets or unlimited milk spouts). I basically sat around blogging and resting the rest of the day until it was time for dinner. I ate with all of the Kenyans; they made a traditional meal of Moogalli (sp?) where they make a camp fire and boila big pot of water, stirring in Maiz flour until it becomes the consistency between mashed potatoes and bread dough. It doesn't have much flavor, but it was paired with chicken (thought it could be vegetables or really anything) and all is eaten with your hands.

I went to bed at about 8 pm and at two am Margaret flipped on the lights and said it was time to get ready! So EARLY! The bus came at 3 in order to bring us all to the starting area. i met a woman, Cynthia, from California and we chatted for a while. It's funny how all the white English speakers flock right together in foreign counties where they cant speak the language. We chatted about previous travels and races; once deemed a traveler, everyone tends to become comfortable sharing intimate details you would normally only tell your doctor--she shared an unfortunate incident involving her race around Mt. Kilimanjaro involving a shrub, a sponge, and certain bodily functions (I'll leave it at that). On our way to the starting line, I saw a Thai racer dressed up as Spiderman and asked to take his photos; they, he jumped over to Cynthia and me and everyone starting taking pictures of us. HA! I wonder what website those will show up on.

The gun went off at 4:30 and Cynthia and I stayed together for a few K's until I lost her at a water station. It was actually extremely peaceful running the first half of the race. It was pitch black on the roads; there were very few street lamps so I was running by star and mood light. I ididn't even turn my ipod on until halfway when the sun came up.

The course was basically flat. We ran through villages, along the freeway, around lakes and temples and within the city limits. There weren't a whole lot of fans along the way, but the clusters that were there were so motivating--they either had music playing or had a live band. Everyone else was dancing and holding up sights that said "You are the Champion." Thought it was early, there were TONS of excited kids holding out water, fruit, or just their hands for a little high five. even thought this is only their sixth race, it was very organized, many water stations and first aid tents. The finish area had all sorts of food (sor I've been told) and a massage area. I didn't get to partake in any of this because when I crossed the finish line they handed me a badge with a "4" on it and it said to report to an official immediately; everything else was in Thai writing. I wasn't sure what it meant. There is no WAY this means fourth place, right? Finally, I found Jade, a sweet girl working for the race that spoke English well. She found out for me that I needed to go into the stadium. There, I ran into Jacky (my hero for this race, she was SO helpful every step of the way) who told me that I did indeed take 4th place in my age category. Haha...what??? Ii ended up going on stage to receive a trophy and then getting an envelope with 4500 Baht (130 US Dollars). NICE!

AKWARD MOMENT

The Thai Receptionist saw my marathon bag and this was our conversation;

Thai Receptoinist: You run marathon?
Kelly: Yes
TR: OH! How many kilo?
Kelly: You mean KiloMETERS? Like how far? 42; are you going to watch? Will you cheer for me?
TR: oh no no
Kelly; Umm ok…why not?
TR: Oh bc I think you too fat to run

ouch. I believe what she meant was that I’m not of the physical stature to win the race…which I’m really not; but still….

The Kenyan’s manager gave me a similar reaction

“you don’t have the body to run”

Ouch again. After a few minutes, he threw in,

I mean, you have the body of a model.

hahaha ok nice stretch but good recovery.

FOOD CORNER

Tamarind-
Looks like a giant peanut shell which you crack open and there is flesh around small seeds that taste like and have the consistency of a fruit rollup…mmmmm

Taste:4
Aftertaste 1

Chang Mai Tri

2009-01-29T05:48:00.000-08:00

My only full day to explore Chang Mai was pretty stunted. I woke up late (which was totally necessary) and daddled on the internet for a while. I came across an e mail from a good friend from home, Jason Matsch, which seemed a bit downtrodden. The intimate details of the email are unimportant, but he pointed out to me that my blog had become a bit superficial (which I, too, felt it was becoming), that it has basically turned into recap on what I’ve down and not why and my reactions/reflection. In my haste to continually play catch up, I have begun to leave out the most important part—no more, my friends; it will now be a healthy mix of the two. Hope you’re happy, Jason ☺

After my morning run, I attempted to find one of the orphanages I wanted to work at (or told I could volunteer short term services, rather). No such luck. I talked to two nice Thai men who drew me a little map to where the house really was, then they helped me get a taxi truck to the Doisuthep Temple which is located on top of the local Mountain This is where a white elephant died carrying a golden Buddha statue, thus making it the “chosen” place for the statue to eternally rest. Honestly, I wasn’t too impressed. Maybe the amazing temples in Bangkok and Kyoto jaded me; don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful, meticulously decorated shrines and hand painted murals with a large balcony view point looking out over the city. The temple itself was lined with bells to ring. My favorite part was an unnoticed shrine off to the side in the midst of constrution. Two men were sitting outside delicately painting the tiniest details on wooden panels in gold paint. Their patience and precision is outstanding. What they were slowly painting covered every crevace and wall of the temple area—the time and labor that must’ve taken! I rode back down the long windy mountain road in the back of the truck taxi with a family, whose mother held a bag to her mouth and was heaving due to car sickness (the road is not easy for those with a weak stomach) and an older man with a toung Thai girl who spoke no English. At first, I was disgusted and thought he should feel embarrassed or ashamed (this is a very common occurance in Thailand) but now I don’t know how to feel. It’s quite sad, that way of life that seems to start out with only desire, no communication or common understanding besides pleasure and the pleasure of money. I wonder what these men and women do feel, what it takes to buy and to be willing to sell yourself.

I found the other orphanage but couldn’t help out because the kids were eating. They told me that I could come back any day at five pm in order to play with then for an hour or so. I, instead, tried to take myself to the night bazaar, but suddenly felt very hot and dehydrated so I decided to go to my room and upload pictures and relax for the rest of the evening.

The following day, I took a Thai cooking couse from 9:30 am to 3 pm which was phenomenal! I was picked up, along with an older couple from the UK and another couple from Holland and we were brought to the market to buy our ingredients for the menus we picked (we each got to choose six dishes). Thai’s rarely use supermarkets, all of their food is fresh. I haven’t even seen one, to be honest. She showed us around and explained different types of mushrooms and herbs and what they’re used for. We were then driven back to her home where she has an outdoor cooking school where we each had our own station. First, we each picked a curry and made the paste by hand—I chose green, currently my favorite though I’ve yet to really try any others. You get a morter and pestle to grind up the chilis, onions, and other such ingredients depending on your recipe, until they become a paste. It took forever! I have so much appreciation fo the work they put into their food. After, we went through four dishes we had chosen and then ate them all—Delicious! Everyone shared their dishes and by the end were were extremely full but still had two more dishes to prepare. After, I was so full I went back and took a nap. I woke up three hours later and went to the night bazaar for maybe an hour until I realized I was still too full to function. and went back to sleep.

The next morning I had to get up at 5:30 am to get ready to be picked up for my flight of the Gibbon trip! A group of eight of us went 45 minutes out of the city to do a 2km series of flying foxes over the tree tops of the jungle. The view was increidible! We were so high up you couldn’t even see the ground. They fed us a local cousine lunch of curry and vegetable and fruit before having us hike up a local waterfall (nothing like what I was looking at in New Zealand or Ecuador, but pretty nonetheless) and then brought us back to Chang Mai. There was a nice odler couple from Minneota in my group as well as a couple from Holland and three people from New Zealand who I got close with. Lilly gave me a lot of advice about India because she lived in Goa for 3 months. After I got back I went for a run which was ridiculously hot since it was two in the afternoon. I ran around a track where there was a group of older men wlkaing on as well; they kept giving me the thumbs up sign when I passed—so cute. I then met up with Kelly, she’s a friend of Dr. John who I had met during the Tokyo Santa Con Pub Crawl. She is living in Chang Mai studying Thai massage; we went to the nearby orpahanage Bahn Ging Kaow to play with the children for a couple of hours. There were between 16 and 20 kids from the ages of two to six. They were so happy and kept wanting to be held. I always had atleast one hanging on me. A little boy sat in my lap for probably twenty minutes—not doing anything but watching everyone else play. There aren’t as many adults as kids, obviously, so I don’t think they’re used to having extensive individual attention like average children in a nuclear home—they don’t always have a lap to sit on. I did learn that next time I should remove my jewelry because they kept trying to take it and play with my rings and necklaces. Also, no tube tops, it may be hot but they try and pull it down (There really aren’t that many busty Thai women). We went to the local food stall market across the street for some food after the kids were shuffled inside to free them from the mosquitoes and the met up with Lilly, Katie, and Quinn whom I had met during the flight of the Gibbon. They were at a Vegetarian Restaurant and bar called THC..a hippy place with Rastafarian flags and Bob Marley posters everywhere. We sat on the floor at a low table and drank beer and consumed vegetarian curry. Lilly and I got into a big Buddhist discussion because, though I understand the fundamentals of the religion, I can’t quite grasp the translation from Buddha’s findings and teaching into todays form of practice. The massive excessive temples seem, to me, to be the antithesis of his teachings. isn’t the point enlightenment, a mental goal for oneself and the bettering of humanity? Why th excessive displays, the offering of gifts to statues? This seems contradictory to me. I actually just purchased a book “What the Buddha Taught” that should ease my confusion.

Afterwards, we went to a few bars. Quinn purchased a round of drinks, which we were unaware of, so when they arrived on the bar we hightailed out of there because we thought they were forcing us to drink since we were using the pool table. Kelly ran back to get us and we got back in time to see Quinn getting yelled at by the Lady Boy bartender—she hated him for the rest of the night. We finished our drinks and went to another bar where I got into an argument first with an older Brittish ex cop because he was saying “Oh, now we know someone is getting high in the white house” I was livid. What does that mean? He argument was basically because Obama is black; how racist! He said that he was happy with the decision and excited to see him in the White House, but the fact that his intial compliment was a possible drug habit was appalling. Then, a US ex marine got into the conversation and it somehow turned into a quarrel concerning homosexuality in the army. He was trying to convice me that it was the law to transfer someone out of your squad if they’re gay soley because they are “a f*gg*t”—you’re KIDDING me!!!??? You mean to tell me, that if someone has been working next to you for maybe five years, the best person on your team, has even saved your life, and you find out he’s gay…you move him???

yep.

OMG. Quinn had to drag me away because I was getting so heated. By then it was 3 in the morning and time for bed.

FOOD CORNER

100 Year Egg—The outside is dyed pink to distinguish them from regular eggs and then inside is black and tastes and feels just like a hard boiled egg except the yold isn’t dry but quite creamy. The egg isn’t actually 100 years old; the nae has to do with the fermebtation process where it is buried with ashes for 100 days.

Taste:3
Aftertaste:1

Meal worms- Crunchy and VERY dry. These would make a fabulous bar snack.

Taste:2
Aftertaste:1

Chang Mai Jungle Trek

2009-01-29T05:33:00.000-08:00

The rest of Phi Phi island wasn’t too eventful; I sunbathed on the beach, read my book (Life of Pi), walked around, nothing too spectacular. I left Phi Phi in order to take a 2 hour ferry to Krabi, a 12 hour bus ride to Bangkok, and another 10 hour ride to Chang Mai. Long day! Luckily, I got in in the late afternoon because when I tried to go to the hostel I wanted to stay in (without a reservation, as I do) they were booked! This is the first time this has happened to me; in fact, most of the guest houses were full. Luckily, a woman (Tee) stopped me and said she had a room for 150 baht (less than 4 dollars)—SOLD! I could even book a three day jungle trek with them for cheaper than I thought. I met two guys from New Zealand there and another girl from Seattle, Tegre. We sat outside chatting when T came out with tequila shots—uh oh. We all went out to eat at a nice Thai restaurant called “Good View” on the Ping river where I met one of the New Zealand boy’s mother who works in Chang Mai. She told me about some orphanages I could work at around the city, since I was looking for somewhere to do charity work.

The next morning, I got a motorbike ride to start my jungle trek. We got on the back of a truck bed that had benches and a covered back to go to a market for supplies. After, we drove to a temple basically in the middle of nowhere (the name of which, unfortunately, escapes me because we have gone to so many) with a ridiculous amount of stairs lined with a large dragon as the handrail. At the top there is a massive golden Buddha sitting overlooking the city. We trekked for a few hours to a waterfall and then to our campsite which consisted of three huts and a campfire between the jungle and farmland. The guides cooked a traditional meal for us of curry, rice, and fruit. Afterwards we drank and sang along while the guides played the guitar.

The next morning, we got up early and split off from the two day group in order to do a total of five hours of trekking, stopping along the way at a few waterfalls and a local village. The women wear brightly colored clothes to signify that they are married and they all have reddish black teeth because they chew a concoction daily of red tree bark and tobacco, amongst other things. The men won't marry a woman without this—black teeth are beautiful in their village; I wonder what they think of all of these tourists visiting that have paid for Crest White Strips and professional whitening. A group of children sell necklaces and bracelets; they hold up a handful and look at you with a sad facial expression in hopes that you will spend 20 baht on a few beads on a string. I went up to a small girl in back that had been pushed aside by the others and bought a tiny bracelet from her; she even let me take her picture and when I showed her the results she finally smiled. The children are very shy at first; they stop and stare at us more than we do at them. After a while, though, they start jumping around and open up, as children do. I have difficulty figuring out if what we are doing is disrespectful, parading around their villages, looking into their homes, taking pictures of their children—are we crossing boundaries? We went into a home and some people were taking pictures of a mother with her 15 day old baby; it just seems like a line is being crossed. I almost feel like we’re treating them like they’re in the zoo. Personally, I just want to see how other people live around the world, but I think there is a fine line between learning/documenting and exploiting.

We didn’t really see any interesting animals along the way, lots of trees and dirt and bugs. We did, however, see a plant which looks like grass with small red flowers. It has tiny leaves which move when touched like the legs on a millipede so that the water buffalo won’t eat it—genius.

The final day was absolutely amazing. We got up pretty late, around nine am or so. I didn’t sleep well, again. The first night it was because it was freezing and I’m a bit temperature sensitive, the second night was a bit different. I kept having a reoccurring dream that I was on an island and it was flooding and I had to keep dodging massive objects such as ships and trucks while trying not to drown. Also, my teeth were chipping away and falling out. I’ve also been having a lot of dreams about tornadoes and having to dodge them, as well. GUH! So stressful! Anyway, we went to the nearby village to buy some more souvenirs and play with the local kids. The night before a few little boys came to us while we were playing cards and started Muay Thai fighting—throwing each other around and kicking and giggling. Two dogs almost started fighting so the four of them picked up one and dragged it back to the village. It was absolutely hilarious. These kids really live basically in the middle of no where and are so happy! The dog’s aggression made no negative impact on them, whatsoever, they kept playing and defending each other. One little boy cut his foot open and it was gushing blood. He was so strong, he didn’t scream or cry or anything, just sat down and looked at it until we got his father over and he scooped him up to play doctor. These children are all so content and happy; Book, our guide, tells us that the people in the villages don’t care about money and material things; health and family are important; they are content with what they have, not greedy in desiring more. It really puts your life in perspective when you see a child with only a string and a rock who couldn’t be happier.

These same kids were helping sell in the local market, like kids will do, try and play grown up and haggle prices with us. After a while it was time to say goodbye. Richard, Maggie (the Canadian couple) and I went “white water rafting” which was more like slow stream paddling, down the river for about an hour to meet up with the rest of the group for bamboo rafting. WWR was a good time; it was relaxing and we got to see some water buffalo and local people eating and doing washing along the river. The bamboo rafting was much better; it is a flat raft made of bamboo poles roped together. Two people stand up and paddle by pushing a bamboo pole off of the riverbed or nearby rocks. The guide kept rocking the boat and making me run into the bank and rocks because I was in the back, so I almost fell off.

Our last adventure was elephant riding. I sat on it’s neck while Eliana (from Greece) sat on the chair on its back. It’s difficult to hold your balance because its back arches left and right with every step while it’s flapping its ears against your legs and blowing snot on your feet. The skin is so rough and wrinkly while it’s hair is like steel wool. However, despite its exterior, the animal is very slow and gentle, and mostly concerned with eating grass and bananas. After the elephant ride we had to say goodbye to the village Thais and headed back into the city. I slept like a baby that night in my 4 dollar queen sized bed private room ☺

To Krabi to Bangkok

2009-01-11T23:32:00.000-08:00

Camillo, originally from Chile but living in Sweden, went with me to buy bus tickets to Krabi in the morning. It took us about an hour and a half each way via the Skytrain and a cab because the traffic is insane! We decided the following afternoon to take the local bus. Luckily, we left extremely early because it took us two and a half hours and we had five minutes to spare before the bus left! A Thai man on the bus helped us get there in time by basically running us to the gate. We got on the 12 hour ride, no problem, and slept most of the way. A movie dubbed in Thai was playing when we started the trip and when I woke up a few hours later, there was Thai music video karaoke—if only I could read it! We arrived at 5:30 in the morning on January 8th and we sat in the tourist office /restaurant until his bus came for Ko Lanta and Mine for Phi Phi (pronounced pee pee) island. I took an hour and a half long ferry ride to paradise. Every day here feels like a beach day—clear sunny skies and 90 degree weather! The beaches are filled with soft white sand and have gorgeous clear blue water.

I wasn’t quite sure where the hostel was, but I heard a British guy behind me say something about the last time he was here, so I asked if he knew where the Rock Hostel was being that I had no clue and every travel agent I talked to pretended they had no idea what it was and tried to book me into a resort. They were heading to the same place, so I followed and we got the last four dorm beds. We immediately went to the beach and sat there soaking up the sun and Singha beer for the rest of the day. After a while I looked down to see bright red arms—ugh. Everyone back at the hostel commented on my new hue. I ended up just going out to eat with a small group then chatting and going to bed even thought everyone was going out because this is a big party island. Today, I sat in the shade reading all day. I sat with a Norweigen guy, Andrew, for about two hours that morning for breakfast chatting about our lives. That night I worked at an Irish bar handing out a few fliers for free drinks and 300 Baht (maybe 8 dollars). I met a group of New Zealanders and ended up staying out with them until 4 in the morning. The next day, I got up early and Andrew and I went on an all day snorkeling trip around the island. We went to Monkey bay where there are a bunch of small friendly monkeys that people feed them bananas. I got a really good close up of one right before he lunged to try and steal my camera. I screamed and ran away like a girl and from then on out kept my distance. The water is so warm and the fish swim all around you. They have brilliant colors, some of which are neon like the Atomic Skis from the 90’s. We went to Maya Bay, which is where “the Beach” was filmed, and had lunch on the beach. We saw a few more sights before heading back during sunset. That night there was a full moon and a party on the beach to celebrate. I bar hopped with a few guys from the hostel for a while before we went there. Some big English guy was trying to tell me that he could shake his chest and butt better than me…umm no…do you see the size of these? I win by default ☺

The next day I was so hung-over (sorry Mom, it happens). I didn’t get out of bed until 1 and ended up blogging all day. This is why I don’t go out too much when I’m traveling. I like to do things with my day and not feel like a waste of painful space ☺

One night in Bangkok I went On Nut and saw the Super P*ssy

2009-01-11T22:55:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Bangkok, Thailand at about 4 in the afternoon on January 2nd. I was sweating the moment I stepped off of the plane—quite the shock to the body to be living in 20 degree weather and then flip to 90 degrees and humid! I walked into a hostel in the center of the city that was really cheap (about 6 dollars a night). When I checked online, Hostelworld said that there were vacancies so I figured I wouldn’t have a problem. When I got there, however, the man at the front desk told me there were no rooms. I informed him that online said otherwise, he stopped and then said oh, yes, I think we have one bed and let me in. That first night I stayed in a room with one other girl in a tiny room that basically only had room for our bunk beds and our bags. This is also the only room without air conditioning and is on the 5th floor--hot, hot, hot. I dropped my stuff off and wondered over to a side street to find some food since I hadn’t eaten much all day. All down the street, there are little, local, outdoor restaurants with Thai women shoving menus at everyone walking by. I took a seat on a picnic table and pointed to a picture that looked good. I ended up with a lot of rice and noodles. Afterwards, I ran into a girl that I was on the airport transfer bus with (Trina from Germany), and we wondered around a nearby night market where you can purchase any “name brand” good your heart delsires—Ed Hardy t-shits, Gucci bags, Prada shades, Diesel jeans, rolex watches, whatever. The sides of the street are lined with bars and “ping pong” shows. I haven’t seen one yet, but apparently women do ridiculous things involving ANYTHING and their lady parts. There’s even a place called the “Super Pussy,” I’ll find out what that entails later. I was feeling pretty awful after all the food I ate, so I left and headed back to my hostel.

The next day I went for a run in Limphini park which was absolutely gorgeous. There are all sorts of groups of people doing dance, yoga, and martial arts throughout the park. After, I went to the Chatachak market which is only open on the weekends and is MASSIVE. I was lost inside for nearly four hours. Everything is there; food, bags, furniture, nick knacks, clothes, art, pet supplies—even puppies! Those poor things looked so hot and miserable; everyone was trying to touch them; it was so sad. I ate a bunch of street food including these waffle cone-like cups with some sort of custard, coconut ice cream in a cocunut shell, and balls of some sort of meat on a stick—a little spicy but I have no clue what it was. After, I took the skytrain back to the hostel and I walked around the night market again, and people watched while eating at a restaurant on the side. Thai men and women were heckling everyone to come to strip shows and bargaining over the price of bags and pashminas. I actually had an air conditioned room that night, and I met two people from Oklahoma traveling for a few weeks. We bonded over the idiocy of Sarah Palin during the recent election and traveling until we went to sleep.

The next night I had nowhere to stay because my hostel was booked, so I moved to another one randomly in hopes of vacancy. As soon as I walked in the door I heard a girl say my nme. I turn to find Corinne Rossignol who I went to Boston University with—Small world, again! She and I caught up for a while and she showed me a gym down the road that I didn’t have to pay for—horray! I worked out for a bit and then took the sky train to the pier in order to catch a river ferry to see some temples. I arrived a little late in the day so a few were closed, but I did get to go to Wat Po which is where the world’s largest reclining Buddha lies (his moment of enlightenment)--it’s 15 meters high and 46 meters long and is constructed with brick and wood and is plated in gold. The feet have designs in them in Mother of pearl. The next day I went back to the river ferry and they were trying to charge me more for the ticket—luckily I knew better and didn’t get scammed. I took the boat back to the Grand Palace and Wat Phraw Kaew where the Emerald Buddha sits (it actually is constructed from Jade). All the temples here are gold/glittering monstrocities with hand painted murals, colored glass, gold coating, and ceramic flowers. The view is awe inspiring to see all the work people go to for their faith.

FOOD CORNER

On my way back to the river ferry, I walked through a small food market. Nothing jumped out at me as too unusual until I decided to go down a random side aisle where I found COCKROACHES. I stood there in front of the bowl, staring at the deceased bugs coated in salt and, after much contemplation, purchased one. She ripped the wings off and put it into a plastic bag. Once I got back to the hostel, I found some moral support to witness my meal. Dave was ready with my camera while I munched on a cockroach as long as my pointer finger and twice as wide. It was awful. The body is similar to a peanut shell; mildly metallic tasting and difficult to break down. I was probably chewing for over a solid minute before I could swallow. The insides were gooey (which you would expect from a bug) but tasted like Jaeger, oddly enough, which is not one of my preferred alcoholic beverages. Yuck.

Taste: 1
Aftertaste:1

Tokyo Two

2009-01-11T00:06:00.000-08:00

I finally arrived in Tokyo, after a long restless bus ride, at about 6 am. I disembarked to frigid air that I haven't felt in at least a year. I half walked/half ran to the subway station and went back to the Asakusa hostel. I was exhausted and freezing, but I couldn't check into my room until the afternoon; I sat in Starbucks reading for half the day and then snuck back in and fell asleep on the couch in the common room--hah. The next day, I ventured around the city and went to purchase a new camera at the store, Yodobashi, which is known for good and cheap electronics, since mine decided to die on Christmas day. I got a new Cannon w/ a free 2 gig card for around $185--not bad. I was supposed to go out to a club called "Pop It" with some Japanese women that I met on the Santa pub crawl, but I found out about the death of a friend of mine, Eric Rego, so, needless to say, I didn't really feel like partying. I went to bed at 6pm and stayed there for a very very long time.

I wanted to lie around all day, but I had to leave at 11 am because I didn't have that night booked due to no vacancy. I walked around Omatesando and through Yoyogi park before meeting up with Bradon and Garret, whom I had met in Auckland. It was nice to see some familiar faces! I met them at the hostel, along with two of their friends from California, Matt and Todd, and we wondered around Shinjuku and into a few bars before going back to their hostel. The boys snuck me into their place because I actually didn't have any accommodation for the evening and was probably going to end up sleeping in a McDonalds. They were in a capsule hostel, which is basically beds in pods on top of each other. They are pretty big, though, there was enough room for two of us to lie down comfortably without even touching. The next day I checked back in to my hostel and met back up with the boys and another one of their friends from high school who is studying Japanese in Tokyo, Jen, and went to do some karaoke! We rented a room with neon and black lights and sang our sober hearts out for a few hours. Karaoke is huge here; however, I find it interesting that everyone rents out a room and sings with their friends rather than in an open room on stage like what I'm used to seeing. I think I just like public humiliation :) After Karaoke we wondered around the brightly lit area of Shinjuku for a little while watching people and I won a little carton of Haagen Daaz in a vending machine before heading home.

The next day I met up with the boys and we took a day trip to Hakone where you can see Mt. Fuji. It's basically a full day of public transportation with phenomenal views. We took the subway, bus, pirate ship (seriously) through lake Ashi, three cable cars, and then back. When we got back to Tokyo we were all starving and craving sushi so we asked a random local security guard if he could point us in the right direction. We went to a Kaiten sushi restaurant which is extremely popular and pretty cheap. We had to stand outside in a line for over a half hour before we could get seats. Well worth the wait, though. Each plate is color coded, representing the price, and you can take whatever you want or ask the chefs, who are on the other side of the conveyor belt, to make whichever roll you wish. Some of the highlights were flying fish, whale, and live prawn. I had a massive stack of plates and spent about 30 dollars on the entire meal--not bad for sushi in Japan! Afterwards, we headed to Jen's place where she was graciously letting us stay for a few nights. We got there around one in the morning and I passed out on the floor while they reminisced about hight school. She lives with a host family but has her own apartment. They made us lunch the next day of tuna and tofu sushi before I had to run out and grab my belongings, as well as my Visa for India! I met back up with everyone around 10:30 pm in order to celebrate New Year's eve. We planned on going to a club but en-route, Bradon and I ended up talking to some random people and lost everyone else. We spent a while trying to find them and when we finally did, half of the group was in the club, but one of the guys couldn't get in because he was too drunk. We ended up taking turns sitting with him in Starbucks until everyone was done partying--I spent my new years drinking a hot cocoa :(. The next day we went to the Park Hyatt Hotel bar, which was in Lost in Translation, in order to have a few cocktails and see the ridiculous view of Tokyo it has to offer. Afterwards, Garrett and I ended up going back to Jen's place while everyone else went out. I gathered all of my belongings and headed towards the airport since my flight was going to leave in the morning. I figured I'd just sleep there and save myself the hassle of traveling on a timeline in the morning. The train was two stops from the airport when I hear "final destination" over the intercom and everyone gets out. I tell the workers that I need to get to the airport and they tell me to take a cab. What??? Grr. I go to the cab and he holds his arms up in a big "X" and tells me it's closed. Closed? I didn't know airports closed! I ended up having to sleep in McDonalds for six hours until the subway started back up again and I could head out for my flight. What an ending to my stay in Japan!

FOOD CORNER

At the sushi restaurant Garret and I decided to be little daredevils and try live prawn. The chef shows us the crawly creatures so we can take a few photos before chopping off and frying up their heads for us to munch on. He then takes the tail meat and puts it on a chunk of sticky rice and hands it over to us. The tail is STILL MOVING. The waitress then tells us to pour a little soy sauce on it. After doing so the meet starts twitching, and I don't mean a little slight movement; the tail was having intense spasms to the point that I was wondering if it was going to roll itself off of the rice. The tail was expanding and contracting and flicking from left to right. It took about five minutes to finally put the piece in my mouth, but I'm so glad I did it! I was so fresh (obviously) and flavorful; like nothing I've ever tasted.

Taste: 5
Aftertaste:1

AKWARD MOMENT

Jen ran to McDonalds to grab us some food on New Year's Eve while sitting in Starbucks with our too-drunk friend. We couldn't bring the food inside so I came out a stood outside munching on some fries while she went back in to babysit. While standing outside I started getting random high fives from drunk tourists celebrating. A group of guys stopped and started talking to me, mostly with slightly vulgar complements concerning my looks and my bum. I tried to eat as quickly as I could so I could get away while Jen and Bradon just observed, laughing, from inside...

Merry Christmas Mom and Dad

2009-01-10T23:02:00.001-08:00

A little belated, but I thought everyone would like to see the Christmas card I made and sent to my family :)

2008-12-27T01:13:00.001-08:00

I just found out that a good friend of mine from Hastings, MN, Eric Rego, passed away tonight from Pneumonia.

Rest In Peace, Rego, you will be missed.

And then Santa Dropped Trou

2008-12-24T01:18:00.001-08:00

50 Japanese guys in Santa Suits on a Drinking parade through Tokyo.

Best Christmas ever :)

The day after the fish market, I was supposed to go see Tamao's friend's Japanese Gospel Christmas concert but the train I needed never came! I was frustrated and felt bad, but I decided to not waste my day and go wondering around Shibuya towards Yoyogi park. Throughout my walk, I had seen a few people running around in Santa costumes but thought nothing of it. As I was walking through an outdoor fair trade market, I saw two Americans wearing Santa suits, as well. I asked the guy what was going on and he said " Santa-Con!" He handed me a hat and a can of pineapple cocktail and told me to join. Basically, it was a group of maybe 50 Japanese and 10 American Santas having a drunk parade through Tokyo...amazing. I met a few people who work with digital editing and graphics and actually hung out with them on Christmas (we'll get to that later). I also met a Japanese woman, Shihoko, who invited me to go to a club with her this coming Saturday called "Pop It!" She also asked me if I liked girls or boys (haha ummm boys) and was trying to come up with a single guy for me...uh, that's ok. I had to cut the night short because I was getting on a bus at 10 headed to Kyoto overnight!

Needless to say, I had no problem sleeping through the entire bus ride. I arrived in Kyoto at five in the morning. Unfortunately, I wasn't goiungn to be meeting Tamao's friend, Hiromi, until noon, so I found a 24 hour internet cafe and hung out there until it was light out. Hiromi brought me to see Kinkakuji, aka the Golden Pavilion, which is a temple covered in gold, and to the Kiyomizudera which sits on a high hill and has a beautiful view of Kyoto. It is also for the springs that run through it; you are able to drink the water which is supposed to have healing power. There are numerous temples and shrines in this little area. I went back a few days later when it was early in the day and sunny out and explored a few of them. My favorite which I am struggling to find the name for, bring you into the basement of a temple. You pay 100 Yen (a dollar), take off your shoes, and follow a handrail of enlarged prayer beads through a windy, pitch-black hallway. The experience is very relaxing (it would have been even more so if people weren't disrespectful and immature and giggling); however, I just closed my eyes and walked slowly, blocking out all the sounds and focused. It's difficult to explain the feeling you get (or at least I had) when coming back out into the light. It's supposed to be like entering the womb of Buddha--to be a cleansing experience where you can focus on your deepest desires.

That first night, I stayed with Hiromi in Kobe; she took me out to sushi before heading back to her apartment (basically a small studio) where i passed out instantly. The next day (Monday) Hiromi had to go to work, so I went to Osaka and sat in Starbucks all day catching up on my journal and making a christmas card for my family. I ended up talking to an 86 year old Japanese man named Nakagawa for about two hours. He was very sweet and his English was fantastic. He told me all about his family; old Japanese traditions between men and women and in society in general, and about World War 2. He was born in the states but lived in Japan since he was very young. His father lived in America and sent money home for his entire life; Nakagawa one and only time he saw his father's face when he went back to Japan soon before he left for WWII--sad. This is actually something I heard a lot about in South America. Older women would talk to me on the bus because they liked to practice their Engilsh and would tell me about their lives--their children, husbands, and working. Many of these women had husbands in the States sending money back for their families; I'm not talking about for a few months or even a few years, I mean 10/15/20 years where they never see each other, they only talk on the phone. Anyway, he told me if I was ever back in Kyoto that he goes to that Starbucks every Monday if I want to chat...so cute.

That night Hiromi and some of her co-workers made dinner and had a few drinks. We had Nabe which is a traditional Japanese hot pot. They basically fill a deep bowl with water or some type of broth and add fresh vegetables, meats, noodles, and fish to make a stew that is continuously eaten. Each person purchased one, maybe two alcoholic beverages and were hammered--the Japanese have no alcohol tolerance--within a half hour the room was filled with red faces.

The next day I said goodbye to Hiromi and took a little trip into Osaka to run around the castle for a while and take pictures; then I took the train back to Kyoto for my two days there. I spent a long day walking around the city; I went back to the Kiyumizudera and then went to the Fushimi Inari Shrine, or the Red Gate, where there are 500 Torii gates (basically a tunnel of orange pillars with Japanese writing on them) that represent each of Buddha's disciples. The "tunnel" goes on for about 4km and travels up and down hills through masses of trees and along waterways. I tried to make my way to the Philosophers path up to the Silver Pavilion (Ginkakuji) but I, of course, got lost. I ended up on a windy road which lacked a shoulder and figured I'd get run over if I continued. I turned around and went to the Nishiki Food market instead and wondered through Gion (Kyoto's Geisha district) on my way back to the hostel.

My last day in Kyoto was Christmas day! I met up with the Americans I met at Santa Con, Craig and John, and we went to see the Nijo Castle; it was beautifully decorated with scenic murals and golden leaf squares. When walking around the castle, the floorboards make a chirping noise (it's know as Nightingale floor) as a security system so they wouldn't be attacked by intruders (ninjas, more specifically). After the castle, we met up with Kathry and Soren to take some pictures of the Kiyumizudera temple and then went out to eat for a, um, traditional (?) Christmas dinner. The restaurant is called Okariba. The chef, Aoki, prepared us food that he hunted and foraged himself. We Sat on tree stumps surrounding a round table with a mini campfire in the middle. He then gave us Boar Skewers, Grilled mushrooms and tofu, miso cooked on a tea leaf in front of us, smoked goose, and BEAR sashimi. We had a dessert of bees and grasshopers in a sweet soy sauce and washed it all down with his own house infused alcohols--current, plum, black snake, red snake, and killer bee....mmmm. He even let us go to the tap and refill our own drinks. It was honestly delicious and Aoki was so helpful. He even gave us all going away presents--Kathryn and I both received hand warmers because he said the next day was going to be freezing and he also gave us chopsticks. Craig got a to go box of Grasshoppers and bees for a midnight snack :) Afterwards, I left everyone to get back on my second overnight bus back to Tokyo.

FOOD CORNER

Bees and grasshoppers. The bees tasted and looked like a soft peanut and the grasshoppers really just tasted like the sauce and were crunchy. Once you get over the fact that you are consuming bugs and all that comes with them, they're not too bad.

Taste 3
Aftertaste 1

AKWARD MOMENT

I am too big for this country. I hit my head on things, I feel like Bill Murray in Lost in Translation; the shower heads are at chest height, I have to contort myself in order to rinse soap out of my hair and get the shampoo bottle off of the floor. This country is small and compact and I am definitely not. That being said, let me tell you about the second over night bus right between Kyoto and Tokyo. Somehow, this bus was smaller than the initial one; and it was, of course, filled to capacity. I had a window seat, and a tiny Japanese girl sat next to me. I had my backpack and a shoulder bag with me with all of my important belongings; I bent over to situate them beneath me and when I tried to sit back in my seat, I found that I didn't fit. I tried to squeeze my shoulders in between the girl and the window, but it was useless--I looked like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy. I had to angle my body and lean against the window. I feel asleep for a bit and woke up a while later because the girl next to me had fallen asleep on her side with her bum up against me in my seat (there generally aren't arm rests on public transportation). I was basically plastered up against the wall. Annoyed and sleepy, I decided to just shove her over into her seat until she woke up and finally moved. Bit of a crude move, but she was half my size, she can't have half my seat! This bum battle went on for the entire bus ride......

Merry Christmas!

Takin' over Tokyo

2008-12-19T01:40:00.000-08:00

Konichiwa!

I've been in Japan for four days and I think I am finally getting the hang of this country. I got really comfortable and extremely lazy in New Zealand where everyone was accommodating and spoke English. There really aren't many people here that I can communicate with; I've resorted to smiling, pointing, and bowing. Though I do know a few Japanese words, it's hardly enough to get me from A to B. This has resulted in lots of wondering circles, due to my FABULOUS sense of direction. That's fine with me, though, because this place is SO large and there's so much to see on every street and alley way and in every direction--right, left, up, down...everywhere. I seriously feel like I'm on mushrooms (not that I am...or know what that's like...or...don't do drugs, kids) because I find myself sitting and staring at the smallest things due to noises or blinking lights. This isn't just me being easily distracted, either, because no matter where you turn there is audio and visual stimulation.

Ok; backtrack!

After a three hour nap, I achieved the impossible--I hitchhiked from Queenstown, NZ (South island) to Wellington (Southern tip of the North island) in one day. This, in total, is about a 10 hour straight drive and a three hour ferry ride. Being that I am, well, slightly amazing, I had no problem accomplishing this. I started out with an Australian couple that was jetting to Christchurch in order to catch a flight (5-6 hour drive). After that, I caught a few short rides, one of which was with two men and two poodles who lectured me on the safety of hitchhiking. After about 5 minutes I was offered a beer by the passenger and when I got out ten minutes later I realized the driver had a Corona in his lap, as well. Thank God I didn't ride with them longer! After leaving the Inebriated car, I was picked up by the most adorable older gentleman, Graeme Kerr, who lives in Picton which just so happens to be the tiny town where I pick up the Ferry. I slept on the floor of the boat and crashed at a hostel in Wellington for a few hours until it was a safe time to hitch, again!

I did something I said I would never do. I accepted a ride from a trucker. I know, I know, silly. However, I was trying to carry my bag up a massive hill; with no good spot to stand in sight, I figured he was my best bet. He drove me up and over to the closest gas station so he could stop and get lunch and I would have a better chance at a ride. Safe and sound. Phew. A few rides later, a 21 year old local girl picked me up and brought me all the way to Lake Taupo (about a three hour ride) where I wanted to stay for a night. The weather was absolutely beautiful, so we ended up hanging out and lying along the water for a little while. That night, I met three British boys who took me out for my birthday. A little drinking, nothing too crazy. We did break into a McDonald's playground at 2 am, however, I can't resist slides! The next day I got the rest of the way to Raglan where I stayed for a few days with friends until I needed to get to the Auckland airport. I met Jess Weller, a local New Zealander, who brought me all the way to the Airport--we are now Facebook friends :) I got to the airport at four pm, thought my flight wasn't until nine the next morning. I spent my time updating this blog, taking care of errands, and, of course, sleeping.

When I got off of the plane (a ten and a half hour flight filled with five movies and two incredibly filling meals), I had no idea what i was doing. I only wrote down enough directions to get me through the metro system but never had time to download the local map. A Japanese guy took it upon himself to be my guide throughout the subway since I was obviously standing there looking really confused and spinning in circles. He even got off of the train with me to help ask for directions and a map to get me to my hostel! After that, I got lost, again, because few streets are labeled and every road twists and turns over one other. An older Japanese gentleman started talking to me, all of which I could not understand, and had me follow him. I kept saying that I didn't understand but he just kept waving for me to follow and brought me to my hostel! Amazing! I have found that a lot here, that people will lead you to your destination even if it is not along their route. Also, they will continue talking to you in conversational Japanese even though it is obvious that there is no comprehension.

The next day I wondered around Asakusa, the area where my hostel is located. Tokyo is a massive city consisting of 34 wards (neighborhoods) and just as many millions of people. Not ten minutes away, there is a temple called the Senso-Ji which holds a golden image of Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy. The entrance to the temple is through the Kaminarimon or Thunder gate; leading up to that is the Nakamise-dori (dori means street) which is an alley with numerous shops selling everything from kimonos to Lamb-raisin soft serve. There are numerous other shrines, temples, and statues in the area, as well. I found it interesting that, while admiring the golden trim of one temple, an amusement park ride was operating in the distance behind it...contemporary amusement combined with ancient culture. The next day there was actually a fair surrounding the temple; Hagoita-ichi...basically a reason to try local food :)

The weather was rainy and depressing on Wednesday. I borrowed (kinda stole) a Lonely Planet book from the hostel and used it as a guide around Shinjuku; basically an area to get the feel of the city in a short amount of time. Once exiting the subway station, I was immediately surrounded by massive video screens and flashing lights. I ended up walking into Golden Gaiwhich is an area of a few winding alleyways with teeny tiny bars that literally only hold a few people. I went here the other night with Fumiki, Paul's friend (the hostel owner in Karamea, NZ) to a small bar that had room for five stools if our backs were all against the entrance door. He treated me to local food and beer. I tried pickled plums which are...sour but not bad in all honesty. I'd never purchase one for a snack, but Im glad I tried it! This area is basically sitting on top of Tokyo's red-light district, Kabukicho, which is an area filled with "performance" shows and Love motels boasting nightly and "rest" rates. Basically, men come here to cheat on their wives.

On Thursday, the weather was bright and sunny again (yet still cold because it is winter here), so I wondered around the Shibuya area, checking out trinkets and apparently one of the busiest crosswalks in the world. There is also a statue of a dog, the Hachiko statue, which people use as a meeting place outside of the metro station, that was erected in remembrance of a dog that supposedly waited there in the 20's for his master after he died. Sad. From there I wondered around the Imperial Gardens, which were pretty, yet I could see how much more impressive they would have been in the summer when the Cherry Blossoms are in bloom. Finally, I found my way to the Ueno park and onto the Tokyo National Museum. There were plenty of street performers with flutes, guitars, juggling swords, not to mention numerous shrines and statues and even a Zoo!

Today, I got up early and went to the Tsujiki Fish Market; the auction starts at five in the morning, but I went at eight in order to check out all of the food stalls and eat some samples. I consumed the largest oyster I have ever seen. It was delicious (Oishi in Japanese)! Afterwards, I took myself over to Ginza, which is equivelent to NYC's 5th avenue (According to Lonely Planet, and once there I saw why!) boasting every high end shop you could imagine from Hermes and Tiffany's all the way to the Gap (and, of course, Starbucks). I went into the Sony Building which is five levels of hands on techy fun! I wondered around a few more shops before going to apply for my India Visa (keep your fingers crossed that it arrives before my flight!) and headed on back to the hostel!

AKWARD MOMENT

It's back! I had to go to the 7-11 convenience store in order to make passport copies to obtain my visa. Everything is in Japanese symbols and I have no idea how to work the thing (so sad). An older woman helped me out and while I was making copies, a Japanese guy started trying to hit on me. He was extremely awkward and I bolted before anything got any weirder. i was told that no one was going to find me attractive here. Blonde girl+getting hit on in Japan by a japanese boy+7-11 convenience store=....

FOOD CORNER

SQUID BALLS AKA Takoyaki! Originally, I thought these were deep fried balls of doughy deliciousness..however, it turns out that they are actually balls of sticky rice baked in a pan with an entire baby squid inside, tentacles and all. They brush soy sauce over the top and sometimes squirt on a dollop of mayo.

Taste- 4
Aftertaste-1

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

2008-12-12T23:17:00.000-08:00

The other day, my birthday, actually, I got an e-mail from Marathon tours. Apparently, there have been some recent cancellations and I am now off of the wait list for Antarctica!! However, the only problem now is having the money, being that the trip is about $6000!! I originally had a sponsor in Boston, so I am now waiting to hear back from him to see if he is still willing to monetarily support me. Keep your fingers crossed!

PS I'll put up more pictures on my blog soon, promise!

Goodness Gracious, Glaciers!

2008-12-12T21:24:00.000-08:00

On my last day at Punakaiki, I had two show one of the new workers, who spoke very little English, how to clean before I took off on my next hitchhiking adventure towards Franz Josef glacier. Hamish, Te Nikau Resort’s owner, brought me to the information center in order to find a ride. From there, a friend of theirs, Brendon, picked me up and brought me into Greymouth; he even brought me to a store, “Warehouse” in order to find a raincoat! We ended up having to sit on the road for 45 minutes because a milk truck had turned over and was blocking the only road (no one was hurt). I found a few more rides that brought me all the way to Wanaroa. It had been raining all day and I had only about 30k left to get me to the glaciers. I started walking towards the corner where it looked like I’d have a better chance of picking up a ride when I noticed about five or six guys staring at me from the porch of the one and only bar in town. The chef, Liam, immediately starting heckling me (in a nonthreatening sort of way) telling me to get out of the rain and get in the bar and have a beer. I figured, why not? He said he’d take me to Franz Josef if I was willing to wait until he got off of work, so I sat inside from 6 pm until almost 11 drinking with all of the young locals (for free). At 11, Liam said he could take me to Franz or I could just stay at his place with him and his cousins since they have a room with beds that they rent out. Free accommodation? I’m there. I hung out with the boys and another girl from Canada, Pascal, for a while and then went to sleep. Pascal wanted to take me on a tour of the town the next day, showing me dairy farms and how cows are milked, I told her thanks, but since I grew up in the Midwest I had already experienced it and really needed to get a move on!

The next day Liam drove me into Franz Josef so I could drop my bag off in a hostel where he knew all of the workers. I quickly took off in order to hike Alex’s Knob…yep, I mounted Alex’s Knob (I love hiking innuendos!). All of my hikes so far have been long but not too taxing incline wise—this was significantly different. Apparently, it is supposed to be a 6-8 hour return trip, however, It took me about 3 hours up and 2 down. The view from the top is GORGEOUS. After going straight up for three hours you finally come to a plateau with a clear view of Franz Josef glacier (assuming the weather is good). On the way down I ran into a mother and son from the states who were on their way to Fox Glacier the next day. I talked to them for a little while and they told me that they would bring me if I could find them, since they weren’t sure which hostel they were staying at. Turns out, my bags were at the hostel they were in, small world, yet again. I rode with them the next morning and they dropped me off in town where I could drop off my bag.

In the hostel, the receptionist told me it wasn't a good idea to hike the Copland track by myself because I might "get washed away by the river." There were four Germans who were doing the same hike that I was (Welcome Flat) and they allowed me to ride with them the 20 k out of town to the start of the track. I hiked with them for a little bit and then took off on my own because I have become a bit of a speedy hiker. It took me five and a half hours to hike up the steep 17 km to the hut that I was staying in overnight. The hike goes over and along numerous streams, so it is impossible to keep your feet dry. I even accidentally stepped in a mud puddle that happened to be deep as my calf…gross. There is also an “active landslide zone” for 500 mteters which is absolutely petrifying to cross. There have been recent slips, so there are few markers displaying the correct path, there are giant cracks in the ground and sand falls away beneath each step—I was by myself and seriously thought there would be a landslide any second so I basically ran across the area to solid ground. At the top there are hot springs that have a view of mountains surrounding the area—the weather was perfectly clear, not a cloud insight!

The next day I got up at 6 am in order to hike back down. I finished in a about four hours and had to hitch back to Franz Josef. Being that I have an awful sense of direction, I walked to the one building I could find, a sheep sheering shed, to ask if I was moving in the correct direction. I really attractive younger guy told me I was, and, once I started walking, an older gentleman told me to walk to other direction (just messing with me, meanie!). Once I got back to the hostel, I found another girl, Luisa from Germany, who was also hitchhiking. She and I teamed up and found a ride that brought her all the way to Wanaka (about 200k) and me about 50 k from my destination in Queenstown. He dropped me off near Cromwell where another man picked me up and brought me to downtown Queenstown where I met up with Marissa and Ryan. They are in New Zealand on a work visa, so they actually have jobs and are living in an apartment in the city. When I got there I was just in time since they were having a BBQ house party. I had a taxi bring me to their place and immediately started playing beer pong…So much fun! The weather was pretty awful the next day, so we just sat around watching movies until it was time to go out! They showed me the Queenstown bar scene and then we went to Fergberger (MASSIVE burgers, so delicious at 4 am after spending hours in the bars).

Land of Pancake Rocks and Blow Holes

2008-12-12T21:21:00.000-08:00

The next day Paul, the owner, brought me and three others into Westport in order to catch buses. It was still raining and I needed to hitch another 50 km to Punakaiki, where I would be working in a hostel for the next two weeks in exchange for food and accomodation. One woman from New Zealand brought me part way, telling me I was the first hitchhiker she’s ever picked up (I’ve heard this numerous times, I must still exude “Minnesota Niceness”). After that, two boys from Alaska brought me the rest of the way, entertaining me with crazy stories of their drunken night before with the rowdy Rugby crowd and singing. They couldn’t turn their van off because it wouldn’t start back up, so they were on their way to find a mechanic.

I didn’t end up having to do any work that first day. I just sat in the staff house reading and eating muffins. I started working with four other kids—Theresa and Johannes from Germany, Bastian from Canada (French-Canadian), and Tamao from Japan. We all got along very well instantly, like we’ve known eachother forever. The next day, Bastian showed me the daily procedures. At ten, we meet in reception and find out what beds need to be changed. There are around nine houses with between one and ten beds to clean with their own kitchens and bathrooms. In order to get to these houses, you walk along paths through the bush lined with streams and trees. We finish around two in the afternoon and have the rest of the day to ourselves. The first three days were very rainy so we just hung out around the house. Tamao and I tried to bake cookies, but I accidentally used muffin mix instead of flour so they turned into Mookies (fluffy muffin top cookies☺ ).

The next day was my turn to bake. Everyday one of us gets up at seven a.m. to bake a dozen muffins and four loaves of bread for people to purchase. That night, that same person also has to cook dinner for all the workers. Since it was almost Thanksgiving, I cooked a pseudo traditional meal. I attempted my mother’s cheesy hashbrowns but was missing the majority of the ingredients, they were still good though@ Johannes cooked up some vegetables while I breaded some chicken thighs (with Cornflakes, Grandma Lucius’ recipe) and fried them with a lot of oil—delicioius. There are a few vegetarians here, actually outnumbering the carnivores, so I just did the same with a block of Tofu…I have no idea if that was good or not but they put on a smile for me anyway. I wanted to cut it into the shape of a turkey but didn’t have the time. Also, I baked apples with brown sugar, a favorite fall dessert of mine! The next meal I made was pizza from scratch, dough, sauce and all! Who knew I was so domesticated? I’ve getten a lot better at cleaning, too. The first day consisted of a lot of cussing being that I haven’t made a bed in about a decade. Ask my mom, I’ve been sleeping on the floor since I was 15 so I wouldn’t have to make my bed. On our free time we go on short hikes. Punakaiki is “home of the pancake rocks and blow holes” not as cool or appetizing as it sounds. We went to look at them when the weather was awful..raining with crazy strong winds, but it made the waves crashing against the rocks violent and maginificent. They are called pancake rocks because they develop in thin layers and tower out of the ground. I’ve also been running a lot which is difficult here due to the huge rolling hills. The only other things in Punakaiki are a pub, a café, and an information site. No grocery store, so they buy us food, which I am getting good and fat on:). Tamao has been teaching me Japanese phrases and is putting me in contact with some of her friends in Tokyo. She says my Japanese pronunciation is very cute—Arigato!

My last night in Punakaiki, James took a friend of his, Tamao and I to Murphy’s restaurant and bar in Greymouth where we drank and watched a few bands. The first one was AWFUL (sorry, but I hated it) and the main act was ok. The lyrics were just ridiculous being that they were trying to be serious. "There's a rock in your rockin' shoes" is just the tip of the iceberg. My favorite was the second band called Vorn. It is a one man band (a guy named Vorn) who looks like a life size version of a lawn gnome and plays the accordian and is absolutely hilarious; check out his myspace page http://www.myspace.com/vornmusic!

It's A Small World, After All (again)

2008-12-12T21:19:00.000-08:00

Three guys that worked in the Abel Tasman park in different areas brought me into Motueka, a nearby town, one after another (all quite cute, too!). Then, I got two more rides on the way to Westport. The weather was really nice, so I just walked along the road with my thumb out. One car pulled up and asked where I was going; when I told them they informed me that their destination was no where near mine...

" But it's not even in the same direction?"
"No, sorry!"

I've said this before, but there is basically one road going through New Zealand, so they obviously were going in the same direction. Their eyes were so bloodshot though, I'm pretty sure they were high, so needless to say I didn't want to take that opportunity, anyway.

Not even five minutes later, three Irish girls picked me up, who were also heading to the same town (a three hour drive). After riding for ten minutes, two calfs ran out into the street in front of us and down the road, nearly causing an accident. We took it upon ourselves to use the car to guide them back up the road to the farm they left from. When we got to the top a big sign said “BUTCHER,” Oh God, we felt awful ☹

About two hours into the drive, I mentioned something about my blog when one of the girls, Fiona, turned to me saying, “Oh my God! Do you run marathons?” Then Aisling turned around, “ We ate dinner together in Ecuador!” Remember when I said my entire hostel when out to eat in Guayaquil, Ecuador? (You should, being that I’m sure everyone reads each and every word I write….). Well, these girls stayed in my hostel that night; Guayaquil is a pretty random place to be in Ecuador and the fact that we were there together is just crazy.

I stayed with them at a hostel in Westport. The woman gave us a six person suite (with our own bathroom, kitchen, tv and garden) for dorm room prices! We watched tv for a while, which I haven’t done in forever, and then went out to the only open bar which sold pizzas and pitchers of beer for $7.50! When we got there they had already finished serving food, but we were starving, so the bartender gave us leftover pizza and microwaved some single serve meals for us—he even gave us a free loaf of bread! There were only really old men drunk on scotch in the bar; when we were finished eating we left so they could no longer try and hang on us…akward

The next day I went with the girls to do some more underworld caving adventures! We went tubing through incredibly bright glow worm caves and then down some river rapids! The glow worms live on the ceilings of caves; you lay back in your tube and it's like staring at a brilliantly green starry sky.

After that, I left the Irish girls and our guide drove me back to town. I then got picked up two more times, bringing me to Militon. Rosemary, the woman that picked me up, brought me part of the way to Karamea and dropped me off in her town. She then came back about five minutes later and insisted that I stay with her since it was later in the eventing and it might be difficult to get to Karamea before dark. She showed me around the town (Population 27), telling me all about its history with coalmining and showing me waterfalls before cooking me dinner talking with her fiancé, John. They’re quite the cute hippie couple—they are fixing up a house to rent out but live in a a “house-truck” which has gnomes and mushrooms painted by Rose on the sides. The next morning, I was chatting with Rose and John when I started viciously scratching my sandfly bites (47 counted on my feet alone due to the 90 minute beach wait in Abel Tasman); she immediately went into mom-mode and busted out a hot water basin to soak my feet in, as well as disinfectant and anti itch cream. She gave me a travel bottle full, as well as cotton balls to wipe on the liquid. Afterward, she drove me back to the road to continue on my way to Karamea.

The first guy brought me maybe 30km on my way and then dropped me off after a bridge that would be the best spot to get me on the rest of the way. I waited about twenty minutes, playing with stray roosters and waiting for a a friendly motorist. There is very little traffic on this road because Karamea is the last stop. Luckily, a nice gentleman looking for some good fishing was on his way to the same town and brought me all the way to the Rongo Backpacker Hostel. I arrived too late in the day to start hiking, so I hung around the hostel reading for the day. I woke up early the next morning to do two days of hiking on the Heaphy Track. I met a guy, Aaron, from California who was doing a day hike and had a car to bring us to the start of the track (about 16 km from the hostel). I hiked with him and a man from France, Bruno, for a few hours until Aaron had to turn around. Aaron is really into rock climbing, so when he was examining a nice area to climb, I decided to look around and the grass and flowers around me. I bent over and found a four leaf clover! I've looked for one for as long as I can remember and this is the first time I've succeeded! I was really excited, to say the least.

I hiked a total of 35 km along the coastline, across beaches and many suspended bridges where only one person could cross at a time! The trail headed up 300 meters through the bush to the Mckay hut where I slept for the night. I got up early the next day and realized I had finished off my food (a concoction of Muesili, peanut butter, and jelly). Luckily, the other girl in the hut was trying to get rid of food, so she gave me a bag of trail mix for my 8 hour trek back—thank God! The first day was sunny and beautiful, however, my trip back was a consistent cold downpour, which I did without a rain jacket because I’ve been too frugal and stubborn to purchase a new coat after my North Face was stolen in Ecuador. Since I kept moving, it wasn’t too bad. Once I finally got to the end, I realized that I had to keep walking since the weather had refrained people from camping at the edge of the track. After walking about four km, two guys who were doing pest control in the area (possums are a real problem here) drove by and gave me a ride back to the hostel. Horray for a hot shower and warm soup, not to mention, warm clothes!!

That night they were showing a movie in the hostel “Hair” everyone had to dress up in hippie attire. I didn’t really have anything with me, but they supplied many options such as scarves and colorful jackets and flowers to put in our hair (love children ☺ ) . I hung out with four middle aged couples who reminisced about the 60’s and 70’s whicle I sat back and smiled, having nothing to contribute besides the fact that I recognized the songs and read about the scocial lissues of that time in my history books.

So Long Stray! Hello Hitching!

2008-12-12T20:50:00.000-08:00

After two days on the phone with the corporate office of Stray (the tour bus company that was the bane of my existence), they finally let me cancel my trip and gave me a little money back--not a lot, but I take it as an accomplishment, regardless. I decided that i was going to hitchhike on the South Island. Now, I would never think twice about doing this in the United States, even in my suburban hometown for that matter, but I have talked to so many people that have used it as their mode of transportation that I figured I should try it.

I woke up at around 6 am in order to catch a three hour ferry to the South Island. Annaliese Rittershaus, my amazing friend from Spot, has family in the city, Nelson that was happy and willing to let me stay with them for a few nights. The ferry lands in Picton, which is about a two hour drive from Nelson. The bus driver from the ferry to the luggage terminal was very excited for me to attempt hitchhiking; he gave me a few tips and then sent me on my way.

I was walking for maybe five minutes when a white car pulled over and waved at me to jump in. An older woman, Katie, was also heading to Nelson and drove me the entire way. Amazing. She’s actually a neurologist from the states and working in New Zealand. We stopped in the town of Havelock, which is apparently the muscle capital of the world, and ate some of the biggest muscles I’ve ever seen, steamed in white wine and garlic. She even treated me—thanks, Katie!.

Once we were about three minutes out of Havelock she looks down and realizes that her gas gauge is on empty. We go back to Havelock and pull into the Shell station only to realize that it was closed. WHAT?? The next petrol station (their word for gas) was about 40 km away in Rie Valley. Luckily we made it there, but we were definitely worried.

Once in Nelson, Lisa Lynch, Annaliese’s aunt, picked me up and I went with her and her husband, Brian, as well as their kids Katja and Karamea to Lisa's friend’s house, Donn and Mary (lots of names in that sentence, I know). They just built a pizza oven in their back yard and Mary painted a giant board white to make an outdoor movie theatre—awesome! When we arrived, it was already cocktail hour—my favorite. We sat around drinking, chatting and consuming hoer d’vours until the sun went down and we could put on some movies. We basically just made our own outdoor concert filled with singing, dancing, and drinking—a few of the headliners were Abba, Bee Gees, and Supertramp.

The next day I went for a run and, you guessed it, got lost. What was meant to be an hour run turned into just short of two. Ugh, leave it to me to get lost when there is only one road. Somehow I missed the house and ran about twenty minutes out of the way—guh!

I stayed at Lisa and Brian’s place that night and they fed me a gorgeous dinner of Lamb steaks, garlic bread, and Greek salad to prepare me for my next day’s adventure—hiking the Abel Tasman Coast track.

Brian brought me to the bus stop at 6:30 am (thank-you so much!) and sent me on my way to Abel Tasman National Park. When I got there I had to repack my belongings, because I have way too much stuff with me to carry on a multiple day hike, and went on my way. I originally booked campsites along the way for a three day hike, however, I ended up walking most of the distance in one day (10 hours of hiking!). At the campsite, I met a German woman who invited me to sleep with her in her tent. Staying in huts costs $30 a night, whereas the campsites are only $12! I figured I’d save money by sleeping in my sleeping bag with a giant trash bags over me to keep me dry—luckily, I didn’t have to test that awful theory.

The next morning, I had to walk through Awaroa bay at a certain time in order to make low tide—otherwise, the water is too high. I had to take off my shoes and socks and walk across shallow rivers between muddy, shell filled beaches. I got to the end a day and a half earlier than I expected. I had to wait on Tontongo beach for an hour and a half for the aquataxi. This would be fantastic if there weren’t sandflies attacking me everywhere they could. I now have a giant scab on my foot from scratching too much—whoops. I’m telling you, these sandflies are more vicious than misquitos and their bite is itchier than the chicken pox.

The hike, itself, is too beautiful for words. Golden beaches and bright blue water--please check out my flickr site for the photos so you can see what I mean!

We rode back along the coast looking at rock formations and seals before finally getting back to Manahu. I grabbed my bags and started hitchhiking towards Karamea to hike the Heaphy track!

Northern Exposure

2008-11-13T16:20:00.000-08:00

Busy, busy, busy!!! I've been on a high-speed tour of New Zealand's North island for the past week and a half and now it's time to play blog catch up!

I sat around Auckland for a few days, resting up and relaxing in preparation for the Auckland Marathon. Lots of CARBS and water up until Sunday, November 2nd. Carbo-loading day is my favorite holiday:) It's basically an excuse to eat all the crap I usually try to avoid (Dominos, pastries, mmmm). I had to wake up at 3:30 am in order to catch a ferry across the Harbor into Davenport where the event began. A guy in my dorm room was gracious enough to play alarm clock and wake me up when he was getting back from the bars. When I left the hostel at 4:30 am, there were a surprising amount of drunk kids falling all over each other in the streets; some girl incoherently tried to tell me something when I walked into a convenience store for coffee--classy.

After getting myself properly caffeinated, I took the 15 minute ferry ride over to Davenport and wondered around the starting area doing everything that needs to be done before a race--stretch, people watch, chat with strangers, multiple port-a-potty visits, etc. 6:30 am came quite quickly and it was time to start running!

There were so many people dressed up! I'm not quite sure what it is about extreme physical exertion that makes people want to look so hilarious, but there were a lot of characters in this race. A few of the most memorable were two guys dressed up as Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble (WITH a cardboard replica of their prehistoric car), the entire cast of the Wizard of Oz, and, my personal favorite, Borat--IN the swimsuit.

Classic

I thought I was CRUISING. I mean, I had a lot of amazing music on my ipod thanks to Bry Riggs and Bradon Young, I was in a great mood, felt fantastic, there was a really cute guy in front of me that I was following--it was awesome! The first half of the marathon which brings everyone back into Auckland consists of continuous rolling hills. The second half is a 6.5 mile flat course along the harbor and back into downtown Auckland. I thought, I was doing really well; I hardly even walked which is HUGE for me (only to drink some gatorade at a few water stops). I even had a new power song to bring me across the finish line--R. Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly." That's right! I said it--I WENT there...R Kelly. It was amazing:) However. Not amazing enough to break four hours. Far from it actually; the final time was 4 hours and 36 minutes which is actually 30 minutes faster than Guayaquil (I finally found out that I actually ran that race in 5 hours and 6 minutes; weak:( ). I'm proud of myself for finishing; obviously. Now time for a little break before training for Thailand!

The next day, I got on the Stray Bus to start touring around New Zealand. There are numerous different tour busses that can bring you around the country; I am NOT happy with Stray right now, so for those of you planning on coming here--don't waste your money. Anyway, our first stop was in Hahei which is home of Cathedral Cove and Hot Water Beach. Cathedral Cove is a beautiful rock formation which can be found after hiking an hour along Hahei beach. Hot Water beach is quite crowded within an hour of low tide; people come and dig pools in the sand near the rocks which then fill up with hot water due to the areas geothermal activity. While walking around the rocks, one step could be ice cold and the next within inches might possibly scald your foot--the wonders of nature.

After Hahei I was back to Raglan for a few days. We arrived just in time to join everyone in the tv room to watch the US Election coverage!!! There was a group of about 10 Americans there, but everyone, no matter where they were from, was as eager and interested as we were to see the results. When CNN finally declared Obama to be the 44th President of the United States EVERYONE began celebrating. The owners of the hostel bought a case of champagne for everyone to share; I was in tears, it was so moving :) Needless to say, nearly the entire world was hoping that we would elect the Democratic candidate. I have yet to meet one person from anywhere (other than the United States) who was a McCain supporter.

I spent the next few days back in the Raglan Backpacker Hostel with Josh, Ryan, and Marissa (American buddies :) ) attempting to surf and reading in the sunshine. My last day in Raglan I woke up at eight in the morning in order to go for a hike. On my way out, two of the guys that work there, Thomas and Iain, were on their way surfing and coaxed me to join. Why not?? The waves were beautiful; nothing like I've ever tried to surf on and, therefor, I was quite scared. I found Josh on the beach and we let the more experienced guys go on their way. I basically spent the morning sitting, or lying rather, on my board watching everyone else catch waves. At one point, I noticed a bunch of people paddling their boards out further. When I tried to turn around a guy near me points behind me and told me to watch out. I looked up just in time to see a giant wave (large to me, at least) breaking on my face. After getting rocked by a few more waves in a row, I decided I was finished for the day. Josh then drove me to Te Toto Gorge in order for me to hike Mt. Karioi. The hike takes about three hours; it isn't really difficult, though a chain rope is needed in order to climb up a steep portion of the hike, but it's fun and has some incredibly beautiful scenic views. Once I arrived at the bottom, I suddenly had a huge burst of energy (I have no idea how that's possible), so I decided to run part of the way back to the hostel I ran about 8 kilometers (4.8 miles) and then hitchhiked home because there was a never ending incline in front of me that I was not in the mood to climb.

The next day Ryan, Marissa, and I got back on the bus and went to Waitomo where we toured some glowworm caves. This area has between 800 and 1000 caves within a 50 kilometer radius, all filled with glowworms, rock tunnels, and underground waterfalls. We all donned some pretty sexy wet-suits, giant white go-go looking boots, and helmets. We repelled down rock walls with waterfalls crashing down on our heads, army crawled through low tunnels with our faces in streams, squeezed through small windy spaces that I have no idea how my hips got through, and climbed up steep rock walls. We also sat in the dark to watch the neon green glowworms shining above us. BEAUTIFUL.

The next day we stopped in Rotorua which is known for its geothermal activity--the town REEKS of rotten eggs due to the sulfur, like the entire city decided to eat way too much dried fruit at the same time (graphic but true). Ryan, Marissa, and I wandered around the town and found the COOLEST park I've ever seen; definitely a step up from your classic swing-set. Then, I was introduced to Burger Fuel...the biggest burgers I've ever seen--literally the size of your head, with gourmet ingredients such as brie cheese and jalepeno aioli. Magical. That night we stayed in Taupo which has the country's largest lake, created from a giant volcanic eruption.

The next day was phenomenal. We spent the whole day hiking the Tongariro crossing. It took me a little over five hours to complete. You hike through snow, craters, forest, along crumbling rocks, up man made stairs. It's beautiful. The colors are stunning, especially the Emerald Lakes and Blue Lake. There are also waterfalls and hot springs--one stream flows through a Maori private land that is home to hot springs; the stream smells of sulfur and is actually very warm. This was another one of my favorite days of the trip, so far. If you are traveling to New Zealand, this hike is NOT TO BE MISSED.

Tomorrow, I get on a Ferry from Wellington to Picton--from the North to the South island. I am meeting up with Annaliese's Aunt and Uncle who are graciously letting me stay with them for a few days--I love NZ hospitality:)

AKWARD MOMENT

Everyone has to use the restroom before a marathon--at least two times, this is just how it works. You drink too much coffee, adrenaline and nerves kick in, whatever the case may be, ya gotta get in the EXTREMELY long port-a-potty line. I saw one line that was moving quite quickly so I hopped in the Q (that's what they call a line/wait list here). I was just looking around when I noticed that the majority of the line was filled with men; now, I have no problem being surrounded by a bunch of attractive Kiwis, but this just seemed odd. When it was almost my turn I finally focused on the oddly shaped outhouse only to realize that it was basically just a giant trough-like urinal. I mean, it was my turn and all, but just imagine the sight if I tried to pee in it; I would look pretty......

New Country: New Zealand

2008-10-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

Before I discuss my most recent adventures, my mother wanted me to take a moment to inform my readers of what "passing out" means. When I use this phrase in relation to an evening of inebriation, I do not mean that I randomly lost consciousness on the street/during conversation/etc.; I am simply implying "falling asleep."

Ok, now that that's out of the way, let's discuss my first week here in New Zealand. I arrived after what I believe to be about a 14 hour flight from Buenos Aires, Argentina (I fell asleep before the plane doors even shut, so I am not positive of the exact length) and arrived in Auckland at around 8:00 a.m. My first day in the city was a bit of a waste because I was severely jet lagged; I attempted to walk around, but I basically just ate lunch in front of the water and then watched hours of Family Guy in the hostel common room.

The next day I went for a run and then walked around the city--central Auckland is small, extremely, clean, and the people are very friendly. It was a nice change of pace going from being consistently vulgarly heckled in South America, to being completely left alone. Later that day I saw a familiar face in my hostel. Josh Koshar, a guy I had met at Boston University a few times through mutual friends, walked by me while I was on my laptop. I wasn't absolutely positive it was him, so I sent a massage through the ever useful Facebook saying, "This might sound nuts-o, and I'm not even sure if you remember me, but I think I just saw you in my NZ hostel."

He then wrote back saying, "I think I'm looking at you." A moment later I heard a girl yell my name from across the room and when I looked up he was sitting at a computer near me! Small world. He and I then went out for a drink to catch up. We then met two other Americans from California (Garrett and Bradon) in our hostel and we all decided to drink and hang out in the hot tub on the roof of our hostel before going out.

We first attempted to go to a bar called cowboys and Indians; however, two of the guys we were with weren't dressed properly so we left and went to another bar with live music. The California boys were making fun of my leisurely drinking pace and told me I had to go to the corner until I finished my drink. Instead, I saw down with some very attractive locals (for the rest of that story, see my Awkward moment) until it was time to leave. Next stop, Family, a gay dance club. SO. MUCH. FUN. We stayed there until around 4 a.m. and then wondered back home.

The next morning, I took a free Auckland day bus tour that showed us parks and volcanoes around the city. We stopped for some delicious fish and chips (french fries) and when I got back to the hostel it was hot tub time, again! I hung out with Bradon and two Swedish girls in the pouring rain for a few hours, then went to bed.

The next day, Josh and I left in his car for a surf town a few hours South called Raglan--part of the movie, "Endless Summer" was filmed here. The first two nights, we slept in his car; one night at a campground and the second, parked on a cliff overlooking the surfing beach. The view was absolutely stunning; the sky was perfectly clear of clouds and we had an undisturbed view of the Southern Hemisphere's night sky--I haven't seen that many stars since I lived in the boonies of Minnesota.

We wondered around the first two days; we took some scenic drives, hiked down Bridal falls, and spent way too much time at the local coffee shop, Tongue and Groove. For the next two nights, we stayed at the Backpacker Hostel--everyone there is very friendly and laid back, "on Raglan time" as they like to call it. We attempted to go surfing that third day; it was a lot of fun, but I definitely need more practice seeing as how I never stood up for longer than a second.

The next day, I went with another Kelly, from Maine, to visit a local Maori Eco-farm (Maori are the indigenous people of New Zealand). It was very interesting to see how self-sufficient people on these farms are; I am currently reading Omnivore's Dilemma; the comparison between the American diet and how it's produced with those on Eco-farms is mind-boggling (I highly suggest everyone read this book to understand what you are putting in your body as well as your family's).

The weather wasn't as cheery as one would like it to be in a surf town, so I hung out with Manon (from Canada) and a few others in the hostel drinking wine and chit-chatting. The next day, I was on a bus back to Auckland where I am currently sitting, preparing for my next international marathon in t-minus 3 days!

AWKWARD MOMENT

I do not have game (read; any smooth ability to hit on a guy). Seriously. I just cant. While at a bar in Auckland, sitting with extremely attractive local guys, I...God this embarrassing...ask for an e-mail address. Who DOES that???? In my defense, I thought my phone was stolen from the hostel and i was playing the "oh, you're from here: Do you have any suggestions for what I should do?" game...but still. An e-mail address??!!!?? That is so...

Under construction

2008-10-22T20:13:00.000-07:00

The previous few entries are lacking in photos right now, which I apologize for. The internet connection in this hostel is pretty weak--I will add photos soon, but for now, enjoy the stories!

My new favorite city

2008-10-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

Buenos Aires, Argentina; oh how I wish I had more than three days here! I arrived at about 8:00 am and took a very expensive cab ride to a hostel in Palermo ( a trendy neighborhood of Buenos Aires where Erin Kelly told me to stay--thanks, lady) called Palermo House. Being that I didn't have a reservation, I ended up waiting until around four PM. for a bed. Sounds annoying, but I had a lot of picture uploading, for your pleasure, being that my computer works again--HORRAY! I met a guy in the hotel from Sweden, Johan, who was very hungover--I helped him recuperate the best way I know how, to start drinking again:) We drank a few bottles of the local beer, Quilmes while hanging out and socializing with the other kids in the hostel. An Irish girl, Mazy, knew some people that owned a local bar; I went with her and a guy from Wisconsin that works at the hostel, Simms for some food and adult beverages. The atmosphere was really cool, very dark, red lights, and exposed brick everywhere. At about 11 pm I went back to the hostel and passed out.

I got up at around 8:30 and went for an 9-10 mile run around the parks. So many people were out running, roller-blading, biking, dog walking--it was amazing. I am so moved by a city that is so positively active and social--I couldn't help but smile the whole time and say "hola" to people I ran past.

When I got back, some girls from the hostel were going to some open air markets in Recoletta and asked me to come along. It was such a beautiful day; warm and sunny. Then, I went to the Recoletta cemetary where Eva Peron is burried (think Evita)- it looks like a small town. Every grave is a large intricate statue with figurines and stained glass windows that are in rows like sreets. Then I walked back through the city, about an hour, where I met up with two other girls to go to dinner at a fancy restaurant called Sugar--Martinis, wine, and STEAK (Argentina is known for their delicious beef). We went back to the hostel and all drank for a while and then went to nearby rooftop house party with about fifteen other people. We stayed up until maybe 5 am (which is actually early to stop partying in BA).

I spent my last day in Buenos Aires wondering around a giant market in San Telmo; there are hundred of stands, street performers, food, and dancers--my favorite was a group with three violins, one viola, a bass, one piano, and four accordions, they were amazing!

FOOD CORNER

I didn't consume anything strange, but my steak was TO-DIE-FOR. Medium rare to perfection, and so tender I could have cut it with a fork!

Taste: 5+++++

Aftertaste: 1

AKWARD MOMENT

The night we all went to the rooftop party, I passed out on the couch in the common room. I was told in the morning that when they tried to wake me up and put me to bed I kept saying "no, I don't trust the guys that work here." I have no recollection of this and actually felt very safe in the hostel; I'm not quite sure what I was dreaming about but the whole thing was pretty...

Lima Bean

2008-10-22T18:55:00.000-07:00

After my day o' waterfalls, I had dinner with my dorm-mate, Jenna, who is also from Canada. We went out for pizza (not quite local fare, but whatever, I can't eat crazy things all the time) and drank some beer until I had to get on my midnight bus ride. This was the start of my 36 hour trip via bus to Lima, Peru. I rode overnight to Guayaquil, and changed there for another bus to Piura, Peru.

On this bus I met a very friendly couple from California who were seasoned travelers and had a lot of advice for me for the rest of my trip and upcoming destinations. It was a good thing that I met them, because we had to get off of the bus for Immigration twice (once for our stamp leaving Ecuador and once for entering Peru). I had no idea what was going on, where to go, or even where our bus was once I was finished. They were very helpful, waiting for me to get everything situated so I didn't get lost. I also met an older woman from Ecuador, Fanny, who was very eager to talk to me in order to practice her english. She told me that she has been away from her husband for eight years; he is in New York City working while she stays at home taking care of their three children--he can't come home and she can't visit him due to visa and passport difficulties (really puts our bubbled American lives into perspective, doesn't it?).

Once in Piura, I got on yet another bus to Lima. I told the driver of my previous bus that I needed transportation that was safe for a young, blonde, American to ride over night. He said no problem and put me in a cab. When the driver dropped me off, I initially didn't want to get out of the car; the area was dark and I didn't see a bus or anyone in a line. I asked him again if this was definitely safe for me and he assure me it was. I purchased my ticket and was sent to the back of the office where the bus was loading. BALLER!!! This bus was a double decker; my seat was on the top right behind the front window the an amazing view of the drive. The seats was comfortable and huge (plus no one was sitting next to me so I could lie down), they gave us pillows, AND dinner and breakfast. Thanks for the hook up!

At 8:00 am I finally arrived in Lima, Peru. Luckily, the bus terminal had an internet cafe in it, so I could even look up directions to the hostel in Miraflores where I was told to stay at--lucky, lucky me. I walked in without a reservation (again) and they had an open bed--no problem! I instantly met a few girls in my room that were heading off to the Inca markets to go shopping and asked me to join; nothing like friendly travelers :). We wondered around for the day and later that evening decided to go get dinner down by the water. We went to the Marriott Hotel for drinks, first, because they were told by some other travelers that that was the place to go for some amazing passion fruit pisco drinks. Now, my last experience with pisco was less than to be desired, but I figured I'd try it again. MMMMMM, so good! They had numerous house infused flavors, as well. I tried one that was infused with hot peppers, celery, and an excessive amount of black pepper--it took the three of us 15 minutes to finish one shot because it was SO spicy (but would make a phenomenal Bloody Mary). Afterwards we walked along the Pacific Ocean in a failed attempt to find a restaurant. We wondered for a while and then headed back towards the hostel where we knew we could find some food.

The next day I got up early and went to GOLD'S GYM!! Sadly, I was quite excited to find a really good gym (which is all over the United states), and I went to run on a treadmill and take a spinning class. When I got back to the hostel I met a Aruk from London who was taking a trip to central Lima. I was doing the same so we went exploring the historical sights together. We walked through the Plaza Mayor, Government Plaza, and through the San Francisco convent where you tour a beautiful church and walk through underground catacombs. After that, I found a restaurant that served Cuy--I have been looking for this since I arrived in South America. It was delicious :) That was basically the end of my short adventure in Peru. A few hours later I got on my plane to Argentina!

FOOD CORNER

CUY!!!!!! OK, this is apparently the national dish of Ecuador and a delicacy in both Ecaudor and Peru. That's right, kids, I ate Guinnea pig!! The internal organs are removed and everything else remains (head, ribs, claws); then, it is battered and deep fried, served with an ear of moté, salad, and baked potatoes. It literally tastes like Kentucky Fried Chicken. I washed it all down with a local beer, Cristal :)

Taste: 5

Aftertaste: 1

#2 For lunch the day before I had what I knew was some part of a chicken and french fries. Later I found out that it was the esophagus--chewy and a little crunchy but once you get over the texture, not too bad.

Taste: 3

Aftertaste:2 (it was extremely salty and I got a little nauseous, but once I consumed some chocolate I felt a lot better:))

I need to use the Baños

2008-10-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

After I left the Amazon I headed to Baños, Ecuador, which is known for its natural beauty and hot springs. At first, I was a little bummed because I got there too late to do any of the tours, so I just wondered around the small city for a while eating local food and people watching. I ran into a couple from Canada that I met in the Guayaquíl hostel and they invited me to join them to rent "quads" (four-wheelers) and drive down the waterfall route. DONE!

The next day may very well have been my favorite day of my trip so far. I woke up at about 6:30 am and went for a run around the small city looking at the surrounding mountains and volcanos. Afterwards, I went to the Virgin Baths, which is a cement pool where the local hot springs flow into for everyone's enjoyment. The steaming water was already quite full of people, despite how early in the morning it was. The water was so soothing (due to the heat and the extensive mineral content) and the view of the Tangurahua volcano and a backdrop of a waterfall falling from the Ecuadorian Andes was nothing less than stunning.

After my quick dip in nature's sauna, I went back to my hostel for a health bath. For 45 minutes you alternated between sitting in a steam box and cooling your body in different ways--sitting in ice cold water (this part included a bowel massage, not as gross and invasive as it sounds), running freezing-wet towels over your body, being hosed down, etc. Once I was relaxed and refreshed, I met up with the Canadian couple to rent a couple quads and we were on our way.

I would first like to note the condition of my death-trap vehicle (which would be absolutely unacceptable to be rented by US standards....sorry you have to read this, Mom :) ) The fender was sewn on with plastic wiring, the breaks were AWFUL (especially when it started raining, I was skidding all over the place) the headlights were incredibly weak (we drove through tunnels without lighting and I seriously could not see anything; I could have hit a wall and wouldn't know it until the impact) and the alignment was worse than the '89 Cadillac I drove in high school.

We traveled down a windy road through tunnels dark as night (literally no lights) in order to find different waterfalls and activities. We hiked down a few waterfalls, my favorites being Macay and Pailon del Diablo. At the Diablo, you can climb under a low cave to actually stand behind the waterfall. We also stopped at a bridge that overlooks another waterfall where you can be attached to a bungee type cord and jump off the bride to swing over the water. Of course, I can't say no to an adrenaline rush, so I paid my ten dollars and was wrapped into a harness and took the plunge.

I never knew I could scream like such a girl.

It was amazing! The jumping is, of course, the most difficult part; I swung back and forth over the water...the view was amazing.

FOOD CORNER

Yay, street food! I purchased a plastic bag of Moté, which is basically GIANT corn kernels, that had some sort of meat-gristle-gravy over it....delicious.

Taste: 5 (starchy and salty, can't go wrong)

Aftertaste: 1

AKWARD MOMENT

By the time we got to the Macay waterfall, we had been rained on for quite some time and I was freezing. For those of you who know me well, you know that when I get cold my fingers and toes instantly lose circulation and turn white as snow. After we parked our vehicles we sat at a table outside of a house that was selling beverages and food. The woman who lived there looked at my hands put hers next to mine laughing and saying "you're so white! You look like you're dead!"

Thanks...

Amaz(on)ing Jungle Boogie

2008-10-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

The next morning I got on a bus back to Quito in order to catch yet another 8 hour bus to Lago Agrio to start my five day trip in the Amazon Jungle. My bus out of Quito left at 11 pm. When I woke up at around 2:30 am the bus was stopped on the side of the road and had been sitting there for quite a while. Turns out the bus broke down and they were going to just SIT on the side of the road until eight AM when the next bus drove by. Needless to say, the entire busload of people were not pleased. I started asking around to find other people traveling to the Amazon; a woman behind me from Spain, Ana, told me to stick with her and her friends and we'll all figure out how to get to the camp. After the bus broke down THREE more times, we finally arrived at our destination at 10:30 am.

A van was waiting to pick us up and drove us another two hours to the village of Cuyabeno. There, we got on a motor-canoe for another two hours that brought us down the narrow, windy Cuyabeno River to our campsite. When we got there I found out that I didn't actually have a group (thank you, Happy Gringo, for lying to me); so Ana told me to stay with her and her five other friends from Spain. I ended up staying in a group with them for four days speaking mostly Spanish with them and our Spanish guide. I had the option, at the end of the first day, to switch to an English speaking group, however, being that I have had about

six years of education in the Spanish language, I figured it would be a good learning experience to put my rusty knowledge to good use.

That first night, we went for a night hike into the jungle, looking at plants, animals (mostly frogs and birds) and insects. The next day we went on a three hour hike, fished for piranas, and canoed along the river in search of Alligators (Caiman). Two of Ana's friends and I jumped into the Lagoon and swam around for a while (I am a pretty weak swimmer, but didn't drown or get stung by Sting Rays so I consider it a successful A + experience).

Pirana fishing is interesting--you basically have a long thin tree branch,

like what you'd use to roast marshmallows, that has a string and a hook attached. Instead of waiting patiently and quietly for a bit like the lake fishing I know and love, you actually thrash the end of the pole around in the water like "struggling prey." I had no success that evening, but ended up catching four my last day in the Amazon when I paddled around the river for four hours with my own personal guide.

Afterwards, we watched the sunset and took the boat around the river in the dark in order to search for Caiman and other nocturnal animals. We found a few, however, they were significantly smaller than anticipated.

The next day we left the camp at 6:45 am in order to bird watch before breakfast. Afterwards we took the boat back out to visit the indigenous community a few hours down the river. There, we walked their their "farm" (for lack of a better word) where they grow Yuca, Cocao, and many medicinal plants. We met a 92 year old Shaman, Criollo, and his wife, Victoriano, who taught us about preparing Yuca to eat. Yuca is a white root that is g

round up on what looks like a cheese grater. It is then placed in a giant braid of Palm leaves to ring out all of the excess water. Victoriano then sifted the ground Yuca into a flour and spread it on a round pizza-like pan over a fire to make Yuca bread. On this we placed baked bananas (Platinos), honey, and tuna (all separately, of course). We also drink Chicha, which is beer made from fermented Yuca flour and water. After we ate, Criollo dressed in traditional, native clothing and gave a small demonstration of a healing ceremony which includes dancing and chanting (this usually takes place for an entire night, but the demonstration was only for five minutes). Our final event with the Shaman was to try our hands at the six foot blowgun--this time I hit the target!

The final day, I was all by myself . I went paddling around the river with a personal guide to fish for Piranas and look at wildlife. Afterwards, I joined the English speaking group (because my beautiful Spaniards left the night before) for more fishing and swimming. I also saw a lot of snakes, frogs, more bugs, pink dolphins, lizards, and MONKEYS. I ate my final three course meal of the trip (they fed us like crazy; three, three course meals of homemade food and fresh fruit juice a day) and was on my way back to civilization.

AKWARD MOMENT

The lodge I stayed at has a domesticated six month old monkey named Pancha that hangs out at the camp. She is there because a group of tourists tried to smuggle her out of the jungle in order to see her as a pet. Now, she hangs around clinging to whomever she wishes (loves perching on someone's shoulder with her paws dug their hair and her tail wrapped around their neck--this happened to me often), and she also loves stealing food from the dinner table. One night she decided to try and steal my food; one of the guides went to grab her and instead of fleeing, she wrapped around my arm, clinging for dear life. He tried pulling her off of me and upon doing so, she started screaming loudly like a four year old girl for a solid minute. Everyone at the camp was staring at this ridiculous sight while I just sat there with a man and a monkey playing tug of war with my arm......

#2 While drinking the Chicha, the Shaman told us a little story about a saying they have in his village. Chicha is traditional drink to consume on one's wedding night, "Chicha then chucha, chicha then chucha." Now, I've already told you what chicha means...can you guess what chucha is? Coming from a 92 year old man this is both hilarious and ....

FOOD CORNER

So, this Chicha, to me, is a bit unpleasant. Now, everyone has their personal culinary preferences, but to me, it tasted like a very warm, floury, pulpy beverage with a beer-like aftertaste. Not my cup of tea.

Taste: 2

Aftertaste:1 (no adverse consequences, as of yet)

#2 I don't know the exact name of the insect, but we consumed some ants which crawl on a certain plant that have a sour, lemon flavor. This flavor protects them and the plant from being consumed by predators due to their repulsive acidity.

Taste: 3

Aftertaste: 1

Guayaquil for a Klondike Bar

2008-10-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

The day after Cotopaxi I got on 10 hour long bus ride number two between Quito and Guayaquil, Ecuador. A woman from Colombia, Claudia, sat next to me and we started practicing Spanish and English with one another. When we arrived in Guayaquil it was dark and Claudia was extremely nervous for me to get a cab and to my hostel safely. She took off in a cab and waved good-bye while I asked numerous cabs if they knew where my hostel was. I was having no luck when she showed back up in her taxi and had me get in with her. She made sure the driver knew where my place was and gave me her number incase of any problems!

However, the cab driver DIDN'T actually know where the hostel was.

We drove around, asking numerous pedestrians if they knew. After failing multiple times, he pulled over to a pay phone and called the owner of my Quito hostel to get directions. Finally, about an hour later we pulled up to the door and I was given a room at the Dreamkapture Hostel.

The next day I met the hostel manager, Isabelle, and we started talking about my trip and what I was doing. We bonded over the need for charity work; she has been doing a lot with her own organization. She even put some information about me and a link to this blog on the Dreamkapture website under "friend of the week" :)

Afterwards, I wondered around the city. Mainly, I walked down the Malecon; it's a long strip along the Guayas river with statues, shopping, restaurants, a botanical garden, and local markets selling everything imaginable. I then spent some time at their contemporary art museum, Banco Central, where I took a lot of pictures (note: museums don't allow photography inside--whoops).

After spending some much needed time in the air-conditioning, I ventured back outside to walk up the 500 stairs to the top of the Cerro Santa Ana. There are bars, shops, restaurants, and historical statues all the way to the top where the Iglesia Santo Domingo sits. On my way back down I was trying to find somewhere to each with a pretty view of the river and city; however, I tend to be quite indecisive. While walking up and down the stairs I noticed two guys watching me wonder; one said hello (which happens often) and when he asked where I was from and I said Boston he informed me that he actually grew up in NYC and owns the bar behind him. I ended up sitting there, drinking free Pilsner, and chatting with him for a few hours, after which he had his personal driver bring me back to Dreamkapture. When I got back I was sta

rving but was afraid to venture out in the dark alone; luckily, I met some really cool Irish and British boys who made me dinner (I guess chivalry isn't dead!)

Two days later, I had to wake up at 3:30 am in order to get ready for my first international marathon!!!!! I met another woman in the hostel the night before who was running the half marathon, so we went to the starting line together. This in and of itself was quite difficult because we were a)walking around in the dark looking for a cab b) no cabs wanted to do work c) we had no idea where the starting line was really located. Luckily, we finally found a guy to bring us and at 5:30 am the race began!

The first hour and a half we were running by the light of the moon and sporadic lampposts. The city was so calm; there was no traffic at this point and all you could hear was the sound of the Guayas River. Once my running buddy left me, it was time to take a turn out into the suburbs of Guayaquil. The rest of the course is on a four lane highway; the far left lane is blocked off for runners by a police officer standing in the middle of the road nearly every block. There was one point where the course turns off to do a 3 mile loop down a side street; I would have missed it completely because one officer told me to keep going, however, I saw two runners in front of me asking the next person and he, after thinking a few seconds and looking around, told us to turn off. Not the most organized of races, but entertaining, nonetheless!

There weren't very many people running, only a few hundred--my number was 51 which is crazy being that usually I'm in the thousands--and I'm pretty sure I was one of maybe three Americans. Random fans were yelling "Go Gringa!" and there was a large group of Swedish runners who embraced me as well, probably assuming I was part of their group being tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and fair-skinned:) I had my final Ipod song, "Sweet Caroline" carry me across the finish line (Boston love!!) as I finished just in front of two women over twice my age (sad) at a very, extremely slow pace, of around four hours and 40 minutes. Ouch. I ran the Boston marathon faster with Bronchitis-like symptoms. They were already giving out medals and rolling up finisher tents by the time I crossed the finish line...haha. At least they still had a t-shirt and a medal for me. International Marathon Number 1= Success!!!

AKWARD MOMENT

After finishing the marathon, I needed to hail a cab to get back to my hostel. Stupid me, I forgot to bring along their business card with the address on it. Luckily I had a vague idea of where the hostel was, so I tried to get a cab to bring me. Now, in Ecuador you have to negotiate a price before you get into the cab or they'll charge you crazy amounts. I only had three dollars on me (cabs in South America are CRAZY cheap), however, the drivers I was talking to continually tried to charge me around Five. I almost started crying being that all I wanted to do was lie down in my hostel and no one would take me home. Finally, I found one man who would take me. This whole time I was getting a little stressed out in front of a lot of people (there was a carnival going on outside of the finish line)...they all probably though I was crazy because I was walking in circles and pouting which is a little....

#2 The night of the marathon I face planted in my bed for ten hours straight. When I woke up the next working my eyes were so puffy I looked like Quasimodo. Isabella gasped when she saw me because she thought I had a local virus called Picha. Nope, just tired, puffy eyes....

FOOD CORNER

I didn't eat anything too crazy or adventurous, however, I went with my European boys to see "Stepbrothers" at the local mall and afterwards we went to get some grub at the food court. I found that you can walk around the mall with Pilsner beer, no problem. I found this hilarious being that you can't walk around with alcohol in malls in the states so I played like a good local and ordered myself a cerveza. Mmmmm.

Taste: 5 (umm...it's beer)

Aftertaste: 1 (My body knows how to digest this, no problem)

Lazy Lady writes again!

2008-10-21T19:33:00.000-07:00

Ok...so it's been a while...and I'm sorry.

I'm going to try and recall everything entertaining I've been doing in the last three weeks in some shorter blogs to try and catch up My computer stopped working when I went into the Amazon Jungle (story to come), and I've been taking a lot of short trips and long bus rides. Now, I am finally in a solid destination for the next 8 weeks, here in the beautiful country of New Zealand, and my computer has resurrected itself from the dead, so I shall commence correspondence.

First off, Cotopaxi!

I took myself on a little day trip to hike the world's highest active volcano, Cotopaxi, which is a few hours bus ride outside of Quito. And by hike, I mean be driven up part way, walk a little, then get picked up again...

I got on a bus at about 8:00 am to go to the volcano. Now, I really had no idea where I was going or what I was doing, however, I got on the correct bus and told the driver where I needed to get off in hopes that he wouldn't pass over my stop. After passing out on the bus for a little while, I woke up disoriented and not quite sure where I was or where I needed to be. Within minutes an Ecuadorian man behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was going to Cotopaxi. I, of course, said yes and asked him if he knew bc I was the only blonde/American on the bus....he laughed and said yes and then made sure I was let off at the right spot. Thanks, stranger!

I got a little swindled by the shanty that I presumed to be the entrance. My spanish only gets me so far, but I knew going in that I had to pay to get into the park. One guy drove me up and I ended up having to pay him and the entrance fee. I was frustrated so I told him I wanted get out and walk. After saying this a few times, I finally got my way. I walked along some valleys and through some paths, trying to find a Lagoon. After walking a few hours and finding nothing I started to get rained on. A little while later another car came by with an Israeli couple in it; they asked me if I wanted a ride to the top and I decided that, being that I wasn't properly dressed for poor weather by any means, I might as well get in.

Good thing too, because that Lagoon was yet another 15 minutes of driving. Plus, being that I was getting a ride, I actually got to see SNOW! We drove as far up as possible to a refugee camp. This is where people usually stay for the night before they attempt to hike to the summit. Being that I only had this one day to hike, I had to take the lazy man's trip, but I'm so glad I did!! The Israeli couple was amazing. We all worked together to find a bus to get back to Quito and they even paid for my taxi cab ride home. The mother was very concerned for my safety as a solo traveler, but said that she had two kids doing the same thing and understood why I was on this trip. It was nice to have some parental figures around for a few hours.

AKWARD MOMENT

After we got on the bus back to Quito, we found out that there were no open seats. I don't really mind standing, but the Israeli couple wanted to sit so two men got up and gave them their seats (such gentlemen). Then, the co-driver (the other bus employee that takes fares and gets people on and off the bus) told me that there was a seat in the front. Little did I know, he was having me sit on a bench awkwardly between him and the driver. This is a piece of wood with a blanket placed over it, no arm rest, no seat belt, not even something for me to rest my back against. Then, my favorite part of every conversation with South American men....

Do you have a boyfriend?

umm...yes

Where is he?

He's...um...in the hostel...I like my alone time

How do you like Ecuadorian men?

Well, I think you're all very aggressive

YEAH! (High five)

....I personally didn't mean that as a good thing, but then I pretended like I was falling asleep because the entire situation was very.....

Weekend Avengers' Adventures

2008-09-29T15:05:00.000-07:00

Every Saturday, a town a few hours out of Quito, Otavalo, holds a giant market full of everything you could imagine. I mean, everything. There are endless stands of scarves, blankets, jewelry, toys, art, shoes, ponchos, Panama hats, UNDERWEAR (umm, ew), and electronics. Then, there are an abundance of stands selling food (my favorite!). Now, you have your basic fruits and vegetables that anyone around the world can recognize--tomatoes, lettuce, oranges, etc--but mixed in are all the local fruits and vegetables that I have never seen or heard of. Juice is very popular here; everyone orders it when they go out to eat or buy a cup from street vendors--my favorite is naranjilla (very similar to an orange). However, I also tried passion fruit and guava, so far. Also, there are animal parts everywhere; piles of chicken feet, bowls of lard, and pig's heads are on display throughout the market.

Some other fruits consumed were oritos (finger bananas, flavor of a ripe banana with a more solid texture) and gronsella which looks like a mini lime green pumpkin and is SO sour, my mouth and throat completely dried out.

I also ate Yuca bread which was sold to us outside of the car window at a gas station. Yuca is a white root which is cooked in numerous different ways. It is very starchy and tastes like a sweeter potato.

After spending time at the market, Federico brou

ght Paul and I to a few large lakes near the indigenous city. We ate overlooking the water at San Paulo; no one knows exactly how deep this lake is, yet there is an annual race from one side to another in the freezing water. This lake also has cabins that are available to rent (CRAZY cheap, around 80 dollars for a family for the weekend, including meals). There are many beautiful flowers

, horses, and a playground for children where I found this

------------------------------------------>

now I know why I came to Ecuador:)

On Sunday, I rented bikes with a few guys from the hostel and rode around the city for a few hours. This isn't as relaxing as it seems. The rental fee was 5 dollars for

three hour...CHEAP, however, the bike was definitely nothing special. Though it was supposed to have 18 gears, only two worked, making traveling at high speeds quite difficult; riding with traffic was frighte

ning because A) they drive crazier than in Boston and B) I could only move so quickly due to the lack of higher gears and C) some of the hills are quite large (think almost the level of San Francisco). I hate to admit that I had to walk my bike at some points--I'll just blame it on the altitude :). We had a lot of fun though, traveling through old town and new town while looking at significant churches and sights. Even though I put on a bunch of sun-block, my back was fried and still is :(

Yesterday, Michael (a guy in my room from Australia) and I went to the Teleferico which is a cable car that brings you to the summit of Cruz Loma and to the skirts of the Pichincha

volcano, allowing you to see 14 peaks of the Andes from a height of 4050 meters. We hiked about halfway to the summit of Pichincha and decided to turn around--we weren't really dressed for the snow that we were starting to see and dark clouds were rolling in on top of us so we decided to cut our losses and roll out.

FOOD CORNER

Though I talked about a lot of foods, I think the most interesting was the Guava fruit. This is nothing like what we are used to in the states...what we consider Guava is actually Guayaba. Guava looks like a giant pea pod and holds white fruit that are furry on the outside yet have a very slimy texture. There is a large brown seed in the middle that looks like a cockroach. The fruit itself was mildy sweet and almost milky. One was ok, but I couldn't bring myself to consume any more; I gave the rest to a little girl running around the market.

Taste- 2

Aftertaste-1

AKWARD MOMENT

Now, I'm pretty used to being stared at here, being that a tall, fair, blonde American woman sticks out like prostitute in church, however, this unwanted attention usually comes from overly aggressive men that think my pants will drop if they make kissy noises in my ear or yell "Ay Mami!!" However, while biking around, children left and right were yelling and pointing "Gringa, Gringa!!" This basically means, American, usually not offensive, but having so many children noticing me was, well......

Apparently, the world revolves around me :)

2008-09-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

Yesturday, Federico brought me to El Mitad del Mundo--the center of the world. The equator runs through a part of Quito; a small historical site has been built over the area in order to provide tours teaching the history and importance of Ecuador. I'll save you the in-depth history (mostly because I will probably reiterate it incorrectly, get the real scoop here), however, I do want to share some of the awesome experiments we conducted.

First, a group of about 12 of us learned about the indigenous tribes who previously inhabited Ecuador; this includes, putting on a headdress and shooting a needle through a six foot blow gun and learning how to create a shrinking head. Also, for "primitive" people, they sure were intelligent; their huts' walls were constructed from a type of natural cement (mud, water, animal excriments), between bamboo poles--this kept the inside significantly cooler than the actual temperature and also allowed the hut to be able to bend and twist in the event of an earthquake. The rooftops were made of straw/grass--they cooked inside the hut and instead of using a chimney they allowed the smoke to rise to the grass which caused it to become water resistant--genius!

OK, enough learning here, time for experiments! When we finally got down to the equator line our guide showed us a water basin sitting exactly on the equator; when she pulled the plug out of the bottom, the water poured straight down. Then she moved the water basin a few feet to the South...the water then drained clockwise, and 5 feet over to the North...counterclockwise!!!! The energy of the earth is a strange and powerful thing. I tried to walk along the Equator line, eyes closed, arms out, one foot in front of the other--I couldn't do it! I could strongly feel the pull of each hemisphere on me and I nearly fell over. It's very moving to feel so connected to nature (ok, so there's a little hippy in me, deal with it:) ).

We did a few other experiments, but this next one tied for the blue ribbon. An older gentleman from Australia, about 250 lbs and 6 foot 5, sat on a stool on the equator line, then, four girls (myself included) folded our hands into the shape of a gun (interlacing all fingers with the pointers facing out). Two women put their fingers under his arms and another woman and I put ours under his knees and we LIFTED him...8 fingers...that's like 31.25 pounds per finger! Hot damn!

Later that night Federico brought Paul, another guy in my hostel, and myself to his friend's bar "Este Cafe". We sat there and got our drink on, being that for the next three days the country is dry due to Saturday's vote on a new constitution. Afterwards, we went to a bar/club called Bungalow 6, right around the corner from our Hostel (apparently I'm in the party place to be), where I met a Danish girl who studied abroad in Boston (small world!). She brought me back to meet all of her friends and we hung out and drank Caipirinhias...similar to a Mojito but made with, Cachaca, a Brazilian rum which is crazy strong (always seems like a good idea at the time).

Today was pretty low key. I got up early (with a splitting headache, thank you Mr. Bartender), and attempted to go for a run---hahah BAD IDEA. I apparently am not yet acclimated to the altitude; my lungs are still on fire. I then went wondering around Old Town. Checked out a bunch of GORGEOUS churches, including the Basilica. They are all extremely detailed; extensive stained glass windows, wood carvings, gold statues, tiled floors and ceilings. I walked to the top of the tower to see the view of Quito (that's right kids, I walked up a LOT of stairs, don't expect it to happen again). After I was done with viewing Jesus on the cross in numerous different areas of town, I decided to sit in one of the plazas and listen to some live music. I was there maybe 5 minutes and had a 15 year old boy hitting on me and an old man asking if I had a novio. Needless to say, I left, churro in hand (mmm sugary fried dough), and went back to the hostel. Good day!

FOOD CORNER

Last night, I drank a liquor called Pisco. It originates from Venezuela and is made from grapes. It's usually mixed either with coke or sour mix--tastes a lot lot Ouzo. guh

Taste- 1.5

Aftertaste-1.5 (due to headache)

AWKWARD MOMENT

I sat in a little plaza listening to some live music after touring way too many churches. A younger guy, probably around 17, was trying to see the artist's CDs. After telling him multiple times, no, gracias, he decided to sit down next to me and work his magic. Now, he wasn't being too aggressive or anything, however, my conversational Spanish isn't at the level it should be. I lied about having a boyfriend at the hostel and he finally left me alone. Maybe two minutes later an older gentleman sitting near me (mid 50's, at least) attempted his own techniques. Again, he was very polite, just forceful and, well....awkward.

I'll never Quito!

2008-09-25T06:25:00.000-07:00

I made it! Lesson 1 learned very quickly-Pay attention!!!!!! Don't worry, nothing has been stolen and I haven't been physically or emotionally attacked--I learned this at the Logan Airport in Boston. Kate Levinter brought me to the airport at 9 in the morning (thanks, Lady!) and when we arrived at the airport I completely blanked on the airline I was flying on; I figured she should just drop me off at the international terminal--bad move, Kelly. Turns out I was flying American Airlines first and then transferring to Avianca in Miami. Good work. Then, upon further investigation through my complicated itinerary, I realize I am flying into Guayaquil, not Quito...smooth move again, champ. Now, I have James and Aubrey's friend, Federico, picking me up from the airport and a hostel booked in QUITO--grr. Luckily, I got a hold of Federico to let him know the situation (he just laughed at me, silly Gringita) and changed the arrival date with the hostel online. No big deal.

When I finally got into the Guayaquil airport it was Midnight and, well, a blonde, American lady really shouldn't be wondering around in the dark in foreign countries, so I slept in the airport and got a bus to Quito at 6 am. Sleeping in that airport is apparently the popular thing to do; an adorable older Ecuadorian woman (think grandmother) watched over me--gracias senorita!! I logged nine hours of traveling time on the bus; during this time I got to see countryside living--lots of donkeys, dogs, hogs, piglets, and human public urination facing moving traffic. Also, food stand are EVERYWHERE...I mean, there may not be houses around, but there will a few children with their presumed mother under a little hut stirring a pot and selling Pilsner beer for 30 cents (no joke).

So, FINALLY, I make it to my hostel "The Blue House". I e-mailed Federico and he brought me out to dinner at this gorgeous restaurant called "Pimm's" (after the cordial, It seemed), which overlooked the twinkling lights of the HUUUUGE city. He ordered an abundance of local food, mini empenadas, multiple fruit juices (my favorite was naranita), a potato/cheese/avocado soup, figs and cheese, and another plate with churizo, potatoes, avocado, and a sunny side egg. MMMMM. Being that all I had eaten in the last 24 hours was a mini bag of potato chips on the bus (called Tip Tops), this feast was a perfect welcoming to Quito. He tried to show me some sights but I was so tired I was going cross-eyed; he brought me back to my hostel and will be showing me around today. I am already so happy, though I obviously miss my friends and family (thank you for the most amazing good-bye party, I've never felt so loved)--I can't wait to see what's next:)

FOOD CORNER

I've decided that, being that the world is full of foods that I have never even heard of, I would like to experience as many as possible and share them with whomever feels like reading my blog.

I haven't really tried anything too odd, yet, however, for dessert last night we ate figs with cheese. They were VERY sweet; the cheese, however, helped to balance the flavors.

Taste (rating 1-5, 5 being AMAZING) 2.5

After-taste ( measuring the negative effects on my body from 1-5, 5 being horrific) 1

AWKWARD MOMENT

Another backpacker took a picture of me on the plane when he thought I wasn't looking.....

2008-09-15T07:49:00.000-07:00

2008-09-08T08:34:00.001-07:00

Welcome everyone! The blog is a little rough now, I know, but TRUST me, it will get a lot more interesting. You may be wondering: what the hell is this all about, Kelly? Let me tell you...

About a month and a half ago I started getting really bored and frustrated; I was stuck between two extremes; a job that stimulated my brain--a creative and intellectual playground (yay Spot!), that could only pay me with sustenance--and a job that stunted my mind but brought in loads of "cash, money, hoes" as I like to call it....dolla dolla bills. I wasn't really ready to shackle my ankles to a desk just quite yet, but I knew I needed an extensive change of pace.

Then, one day at Spot I looked at my oh-so-awesome colleague, Wanna, and said, "I really want to travel."

"Do it"

....ok. Less than two weeks later, I was sitting at a desk in STA Travel purchasing a year's worth of plane tickets around the world. Now, I did put some thought into this adventure before draining my bank account--not that there's anything wrong with quitting your life as you know it to explore every crevice of the globe, quite the opposite actually. However, I wanted to use this next year as a means of improvement; for myself physically, emotionally, professionally, spritually... and any other -ally suffix words you can come up with, as well as improvement for the world. Now, I know that's very "Miss Universe" of me to say, but I'm serious! Here's the plan. During my year of travels I'm going to be working on organic farms (WWOOFing) and providing any other volunteer services I can find and am needed for (workaway.info). At the same time, I plan on being professionally progressive, putting my film/television degree to good use, with the help of my new Cannon camcorder, Avid editing software, and CS3. Oh, and the last minor detail--trying to break the Guinness Book World Record as the youngest woman to run a marathon on every continent. I've run 4 marathons already here in the states. The most important being the San Diego Rock 'n Roll marathon that I ran with the Leukemia and Lymphoma's Team in Training. I raised $4,700 towards curing blood cancers and I plan on carrying that cause with me through every other race in order to attract awareness. Antarctica is still in the works (keep your fingers crossed to get me off the wait list and/or someone to sugar daddy my way into the South pole), but other than that I have the other six under control!

I leave in 15 days....ahhhh! My life is in disarray, to put it lightly. I'm currently homeless and living on my friend's couch (Shawn Mazor is my hospitality hero). However, everything seems to magically be falling into place.

I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!

2008-09-05T09:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry, this blog is currently under construction and will be ready for viewing by 9/23/08.