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Bacadehuachi, Mexico

2011-11-08T11:00:00.001-08:00

Bacadehuachi is a miniscule ranch town of about 1500 people in eastern Sonora, Mexico. Set in a gorgeous valley alongside a perennial stream and surrounded by the towering Sierra Madres, this town was home to my great great grandparents, my great grandparents, and my grandmother for the first fifteen years of her life.

Since moving back to Tucson, we have wanted to make the pilgrimage down to Baca. The opportunity finally presented itself to us. We packed up the Tacoma and headed south across the border to a little known corner of the planet that plays an integral role in my ancestry.

On the long drive we were awestruck by the stunning and absolutely untouched beauty of this part of Mexico. Once the road heads east from Moctezuma, we wound our way through incredible mountain passes and lush lowlands until we arrived, eight hours later, in Bacadehuachi.

My Great Aunts Teresa and Lydia were in town for Dia de los Muertos. We watched the small parade of school children, admired the idyllic church and took many strolls through the simple streets.

Amanda took to documenting the Dia de los Muertos annual grave maintenance. During this important holiday to honor the dead, the cemeteries in Mexico sprout with life and fresh colors overnight as families visit the graves. They spend the day repairing fallen tiles, painting worn engravings, and replacing dead or faded flowers. We were able to witness this transformation firsthand and even help to decorate the graves of my great great grandparents.

We spent countless hours eating homemade food and chatting with distant relatives over bottomless coffee and endless memories. We learned about the history of this town, how Geronimo’s army used to raid it for supplies, how my great great grandparents were both teachers in Bacadehuachi when the town was only accessible by horse.

It was a magical trip to the motherland, one that I intend to make again sometime. Amanda had a wonderful time documenting my family and enjoying the beautiful scenery and hospitable people.

After all these years of telling everyone I am half Mexican, for the first time I actually believe it to be true.

Borneo

2011-08-24T00:19:00.001-07:00

We procured a flight to South Central Kalimantan the other day, intent on witnessing one of man’s close relatives living in the forest in Borneo. Borneo contains some of the world’s largest rain forests. These lungs of the earth are under constant threat as they are illegally burned to the ground in order to grow cash crops such as palms for oil. Tanjung Puting National Park is a vast reserve of rain forest set aside for rehabilitating orphaned orangutans. When the forest burns, the orangutans lose their homes. They come here, often without their families, to thrive in a protected region.

Six tourists, ourselves included, boarded a wooden klotok from Kumai, a town heavily occupied by massive concrete windowless houses. They are homes to the swallows whose nests are then harvested for the infamous bird’s nest soup, a Chinese delicacy. The constant hum of Muslim prayer emanating forth from the mosques scattered about were masked by the pre-recording sound of flocks of swallows blasting from the openings of each house, an effort to lure more birds and more profit from the skies above.

The competing sounds of this vibrant river town quickly faded as our klotok chugged down the river destined for Camp Leakey, an orangutan observation and research center. We had before us three days of a true boat safari in the grandest fashion. We were treated to wonderful meals, endless tea and coffee, new friends from Spain and Russia, and superb monkey viewing on the shoreline trees high above the river.

The Orangutans were amazing creatures to behold. It was as though we were watching our own kind, albeit much hairier, climbing around the vines and canopy, devouring bananas at the feeding stations. When the orangutans first arrive to the park, they are fed daily while they acclimate to their new surroundings. Nearly every female carried a baby on her back.

As the days came to a close, we would re-board our boat for a sunset cruise to witness the proboscis and macaque monkeys along with the elegant kingfishers and the elusive crocodiles. As we headed back to port on the final day we caught a glimpse of the largest male orangutan of the trip sitting in a tree over the water. He likely weighed over 250 pounds. We could almost see him waving goodbye as we left the tranquil rainforest of Tanjung Putting and headed back to the madness of Asian city-life.

Tana Toraja

2011-08-18T16:59:00.000-07:00

Religion plays a central role in nearly every culture and society that Amanda and I have visited over the years. Indonesia is well-known as having the largest population of Muslims in the world. However, in the two weeks that we have been here, their presence has been hardly noticeable.

The Toraja region of Central Sulawesi was once steeped in an ancient religion based on animism. Sacrificial offerings and complex rituals demanded their time, attention, and money. The Christians have since converted most of the people, sort of. Fortunately for us tourists that are thirsty for rare and unique cultures, the people have continued to practice their complex funeral rituals and live in their symbolic boat-shaped houses just as they have for hundreds of years.

Funerals last for five days and are attended by nearly the entire village. Gifts are exchanged, prayers are said and processions performed. What makes these funerals truly interesting are the ritualistic slaughtering of dozens of buffalo and hundreds of pigs.

The most sacred of buffalo, the albino with black spots, goes for well over $20,000. The richest families will kill over one hundred buffalo at each funeral. The funerals are such an expensive party that they often will not occur for months or years after death while the family raises money and makes the preparations for the party.

The people are undoubtedly Christian. They attend church on Sunday and name their children Abraham, Christian, and Mary. Yet, they have managed to keep a strong grasp on their past by continuing to hold these elaborate funeral ceremonies. Never before have two sides of the religious spectrum found such a harmonious place to coexist.

Then there are the houses. They are intentionally shaped like boats because their ancestors came by boat to Sulawesi. Each aspect of the house has ancient meaning and purpose. We saw old and new some grand, some quite small.

Amanda and I hired a guide for a two day trek across the rice fields and over the mountains from village to village. We attended a funeral ceremony, drank some homemade palm wine, lost some money at a cock fight, watched the farmers harvesting rice, celebrated independence from the Dutch, saw some hanging graves with wooden carvings of the dead, and experienced the pleasant life of central Sulawesi. We even spent the night in one of the fantastic houses.

The people of Sulawesi are some of the friendliest on earth. If only they could find a way to export their smiles and kindness, they would forever be wealthy. We were honored by the opportunity to spend time here. Thank you Sulawesi for all of your love.

Under the Sea

2011-08-13T02:05:00.000-07:00

We are in a place I never knew existed and I suspect most have never heard of. The island of Bunaken is one of Indonesia’s more than 17,000 islands off the coast of Sulawesi, itself a sprawling island in Indonesia. Why are we here? To fly.

Amanda and I have spent the last two days in a dream-like levitation as we soared above the most sublimely beautiful cityscape nature has ever constructed. This is the Paris, France of cities, the Sistine Chapel of churches, the Grand Canyon of Canyons.

We enter the heavens just off the beach from of our simple bungalow. The beaches are small as most of the coast line is lush with thick mangroves jockeying for space. Their massive roots protrude up from the sand surrounding their trunks like spiky towers searching for briny water that has left with the low tide. The first two-hundred yards off the shore are nothing terribly special. Grass grows from the sand and some unusually chunky and spiky starfish dot the landscape below. The water is smoother than the smallest lake. There is not even a hint of waves or motions; only serene calmness.

This ordinary scene suddenly gives way to a kaleidoscopic explosion of shimmering colors. The coral is simply stunning to admire. As we slowly float along with the current we are awarded with a slideshow of proportions that only nature itself could have possibly conceived. Our land-based frames of mind find it difficult to fathom the diversity of hundreds of varieties of coral, some small, some forming a table nearly forty feet across.

The sun has only three to five feet of water to penetrate as it casts its shine like a highlighter across the most important sections of text. But unlike that textbook that is filled with fluff, here in this underwater city, no square foot is without beauty, no crevice without life, no dark hole without lurking eyes. And we float and kick and swim and stare. We stare with wonderment, with astonishment, and with love for this earth which is capable of such colors. Fire corals, hydrocorals, fan corals, anemones, table corals, bush corals, pore corals, and bubble corals put forth shades of deep purple, fluorescent green, sky blue, mango yellow, deep red, and burnt orange. These colors put to shame the most beautiful of fall days in upstate New York. The shapes look both impossibly ornate and yet strangely organic at once.

And now I’d like to introduce you to the star attractions of this never-ending production: hundreds of thousands of fish. While the coral is indeed beautiful in its own right, its most notable quality is the inhabitants it contains. As we float by from above we are completely surrounded by at least a hundred fish at all times.

As I approach a particularly large school of key-sized shiny bright blue fish hovering above an equally large outcropping of flat shaped table coral, they seem to move as though I am the director of this shimmering orchestra. I wave my hand to within six inches of the herd and they retract backward like a massive bubble that bends under the slight touch of my soapy hand. I repeat these motions again and again and the school keeps exactly six inches from my hands, as though we have rehearsed this act hundreds of times. I decide to leave these beautifully coordinated actors alone and move out towards the edge of the coral wall. Here the coral clings to the side of a cliff that drops straight down into the nothingness below. The fish are heavily concentrated as they peck on the coral for nutrients. The clicking sound as they peck is at times soothing, and at times deafening.

I look left and twenty yards below me a majestic sea turtle glides up to the wall. His wings flap at a graceful pace as he turns around and soars back off into nothingness. We approach a family of clown fish hiding in an anemone. One exits his safety net and stares us down. They are the most aggressive two inches we will ever encounter. We decide to leave it be and move on.

Spotted and Yellow Boxfish flail around us, their bodies changing color as the light reflects from different angles. Massive schools stay close together as a group of four barracudas swim by. A striped sea snake nearly four feet long moves among the coral searching for its next meal. The majestic scorpion fish spread their spiny wings in all their glory warning us to the poisons they possess. And thousands and thousands of fish are everywhere.

After about an hour of beholding this magical mystery world just three feet below the ocean’s surface, we head back to shore. As we walk back three hundred yards to our hotel we are like two kids on Christmas morning. Our smiles are huge and we are grateful to have been so lucky to have this opportunity.

We somehow stumbled upon this place and it was the greatest trip into the ocean yet.

Magical Bali

2011-08-13T01:53:00.000-07:00

In effect, we rented a covered wagon who’s horses couldn’t go up a hill. In reality it was a Suzuki Samurai with a bad fuel filter.

Driving along the coast of Bali was hot, noisy, and very crowded. So much so that Amanda and I decided to abandon our initial plans which had us on the main roads for three days, in favor of some back-road adventures.

We drove to a place called Jatiluwih (Jatalouie) known for its world class rice fields. They were absolutely magical. The hills were blanketed in beautifully constructed two-hundred-year-old steps. Each step organically followed the shape of the mountain into which it was carved. An impressive array of canals, channels, bamboo tubes and ingenuity carried water from one step to the next and across the entire valley. Never has the generosity of gravity been so grandly exploited. As we looked out from above, we saw just the right number of palm trees and exotic plants to remind us that nature is alive and well in this beautifully manipulated man-made wonder of the earth.

As one might imagine, the region is not without hills and inclines. Our rental car, sick throughout our three day adventure, finally decided to die on the way out of the valley. We were able to get it started again for its last hurrah as we gunned it half a mile up to the only hotel in the area. By no fault of our own we were forced to stay in a beautiful Balinese style bungalow overlooking the rice fields. We were lulled to sleep by the sound of the frogs. The dozen or so waterfalls behind our room fed the river which quenched the thirst of the water-loving rice plants.

We woke early morning and took a long walk through the fields. The retaining walls make for excellent walking paths. It was a walk back in time where buffalo tilled the fields, the women carried their supplies on buckets balanced on their heads, and the men planted each plant by hand in the mud.

The car was given a new fuel filter overnight and ran great on the way home. What was at first a huge pain in the ass was transformed into a wonderful memory thanks to the magical powers of Bali.

Bali NASCAR

2011-08-13T01:47:00.000-07:00

The buffalo wore ornate headdresses, gold in color. They stood restless as their handlers wrapped their horns in colorful cloth, adorning the quite beasts with the intricacies normally reserved for weddings and funerals. They stood in pairs side by side. A small cart painted bright yellow, green, and orange was in tow.

As the announcer began shouting unknowns over the P.A system, they took off running. The driver in the cart smacked the shit out of the buffalos as these enormous creatures used for plowing and towing burst out into unimaginable speeds. The ground rumbled as they sped by us spectators. This was the great Mupati Cup Buffalo Race of 2011 in Negara Bali.

We ran across this NASCAR race of the island by chance and it was easily one of the highlights of Bali. They raced for hours in heats of three on a dirt road carved through the rice paddies. Their flags waved in the wind as the crowd watched intently cheering for the favored contestants.

Thanks for the treat Bali!

3 Years In the Making: Hello Bali

2011-08-01T23:41:00.000-07:00

Never has relaxing come at such an expense for Amanda and I. Money notwithstanding, this vacation to paradise cost us three years of law school, three months of bar exam study, and two days of the bar exam. I realize that these items all revolve around me. However, in the first years of our married life, that is exactly the way it was. The last three years were stressful, busy, and very un-relaxing. Law school was a fifty pound weight around both of our ankles, a third wheel in our lives, an obnoxious neighbor that insists on dropping in at the worst times. That is not to say we had no fun. Amanda and l never eschewed completely our hikes, camping trips, and relaxing trips to Michigan. Yet I can say with confidence and I am sure Amanda will agree that life for us of late was no box of chocolates.

And now, here we are in Bali. We have awarded ourselves for enduring three years of stress with the grand-daddy of chocolate bars. Bali is coated in nuts, caramel, nougat, and bigger than we could ever eat. Our task for the next five weeks is to explore, relax, have fun, and not stress. That’s the kind of assignment any of us can get behind. It might be the most emotionally expensive trips we’ve taken in our careers as travelers. But here we are, ready to leave behind another chapter in our lives and embrace the next.

After dumping all of my acquired law knowledge at the Phoenix Convention Center last Tuesday and
Wednesday, I was feeling light, empty, and ready. Don’t ask me what a tort is or how many jurors must agree. Right now, I don’t know and I don’t care. Amanda and I spent Thursday in a whirlwind packing for our journey. By 10:30 Thursday night, we were rolling down the tracks out of Tucson and towards Los Angeles. The train was step one of our journey. It was my first time riding the train in my own country and, to be honest, it wasn’t too bad. We got some sleep and it arrived to L.A. and hour early. And the price simply can’t be beat, so long as you buy your ticket far enough in advance.

Once in L.A. , Amanda and I were able to spend some time with my sister and her fiancé who live in Hollywood. We spent our day in L.A. strolling through the beautifully manicured streets of the Larchmont neighborhood. In L.A. we finished up some last minute preparations, such as picking up our visas at the Indonesian consulate.

Fast forward 24 hours of flying and here we are in Bali. We spent our second anniversary in the most incredible hotel either of us have ever seen let alone stayed at. (Thanks mom and dad). The Laguna is surrounded by beautiful swimming pools everywhere you look. It is a universe engulfed in luxury and smiles. Our stroll down the board walk took us past all of Bali’s finest hotels. We are in a segregated compound of sorts filled with wealthy tourists from all parts of the world.

Yesterday we took an excursion to a fish market for lunch. We strolled around looking at all the fresh fish for sale. Snapper was on our minds as we selected a two pound beauty. We then walked it across the street where we had it grilled to perfection. An enormous fish with a side of rice got us through lunch and dinner yesterday. It was easily the freshest fish we’ve ever eaten. It had most likely been dead for only a couple hours. Delicious.

Today we are meeting up with a former photography professor of Amanda’ s who has found a way to retire in Bali with her husband. We are excited to talk with them about all the changes in Bali since we were last here six years ago. Bali has exploded with tourism in that time and is now suffering from all the growing pains associated with the influx of foreigners and their money. Prices are skyrocketing and water levels are dropping.

Yet, despite the influx, we are confident that Bali will never run low on its hospitality and heartwarming smiles. We missed you Bali, thanks for having us back.

Law School Graduation

2011-05-16T17:37:00.000-07:00

Law School.

So many words come to mind when I think about the last three years of my life. I could say that law school was everything I thought it would be. The truth is, before I sat down for my first class in August of 2008, I had never really thought about what law school was. My decision to go to law school was made at a point in my life when I was ready for a change, ready for something new, and this seemed like the logical next step. That next step is now over. The empty folder that was handed to me as I swiftly floated across the stage on Saturday now sits on my desk waiting to be filled with a bona fide law degree. My textbooks still rest in my locker at school waiting to be sold off to the next unsuspecting student.

It was hard and it was, at least most of the time, boring. It was also rewarding, exciting and extremely interesting. My knowledge has expanded to heights I never could fathom while selling Fords in Rochester, a job I loved dearly and was sad to leave. Law infiltrates every single aspect of our lives. From the box you check when downloading a song to the car you drive, to the marriage certificate in your sock drawer, law is an all encompassing topic and it feels wonderful to have a better grasp on the world I live in. I am extremely excited to continue honing my new craft for a lifetime to come.

I made a few great friends in the last three years that I will forever keep in touch with. Sadly, most of them are leaving, on to the next stage in their own lives. Thankfully, some friends, like myself, have decided to stay the course in Tucson, at least for the time being. I am confident that some long lasting and unsuspecting friendships have been forged. I am encouraged by the thought of growing up as a lawyer in the small city of Tucson with my own generation. It feels good to be a part of a more intimate legal community, and I suspect that feeling will only grow with time.

The long slog has come to an abrupt and bittersweet end. Between my final and extremely taxing tax law final, and the first day of Bar review, I had five days of glorious, uninhibited fun. These five days I will never forget. I spent them with friends, family, sisters, brothers, wife, dogs and parents. I drank too much and ate even more. It was a wonderful celebration and I will cherish it forever. Amanda and I woke up Sunday morning after the big party (thanks for the ice luge mom and dad) and enjoined the beautiful morning on our back porch with my favorite Phoenician Lauren. We the had breakfast with Amanda's brother, mother, and aunt. The eating continued over a late lunch with our Rochester, NY friends Stephen and Maria Vetri, the coolest father and daughter ever created. Finally, I spent the evening walking, talking and playing board games with my older sister Eve, my younger sister Lisa and her fiance Andrew, and of course, Amanda and her brother Russ. We even joined my parents for a neighborhood party. Thank you all for making it the most wonderful day and weekend in so many years.

The time I was able to spend this weekend celebrating and enjoying so much love made three years of law school worth the effort. I will spend the next six weeks studying for the bar exam. At the end of July, I will take the bar exam, followed by a five week trip to Indonesia. I will then officially begin work at the Rockafellow Law Firm. I am excited and nervous but also confident that both I and the Firm will succeed.

Bisbee, Sonoita, and Amanda's new car

2011-03-17T21:12:00.000-07:00

Friends and Family,

A while back, I made a promise to myself and all of you, that this wonderful Blog would continue. I lied. So here is a recap of all the fun things Amanda and I have taken that will not be immortalized in the Blogosphere.

1. Law School

2. Marriage (See wedding blog)

3. Honeymoon in South Africa

4. Kauai

5. Egypt and Jordan

6. Montana and Glacier National Park

7. The rise of Amanda Rockafellow Photography (for a third time).

While Facebook has quickly rendered the Blog old fashioned and out dated, I have decided that I will at least attempt to re-ignite some of that creativity that drove this blog through the early years, something which just can't be duplicated on Facebook. So here it goes.

Amanda and I decided to visit Egypt and Jordan just after Christmas. While the trip was incredible and there are some wonderful treasures that I would love to share with you. The fact is, it was just too long ago to remember them. However, I will bring up one fun detail. We arrived in Amman Jordan after dark in our miniature rental car to pure chaos. To give a quick run down of the roads in Amman, picture in your mind an enormous anthill with about three or four well established trails of ants neatly and studiously headed either toward or away from the hill. Now, with both of your feet start stomping on the ant hill. This was Amman. Ants everywhere coming from every direction. We found a taxi driver that agreed to lead us to our destination. He was driving a 1976 Mercedes 240D in Yellow. It was a sweet ride. And after dropping off our rental car and getting in the taxi headed for the hotel, Amanda turns to me and says: I want one of these.

Long story short, when we returned to Tucson, Amanda bought a car. It is a 1974 BMW 2002. I know it's not a Mercedes but it's the same idea and a lot more fun to drive.

Our first adventure in the new ride was a road trip to Southern Arizona. the part of Arizona even further south than Tucson. We loaded it up with fishing poles and frisbees and headed South to Tombstone.

Tombstone - a true relic in the world of Android apps and electric cars. The streets have been paved and the brothel is now a museum, but the wild West lives on here more than anywhere else in the world. We rolled into town, ate some ice cream, tried on some shit-kickers, and rode out on our trusty steed towards Bisbee.

Bisbee - An amazing Gem of a town. This is an old Gold and Copper Mining town that has transformed itself into........ well let me put it this way. You know those Art Cars you spot every once in a while. It might have about 5000 figurines glued to it, or it might be painted like a Lichestein piece. Or maybe it is just lined with pennies. Bisbee is crawling with them. It's a town in the hills. The sidewalks are always giving way to intense flights of stairs and it is hours from the nearest airport or Costco.

Bisbee is a wonderful place to just enjoy. The weather was perfect. We had a dry winter this year so while brown was the dominant color of the landscape, it still begged you to just stop and look around. We had some brewery beer, went on a hike, bought some antiques, and suddenly, we had already stayed two nights in a town who's only main street, Main Street, can be walked in about 8 minutes. We were sad to leave.

Again, we loaded up the Bimmer, cranked the engine over a few times until it roared to life, and headed to Lake Patagonia for some fishing. After dropping $16 on a license and $5 on some worms, I watched schools of fish swim up to my hook to within inches. The fish would then stop and stare at the worm writhing around on his death hook. I could almost hear the fish laughing. This lasted for a solid two hours. I then dumped my worms in the lake and we left. there's a reason I hadn't been fishing in 10 years. I'm sorry that wonderful streak is now broken.

We then bought two softball size mangos for a dollar and drove to Sonoita.

Last year I took a class with a former Congressman in Southern Arizona who offered us his remote cabin. We stayed there and it was wonderful. We sat around watching the grass wave at us in the golden hills surrounding his beautiful and tiny cabin in the high desert of Southern Arizona. It was quite possibly one of the most peaceful settings we have encountered since Bali. Thanks Jim.

And Thank you for reading.

The Final Destination

2008-08-20T21:01:00.001-07:00

After spending a few weeks relaxing from our incredibly stress-free vacation on the Greek islands, Amanda and I were ready to do some more traveling. I flew to Ann Arbor to spend some time enjoying their unseasonably cool August. Our days were spent playing ladder ball, sipping wine, and eating the most incredible dinners courtesy of Master Chef Ruth Petran and Master Griller Bob Petran. However, in the interest of saving everyone’s keyboards from saliva and drool induced meltdown, I will deny the urge to go over each meal in detail.

We thoroughly enjoyed our grand finale of the good life of all play and no work before our official move to Tucson. Not to place Tucson in a negative light. It is, however, no coincidence that upon our arrival Amanda will begin her massive push to achieve the greatness she had in Rochester and I will begin Law School, a sharp contrast to the lives of travelers.

On my fourth day in Ann Arbor we loaded the Hyundai with the deftness and precision of the world champion of Tetris. Neither nook nor cranny stood a chance against our superior packing skills. By Friday afternoon the Sante Fe was sagging beneath the weight of Amanda’s entire business, a 48” glass table strapped to the roof, and enough artwork to open our own wing at the Louvre.

Our final journey back to the real world began on Saturday morning. Had we not gone drinking with Bob and Ruth the night before, we just might have made it out of Nebraska. Yet, after passing through the potholes of Michigan, sprawling suburbs of Illinois, and the rolling corn fields of Iowa, it was a roadside campsite in the cornhusker state that we settled on for night #1. We were able to catch a few hours of sleep between the constant barrage of freight trains and 18 wheelers that assaulted our tired ear drums all night. I surrendered at 3:30 AM and decided to pack up the tent. It was an early start to a grueling day.

Sixteen hours of driving can be worse than waking up with your head sewn to the carpet. Yet, the beautiful scenery in Colorado worked hard to fray the strains of sitting upright for so long. The massive leather bound photo album behind my seat destroyed any hopes I had of reclining to an even remotely comfortable seating position. After passing through some heavy hitters in the famous ski resort lineup such as Breckinridge and Vail, we headed south past Telluride to the small ski town of Durango. The beautiful peaks surrounded us with the realization that you really don’t have to travel far to see some of the most stunning nature in the world.

We had our first real meal in two days at a Mexican restaurant in Durango and then drove our final hour to Mesa Verde National Park. Once our tent was erected we took a sunset hike on Knife Edge Trail. It skirts the edge of the Mesa allowing us to see for hundreds of miles over the flat valley below. Afterwards we attended a talk by a park ranger about the storytelling tradition of the Pueblo peoples that inhabited this land over a thousand years ago and still do to this day. We definitely heard the spirits talking that night. We fell asleep under a bright full moon in the desert: our new home.

In the morning we took a tour of Cliff Palace, the largest cliff dwelling in North America. After visiting dozens of ruins in the last few months, it still managed to impress us by its size and level of preservation.

By noon we were heading towards New Mexico for our final day of driving. We passed through the Navajo Indian reservation, the eerie specter of Shiprock, and were welcomed to Arizona via I40 by the incredibly nostalgic Route 66 town of Holbrook and a lush and green palette of plant life. It seems the arid forests and deserts of Arizona have had a good share of rain the past few years. How beautiful it has become. As we headed south we passed from high desert to pine forests, over red rivers, and into the Sonora desert. This dry desert is home to more species of plants and animals than any ecosystem in North America. Now you can add two more: Amanda and Leighton. We drove up to our new home just after a rainstorm and in the middle of a colorful sunset that is so common to the desert.

And so, after nearly 2300 miles we are here. Our new lives have officially begun. We were welcomed with open arms and a warm dinner by my parents. We have no income, no friends, and so many unknowns. We hope Tucson is as good to us as Rochester was. It’s a high peak to summit but we have faith. Amanda’s business will grow and I will study. Of course all are welcome to our spare bedroom on Croyden St.

Epilogue of the Wanderers

2008-08-06T12:43:00.001-07:00

Millions of people travel in this world. Many of these tourists take packaged tours with guides and travel agents. However, many go as Amanda and I did. They take the bare minimum of supplies; a couple of shirts, some underwear, and a toothbrush. They put these items on their back and leave. We met hundreds of such travelers. Some had no plans and had been gone for more than a year. Others had 1 year’s worth of plane tickets with plans to spend no more than 2 weeks in each country. Some worked as they traveled. Some took many drugs. Others hung out in the same hostel for months. Some traveled to escape their reality. Some were looking for themselves. Some had no budget. Some had the smallest budget imaginable. Some traveled alone. Many traveled with their loved one. Many more traveled alone only between traveling with new friends they met along the way. We traveled with people from Canada, Norway, France, Australia, Israel, India, Argentina, Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Sweden, New Zealand, and many other places around the world. And while we all had our own agendas, our own plans, our own time line, and our own budget, we all shared one thing in common: we had all sacrificed so much to see what the world had to offer.

While Amanda and I would love to look at ourselves as pioneers, we are not. We simply are two Americans who created an opportunity for ourselves to get out of our familiar lives of work and play to explore this vast planet we live on. Go ahead and browse through this blog again. In the last seven months we packed in a lifetime of stories, adventures, sights, sounds, and food sickness. We saw so much. In typical American fashion we moved fast and tried to see it all. Yet, we failed miserably. Once we got to Peru, our first country, we realized we could not see it all. Once we reached India we understood why everyone told us 25 days was not enough. The vastness of this world and diversity of its inhabitants is astronomically huge. In a way, it is overwhelming. Take India for example. Life is simply a struggle to survive in India. The majority of over 1 billion people try every day to find safe water, and food, shelter. Yet, the resources simply cannot be spread thin enough. Where do we fit in as tourists? In Bolivia we saw a new president, Bolivia’s first with Inca roots, fighting a wealthy Spanish population in the Southeast in a country that has been ruled by Spaniards since the occupation in the 1400s. In Turkey we saw a country caught on the fence between the westernized world and decidedly un-western Muslim religion that 97 percent of its inhabitants practice. Many of the countries we visited are all too familiar with terrorist attacks and civil unrest and strikes and chaos. We were simply tourists there to observe from afar. Some countries made us miss the comforts of home more than others. We have it good in America. Sure most of the world hates us and our foreign policies. But we have to ask ourselves if this matters as long as we can flush our toilets, buy our fancy electronics, sip our Starbucks, and buy our cheap gasoline ($13.5/gallon in Turkey). I don’t mean to sound sarcastic or even elitist. These truly are the things you begin to miss. We have rights in this country unlike any others. We have laws that protect us and police who don’t ask for bribes (often). America has its issues much like any country, but it is a wonderful place to call home.

Maybe this is why we travel. It is good to leave for a while and forget about the mundane media reports on the price of gas or Obama’s preacher. It is good to step outside of our American cruise ship to catch a glimpse of the beautiful and turbulent ocean that surrounds us; if nothing more than to realize how grateful we are for all the comforts of life in a western world.

We missed our friends, we missed our family. We missed knowing what was happening around us. We didn’t miss the hectic schedules and American work ethic. We didn’t miss 14-hour workdays and only spending a couple hours a week with each other. We didn’t miss the American media or the election news. In fact, there is a long list of the things we didn’t miss so much about home.

It seems Americans, much like any country, have the tendency to become engulfed by the microcosm of their lives. This is only natural. Why worry about the ban on head-scarves at public universities in Turkey when it’s Muslims that wear head-scarves and Muslims who are killing American soldiers in Iraq? Who cares if Argentina is facing a nationwide strike due to taxes on beef exports that could send the country into its second massive recession in 10 years when we can still buy a Big Mac for $3 any time we want? It is easy to view the world through our American goggles. This is what I loved about our trip. We saw the world in a different light. We hope that my words and Amanda’s photos acted as a portal of this perspective for our friends and families. We want this blog to not only share our experiences, but to reveal a small portion of the vast world that exists beyond our borders and TV screens.

We hope we can carry all of the wonderful experiences with us as our journey continues on the homeland. Life is, after all, nothing more than collection of experiences. We strive to find a way to shape them into some meaning now that we've returned to a different reality. We certainly have a more global perspective and we hope it will last as I begin to bury my head in books for Law school and Amanda begins building her successful business from scratch all over again.

We want to thank all of our readers and encourage you to check back every few weeks. We have decided to keep the blog going because life can be an adventure – even if we aren’t stopping thieves, escaping road blocks, getting published in a national magazine, or hiking the Inca trail. We have seen so much of the world and it has been a bittersweet ending to this chapter in our lives. We will miss the life of a tourist. Yet, we are excited to see what life brings us next.

And because ending with a quote just feels right, I will leave you with J.R.R. Tolkien:
“Not all those who wander are lost.”

Blink of an Eye

2008-07-31T12:26:00.000-07:00

The final tale of our journey is indeed a wonderful one. In fact our merrymaking has been so intense in the last 2 weeks that our blog has suffered dearly. Who has time to write when you’re exploring an entire island by scooter? Why go online when dozens of beautiful beaches await us, lounge chairs and umbrellas galore? No time for pictures when there are so many gyros pita stands to try. Once Nick and Lisa landed in Santorini our travel brains seemed to turn off. These final two weeks were the only section of our 7 month adventure that was strategically planned. Hotels were reserved, ferries were booked, and budgets were thrown to the wind. This was the Greek islands in the summer, there where 4 of us, then 5, then 4 again, and we had more fun than can possibly fit into one of our Eagle Creek back packs. The alcohol was flowing and the mornings grew shorter and shorter as we partied our way closer to the finish line. And while time has erased so many details in my sun and beer soaked brain, I wish to stop with the generalities and fill in as many blanks as possible in the grand finale of Hablog Ingles.

Thira (Santorini)

Known as one of the most touristed islands of them all, Santorini, despite the throbbing crowds, did not disappoint. We visited the White beach, a beautiful outcrop of limestone that slid in the ocean creating a small beach of a beautiful color. We drove our scooters to the northern end of Oia to watch the sunset amongst hundreds of tourists. After the crowd applauded the sun’s final descent into night, a full moon made its glorious debut directly behind us. It was a memorable scene as we perched ourselves high in the bleached city that suspended itself on the edge of the cliffs, hundreds of feet above the sea. Thira is thought to be the site to the largest volcanic eruption in the history of the world. In 1500 BC the island’s entire center exploded into the atmosphere 30 km high creating a massive caldera that soon filled with sea water. It is one of nature’s masterpieces and the cause for all the crowds in Sanotrini. Yet, when the cruise ships depart and the sweet light arrives, this island is very romantic. The four of us relaxed, drank wine, and caught up on old times while staring off into the sea from our hotel.

Amorgos

After 4 hours on the slow boat, we arrived in the very un-touristed island of Amorgos. This island is basically a massive mountain protruding from the sea. We loved the contrast of its tranquility and serenity compared to Santorini. Again we rented two scooters because this is an amazing way to experience a Greek island. Here we went on a hike above the sea, and visited many beautiful classic white towns. We took the bus to a monastery that, because the Greeks love to do it, clung to the side of a cliff like the pickle from my quarter-pounder that now sticks to the window of McDonalds.

Naxos

In Naxos, an old friend from France that Nick and I met in Costa Rica joined us. C’eline was happy to see us waiting for her at the port when she arrived. Now that the party had really started, the five of us rented an apartment near a very nice beach and lounged around all day. The five of us enjoyed the shallow waters as we tossed the Frisbee for hours. We had a wonderful seafood dinner that night and before we knew it we were off to …

Mykonos

As we stepped into the scorching heat of a bus parked in the sun, a fat sweaty man soon followed. He looked at his passengers – a rag tag bunch of independent travellers eager to see the island. “Welcome to Mykonos” he mumbled as his hand reached up for the stereo and the house music began pumping through the sound system. As our ride began and our heart beats assumed the rhythm of the music we knew that Mykonos would be intense. Mykonos, at least the part of Mykonos that the five of us experienced, is a never ending party. Our nights started at 11 and ended at 4 am. We sat at the beach among hundreds of party animals, a dance club party filled the background with all 3 genders joining in on the fun.
It is a beautiful island with some incredibly scenic towns and never ending white-washed buildings. But who cares when you’re gettin’ down at the night club SPACE or cruising the never-ending bars and restaurants that line every nook and cranny of this once sleepy place? We had lots of fun in Mykonos and though we had to say goodbye to C’eline, we were happy to be moving on.

Tinos

This unknown was an added island as we decided three nights of Mykonos was too much for us. Turns out it was well worth the stop. This was old world Greece. Finally, we found towns with no tourist shops and only the occasional taverna. We took a drive at sunrise in our rented shoebox-of-a-car. It was a fitting farewell to our version of a 5 island tour.

Athens

Athens was the final stop of more than 100 for us. We made it. This is it. This is a dump. OK, so first impressions aren’t always accurate. Athens is a city that demands your attention to produce good results. While much of it is a ghetto, a little discovery will produce excellent eateries, wonderful gyros pitas, awesome bars, great vistas, nice beaches, and yes, the Acropolis. It’s too bad that so many tourists spend a whirlwind day at the Acropolis, Agora, and wonderful museum before boarding a ferry to the islands. It was a really nice city to spend our final three days. Since we had three full days, we did as Athenians do. We saw Mamma Mia at one of Athen’s outdoor movie theaters. Afterwards, we danced to some real music – none of the Mykonos house mixes here. The weather was perfect with a nice breeze for 3 straight days. We dined like kings and stayed out late. On the last night we climbed to the top of Lycabettus hill for a stunning 360 degree sunset over one the oldest cities of the world.

And then we flew home on four different flights. Just like that, the journey had ended. Seven months, thirteen countries, in the blink of an eye.

The Home Stretch

2008-07-16T23:34:00.000-07:00

The sole of my right shoe is now peeled back a few inches from the toe. Amanda’s favorite shirt has elongated itself into a dress from so many hand washes in a hotel sink, and drying over the back of a chair. Our hair is long and shabby, our clothes need replacing. Yes, as I sit here in our beautiful hotel perched on the scenic caldera of the Greek island of Santorini, I am painfully aware that the end is near. Six months ago, this time would never come. Five months ago we had thousands of adventures in front of us. Last month we still had two countries on our list. Now there is Greece.
Before getting ahead of myself, I must back-track 1 week to Turkey. After taking a plunge off the mountain with the Mediterranean as my backdrop, we took a bus inland towards the ruins of Heiropolis in Pamukkale. This ancient Roman city resists the urge to be bland by perching itself atop a large outcrop of limestone terraces. The Romans shaped them into pools and what is left are stunning waterfalls of cool spring water into dozens of beautifully shaped pools over a bleach white landscape of calcium rich soil. It made for an incredible sunset. The ruins were crowned by an amazing Roman theatre – one of the best preserved in Asia. What might have caught our attention the most was the hundreds of bikini clad women, mostly Russian, posing in terraces for pictures. The beach was a hundred miles away yet everyone was in their bikini taking a swim. Considering the Turkish tourists wore headscarves and coats, it made for some bizarre contrasts.
We then headed for our final Turkish stop at the ruins of Ephesus. Regarded as one of the best preserved Roman cities in the world, we were certainly impressed. However, the stifling heat, encroaching forest fire, and crushing mass of cruise-ship tourists had us moving on our way fairly quickly to the port town of Marmaris. From here we took a pricey catamaran to the ancient Greek island of Rhodes.

Our guide book told us we’d either like Rhodes or love it. However it was dead wrong. These descriptives are far too weak and commonplace to truly explain the way we felt while roaming the ancient streets of Rhodes town on the northern tip of this large island.
Maybe it should have read: you will want to give up all your material possessions, renounce your citizenship to the US, climb a mountain, climb five mountains, do everything you hate – even listen to country music, just to be in Rhodes. It was fantastic. And all we had to do was give a company 50 euros each to get here! The old town is surrounded by ancient walls, 16 meters thick. The cobble stoned streets demand that you take your time as you stroll through crooked passageways, tunnels, and old, old, old. We loved our little apartment off the street. It was as though we had always lived there. And though the crowds could be intense, it was not difficult to find the quite streets where cats and old ladies still reigned supreme over mass tourism.

We took an excursion to the famous town of Lindos on the Eastern coast of Rhodes for a day of scorched skin, floating in the turquoise waters, and beer sipping.

After waking to a minor earthquake on our last morning in Rhodes, we boarded an 18 seat plane and now we are in Santorini; an island which speaks for itself. My sister Lisa and high school friend Nick will be meeting us here shortly. It is the beginning of the end and never have I experienced such a strong sense of the word “bittersweet”. We can’t believe our lives of travel are nearing an end but wow has it been great. We can’t believe we only have 2 weeks left but… we have two weeks to spend in Greece! Life is good. No, life is great.

Sailing the Med at 6000 ft

2008-07-10T11:42:00.001-07:00

4th of July

2008-07-05T10:38:00.000-07:00

“This man stole my passport!!!” A small crowd quickly grew in numbers to engulf the scene that was unfolding in front of a fruit stand in the Western Mediterranean city of Kas (pronounced kash). Fists started flying as I held the man by my shirt.

Five minutes earlier, as Amanda and I strolled through this beautiful Turkish beach town, Amanda stopped me and told me something that really caught my attention. With her right pointer finger extended Amanda said: “Leighton, isn’t that the man that was on the beach yesterday?”

I turned for a look and began to follow him. It would be hard to call this a chase, but the guy sure was taking some strange turns as he wound his way through the small alleys and shops in the center of town. After nearly being run over by a kid on a scooter, my hand reached for what I suddenly realized was the exact shirt I had been wearing the day before.

Had I spoken Turkish there would have been many wonderful and glorious phrases spilling from my seething mouth at that moment. “You f#@$% sh@@#$ad ba#$%d. However, all I could think to say was: “That’s a nice shirt”. I said this because it was a nice shirt. It was mine after all, and after not having it for the night, I realized how fond of it I had become. It was really nothing too special – just a grey Jockey T shirt. However, when you have been wearing the same 4 t-shirts for the past 6 months, you tend to grow quite fond of them.

So now I was standing in the street holding a Turkish man wearing my shirt. This was the only man at the beach yesterday whose face I remembered. As we swam in the clearest and freshest seawater of our lives, he sat on a rock smoking his cigarette with an impossibly long ash.

“How you know he steals from you?” A thick Turkish accent from the crowd asks me this fair question. As I answered yet another local stepped up to bat. His right hand made a solid connection to the face of the man wearing my shirt. My shirt staggered backwards and fell into the stack of crates. More locals saw an opportunity they could not resist and crates began flying at the lanky man.

Amanda had left about 3 minutes prior to the flying fruit crates. As instructed by me, shortly after my first foray into crime fighting, she was causing a scene by running around the town screaming for the police.

The Turks will throw a punch at any opportunity apparently. So anytime this 6 ft scrawny man with a darkened complexion and dark beard’s mouth opened, it was met with a new fist. I was smiling the entire time.

We had spent a good portion of the prior afternoon at the police station struggling to fill out a police report in Turkish.

The bag sat ten feet behind me as we stared off into the Mediterranean in awe. In it rested my pants, knife, wallet, credit cards, passport, camera, cell phone, and many smaller items such as my insulin, blood tester, small plastic samurai man, luggage keys, and basically everything of value that I possess on my travels – including my Herpicin Lip Balm because lip herpes can be a problem in the sun.

I wanted to throw a punch but I’m just not a violent person. Fortunately he was bleeding quite badly by the time Amanda arrived with the police to a crowd of about forty.

While the owner of the fruit stand was no doubt concerned about his flying crates of fruit, I was more focused on my shirt. I really like that shirt.

Our fingers shook as adrenaline pumped through our bloodstreams. Amanda and I were escorted to the station by two detectives.

I sat in the blue chair at the end of the hall tonguing my herpetic lip, pondering which items I missed most. Was it the samurai man, the driver’s license, the passport, the camera? We sat at the police station for many hours. Amanda produced a beautiful image from her digital camera of the beach we were relaxing at the day before. The man with the now bleeding face sat in the left corner of the frame, waiting to run off with my possessions. The police loved it. It was possibly the first time they had evidence of a petty thief in action. They wanted to hire my little Sherlock Holmes on the spot. They took him into a room near where I sat. Apparently the man and four police decided to sit down and watch a Bruce Lee flick on high volume in this room. However, I did not notice a television. Nor were there any chairs. I was promptly asked to move down the hall, away from the noise. I never received an invite to join in the melee.
My translator was a Turkish man of 21 years whose German girlfriend was also a victim of theft that morning. Their criminal was caught on tape. We shared our stories and begged the police to let me search the man’s hotel room who at this point was still wearing my shirt.

Items began turning up one by one. First the phone, then the camera, then my bag, then my sunscreen walked through the door as detectives searched his hotel room and the trash bins around the hotel. “Where’s my passport?” I screamed in agony.

In the end, we left the man in his jail cell – minus my shirt. He has many pieces of evidence to prove his guilt and even more bruises.

I hope they cut his hands off. However, this law was abolished in Turkey with the fall of the Ottoman Empire nınety years ago.

I still have no knife, no shorts, and worst of all, no passport. I do have one hell of a great story to tell. It is certainly an Independence Day that will not be forgotten.

Living Under a Rock

2008-06-29T08:02:00.000-07:00

Cappadocia is a modern day Bedrock. The main difference is that cars are not foot powered and I haven’t been able to find dinosaur vacuum cleaners or anything that resembles a bird can opener. But people do live inside rocks and mountains as they have for hundreds of years. There’s even a Flintstones cave hotel. I realize I have been quite liberal in the use of this word in past blog entries, but Cappadocia is the definition of surreal. Nothing has captured our bewilderment more than the hundreds of fairy chimneys carved into ancient homes and churches. Imagine a tall rock spire planted in the desert with a door, windows and stairs carved into its side. Walk inside to find multiple floors, carved tables, shelves, and even large, domed and frescoed churches. The volcanic rock is particularly soft in this region. For some reason, its inhabitants in the 11th-13th centuries decided to pick up a hammer and chisel and start digging. Nearly everywhere we turn, we see windows set hundreds of feet into the cliffs. The landscape alone is enough to deem this region stunning, the fact that thousands of people still live in the caves is the tipping point. This place is beyond anything we have ever seen. After 6 months of travel, we don’t feel this way very often.

Each home is supremely different. All resemble something from a Dr. Suess book. Some are built in groups such as apartments, other stand solo surrounded by grape vines. Each morning a barrage of 20 + hot air balloons make a quite assault on the sights below. But this only adds yet another element of madness as now the skies are filled with colorful jewelry.
We rented a scooter on our first day to do some exploring. We hiked and climbed and played in this ancient fun house of a place.

And if things just couldn’t get any stranger, it turns out that they lived underground too! Over 30 underground cities have so far been discovered. Using similar methods of carving and removing rock, the Cappadocians dug down as well. The largest underground city is 12 levels deep. Discovered in 1982, it is thought to have housed up to 30,000 people completely hidden beneath the desert’s surface. It is said that they lived here during periods of war and conflict (history has placed quite a few in this region of the world) to escape religious persecution. This was a very Christian community surrounded by Muslim armies. All entrances could be blocked by a 10-ft diameter stone that was rolled into place. The city we visited at Kaymakli was 8 levels deep and supremely strange. It is difficult to fathom an entire city living beneath the ground, yet here I was staring at their pantries, churches, air shafts, and toilets.

We’ve spent the last two days exploring the beautiful pigeon homes and rock formations in and around the city of Goreme, our home base for Cappadocia. Turkey just keeps getting better.

Turkish Delight

2008-06-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

We boarded our air conditioned bus (we missed air con) headed for Safranbolu. This small town has managed to earn a World Heritage designation by preserving its old Ottoman homes. Indeed, we checked into our hotel, a 300 year old wooden home with a bathroom built into a closet. This may sound strange but imagine opening up a pantry door, stepping over a 1.5 ft ledge and into your shower. The hustle and bustle of Istanbul gave way to peaceful streets, and a more traditional Turkey.

It was not hard to spend two days meandering (a slower pace than walking, but faster than strolling) Through the streets of Safranbolu and eating free samples of Turkish Delight. Unlike many regions, here they sprinkle their chewy sweets with Saffron, the spice from which this town takes its name. Diabetics beware!! It is addicting.

We had no idea what to expect of Turkey. So far it has been comfortable, friendly, and full of surprises.

Istanbul was Constantinople

2008-06-29T06:15:00.000-07:00

If India was our lobster-red sun burn, then Turkey has become our soothing and refreshing aloe. The storm has finally passed. Traveling is suddenly wonderful again. The roads are paved, the food is filled with meat, the cities are clean, and everyone is honest. Welcome to Turkey.

Our plane landed in Istanbul and to our absolute wonder and amazement not a single individual approached us to take their taxi or bus or stay at their hotel or buy their map or buy their daughter. We strolled onto the air-con metro and glided into beautiful Istanbul in absolute peace. Keep in mind we had just left a land of more than one billion people and even more headaches.

Istanbul is a world class city. It is also the only city that spans two continents: Europe and Asia. It has managed to blend old world beauty and heritage seamlessly together with a new sense of energy and excitement. We fell in love as soon as we stepped foot onto its rock paved streets and shaded parks. We spent four days exploring sights such as the Aya Sofya (Haghia Sophia). Built as a church in 537 AD, It is without doubt the most incredible building we have ever witnessed. Its walls and frescoes have withstood many earthquakes. Considering that 97% of Turks call themselves Muslim, it now serves duty as a mosque. Highlighting the skyline among dozens of mosques is the famous Blue Mosque. We fought the crowds to catch a glimpse of the beautiful blue tile work inside that give this standout its name.

We walked for miles enjoying the Grand Bazaar district of leather, gold, rugs, and anything else a tourist might buy. We took a poor man’s cruise in the form a 30 minute ferry across the Bosphorous River at sunset (highly recommended). Mostly we just strolled and enjoyed all that this westernized metropolis had to offer. We sat in benches and spent Turkish Lire and loved everything about it, especially the absence of cows.

It was an incredible city that greeted us with open arms and a warm kebab; exactly what we needed.

Curse of the Rosewood Bracelet

2008-06-19T05:50:00.000-07:00

The last 2 weeks have not been easy for your favorite travelers. India has done its best chew us up and spit us to the curb stained red from pan, a red chewing tobacco that is all the rage. Since Varanasi we have spent nearly 4 full days in transit, sleeping somewhere different every night. We have not seen nearly as much of India as 25 days should allow for. Instead we have been on the move, constantly attempting to find a place to sit back, relax, and enjoy India.

It all started with a rosewood bracelet. While on a 5 hour bus ride in the state of Bihar, India’s poorest. We sat next to an 18 yr old girl on her way to Patna to take an entrance exam for university. She was a joy to speak to. She offered me a wooden bracelet with silver roses as a gift to remember her. I happily and gracefully accepted her offer astounded by the generosity and kindness of every Indian not working in the tourist industry. I wore my bracelet with pride, it fit my girlish wrist perfectly and I didn’t have to barter for it.

Then we spent the night at the train station. After a 5 hour bus ride, we arrived to the station at 7 PM, 3 hours ahead of our 10 PM train which actually arrived at 3 AM. There was only one announcement in Hindi meaning we nearly missed it as we were both sound asleep by 3 AM. Our 10 hour train ride to Siliguri, a northern city in the State of West Bengal picked us up 5 hours behind schedule and arrived in Siliguri only 8 hours behind schedule. Next we caught a 3 hour taxi to Darjeeling, a beautiful hill station town where the temperatures are cool. Tibetan culture overruns this city which boasts 360 degree views of the three highest peaks in the world – Everest included. After 30 hours of traveling we checked into our hotel to discover that tomorrow is the beginning of a strike. It turns out, the mainly Nepali and Tibetan people of this hill region are demanding their own state, separate from West Bengal. It’s a 20 year old conflict that has waited until our arrival to culminate into a complete shut down for the region. This means no busses, no trains, no shops, no restaurants, nothing. Miraculously the taxi driver was able to find his way around all road blocks.

Our kind hotel owner kept his facilities open for us and the 6 other tourists who remained. We spent the day relaxing and strolling though the quietest streets India has to offer. Thick cloud cover obstructed our views of the Himalayas but we could feel their presence as the clouds swirled over our heads.

After a day of the strike the Hotel Owners Association organized an evacuation of all hotel guests. We were scurried into a jeep packed with 12 foreigners and part of a convoy of about 50 vehicles going down the hill. Our driver had to fight with every road block but the evacuation was a success, despite some vomiting children in the Jeep ahead of us.

Siliguri, the town we escaped to, was facing transportation strikes due to rising gas prices. Darjeeling and Sikkim, where we planned to spend 7 days where now shut from commerce. The Trains were all booked for 4 days solid as it is Summer vacation for India. Keeping all this in mind, we made the decision to get away from the craziness and move on to Nepal, only 1 hour away.
We walked across the border in the dark and found a guest house. Our 4 AM Kathmandu-bound bus left in the pouring rain on time. It was going to be a 15 hr journey. We stopped twice for food and dozens of times for more passengers. Then we stopped at a road block. No problem, it will be clearing in 30 minutes. This quickly turned into 2 hours, which turned to five, which turned to our entire bus load of Nepalise sleeping in the bus in front of a gas station. Miraculously, of the roughly 10,000 people stuck behind this road block, we were the only foreigners. The Canadians we crossed the border with must have been smart and flown to Kathmandu.

It was now 11 AM the day after our bus left. We had been stuck at the road block for 24 hours. The only good thing to come of the situation was the kind conductor who walked and talked with us and kept us feeling safe. The three of us decided to stroll to the front of the line of trucks, busses, and cars to find a group of villagers peacefully dismantling a cargo truck. Diesel fuel spilled though a punctured gas tank and pieces of the engine were scattered on the road next to bucket seats and deflated tires. A group of 5 young policemen stood and observed this calm yet destructive protest, riot gear in hand. It turns out a man was killed the night before by a bus, and a small child a few hours later nearby by this truck. This resulted in a block and now the entire country is inconvenienced. At least that’s the story we got. One has to wonder if the fact that Nepal changed from a Monarchy to a Republic only 2 weeks ago and is now in the process of building a new government has anything to do with the strikes. Wondering when our luck will change, we make the difficult decision to go back to the very country we ran away from to begin with. This meant boarding one bus and driving about 2 km until we reached a third accident. This one was getting violent. Amanda and I strapped our bags on and ran through the blockade to a bus on the other side heading to the Indian border. At the Nepal immigration office they wanted to know why we came to Nepal for only 2 days. They denied our accusations of problems on the highways and road blocks. We rolled our eyes and fled back to the country that we love to hate – India.

Another 5 hour bus ride through potholes that could swallow a Volkswagen brought us back to Patna. Somewhere along the way I chucked the bracelet out the window cursing its evil hold on our luck. We admitted defeat, checked into a nice hotel and booked a plane ticket to Delhi where we arrived, greeted by the earliest monsoon on record for 108 years. Its strange to find respite in such a huge polluted and dirty city but here we our, in the fifth day of Delhi and it’s not such a bad place. The rains have cooled things down a bit and we have been enjoying the shopping and dining that this city has to offer.

We are sad that India has rejected our advances of courtship. Yet, we are not surprised. In this vast country where most marriages are arranged, we now realize that when we return we must plan ahead and have a huge dowry to offer. The best matches in India cost a lot of money. Traveling here can cost as little as $8 per day and as much as $3000. Be prepared to get what you pay for. Next time we’re taking out an ad in the Sunday Hindustan Times: “Wanted, relaxing cultural excursion through the beautiful landscapes of India. Will pay as much as is necessary”.

Markets of Asia Slideshow

2008-06-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

Please click here to view slideshow in a larger screen.

The Ghats Must Be Crazy

2008-06-05T23:27:00.000-07:00

Our wooden boat slowly maneuvered through the masses of worshippers. There were those that floated, those that lathered, those that splashed, and those that prayed. It was 5:30 AM and the sun was slowly making its ascent over the Ganges River in Varanasi, India. It is considered one of the oldest cities in the world and certainly one of the holiest. Indians from across the country make their pilgrimage to the ghats that line 7km of the river. These ghats consist of stairs descending into the cleansing waters of the Ganges. They are a continuous carnival of tourists, touts and spiritual rituals. On these steps, at any given moment, you can find people washing their cows, washing their clothes, cutting their hair, selling flowers, cremating family members, playing cricket, meditating, roller skating, sleeping, eating, having a shave, dancing, or just sitting back and enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds. It is the absolute epitome of the chaotic Indian culture, all conveniently occurring simultaneously on the miles of steps, platforms, and temples that lines the shoreline in Varanasi.As our driver continued to row, narrowly avoiding the heads of those cleansing their souls, Amanda and I watched in awe. Of course, all of this activity gives the city a magical air. It is a place of life and death. It is a place where one can witness the entire cycle of life while floating in a boat rowed by a teenager. Parents wash their newborns. The elderly rinse their pains away. The mourning say their prayers. The truly religious ring their bells and wave their flames in a nightly service thanking the Ganges for its devine power. The crematory sits on the banks as well. We passed through it often. At any hour in the day and night you will find families ritualistically burning the bodies of those they love. As their ashes join the floating candles in the river, the Hindu cycle of life and death is broken, sending their souls to a final resting place. My fingers nervously flip through my phrase book as our boat approaches a group of men squatting on the rocks drinking down the holy water from their cup-shaped hands. I want to explain to them that this holiest of holy waters is also the dirtiest. Unfortunately I am unable to find the words I want. The phrase was conveniently excluded from the pages of my guide. The Ganges River here contains over 3000 times the safe amount of faecal coliform bacteria. It is literally septic, meaning it contains no dissolved oxygen. Over 30 sewage pipes deposit directly into this nearly still river. These facts only add (considerably) to the spectacle that occurs here daily. Over 60,000 people, whether ignoring these facts or ignorant to them, happily let the filthy water surround their bodies and cleanse their souls.
We spent our three days wandering through the mazes of streets and chaos. It is hardcore India culture to the max.

Eating India

2008-06-01T23:04:00.000-07:00

As we sit down at the small Ram Raja Restaurant in the town of Orchha, a man herds his fifteen water buffalo over the adjacent bridge for a refreshing bath. The sign for the restaurant proudly reads: “Recommended by Lonely Planet”. The traveler’s bible is omnipresent. We glance at the small menu where nothing costs much more than $1. A family of about 10 noisily awakes themselves in the morning hours behind the curtain separating the street from the kitchen. We finally decide to order: Shak Shuka, an egg dish with cabbage and onions, toast and chai tea. Five minutes later a man emerges from the curtain, starts his Honda bike and motors off. After a few more moments a young boy runs towards the market, 20 rupees in hand. The tea arrives after only ten minutes. The Indians love their Masala Tea. Known as Chai to us westerners, it’s the perfect blend of spice, milk, and sugar, served in a tall glass. As we sip tea two SUV’s packed with one family arrives. They file out and head towards the restaurant. Their shotgun-armed bodyguard looking like a drunken frat boy who spent the night binge drinking follows them. They sit in a half circle of chairs in the street staring at Amanda and I center stage at our raised table.
They stare, talk about us in Hindi, and stare some more. Their tea comes out and they sip it and stare. Awkward. Finally the father convinces his son to talk to us.

“Hello, from what country?”
“USA” we reply, “Where are you from?”
“I am twelve, you my home like?”
“What?” this conversation isn’t going too far. “Is this your family?” We warily continue.
“Yes, my father, 4 sisters, uncle, two brothers, drunken, shotgun-wielding driver.” The conversation is back on track.

Just then the man on the motorcycle returns with a crate full of vegetables. We ordered 30 minutes ago and the ingredients have just arrived. At least we know they’re fresh.
The family returns to their stares and we return to our Lonely Planet. While traveling, meal times are always a great time to plan your next move. A few minutes later the other boy returns from the market with no cabbage. His father, not too pleased, sends him running back from where he came. Then a twelve year old boy emerges from the kitchen speaking perfect English to us. His brother went to buy cabbage for our meal he explains. We smile and order more tea. Then about 8 young kids run off the street through the curtain. Two minutes later, 4 different children emerge and run down the street.

The large family stands up, pays, and wanders up the road. Their body guard, who has been stroking his shotgun for the past half hour, puts it in the truck and sits back down. Families only need guarding while they’re eating.

There is a constant flow of tractors pulling water tanks. They return from the river full and cross the bridge empty. The electricity goes out, killing the Indian music and giving us a sudden silence. It is rare that electricity does not go out in most cities around here. After about 70 minutes I finally get antsy and ask the man who went to the market if the boy returned with the cabbage yet. He smiles, nods and slips behind the curtain. Twenty seconds later he returns with our meals. We devour it, taking note to avoid the butter with dead mosquitoes in it. It is delicious but there is no cabbage. We pay our bill: $2.38, and pray to the Ganesh poster on the wall that we won’t spend the next three hours in the bathroom. It’s now 8:30 AM and India is waking up. Nothing is ever as it seems in India. It truly rewards those with patience.

After breakfast we hired our guide (pictured left, photo by leighton) for the rest of India. He's not very good with the train schedules but he always leads us to the good restaurants.

The Taj Mahal

2008-05-31T07:18:00.001-07:00

How do you describe a shot of tequila? It burns as it first enters your system. Then, you feel the warmth coming from within. You beg for more. It’s funny how the same words can be used to describe India. At first we were overwhelmed by a city of more than 15 million. At first we were disheartened by all of the people pushing their products – often lying to make a sale. At first, the crowds of men huddled outside a restaurant like a pack of starving dogs waiting for scraps was appalling. Then, suddenly the warmth comes through. We see past the bad and into the good. The people are warm and friendly, the culture is well preserved, and the chaos has become quite comfortable after only a few days.

After wandering for a day through Delhi, the most overwhelming city in the world, we headed south by train to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. This is possibly the most photogenic structure ever erected by man. Its perfect symmetry and raised foundation give it a surreal appearance, not to mention the white marble that shines as bright as the day it was completed. We spent four hours looking at the Taj from every possible angle.
We are now in the small town of Khajuraho. We spent the morning strolling through the ancient Jain temples here that feature thousands of Kama Sutra carvings. It’s hot , it’s crazy, it’s India.

We've Been Published part 2

2008-05-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

In today's Tucson daily newspaper, the Arizona Daily Star, we had another article published! click on this link to read it. http://www.azstarnet.com/accent/240463

Kaup Chai Laos

2008-05-24T00:48:00.000-07:00

After Luang Probang we spent a few nights in the backpacker city of Vang Vieng. Imagine a city set in the midst of beautiful limestone karsts and rivers. Fishermen cast their nets from their long river boats. Locals cross bamboo bridges to their island homes. Dozens of restaurants blast every season of “Friends” from multiple TVs all hours of the day. Every hangout is packed with tourists who waste their day sipping “happy” shakes and watching Joey and Rachel and the rest of their Friends get out of some crazy situations. It was not exactly our idea of paradise. We then bussed it to Vientiane, the Laos capital. Here we rented a 1967 Vespa to cruise the town. It was a fitting end to this peaceful country.
It is said that Laos is the most bombed country in the world. Between 1971 and 1973, it became helplessly involved in the largest bombing raid in US history as the North Vietnames sheltered their soldiers across the border in Laos. In these 2 years, more bombs fell in Laos than were dropped during all of WWII.

Yet, in spite of all this destruction, today they are a wonderful people who have begun to embrace capitalism and open their borders to investment and tourism. We loved Laos and give it an enthusiastic two thumbs up.

Laos

2008-05-20T07:55:00.000-07:00

It’s quite humorous that I find Laos to be such an amazing country. After all life has not gone so smoothly for me since our small plane barely landed on the tarmac of the dark airport. The trouble began as I sat in the head customs agent’s office. After paying an extra dollar for my Visa because our plane landed after hours, it was pointed out to me that my passport has less than 6 months of validity left on it. Apparently I am the only world traveler that did not get this memo. I should never have a passport in this state of existence. It is nearly worthless in most countries. Lucky for us a little cash will do the trick - $120 and my meaningless identification had yet another entry stamp emblazoned in its tattered pages.

Luang Probang, in Northern Laos is referred to in our Lonely Planet guide book as the “prettiest city in Asia” This might be true. However, it has also fallen ill to the “Lonely Planet” curse. All of us loyal followers adhere to its words with the voracity to descend like the swarm of adventure-hungry independent traveling locusts that we are, destroying every town, hotel, and restaurant whose name is so fortunate to find it’s way onto the pages of the tattered Lonely Planet bible that rests clutched in the hand of every other tourist who passes. With one finger stuck in the page where a small map of the town resides, we hand over our hard earned cash in abundance, raising prices and crowding the streets with our own kind. Unfortunately, this is the exact thing we have traveled around the globe to avoid. Ahh but not all is lost. Luang Probang is simply too wonderful to be destroyed by the $800 scarves that sit on the shelves of boutique stores and the $40 French restaurants nestled between two $1 noodle soup shops. It is a town teeming with young monks who reside at its more than thirty temples. They march through the streets at 6 am collecting alms for the day from shop owners. Their mere existence is a constant reminder of the country we are visiting, - as if the beautifully colorful tuk-tuks weren’t evidence enough that this was indeed not Kansas.

It’s not so much that 23 people were crammed into the back of a truck on a journey north that bothered me. It was not the sweltering heat. The frequent and jolting stops and uncomfortable seat did not rattle me. It was not even the motorcycle that leaned on its kickstand mid-ship in the truck dripping gasoline on my foot that simply has no other spot the rest but beneath its engine. None of these things disturbed me. What nearly brought me to tears was having not a clue how long the journey would last, and that the guy next to me was smoking. Eventually we reached our destination. The beautiful city of Nong Khiaw’s small write- up in our “Lonely Planet” has spared it. A town must have a map in the guide book before the curse sets in. The swarm must know where to sleep. We lulled the day away reading from the hammocks in our private Sunrise Guesthouse bungalow ($5/night) perched high above the Nam Ou River. Massive Limestone cliffs dripping in lush jungle rose on all sides. Kids played soccer on a small island that surfaces only when the water is low. Ridiculously long river boats motored locals and tourists alike up and down stream.

So far it sounds pretty good doesn’t it? There’s just one hiccup in this story. That’s true. Then there was the fall. We had been hiking through the thick jungle, around freshly scorched rice fields, between thatch houses on stilts, and among the amiable water buffalo for three hours. We stopped every five minutes to pick leaches from our ankles. I had been telling the German in front of me about the amazing durability and usefulness of bamboo. “Did you know that pound for pound, bamboo has twice the tensile strength of steel? It is the fastest growing plant in the world – ten cm a month! It is used in Chinese scaffolding Michael! It is used in concrete as a cheap alternative to rebar! It is a truly renewable building material. You can eat it! It is godlike!” Most of these words fell from my mouth in the moments leading up to the bridge.

I never expected to fall off a bridge in the thick Jungle of Laos. Then again I never expected three sticks of such a wonderful material to give way beneath my weight, depositing me into the river below. I was not scared. Mid-air, as my arms both attempted to roll up imaginary car windows I did not think about the fact that we were thousands of miles from a Western hospital. I did not wonder if I would be hurt. I did not worry that we were three hours by foot from the nearest road. In this moment of clarity, all that passed through my head was the fact that the bamboo had failed me. I felt used.

Of course I was fine. I sat in the muck in shock for 5 seconds while my five trekking partners, Amanda included, ran to my aid. I escaped with a small scratch and nothing more.
Strike two for Laos. But I still love it. The people are amazing. The food is wonderful and the terrain absolutely surreal. I keep expecting a red Jeep to drive by with a T-Rex in close pursuit. Our hike finally brought us to the small village of Phayong. As you stroll down its dirt paths and watch the children throw chickens at each other, it is difficult to know what century it is. Under one of the 40 stilted houses a woman crushes corn with a foot powered mill. Next door, a topless woman holds her new-born slung across her back as she watches her chickens eat from an old basket of feed. Down the street, a man tends to the ten beautiful pineapples growing inside his bamboo fence. Laos is wonderful. This particular village sees about 10 tourists every month. We slept in the home of the Village Chief. For dinner and lunch we chewed on rice and green beans. Breakfast mixed it up a bit with rice and bamboo. Amanda couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She became a vestige of her lens as it pulled her toward every corner of the village. The shutter never rested more the a few seconds.
And this has been Laos. We are headed towards Vientiane, the capital, so I can replace my passport. I’m hoping I don’t receive a third strike in this country because it is really great. No one wants to see Sammy Sosa strike out. It’s just not right.

Goodbye Vietnam

2008-05-19T02:35:00.000-07:00

Like a fat kid with a fresh pizza, we have conquered Vietnam. Throughout the last three weeks we have traveled thousands of kilometers and left very few stones unturned. We went to the mountains, the beach and the cities. We traveled by boat, plain, bicycle, motorcycle, tuk-tuk, bus, train, taxi, van, and foot. We said “no” each day to approximately 6210 offers for a “moto” ride, 740 taxi rides, 590 post cards, 380 bowls of soup, 200 scarves, 120 wallets, and 60 offers for “hashish”. Vietnam is a country where you are never more than ten steps away from a hearty bowl of beef noodle soup or “Pho Bo” as long as you can handle squatting on the crowded sidewalk next to a massive boiling pot and thousands of motor bikes. It is a country where Amanda and I found ourselves ditching the hiking boots and renting motor scooters wherever we went. It is an incredible way to get past the tourist trail and truly see the country side. Vietnam is a country where, unfortunately you can trust very few. The meter on the taxi moves twice as fast as the car, the prices suddenly double after your tour is done, the “last train” is actually the first train and costs three times what the local ahead of you just paid. While this certainly wore our traveling souls thin, it was our only complaint throughout the extended visit. Only in Vietnam will twelve dollars get you a beautiful hotel room for the night and seven dollars will buy you three good meals with beer for dinner. And only in Vietnam will you find those amazing conical straw hats that turn every scene – whether city or country, into a beautiful photograph. Vietnam has been great. It is a bitter sweet ending indeed. Laos is next. Aside from streets filled with monks, we have no idea what to expect.

Halong Bay

2008-05-10T05:36:00.000-07:00

The middle of Vietnam has become a great memory. We cruised the coast by motorbike in Nah Trang. We burned our tender skin on the beautiful beach in Hoi An. We wandered through ancient streets and alleys and shared rice wine and prawns with local families on vacation. We stood in awe at the chaos of local fish markets. We had clothes made to fit at the very touristy tailor shops. We wandered tombs of ancient rulers in the old capital city of Hue. We rode bicycles through the friendliest of neighborhoods. Amanda’s camera has been busy indeed. After a day in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, we headed to Halong Bay in the northeast of Vietnam.

Halong Bay, with its beautiful limestone karsts, is an absolute must see for anyone traveling to this part of the world. Nearly two thousand islands rise from the sea in a truly stunning display of nature’s ability to produce the most beautiful scenes imaginable. Our boat slowly maneuvered through the maze of silent giants for hours on end. Our cameras snapped their way through memory cards and batteries. The islands rise from the sea in grand fashion with thick jungles looking like a full head of hair on handsome heads that stare into the crowded bay. We anchored the boat and explored further by kayak. As we navigated through multiple caves and marveled at the beauty from a closer perspective, the grandness of it all was truly humbling. We spent the first night in a bamboo bungalow on one of the secluded islands. The second night was spent among the karsts on our boat. We are now back in Hanoi awaiting an overnight train to the mountainous region of Vietnam’s northwest.

We've Been Published!!!

2008-05-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

It all started with a phone call. Now I am on the cover of a magazine with Amanda as the photographer. The spring issue of Diabetes Forecast was released on May 1st to bookshelves and its 4.4 million subscribers. You can find our article online at http://www.diabetes.org/diabetes-forecast.jsp. Amanda is a professional photographer in Tucson, AZ specializing in Weddings and Portraits. To see more of her work visit www.AmandaPetran.com

To download our article click here

Just like Vietnam

2008-05-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

Here we are. This is the controversial country. While many Americans our age strategized and struggled to stay out of Vietnam some 40 years ago, Amanda and I have now converted our hard earned dollars to Vietnamese Dong to see its sights and live its life. Despite many battles in many wars with many nations; in spite of the legacy of unexploded ordinance, Agent Orange birth defects, and a severely depleted population; even though the communists took control of a united Vietnam in 1975, it has transformed itself into a thriving and beautiful capitalist gem in the heart of Asia.

It is a small and leaky wooden boat. The barefoot man standing behind us has just ignited his 6.6 horsepower engine. Attached to the engine by way of a five ft long rod is a small propeller. It is 5 o’clock in the morning and we are motoring down one of the many rivers that connect with the mighty Mekong in the Mekong Delta region of southern Vietnam.

Skip ahead 2 hours to the floating markets of Phong Dien. This is interesting. Someone decided to place the produce section of Safeway in old wooden boats. To our left a woman in the typical Vietnamese garb of loose pajamas and a conical staw hat stands on her small craft filled with pineapples as she rows past a 30 ft long wooden vessel. This particular vessel, along with every other boat, appears to have looked old before construction was completed. It also is motivated by a propeller at the end of a long steel shaft with a hand controlled diesel motor guiding its load of lettuce deftly through this crowd of edibles. On our right a floating cold beverage stand motors by. An ice cold sweet melon tea quenches the thirst of a young Vietnamese man on his break. Shortly thereafter he resumes tossing hundreds of coconuts from his small boat up to the larger one he is tethered to. It is huge and crowded and it is beautiful.

Fast forward another 2 hours. After motoring through the small canals Amanda and I now wander by foot in confusion. Our driver has pulled over and begun to sing karaoke at one of the small houses facing this busy route of commerce. And we can’t help but wonder if the world might be a better place if we all took a ten minute break at 9 am every day to sing a few national hits.

Then we are in Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon as most of the world knows it. Thousands, no, millions of scooters buzz around us. Rather that run, we train ourselves to deftly maneuver through the swarms of Africanized Moto Bees crowding the narrow streets. The key is to keep one steady pace and like a finger in a fresh bowl of jello, they move around us. The War Remnants Museum is wonderful and devastating all at once. The American instruments of war are scattered about in the form of tanks, bombs and airplanes. None of which could stop the north. To be an American has never felt so confusing after staring at hundreds of war images and reading dozens of sad stories. We feel sorrow to know that history often repeats itself.

Yet, this is in the past and Saigon is a bustling metropolis. It also has a slow bus to Dalat where the weather is cool.

Now place Amanda on the back of a motorcycle, her arms raised at her side as she copilots her craft through the strawberry fields, flower farms, coffee plantations, rice fields, and forests of central Vietnam. The Easy Riders have become world famous for their English spoken tours of Vietnam on the back of a motorcycle. It was a beautiful ride indeed.

Fianlly, as though tearing off yesterday’s joke from my page-a-day calendar, we race down the mountains back to the coast in the city of Nha Trang; one of Vietnam’s many beach resorts. We couldn’t resist spending $4.5 dollars to rent a motorcycle for the day. Today was very hot and wonderful, just like Vietnam.

10 ways to know you're in Cambodia

2008-04-23T06:30:00.000-07:00

1. Everyone is smiling. The children, the old men, the drivers, the business-people all walk around with beautiful smiles. It is a great morale-booster that brings us a wonderfully warm feeling towards Cambodia.

2. Crossing the street requires the deftest of skills. Any leftover Frogger aficionados will truly bask in the pandemonium and complexity involved in this once simple pedestrian maneuver: One step forward, three to the left, five forward, three back, right left, whoa…hurry, hurry hurry, tuk-tuk, Lexus, truck, car, moto, cyclo, run!!

3. Hot!! Humid!! Hot!

4. If walking is not your cup of tea, Cambodia has you covered. Whether riding on the back of a scooter, sitting in a trailer behind a scooter (tuk-tuk) , taking a taxi or being pedaled around, there are always dozens of options awaiting as you step outside. Last night I woke up and took a tuk-tuk to my bathroom. It cost only 25 cents for a 10 ft journey.

5. Angkor Wat, the oldest temple in the world will absolutely blow you away. It and the many surrounding temples may possibly be the most incredible ancient architecture still standing in the world.

6. Beautiful children. Possibly the most beautiful of any country we’ve seen.

7. Favorite game in Cambodia: How many people can you fit on a motorized vehicle? 5 on a moto - no problem; 40 in the back of a truck -next challenge; 8 In a taxi - you want 4 - everyone pays for 2 spots.

8. Naked babies everywhere

9. People surviving despite their past. With Pol Pot’s reign of terror only 28 years in the past, every Cambodian was directly affected by the over 1.8 million victims of the mass genocide that occurred between 1975 and 1979. His goal was to create a world of un-educated farmers and he killed anyone who was not. It is one of the saddest histories you will find in a country yet the Khmer people live on with smiles, humor, and a persistence to push forward.

10. If the weather does not raise your internal temperature, the food will. Mild is hot, hot is face-numbing. Fish, ginger, peppers – the Khmer food is a wonderful delicacy.

It was a brief but wonderful visit to this country of impossible contrasts. The people are genuine, their government is not. The capital of Phnom Penh is lively, it’s history is anything but. Cambodia has raised the bar in Southeast Asia. Our next stop is Vietnam.

The Temples of Cambodia's Angkor Wat

2008-04-23T06:17:00.000-07:00

Don't Cry For Us Argentina

2008-04-19T20:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, it is true; Argentina is in the rear view mirror for us. It was a land of beautiful people and incredible beef. Only in Argentina can you swear on your life that “this is the best steak I’ve ever had” every time you order it, no matter how many successive nights in the past the exact same words were uttered from the same lips. Only in Argentina can you find the highways littered with elaborate shrines to national heroes routinely visited by passers by and pilgrims alike. Only in Argentina can you find Leighton and Amanda making such a fuss with the police that they talk them down from jail to a $300 fine, to a $30 fine, to “have a nice day”. It seems the insurance card expired the day after we rented the car and fortunately it only cost us an hour on the side of the highway speaking broken Spanish to the police until they left us alone.

Leaving Argentina meant more than simply saying goodbye to another country. This was our last South American Country and the mid-way point on our journey. While it had its ups (did I mention the beef) and its downs (run-ins with the law), Navigating its highways and roads uncovered some truly wonderful experiences for us. Perhaps better than any other country we have visited; we were able to see it as more than just tourists. We camped, we drove, we stopped, and we talked. It was a country that begged to be explored as it keeps so many gems hidden from plain view. Such was our favorite stop – La Cumbre, a small town barely mentioned in the guide books.

Farewell Argentina. Hello Los Angeles?

We flew to the entertainment capital of the world for a two day layover on our way to Asia. Though we visited with my family and spent a day lounging at the pool, we were able to squeeze in some sightseeing. Amanda and I had always thought L.A. was big, dirty and crowded. After visiting South America it has never looked so good.

After our two day vacation from our vacation it was back to work as we boarded our Bangkok-bound flight. Twenty-four hours later we were getting buckets of water poured down our pants as we hauled our tired, hot, sweaty bodies with large bags attached through the streets of Bangkok searching for a hotel with A/C. It was the last day of the Songkran or Lunar New Year celebration and much to our horror – lots of water is involved. However, water is not so bad when it is 95 degrees out with 90% humidity.

We are now in Cambodia to see the famous Angkor Wat jungle temples (anyone seen Tomb Raider?) We are excited to be in such a new and different parcel of the world. We have 6 weeks in Asia and no itinerary – it should be quite a ride.

Argentina slide show

2008-04-14T18:29:00.001-07:00

click here to view slideshow in a larger window

Iguazu Falls

2008-04-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

It was a long drive coming to Iguazu Falls; nineteen hours to be exact. Located at the extreme north of Argentina, these famous waterfalls split the borders between Brazil and Argentina; Paraguay only a few miles to the west.

The junction of these three countries hosts one of the world’s most spectacular displays of falling water. Surrounded by thick jungle, the Iguazu River widens and splits into dozens of separate and distinct falls – over 2 km across in total. The main event is the Garganta del Diablo or Devil’s Throat. A massive horseshoe shaped waterfall that drenches anyone within 50 yards with a thick mist.

There is much more to this natural reserve than its water. Wildlife roams all around the many visitors. In just one day, we saw snakes, Coatis, the 1-inch long Tiger Ant, and a beautiful Toucan.

It was another beautiful sight to check off our list.

Rally Argentina

2008-04-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

It was cold and dark in La Cumbre, Argentina. Of course most places in this world do tend to exhibit these two qualities at 5:30 in the morning. The big issue with this particular morning was the rain. It was the sort of constant, drenching rain that has the distinct ability to slowly permeate through even the most expensive rain jacket.
After enduring the dark, cold, and rain, the wind that soon followed then completed the perfect square of fall weather just outside of Cordoba. We sat in the centersoaking it all in.

While most of the world chooses to sleep, read the paper, sip some coffee, or possibly stumble home from the bar at this early hour, Amanda and I packed up our tent and began the 4 mile trek to the starting line of the 2008 WRC Rally Argentina. For those of you unfamiliar with a WRC rally, I highly recommend you spend a few seconds, minutes, or hours browsing their website. You will most certainly find clips and highlights of this unique race the Amanda and I so eagerly wanted to witness.

Though we knew it would be highly attended and a bit mad, (we are in Argentina) we eagerly trudged past hundreds of people from around the world on our march to the start. We arrived to a massive crowd perched across the soaked countryside. The star attraction, a lone dirt road, wound its way through the grassy rolling hills and crowds of the Sierra Chicas Mountains. We perched ourselves next to a loud group still drinking in their tent from the night before. At 7:44, the hills rose to life as the distinct sound of a highly turbocharged 4 cylinder engine breathed more life into an already raucous crowd.

The mud flew everywhere as the first driver navigated the first hill on the first leg of Rally Argentina 2008. Narrowly missing a massive tree as he slid on the wet surface, the engine then roared as all four wheels struggled for grip, found it, and catapulted its two occupants around the corner where Amanda and I watched in awe and anticipation. The taillights shone through the thick rain as the race car disappeared into the mist beyond us.

For the next two hours we stuck to our corner as every two minutes another car would fly down the hill, find its way around the corner and explode into a thick fog and out of our sight.

The crowd was rowdy, the track was messy, and the morning was over before 10 AM.
While we where only able to witness the first leg of over 40, it was one we will never forget. As we began the trek back to our car, the clouds began to lift, the crowd began to disperse, and the drivers flew by us on their way to the next starting line. All we could do was smile.

Difunta Correa

2008-03-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

During the Civil wars of the 1840’s in Argentina, Deolinda Correa became lost in the desert while attempting to follow her husband's battalion. When her food and water ran out, she died of thirst and exhaustion. However, in passing, someone discovered her young baby nursing on the dead woman’s breast – still alive. It was proclaimed a miracle. Now, many decades later, she has become Argentina's favorite soul, unrecognized by the church, yet worshipped by many Argentineans.

Her shine is located in Difunta Correa, a town that has grown around the site of her death. People visit from around the country both thanking her and asking her for their own special miracle. Whether it is a scale model of a newly acquired hotel, an ultrasound image of their unborn child, a wedding dress, a photo of a new vehicle, or a bowling trophy, hundreds of thousands of offerings now litter the shrine.

As Easter is one of her biggest days, the Argentines flocked in droves to thank Difunta Correa, as she is now called, for her deeds. Whether by bike, horse, truck, foot, or even crawling, they came to pay homage to this giving soul. Smaller shrines dot the Argentine highways with stacks of bottled water. These offerings represent the water she needs to keep her soul alive in the desert.

Amanda and I strolled through the town for hours, observing this incredibly vibrant religious ceremony. It was a surreal experience not to be forgotten and certainly the most interesting Easter Amanda and I have ever had.

Argentina: Tango, Wine, Ruth and Rosie

2008-03-22T06:28:00.000-07:00

We love traveling. The feeling of placing everything you own on your back and heading to a different new and exciting place every few days is certainly a thrill. We taste new food, drink strange beer, see odd animals, talk to foreign people, and spend our days worrying about where to go next or which hotel to sleep in. However, Amanda and I also love our families, our country, our familiar surroundings, our friends, our belongings, our jobs, our TV shows, our Targets and Best Buys. These are gone when we travel. Sure, every now and then we can catch a TV show in English, or scarf down a cone from McDonalds. We talk on the phone to our families and email our friends. We listen to our ipod and get excited when we meet other Americans. Yet, no matter how many things we can find that remind us of home, nothing is better than a visit from our mom.

Guess who was waiting for us in Buenos Aires with a beautiful hotel room and a bag of Chocolates? That’s right Amanda’s mom Ruth and her aunt Rosie.

It was great to see them and we had some amazing adventures in the past week. We strolled through the massive avenues of beautiful Buenos Aires taking in the smell of diesel buses and general commotion of this ever –so-European city. We saw the grave of Evita sitting among the wealthiest tombs we have ever witnessed in the Cemetario de la Recoleta. It was “Keeping up With Jones’: After-Life Edition” as every monument was grander than its neighbor. Marble buildings rose in spires 60 feet high with elaborate busts, statues, and manicured landscapes guarding the wealthy families contained within. It was a fascinating way to spend a few hours roaming through the maze of this wealthy, yet very quiet city of tombs.

We added a country to our list – Uruguay. It was a 1 hr ferry ride so- why not? For obvious reasons I spent the day looking for a shirt that just read “Uruguay” but had no luck.

As Buenos Aires is the birthplace of Tango, we stopped into the famous Tortoni Café for a late night Tango show. That is one sexy dance.

On our 5th day we rented the smallest car ever made with 4 doors and a trunk and drove for 14 hrs straight to Mendoza on the opposite end of the country. Go ahead, look at a map. It was fairly uneventful aside from the massive demonstrations blocking the highway every 100 km or so. Oh and we also got lost on a dirt road for an hour while trying to avoid a demonstration, almost got stuck, and thought we might die. Other than that, the girls, Amanda, and I kept up good conversation and the 14 hours flew by! Not really but we did make it to Mendoza.

Being the lover of wine that she is, Ruth wanted to come to Mendoza as it is the wine capital of Argentina, known around the world for its Malbec red wines (they are excellent if you haven’t tried one). We took the Chevy for a wine tour stopping at about 4 vineyards and having a delightful lunch in a lawn under the shade of a massive tree. Because we were feeling so at home with Ruth and Rosie providing excellent company, we decided to have a taste of home by dining at an excellent Mexican restaurant. Believe it or not, good Mexican food is extremely hard to find in South America.

We took a road trip to the mountains yesterday and had young goat for lunch, a very hairy meat.

We’ve really loved visiting with Ruth and Rosie the past few days. The conversations have ranged from “what kind of meat are we eating” to “when are we going to finally get married”. It was excellent indeed to have a slice of home delivered to our doorstep in Buenos Aires.

Thanks for visiting Ruth and Rosie, and thanks for the wonderful food and hotels.

Now that they are gone its back to the budget and back to dorm rooms. We have a car, a tent, and 18 days left in Argentina before we head to Southeast Asia. Home is great but right now the open road is even better.

Landscapes of Chile

2008-03-16T19:56:00.000-07:00

Click here to view slideshow in a larger window.

Torres Del Paine

2008-03-16T19:29:00.000-07:00

TORRES DEL PAINE NATIONAL PARK, PATAGONIA, CHILE: 5 DAY TREK OF THE “W”.

DAY 1
DESTINATION: GLACIER TORRES AND THE TORRES
BASE CAMP: REFUGIO LAS TORRES
DISTANCE: 10 MILES
TIME: 8 HRS
WEATHER: MOSTLY CLOUDY, MODERATE WIND.
COMMENTS:
After stepping off our bus at 11:00 AM, We began our grueling trek to the famous Torres (towers) of Torres del Paine national park. As we reached the summit, we found the three towers suspended from the low clouds. The melting glacier below fed hundreds of small water falls that opened to a milky-blue lake below. We didn’t have much time to enjoy as we had to get back before dark. The Refugio was truly beautiful: an eco-lodge of perfect proportions. The food was great, the bunks were comfortable, and we were absolutely exhausted after just one day.

DAY 2
DESTINATION: LOS CUERNOS
BASE CAMP: REFUGIO LOS CUERNOS
DISTANCE: 8 MILES
TIME: 5 HRS
WEATHER: MORNING RAIN, PARTLY SUNNY AFTERNOON
COMMENTS:
The park is incredible. Around every corner is a view more spectacular than the last. This was our easy day. The lodge is more rustic with gas lamps and solar electricity.

DAY 3
DESTINATION: FRENCH VALLEY
BASE CAMP: REFUGIO PAINE GRANDE
DISTANCE: 14.5 MILES
TIME: 10.5 HRS
WEATHER: BEAUTIFUL
COMMENTS:
Now things are really getting interesting! After the rising sun cast its deep orange glow on the towering Cuernos above our lodge, we ate a quick breakfast and began our most challenging day. The French Valley did not disappoint. The massive Cuernos (Horns) guided us into this ancient valley littered with active glaciers. It was hard to hike for more than 20 minutes without hearing the thunderous moans of the French Glacier as it constantly deposited massive sections of its low hanging ice to the valley below. We never thought mountains could speak! These spectacular avalanches were just one of the many highlights of the valley. The 360 degree views often stopped us in our tracks. We had to move fast to finish this section in daylight, but not too fast to miss the beauty of it all. We ended the trek with some Pisco Sours in the lodge – a Chilean drink made from pisco alcohol. Amanda and I have officially put Torres Del Paine on our top 5 list after today’s hike. We highly recommend it!

DAY 4
DESTINATION: GLACIER GREY
BASE CAMP: REFUGIO GREY
DISTANCE: 7 MILES
TIME: 4.5 HRS
WEATHER: SUNNY, WIND GUSTS UPS TO 50 MPH!
COMMENTS:

We took our time this morning as another short hike lay ahead. We arrived at the glacier awestruck by its presence. The north end of Lake Grey is met by towering columns of jagged ice shooting up from the surface to form Glacier Grey. Massive chunks of ice radiating a magnificent blue light floated down the lake after separating from the glacier. The winds were constantly making us lose our balance as we stood to take photos and admire the glacier. It is a different world in Patagonia. The earth is alive with shifting ice, violent swings in weather, and magnificently jagged cliffs and mountains. We’ve spoken little Spanish lately; Patagonia is littered with Americans, Europeans, and even the occasional Chilean.

DAY 5
DESTINATION: PUERTO NATALES
BASE CAMP: N/A
DISTANCE: 10 MILES
TIME: 6 HRS
WEATHER: MORNING RAIN, CLEAR AFTERNOON
COMMENTS:

I took a dip in the glacier water today. My “macho juices”, as Amanda calls it, got flowing and I joined a friend from Norway for some ice swimming. After stripping down and wading knee high into the water for about 2 minutes, I looked to Morten and thought: ‘What am I, a guy from the Arizona desert, doing in a glacier lake with hundreds of ice cubes bigger than my last apartment accompanied a guy who probably took showers colder than this as a child in Norway?’ I suspect Morten was more concerned with hypothermia as he stared back at me. Whatever the case, we both dove in head first followed by a fast sprint back to the shore. I finally gained feeling in all my toes again about an hour later. It rained all morning. We took a chance by skipping the early bus and taking the bonus side hike for another view of the Cuernos from across the lake. This paid off tenfold as the clouds parted and gave us some spectacular skies.

SYNOPSIS
TOTAL DISTANCE: 50 MILES
TOTAL HIKING TIME: 34 HOURS

COMMENTS:
Incredible and highly recommended! Now we are in Argentina, the final country on our list in South America.

Sailing Patagonia

2008-03-06T14:50:00.000-08:00

Our 410 ft long vessel, the Navimag Evangelistas, is first and foremost a cargo ship. However, above its two floors of produce, vehicles, goods, and containers, are three levels of fairly comfortable guest accommodations. In this particle sailing, 180 passengers from all over the world have gathered to take part in what could be the most visually interesting boat ride on the planet from Puerto Montt to Puerto Natales in Southern Patagonia. Please keep in mind, however, that I have not had the pleasure of partaking in many boat rides in my life. Nonetheless, the last four days have been a bit mystical, completely relaxing, and altogether amazing. We spent many hours standing on one of our three viewing decks as this fantastic scenery glided past us at the perfect speed; not so fast that you miss the details, not so slow that you’d rather watch Happy Feet in the cafeteria (it was an option!) The rugged terrain of Patagonia and the southern tip of the almighty Andes spill into the channels and fjords about 100 yards from either side of the boat as though they are wearing their best outfits and displays for this parade of giants.

We came prepared to spend our days writing or reading books, editing the thousands of photographs we have acquired in the last 70 days, sleeping, relaxing, studying Spanish. Yet, here we are on the last day of our voyage and mostly we’ve just stood in awe of the amazing scenery as it marches past our sturdy ship. When the scenery is not changing, the weather is. Yesterday, when we started to grow a bit bored we looked off the starboard side to see an old cargo shipped parked on a rock. It was an attempt at insurance fraud in 1963. However, once the investigation ensued on the Cotopaxi Vessel, it was discovered that the cargo was not lost in the wreckage; instead it was sold off in Uruguay the week prior. The captain spent some time in prison. Getting back to our sea story though, from the ship we have seen dolphins, whales, penguins, cormorants, sea lions, and a fat Chilean guy sing Italian love songs with his keyboard playing backup. Yes, this is the entertainment on a cargo ship.

We then set our course for Poi XI, the largest Glacier in South America. This 3 mile wide earthmover spills into the ocean like a massive lava flow. It averages 300 ft high and stretches for 10 miles through the Chilean southern ice flow that divides Chile and Argentina in the south. We were sad to hear that this behemoth, much like 80% of the world’s glaciers, began retreating a few years back, finally ending its many-decades long battle with global warming.

We are now on the final stretch of the voyage. We have passed the narrowest strait - just 260 ft wide. As I sit in the lounge and look right, all I see is clouds through the window. As I look left, ocean. It is very windy today and boat likes to lean. The next five days will be spent on the trails of Torres Del Paine; one of the most famous parks in South America. You’ll recognize the pictures when you see them on our blog next week. Until then – bon voyage.

Muy Rapido

2008-03-03T08:51:00.000-08:00

It’s been a long while since we last posted to our Blog. Some may blame it on laziness; others may call it the natural progression of things as excitement fades. However, the true culprit of our lengthy interval is simply a lack of time. Unlike Peru and Bolivia, we have been moving at an incredible pace in Chile. Entire towns are seen in one morning as we wait for our bus to the next. We are now sitting in a café in Puerto Montt awaiting the departure of our 4 day ferry headed for Southern Patagonia. We are extremely excited. The Navimag (our boat) spends only a fraction of its trip on the open seas. Three days of our journey will be spent threading the needle of the hundred of fjords and glaciers that spot the landscape between here and Puerto Natales. And though we are on the edge of our seats with anticipation for the next 12 days, much has happened in the last 12 days.

We have completed two 8 hr day hikes. The first hike was through the Reserva Nacional Altos Lircay near the town of Talca. This grueling trek was certainly worth the nearly 1 mile vertical with stunning views of multiple volcanoes. The dust and dirt have permanently deposited themselves on all of our clothes from this hike. The second departed from the mountain tourist town of Pucon through Huerquehue National Park. This stunning jaunt passed 4 beautiful lakes with a massive, smoking, perfectly conical volcano (Volcon Villarica) off in the distance.

From Talca, (the dusty town) we took a wine tour as this is Chile’s largest wine region. We were able to taste 26 varieties of grapes and tour the entire process from grape to bottle. March is the month for harvesting; making our grapes perfectly ripe and absolutely delicious. The wine was good too.

From Talca we stopped in Chillan for the markets. Amanda snapped over 200 photos of the largest fruit, vegetable and meat market we have yet to witness. We then bussed it to Pucon. This town lives at the base of the aforementioned smoking volcano. Tours depart for the crater every morning but Amanda and I thought we’d avoid the boulders that are constantly rolling down the mountain and head to the national park instead. This very active volcano is reliably emitting its sulfuric gases, occasional lava flows and earth- shaking rumbles but the tourists just keep coming to the beautiful lake side town of Pucon.

After a two night stop in Puerto Varas, we rented our first car with another couple from Vancouver. The last four days were spent on the Islands of Chiloe. This community of fishing villages is a glimpse of Chile’s past. With a nearly 100% employment rate and some absolutely beautiful beach and village scenes, it truly captured our attention. On the island we were able to see 2 species of Penguins and dozens of different birds off the town of Ancud. These colonies head South or North in March. Though many had already left, it was by far the closest we have ever come to these quirky creatures.

And now I bring you back to were we started – sitting in a café waiting for our boat. We have a 5 day hike planned for Torres Del Paine in Patagonia. It’s going to be an incredible 12 days.

Helado Land

2008-02-20T17:11:00.000-08:00

Say it with me: Chee – Lay
After building up Chile and placing it on our proverbial pedestal as the solution to all our woes in Bolivia, (see previous posts) it has certainly lived up to our high expectations. As we stepped out of our taxi onto the busy streets of Santiago, we were astonished by the stark contrasts one can’t help but notice when compared to the third world Bolivia that borders this thin country of Chile. Only twenty years after the rule of the infamous dictator Pinochet, Chile has risen to become the 37th most developed country in the world, and by far the most western in South America. What does this mean to Amanda and Leighton?; paved roads, air conditioned buses, hot showers, supermarkets, meters in taxis, and prices at least 5 times more than those of its neighbors to the north.

We spent three days wandering the ice-cream laden streets of Santiago. It seems that every meal in Chile has ice cream in it. Amanda and I are in ice cream heaven! We then took a 2 hour ride to the coastal village of Valparaiso. This hilly city packs more charm and character in its hills and valleys than Fox’s latest installment of The Bachelor. The hills were alive with beautiful homes and graffiti art. We spent a day burning our pale bodies at the unspoiled Playa Grande (Big Beach) in the town of Quintay, 1 hour south of Valparaiso. There is a certain charm to Chile that seems to have captivated Amanda and I. It has fully embraced wealth and development, yet somehow managed to bring its good friends tradition and culture along for the ride.

Yes, Chile seems to be to cure to all of our ailments. We have an 8 hr day hike to tire us out early tomorrow morning, then we are heading further and further south towards Patagonia. Chile is beautiful, friendly, western, and expensive. – Just like home but with more Spanish accents.

PS.leave comments, we miss everyone.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2008-02-14T17:06:00.000-08:00

It was on this day 7 years ago that I first asked Amanda for her phone number.

Leighton’s Tips for Traveling in Bolivia

2008-02-13T09:53:00.000-08:00

Consider the following some of the most insider information one can obtain on the subject of traveling in Bolivia. This information will not be found in any guide books new or old. Any persons reading this should take careful note if their plans include a stop in Bolivia.

1. No matter what, something will get stolen, robbed, pick pocketed, or lost in the laundry while in Bolivia. This is an absolute guarantee. To avoid these mishaps I have a few suggestions: either take only the clothes on your back, (but don’t be surprised if they manage to steal even these) or carry a time-lock steel safe to keep your belongings in, or take two of everything. This includes things like the aforementioned safe.

2. Your first stop in every city should be the tourist police, or, in many cases, some perfectly fine police station that refuses to help you and sends you on a wild goose chase to find the proper station. Once you do finally arrive at one of these extremely modern technological wonders of a facility, check your belongings, something was certainly stolen in the process of getting to the station and you should have no problem reporting this to the police. Make sure you have at least 5 hours as they will have to speak to every one in the station and make 467 printouts before finally inserting the paper the correct way into the printer and handing you the all important police report so that you can report the theft to the insurance you should have purchased before departing the safe zone, aka the United States.

3. You will get food poisoning. Even if you only eat freeze dried ice cream that you stocked up on in the gift shop at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum before departing, you will get sick. The air in Bolivia seems to deposit stomach-crushing bacteria on all food once it is exposed.

4. Regarding #3, purchase three doses of every antibiotic on the shelves of Walgreens before departing. However, don’t expect miracles – you will still destroy at least 67 toilets no matter how long your stay in Bolivia.

5. Bring a journal labeled either: “Why don’t they?”, “They should”, or “I don’t understand why they don’t.” You will find blaringly obvious money-making business plans that should exist, confusing business practices, and a whole lot of people trying to make money doing the exact same thing as everyone else on that same corner or town. This journal should be at least 1000 pages long and should be accompanied by various writing instruments as it will be the main outlet to vent your frustrations with the disappointingly poor tourist infrastructure in Bolivia. For instance, why does everyone sell the exact same tours? Maybe if you departed 30 minutes later, every stop wouldn’t be filled with the same 1300 white people you saw 30 minutes ago at the hot springs. And why isn’t their a hovercraft I can ride in the salt flats? And why is the only decent food in every town a pizza that isn’t even decent – to name a few entries.

6. If you receive paper money as change at the restaurant or travel agency that is cracked, torn, bent, wrinkled, stained, or simply doesn't look right. Walk straight to the nearest pile of trash (they don’t believe in trash cans) and chuck it. It is worthless. Even the poorest old lady selling gum in the street won’t accept your crappy bill unless it is shiny new and steam pressed.

7. Never expect anything from anyone – because that is exactly what you will get.

8. Look for the restaurants with children under the age of 10 working in them. They are the only ones where you can get your meal inside of 2 hours as their young souls have not yet been broken by working 12 hours each day at a restaurant.

9. If you’re from the USA, bring $100. We are lucky to be citizens of the only nation in this world that must open our wallets to enter this beautiful country ( see #1,2, the theft begins before touching foot on its land)

10. If you plan to visit during the month of February, purchase some sort of water- proof protection. As a tourist during Carnaval, you will get bruised, and beaten down by every man woman and child armed with water balloons, buckets of water, water guns, hoses, and any other device that can be used in some way shape or form to soak a tourist.

11. Know that in spite of all its imperfections, it is a beautiful country with some wonderful people and extremely dramatic landscapes that we will always remember.

12. If you don’t like Michael Bolton, bring ear plugs.

10 Billion Tons of Salt

2008-02-13T09:12:00.000-08:00

Salar De Uyuni is the largest salt flat in the world. For more than 7500 sq mi, all one can see is salt. Except in our case, all we could see is water – about 4” deep covering the vast plane as it does every year during the rainy season.

It was the first stop on our three day tour of the high deserts of southwestern Bolivia. Our Land Cruiser drove about 10km onto the flat to a hotel built entirely of - you guessed it, salt. We drove past many miners who work the flats for a living – shipping salt around the world. Who knows, the rim of that margarita you enjoyed the other day may have been salted with the famous white stuff from Bolivia. It made for some absolutely surreal photos.

Our venerable Land Cruiser and its driver then took us to numerous spots of memorable beauty. The Dali Desert was aptly named as its strange rock formations, endless vistas, colorful mountains, and lifeless beauty were plucked straight from the background of the strangest Salvador Dali painting. We saw thousands of pink flamingos living in the Red Lakes of the high desert. We climbed to about 16,500 ft to see geysers and boiling water noisily churning below our feet. We saw rocks shaped like trees and birds, and witnessed thousands of llamas and vicunas, a relative of the camel. We listened to the same Michael Bolton songs over and over as this was our driver’s only CD. Who knew anyone willingly listened to Michael Bolton?

On the final day we cooked our frozen bodies in some very hot springs at about 15000 ft with dozens of other tourists. We then motored over to the green lake – made this way from the borax and copper deposits within. We saw dozens of snow capped volcanoes – some over 22,000 ft high – an eerie sight in an otherwise dry, treeless, summer desert.

Overall, it was some of the most magnificently strange scenery we have ever seen. Even the hoards of tourists and Land Cruisers following the exact same path - and the hours of Michael Bolton blasting through one sad speaker, could not deter from the captivating beauty of these barren landscapes. It was oddly similar to our home in Arizona, yet unlike anything we have ever seen.

Uyuni, the small salt mining town were we now are waiting for a train, is our last stop in Bolivia. Today, we will head back to La Paz to catch a flight to Santiago, Chile. We are happy to have visited this confusing country called Bolivia. However, we are also happy to be leaving. We are excited to be heading towards a developed country with safe drinking water, paved roads, and western comforts. Believe it or not, we have not run across a single McDonalds or Starbucks in the last 50 days – its strange the things you start to miss when you are living so far from home.

Carnaval 2008 Oruro, Bolivia - What a Party!

2008-02-04T08:25:00.000-08:00

The World´s Most Dangerous Road

2008-02-01T10:28:00.001-08:00

It’s official. According to a study by the Inter-American Development Bank, the road between La Paz and Coroico in Bolivia is the World’s Most Dangerous Road. On average, no fewer than 26 vehicles per year fall victim to its eroding foundations, narrow passes, and harsh weather.

To stay safe, we rode bikes.

The ride began at just under 16,000 ft in snowy conditions. Keep in mind Bolivia is in the middle of summer. Amanda, myself, a Brit and our guide experienced many terrains and many climates. The ride is 40 miles long and descends 11,500 ft in 5 hours. Snow soon turned to rain. The intense fog clouded our views of the dizzingly steep cliffs that dropped to one side of the 12-ft wide dirt road. The fog cleared as we entered the Yungas jungle of Bolivia – one of the largest Coca producing regions of the world.

Keep in mind that while coca is the origin of cocaine, the vast majority of coca leaves from Bolivia are chewed by the locals – a practice that dates back to 2000 BC in the Andes. The plant has many healing qualities including the ability to stabilize glucose levels, and cure altitude sickness – a common occurrence in these high plains.

Along the way we passed hundreds of waterfalls. In one case we had to ride our bikes right through one. The pavement turned to narrow dirt road which turned to single track. Multiple land slides blocked the road – common for the rainy season. While the massive slides forced us to walk our bikes – it also limited the number of vehicles on the road.

Amanda and I rode bikes down the Worlds Most Dangerous Road and lived to tell about it, unlike many tourists before us. The company B-Side Adventures was a great choice. We had full suspension Iron Horse Bicycles that rode like a dream. We ended in the hot springs of Coroico overlooking sections of this incredible road.

We are now in Oruro, Bolivia for Carnaval; one of the top ten places in the world to be for Carnaval. We look forward to sharing it with you right here in about 4 days.

People of Peru

2008-01-26T18:29:00.000-08:00

Click here to view slideshow in a larger window

Las Islas Flotillas (The Floating Islands)

2008-01-26T17:26:00.000-08:00

After a wonderful 10 days in and around Cuzco, Amanda and I had a fitting farewell to this beautiful part of the world with some tea overlooking La Catedral in the Plaza de Armas.

The next morning we crammed into a bus full of gringos headed for Lake Titicaca; Puno, Peru to be exact. After Cuzco, Puno is a sad sight. Gone are the beautiful stone Inca ruins and cobblestone streets. Here in Puno we have mud buildings, muddy streets, and mud everywhere else you look. What Puno does have going for it is the beautiful Lake Titicaca; the largest lake in South America, and the highest navigable in the world at over 12,600 ft.

We couldn´t wait to visit the famous Floating Islands of Uros. We booked our tour and hopped on the slowest boat ever built to began our crawl towards the only islands in the world made entirely of grass reeds. For centuries, the people of Uros have lived in peace on their man-made islands. Floating in roughly 60 ft of water, these 28 islands support 8-15 families each. They each last about 10 years after which the inhabitants begin constructing another reed island that is about 7 ft thick. It is not uncommon for islanders to remove their anchors and float away from ill-behaved neighbors, or loud house parties. They use solar panels for their televisions and eat trout three times a day."Strange" and "confusing" might be the simplest way to describe these ancient, yet constantly refurbished islands.

After 2 hours on Uros we headed 3 hours south by boat to the island of Amantani. This bona fide land island was a tranquil stop on our journey. We stayed in a local family´s home and enjoyed vegitarian meals. After playing soccer, we did some hiking to get an amazing 360 degree view of the 4500 sq. mi. lake. We had dinner and then dressed in traditional clothing for the big party. It was entirely staged for the tourists but Amanda and I danced our hearts out soaked it all in.

After a brief visit to the neighboring island of Taquile, we headed back to the not so beuatiful Puno. Tomorrow we depart for Bolivia, the second country on our list of 11. Now things are really getting interesting!

26

2008-01-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

Amanda and I celebrated my 26th birthday in grand fashion. There was live Peruvian music and dancing at the famous "El Truco" restaurant in Cusco. At one point the lights went dim, the band sang happy birthday in Spanish, and an enormous chocolate cake was brought out. The waiters threw their metal trays on the ground for noise. It was fantastic.

INCAredible

2008-01-22T10:01:00.000-08:00

The last 10 days in Peru have been filled with vibrant cities, scenic vistas, ancient ruins, and frequent rain. After Nazca, we spent 2 days in Arequipa, and then headed to Cuzco.

Known as the white City, Arequipa is a beautiful metropolis constructed almost entirely from an off-white volcanic rock. It rests in the shadows of the massive El Misti. This active volcano is the source of the sillar from which the city is built. In Arequipa we strolled through the beautiful Monasterio de Santa Catalina and dined in the surprisingly European restaurants. It is a very beautiful city indeed.

Cuzco is a city steeped in cultural history. It is known as the capital of the all-encompassing Inca Empire of the 14th and 15th centuries. Although the city was mostly destroyed by the Spanish Conquest in 1533, many ruins of the ancient Inca city remain as the foundations for newer buildings. The narrow cobblestone streets take us back to a time before trucks and before the Europeans. Many ruins of ancient cities surround Cuzco making this city the most visited location in South America and also the longest continuously inhabited city. It was from Cuzco that Huayna Capac, the last great Inca King ruled his empire that spanned from Ecuador south to Argentina – The largest in the Americas.

Since the Spanish conquest, by far the biggest event to hit Cuzco was the rediscovery of the lost Inca city Machu Picchu in 1911 by Yale professor Hiram Bingham. This hidden city was never discovered by the Spaniards as it rested high atop an Andean Plateau. The Inca’s worked hard to keep the city a secret as it was considered the most sacred in the Empire for its location relevant to the sun, stars, the Urubamba River, and snow-capped mountains.

Our 4 day trek on the Inca trail to the lost city began on a cloudy day. We hiked 45 KM in 4 days. Along with the 14 foreigners and 2 guides, 20 local porters carried everything from sleeping bags to food to dining tents and propane tanks. We had multi course meals at every sitting and enjoyed the company of 14 travelers united to hike one of the oldest roads in the Americas. Each morning we were awoken by a porter with a cup of tea for us. We would eat and begin our trek while the porters packed up camp and passed us on their way to the next camp site. Along the way we heard endless stories of the mysterious Incas, roamed through countless ruins ranging from lookout points to agricultural and astronomical research facilities, and climbed thousands upon thousands of stairs through the cloud forest and Andean jungle. It was an absolutely amazing experience pinnacled by an 8 hour visit to Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu is the epitome of Inca architecture. It features active plumbing and shadow-less city planning. Devices for viewing the sun and monitoring the stars are built into its temples. Terraced microclimates gave the Incas the ability to harvest hundreds of different crops; all this from carved granite stones. It is unfortunate that so little is known of this once great empire. Amanda and I have been in awe of their amazing architecture and beautiful ancient cities. We will never forget our Inca trail journey and the many memories we made along the way.

Nazca Lines

2008-01-10T11:55:00.000-08:00

Consisting of over 300 geometric figures, 800 straight lines, and 70 biomorphic drawings in the sand, the Nazca Lines in Peru are one of the world’s greatest archaeological mysteries. It is widely believed that many generations of the ancient Paracas and Nazca cultures dating from 900 BC to AD 600 constructed the lines by simply re-arranging the desert floor. The unique environment of this 500 square km of vast desert, named the Pampa Colorado, has preserved these ancient drawings for thousands of years.

Discovered in the 1920’s by the first commercial flights over Peru, the Nazca Lines are best viewed by air.

While the various birds, whales, hands, and other geomorphic figures can span up to 180 meters across, it is the miles upon miles of straight continuous lines criss-crossing this vast desert that truly captivate one’s curiosity.

Why did this primitive culture spend hundreds of years creating such curious shapes in this seemingly lifeless land? Were they gifts to the gods, landing strips for alien ships, a map of various underground water sources, or possibly the world’s largest astrological calendar? Furthermore, how could they have been constructed with such precision if they can only be viewed from above?

Many theories abound. None are very convincing.

We spent about 35 minutes flying above these fascinating creations in a small Cesna 172 airplane. While the world may never know the true meaning of these archaic lines, they are truly a captivating sight. Once in the air, it is clear that this desert is one of the largest pieces of canvas on which an ancient culture has created art on a truly magnificent scale. It is a beautiful mystery that not even Robert Stack can likely solve.

Huancavelica of a good time!

2008-01-06T14:08:00.000-08:00

Huancavelica, Peru is a small town crammed between the walls of a massive Andean valley. We arrived via a terrifying highway that meticulously wound its way through the high Andes. We were greeted by a week-long festival to celebrate the arrival of the Three Kings after the Birth of Jesus. Locals danced down the streets while a 20-piece orchestra followed their slow progression. The smell and sound of fireworks has become a staple in our short visit to Huancavelica.

Huancavelica is steeped in controversial history. When they arrived, the Spaniards exploited the native Incas to mine the extremely poisonous mercury that rests in the hills. It is estimated that 11 million Incas died in the two hundred years of the mines’ existence. Once the entire Inca population of the area became extinct, Africans were shipped in to continue the genocide. Furthermore, to feel more at home, the Spaniards would organize a running of the bulls. However, these bulls would simply chase the natives into the mines where they would eventually die from mercury poisoning. There even lies somewhere deep within the Santa Ana Mine a vacant city where workers used to live as they were exploited.

Despite this very grave history, the town sure knows how to party. The culmination of this festival to honor Jesus Christ came last night. As Amanda and I perched ourselves on the steps of the ancient Iglesia de San Francisco, we couldn’t believe our eyes as locals began carrying out massive, fire-breathing contraptions constructed of bamboo, rope and enough pyrotechnics to put Disneyland to shame. These 40 ft tall monsters named Caballos (Horses) would spit every color of flame, sparks, noise and light into a spectacular crowd of onlookers.

Small children would dance in the falling flames and massive fireworks exploded in every direction not more than 20 feet from our stoop. It was one of the greatest parties ever and will truly hold a special place in our hearts.

Today we climbed roughly 1000 feet out of the canyon that holds Huancavelica to a church that overlooks the town. It was a spectacular vista that made for some unique photos as locals attended mass in an unfinished cathedral with no walls.

We plan to head for the beach early Monday morning to Pisco. It will be a nice respite from the cold before we return to the Andes to hike the Inca Trail. We will miss this gem of a city that lies so far off the tourist track. However, we feel extremely blessed to have met its people and shared in their celebration.

A very Yellow New Year

2008-01-03T14:58:00.000-08:00

After doing our time in Lima, we hopped on a 7 hour bus ride to Huancayo. Located in the Mantaro Valley of the central highlands of Peru, this city has become our headquarters for the time being.

We arrived on New Years Eve to a massive party in the streets. Huancayo uses the color yellow the celebrate el Año Nuevo. From balloons, to hats, to streamers, to shirts, to big yellow underwear, the night markets specialized in anything dyed this special New Year’s hew.

After taking many photos on the streets, we settled into La Cabaña Restaurant. We ordered a plate full of meat and then danced the night away with our full bellies. As the bell tolled midnight, there were hugs, kisses, and a lady that kept shoving confetti down Amanda’s shirt. Our hotel room is still littered with small yellow dots of paper. We had a blast. We awoke late on the 1st to find the party was indeed over.

In the last three days we have done three separate day trips to various towns. Our list includes Changos Bajo, Aco, Mito, Jauja, and the Inca ruins of Tunanmarca. This ancient town was once home to about 3000 Incas more than 1300 years ago. Their circular huts of stone have withstood the elements remarkably well.

The Mantaro Valley is a very tranquil place. During the summer months the heavy rains support the agricultural community. The hills are full of color and life as Peruvians tend to the land that has been harvested since their ancestors arrived in the seventh century. It is very easy to strike up a conversation with these friendly farmers. Though they have very little, they are always willing to give. Amanda and I hiked back in time through miles and miles of lush potato farms surrounded by groves of eucalyptus trees and Inca ruins. The Andes rise violently on all sides of us. Small, run down villages centered around a Catholic Church house many culture-filled lives filled with history.
After finishing our hike through the ruins we stumbled upon a party. It was a coming of age party for 4 beautiful Peruvian women in their late teens.
We danced, ate, and enjoyed visiting the home of this Peruvian family. Their hospitality and generosity is truly honorable. They brought us to their home, let us dance with their women, and fed us some amazing cuisine – and all we had to offer was a smile and a laugh. This was a truly memorable experience.
We finished our hike today, Jan 3rd with a New Year’s fiesta in the town of Mito. Please allow the picture to do the talking for this event.

Amanda’s camera has been snapping away. We are not sure where we will journey next, but we have fallen in love with Huancayo and its surrounding villages. We have only seen 2 other gringos in the last 4 days and have not spoken English to anyone but each other since we left Lima. My rusty Spanish is improving quickly as it is truly the only way to communicate.

We still miss home and wish everyone a very wonderful 2008 filled with health, wealth, and love. Until next time, Adios.

We are finally here.

2007-12-30T18:59:00.000-08:00

Hello friends, family, and anyone who has stumbled upon Hablog Ingles!

I am very excited to tell everyone that this is our first post from abroad. After a grueling 26 hours of travel for Amanda, and a less grueling 14 hours for me, we arrived in Lima, Peru on Dec. 29. While we were ready to venture off into the great unknown, Amanda’s luggage was still clinging to its familiar American life. It never made it on the plane in Los Angeles.

We were met at the airport by Susy. Susy has just finished converting her home into a guesthouse – two days ago. I am proud to say that we Americans were the first to eat her breakfast, sleep in her bed, and stink up the brand spankin’ new bathroom. Always conquering new territory, we are! We met via email through her father, who runs a guesthouse in Huancayo – our next destination.

Susy is the nicest Peruvian. She has been so helpful with everything we ask of her. I truly hope her guesthouse is successful.

We spent the day walking – I’m guessing about 10 miles – around Lima. We soaked up the sights, sounds, Christmas lights. Most Peruvians are on Holiday right now so the streets are teeming with life.

Today I counted 5,789,789 Taxis, 987,890 adorable little kids, 43,765 people selling chiclet, and 3 crosswalk break dancers. It’s a huge city and although it has so much to offer, we are happy to be leaving its chaotic streets tomorrow for the Ano Nuevo festival in the mountain town of Huancayo.

At this point we are both dumbfounded by the fact that we have completely jettisoned all responsibilities we faced in the United States. As tedious and monotonous as our working lives can become. They fill our waking lives with activity producing a certain level of comfort. This first day of roughly 225 has been one of disbelief. We have both given up so much to be here. We have both gone against the advice of so many that are close to us. We have both spent the last year preparing for today.

And now as I sit here at the close of our first full day, all I can say is: we are finally here.

Yes, Amanda´s pack finally arrived.

How to Hablog

2007-12-26T21:30:00.000-08:00

Amanda and I had a fantastic Christmas. We've both been frantically attempting to place all our ducks in a row before we leave. Planning for the combination of quitting jobs, moving home, and a seven month absence from society can prove quite stressful. However, we will be ready and we will be in Peru in just three days!!

We miss our friends in Rochester very badly. Rochester is an amazing city that treated us like royalty.

If you received an email for this blog then you are on my list - if you know someone that wants to receive updates you can forward the link, tell them to check periodically, or sent me an email and I'll add them to my list.

I hope all of you leave comments after each post as we go - you must have a Google account to do so - it's free to get one.

In the right column you can follow our trek with the map - as well as the locations of all the visitors to Hablog Ingles.

Amanda and I will miss our lives in America so I ask you all to please write us emails and leave us comments. If you want to send money we can arrange that also.

This will be the least interesting post you will see - the rest should be filled with adventurous stories, beautiful sideshows and comical videos from far away places.

We love suggestions!! happy blogging! Next Post will be from Peru.

Itinerary

2007-10-14T05:41:00.000-07:00

The Itinerary:

7 Months, 11 Countries

Peru/Bolivia - Dec 29-Feb 15
Chile - Feb 15 - Mar 13
Argentina - Mar 13-Apr 11
Los angeles - Apr 12 - Apr 14
Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos - Apr 15-May 25
India - May 25 - June 20
Turkey/Greece - June 20 - July 29

Of course, countries can always be added or deleted. We strongly encourage anyone who may be interested in joining us to hike the Inca Trail in Peru, take a wine tour in Argentina, see the Taj Mahal in India, Play on the beaches in Vietnam, or any other spot to let us know. Buy your tickets! You’ll regret it if you don’t come visit us.

An Introduction

2007-10-13T10:58:00.000-07:00

Amanda and I, newly engaged, have decided to drop our lives in Rochester, New York to see the world again. This website is intended to let all of our friends and family follow us on our journeys, sharing in the sights, sounds and memories we create. An itinerary will be soon to follow, along with an open invitation for everyone we know to join us at any time in any country for as long as they want.