Once again back in business! After two long months of nothing I am back in
travel mode, this time with the plan to once again 'hit the road'. Join me on my
motorcycle tour through India...
February 24, 2002
Flight > Amsterdam, Netherlands
Comfortably slept in while the rest of the house guests rose early to make their
ways back home. Back to the grind stone. Scott returned from confessing his sins
by noon and after a few rallying and confidence restoring games of ping-pong
packed out. A beautiful day. Clear blue skies, perfect for a flight half way
around the world.
An adventurous check-in assured me of an epic series of flights to come. 'Your
reservation doesn't show on our computers' And a half hour of 'forcing codes'
and an army of airline jargon later my seat was secured. Alteast as far as
Amsterdam. adios amigo and waved Scott off, releasing him to return to the race.
Plans to meet up somewhere sometime to travel together...
Philadelphia to Detroit
Scheduled-16:05 Promised-17:40 Departed-18:40 Arrived-20:15 (2.5h)
Delayed as usual, causing me to miss my connection to Amsterdam. Rerouted on a
later flight but without a seat. An otherwise dull flight with another 30m delay
on the ground in Detroit, blamed on the opening of the new terminal, a terminal
the 'words can't describe...' and 'designed to eliminate delays...' as touted in
the inflight magazine. A terminal I have no trouble describing as an
embarassment to the airline. A cold warehouse feeling not at all attractive or
well thought out. The most redeeming quality being a helpful attendant who upon
taking my ticket dissappeared for a half hour without a word, but made up for it
by rerouting me direct to Delhi with a night layover in Amsterdam.
Detroit to Amsterdam
Scheduled-21:40 Promised-21:40 Departed-22:15 Arrived-11:15
Seated next to an agro-euro-twat convinced I should give him my window seat and
move somewhere else, and an all star lineup of crying babies that sounded more
like irritated tropical birds. A difficult night of sleep.
a>
Amsterdam
1.1 Euro = $1
February 25, 2002
Amsterdam, Netherlands
We finally arrived in Amstrerdam to find my promised accomodations not booked.
With my pack checked through to Delhi, I begin to wonder my chances of ever
seeing it again. With luck on my side as usual, I convinced the service desk to
put me up, and they succeeded in flying colors. The Golden Tulip, a luxury hotel
right in the heart of the city center, complete with transportation and meals. A
relaxing rest in room 216.
A cold with heavy winds and rain evening out on the town. The city of sin, where
outside, amongst red lights and coffee shops, a man shakes a tin to the endless
drone of 'Sitting by the dock of the bay' and on the inside half naked women
dance on tables to the sounds of old school U2 and euro-pop. An expensive city
where a night on the town easily consumes a 50: 15e per meal, 15e per hostel, 6e
per pint of Heineken or Amstel (take your pick), and another .5e to piss it off;
leaving you the next morning with nbo recollection at all. A healthy
introduction to travel.
February 26, 2002
F > Delhi, India
Loaded my bag with the world's finest yogurts and chocolates on my Euro change
left mysteriously in my pockets from the night before and after an incredible
breakfast buffet, boarded the bus back to the airport. To my sheer suprise 'Your
name doesn't show on our computers'. A half hour spent rebooking my flight and
tracking down my luggage with an attendant bearing a Cabbage Patch kid binder
and a phone book with little girl decorative stickers all over it. God help me.
Amsterdam to Delhi
Scheduled-11:00 Promised-11:00 Departed-12:25 Arrived-0:05
An hour and a half of unexplained delays followed by a typical aircraft episode.
Crying baby infront and beside a fat Scottish lady who doubled up on alcohol
everytime the cart went by. Had me in and out of my seat 3 times, pushing her
way to the bathroom.
India
VISA
$60 = 6m ME (From Nepal)
10 Days Application
ECONOMY
48.4 Ruppies = $1
Diem = 400r Food = 25-100r Room = 100-200r
ESSENTIAL HINDI
'Namaste' =Hello
'Chale Jao' = Get Lost
NOTES
The food is great, but you better like curry.
The untouchables must be on strike, cause there is trash everywhere and everything smells of shit.
Public transportation is cheap, crappy, and life threatening (take trains, hard sleeper).
A better alternative is to buy a Hero Honda (practical) or Enfield (cool) for $500 and brave the road.
Cows roam the streets, and so does just about every other thing imaginable.
The laundry soap of choice is 'Rin Shakti', it comes in a blue bar, and works pretty well.
There is a lot of crap for sale, and for the most part it is just that.
Excellent and welcoming portrait photo opportunities, mostly in Rajasthan.
For landscape and sights photos stick to the South, (Goa, Kerala) otherwise there's nothing.
Bring a quality fixed 135mm lens, and leave the wide angle and cheap zoom behind.
Bring a free standing squeeter net.
No need for sneakers, Tevas will do.
Buy most of your gear when you get there.
Tip - A sari makes a great towel/blanket/bandanna/etc.
We finally arrive!
A wave of balmy heat and third world smells hits me right out of the plane. Ah,
the smell of india, a delicate blend of incense, curry, and freshly soiled
underwear. On to immigration, where after Ramesh scrutinized my visa 3 times
under flourescents, a reluctant 'OK' was uttered and my passport was stamped in.
Welcome back to India.
Through the door to baggage claim. To my suprise my pack arrives! Out the doors
and ready for adventure. Within minutes I am being hounded through the parking
lot by taxi touts. '300r... main bazaar... very far...' 'No thanks' 'For you my
friend 200r...' 'No thanks' '50...' 'Ok' and with full foresight on the
headaches I am about to face I take a seat in the minivan. 'Oh, my friend...
welcome India... my duty is helping you... I come to you country you helping
me... OK?' 'Ok' Oh brother...
Blah-Blah-Blah the whole way, stopping at every travel agent and hotel on the
way. Using every trick in the book, even the obvious agent calls hotel (friend)
'We have no rooms sir' one. My only weapons sitting stubborn, cursing, and
insistent. Eventually he realizes I am not falling for it and am not going to
buckle and we turn up at Pahargang, the main bazaar.
The New Ringo Guesthouse, the guesthouse where I stayed before xmas. A
comforting sight to see a waiting room and the only face I half trust in this
town. A commotion over the taxi fare and I turn over 100r just to shut the man
up. He walks away cursing and smiling at the same time.
After some reassuring talk about the shits of India and a gift giving of Dutch
cheeses I take my room for the night, strangely happy to be back. Ready for
another shot of adventure.
February 27, 2002
Delhi, India
A mild mannered morning, warm with a slight cool breeze. Awoke with enough
energy for a day of moto shopping. Out from the back alley hotel and onto the
streets of Delhi, merging with the steaming ruckus abounding and the markets
awaiting. The sounds of hagglers and horns. The sight of anything goes.
Argued for 10 minutes and grabbed a rickshaw to Karol Barg, the motorcycle
market, a street lined with Japanese 100's and Enfield 350's.
The Royal Enfield Bullet 350, a British designed and Indian made single cylinder
4-stroke machine of style. The perfect coolman touring bike. A nice selection in
a suprisingly low pressure, fixed price sales atmosphere. The going rate seems
to be $500 for pre-'92, $600 up to '95, $700 to '99, and $100 to date. All in
decent condition, constantly tended over by teenaged apprentice mechanics
clutching a handful of wrenches, screwdrivers, and the do it all hammer. Looking
for a deal, something in the $500-$600 category.
Enter Brian McGuire. 'You looking for a bike?' 'Yeah, me too... 2-3 months
around India' 'Yeah, me too... Need a travel partner?' 'I was thinking the same'
'Right on' And with that the universe aligned itself, destiny took its course,
and the forces were joined.
Finished off the day getting a feel for what's available and gathering leads.
One promising lead, a couple Logan of Alaska and Tonja of Germany, who after
having enlightened themselves by a few mishaps around town decided to forgoe
their tour and put their bikes up for sale on the hotel message boards. After 2
weeks of being 'trapped' in Delhi hopelessly working on the sale, my interest
lightened their mood. After an unsuccessful test drive plagued by electrical
malfunctions and a close inspection revealing structural damage the mood swung
low again.
A late night of revealing Zen & The Art of Motorcyle Mechanics philosophy on the
roof around a table of chai, where friend Jean of Canada declared himself a true
romantic by sharing with us that he feeds his car cornflakes when it isn't
feeling so well, Tonja followed suit with her car that 'just doesn't like men',
and Logan gazed up into the stars wondering if there was an answer.
February 28, 2002
Delhi, India
4 hours of sleep and out of bed for another day shopping. Back to the market,
together with Brian in search of more options. Great findings. An endless
rickshaw ride in search of the elusive and illegal walkie talkies, failed.
An evening helping the Logan gang fix the bike and a depressing $100 price hike
on the deal once we finally got it working. A depressing display of greed and
shifty behavior. Tomorrow morning Brian and I meet a 'friend' for a few more
options before making a decision. We are shooting for Sunday to be on the road.
March 1, 2002
Delhi, India
Strike day and hardly any shops open. A protest to the PLP of the terrorist
activities yesterday in Ahmadabad which rumor has it either derailed a train
killing thousands or simply set it on fire killing hundreds. What exactly
happened largely depends on who you talk to. A silent protest that has everyone
down at the moto market out on the streets wondering what to do today.
Opened a few closed doors to have a look at a few bikes and narrowed in on a
cherry red '89 Enfield 350 in like new condition and claimed to have been
completely overhauled. Haggled with Pinky of Laxmi Motors over the price.
24,000r or $500 complete with helmet and insurance. Brian picked out a blue '90
in similar condition. A different dealer, but for the same price. Both nice
bikes with a few problems to be worked out tomorrow while we drink beer and
observe the work.
Put down a deposit and shook hands. Learned that big bills ($50's and up) are
the preferred payment, as they give a higher return on the black market.
Typically insane rickshaw to Carnough Place for a Pizza Hut celebration. Spent
the afternoon back at the main bazaar customizing a light cotton long sleeve
shirt and silk mummy bag liner. A lame evening with the Logan gang, failing to
find for signs of regret. A trip to the internet cafe where for 10r/h you sit at
a war torn terminal along side a hundred Indians busy with internet porn, MSN
Messenger, and bulk mailing love letters and Yahoo Greetings to tourists they
have been lucky enough to prod an address from. An hour spent, 10 minutes of
work done.
March 2, 2002
Delhi, India
Up and out early, guitar in hand and back to the Barg to complete the deal. An
afternoon of watching over the repairs while drinking chai and strumming guitar.
A big hit. Later on, Pinky arrived to sign over the papers and present a bottle
of Scotch for celebration. An evening of wreckless drinking and driving with his
friend the head of police on duty.
March 3, 2002
B > Dharamsala, India
According to Brian, today was spent 'dicking around' until we caught a night bus
to Dharamshala. A freezing cold, airborne and sleepless ride in the back where
we passed the time heckling the Good Day Cracker hawkers with Itai, an Israeli
boy and Anja, a German girl, both in pursuit of enlightenment and with the love
lights on. 'Gagging for a shagging' as Brian puts it.
March 4, 2002
Dharamsala, India
A radiant sunrise, twisting through the foothils of the Himalayas, a cool fresh
breeze in from the broken window, and U2 grooving on Itai's discman. 'It's a
Beautiful Day' and that it is.
Decided to pass up Dharamshala proper for McLeod Gang, a smaller town another 30
minutes up the hill, home of the Dalai Lama and Tibetan government in exile. A
cozy 2 road town thick in maroon remorse and prayer wheel apathy. An intense
view of Mt. Kailash over the hills, snow covered and dominant.
Parted ways with the lovebirds and found ourselves a double a few k further up
hill and farther from the crowd. Greeted in by a Tibetan monk, who occupied
himself by a curious gaze through a brass telescope Brian picked up at a rest
stop somewhere in the middle of the night. Tired as hell, Brian instantly
crashed, and I too tired to sleep took off on a trek through the dirt trails
connecting neighbooring huts.
A wander that turned into a trip to Backsunath Falls. Along the way I ran into
the NutriLite gang. A local protein power company on field trip. Instantly
mesmerized by my foreigness and thrilled to spend the day asking me questions in
a chinese english about the USA. An interesting exchange and an impressive
waterfall surrounded by monks and their laundry. A thoughtful wander back into
town, and a radiant sunset cast onto the mountains in the distance.
Back at the hotel, Brian's day didn't fair so well. 'I'm not into this place...
I'm leaving tomorrow' A sour impression apparently a result of running into the
same bastardly bum I had a run in with. I plan to stay a day or so longer. It is
beautiful here. A very cold night.
March 5, 2002
Dharamsala, India
Convinced Brian to give it another chance and take an afternoon hike before
heading home to Delhi. A picturesque hike along the footpaths leading to the
trailhead for the climb to Triund Peak. Spectactular views over the Dharamshala
valley and friendly locals along the way helped change his opinion of the place.
Regardless, determined to source out his bike and catch up on some chores, off
he went. I decided to stick around an extra day and attempt the full day climb
to the peak.
Ran into Itai and Anja over dinner (shitty Tibetan food) and signed them up for
the trek. We meet tomorrow early at 7. Ducked into a video hut for an evenings
entertainment of 'Being John Malkovich'. All I can say about this movie is the
words strange and stupid. Skip it.
March 6, 2002
B > Delhi, India
Somehow I managed to get up and out and to the designated meeting spot (a German
bakery of course) on time. Well, exactly 3 minutes late as Anja quickly pointed
out. A true German. Off we went.
It wasn't long before we picked up a couple locals, Majeet and Praveen also
trekking along. A steep 2 hour ascent to a coffee shop half way up found us some
killer omlettes, and on for a much tougher 2 hour trudge through snow to the
peak. An altitude 9,328' according to the sign, and an amazing view of the
Himilayas. An hour of breathtaking scenery and back down again sunburned and
tired to catch the night bus back to Delhi. Staying longer would be nice, but
the tour awaits.
Armed with a flask of local orange moonshine and a 40 of 'super strong' beer in
a desparate attempt to tranquilize myself for the long trip ahead. Paid the 340r
and pushed my way through the throngs of Tibetan monk tourists aboard the bus.
The back seat once again. A restless night, 12 hours doing the back seat bounce,
seated next to a grungy teenaged man who judging by the smell just couldn't wait
for the next reststop.
March 7, 2002
Delhi, India
Dropped off at the bus terminal and immediately thrust into rickshaw scandal.
Dharamshala was a relaxing break. Asking 350r for a lift to the main bazaar. To
their dismay I pull out my city map to find myself only 2k away. Instantly the
price drops to 100r. I offer 20r, they take 30 and a deal is made. Atleast until
after a half hour sweat peddle finds a road block not allowing rickshaw
entrance. The perfect time to up the fare, the driver decides. A heated
argument and on again we go, 2 blocks down and around the guards only to find
the main bazaar 1 block further. A deals a deal, so I pay up the 30 plus one
half empty bottle of moonshine from the night before. A smile instantly fills
his face. His 3 front teeth emerge and in a flash the arguments are over and he
is gone.
Met up with Brian back at the hotel, successfully in his chores and waiting with
both bikes ready to go. An afternoon of rigging them up and more 'dicking
around'. An evening test drive before hitting the road tomorrow morning. A
hopeful plan denied after Brian returned to the hotel by taxi. 'Damn bike!' An
unexplained breakdown along the way. Looks like another day at the Barg.
March 8, 2002
Delhi, India
Another day at the Barg. After 6 hours of mind bogglingly sloppy repair work we
threw in the towel and gave his bike the boot for another. A straight trade for
a grey '95 ex-police bike that actually works. A few simple adjustments and a
repeat rendevous with Pinky, bottle of scotch in one hand, phone in the other
and a plate of samosas to keep us happy. We leave tomorrow.
March 9, 2002
M > Mathura, India 14,250k Odometer Reading at Day Beginning
Day 1 - 14,250k on the odometer. Packed out and rigged up. A broken luggage
strap 'Dammit!' A hopeful attempt to tie it all together with some market twine
failed. Back to the Barg for the 'total solution'.
Out with the upright back rest and straps approach and in with the flat rack and
bungy approach, rock solid. An early morning departure gave way to late
afternoon. A celebratory Pizza Hut and off we went, lost on the streets of
Delhi.
Checkpoint 1 - The India Gate. A mixmatch of contradicting directions took an
hour to decipher.
Checkpoint 2 - Mathura Road. A stalled bike in heavy traffic and separated.
'Where'd he go? Oh well, carry on...' More confuscated directions had me on a
tollway and immediately off again, paying in both directions through the same
booth. A half hour and a few u-turns later finally found me the road.
The 2 to Agra. 200k of relatively painless 4 lane asphalt, cropped fresh with
vehicles driving in the wrong direction, overturned Tata trucks, and overrun
animals. Surrounded by a flat landscape of low trees, grss huts, and the
occasional smoke stack. Stopped for a piss, threw on a windbreaker to counter
the quickly chilling evening air, and bent down to repair the failing breather
hose for the 3rd time. Looked up just in time to catch Brian speed by.
An amazement and exchange of story and on we went, stopping or stalling every
10m along the way. The wind in our face, amplifying our shit eating grins. The
biker gang.
Dusk turned dark and for the sake of safety we decided to cut the day short in
Mathura, 60k outside of Agra. A detour along a muddle dirt road in the pitch
black lead us to the Girilaj 'Gusthouse'. A successful first day on bike, the
only injuries being faces chocked with dirt and bugs. Cleaned up and a night on
the town.
The living circus. Street performers, flashing carnival lights, blaring music,
crusty hot milk, sweets, street animals and limo rickshaws. A bazaar country
indeed, India.
...flash forward...
April 20, 2002
Bombay, India
It's been over a month since I have written and I can't really remember much of
what has happened. Quite a bit lazier at keeping tabs on my experiences and a lot
closer to travelling as a life style, experiencing the moment for what it is and
then moving on.
Well, we made it as far as Bombay, curiously renamed Mumbai for no obvious
reason, inline with the way most things get done in this country.
A slow bump-about through Rajasthan with its historic forts and colorful and
captivated crowd followed by a quick train around Gujarat to avoid the dangers
of religeous conflict and riot between the Muslims and Hindus.
Somewhere along the way 'we' has expanded. Welcome Natasha, a London girl with
dreams of adventure and swept away by our cool gig while passing through
Pushkar.
As I lay back in this shiste hotel room on this lazy 100 in the shade day, Brian
scours the meat market in search of the perfectly crusty slab for a profitable
photo and Natasha browses the moto market hoping to land a bike for the trip
onward. For me it is much needed time alone. Time to filter through my thoughts
and give a shot at catching up on things...
...and back...
March 10, 2002
Mathura, India
An early morning up. Awoken by a procession of banging pots and pans and what
almost sounded like a trumpet passing by our second floor balcony. A circus
indeed and setup on the dirt road infront of our hotel. A street performance in
celebration of the Lord Krishna's birthplace or possibly just because it is
another day. A boy footing a bicycle rim across a wire 8' off the ground while
his mom stood by and kept the music going. Had us out and down snapping happily.
'What the hell is this?!?!' 'I dunno...' in a stunned and giddy amazement.
Finished the show, hopped off, and collected their ruppies in a tin before
continuing on down the road. Strange.
Packed out in anticipation of the hotel booked full for the coming festival,
washed down the bikes, and idled down the road in search of another cheaper
(100r) and better hotel with our own bathroom and situated immediately infront
of the Krishna birthplace temple and while Brian shot off to find a mechanic for
some essential repairs I wandered 'main street' sampling the stall food along
the way. An amazing 'masala dosa', a thin crepe like pancake stuffed full with
vegetable curry, cheese, and a 'special sauce'. Washed it satisfyingly down with
a Limca (almost like sprite).
Later in the afternoon a search for Brian found me somehow on the back of a
police moto headed to nearby Vridavan. A strange wonderland journey introducing
me to the mysterious India proper. An overload of odd and interesting scenes of
people and animals and everything inbetween. An unexplained pilgrimage
procession of barefoot crazies along the side of the road followed by the
occasional camel cart or elephant or snake charmer or whatever. People of all
sorts young and old, dressed in smashing colors and hidden behind painted faces
and all on some sort of mission. Nothing like I have ever seen before.
A hand shake and dropped off infront of another Krishna temple, closed for an
hour. Caught a bicycle rickshaw back to the main road (15 min/5r) and a stretch
limo motorized rickshaw back to Mathura (30 min/5r). An odd looking 2 axle golf
cart stretched to 20', packed to overload at a count of 25 including roof and
side hangers and under powered by a scooter engine sans muffler and belching
smoke.
Finally met up with Brian back at the hotel busy admiring his latest repair and
convinced me to take mine in for some work. I can now shift into 3rd.
Busy Street at Night
It's people buying and selling, always moving
It's life and its trivial pursuits
A scene that repeats itself over and over everywhere I go
In good time metal doors slide shut and the lights go out
And all that remains is a waste away westerner standing abreast
A pale face and homespun dress
Looking like Gandhi and doing his best to recite his guru's teachings
A monologue attempt to convert me to his understanding
Or perhaps to himself better understand what it all means
He dismisses himself
And a river slow flows on
Forced to listen to prayers of the believers
Silently witnessing their strange rituals
And accepting the gifts they bring
March 11, 2002
Mathura, India
What was to be a late night stopover on our way to Agra has itself become a
valuable destination. In light of my experiences yesterday, I convinced Brain to
stay another day and join me back to Vrindavan, this time on our own bikes. As
far as Enfields are concerned, nothing goes without complication and today was
no exception. A hour of fussing about had both bikes in a semi-stable idle. A
trip down to the river for a boat ride. Nothing terribly interesting besides the
saddistic humor of laying back and relaxing while the teenaged owner/operator
broke into a sweat paddling hard against the strong current, only to return one
hour later to the same place we started and argue for another half hour over the
pre-negotiated price of 50r.
On our way to Vrindavan. Stopped at the Valinova Temple, big and white and on
the 1st floor containing an impressive exhibit of 'Electrified Lilas'. A version
of Hershey Park's 'Small World', less the chocolate and the boats and with an
extra shot of corny. The 2nd floor found us an old man piping away on an
accordioned keyboard and a nice panoramic view over Mathura valley from the top.
Mostly Indian tourists and more or less pleasant.
Back on the bikes and off again at the turnoff to Vrindavan in anticipation of
Kodak moments. A 5k crawl into town, spending a handful of rolls of film along
the way. Wall to wall wackos the whole way to the temple. Arrived just in time
to witness a charity feeding and managed to avoid the donation touts just long
enough to appreciate the music of the devotees camped out amongst the icons on
exhibit. A beautiful light radiates off faces during sunset. A memorable day.
Plagued by more moto problems on the return, the crux of which being Brian's
bike failing to start,headlights not working, and my bike stalling every 10m
along. The problems appear to be electrical.
March 12, 2002
Mathura, India
7am and 4 different songs all in a competition to wake me. Repeating over and
over again the same lyrics as I have noticed Indian songs tend to do. Brian hums
along. Bali Shanker day, and like all others, just another reason to goof off.
A day of moto repairs before heading on. The day Brian was spooked by 'the snake
man'.
March 13, 2002
M > Agra, India
In some way or another we finally managed to push or ride our bikes out of
Mathura and back on the road to Agra. A blazingly hot 110 in the shade day,
spent not in the shade but seated over an internal combustion engine bellowing
of some 1000 degrees of controlled explosions and bleeding off the the heat
through a few casted metal cooling fins only inches from our legs. A manditory
drink break happened to find us 10k outside of Agra and standing infront of the
Akbar Mausoleum.
The admission price of 110r for a foreigner or 10r for a local had us in a tear
whether or not to enter, but the thought of cooling down in an underground tomb
won us over. Monkeys, gazelles, and peacocks in the park. Relaxing and
suprisingly void of tourists. A few nice archesand a lot of typically 'don't give
a shit for respect' Indian grafitti. 'Anand luves Gina four ever' Deep and
secure behind 10' thick walls of stone he lay. Some terribly important twat. The
never ending echo. A cool break.
Back on the road. A one way road but I still find myself looking both ways as
the majority of th people seem to keep themselves amused by driving the wrong
way. Sure it's 'illegal' and sure there are plenty of 'cops' lulling around, but
the fact is that no one really seems to be bothered enough to enforce. Anything
goes.
Nearly a week later then originally expcted we finally pull wearily into Agra.
Welcomed in by a 90r all you can eat Pizza Hut meal deal. Quite a bit different
then the small town of Mathura, Agra is a big city crawling thick with tourism.
Home of the Taj Mahal, India's most touristed site and one of the modern wonders
of the world, and steeped with all the expected conveniences and comforts.
---Brian's Back---
Brian's back from the markets. Sweating like a pig and convinced it is the
hottest he has ever been. A dwindling market in the midday heat has him at a
loss for the perfect photo but interested in giving it another shot early
tomorrow. Jumps in the shower.
Stuffed full and happy we side slip the town weasels, convinced we need a
tuk-tuk despite the fact that we are seated on motorbikes and manage to find our
hotel with the help of a tag-along looking for a commission.
Check in and it's up to the rooftop for an excellent sunset view of the Taj
followed by an evening of traveller talk. A fat Arab from America lies to an
Israeli, telling him he is from Australia to avoid the inevitable scene and goes
on to salivate over our Pizza Hut story periodically dozing off with dreams of a
tastier tomorrow. Two construction workers from Scotland on a two week thunder
tour of India who also had 'all they could eat'. The typical stoners and late
night philosophers.
March 14, 2002
Agra, India
Up and out early to catch the Taj for sunrise. Entry fee - 750r/20r, an extreme
split that even Gandhiwould protest. Organizing a non-violent protest is
probably not such a bad idea, the only problem being the tour buses full of
all-in-one day trippers from Delhi that wouldn't bat a lash at 750r nor would
accept any delay in their booked itinerary.
The Taj Mahal - An impressive but honestly not all that and definitely not so
much as the Indians would have you believe. I question it's 'wonder' status and
in my humble opinion it is in no way worth the admission. Spent a few hours
trying to get the most out of it, waiting for that perfect 'head on with no
tourists' shot before giving up and carrying on.
A shitty breakfast (pancakes without using eggs?!?!) and a rickshaw around town.
The Agra Fort - Where the only thing interesting was the man out front with
Elephantitis wagering on his bad luck for a 5 ruppie photos. An afternoon at the
Enfield Service Center replacing leaky fork seals and hardware that Pinky
cleverly hid behind a sleeve. Another rooftop evening complete with all it has
to offer.
March 15, 2002
Agra, India
Had planned to leave today until we were told it is Muslim/Hindu Mayhem day and
massive riots were to be expected. Decided it best to spend the whole day in an
internet cafe slurping up chai after chai and working on a massive web update.
Introduced the 'My Movies' section along with 5 new albums containing some 200
photos and weeks of story. Tomorrow we make our way toward Jaipur.
...flash forward...
August 12, 2002
T > Lake Kokonor, China
On an overnight train to Lake Kokonor in China. A good time to catch up on my
seriously lagging journal...
...and back...
March 16, 2002
M > Midway, India 14,597k
Gas 10 liters @ 274r
Packed up the bikes to leave this dirty city. The usual adjustments and on to
Fakehpura Sikra, an abandoned city. Brian, a pack a day smoker pulling it off
one at a time, has us for the usual stop in a small village along the way to buy
a single cigarette and some fruit. While he wanders off for a few photos of the
local loonies, I shoehorn and hammer my helmet to ease the forehead pressure.
The crowd takes an interest in my guitar and demands entertainment. A well
received song or two paid for in Sopa; a ground beetlenut chew in condom sized
and sealed packets. Some seriously nasty stuff that tastes just like it sounds
and produces an aazing amount of pewtrid brown spit. The culprit of all the half
toothed wonders of this amazing country.
Back on the road and on our way. Trained bears on leashes stand as we pass.
Brian speeds up to pass, turns his head and makes some concerted noises. Maybe
he doesn't realize how difficult it is to understand scottish behind a full face
helmet at 60 k/h. I pretend to understand, smile back, and shake my head in
oblivious agreement.
It a beautiful day on the road and to me that is all that matters. I concentrate
on the meditative hum of the engine which for the first time in weeks sounds
perfect.
We make it to the ghost town, which turns out to be not much of a ghost town at
all. Overpopulated with souvenir stalls and annoying little kids that follow you
around incessantly. Park the bikes and push our way through the crowd to the old
mosque. Instantly salesmen latch on as 'guides' which we don't want but that
doesn't really seem to matter. A quick look around through the grounds, rich
with interesting figures and elaborately carved stone windows. Efficiently we
are directed out the back door to the stalls for the hard sell. How difficult
these 'guides' are to shake.
Stone eggs and skillfully carved elephants inside elephants. Eventually I earn
my freedom through rough negotiations over repeated cups of chai. I make my way
back inside to find Brian who met with a similar fate but wasn't lucky enough to
escape empty handed. An assortment of stones and a tricky tiger brass lock,
gifts for family and friends.
Take some photos and sit next to an old man pumping away on his accordion style
keyboard. Join in on guitar and the crowd swells. A few songs in English and
then a few in Hindi, everyone is happy. Brian, not so involved in my commotion
motions to go and so we go.
Back to the bikes where a crowd of kids patiently waits on and around thankfully
protecting them from possible hoodlums. We manage to shoe them off and break
free at a loss of only a few mango Fruutis to the top of the pecking order. On
the road to Jaipur.
Realizing we couldn't possibly ake it the whole way we stop the night at the
Midway Hotel. Overpriced but negotiable as we are the only customers this night.
An entertaining evening of chess and guitar with the staff. A friendship that
locked us into the half price menu on food and drinks. An amazing thali, easily
the best I have ever had. Mosquitoes.
March 17, 2002
M > Jaipur, India 14,737k
The NH11 through the heart of Rajasthan. What started as a cool morning quickly
turned arid as the desert moves closer. Mountains replace the smoke stacks and
the dirt becomes more like sand. Trees distance themselves and the land is
populated with tumbleweed.
Brian's bike responds to the rising heat and starts to take an attitude. Strange
spitting sounds and periodic stalling. Slowly we inch our way across the baking
plain. An overturned Tata blocks the road. We stop for a photo and rest.
Carrying a payload bigger then the truck itself, it is easy to see the cause.
Both bikes refuse the start. Repeated sweaty attempts eventually gets them
going. Spitting oil, Brian's blows the head gasket. With a determined effort we
drift into Jaipur.
Jaipur - the 'Pink City', named so because all the buildings were at one time
painted pink in celebration of the visit of some important sole. Even today,
most of the town remains the same. Interesting. A city famous for jewels.
Pizza Hut, we sit down in airconditioned comfort to the personal pan lunch
special and recount the rough journey. Find a lesser known hotel, settle
ourselves, philosophize over the workings of the bikes and sleep.
March 18, 2002
Jaipur, India
On our way into town yesterday, an Enfield shop owner picked up on our pathetic
performance and offered his card. Determined to 'fix it for good', Brian decides
to take his down for the works. Replaced the clutch rod, rerouted a few
electrical shorts, and tightened down the head, an incomplete solution I think.
Spent the afternoon strolling the market streets together and quickly went our
own ways. Hawa Makel, an interesting street side temple of a thousand windows. A
few locals at chess. Showed them a thing or two and worked my way back after
dark.
March 19, 2002
Jaipur, India 14,870k
Decided to check out the 'city palace', listed as a 'must see'. 5r for locals,
150r for foreigners, and a complete waste of time. Access to the courtyard and a
few crappy museums, not the palace itself which we thought was the point of the
visit.
Conned or so we thought and determined to make a bitch of it to the boss. An
afternoon argument that had Brian flying, telling the curator that his museum
'sucks' and demanding a refund. Taken until the man himself admitted his museum
was crap which is when we left happy. Payback for the bad treatment we have been
given as tourists at all these 'heritage sights'. Laughed it off over a few
games of chess and organized a sunset trip to the fort overlooking town.
Tagged along by a local, a student in gemology with no friends and nothing
better to do. As usual we lost Brian in the 1st 10m of traffic at the first
round about. The sunset, unfortunately on our way up the hill. Lights on. Bike
stall. It didn't take long to connect the problem to an electric system short.
Continued on to the top holding an LED light in my mouth. Fort closed. Spent the
entire night tearing the engine apart using a single spanner in the parking lot
looking for clues. A faulty charger shorted out to the bike frame. Borrowed some
lamp wire from a sleepy guard and rigged up a temporary fix, allowing me to
light my way home.
March 20, 2002
Jaipur, India 14,903k
Gas 12.9l @ 355r
Having both missed the view we decided to stick around and give it another shot.
Spent the morning at a radiator repair shop for a proper fix.
This time set out early. Once again lost on the way to the fort. Passed each
other in opposite directions at the top. Besnaggled the fort guard who was busy
trying to pocket the ticket money of foreigners and explored the fort. A nice
view over town and a failed sunset blocked by haze. A fun rendevous anyhow, and
certainly enough to consider ourselves finished with Jaipur. Both bike outta gas
on the ride home. Generous locals lend a liter.
March 21, 2002
M > Sambhar Lake, India 14,941k
Adjust Timing (stripped)
Up and out early with hopes to make it to Pushkar by scenic 'back road'.
Critical timing and carburator adjustments on the way out of town had my bike
sounding great. The turnoff at Bichun, stop for a drink and a break.
Magical moments. Curious and friendly locals offer great shots. A group passes
by in extraordinary dress. We follow along intent on capturing every moment we
can. Painted faces, barefoot and carrying flags. A pilgrimage taking a rest and
a feed in a temple in Bichun. After some friendly exchange we are invited in.
Shyam Pariwar Mandal, 7 days and 200k by foot from Malpura to Khatu to see the
Lord Krishna. After the feeding the music begins and we are quickly assimilated,
pulled in for the dance. The day wears on but we are having fun and experiencing
something like never before. An invite for a night of dinner and more dance.
Regardless, their enthusiasm over us is overwhelming and we look for retreat. It
is difficult for us to pull away but we decide to move on.
Back on the dirt road. A sand storm quickly mounts and viciously rips through,
requiring us to break. Sambhar Lake, the biggest salt lake in India. We sputter
our way through the lakeside town. An abandoned 'salt museum', locked door and
nothing to see. A one road long lost industrial waste town. Sunset over the
lake. Beautiful radiant colors.
Decide to stop short and seek a hotel for the night. My bike begins to misfire
heavily and we drift in to Hotel Apna, the only obvious option. Tough
negotiations on a room, but the bike will go no further and so we check in. A
real hole.
A town without lights, we head out to find food in the dark. Lost and haunting
and followed along by shifty characters. Hassles and bad vibes abound and Brian
turns paranoid. He hates it here.
A dirty street stand serving masala omelettes. A single source of food for the
weary traveller. The gouls converge and a drunken ass stirs a scene. We make our
way back to the room.
'We met all the twats tonight. We met the tough guy and the town drunk' Brian
comments. Attempts to doze off.
March 22, 2002
M > Ajmer, India 15,030k
Adjust Carburator, Add Oil
7am and awoken to the sound of an old man trying to clear 50 years of flem
buildup in the hallway right outside our door. That and the staff doing their
best to fill in the gaps by dragging around furniture, slamming doors, arguing
loudly, and doing their best to make as much noise as possible. In an otherwise
unkept and uninhabited hotel, this leaves me to wonder what they could possibly
be doing. My best guess is this is their payback on our hard bargaining of the
night before.
...August 12...
... A smooth ride across a desert. 'Clink Clink... Shur Quay... Clink Clink...'
the dinner cart distracts me from my journal. Fried egg, stir fried greens,
carrots, and rice for 10y. A bit steep but still welcome. No fortune cookie, but
the neighbors fill in with peaches, apples, and bananas. I can't refuse...
Spent the morning cleaning the carburator and retuning the bike, set way too
rich. Already deep in sweat from the repairs we set off in the midday sun. Brian
runs a nail and the flat has us stop in Marwa, an old fort town. Take a quick
tour and return for the repair. Two curious old men in white rags, childhood
friends, intent to watch. The repair leads to a broken brake pedal. Another flat
on the way out.
What was to be a relaxing 2 hour 80k back road ride to Pushkar took an entire
day, counting 3 flats, a handful of breakdowns, balancng act ladies, incessant
kids, flying peacocks, kodak moments. The last hour a dusk blitz covering half
the distance and taking us only as far as Ajmer. Hardly relaxing.
With caked on sweat, motor grease, sand and dirt we check into the top floor of
the Atlas Hotel and sit down to a nice curry. Brian's usual, Chicken Tikka,
white rice, 1 butter naan, 2 papad, and a coke.
March 23, 2002
M > Pushkar, India 15,138k
Well we're here so we might as well see the stuff. Red Temple - A private
enterprise displaying a golden model fantasy city. Interesting but not at all
what I had expected. Big Lake - A nap in the sun, animal training the kids to
bring mango dollies, and learning Hindi by exchange of phrase. Teaching them
'Give me yer freakin money jesus christ' afforded me 'Pani May Jao' = 'Jump in
the water' & 'Chale Jao' = 'Get Lost', not to be confused with 'Chalo Jao' =
Let's go! Possibly the only Hindi a traveller needs to know.
Managed the energy to make it over the hill and finally on to Pushkar. Pushkar -
A small lakeside town of religeous fanatics turned into a Dahab-like hippie
hangout. Nothing like the rest of India, but then again it isn't meant to be. A
tourist playground. A holy city where beer is outlawed, replaced by it's more
potent cousin the 'Special Lassi'. Where foreigners congregate to disregard
India, flash their white skin, and be hip. A place where days go by unnoticed
and some never leave.
Checked into the LakeSide for some serious relaxing. Immediately found a
Marley-esk rooftop cafe serving up quality Italian pasta. Tired of the
traditional and ever present curry, we dig in.
March 24-27, 2002
Pushkar, India 15,160k
Gas 15.5l @ 436r
A relaxing few days. Toured the countryside by moto with a gang of Brits,
Natasha and Rowena. Switched hotels to an even better lakeside view with a pool.
Plans to leave the bikes behind for a few days and join the gang on a camel
safari in Jaisalmer.
Interesting Aside
A country where the driver of a motorbike is required to wear a helmet by law
A law which cares not about driving the wrong side of the road
A law which cares not about riding 5 per scooter side-saddle
A law which cares not about cows roaming the streets
March 28, 2002
T > Jaisalmer, India
Parked the bikes in a grassy lot, packed up with the brits. and aboard the
train. Jodhpur, 7 hours of hard seats and half way to Jaisalmer. Constant
entertainment from the travelling bands occupying the aisles. Quite fun, atleast
for the first hour.
The midnight shifting of trains. A stop just long enough for a bowel disrupting
meal just outside the station. And just long enough for an Indian 'friend' to
attach himself to the gang like a leech. Also headed to Jaisalmer, and who would
have guessed, also a hawker for the 'Golden City' hotel. How lucky we are.
Jaisalmer, 6 hours of hard sleeper. A train full of troops and tanks headed to
the Pakistan border. I try to strike up a conversation but hush seems to be the
word.
March 29, 2002
Jaisalmer, India
Travelling with Brits of course we 'can't be asked' to find a better deal, so off
the train and into the hotel transport we go. The 'Golden City' hotel, actually
not a bad deal at all. All except for my room which resembles something out of
the slums. Newspaper over the windows, a ceiling fan that rocks wildly back and
forth, stains on the bed, and lit by a single red bulb.
Jaisalmer - The 'Golden City', named so because of it's golden middle eastern
facade. A handful of chaotic streets lined with intricately carved sandstone
huts. A domineering fort looms overhead, visible from anywhere. Like something
out of a fairy tale.
A big day, Holi Day - The festive Muslims vs. Hindu 'Let's be friends' and throw
paint on the streets day. Once again, fun for the first hour. Indians typically
exercise no restraint, but whacked out on alcohol they get worse. Rough
treatment for the girls. Drunken local brawls fill the streets. A festive spirit
but far from happy.
Cleaned up and on to the fort. Crooked alleyways filled with souvenir stalls. A
handful of lost locals still living in the middle of it all. Impressive views of
the surrounding valley.
A hot day, down to the nearby lake to cool off. A beautiful oasis surrounded by
historic ruins. Lounging about until sunset. An excellent rooftop dinner.
My stomach definitely doesn't agree with the meal of the night before. 1g
Fasigyn for 5 days.
March 30, 2002
Day 1
Jaisalmer Camel Safari
Suckered into 2 days and 1 night camel/jeep safari 500r through the 'Golden
City' agent despite better offers, because once again we 'can't be asked'. The
gang piles into the jeep and off we go.
Brabag Tombs - Royal sandstone tombs in the middle of a valley of windmills.
Woulda been peaceful had we not been pushed back in the jeep to keep the
schedule. Some nice photos.
Ramkoda Temple - Lame.
Ropsi Village - Welcomed in by a dead cat on the road and existing only for
tourism. As if Brian and I haven't seen hundreds of 'real' villages. Ruppie
grubs.
Finished with the jeep and onto the camels. Ooops, 1 camel short, and so we wait
for 1 hour by the side of the road, and unsheltered from the intense midday
heat. The camel arrives, we jump on, and ride along side the road for 30m before
stopping for lunch. 3 hours under a weak tree waiting for the preparation of
some of the most god awful food I have ever had. An 'off' potato curry with
underpressed, undercooked, and stale flour chapati washed down with rank chai.
Brian's stomach starts to sour. Ryker's still fuming over the poor organization.
Together they get the hump and decide to call it quits. Leaving their camels
behind they scrape back to the road and hitch home. 'Besides, there's a race on
ESPN tonight.' The girls and I suck it up and stick it out. 'Besides, we've come
this far.'
A few hours of painful humping along later we finally enter 'the dunes'. And by
that I mean just enter. A sharp left at the base of the first dune, 5 minutes
further along and we stop for dinner. Pathetic? Keep that image alive and add to
it another batch of the same food. Luckily for me I am on antibiotics.
An evening of under-the-breath griping by the girls, insistant on assuring me
that the last time they did this trip it was 'magical'. Mind numbing chatter
that I really don't care about and tends to disturb the adventure. I retreat on
my own into the dunes, leaving the talk behind. The full moon rises, casting a
beautiful light, and profiling the desert infinitely into the horizon. Bathing
under the brilliant, mysterious, and peaceful night. Lost among the sands, I
fall asleep.
March 31, 2002
Day 2
Jaisalmer Camel Safari
Awoke lost and retraced my steps back at sunrise. 'Hey, where were you?' 'Oh,
somewhere' And on that note off again I went alone on a leep through the dunes
while the guide prepared breakfast. In the girls minds I have now finally
acheived 'crazy' status. Distinguished, this somehow feels good.
Once again a dissappointed. A piece of stale toast and jelly.
A long hot day and a terribly sore ass. A lot more of the same safari nonsense.
Eventually and happily as ever the safari comes to an end.
Back at the hotel, in the shower, rejuvenated and taken straight to heaven. An
excellent dinner on the roof.
April 1, 2002
B > Pushkar, India
Back to pushkar, this time by bus, 11h/190r. Under any circumstance, no matter
if you just ate, when you get on a bus in India be sure to pack food. Your
chances are about 50/50, you either will stop every 10 minutes, not at all, or
maybe just once at 1:30 in the morning like this bus did. I damn near starved to
death. Luckily during a 5 minute pee break I had just the time to run to the
nearest restaurant and take out, with the bus just pulling away when I returned.
The Natasha 'issues' begin. Arguments over my need to eat and my desparate
attempt to save myself. She is interested in joining Brian and I on bikes but is
already making waves. Plans to join up with us in Mt. Abu on my birthday April
10th. This could be the beginning of the end.
4am at the crossroad to Pushkar, Brian and I get off the bus. The London gang
stays on planning a couple weeks somewhere North before returning home. The
middle of nowhere, an empty crossroad populated only by pestering rickshaw
drivers. Tough negotiations put us in the back of an underpowered golf cart and
on our way. 1h and 19k later we manage to make it back to the Suragar Hotel to
claim our bikes. The usual after-the-fact rate arguments commence.
April 2, 2002
Pushkar, India 15,251k
Oil Pump Mishap, Cracked Fuel Filter, Flat
Arriving 1h before check-in I decide to sleep outside to avoid the 2 day fee.
Right outside and under the hotel reception window. Didn't make any friends this
morning.
Checked in to the dorm 50r. A day spent relaxing and reorganizing before jumping
back on the bikes. Sleeping, eating, and a hike up a hill to a temple for
sunset. A lot of effort and little reward. Once again, haze obscured the view.
On the way back I had the brilliant idea to fix my leaky decompressor valve and
accidently on dissassembly drop it into the engine. Lucky for me I am in India.
Where else can you find someone to rebuild an entire engine in the middle of the
night for only $5?
April 3, 2002
M > Jodhpur, India 15,260k
Gas 5.9l @ 166r
Realizing we may have missed something during our quick connection in Jodhpur,
we decided to back through on our way South to Mt. Abu. Up and out by 7 in
anticipation of beating the heat. Unfortunatly our stop in Ajmer to pick up some
spare tire tubes and the resulting breakfast break didn't find us on the road
till 10, the worst time to hit the road.
Today is one of the hottest days on record, and by noon the heat is unbearable.
The perfect time for Brian to once again blow a head gasket. A gasket which had
just been replaced earlier this week. A perfect example of quality control in
India. In my attempt to understand Enfield travel, I have come up with this
approximation of expected downtime:
Enfield Downtime Approximation
DOWNTIME% = SUM (AGEi * 2%), where age is in years
Summation over each bike in the gang
Assuming 50r/day/bike in repairs
Of course this situation leaves Brian miles behind before I check my mirrors, and
as usual we are separated and lost. I wait by the roadside ignoring a taunting
child for over an hour and give up. Work my way into the heart of town and check
into a room on the roof of the Cosy Guesthouse for 110r Washed the heavy grit
from my face and clothes and crashed hard, sweating under a whirling fan doing
it's best to keep the squeeters away.
April 4, 2002
Jodhpur, India 15,500k
Jodhpur - the 'Blue City', named so not for the visiting of someone special, but
because blue is the color of the Brahman (Hindis of the highest caste) and this
town is full of them. A city of Brahmans and their posh blue houses declaring to
all just how important they are.
100 in the shade gives no reason to run around all day, but of course being the
dedicated tourist I do anyway. An unsurpassed view from my room of the fort that
dominates the center of town, and so I keep myself happy with that for some
time. Email from Brian indicates his hotel on the outskirts of town. A fruitless
search, of course he is out looking for me.
Decide to spend the afternoon strolling town. A busy town full of market street
commotion. A major stop on the tourist road but still suprisingly unaffected by
the popularity and still moving on its own. Apparently, the status of the city
has tended to keep the annoyances away. A walk down the streets could even be
considered a pleasant experience, something you seldom face in India. On to the
fort, closed for the day but just in time to catch a school bus of kids on their
way home. Piles and smiles from the windows.
The unanimous vote on best restaurant in town is Kalinga, near the train
station. An amazing chicken tikka, pilaf, and banana lassi for only 100r. Four
stars.
Back at the ranch suprised to see Brian. Loads of story porth forth all
beginning with 'Damn Bike...'. It is obvious the drama of the past day has
drained his ambition. Plans to sell the bike to the 1st offer... To anyone... At
any price... It is love hate.
April 6, 2002
Jodhpur, India
My days start and end under a cold shower, fully clothed. This, follwed by an
hour long evaporation session under a spinning ceiling fan while listening to
Bob Marley on the dilapidated hotel cassette deck is the exact medication
required to maintain sanity in this sweltering state. To keep a low profile in
the shadows until the heat tempers off. Back to the markets with Brian for some
pictures and the fort for sunset. An incredible view down on the blue city. An
amazing city, a really spectacular scene not to be missed.
April 7, 2002
M > Jalor, India 15,517k
Gas 14.7l @ 431r
3.5h and 150k to Jalor and suprisingly no problem on the way. Our first happless
go. Another day, another town, another fort. This one, like all others, way up
on a hill. 'Can't be asked' and besides how could it compare to Jodhpur.
One predominant hotel at the end of the road. At the sight of the swimming pool
we knew it was out of our league. At the loss for a proper and reasonable hotel
we manage to weasel our way into a religeous concubine with the consideration of
a senile old guru. Two sagging and infested cots squeezed into a 10'x10'
concrete cell block.
Spent the entire day in a lazy sauna-like sweat drapped over the bed and under a
shifty ceiling fan operating 1 of every 4 hours. One relentless fly completes
the scene.
As the sun set slowly the lethargic trance gave way. Up and out on the streets
for a look see.
Jalor - a small one road town, interesting in that it carries with it the
confusion and bustle of a big city, and repulsing from the smells eminating from
its open sewer. An odd illusion of importance, as though somehow all of India
relies on the existance of this town. A people determined to double the world
population overnight.
Population Crisis
Let the air ring full the scream of crying babies
Clutched fist of orange dollie and with eyes of coal.
Dinner at the empire at the end of the road. A sanitized room of eerie blue
light and frequented by the Indian elite. Posh and pretty faces. Terrible
tasteless and costly food.
April 8, 2002
M > Mt. Abu, India 15,668k
New Rear Shocks, New Points
This is a day best described by Brian as '5 hours of driving and 3 hours of
fucking around.' Off to an early start, but as usual a false start. Plagued by
electrical problems demanding a new point set. A mistaken turn on to a back
road, a bone jarring shock busting hour, only to turn around and drive the whole
way back. A break in Sirohi for replacements. The usual fending off of the
crowds. My Swiss Army Knife dissappears.
Climbing 1h of twisty road straight up Mt. Abu. The 1st mountain road of the
journey and a welcome sight from the dull flat and baking plains of the past
week. The temperature drops a good 10 and a cool breeze develops. My face breaks
into a grin as the bike leans into the curves. For the past week I have been
waiting for this. Memories of my trip through Central America return.
Mt. Abu - Indian tourist central. Check into the LakeView with a nice view of
the lake and the peak Guru Sihar. 200r/double. Lake View, one of the few honest
claims I have come across travelling India. Email from Natasha 'Tash', arriving
by train tomorrow, 12:45.
Ice cream by the lake side. A beer back at the room.
April 10, 2002
Mt. Abu, India 15,840k
Gas 9.7l @ 275r
Happy 32nd birthday to me! The official anniversary of my 3rd year on the road.
My gift from India, the shits hit hard. A periodic and rythmic pumping of fluid
from my ass. I couldn't have asked for more, how lucky I am on this special day.
My first significant illness in this dirty country.
A ride into town to pick up Tash at the station. Full of stories of hard sleeper
harassment and noticeably tired, but happy to be here.
A birthday spent paddling a plastic swan around the lake followed by a horse
ride to the Hilltone for dinner, complete with the famous black forest birthday
cake. A hike up the mountainside for a spectacular view over the Abu valley and
sunset. A 'lovely' day.
April 11, 2002
Mt. Abu, India
Strange dreams - Rickshaw driver follows me on a 3-week trek around Annapurna.
An initial 1500r fare which by the end had dropped to 15r.
Still not feeling so well I submit a stool to the local hospital for analysis.
Negative results, not so convincing. An extra roll of TP fits nicely into my
daypack.
Motoring around the mountains. A gang visit to the spectacular marble temple,
where we spent hours lying on our backs in amazement at the intricate carvings.
One of the few noteable sights so far.
Natasha's night out. Too sick for a night on the town I stay behind as she jumps
into a car of strange locals headed to 'a party in the countryside' and prepared
for a night of heavy drinking. Not to return until early morning, leaving me
worried to death of what might have happened. Issues develop.
April 12, 2002
Mt. Abu, India
Another lovely and lazy day. A bit of exercise but for the most part just
relaxing.
April 13, 2002
Mt. Abu, India
Baisakhi - The 1699 anniversary of the Seik religeon. Brian, tired of 'doing
nothing' and desparate for some photo subjects takes off for Udaipur. Tash and I
stick around for the festivities.
Invited in by a friendly Seik, Jasvinder Singh and family to the home and to the
party. Talks by prominent members of the Seik local society, sing alongs, and
good food. A definate experience to which my contribution was capturing it in
digital and distributing it on CD.
April 14, 2002
M > Udaipur, India 15,920k
Broken Plug Cap, New Plug, Timing Adjust
The NH76 to Udaipur - The most scenic and enjoyable ride to date. A fresh and
green modulating road. Light traffic, low stress, nice curves, and fresh air.
The most troublesome ride to date. Broken plug cap, more timing problems, and
the clincher a thirsty battery that had me stalled out a good hard push to the
nearest village.
Sat down to a drink of 7th Upand watched the flies infest the streetside snacks
as the 'experts' went to work filling the battery with acid and water and giving
it a charge. The damage - A systematic breaking of both battery connectors and a
demand for 100r. Infuriated, I refused payment, dumped out all their hard labor,
filled it myself with some tap water, and hiked it 1k up a hill out of town for
a jump start.
Back on the road and just in time to witness the sunset. The perfect time for
the headlight, running lights, and signals to simultaneously expire. Another
episode of driving through the dark LED light in mouth. I pull into town
sputtering and the battery case screw fall out. A quick fix with chicken wire.
Check into the Lonely Planet recommended LalGhat Guesthouse. Coincidently the
same place and same time as Tash arriving by bus. Shared a prison cell of a room
for 200r. Decided it better to camp on the roof under the stars. A hot restless
night fighting mosquitoes.
April 15, 2002
Udaipur, India
Tired from a night of unrest, I retreat to the room in the early morning for
more unrest. A jealous Tash raises issues. Complaints of having not been
'invited' to my campout escapade. I hopelessly try to apologize and convince her
that she didn't miss much. Suddenly a seemingly endless list of issues emerge.
Thankfully saved by a knock on the door.
'Brian!' Who happened across my bike on an early morning stroll through town. An
afternoon of story telling, eating, and trying to catch up on sleep. An evening
of mingling with the locals in a street carnival setup to kick off a week long
festival of traditional wears. Fireworks and the 'ferris wheel from hell',
powered by human mouse. We have decided on our favorite dinner lounge.
April 16, 2002
Udaipur, India 16,100k
New Battery Acid, BIG Repairs @ 1100r
Decided to spend the day, taking advantage of the big city, catching up on
obviously needed moto repairs. Brian found a good shop in town that he trusts,
whatever that means, and so I gave it a shot. 9 hours and 1100r of shoddy work
later I emerge both elevated that my bike almost actually works and frustrated
from numerous mechanic struggles.
Moved hotels. A place not recommended by the LP and of course a palace of a room
compared to the last, and for almost half price. A hot shower and I am starting
to feel rejuvenated.
Brian suggests a strong 'Bang' to ease the frustrations and take the edge off.
It worked wonderfully. An epic night of freeze frame James Bond 'Octopussy',
showed nightly here as a scene or two had been filmed here. Strange and
wonderful behavior.
April 17, 2002
Udaipur, India
Motored to the Monsoon Palace, decided it was too expensive and returned. A
fruitless attempt at motorcycle shopping for Tash. Another night of the same.
Plans to train the bikes to Bombay to avoid the reported troubles in Gujarat.
Brian is scared, I understand.
April 18, 2002
T > Ahmedabad, India 16,141k
Empty Gas, Broken Turn Signals, Assorted Scratches
The night train to Ahmedabad (the city we were attempting to avoid) enroute to
Bombay. Packed up the bikes and loaded them on. An armored train with steel
curtain windows. Lucky passengers of a coach sans shocks. A sweaty night in the
middle bunk under an old man skilled at the arts of snoring, spitting, and
farting.
April 19, 2002
T > Bombay, India 16,169k
Gas 3l @ 90r
5am and we pull in to Ahmedabad. 2h spent searching for the lost motorbikes,
left abandoned by postal staff on platform 12 and keenly spotted by Brian.
Pushed onto the new train. The daily express to Bombay. A hard seat, and a long
hot ride full of bad attitude.
Bombay - One of the most orderly and cleanest cities in all of India. A
situation mostly due to the fact that it was influenced heavily by the europeans
and also in part due to the lack of cows and shit in the middle of the streets.
The traffic actually gets where it is going. A city of chich Idian upper caste.
Good jobs, decent hygeine, and a sense of manners, in sharp contrast to the rest
of the country.
A dinner of pizza and ice cream. More attitude, more issues.
April 20, 2002
Bombay, India 16,177k
A day at the markets, Brian. Out shopping for a moto, Tash. Peaceful and
solitary journal catchup, Me.
A day wrought with significant arguments and issues. Brian is starting to get
the hump over Tash and my constant squabble. The end is definitely near.
April 21, 2002
Bombay, India
A day at the meat market, witnessing the unbelieveable. Absolutely the worst
conditions I have ever seen, all caught in vivid Fuji Provia 100f.
The arguments continue and increase sharply in intensity. Arguments over what,
I don't really know. I think it has something to do with a laundry bucket but it
is hard to tell. I want things to work, but Tash seems to feed off of the
constant drama. I think it has something to do with her rough past and turbulent
family life. A perfect example of the type of personality I see drawn to this
country. To think of it as an escape. She is pushing hard to find a bike. I am
pushing hard to travel alone. Brian is caught in the middle. Guilt and regret
sets in. To give it another try.
April 22, 2002
Bombay, India 16,207k
BIG Repairs @ 600r
A day browsing the antique market. Junkyard brass sailor crap.
Tash buys a moto! A day spent together down at the moto market scouring the
offerings. A black '97 Hero Honda w/ 22,000k, negotiated from 32,000r down to
27,000r. A Japanese bike of practicality over the Indo/Brit style of an Enfield.
Half the weight, double the mileage, and infinately more reliable. She's
excited, and it is good to see a smile. I am reluctantly hopeful.
April 23, 2002
Bombay, India
My guitar is on it's last string, literally. Crying for mercy, the neck
separating from the body. I give it to the street bum that is persistent in
hassling me every morning. The bum that spent the other day washing (dirtying)
my bike and trying to rip me off. Replaced by a bag of biscuits and bomb
rockets.
Brian finally gets the hump. Tired of the drama and decides to take off on his
own, on his way to Goa. A final straw that locks me in. I, envious and
disconnected.
April 24, 2002
M > Kashid Beach, India 16,220k
Clutch Adjust, New Clutch Cable
Tash's 1st day on the road. A confusing 2 hours and 6 lanes out of Bombay.
Congested, heavily polluted, and dangerous for a first time driver; she keeps up
suprisingly well. 3 hours of pleasing back roads to Kashid Beach. Leaning palms
shade our way, and coastal views keep smiles on our faces. A quick stop for a
photo and a clutch adjustment, and 'twang' a snapped clutch cable. Unfortunately
Brian took off with my spare, and I am left to salvage off another old bike in a
nearby village.
A beautiful sunset over the Arab Sea. After dark we find ourselves a secluded
spot on a white sand beach. Setup camp, splash out, and back track into Kashid
to a posh resort for dinner. Back on the beach we break out the Bombay fireworks
and launch a show. A memorable day, Tash in a good mood. Happy and relatively
painless.
April 25, 2002
M > Mahad, India 16,378k
Gas 9l @ 260r, Clutch Adjust, Chain & Guard Adjust, Oil, Rear Rubbers, Air Filter
The turmoil quickly returns. Wild mood swings and the intense midday heat are
both pushing me to my limits. An accidental separation on road inevitably turns
into trouble off road. An amazing waterfall of arguments. I want out of this
mess. We both go in our own directions. The roads eventually merge and back we
are. Fate.
Pull into Mahad after dark. A crappy, ugly, Sambhar lake like town and a
cockroach double. Decent chinese food, but with a double dose of salt and MSG
burns my toungue. Email from Brian, he's made it to Vagator Beach in Goa.
Enjoying his new found freedom. Whoas me.
April 26, 2002
M > Ganpatipule Beach, India 16,503k
Gas 7.2l @ 210r
The NH17 to Goa - 'Goa Road', a curvaceous and freshly paved road, cutting back
and forth across opposing ridges and looking down on a deep valley of mixed
foliage, sticklike trees and lost and forgotten dirt roads where locals can be
seen carting baskets on head. A vivid reminder of my journey through Wutai Shan,
China. I look down and the speedometer bounces between 60 and 80. I look up to
find 6 Tatas jockeying in echelon, waiting for the split second chance to
overtake. Around the bend an overturned Tata ironically waits.
The sun becomes unbearable. The Hotel Pagoda, a desert oasis with a pool, and we
stop for a swim. The sun retreats, and feeling refreshed and in good spirits we
are back in the saddle.
A cool early evening ride to Ganpatipule. A local tourist beach at the base of a
hill. A deep stink of human feces fills the air, piles of trash cover the
ground, but the locals don't seem to mind, they love it here. A beach Lonely
Planet describes as beautiful, a description that is a bit misleading I would
say. We stop for the 'must see' temple built up around a cropping of rock
considered a 'natural Ganesh'. We both agree that it looks more like an orange
blob of cement, a real joke.
Back up the hill to camp anywhere away from this mess. Tash demands comfort. The
Hotel Sea & Sun, where the 3 kids in charge are quick to settle on a non
negotiable price of 1500r/room. An otherwise empty hotel that seems like
something out of the Twilight Zone.
We compromise on the comfort and manage after considerable cherades to negotiate
a proper matress to use inside our tent for 100r. Part of the deals did of course
involve handing over the spare fireworks we have been carrying from Bombay. An
entertaining and surely dangerous show. 36 bottle rockets of 1/4 second fuse set
off by the kids, and all soaring within inches of the tent. Tash attempting to
distance herself from the scene by seeking refuge in the tent wasn't as amused
as the kids were. A cool, breezy, comfortable night of quality sleep under a sky
full of stars and a full moon.
April 27, 2002
M > Rajapur, India 16,697k
Broken Lights, Clutch Scratching Sound
6am sunrise. 7am the pounding of heavy drum music, overamplified and distorted.
Like most things in India, apparently quality is not the concern, it's sheer
quantity. The reason? Does there need to be one? Instant swarming around the
tent and repeated reminders to 'go' in hindi. The deal must be over and so we
do, but not before a hot shower, time strictly negotiated in terms of the number
of rockets fired.
On to Rataguri through fields of mangos. 12 Alfonso for 80r, a bit steep but
very tasty. An excellent lunch of chinese and some grand creation vs. evolution
discussion resulting in the conclusion that unusual exercise (like bicycling
around the world) is counterproductive to good health. Onward.
The Hero Honda is 'acting funny' and so we stop for a few hours to clean the
carb, full of crud. A service the original owners obviously never bothered with.
A race through the dark to Rajapur.
A cheap hotel offering an in room service Thali. A solid night of sleep on a
rock hard bed.
Today's Issues - Inconsiderate driving Grief Level - Considerable
April 28, 2002
M > Vagator Beach, India 16,818k
Gas 13.6l @ 400r, New Decompressor, Tappets Bent
Awoken to find the entire town of kids plastered up against the room, peeking in
through absolutely every crack in the walls. The inevitable and unavoidable lack
of privacy and disregard common to travel through India.
The final stretch to Goa. A nice cool drive in the shade of the palms. Fast and
free until dusk.
Goa - The Portuguese predominated tourist central. An island of Christianity in
a sea of Hinduism. Perhaps the most sanity per square meter.
Vagator Beach - The Dahab of Goa. A hippie playground, much like Pushkar but set
on an attractive coastline. A majestic westernized layabout and waste away
single road beach town with all the conveniences to make the way weary traveller
feel at home. A haven from India proper. Plans to settle here for a few days.
The fruitless search for Brian, left yesterday, smart man. All that is left
behind, one clutch cable and a rash of excuses why the fireworks are missing.
Immediately set down to take advantage of the luxury. A beef sizzler and a beer
to put me happily to sleep.
April 29, 2002
Vagator Beach, India
An early morning argument over just about anything. I release myself from the
eye of the storm by retreating to the beach. Feels good to be off the bike.
Laying in the shade far from distraction, or so I thought. Not long before a
lungi lugging woman is hovering over me, trying to sell some rags. I show no
sign of life, conciously preventing even the slightest reaction which may
encourage her on. No acknowledgements or response in any way whatsoever.
Regardless, business must be rough in this off season and she carries on for 3
hours. Deciding for me which color I might prefer. Negotiating what it should
cost. Laying it out for a test. No response. She thinks to herself that I may
not understand her broken sales english and waves over her friend the peanut
boy. '300r sari, you take' No response. She aggrivates and starts to play the
trick the tourist game. 'You take, free gift' I take it as a cue, literally.
'Thanks' and I nonchelantly roll over and onto it and fall fast asleep. She
humors for a moment before realizing I might have taken her offer seriously,
something normally never done. She starts to fume. 'No free, you pay' 'Give me
sari!' I turn and continue to act asleep. 'Give me, I bring tourist police,
HAH!' I turn over, look up 'Go ahead, bring' 'I bring husband' 'Go' In a rage
she snatches it out from under me with all her might and scampers off cursing in
Hindi. 'Crazy American' Inside I laugh 'Crazy Indian'.
I lazy into the beach cafe for a bite. A couple of sunburned and crusty
Belgians, sandy maroon and swinging from hammocks. I take a seat and together we
share our stories of Mexico, seems appropo. Eventually ofcourrse (as is always
the case with Euros) the conversation turns to American political bully Bush
bashing and such. Arguments always single sided and ill-informed. Arguments I
have learned to stay out of. My decidedly neautral position confuses them.
Eventually they talk their way into a pro-American policy and after an hour they
realise they have contradicted and confused themselves thoroughly. 'Ahh, a nice
day huh?' To meet later for dinner.
Shower and a short siesta. Tash has cooled down, accompanied by apologies. The
meeting over an amazing shark medallions and beer. More talk, this time men vs.
women and Euro work vacation policies tend to dominate. An entertaining crowd.
An interesting day.
April 30, 2002
Vagator Beach, India
Another day on the beach. Movel hotels, the Jolly Jolly, much nicer and again
cheaper. King fish dinner with a new crowd from the UK. Lorraine and Nick, an
older couple non-couple of Arthur-esk life living neo-hippies. Equally
entertaining chat.
May 1, 2002
Vagator Beach, India
Replaced Bent Tappet
Lorraine and Nick invited us to a bonfire on the beach for tonight so we decided
to stay the extra day. A drive into town for some party supplies (aka.
fireworks), for me and my weekly Enfield repairs, and for Tash and her weekly
makeover. Just in time for the midday siesta, all shops closed until late
afternoon. A break for some soft-serve at an appropriate street stand right next
to an open sewer and back to the beach with time to burn. The scenic route,
mango trees and Christian churches.
No more then an hour after returning we are on our way back to town. Replaced my
bent tappets with original Enfields at a costly 500r while Tash 'did her nails'
and off to the market. Searching for the big guns and only to find one old lady
with a few crackers 'taking a piss'. No thanks.
A few bottles of beer and a late return to the beach where the gang was already
half-baked. Sandy rockfish and prawns. Sing along to Sting on the boombox. A
full moon.
May 2, 2002
M > Panaji, India 17,026k
Gas 10.6l @ 280r
Another blazing day, and of course our plans to beat the heat to Palolem Beach
were once again spoilt by an extended breakfast goodbye with the Brits. That,
and suggestions that 'you gotta see the fort before you go'. A sweaty climb up
the side of a dusty hill. A spectacular panorama of the Vagator Peninsula and a
steady breeze refreshing from the unforgiving sun. I admit, it was a worthwhile
diversion.
A short and easy ride to the capital city of Panaji, where what was to be a
quick stop at the market for fruit turned into an extended search for a tower
with a view. Signs celebrating the 'Goa Food Festival', sponsored by Pepsi and
Kingfisher, with special guest 'Deep Purple'. An event we can't miss, and so we
park the bikes for the night.
The 'Grafitti Hotel' - Extended negotiations led us to one of the grubbiest,
hottest, and stickiest back of the bar rooms in town. Walls of cracking
concrete, plastered in hippie philosophic poetry and sketch. The cheapest room
in town and loads of character. Who could ask for more?
The 'Goa Food Festival' - A crowded fairground of decent but pricey food,
sketchy amusement park rides, and a stage belching of music. A night among the
crowd, full of BO and spasmatically 'dancing' to the sounds of Shaggy's 'Been
caught...'.
As the night develops, the dancing energizes. Tash suprise jumps onto stage and
is instantly thrust into the limelight. Immediate star of the event, 5 minutes
of fame. She grooves on the attention. Lit up for the rest of the night.
I awaken my digicam to capture the scene. A faint buzz, followed by a blank
screen announcing 'E18'. I suspect a more appropriate 'Lens jammed with sand'
error. An fault that Canon proudly blames on the user and not on poor design.
Timing that couldn't be more perfect. Murphy would be proud.
On the way home everyone passing us lets out a cheer for Tash. Deep Purple?
Maybe we read the sign wrong.
May 3, 2002
M > Palolem Beach, India 17,065k
Bedbugs live in the cracks, wandering out at night insearch of blood. Tash the
victim, kept up all night. Providing ample material to sustain an extended bitch
session, because 'You were the one who picked this place.' The struggle
intensifies, and she finally breaks down and buys her own road map. A symbol
affording her the freedom to roam as she pleases. The sun is starting to show
through the clouds.
Regardless of the obvious implications, we struggle along a bit further to Marao
for a stop at the Chinese Haus, recommended by the odd couple. Excellent food
over a continued bitch over a miss understanding in driving directions. A
perfect time to break out the new map and smug over it. Eagerly she fingers
through it, not quite sure which direction is North, but giddy with excitement.
I am borderline exstatic. One step closer.
Regardless, again we struggle along down the coast to Colva Beach, Indian
tourist heaven. I take an unannounced break for a raspberry dolly. The straw
that broke the camel's back. Tash is 'Fed up!'. She 'goes'...
For the first time in months I am once again on my own. At the same time I am
overwhelmed and alone. The freedom to do as I please without headache or hassle.
Perhaps too good to be true?
To test the condition I off in my own direction and buy a bag of mangos. No
negotiations. One at a time I finish them off, all the while leisurely chatting
to a Portuguese local in Spanish. No complaints. It is true... I am free!
Quickly the lone space is filled with a decision on a destination and off I go.
Cabo de Rama - A refreshing ride along the coastal back road to an ancient fort
overlooking the sea. Well off the tourist track, I am the only one. Exactly what
I need, a few hours of beautiful scenery and complacent peace. A swim in the
sea.
More refreshing ride onward to Palolem during sunset. Setup my tent on a remote
stretch of beach and into town for dinner. Palolem - Not a whole lot different
then Vagator. A bit more popular with the younger generation vagabond, usually
either stoned or planning on it. A rave the next night has the town in talk.
Free from the travel partner shell I once again engage in the social atmosphere.
Good food and good talks and in walks the devil. My stomach turns, this can't be
true. Over to my table and down she sits. Her and her new friend, a lanky bloak
high on speed and bragging on and on about planning a day hike to the fort
(about a week by foot) and something else equally stupid.
'Hey' 'Hey... Hot night huh?' 'Yeah hot... Where you staying?' 'Camped on the
beach' 'I got a hut if you can't find a place' 'Looking forward to a night on
the beach' And that about sums up the dinner talk. A bit awkward.
I return to my bike to find a note crumpled up in the handlebar. An
uncomfortable sweaty and sandy sleepless night alone.
May 4, 2002
Palolem Beach, India
An early morning dip in the sea failed to recover me from my sleepless haze.
Breakfast in a sea side cafe and once again, suprise. 'How'd you sleep?' 'I
didn't' 'I got a shower if you need it' An offer too tempting. A day trying to
resolve our differences, a tough friendship to forge. A night camped out on the
point.
May 5, 2002
M > Gokarn, India
The famous Peter John Wild. Tash's strung out neighbor. Tatooed from the top
down, a truely wild english dude in recovery mode from a long week of rave. 24
and 'getting to old for this'. Jazzed on horse tranquilizers and convinced this
is the end of his crazy days. A man that has done seemingly everything and has
plenty of stories to amuse.
A one hour ride to Gokarn turns three. A stop at a nearby 'must see' animal
reserve. The attraction, 400m of unmarked trail (measured 800m) to a treetop
lookout for tigers. Spent an hour in the hush and all we saw were lizards and
mosquitoes.
A police checkpost leaving Goa. No problem for me after convincing the guard my
CA license was an international one. Big problems for Tash without a license.
Quick thinking, I pulled out the 'it was stolen' story and negotiated the
demanded 1000r fine down to 100r. A bill that fit nicely in the pocket. Tash is
shaken by the whole event and repeatedly thankful for my red-tape dodging
wizardry.
Immediately, another checkpost entering Karnataka. Repeated demands. I hold firm
on the 'No Way' tactic and after a few minutes of threats to report the crooked
guards, they open the gate and let us through. More thanks.
Karnataka - Reminders of Central America. Lush rolling hills and twisting good
road. Sea views and friendly locals.
Gokarn - A pleasant and fervently religeous beach town on the verge of tourism.
Pulled in after dark to a relatively new hotel. Fan but no electricity. A late
night walk through town in search of food. A really cheap and equally bad thali.
May 6, 2002
Gokarn, India
Travel by motorbike can really impact your health. Spent most of the day
exercising. That and a trip down to the beach to watch the fat Indian tourists
splash about in the breakwater. A challenge to the refreshment shop owners to a
few rounds of chess. A wander up and over the hill to the 'other' beach and back
in time for sunset. A typical restaurant scene where 50% of the menu isn't
available but this you are never told.
May 7, 2002
M > Half Moon Beach, India
Decided to camp the night on one of the less touristed neighboring beaches.
Stashed our packs and motored to Om Beach. A rugged dirt road which somewhere
along the way rattled the key right out of the bike.
Lost and backtrack to recover. Insults fly, naturally leading to the arguments
of the day. Arguments which have developed into out right and senseless power
struggles. Deep issues, unresolvable and repeatable. Heaps of insecurity.
In a desparate attempt to get away from it all and enjoy my day I decided to
hike it alone one more over to Half Moon Beach. Instantly welcomed in to the
Half Moon Beach 'Resort' (a small adobe hut) by the zealous owner Mabu and his
wife, elated by the business. Just me and a couple British 'peace corp' girls on
vacation and longing to return home, possibly the most business he has seen
during this off-season. I claim my hammock, order my obligitory banana lassi,
dal fry, and chowmein? and sit back for the day.
Mabu is good at chess.
Mabu's Half Moon Beach Resort
For the first time in months the blue skies break and on the horizon the sight
of storm clouds rolling in. Monsoons early this year they say. The girls quickly
pack up and go. I setup my tent on the beach.
A beautifully cool and breezy night alone under the stars on a deserted
fairytale white sand beach. Flashes of lightening threaten the mountains inland.
May 8, 2002
Half Moon Beach, India
The monsoons begins...
What started as a peaceful night under the stars turned violent hurricane.
Tormenting winds and heavy thunderstorms quickly moved in, uplifting my tent and
turning it to sail. Dripping inside and me spread eagle trying to keep it on the
ground. Blinding white flashes surround. A scene undoubtably proving my reduced
3-stake tent modification a failure. After such a long drought; however, it all
felt very welcome.
Managed to shut my eyes somehow durning the midst of it all and awoke to the
competing sounds of singing birds and a distant thunder rumble. A beautiful day
after.
A day of relaxation. Back to Om Beach to catch up with Tash who spent the night
safe and sound with all the other hippie renegades in Hotel Namaste. Convinced
her the scene at HMB was better and so the return this time together for another
day of hammocks and chess. 3 Spaniards arrive. A bit of language study.
A day of Giardia. 3 times loose and extremely smelly tan and spotty floaters. I
decide to hold off on the medicine to see how it develops.
May 9, 2002
M > Hubli, India 17,300k
Gas 10.5l @ 316r, Clutch Adjust, New Tappet Bending!, Broken Kick Lever
Light showers in the early morning found us in retreat mode in the new dormitory
hut under construction. A nice morning in admiration of the weather. Dancing in
the rain.
A cloudy afternoon on our way back to Gokarn. A decent thali. An episode of
money changing where '50m on left' really means '200m on right' and the cop that
was convinced my bike was disrupting the steady flow of traffic through town.
Traffic which consisted of two rickshawes which had no trouble rounding me but
came to a stop when they reached the cows sitting in the middle of the road.
A quick tappet adjustment. The first adjustment since installation and already
showing signs of bending on the right. Quality, a word that has no meaning in
India.
On to Hubli enroute to Hampi, with a quick stop planned in Badami. The 63 to
Hubli - A motorcycle dream road twisting through dense forest on freshly paved
wide and banked asphalt. 136k at an average speed of 60k/h and a max speed of
85k/h, the best so far.
Another 'rawl' after an accidental separation on the way to the hotel. She's
'had enough and wants closure'. Finally, maybe this time is for real. An
extremely restful night on perhaps the cleanest bed in all of India.
May 10, 2002
M > Nargund, India 17,465k
Gas 9.5l @ 300r, Clutch Adjust, Clutch Squeeling, Broken Pegs
Once again Tash 'goes'. This time a lot slower out the door and in my opinion not
fast enough. We just don't cope well with each other and there is no use in
pushing it.
Within minutes she is back. 'My bike won't start...' 'Yeah?' A moment of pause
followed by a hopeful 'Would you take a look?'. Reluctantly I recommend for her
to take the first step on her own and check the spark plug. Moments later she
returns and hands it over for inspection. A cracked insulator, something about
quality. I send her to the market for a replacement. A quick fix putting her
back on the road.
Within minutes she is back again. 'Where are you going?' 'Badami' A moment of
pause followed by a hopeful 'Can I go with you?' Frustrated in this persistance
'You do what you want... I just don't want any arguing over it' And with that
off we go. Chased out of town by heavy storm clouds.
A bit on our way and we pass a crowd of exotics parading along. We stop to
witness a Hindi funeral burial of a 100 year old tribal lady. Wired stiff and
propped up in a lead pipe chair of incense and flowers, crusty and lifeless. A
slow and solemn march to the spot. The ladies cry for some time and after they
lower the corpse into the hole. Gifts of chapati and other oddities are thrown
in. I break out the firecrackers, and instantly we are considered 'family'.
Thrust to the front of the crowd for the best viewing. A bit more gunie guru by
the tribal elders and everyone surrounds to fill in the dirt. All the while a
persistent voice repeats 'they never bury, they always burn'.
The rains catch us and off we go. Scattered showers on a muddled dirt road. Lack
of preparations for the conditions results in 2 spills: Tash, right from the get
go, cutting her foot and knee and otherwise leaving the bike untouched. Me,
moments later after a subtle turn led to a fishtail through the mud, cutting my
foot and bending both foot pegs.
Across flat plains with a vivid backdrop of storm clouds and lightening. A stop
for chai during the heart of the storm. A stop for gas in the dusty town of
Nargund where I learned what it feels like to have petrol in yer willy. 'Fill it
up' and he certainly did. A real rocket scientist, overflowing a liter onto the
bike and me. Had me quickly hopping about in search of a rinse. A deep burning
with possible permanent damage. A real jackass, showing no remorse (laughing his
ass off) and charging me for the spilt fuel.
Looking ahead to a rough ride through heavy winds we decide to stop for the
night. A room on the roof of the Laxmi Hotel. A power outage. Candlelight.
May 11, 2002
M > Badami, India
A cheater man nails me for 100r to fix the foot pegs and off we go to Badami.
Check into a cell of a room and out to explore the caves. Petra/Datong-like
sandstone carved out caves up on a hill overlooking town. Smelling heavily of
urination and totally unimpressive, better the view of the temples around the
lake. Not content with a pleasant day, Tash stirs up another 'rawl'. On and on
endlessly and very insultingly about me being selfish and moody and never
listening to her all the while ignoring every word I say. Finally I get fed up
and 'go', leaving Tash behind and continuing on to Hampi alone.
M > Hampi, India
A ride that seemed forever along a really bad washboarded dirt and stone road.
Finally joined up with the NH13, Delhi to Bangalore, the Tata express, a decent
road with far too many dirty trucks. Through Hospet, a locals only city ripe
with road blocks and workers busy humoring over the crowds trying to push
through. A beautiful sunset over the palms entering Hampi.
A dozen children in the bazaar area greet my arrival, annoying little hawkers
for the Padma Guesthouse. Too tired to care, I check it out. No rooms available,
strange. I arrange to camp on the roof for free in anticipation of a room
tomorrow.
Out onto the main drag for a really expensive and crappy thali and the slowest
internet experience ever. 2 hours and one email from Brian. Just left Hampi
yesterday to begin his trip north through the middle of the country and back to
Delhi. Recommends another guesthouse, and left more bike parts.
A breezy cool night on the roof, mosquitoes circling the Good Knight mosquito
coil. Thankfully no sign of Tash.
May 12, 2002
Hampi, India
A clear day. Switched hotels. Replaced the clutch cable on the bike. Around town
for a look see.
Hampi - A one road tourist town proud to offer the most stunning temples and
scenery in all of India. Exotic plants, huge structures of rock, a nice river,
and a rash of temples. Bundles of cheap hotels offering marley-esk rooftop cafes
with all the western favorites. Another place to relax away a few weeks from
India proper.
An aimless and thoughtful early morning wander around the temples of Hemakuta
Hill.
There is a business in the building of temples
To keep the people in their positions
Under
Virupaksha Temple - Dominating the middle of town. Full of tourist elephant
opportunties, barefoot Krishna westerners, and Indian tourists. Prayers to the 7
headed snake. Ruppies paid for the experience of an assembly line whacking of
the coconut offering, dumping the milk onto the floor, and returning the halves.
Throwing incense and flowers into woven baskets and arguing with the nut
cracker over an uneven split.
Hinduism - A religeon that would surely be a difficult practice in America, as
we have far fewer coconuts. Would the gods be mad if we offered peanuts instead?
How come animals don't pray? Maybe they do, but choose not to make such a scene
over it.
A walk along the river, met by a Lisa Nielson of Reno, NV, on an extended break
from school, and with plans to travel to Central America. Together we braved the
stones and spun the teacup banana leaf boats down the river to visit more
temples. An argument free day of pleasant strolling about and travel talk. A
lovely break from the fury of the past.
A late afternoon climb up a nearby hill to an abandoned temple with an amazing
sunset view of Hampi valley. A sky of looming storm clouds saturated in orange
skirts its way around town. A candlelight dinner at the Mango Tree alongside a
gang of Italians cheerful on the tree swing and full of 'Bellisimo'.
May 13, 2002
Hampi, India 17,709k
BIG Repairs @ 1300r
Plans to tour the Royal Temples by bike with Lisa turned into an extended visit
to the Enfield Service Center in Hospet. An afternoon of market fruit salad
while overseeing some pretty heavy repairs. A late rush back to Hampi to pick up
Lisa's gear and get her back to the station in time for her train to Bangalore.
With scheduled connections to Darjeeling, Bangkok, Hanoi, San Francisco, and
Costa Rica over the next few days an important train not to miss. Weaving
through the blocks and bumping along. Just in time to jump on as the train pulls
away. Adios y buena suerte.
Back to the hotel for dinner on the rooftop. A couple of France mention Tash is
in town. A night of Carrom, an extremely popular shuffle board version of pool.
May 14, 2002
Hampi, India 17,770k
Peter Wild rolls into town with cohort Ollie of Brussels. A perfect couple,
tooth through the ear and painted in tattoos. A bundle of stories flow from their
mouths, following an epic all night ride from Palolem. Bloodshot and blasted. An
adventure, complete with police episodes, drugs smuggling, a detained rental
bike without papers, heavy rains... Breakfast on the rooftop, dazzling a table
of young british chicks with the story and on the prowl for some other chicks
they met at a party in Goa, and looking for a bit of 'jiggy jiggy'. Coughing up
a lung and flashing the moon to show off their road bruises. Living la vida
loca.
A midday siesta for me, and on the bike for a look around, another attempt at
the Royal Temples. Enroute, the Wild passes by and stirs me into his escapades,
the search for the girls. Together we throw the bikes into a teacup (literally) to cross the
river and go. A fruitless search that finally brings him down.
On the return, a blind curve has me responding to instinct. My right foot comes
down hard... and I shift into a higher gear. 'SHIT!' Swerving just inches from a
massive boulder and a jump off the side of the road, 10' down and into a thick
gravel banking at 30k/h. In yet another storke of significant luck, I slide out
from under the bike and am left standing. A small cut on my foot. I lift the
bike, dripping of gas and still running sideways, to find the same footpegs
again broken. A very close call. Pete drives by seemingly disinterested in my
condition, obviously with his mind on other things, and carries on. I count my
blessings and slowly motor back to town, rehearsing the foot break on the left.
Natasha appears. The same shitty thali joint on the main drag, I stop out of
respect. 'Hey' 'Hey' There is something different about her. A new haircut, new
makeup, new clothes, and in for a one week ayurvedic detox in Hospet. It is
obvious she has done quite a bit of thinking over the past week and is trying to
put herself back together. Happy to see me and confused at the same time.
We talk over dinner, just as bad as it was the last time, and carefully keep a
lid on things. In join a few new british friends of hers and the awkward mood is
thankfully distracted by talk of some hill station near Mysore.
May 15, 2002
Hampi, India 17,795k
Gas 13l @ 396r
The cut on my foot is starting to fester. I am unusually tired and an overall
body soreness tend to dominate. Headache and chills. I am suspecting infection.
A day back to Hospet for some final repairs. A persistent oil leak from under
the clutch casing. A handful of seals replaced. Too late to continue on I return
to Hampi, detouring finally through the Royal Temples. Nice temples, but
ridiculously steep admission prices keep me on bike.
Finally came to the stark realization that my bike is shit, and that Pinky
cheated me. After all the repairs, the bike is finally starting to do well, but
the trip is nearing end and I probably won't find a quick buyer willing to cover
the costs. Reckon I had better start searching for a friend to leave it with.
The oil still drips.
May 16, 2002
Hampi, India 17,845k
Plans to head to Bangalore, after another shot at repair. Another go at new
seals, and this time an actual check of the gear oil. A check of the gear oil?
Isn't that the same as the motor oil? Well on most bikes it is, once again
Enfield is the exception. Something I never checked and of course bone dry. With
a broken seal I must have run it dry right out of Delhi. No wonder the bike has
been acting so poorly.
The foot is definitely infected. A 15r trip to the doctor for treatment. No
fever he says, but it sure feels like it. Dabbed it with some alcohol soaked
cotton, bandaged it up, and prescribed me with:
Paracetamol - Pain killer, 500mg 3/day 3 days
Amoxycillin - Antibiotic, 250mg 3/day 3 days
Feeling a lot better, but I decided not to push it and returned to Hampi for
another day of rest.
Hospet to Hampi - Once again, the road I so love to hate. 15k of mixed asphalt
and sand crated like the moon and in a constant state of repair. Each day the
road blocks inch 1k further along, the finished side looking just as bad as the
unfinished. Absolutely no concern whatsoever for maintaining the thoroughfare.
Out of sheer angst, I take a 15 minute stop to grab a shovel out of one sleepy
'workers' hands to clear only a narrow bike sized path through a thoughtfully
dumped pile of gravel while the other 30 'workers' watched and laughed. A line
of cars just waiting for a chance to push their way through, and nobody cares.
Something so basic and so obviously neglected. Thanks to my comical effort the
days lineup slowly subsided.
Back at the hotel and just in time to see off the Wild. On his way back to Goa
and on another non-stop overnight adventure race. Good luck.
May 17, 2002
M > Bangalore, India 17,875k
Gas 14.9l @ 453r
A partly cloudy day, both cool and pleasant.
The NH13 to Bangalore - The beauty and the beast. Mixed sections of fresh
asphalt and something quite a bit less. Burstingly overloaded Tatas, rampantly
honking and swerving back and forth. Busses of roof-riders towing a visible
shockwave of venomous gravel and black smoke. A lethal combination that does
wonders for your complexion. I find myself swearing at every vehicle that passes
for one reason or another. This motor tour is definitely wearing on me, and I am
ready for it to end.
I stop to take some notes. The crowd gathers and reads what I write over my
shoulder. A friendly offering of chai by one old man. An offering that can't be
refused. A glass pulled from week old dish water where a dead cockroach floats.
My mind cluttered with thoughts of which country next? An internal struggle to
form a game plan so as not to find me stuck in the middle of the monsoons. A
headache from all the squinting through the clouds and road aware thinking. All
of the sudden Bangalore is 100k closer, atleast according to the signs.
Exfoliated by an uncovered truck piled high with sand and another dripping of
acetone.
The final 40k and 4 lanes of freedom. Perhaps the only 4 lane road in all of
India, and so I weave from side to side out of pure enjoyment. A claimed 420k
trip, measured at 325k and taking 6 hours for an average speed of 54k/h and
costing a whopping 17l of petrol on this finely tuned machine.
A very satisfying Pizza Hut welcome to Bangalore. Bangalore - The silicone
valley of India and Asia's fastest growing city. A relatively rich city akin to
Bombay. Westernized middle class computer engineers with cellphone holsters
proudly on display by their side and cowboy hat police actually attempting to
keep law and order. Everyone snappy, self-righteous, and in a hurry. Watchout!
Waterproof and breathable, what a load of shit. They can't even get waterproof
right. A sudden downpour turned the 5k trip to the city market into a 4 hour
drenching trow through streets knee deep in water. Everything absolutely soaked.
Freezing and dripping, my high-tech rain gear failed to stop even a drop.
The first big shower of the year 'exposed the shoddy work of the Bangalore City
Corp.' as the Times of India so succinctly put it. A flood that reportedly
washed a 6 year old boy away and took out a few houses. Took refuge in a posh
and expensive 200r but clean and convenient hotel for the night. Room 14 on the
2nd floor which happens to be 3 floors up. Layed out everything in my pack. A
rain cover would be nice.
A late night walk through the markets for a good and cheap thali. 'You are
searching for a lifestyle, we are searching for food'. An insightful thought
that may be a bit hard to digest coming from the fat cellphone active
businessman who shared my table. Research on silk and back to bed.
May 18, 2002
Bangalore, India 18,175k
The comforts of luxury accomodation. News on TV and a complimentary copy of the
Times of India in english. A bit of a catchup on world affairs, or atleast local
affairs. The headlines read: The rain was bad, the new Star Wars movies was a
hit, tension with Pakistan is up (the general concensus being in support of a
decisive war), and a sex maniac was arrested in a barber shop and was found
wearing womens underwear. An offender who has successfully bribed his way out of
jail 6 times straight. Imagine that.
A brilliant street stall curry and puri breakfast. Continued market search for
silk. 4.5m of 80 weight and 4.5m of 60 weight for experiments on a sleeping bag
liner design I have been considering. Taken down to a tailor on MG road where I
was told I can find 'the best'.
MG Road - Mahatma Ghandhi Road and the epicenter of western life. Mc Donalds,
Circuit City, organized parking, flaunting fashion, overpriced. Actually not a
whole lot different then any western city street. Enfield shows off their new
350 Thunderbird. A japanese inspired redesign sure to crush 50 years of legacy.
Broke down on the internet and ordered a bunch of new photo gear including a new
Canon S200 digicam, the latest and greatest of course. A crappy and overpriced
dinner at the recommended 'Coconut Grove' and on to the Sreeraj Lassi Bar where
contrary to implications no mango lassi is served, only milkshakes with and
without ice cream. Down to the Guzzlers Inn, a hole in the wall bar serving up
38r beers and cranking to a diversified mix of Guns 'n Roses, Floyd, Brian
Adams, and of course the Hotel California. Local computer science kids in a
drunken daze and waving their heads around to the sounds. Slo-Mo cricket on the
tele.
'Anywhere I go... Where I lay my head is home.'
-Metallica
Celebrated the scene with a few MBA students, determined I should leave my bike
with them for safe keeping.
May 19, 2002
Bangalore, India
The eating of mangos has worked its way up to 10% of my total budget and it
shows. Upon close inspection in the mirror I see the effects of motorcycling all
day and the steady consumption of curries (oil and spice soup) and basmatis,
throw in a few butter naan. I am starting to gain the composure of a well to do
Indian, minus the obvious complexion difference. A symbol of status in this
otherwise 'starving country'. Infact if I were to post a classified alongside
the other 10,000 ads it would read:
'ALLIANCE for Brahman boy, fair skinned and rich (desireable traits)
w/ computer design work experience in the USA (a definate plus)
5'6" (a bit tall) 32 (a bit old) & speaking not a word of Hindi (odd).
Professionals need only apply (the standard closure).
Send biodata, horoscope, photo & caste.
Email: Gupta@GroovyDomain.com'
A typical and less then satisfying breakfast of different forms of chapati and
of course curry. The difficulty of tearing tortillas in half using only your
right hand and afterwards washing that hand with itself.
The shits return, or maybe that is just the smell in the air. Through the
ghettos of stink and filth. Passing tire and wine shops (incidentally selling
everything except wine) toward Lal Bagh, a supposedly beautiful park. I stop to
write. The usual crowd swells. The typical exchange. 'Hello, what you name?'
'Daryl' 'What you country?' 'America' This is when the hoopla usually begins,
emerging with something of the sort 'Malipurna gunigu chickanawara
fareshurewala... Bin Laden... chajunarama... ha-ha-ha' Nothing interesting ever
develops. It gets tiresome.
Lal Bagh Park - Pretty bare, a 49 hectacre garden of trash. Cheap paper mache
Snow White dwarf icons scattered about locals on family picnic. The 'aquarium',
a circle of a dozen 10g fresh water fish tanks full of gold fish and guppies and
the inevitable bubbling scuba diver, around a stale bathtub of algae. Suprising
for a country actually surrounded by such a diverse coastal life. The 'glass
house', a wire frame building without any glass. How clever.
Back to the city market for some beutiful portraits during sunset. Plans to head
to Nandi Hills tomorrow.
May 20, 2002
M > Nandi Hills, India 18,235k
English, the new sanskrit. Awoken to a tap on the door and an attempt at
'laundry'. The language for the upper caste, who seem offended if addressed in
Hindi.
Picked up the finished silk liners. A complete mess. The 4th try and I still
have yet to find a tailor in India that can sew a straight line. A good 2" small
in every dimension. Shoddy work and endless excuses at justification, same same
like the mechanics of this country. No one here really cares to do good work.
Quality doesn't exist. Better to wait for Nepal.
A look to see the Bangalore Palace on my way out of town. What was once a public
park is now private property and there is certainly no admittance through the
front gate. Luckily there is always a back door. Nothing special, don't bother.
On to the Nandi Hills hillstation, 65k North. A hill of ruthless and nasty mango
stealing monkeys. Also nothing special, don't bother.
Spent the night at the hilltop 'resort' in a room thick with the smell of urine,
fixing the infamous 'E18'. A procedure involving a complete breakdown and
rebuild of the camera. 100 micro screws and springs with a few spares in the
end. To my complete suprise it seems to work.
Brian's Journal
May 21, 2002
M > almost Mysore, India 18,310k
A late night of tedious work turned into a saga of runaways and robberies.
Strange dreams I have when I keep myself up too late. I don't think I want to
know what it all means.
I am addicted to mangos. Addmittance is the first step to recovery. So sweet,
delicious, and cheap I just can help myself. I am up to an average of 2kg per
day, that's about a dozen. In the process I have become an expert eater,
carefully cutting down each side of the seed, scoring the halves and inverting
them to open them like flowers. A technique that avoids the beginners dribbling
mess and sticky face and fingers. An essential skill for travel through the
tropics.
A final scouting around the hill to assure myself I really haven't missed
anything before leaving. A plague of Indian tourists infects the scene, swinging
from the trees, scaring the real monkeys into hiding, and looking for that
perfect shot. Not much different from the Japanese except instead of taking
pictures of absolutely everything, they only take pictures of themselves. A nice
view down onto the valley obscured by haze. A few nice flowers hiding behind
a lot of trash. Not much to see here.
Lunch - Typical Thali - 5 separate dishes of: sliced red onions with lime, curd,
basmati rice, vegetable curry, and a suprise curry. The proper method of eating
involves dumping everything into a pile, mixing it into a souplike mess by hand
(the right hand), hunch down low and using the same hand slop it into your
mouth. Sometimes chapati or naan (a tortilla like bread) is employed as a
vehicle/sponge. The result, a pile of 6 stainless steel plates and bowls, 5
spoons, and a fork, all of which are never used and therefore never washed..
On to Mysore. A stop for some quick and easy shifter and clutch adjustments and
back on the road. 10 minutes later, another stop for some quick and easy shifter
and clutch adjustments. 10 minutes later... out of gas. A helpful local offers a
lift to the nearest service station. A handful more breakdowns along the way, a
never ending string of issues. A planned 4 hour ride that seems to take and
actually does take forever. The sun sets and I pull off the road into a
pleasantly deserted field and setup camp.
A night that also seemed forever. A cool breeze, too much for my silk sac but
not enough for my sleeping bag. A relapse of my infected toe, causing a bad
headache and slight fever and keeping me up the whole night through. I sure
could use a bit of Neosporin and a dose of Advil.
May 22, 2002
M > Mysore, India 18,448k
Gas 15.5l @ 480r
Downed a handful of Advil at sunrise and carried on. A cool nice, and easy
morning drive the last hour into Mysore. Before the bulk of the bastardly trucks
hit the asphalt. Before the heat of the blazing sun hits the asphalt. A good
time to travel were I not so lazy.
Checked into the first hotel I could find and just as the Advil started to kick
in, crashed for a quality 4 hours of sleep. Persistent phone calls from the
front desk and shouts from my door requesting me to move my bike, ignored. Sick
and tired I just 'can't be asked'.
Out on the streets midday for a look see. In a sweaty hot slumbering daze I
can't seem to tell much difference between the cities. Busy congested streets
too dangerous to cross in my condition. Streetside stalls pushing saree silks,
assorted hardware, useless trinkets, coconuts. People and things that look
almost like people badgering about. Maybe this city is a bit more open feeling,
maybe not.
My attitude is sour and i'm not feeling so good. Amazing how the smallest cut
left untreated can really bring you down. My stomach begins to turn, adding to
the problem. I struggle my way to the drug store and to my suprise, Neosporin,
the real thing. How lucky I feel. I cut the festering mess off my foot and wrap
it up. More Advil, more sleep.
Feeling slightly better and determined to make something of an otherwise
hopeless day I moto my way to the 'must see' nearby Chamundi Hill. On the way
up, some nice views out and over the Mysore valley. At the top, a really bad
'Godly Museum'. One room full of gaudy and in-your-face religeous propaganda. A
rash of souvenir shops selling illuminated plastic Taj Mahals. An amusement park
lineup to enter a typically visually impressive on the outside / lame on the
inside temple. More cracked coconuts.
Stopped at what appeared a carnival on the way back to town and sidetracked at
the gate by a friendly family of Indian tourists from Bangalore on their way out
who had an easy time convincing me that a trip to the Pizza Corner was a better
idea. Absolutely awful pizza, maybe it wasn't.
May 23, 2002
Mysore, India
A very hot day, one of the hottest on record.
A trip to the zoo in the morning. Waved down by a tuk tuk on the way. Ignorant
of the fact that I am riding a motorbike, he asks if I need a ride. Sadly turned
down, he asks where I am going. 'The zoo' 'Zoo closed today' To test his
integrity I follow up with. 'Anyway, how do I get there' And with that he points
in the opposite direction to the way I already know it is. A lier as expected. I
continue on and eventually get to the zoo and of course it is open. The main
attraction (besides me), Tigers and elephants. A nice zoo by Indian standards.
A trip to the palace in the afternoon. 'No cameras allowed'. An attempt by the
ticket man to secretly shy me on 5 ruppies, business as usual. 'No shoes
allowed'. 10,000 barefoot Indians shuffle their way through, just imagine all
the fungus and smell. A staley home of a still present but powerless Maharaja.
Rooms full of gaudy colors and gold. Worth a visit just don't take a picture of
the pretentiously friendly front gate guards in their silly uniforms or they
will follow you around all day asking for money.
Tired from a full day of sites I back to the hotel for the clincher site of
all... Natasha shows. An evil eye peering down from the room balcony to me. A
haunting apparition perhaps? Checking into the same hotel is not enough, she's
my neighbor. How could this be true? I pretend it to be a pleasant suprise and
regardless of my inner angst I keep a friendly face. Hair bright red from
repeated henna treatments. Dressed like an indian and starting to look sickly
thin. Loopie woes of digestion problems and armed with a new bundle of ayurvedic
potions to cure. Persistent claims that the detox was a success, I doubt it. We
catch up on story.
To add to the dillemma the hotel once again raises a stink over moving my bike,
this time adding another cause or two. An amazingly persistent and annoying
little jackass at the front desk. Until now it was such a nice day.
I retreat to my room and lock the door. Against all odds a restful night.
May 24, 2002
M > Bangalore, India 18,560k
Gas 7.5l @ 227r
A final brew-ha with the hotel staff over money stolen from my room during
checkout.
Repeated attempts with Tash to resolve our differences over lunch with her and
her new friend Rob of England. Tash eats her crutch dish of egg curry, white
rice, and chai and carries the unwavering opinion that under all the chaos and
rubble India has got something going for it, pointing to the whiteness of her
egg yolk as an example of 'not so processed and more natural'. I hate to rain on
her party, but that is a sign of an unhealthy chicken. Rob counters that what
India really needs are some good strip clubs. And follows up by warning me that
Oodi (my next planned stop) is 'cowshit and indian tourists'. 'It's no good...
South India isn't all it is cracked up to be.' In some way he reminds me a lot of
Brian, only quite a bit cruder. Based on my previous experiences I take this as
good advice and change my plans to return to Delhi and reserve a week on my visa
for a bit of relaxing up North. Plans to reserve my train ticket today.
Back at the hotel, Tash's moto is impounded. The hotel's response to our
aggrivations over parking and just about anything else. Once again in need of
professional help I am enlisted to join her down to the station. With great
dexterity I pull out the 'late for a train' excuse and manage to coax the bike
back and pay nothing, waxing their bride hands with a handwritten letter by Tash
apologizing for being such a 'bad girl'. Again she is eternally greatful.
Down to the train station to book my Delhi ticket. An easy reservation for this
2 day trip leaving Bangalore tomorrow at 6pm, I must go. A quick goodbye and off
I go.
Instead of sending doctors to countries like this, we ought to be sending
mechanics. A grueling and face munging marathon journey through thick clouds of
black piston ring smoke all the way back to Bangalore. A dozen or so near
misses. Entering the city I realize just how much I love fly-overs and hate one
way roads.
Check back into the Chandra Vihar city market luxury suite. A final night on MG
Road, this time happening into one of the best restaurants of my trip, a place
surely not listed in 'the book'.
May 25, 2002
Day 1
T > Delhi, India
Ah, back to reading the morning paper. The simple pleasures in life. The UN
condemns Pakistan for terrorism (finally the obvious comes out). India is giddy
with delight (finally the world agrees with them).
Tash and Rob arrive early to see me off. We grab lunch and finally we say our
goodbyes for once and for all. Sometimes it feels good to say goodbye.
A final stop at the silk shop to procure my 'big order' for my 'new idea'. Off
to the ATM to stock up on cash in a classic scene. Riding wild through the busy
strets of Bangalore in the pouring rain on the back of a belching scooter and
driven by a man with one eye. Loaded 'the goods' (50m of 40g/m super-twist
chinese silk) into my pack and followed my now happy silk shop escort to the
train station for help loading the bike. The luggage office wants 1400r, the
parcel office want 1040r, another 50r and the bike becomes a parcel, wrapped up
in burlap bags and addressed like a letter.
The train moves forward, 42 hours to Delhi. Friendly neighbors. Rickedy night.
May 26, 2002
Day 2
T > Delhi, India
The upper bunk is surely the best choice. By daybreak my lower bunk is being
compromised by ticketless short-haulers looking for a seat. Unfortunately since
the mid bunk is occupied by an old lady still fast asleep I have no option but
to take a walk.
The scenery hasn't changed a bit. Flat and desolate dried grasslands broken only
by the occasional thorn tree and partitioned off by farmers working from grass
huts every 500m. Not a whole lot going on in the middle of the country. I am
glad I didn't follow Brian's lead and motor it.
On to the canteen for lunch. A half hollowed out passenger car where worker kids
peel potatoes and chop onions in the seats and on the floor. A proud 'chef
manager' who sold me on the fresh chicken biryani, a dish that looked and
smelled a lot better being prepared then actually tasted, but not bad for 38r. A
limited chit chat with the 'electrical engineer', a kind old muslim man
persistent in showing me how the lights and fans work. Tough job I guess.
A long ride with no one real to talk to.
May 27, 2002
Delhi, India
Finally made it, the last 2 hour being the worst. A hot and sweaty welcome back
to Delhi. 50r went a long way in helping me unload my bike from the parcel coach
5' off the ground. The damage, a broken clutch lever and an assortment of new
scratches. Straight to Ringo in a tired daze, dangerously trying to hold
together the clutch with one hand while weaving through the commotion with the
other.
Brian lives! An unexpected meeting as his plans to leave yesterday were delayed.
Immediately my plans for a long nap changed into a celebratory feast at none
other then Pizza Hut. Loads of catching up. He got some really great photos,
convinced me to develop a roll. An ending appropriately parallel to the
beginning. An excellent reunion.
The critical question arises. Where to go next? A bit of online research...
Macau - Typhoons
Thailand - Hot & Raining
Vietnam - Hot & Raining
Laos - Hot & Raining
China - Hot & Raining, been there but missed the south...
Nepal - Hot, Cloudy, & Ready to Rain, been there but missed trekking...
Tibet - Light Rain, been there but maybe...
Europe - Perfect Weather, a long expensive flight...
May 28, 2002
Delhi, India
An early breakfast at the local German Bakery and guess who I run into? None
other then Anja, the German girl from Dharamsala, how appropo. So how was
Dharamsala? She studdied Buddism for 10 days, met the Dalai Llama and really
likes him 'he's got a really great energy', and otherwise spent the past 3
months in the same place 'just relaxing'. Returned to Delhi just yesterday to
meet up with her boyfriend arriving tonight and then it is off to Shimla for a
few weeks of Euro shopping before returning home. That is unless the border
conflicts with Pakistan escalate into Nuclear War, which is now the concern. She
is really worried. Typically uneducated talks about the conflicts and Islam in
general. Plans to meet up again tomorrow for breakfast.
The silk dyers compete. Quotes from 20r/m down to 8r/m all of course claiming top
quality. I distribute samples for testing. The slides developed nicely and I
submit 15 more rolls. Take the Enfield down to Karol Barg to negotiate a sale.
The seik man offers a humourous 16,000r. I decide to hold off until Pinky
returns tomorrow.
Pizza Hut, of course. Brian returns to the UK tomorrow. The final chess score
(USA 18, Scotland 9).
May 29, 2002
Delhi, India
A half hour late and instantly apologizing to me that her 'boyfriend stayed up
talking all night and wouldn't make it till 11'. A touch back on Germans and
punctuality. Another lively conversation about Asian politics, a topic none of
us really knows anything about. The German Embassy is requesting all Germans to
leave India at once. Anja is ready to go. The American Embassy is also issuing
the same request. Mom is starting to pester.
Decided on the silk. Excellent results from Delhi Photo. Back to Karol Barg for
the final negotiations. Still no Pinky. Probably hiding from me, the bastard. No
deal.
Happened across a couple, Shy of Israel and Jana of Czech in the market and
looking for a deal. I offer mine for a 1 week no conditions trial with an
expected sale of 24,000. Turn over the keys in good faith and form 'the
contract' over dinner. A deal that had me miss seeing Brian off. Good luck my
friend.
May 30, 2002
Delhi, India
Picked up the silk, midnight black looks good. More online travel research has
me focused on Tibet. A rapid onset aching / fever / cough / headache finds me
sitting in front of the doctors office downing Vitamin C (on the advice of a
hippie chick) alone for an hour waiting for the doctor to make his 5pm
'appearance'. Eventually a crowd gathers, the doctor wakes me, and slides the
gate open. I shuffle in and take my seat behind the crowd. The doctor finds a
chest infection (has happened to me everytime I have visited Delhi) and
prescribed 2 days of drugs in a we'll see fashion.
Now...
1 big pill + 2 medium tablets + 1 small pill + red syrup
then if at midnight I still have a fever...
1 big pill + 1 small pill + red syrup
and tomorrow morning...
1 big pill + 2 medium tablets + 1 small pill + red syrup
and return
What is the medicine? Good question, one that the doctor got mad at me for
asking, walking dangerously close to the 'don't question me, i'm the doctor'
line. In no mood to argue I cough up the astronomical 30r charge and go. I stop
at the nearest pharmacist and offer the stash for comment. The best description
I got was: big is pain killer, medium is Ciprofloxacin, small is a
'Chlorofamiliate' (malaria?), red is cough syrup.
Indians can certainly be annoying characters but when you arestrung out and sick
and in no mood it transcends into a deeper level. Searching the markets for
bananas to take with the medicine, about the only thing I can stomach. A short
grubby man approaches me about hash and unsatisfied by my aggrivated 'chale jao'
continues to follow me around prescribing me with a 'big lassi' to cure
everything and determined that finding bananas was his idea. And assuring me how
lucky I must be to have such a health specialist in times of need like this.
Realizing this wasn't enough to earn him a ruppie he began pushing the 'no home,
lots of kids, how poor' story. On and on... if I were any stronger I woulda
surely kicked his ass.
Back at the hotel, Ringo prides himself on sending me to a 'good doctor' instead
of a 'cheater man'. The remains of the day spent in bed with a building fever
and headache strong enough to have me convinced that it must be malaria. A
sleepless night of pain and worry.
May 31, 2002
Delhi, India
'cough...cough...cough'. Moments pass...
'cough...cough...cough'. Moments pass...
'cough...cough...cough'. Awoken to the sounds of a persistant cough pacing back
and forth infront of my room. I look out to find the hotel cleaner boy stationed
on my floor hacking and throwing flem in a uniform fashion on absolutely
everything he touches. Takes a break to pull out an identical bottle of the red
syrup and continues to dribble it all down the front of his shirt. 'JESUS
CHRIST!' no wonder I am always sick here. I march my way down the stairs to
express my dissapproval to the manager and before I can say a word he starts
coughing on me. 'DAMMIT!' this place is a hospital. I explain my frustration and
he laughs me off. I give up. The only way I will ever get better is if I leave
this festering disease hole and head for the hills.
Make my way back to the doctor. A bigger scene, 50 locals in line. Eventually he
gets to me, talks at me for 1 minute, repeats the same prescription with the
addition of another tiny red pill and sends me on my way for 40r. On my way out
I peer over his shoulder at the register he hunches over. I win! Taking easy 1st
place for most fees paid this week. A great lead infront of the 2nd place of
15r. I thank god he isn't a cheater man after all.
The Life of an Indian Cheater Man
Ignore / aggrivate where appropriate but always lie to and cheat during the 4 hours you are awake from 10 to 2.
Take your newly found ruppies to a local eatery for some dal fry and chapati.
A 3 hour nap in the afternoon.
Slowly make your way back to your place of business and continue cheating until 8.
Repeat the same thing tomorrow.
Spent the entire day in a heavy sick sweat designing the pattern for my Silk
Sac, an advanced mummy profile sleeping bag liner. The lightest and I dare say
most sensible in the world. Negotiated a sample order with the only tailor I
have found that can sew a semi-straight line and gives a damn, a rare commodity
here.
Mom's Travel Plans
June 1, 2002
Delhi, India
From my bed all I hear is a faint and periodic ticking of the ceiling fan, a
relentlerss cricket living somewhere inside the door, the over-amplified TV of
my neighbor, and people hacking and spitting. A final day of recovery before
moving on. Tomorrow, North to Shimla.
June 2, 2002
T > Shimla, India
The early morning train to Kalkan enroute to Shimla. A crowded 5 hours ride in a
7person per 2nd class seat. Couples with 6 kids. Here it is honorable to marry
young and populate the world to your best ability. A country with obvious
population problems.
Frisked by the police with lead pipe guns. Crying children quickly turn to
sleep. One old man savours his smoke and clears his lungs to the floor. A
constant fight to keep my seat.
I pay the 200r and upgrade to 1st class on the toy train to Shimla. 7 hours
winding through the foothills of the Himilayas. The scenery builds its way into
a beauty much like that of Nepal. The toylike scale of the train and the shrills
of excitement from the children through every one of the hundred some odd
tunnels along the way turn the trip into a never ending Willy Wonka thrill ride,
only quite a bit slower and without the psychadelics. The 1st chill bites me
since Dharamsala 3 months ago. It feels good.
We arrive 2 hours late. Out of the train and instantly hawked. A grubby Kashmiri
porter cum leech attaches himself to me, following me around and claiming there
to be no place to stay for under 500r. Doing his best to convince me I oughta
follow him to a hotel because he is a special person and can arrange a discount
for me, not to mention a commission. I attempt to ditch him by ducking into a
high class restaurant for dinner. Through the window I see him waiting outside.
Using the technique of repeated insults I manage to shake him.
After dark the temperature sharply drops to near freezing and I dawn everything
in my pack to stay warm. I find myself a room at the Fountaine Bleu for 150r. An
English house built in 1933 and turned over by the government to a Pakistani
refuge (a kind old lady fiercely proud of Gandhi), her yo-yo daughter (the most
carefully articulate and dippy lady I ever met), and her 4 most precious and
loud poodles. The strangest conversation setting I have ever faced. In a
desparate retreat from too much conversation I lock myself in my room. A smelly
musty place with a haunted feel. Together with the company it all puts me in
fear. Feeling like that man in the movie who is locked up in the house with the
psycho lady. A scene you are best off avoiding. Atleast tonight I get to use the
sleeping bag I been carrying around all this time. I gotta get outta here
tomorrow, if I can.
June 3, 2002
B > Manali, India
Shimla - Quaint British garrison meets India monster. What was at one time a
lovely hillstation away from the hectic is today a polluted and packed mess. A
small Delhi hanging from the side of a mountain and costing 5 times as much.
Rampant construction, frantic belching diesels, blaring horns, and Indian
tourist commotion. It is dissappointing to see how the Indians so completely,
mindlessly, and perfectly destroy everything they touch.
Determined to make the most of it and see everything I can before leaving I take
an afternoon '8 points' tour with driver Sharma. A fierce mountain road driving
competition ensues, complete with constant horn blasting for no apparent reason
along with some really bad Hindi pop to fill the spaces inbetween. Couldn't
imagine a better compliment to an otherwise peaceful mountain and a worse way to
spend a day. A handful of dissappointing sites alongside thruongs of Indian
tourists which judging by their choice of Kodak moments have no concept of
natural beauty..
The night bus to Manali - A 1 1/2 seat man with intense BO compresses me into
the remaining 1/2 seat. A baby screaming at my back and a race car driver
content to rev the engine at every chance and fill the cabin with music all
night. The bus jars violently from left to right. I look out the window to try
and make sense of it all and am scared into a deep sleep.
June 4, 2002
Manali, India
The sun rises over a beautiful valley somewhere deep within the Himilayas. A
river flows swifty. The ride is over. A 16 hour trip turned 10.
Off the bus I join an Israeli girl in a tuk tuk to the old town and check into
the Dragon Gusthouse, 50r. A quaint place serving up a delicious breakfast of
mixed fresh fruit lassi and banana chocolate pancakes (this time with egg). A
true hot shower, seemingly for the first time in ages. A peaceful rest. Finally
on my way to recovery.
Out for a look see. An Enfield rally perhaps? Each year hundreds of Israeli
descend on Manali by bike to do what they do best, flaunt and rave. Rumours of
an 'epic' all night party off in the hills spreads, I dare go see.
A beautiful hike along a dirt trail into the heart of the mountainsmeeting one
after another along side hired porters lugging heavy hi-fi equipment back to
town. Each one throwing in a 'You missed it man' or 'Parties over' or 'Where are
you going?' Regardless I carry on because it is a nice day and a nice hike.
Light showers complete the scene. A really nice day.
Back at the hotel the parties continue on. A night of trying to sleep through
Hebrew drunken sing-along and the endless thump of mind-numbing techno.
June 5, 2002
Manali, India
A walk to the nearby town of Vishisht turns into a voyage to Rotang Pass at
14,000'. Ran into Israeli girl #2 enroute and together we hitched with 3 locals
on tour from Chandigar. More crazy driving and loud Hindi hip hop.
A brutal storm of ice and heavy rain on top. A ground of mud and snow. Posing in
skis for a photo. Freezing cold and unprepared as expected. Refuge in tarpauline
covered tea shacks. A beautiful rainbow on the way back down.
A stop in Vishisht for a bath along with 100 naked Indians in the 'hot springs'
(closer to a smelly bathtub of questionable safety). A rooftop dinner of Israeli
favorites followed by a long ride home in a tuk tuk over a one way bridge going
the other way. Israeli girl #1 left for home due to the heightened nuclear
scare. More rave.
June 6, 2002
Manali, India
If you visit Manali (which I recommend) be sure not to miss the Mount View
Restaurant on the main drag in the new town. Excellent Chinese food, a welcome
break from dal bhat. A bit of shopping and a bit more rest. So far 4 days of
beautiful weather. Blue skies with small happy clouds hovering over snow capped
deodara dense mountains. Fresh air and low pressure.
June 7, 2002
B > Delhi, India
Overnight to Delhi, the bus from hell. 2 hours late, overbooked, and a constant
fight for a seat. No sleep.
June 8, 2002
Delhi, India
As usual dropped off miles from anywhere. The local bus to the main bazaar and
back to Ringo for loss of the motivation to go anywhere else. No sign of Shy or
my moto, I begin to question their integrity. A very hot and sweaty day. The
cough returns.
June 9, 2002
T > Varanasi, India
Picked up the finished Silk Sacs. Reasonable workmanship, but next time the job
goes to my friend in Nepal.
Still no sign of my moto, atleast an email gives the excuse of sickness and
excuse I can understand. Unfortunately I can wait no longerand must trust him to
take care of putting the bike into storage for me. A friend of a friend living
in Delhi offers to store it indefinitely. A lofty promise I hope is kept.
An overcrowded train to Varanasi. 8 seats for every 18 people, which is alright
if it is family as everyone accomodates to comfortably fit but when it is an
outsider suddenly the biggest bench seats one. 14 hours laying in a pile on the
floor between cars, kicked and stepped on by the occasional chai man and plastic
gun lady. A dreadful ride where everyone fixes 'the eye' on me like I am the
cause of the problems. I may be the only one on this train with a ticket.
June 10, 2002
Varanasi, India
Varanasi - The oldest and holiest city in India, some say the world. A tangle of
narrow chaotic back alleys all in one way or another leading to the Ganges. One
of the Hindi most sacred waters. Lined with ghats (steps down to the river's
edge) where you see on old lady washing her clothes, a young boy taking a shit,
a leper scrubbing scabs, and another brushing his teeth. One of the dirtiest
rivers in the world and according to 'the book' unsafe to even touch. Famous for
the burning ghats where it is believed that the only way to avoid the nasty
cycle of rebirth is to be burned to death and tossed to sea.
Spent the day recovering from the train ride in bed and meandering down by the
river as all tourists do. Heavy rains end the day early. Plans to get up early
tomorrow and take another pass before heading North to the border town of
Sunauli.
Wiggins On The Road Again
June 11, 2002
B > Sunauli, India
Up early and back down to the ghats for my 'free boat ride' (a ride costing 10r)
and my last good shot of India before leaving. A lanky middle aged man paddles
me along. Sunrise and a stream of 35mm tourists pass each other in opposite
directions trying to capture the spirit of 2 dogs tugging on ends of a piece of
charred human intestine in front of a Sadu in deep meditation. An amazing blend
of life and death, inseperable. A child swims by in an innertube.
I finally give up. 4 months through India and I can honestly say I ain't
impressed. Disgusted and beaten tired is more appropriate. I mean where would
the country be without air horns, cow shit, and gaudy displays of red and green
flashing LEDs? And would any of these Hindu hugger type tourists visit if there
were no drugs? The answers are 'nowhere' and 'I doubt it' and I have spent
enough time here to verify these claims.
With my final 150r in pocket I make a run for the border. The 8am government bus
to Sunauli, the border town with Nepal. 300k of straight flat, and decently
paved 2 lanes undivided. An easy 2.5 hour trip by 1st world standards, 10 hours
by Indian standards, and 13 by this slow poke driver. Cruising along at an
average speed of 23k/h, just a notch faster then the average bicycle (not
suprisingly I saw a few pass). One of the most senselessly slowest busses I have
ever been on. I must admit, this is the only bus in India I have felt safe on,
were it not for the other vehicles whizzing by at breakneck speed.
A day of uncomfortable and rickety plastic bench deat sweat, left with 10r to
fast away on a bottle of water negotiated through plea down from 15r. A bit past
9pm and the bus finally drifts into town.
Sunauli - The same raukus border town as before, only darker. Regardless of the
hour the tormenting begins. Ruppie-less and in search of a place to lay and
followed about by a pestering rickshaw driver. A spastic 'chale jao!' had him in
shock but wasn't enough to sway him. My only escape, a quick dodge into an unlit
dirt road alley followed by a series of stealth maneuvers.
June 12, 2002
B > Kathmandu, Nepal
Awoke to the gathering of curious locals outside my tent. Camped in a remote
field along the border for lack of funds. Packed up under close supervisionand
quickly abandoned. Goodbye India!
Nepal
VISA
$30 = 60d SE (1st time w/i year)
$55 = 30s SE (subsequently w/i year)
At Border
ECONOMY
78.0 Ruppies = $1
Diem = 500r Food = 35-200r Room = 150-250r
NOTES
The thing to do is trekking and it is amazing.
The people are nice and relatively keep to themselves, except for the Indians.
The food is Dhal Bhat (Rice & Lentil), but Kathmandu got everything.
Public transportation is cheap, crappy, and life threatening.
A better alternative is to rent a motorcycle for 200r/day.
The mecca of reasonable quality and amazingly cheap handicraft shopping.
If the person doesn't shy away from a photo, beware they probably want money.
Excellent landscapes and sights photos.
Buy most of your gear when you get there, including backpack.
Bring a quality 24-135mm lens.
Buy your film and filters here, they are super cheap and good.
Bring a free standing squeeter net.
No need for sneakers, Tevas will do.
Carefully cut my 1st entry Nepal visa from my passport in attempt to avoid the
costly $50 2nd entry visa fees and found myself in a bind at the border. Caught
by a careful inspector keen on questioning of the missing page numbers. Damn
American passports. Taunted by the prospects of 'illegal activity' and
determined to collect a sizeable 'fee'. Threats of jail met by a carefully
negotiated bribe of $40, fitting easily in the front pocket and undercutting the
true visa price for a savings of $10. Both parties couldn't have been happier
with the compromise. Once again, welcome to Nepal for the 1st time. 'And get
that fixed in Kathmandu'. 'Of course'.
Hitched on a rickshaw down the long gravel road to the bus station with a host
overly zealous about practicing English poetry.
The Rickshaw Poet
Life is like a cup of tea
Together we drink mightly
Finally we reach the bridge
Atleast that is what I thought he said. Don't ask what it means. Thankfully the
gravel road isn't too long.
Changed $20 at the extortional and unavoidable rate of 76.4 and with half of
this horrid journey behind me settled onto the bus to Kathmandu ending my fast
with a boiled egg, a few stale biscuits and a mango frutti. Gazing out the
window to find heavy clouds descending over the valley and at the same time I
feel the weight of my experiences in India lift from my shoulders. The
opportunity to relax. Friendlier people (a relative effect as this was not my
impression last time), much less furious and in-your-face. A richer more diverse
landscape providing a visual treat of constant change. Water buffalo replace the
cows. Lush green rolling hills replace the stale dry plains. Whiskey, mango
juice, and condom ads replace that of underwear, cement, and motor oil. Asia
starts to creep in. You can see it in the faces.
2 debusing and vehicle checkpoints - The maoist threat still exists but this
time they seem to have a better handle on it. A more orderly and efficient
procedure then last time, allowing foreigners to remain on the bus while the
locals quickly skirt through a screening. 10 minutes and we are back on the
road.
The bus hugs the banks of the Trisuli, beginning an emerald green in Tibet and
ending a dark mud in India. Along this rocky shoreline there is big business in
the crushing of rock. By hammer and hand and for only 50r a day. Nepal - one of
the poorest countries in the world. Climbing the final mountain to the KMD
valley broken down TATA remind me of what I am leaving behind, a big loud and
dirty monster. I look back and smile.
Over the pass and the mountain opens to reveal my final destination, Kathmandu.
Kathmandu - The same tourist haven as before, this time without the tourists.
The low season of the low year. Off the bus I work my way through the empty
streets by whispers of 'pot... hash...' and check into the Mount Holiday, 150r.
My body has been craving something for months and I think it has something to do
with beef. Immediately redirected to the Everest Steak House. Cravings satisfied
with a gorgeous 16 oz. of fine Filet Mignon and chip all for under $3 and down
in under 5. Sure to feel this tomorrow.
Tim's Jumbo From Africa
June 13, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A bit of shopping (because that is what you doo in Kathmandu). A couple Thankas
strike my eye, intricate Tibetan buddhist monk paintings. The failed search for
the Tiger Balm man, friend from my last visit. A nice stroll through Durbarg
Square, much nicer without the crowds. Back to the steak house for another fix.
The brown sauce steak, excellent.
June 14, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A diet of steak and mangos and the shits return. Extremely common in Nepal and
most likely from the expired coconut cookies and lassi soda dated 2000 that I
had on the bus here. Or maybe the hole in the wall dal bhat of yesterday. During
these low seasons in tourist countries like this things are often left to rot.
You got to be careful here, even more so then India.
Up with grand ambitions of a hot shower, not so. Plumbing in my opinion is one
of Nepals biggest problems. A country with loads of water but no one smart or
sensible enough to make it work. The bathroom - a dozen bare pipes and a half
dozen mislabelled knobs. Turn a knob, it falls off, and then you got a real
mess. Heated by the sun it is never hot when you most want it, like in the
morning on a cold and cloudy day like today. Excuses fly, of course electricity
is expensive. The lobby TV is left on and nobody watches it.
A bit of forced research by the hotel staff on organizing a 21 day Annapurna
Round trek and my onward voyage to Tibet. An organization that I have no
interest in but offers some useful information if I act interested. APR - $400
21 day all inclusive. TIBET - $150 5 day bus to Lhasa, permit inclusive.
Welcome back to KMD I visit my friend Vishnu the small shop owner and tailor I
had arranged some work with in the past. Business is slow and he is
overwhelmingly happy to see me. The discussions to produce a line of
GroovyGear
begins. Sweaters and jackets the 1st products. Talk of an order big enough to
make him giddy with excitement.
Another day, another steak. The cowboy steak. Ok, but they still haven't gotten
the rare, medium, well thing down yet. Starting to suspect the real cause of my
sickness.
June 15, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
Up and out for breakfast and an early start on the day, a long day of work
ahead. 'hash...' a voice from behind. Something familiar in that voice. I turn
to look. A hubbled and sorry figure looks toward the ground and follows me
along. The Tiger! A quick 'remember me' and skipping the astonishment he smiles
and breaks right into his 'child needs school clothes, not a ruppie' story. We
go for tea, he brings his child along and proudly displays the jacket I gave him
months ago. Apparently he couldn't find anyone to sell it to to support his
alcholoc addiction, or maybe he didn't try. Either way it makes me happy to see
Tiger and his jacket. Fed the kid, filled the Tiger with moonshine and back to
the markets for a long day of negotiations.
Deep talks about recent maoist conditions over an amazing fillet shashlik.
June 16, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
Continued work on
GroovyGear
, adding the convertible concept. Tiger hopingly followed me around, suprisingly
sober and throwing in a dose of good humor every now and then. Took the large
Thanka back for a traditional silk mounting.
Dinner with Vishnu, my new 'business partner'. Being a devout Hindi Brahman, I
decided it best to avoid steak tonight. Talks about future sponsorship and the
possibility of opening a street-side store if I ever make it back to the states.
June 17, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A sunny day.
Studies of the woolover yak wool shell material indicate 10% shrinkage in
length. To guarantee best fit Vishnu and I spent the entire day pre-shrinking
the fabricwhile watching the USA beat Mexico in World Cup Football. A stunning
victory that I didn't quite witness as his TV decided to quit during the last 10
minutes. Long discussions on my expectations of quality.
June 18, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
Picked up the finished Thanka, beautiful. Dropped off my passport at the Chinese
Embassy for a 90-day visa, to take 10 'working days' to process. Finalized the
design for the Groovy Woolover with the tailor, a 25 years master that does
excellent and careful work. Sat down with the village ladyto finalize the yak
wool sweater designs. Promised Tiger I would motor around with him as my 'guide'
today and so I picked up the Yamaha and off we went.
A sunny day on the moto, down to the ACAP office to pick up the trekking permit,
2000r. Plans to start the 21 day Annapurna Round trek tomorrow on my own. No
guide, no porter. Just me and mother nature, a welcome respite from all the hard
work of the past week. Picked out a 35l daypack and packed everything I think I
will need into it.
Annapurna Round Pack List
Sleeping bag, Thermarest, Groundsheet, Silk Sac
Sneakers, Tevas
Prototype Convertibles, T-Shirt
Rain Shell and Fleece Jacket & Hat
Both Cameras, 5 Film, 4 Batteries
Soap, Shampoo, Toothbrush & Powder
Prototype Silk Safe, Maps, Food
June 19, 2002
B > Besisahar, Nepal
An early morning taxi to the bus station to catch the only 6:30 bus to
Besisahar, the trail head for my trek. 8 hours of mountain road twisting through
the heart of the lush Himilayan foothills. My little boy neighbor pushes over
and consumes my entire seat. The best seat on the bus, right side window.
The bushman, the buffalo herders, the fred flintstones, the showering ladies.
All the characters I left behind months ago, still here and hard at work turning
this country into the dynamic place it is. The driver, a true horn patriot,
aggrivating harder and pushing on more rambunctiously everytime we stop to clear
an accident. Obviously safety is not his goal.
A 12 o'clock lunch break and we descend on the dal bhat like ravenous
scavengers. Heaps of rice, lentils, alu (potatoes), and kokra masu (chicken)
dissappear within minutes. Back aboard the bus with a tag along bajuki player
repeating the same 4 bars over and over, and off we go. A relatively painless 8
hours, as bus rides go.
Besisahar - A one road tourist town existing only for the trek, terminating at
the trail head, and today containing only one tourist me. 1 of 5 to sign the
entry register, I don't expect to see many others over the next 3 weeks. A
desparate hotel tout guides me through town to his hotel and I negotiate down
from 150r to 50r before starting to feel sorry for the guy and giving in. A
crappy vegetable curry and back through town to fill up on supplies. A bag of
cereal, dried milk, a couple dozen biscuits, a bottle of Tang, Iodine for the
water, and a few emergency antibiotics. At sunset it begins to pour and I add an
umbrella, worried about the weather prospects, my biggest concern of the trek.
Back to the room to plan.
Tomorrow I wake early for my first day 6h to Bahundanda according to the map. My
budget, 500r/d. I stuff 10,000r into my pocket and turn out the lights.
June 20, 2002
21-Day Annapurna Round Trek
Day 1
H > Bahundandra, Nepal 1310m 100f 7:30 / 6h-1h 220r
A moderate climb
A hot and humid 100. Mostly cloudy and pleasantly so. 6 hours on trail. 5 hours
hiking and 1 hour resting beneath a beautiful waterfall, 1000 'Namaste's' and
butterflies. A trail mostly washed out and muddy but despite numerous warnings
and attempts at tobacco sales, not a single leech. The land of 'photo, give
money' despite the make money attitude I still managed a few kodak moments.
A tough final hour climb in light rain to Bahundandra, a village of a half dozen
guest houses and another half dozen shacks housing the people that run the guest
houses. A excellent view looking back. Up to the very top of the hill to the
desparately empty Hotel Superb View, where the best view might be in room #18.
Walls plastered with the swimsuit issue. An easy negotiation of 20r including
the assumption of an overpriced dinner.
To take it easy and rest on this first grueling day. A slight ache in my right
arch. A hot shower goes a long way. A very welcome dinner. A fixed menu offering
Chicken Momo, Ramen Vegetable Soup, and Mint and Milk Chai for 200r,
outrageously expensive by Nepal standards. Planned to make up for a room which
is outrageously cheap by Nepal standards. Down to the schoolyard to watch the
local football rawl and sideline children piping away on their homemade flutes,
considered fashionable this year.
Tomorrow Chamje.
June 21, 2002
Day 2
H > Chamje, Nepal 1430m 100f 7:00 / 7h-2h 250r
A difficult climb
Heavy rain through the night comforts me in my warm and dry bed, now satisfied
that I left the tent behind. An absolutely beautiful clearing in the morning
peaks through the clouds. Spider webs cover the windows.
Out by 7 and today not so lucky to have cloud cover. Blastingly direct sun. The
trail is no longer washed out. 2 hours of easy downhill and a very tough 3 hours
back up. Add 2 hours rest along the way and you have a long day on the trail to
Chamje.
Chamje - a pleasant village sandwiched between tremendous and ominous sheer
faces and overlooking the river ravine. Scored another 20r room with the same
pretenses on dinner and settled in hard. The same menu, the same dinner, only
this time not so satisfying.
Tomorrow Bagarchaap.
June 22, 2002
Day 3
H > Bagarchaap, Nepal 2160m 95f 5:30 / 6h-1h 150r
A moderate climb
Met the only other traveller last night. A 21 year old California valley girl
who just finished 4 months of Nepali study on exchange and excited to flaunt her
new found knowledge. A he/she with obvious issues. Dreadlocks and the usual
carefully considered arrangement of cultural jewelry on display to impress and
hide her confusion. Eminating of stink (likely 4 months worth) from lack of
shower and artificially and blissfully unaware of the real world around her.
Convinced that the western world is the source of all evil and of course the
reason behind all the problems Nepal is now faced with. A typical California
dreamer turning an anthill of information and experience into a mountain. An
evening of conversation that went nowhere.
A silent night and an early clear morning. Decided to set off at once and get a
good headstart on the nonsense that is sure to follow. The umbrella proves to be
a real savior. Not from rain but from the intense midday sun. Not a single cloud
in the sky.
Met 2 Israelis and porter/guide headed in the other direction. Gave up on AMS a
few days before the pass and decided to turn back. Quite a bit more down to
earth then most Israelis I have met, which explains why they aren't in Manali
right now. A kind couple willing to dump all their extras on me. Inherited a
1kg. bag of ramen noodles, completing my food self-sufficiency and sure to save
me a bundle.
My diet - Muesli and milk for breakfast, Tang and biscuits for lunch, Ramen for
dinner throw in a momo or two from time to time to keep the spirits high. Not
very well rounded but then again I don't exactly have the facilities to cook 4
course. For 21 days I think I can handle it. At 2 liters of Iodized water per
day atleast I have no worries about scurvy.
A much more relaxed hike then yesterday thanks to the early departure and the
fact that the temperature is starting to drop. The final 3 hours behind a
caravan of donkeys uphill. When they start waving their tails there is a gift
ahead. Wish these ranchers knew what a pooper scooper was.
Bagarchaap - a nothing village. A 10r room.
A beautiful day on trail. Next stop, Chame.
Advice On Advice
Around the world 90% of the people you talk to are 90% full of shit.
The other 10% don't talk.
June 23, 2002
Day 4
H > Chame, Nepal 2670m 90f 5:30 / 6h-1h 250r
The first easy day
Another wide open day.
A group of over a dozen Maoists toting Uzi's and automatics quietly scurry by me
in the opposite direction. A very cautious 'Namaste'. Fortunately they weren't
interested in me. Unfortunately they also weren't interested in my photography.
Gone are the rice fields and butterflies. A Tibetan theme and a high altitude
landscape of landslides and evergreens prevails. My first glimpse of snow
covered peaks, awesome. A pieceful and aromatic climb through the pine offering
incredible vistas over the river.
A friendly Suyu Chai (Tibetan yak butter tea) along with a pack of Tibetan monks
busy with prayer in the passing village of Lata Manang. And moments later
another break for more. What cost 5r in Kathmandu has escalated its way to 20r
here.
Chame - The capital village of the Manang District and the only village so far
organized enough to fix their hotel rates. A real struggle to find the one black
duck willing to give up a bed for 20r. Heavy clouds move in. A cooler and easier
day. The first day I haven't needed an immediate shower and nap. Looks like I am
finally starting to shape up.
A hole in the wall dhaba offering the best buffalo momos so far and a real deal
at 100r, half the tourist price double the local price. Took my fill while
putting the local police on full alert with my story about the maoists. Fun to
watch them restlessly scramble about. Found a fast and furious tailor skilled
enough to whip me together a long sleeve cotton shirt in anticipation of the
coming pass.
Roggy's Bonjour From Australia
June 24, 2002
Day 5
H > Pisang, Nepal 3200m 88f 6:30 / 5.5h-1.5h 250r
Again an easy day
Awoke to the sound of an old man violently clearing his throat and sinuses for
an hour straight. At one point I honestly thought he was going to die.
Fog in the mountains, a late start and the sky clears by 8. Treated myself to a
can of pineapple tidbit heaven. Another beautiful day.
The surrounding scenery is unreal and every day outdoes the last. Tremendous
rock formations and breathtaking waterfalls around every bend. The 'off season'
and I can't imagine a better time to be here. To try and convince me this isn't
the best season would definitely involve argument. A refreshingly cool breeze
and a steady climb through an aromatic forest of pine providing ample shade. The
final 2 hours a wide, flat, and painless valley.
Pisang - A friendly little tourist / ghost town nested in a little house on the
prarie valley. 152 prayer wheels down 'main street'. Heavy stockpiles of
firewood surround. The bargaining for a room is starting to get tougher, now up
to 30r non-negotiable. A hotel staff busy preparing riceballs for the travelling
rain prayer monks on their way. I suspect the same gang I met in Lata Manang.
Up the hill to Upper Pisang, the real town away from the tourist trail. A new
temple being built by Burmese on contract. I lug a headfull of rocks up the hill
to show my support and win local respect. A royal tour of the work in progress.
Digging the foundation, laying brick, carving clay buddhas, painting fancy trim.
Delicate work by some real artists.
Eventually the monks arrive and together with the tribe leader I share a final
Suyu Chai and a heavy portion of Tsambac (a putty made from barley flour and yak
butter) A traditional concoction that I don't think I could ever appreciate.
Lucky enough to get my picture with the Rain King.
The only thing that separates Pisang from Tibet, besides the lack of flem
hocking chinese, is the absolute silence at night. Not a single dog.
June 25, 2002
Day 6
H > Manang, Nepal 3540m 85f 6:30 / 5.5h-2h 175r
Another easy day
The magnificent Annapurna II during sunrise. A spectacular peak with an
unforgettable view from Upper.
AMS - Acute Mountain Sickness - As I continue to climb I am starting to feel
dizzy. The contrast between light and dark, sun and shade is becoming
increasingly violent. No sign of a headache just yet, but I certainly feel like
a drunk. Once I make it to Manang I shall take an extra day of rest.
A slow and steady climb followed by more flat valley and prarie towns. Feeding
wild horses sugar biscuits. This is by far the most relaxing stretch.
Manang - A well established large town. A town of Socialists. Extremely
outrageous fixed prices and a stiff penalty for hotels caught negotiating. Local
eateries cleverly hidden. A black market on goods. The only saving grace being
an incredible mountain view. I recommend to either stop in Humre of continue on
to Khangsar.
Hardliners. I once again manage to find the softy, and perhaps the only man
still working the fields instead of sucking dry the tourists. A man most likely
grandfathered into immunity from the newer town politics. A dirty little room on
the roof for 20r with a bucket shower.
The search for what has become known as the 'underground momo'. A partial
success. Spotted the smoke from the chimney and found the hole, but still
charged foreigner rates. A decent dal bhat and potato vegetable curry.
Down to the town 'projection hall'. A 20x20 wooden shack where 150 of the towns
men (all of em) and a few brave women packed in like sardines to watch the World
Cup. Germany vs. Korea, and despite the proliferation of German Bakeries about,
the crowd went wild every time Korea scored a goal.
Enter Klin, a Berkeley PhD student in anthropology who has spent the past year
in Nepal, also learning the language and writing his dissertation. This time a
Californian with head on straight. Highly recommends the diversion to Kicho and
Tilicho Lakes.
June 26, 2002
Day 7
H > Kicho Lake, Nepal 3000m-5000m 60f-120f 7:00 / 3h
A bitch of a climb straight up
Awoke to an amazing view of the peaks Gangapurna and Annapurna III from my
window. Today, a day trip to Kicho Lake and a few nearby Gompas (monestaries). 2
Options: Tourist Way - 4 hours of 'posted trail' heading from a town 30 minutes
away. Klin's Way - 3 hours straight up the mountain direct from Manang. No
Trails. No Signs. Well, I did both ways, Klin's Way up and the Tourist Way down,
and I can safely say they are both equally shitty, less a few good views.
Klin's Way up - A lost climb straight up. Almost to the point of requiring
climbing gear for most of it. Better views by far, but don't expect to have any
clue which way to go and if you will ever get there at all. Wear heavy sunscreen
as you will be staring right at the sun the whole way. Be sure to bring biscuits
and water if you want to survive.
The Tourist Way down - A bone jarring almost straight down. To put things into
perspective lets just say that ACAP has an annual budget of over a quarter
million. The 'trail' had 3 signs, 2 pointing in the wrong direction and 1 fallen
over. I slid down half of it by accident. Nuff said.
Kicho Lake - The reward, a semi-nice lake, small and shallow, and it's little
brother the algae puddle. A few snowy peaks. A few yak herders busy making milk,
butter, cheese, the usual. A nice place to visit but I keep asking myself
'Why?!' Why would anyone put themselves through these harsh conditions day in
and day out? Sell the yak, pack up the donkeys, and get the hell outta Dodge is
my advice. It's only 3 days downhill and you can meet some friends, enjoy
facilities, eat something other then putty and get a job that doesn't involve
hiking up mountains with 100kg. of rocks and barley on your head. Not to mention
you can breathe.
I must say, it ain't all that. Nothing special. If you want to see some nice
high altitude mountain lakes, do yourself a favor and go to Tibet and rent a
jeep. Far easier and nicer. I wouldn't recommend the Kicho Lake diversion to
anyone.
H > Manang, Nepal 3540m 90f 13:00 / 2h 185r
A rough bone jarring descent
Hooked up with another 'underground' feeding on the way back and learned a
couple of interesting tidbits. First, yak herders are the rich ones and that is
why they do it. Second, the standard porter fee from Besisahar to Manang is only
90r / 2.5kg, leaving me with only one question... Exactly why does a 100g pack
of biscuits cost 20r more here? I no longer believe the 'but we are so far away'
excuse that the shop owners love to give.
Sunburned and too tired to continue on I decide to spend another night in
Manali. Ran into the California dreamer thing back in town. Homesick and crying,
she thinks she's got AMS and is looking for a partner to do the pass. 'Sorry'.
Another World Cup showing, this time opted out of for an evening of strumming
guitar in the 'locals' pakora shop. Rain. A cold bucket shower on the roof in
complete darkness. A long hard day.
Tomorrow to Khangsar enroute to Tilicho.
June 27, 2002
Day 8
H > Khangsar, Nepal 3734m 75f 10:15 / 1.25h-.25h 230r
A short day on trail, easy to moderate
A morning of continued pakora shop guitar while waiting for the rain and
overcast skies to clear. A short moderate hike to Khangsar, the gateway to
Tilicho Lake. Khangsar - An off the main drag village still retaining some of
its culture. I recommend you skip Manang and come straight here.
Just outside the grip of Manang, and once again back to cheap negotiated
accomodation. After the troubles of yesterday, I decided to take an extra day of
rest and do the lake tomorrow. I am getting better at finding the 'underground
momo', quickly narrowing in on the smallest shack with smoke from the roof. This
time a discounted dal bhat in a locals house with the entertainment of 3 monks
in a constant murmuring chant. Light rains fall. An extended nap. Felt a bit
sorry for not eating the hotel food and broke down for another feeding.
Stories of one crazy man who once did the lake and returned all in the same day.
Decided to see just how crazy he was. Plans to head out early tomorrow morning
and do it all. Emptied 2/3 of my gear to leave behind.
June 28, 2002
Day 9
H > Tilicho Base Camp, Nepal 5:30 / 2.75h-.25h 200r (NOT!)
Difficult and extremely dangerous landslides
Nearly 3 hours of difficult and dangerous landslide scaling to reach the Base
Camp Lodge. And there they wait, two men redy to take a piss on me and asking
200r the night. Ha! And to their disbelief off I go, onward to the lake.
H > Tilicho Lake, Nepal 5000m 8:45 / 2h-.25h
A bitch of a climb straight up
A seemingly endless steep climb taken one foot, one step, one breath. Carefully
metering my pace against a growing list of symptoms of trouble. After 2 hours of
struggle (an hour less then what I was told) the lake finally comes into view.
Tilicho Lake - Supposedly the highest in the world (can you believe I forgot to
check the altitude?) and nearly worth the hike were I not too tired to enjoy it.
Like the lost little brother of NamTso, surrounded by snowy peaks dropping
straight down to the waters edge. Gathered my last burst of energy and made my
way down to the sandy beach and collapsed. And that is where I lay for the next
3 hours. A windy sandy nap to the rumble of snow and ice avalanches.
H > Tilicho Base Camp, Nepal 13:45 / 1h
A dream easy descent
Back to the Base Camp Lodge to flaunt my single day success. Dreams of light
powder and a pair of skis had me in a half gallop the whole way back, making it
in just under an hour. Sore shoulders, noodle legs, a pounding headache,
Ibuprofin to the rescue. A small victory dance infront of the two scabs and 20
minutes of rest and back on the trail.
H > Khangsar, Nepal 3734m 14:15 / 3h 235r
Rough and tired after a long day
Another hour renegotiating the landslides, much harder on the return as it is
all uphill. Infact uphill in both directions, an interesting conflict of
geometery.
I stumble back into Khangsar by 5:15. Definitely crazy, but overwhelmingly
proud, tired and hungry I do a retake on the 'underground' before finding my way
back home.
Hence, I have proven that it is possible to do Tilicho in one day, and if you
are crazy enough that is certainly how I would recommend it be done. Why?
Why Do It In One?
- Because it only takes one day if you are crazy enough
- It really brings you down so everything else you do feels like cake
- You get to laugh at the Base Camp Lodge scabs as you trolley by thinking of all the money you saved
I must repeat; however, that I wouldn't whole heartedly recommend either the
Kicho or Tilicho Lake diversions to anyone. Why?
Why Not Do It At All?
- Because they are both very difficult and dangerous and the payoff ain't that much
- After 3-4 days of busting ass you are still in Manang
- Acclimatized? Bullshit! Burned out is more like it.
Wish I never met Klin.
June 29, 2002
Day 10
H > Yak Karka, Nepal 4018m 80f 7:00 / 4.5h-1.5h 435r
Easy, even with signs of sickness
After 3 days of struggling around Manang I am finally back on 'the round'. A
moderate trail tapering off to easy. Took an hour nap in the middle of the trail
mid-route. I am starting to develop signs of a cold from too much sun exposure,
hard work, and a poor diet. Plans to make it as far as Thorung Phedi and stopped
short in Yak Kharka. Decided it better to bite the bullet and get some good food
and rest.
Yak Kharka - Nothing but a few hotels spread way apart. Settled in on a
relatively new hotel because of the claimed hot shower, which of course was cold.
The price of food has taken a steep climb, and my need for it has sharply
increased. Blew my budget for the day.
Plans to do the pass tomorrow.
June 30, 2002
Day 11
H > Thorung Phedi, Nepal 4450m 7:00 / 2.5h-.5h
A moderate hike into a very dangerous river
Out by 7 after a lengthy argument over an already inflated 'sticker over
sticker' menu price of 360r skyrocketed to 430r on checkout. Greedy cheaters.
Heavy fog. 2 Trail Options: The Old - Easy but dangerous with a couple
significant landslides enroute. The New - Difficult and argueable more
dangerous, ending in a steep rocky descent into a raging river of waist deep ice
cold water sans bridge.
Of course I followed the recommendation of a very prominent sign promising sure
death to anyone taking The Old and strongly suggesting The New. The result, I
damn near drowned to death as gale force waters tried to wash me away. Spastic
scrambling have me lucky enough to grab the only stationary rock and narrowly
escape certain death. My digicam didn't fair so well, flooded and disabled, and
of course right before the pass; certain timing that would make Murphy proud. My
advice, ignore the sign (I reckon written by the desparate tea house lady down
the road) and save yourself time and effort and possibly your life. Take The
Old.
-S110 Digicam Flooded-
Up the hill to Thorong Phedi, where the grubs sat and waited. At first
sympathetic to see I had fallen in a river of ice water and second just itching
to grab my money. Sorry, doing the pass today. And after a brief period of
thanking the heavens, drying, and reorganizing, onward and upward I went. Much
to their dismay, 'Crazy man...' I thought I heard them say.
H > Thorung La, Nepal 5416m 10:00 / 2.5h-.5h
More straight up and tough
2.5 hours to the pass, once again one hour less then what I was told. A
persistent cough, a growing headache, a bit quesy, otherwise no signs of AMS.
Thorung La - 'The world's biggest pass', whatever that means. An empty
'congratulations' shack, a pile of rocks, scraps of torn prayer flags, and the
real world's highest lake. An absolute suprise, much more beautiful then Tilicho
and quite a bit less out of the way.
I MADE IT! Just how high am I? I look down to find the Casio Triple Sensor
fluctuating between 5230m-5540m at a temperature of 60f-80f with every passing
cloud. Useless piece of trash. I accept the posted altitude of 5416m.
Collect my thoughts and emotions for an hour, snap some proof, and over the
other side I begin to angle down toward Muktinath. It is all down hill from
here.
H > Muktinath, Nepal 3800m 14:30 / 3h-1h 215r
A rough and tiring descent
Straight down and very tiringly so. Heavy fog rolls in and the temperature drops
to 65f, reducing the viibility to 30m. A sore throat from mass air flow,
neckpains from the jarring descent, a headache from complete exhaustion. The
cold pains that were beginning to subside are now returning.
At 4500m I break cloud base, the sky opens up, and I am treated to an amazing
clearing looking down over the Muktinath valley. A fertile harvested land
surrounded by hostile desolate mountain. A crooked dirt trail winding its way
down. A eutopean scene. I sit to admire the view and take a rest. Much warmer
again beneath the clouds. After an hour my symptoms subside.
Welcome to Muktinath, a good sized oasis of a town seemingly existent for the
express purpose of healing the wearly and battered pass goer like myself. The
Bob Marley Hotel, 40r but clean and 4 star comfort (less the obvious cold water
shower) unlike that of any hotel I have stayed over the past 6 months. Pink
Floyd 'The Wall' on the radio and guess who is there to greet me? The California
dreamer.
Suprise, she actually made it over the pass, I am proud for her. Put back
together, she shows a happy face. A late night discussion on the real philosophy
behind third world corruption, this time met by an open mind and properly ending
on a good note. Her name is Laura.
Well I did it! Today I crossed 'the pass', the highest point on the trek. Easy
days from here on out. A sincere congratulations goes out to my body on behalf
of myself. Somehow it managed to pull it off, while inside munging with all the
sensitive parameters to prevent me from falling apart. A reward is in order.
Sweet dreams of juicy Everest Steak.
July 1, 2002
Day 12
H > Jomsom, Nepal 2710m 80f 7:30 / 3h 240r
Easy from here on out
A commatose night of sleep on a 6" slab of foam. Recovery is eminent.
Some of the most spectacular countryside and interesting villages on the trek so
far. A stop to fix my umbrella and Laura catches up. We walk together faced by
strong winds all the way to Jomsom and somehow manage to keep a pleasant
conversation. She continues on and I settle into The Hendrix Hotel.
'If I don't see you in this world,
I'll see you in the next.
Don't be late.'
-Jimi Hendrix, Jomsom, OCT '67
where the man is said to have slept. Same room #6. Graffitti walls of poems and
praise, curiously all dated post 1980.
After you have had your fill of trekking for the day and you resort to a hotel
to recover, if there is no one else around, it is boring. This is where the
off-season loses its glamour. But then again, having crowds around would also
grow thin. Perhaps the real best time is inbetween seasons.
July 2, 2002
Day 13
H > Tukche, Nepal 2590m 70f 7:30 / 5h-2h 1700r
A good place to stock up. With an airport in town the prices and availability
are reasonable. A lively market on main street. 2 rolls of KodaChrome, 1000r and
a bag of fruit and a Snicker bar to go, 200r.
A snack break in Marpha, the apple and apricot capital of Nepal. A fascinating
little village complete with monestary and meditation center. Picked up a few
jiggers of apple and apricot brandy at the local stillery on my way out.
Passed 4 Indian Sadu gurus from Jaipur on a pilgrimage to Muktinath. Barefoot
of course and dressed in bright orange and blue garbage bags. The only people so
far that were proud to have their photos taken.
A mixed group of 4 happy white faces. 2 from Texas and 2 from New Zealand. A
couple girls from England.
A stop in Tukche for some fresh Mustang apple juice, straight from a Turborg
beer bottle, and once again I run into Laura. She recommends staying at the
Himilaya Hotel for good food. Well, I got silly and bought a whole chicken.
Feathered, chopped into bits, and fried. Tasty but an expensive 500r. Leftovers
for the next few days.
A late night talk with the hotel chief keens me in on some Nepali recent
history. Apparently it is the belief that the latest kings came to be by
murdering his entire family. Nobody likes him. Cause for the Maoist rebellion.
July 3, 2002
Day 14
H > Rukse Chaharra, Nepal 1630m 70f 8:00 / 10h-5h 305r
Tukche has successfully bridged the gap between itself and Tibet. The nightly
noise sequence is as follows:
Human - By direct and amplified means
Insect - Appropriately right under the bed
Dog - Consuming the bulk of the night
Wild Animal - Filling in the gaps
A very brief moment of silence
Roosters - Way before sunrise
Human - Why do they get up so early?
The 3rd day in a row overcast and the 1st real day of rain. Looks like the
monsoons are here.
A friendly local enroute helps me to cross a river and provides some good talk.
Sat down for lunch and happened into Lynda and Grant, two volunteer teachers
from America on vacation from their assignment in Kathmandu and busy shooting a
web documentary. Joined in on their walks and talks, a much more relaxed pace.
Ran ahead of their 'guide' to secure a room at a reasonable price sans the heavy
commision that he had been pocketing. Had the two suprised by just how much they
were getting jipped. Happy for a great dinner. A nice night.
July 4, 2002
Day 15
H > Galeswar, Nepal 1170m 80f 7:00 / 12h-5h 80r
The 2nd day of rain and it looks to be sticking around. I've seen everything I
wanted and am finally tired of trekking. Decided to call it off on the 4 day
extension through the trailer trash villages leading up to Pokhara in favor of a
bus from Beni with the gang. Extensive talks with Grant about including him in
my
GroovyGear
plans.
An extemely long day of walking and waiting, bringing us within spitting
distance of 'the road'. Galeswar - Back in mosquito country.
July 5, 2002
Day 16
B > Pokahara, Nepal 9:00 / 4h / 95r
The taxi touts claim 1 hour to Beni, I walk it in 15 minutes. The scandalous
world rears its ugly head. The bus to Pokhara, a tin can on wheels. The trek is
over!
Annapurna Round Trek Complete!
Conclusions
- 5,000r including all transportation, food, accomodation, permits
- Can be completed with under 5 lbs of gear and a budget of 200r/d
- Can be completed in 16 days, by then you are really sick of trekking
- On a diet of Dal Bhat it is a great way to get in shape
- I can do anything in Tevas, but it would be nice if they had arch support
- In Nepal, trails seem to go up in both directions, and all that is waiting at the top is a pile of rocks and torn prayer flags
- As much as possible, avoid any town between Manang & Muktinath
- The Casio Triple Sensor watch is pathetically inaccurate
- German Bakeries are absolutely everywhere
- The 'low season' is the best season
- Don't do the lakes
Celebrated the success with the gang over a good roast chicken and a few Guiness
at a restaurant showing Spiderman. A good movie, but a little annoying with
Chinese subtitles and hard to understand with the rain spattering on the tin
roof.
July 6, 2002
Pokahara, Nepal
The gang left early in the morning ot return to their assignments in Kathmandu.
I decided to stick around the day for a bit of relaxing and shopping (cause that
is what you do in Pokhara). Bought a couple chain stitch Kashmiri silk carpets.
Paid visit to my Kashmiri shop owner friend from the last time I was here. Lots
of useless BS talk about including him in my business plans. Came to the
conclusion that he is someone I can't trust.
A stormy night.
July 7, 2002
B > Kathmandu, Nepal 7:00 / 7h / 150r
The early morning bus to Kathmandu, a smooth and uneventful 7 hour trip. The
typical break for an 'organized' lunch where we are let out so far from anywhere
else that we are forced to pay their exorbitant prices and eat their crappy
food. The driver of course collects his commission.
Back in Thamel. My order is complete. The jackets and sweaters are finished and
look great. Vishnu does good work.
My new Canon S200 digicam package from the states waits for me back at the
hotel. Of course customs greed has the package out of reach until I cough up
3000r in clearence fees. I object.
Catch up with Tiger out on the streets, happy to see I made it back safely. Down
to the Everest Steak House for a workout. Champignons, onions, & garlic steak.
Not so good.
Feels good to be back.
July 8, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
Definitely not so good. Woke up to the simultaneous shits and shakes. Food
poisoning for sure. I hate the Everest Steak House.
UPS customs issues persist. I threaten to take everything down to the customs
office myself and having it all signed into my passport. After an hour of
reverse threats they turn the package over forgoeing the 'fee'. Rotten cheaters.
-New S200 Digicam Arrives-
Break out my mini-screwdriver set and without turning a screw somehow scare my
digicam back to life. Pack it deep down in my sack to hopefully sell somewhere
along the way.
-Old S110 Digicam Fixed-
Met up with Grant to talk business and helped him out of a 'Jewelry make money
fast scam' made famous by local Indians. A bit of reorganizing and piling up
goods for a shipment home. Relaxed to some live music at a roof top cafe.
July 9-12, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
Business, business, business. Other then picking up my 90-days Chinese visa and
organizing my 5-days bus to Tibet for the 20th all I have done is work with
Vishnu and Grant on
GroovyGear
.
Everything put through extensive quality control. A rough 1st cut at a new
My Store
section on my website to sell the goods. Photos, descriptions. A lot to do. Grant
is heading back to the states next week and plans to lug the 1st load back with
him and serve as my distributor. Concerns of customs hassles.
Tiger is recommending another break from the stress. Says he hasn't had a drink
in 11 days. He looks good, a more lively face.
Developed the film from the trek. Looks good.
July 13, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A day on the bike with the Tiger. He really has cleaned himself up a bit. It was
a nice day. Temples and such.
July 14-16, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
More work on the web. Software developing a shopping cart, designing a logo,
icons. Quality control on the convertibles and silk safe. Basically a day of
nitpicking about.
Tim's What's Up?
Dan's Heads Up
July 17, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A day of finishing touches by the tailor. That is until I sat down to show him
something and broke the machine.
Sewing Machine Repairs - Nepal is Asia infected by India. The same shoddy work
by a pimple faced Indian. Stripped screws, overtightening, hammering parts into
place, all the while pretending to make fine adjustments. A repair stand right
next to a man sitting on a plastic sheet in the middle of the street busy
hacking buffalo leg bones in half and digging the marrow out by hand. Parts
separated into piles.
July 18, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
A trip to the post office to research shipping rates:
GROUND - 700 r/box + 330 r/kg, 20kg 25" x 48" around max - 3 Months
and around town for cargo rates:
AIR - $10 'Service Fee' + $5.40/kg under 100kg -or- $4.50/kg over 100kg - 1 Week
Both otions involve customs issues only cargo must be picked up at the airport.
Second try on fixing the sewing machine.
July 19, 2002
Kathmandu, Nepal
My last day in Nepal, spent wrapping and unwrapping and arguing down at the post
office. 3 Maximum sized boxes and 1 maximum sized tube, totaling 62.8 kg and
costing 23,029r + another 2,000r under the table to customs. Air cargo would
have been a better option, especially considering the shipment is being routed
through India. Lord help me to ever see any of that stuff again.
GroovyGear
is on it's way!
Helped Grant pack and advised him on customs tactics. An expensive Fire&Ice
pizza 'goodbye' dinner with the crew. Burning the midnight oil to finish the
silk safes.
July 20, 2002
Day 1
B > Zhangmu, Tibet, China 6:30 / 5h / $140 5-day tour to Lhasa
A failing alarm had me in a panic to catch the bus. Locked in over an argument
about the room rate and the internet usage which I was told was free and wasn't.
A rainy morning. A deluxe coach 5-day 'tour' to Lhasa, Tibet. Goodbye Kathmandu.
A long but interesting ride seated next to a talkative older German traveller
who calls himself 'Cheap Charlie'. With loads more Asia travel experience then
me and some great stories. Stop for a complimentary royal breakfast suprises us
all, real luxury. A landslide has us holding for a couple hours. A quick and
easy out without even a stamp in my passport. Goodbye Nepal.
Tibet
VISA
Requires Chinese Visa & 'Tour'
$240 by airplane from Chengdu (3 days tour)
$140 by bus from Kathmandu (5 days tour)
$140 by bus from Golmud (inside bus station)
$40 by bus from Golmud (outside bus station)
Permits required but never checked
ECONOMY
8.1 Yuan (quay) = $1
Diem = 80y Food = 5-20y Room = 20-40y Ride = 4-6y/h Web = 6-10y/h Slow!
NOTES
The people are very friendly, except for the Chinese.
The food is Thukpa (noodle soup) and Yak, bearable but nothing special.
Public transportation is nearly non-existent, or atleast thats what they want you to think.
A better alternative is to rent a jeep for $100/day split between 5, or buy a bicycle and tour hard.
Don't waste your time with permits, there is always a back door and besides, nobody checks.
The laundry soap of choice is 'Screaming Eagle', it comes in powder form.
There is a lot of cool souvenirs for sale.
The Tibetans don't like their photos taken, so don't ask first and you might catch an award winning shot.
The landscape is amazing, but you will need a polarizer to cut the glare, and of course a UV.
Bring a quality 24-135mm lens.
Bring a sleeping bag rated to 0.
Bring sunscreen.
A quick exit over the 'friendship bridge' met by an informal Chinese visa check.
Everyone passes and off we go, 50 pile into a plastic tarpauline Chinese
DongFeng pickup for a half hour struggle against rubble road and Carbon Monoxide
exhaust. The chinese border town of Zhangmu.
Sharp dressed border guards standing in strict attention, quite a bit more
disciplined then India or Nepal. A careful check of the permit register has two
unfortunate soles on their way back to Kathmandu. The rest of us cross the gates
and we are in. Welcome to Tibet, or China I should say.
Ruppies exchanged for Yuan, basmati rice and milk tea exchanged for Jasmine. Too
late for the onward permit to the planned stop of Nyalam, we spend the night at
the border.
July 21, 2002
Day 2
B > Tingri, Tibet 8:00 / 7h
A cool and suprisingly restful night next to NightClub Karaoke. Relentless and
pathetic shrills of song-like noise.
Up and out at the crack of dawn, 8am (6am Nepal Time) and the locals are already
congregating around the public spigkots for laundry, a good mouth wash, and the
chance to socialize. A crippled bus on an even more crippled friendship highway
carries us up through heavy fog to Nyalam.
The rocks grow, the trees vanish, rivers forming and diverging all flowing down.
Weary roadside workers rest their shovels to wave us by. Smiling faces of rose
colored cheeks. Fields of green wheat and barley, blessed by a single prayer
flag. A long, straight, and wash-boarded dirt road extends to the horizon. The
horizon expands and contracts with the passing mountains. We have entered Tibet.
Pee breaks and headaches abound over the pass at 5,050m. We stop in Tingri for
the night. Tingri - The same single road of nothing that it was the last time I
passed through.
A short hike to an abandoned castle alongside an Arizona handicraft shop owner
who has 'resigned his life to travel' and his Swiss girlfriend. Good information
on import regulations. Back at the cramped room the sick try to sleep. Dogs
barking and people coughing and groaning. The sudden change in altitude hasn't
affecxted me. A cold night saved by Western Mountaineering.
The Tibet Tour Gang
Andre - Russian living in Israel. Quiet and thoughtful.
Charlie - German world traveller. Studiest buddism and paints thankas. Minimal and detached.
Raoul - Spanish conquistador. Curious and open. Fun and friendly.
Uta - German 'Energy' girl. Caught on India. Travelling with Andre. A bit strange.
Davey Crockett the 4th - Texas classic. Cowboy hat, boots, and all. The legend lives on.
July 22, 2002
Day 3
B > Shigatse, Tibet
Late in the night one girl broke down and retreated back to Kathmandu. A bad
case of AMS, and unwilling to take oxygen for some silly reason or another.
Up early as usual and on the road to Shigatse. An uneventful trip through the
rain.
Shigatse - Still the same little Lhasa as before. A capital center of Tibet and
humming with activity. Of course the tour had us checked into the farthest hotel
from anything possible, and so I served as the tour guide, ushering a group into
town for dinner. Nothing special.
July 23, 2002
Day 4
B > Gyantse, Tibet
While the tour took the morning visiting the monestary, I took a stroll through
town market. The typical carcass and strange goo scenery plus a handful of
souvenirs. Again, nothing special.
The bus to Gyantse. A long rumble over a non-road, arriving just in time to miss
the first day of the annual Horse Race Festival. With the tour planning to
finish off tommorrow, and the next race scheduled for the 26th, Charlie and I
decided to break free. Adios Amigos...
July 24-26, 2002
Gyantse, Tibet
An exciting festival of odd locals and exotic dress. Three days of song and
dance and plenty of Cheng, an alcohol made from barley and tasting a lot like
cold Saki. A horse race of children jockeys, sadly dissappointing to Charlie who
was hoping for that perfect shot of the back country old man.
Otherwise, a lot of site seeing in the rain. I now know Gyantse like the back of
my hand.
July 27, 2002
B > Lhasa, Tibet 8:00 / 10h / 63y
The bus to Lhasa. Actually 3 buses as I was kicked off the first in a small town
2 hours enroute for disagreeing on the fare. Spit at and kicked in the ass on
the way out. Attempts at hitching a ride proved unsuccessful, as I stood by the
road for an hour waiting for a car to pass. Back into town to catch another
overpriced minibus to Shigatse. Dropped off and just in time for the last bus to
Lhasa.
A DongFeng packed to capacity. Potato sacks in the aisles and surrounded by 6
chain-smoking jackasses, taking breaks to snort the white powder and swigga
cheng. The back seat, of course right beneath the loudspeaker, and by that I do
mean LOUD. Cranking away on China's greatest and most annoying hits. A boulder
blocking the road has holding while a group of 20 strongmen out, roll it off the
road, and back in the bus as though nothing happened.
--- missing journal entry ---
Heavy rains fall. We pull into Lhasa after dark. A taxi to the Barkhor.
My plans to return to Tibet were solely to avoid the monsoons. Looks like I
failed. So far every day has been heavy rains.
July 28, 2002
Lhasa, Tibet
The first sunny day! A day spent situating myself. A trip to the bank for a fill
of yuan and a visit to the internet cafe for a bit of email. A day spent
exploring the bits of Lhasa neglected on my last visit. A walk through the
Potala Park. Photos in the market place.
Caught up with Charlie, who wondered how I ever made it after getting kicked in
the ass and together explored the Jokhang, atleast until I lost him on the roof.
A tasty La Mien (noodle soup) in my favorite hole. An evening spent catching up
the locals on my last 6 months by digicam slideshow. A good night.
July 29, 2002
V > almost Shigatse, Tibet
Outside my window the 'new Lhasa' awakens. I look out in the early morning from
my 10th floor dorm room to find dozens of Chinese workers scrambling across the
roof of a new mall complex under rampant construction. A country quickly and
obviously being converted into just another chunk of Chinese real estate. A pace
of development that has Lhasa looking quite a bit different then even 6 months
ago. Dissappointing.
Plans to figure out my plans and to catch up a bit on my computer work, namely
finding a shop to burn a CD of my recent photos.
Enter Charles Poynton. A 50 year old geologist in escape mode from his home
country of Australia and on break from his new job teaching English in Chengdu.
Carrying a resident drivers license, driving a new blue Chinese WuLing van, and
looking for someone to share the ride back to Chengdu and talk to. His plans
first to see Everest, being a geologist and all, and today on his way to
Shigatse. No visa, no permits, 100% illegal. Possibly one of the only foreigners
to ever attempt such a thing.
Not too keen on seeing again and again what I have already seen, but otherwise a
perfect match. A quick decision is made and I jump in, off we go. An interesting
man. Half scientist, half horndog, and 100% living life by his own accord,
without regard to rules or regulations or any such nonsense. A twinkle in his
eye introduces his crazy ideas, as he dives into great detail with overwhelming
enthusiasm. We instantly hit it off. Lively conversation quickly consumed 3
hours.
Half way to Shigatse, massive landslides had us in a hold while workers did next
to nothing to clear the problem. Packed out of the van and setup a roadside
picnic for dinner. Folding chairs, coolers, propane stove and wok, plates and
utensils; he's got one of everything stashed away in there. Instantly the crowds
swarm and we become the center of attention. A passing news reporter informs us
that we just made the next headlines for the Lhasa Daily. We drink our beers,
eat our stir fry, smile, and wave.
3 hours later the lineup finally start edging forward. Two broken tow lines and
the help of a half dozen halfassed orange jackets later, we finally made it
through. Oh, the troubles that await.
Nightfall quickly followed, and a good distance from Shigatse we decided it best
to pull off the road and setup camp. No less prepared then I, Charles pulls out
two of everything from the Campmor catalog. And before I could let out 'No
thanks, I have a Thermarest' he had already filled up two Chinese air mattresses
with car exhaust. 'That doesn't look like such a good idea' I thought. Not
wanting to seem questionable and petty, I put my Thermarest aside and accept his
offer.
With accomodation out of the way, we move on to dinner. Charles, obviously not
so interested in keeping the operations stealth whips up another stirfry in a
frantic episode of banging pots and pans. Within minutes a crowd from the nearby
village swells, and we are once again the center of attention for the evening.
The candies come out and Charles becomes the local Santa Claus, instigating a
rage of jealousy over the kids. I stay as far out of the situation as possible,
worried about what I have gotten myself into. A great deal of commotion later
and finally their parents arrive to shoo them off to bed. Lights out and into
bed.
Zipper myself in and rest my head. 'Pop... sssssss...' 'Huh?' and before long I
am in a scramble to open a series of stuck zippers to free myself from certain
death. I knew that matress wasn't such a good idea.
Surely the first of many interesting days to come. A clear sky. Millions of
stars.
July 30, 2002
V > almost Lhatse, Tibet
Radiator Caked in Mud & Overheating
A beautiful morning in the countryside, awoken bright and early by the
over-excited kids of the night before. Prancing around the tents just dying to
see what sorts of gifts Santa has for them today. Another episode.
A short ride onward to Shigatse. Down to the permit office to pick up a travel
permit for the towns onward toward Everest. A permit that I recommend we do
without (besides, he shouldn't even be here), but Charles reluctantly accepts as
being necessary. Office closed until 4 and so we waste the time over a proper
lunch, a visit to the shower house, and down at the food market stocking up.
Back to the office and manage ourselves the permit without the 'necessary group
paper' by tactics wearing the clerk down with talk about Charles being a teacher
and such. A permit permitting us to legally travel as far as Everest and costing
50y each.
A long rough dirt and mud road, a bit much for the WuLing, overheated by a caked
radiator. 1 hour spent under the van scraping it with a toothbrush. Back on the
road. The skies darken, threatening a storm. The sun sets.
A long search for the 'perfect' road shoulder to setup camp on. PB&J and beer.
Off to bed.
July 31, 2002
V > 'The Pass', almost Everest Base Camp, Tibet
A noticeably long ride toward Everest, with conversation becoming more and more
mundane and difficult, sticking at every point for correction.
Charles is certainly a scientist, and in true form is dedicated to placing ideas
and opinions on the top of the stack. Opinions that are never compromised or
relinquished, causing the occasional break in the conversation in order to prove
the others' wrong. A bit of a scientific struggle in appearing to have all the
information and to always be the right.
I notice the trend and attempt to break it by allowing the final say, giving in
on my scientific upbringing. Unfortunately this only serves to elevate and
satisfy Charles, while keeping me depressed. An unenjoyable condition that I
must concentrate on to maintain, preventing the inevitable arguments. He
doesn't seem disturbed by his continual insistence of 'rightness', a trait with
obvious social boundaries.
Charles is certainly a horn dog, having left a slew of girlfriends back in
Chengdu which he gobbles about incessantly. Hardly a word comes out that doesn't
have something to do with something a dirty old man would be thinking. I have
come to the realization that in Charles search for a travel partner, he was
actually hoping to find a young Asian girl to smoozle, not an American man like
myself. He hates America and everything that comes from it. It must be just
tearing him up inside driving me around.
We pass the travel checkpoint, and of course our permit isn't requested, only our
passports. Passports that they don't even look at, content to wave us through
upon display. They have much more interest in regulating the movement of the
Chinese and Tibetans then foreigners on tour.
On to the Everest checkpoint sans Everest Permit. Last time it was a 12 year old
who appeared after 20 minutes of our guide sitting on the horn. This time it is
an officer in jeans and a tshirt taking only 10 minutes to up and outta bed upon
hearing the engine. The tourist season.
An unsuccessful attempt at crossing without the Everest permit. Charles decides
to give in and 'go official'. Back to Sheggar for a 405y vehicle permit and 65y
per person permit, not including the driver. We return.
The Pass - 5300m - An emerald though party cloudy view toward the peak. We setup
camp at The Pass, holding out for a better view tomorrow.
August 1, 2002
V > Everest Base Camp, Tibet
One of the scariest rides of my life
A mind numbingly cold night. -5C and layered in everything I got.
Early morning haze and rain defeated our anticipated view of Everest from The
Pass. Too bored to sit still, we decided to push on to Base Camp, figuring the
view must be better there. A ride best described as fishtailing at 40k/h only
inches from the sharp dropoff shoulder of a heavily wash-boarded dirt road. 'Why
not slow down?' 'It gets bumpier' is Charles' best answer. I grip tight in fear
for my life. We make it in record time, 3 hours, twice as fast as my 4WD
Landcruiser of the past.
The Peak - Through the valley, completely shrouded in clouds and snow, the view
is no better. We bypass the monestary and make our way straight to Base Camp.
Previously what was an empty Base Camp, this time occupied by tourist tents and
annoying vulturous chinese touts. We brush them off and setup camp in a
neighboring grassy lot.
The Lonely Tourist - Hakam - A Palestinian living in Denmark and the only other
tourist here. First met in Gyantse where he generously offered me his ticket to
the castle, affording me free entry. A quiet and thoughtful lad of a likewise
adventurous spirit and on the exact same South through India route as I was 6
months ago. Indeed an interesting parallel. The travel talks begin.
Cold, windy, and heavy rains we escape into the shelter of a tourist tent. A
20'x10' structure of Red, White, and Blue plastic tarpauline, surrounded by
empty cots and centered around a sheet steel stove busy filling the tent full of
smoke. The huddle forms around a sheet steel stove while a chinese lady dips her
hand deep into a bucket of gathered shit and shovels it into the fire. A beer on
top of the world.
Tim's Two More Days
August 2, 2002
Everest Base Camp, Tibet
The heavy rains continued throughout the night. A warmer night then the past at
5C. Inside my tent marginal warmth with the slow drip of condensation from above
my head. The nagging urge to leave my trusty shelter to urinate has me out
early. Heavy fog and still no view.
Back to the tourist tent where the shortwave radio awakes all with squelched
chinese and frequency modulated pings and whistles. A cheap green tea. A dull
afternoon playing the waiting game.
More tourists arrive. Lucia, the president of the Flemish Mountain Club and her
cohorts on a one month tour of the Himilayas. A very friendly crowd with Belgian
chocolate handouts. The inevitable questions arise. Questions that are getting
harder and harder to answer. 'So what do you do?' And quickly we both come up
with the same answer, an appropriate answer we are both proud to admit. 'We take
what we get'.
A gang of mixed chinese tourists. One lady with some understanding of english
helps to sort us out dinner. An evening in Vegas, teaching a rowdy crowd
blackjack and poker.
Tim Ties The Knot
August 3, 2002
V > Lhatse, Tibet
Another Scarey Ride, Punctured Oil Filter, Burned & Scored Engine
An absolutely freezing night of showers and damp ice cold air proficient at
penetrating my down cocoon and assuring a sleep free night. A generous morning
offering a first glimpse of the warming sun and the mighty peak of Everest. One
photo and of course the batteries die.
Charles is thankfully satisfied and we pack the van. Finally the prospect of
Chengdu fills the air, a moment I have anxiously been waiting for the entire
week. Hakam and 2 Japanese girls join us to the main road, enroute to their next
destination, Nepal. Charles excitedly helps the girls pack.
Hours more of the same road rage. Dropped the gang off at the main road and
continued on until the oil pressure light brought us to a screeching halt just
minutes outside Lhatse. Somewhere along the way a rock must have punctured the
oil filter and by the time the light was reckognized the damage had already been
done. Flagged down a tow the rest of the way into Lhatse and parked the crippled
van at a garage. Cooked dinner in the rain and checked into a hotel.
August 4, 2002
V > Shigatse, Tibet
The Inevitable Accident
A good night of sleep makes all the difference.
Caught just in time. Only minor engine scoring. A saving grace from the
prospects of towing the van the whole way back to Lhasa for a complete rebuild.
A new oil filter and oil and off we went.
Back to Shigatse (I think this is the 5th time I have been here) for a shower
and some more shopping.
The road to Lhasa and of course Charles jumps at the chance to pick up a young
school girl hitchhiker enroute. From the moment she takes her seat, non-stop
computerized english droans on and on. I tune everything out.
50k/h
Windows down
A tractor sound
A young boy on a bicycle sways in our direction
He turns his head to see
Our paths intersect
The sound of the bike smashing into the front of the van
The sight of a face cracking against my side mirror
We swerve off the road narrowly avoiding a tree
The van stops
We are alive
Quickly out to see
The boy lay face down, flat and motionless
A pool of blood streams from under his face
No signs
Engulfed in fear
I kneel beside the boy
Detect a slight breath
Released
The crowd swells
The family becomes evident with rage and tears
Uncertainty
Charles feels for a pulse
Stares at me paralized and lost
'What have I done?'
'What should I do?'
I have no answer
The body is taken away
The police arrive
Measurements are taken
The girl is gone
Back in the van, we follow the tow truck to the hospital. A dark candle lit
room. Intesive care and comatose, but still alive. Brothers holding hands,
father at his feet. Tears fall from his eyes. A scene of solemn care broken by
Charles' curiosity and trivial chat. Instant messaging of the event fills his
cellphone with life.
Down at the police station an incadescent bulb dimly lights a 10x10 holding
room. Broken windows and two stale beds. To be questioned tomorrow.
Charles argues for a hotel. He just put a boy into a comma and is arguing with
the police to pay for our hotel. He shouldn't even be here and he is arguing
with the police. I can't believe this. I am tired over this troublesome relation
and my mind is fighting over whether or not to make my break.
We take a taxi to the hotel offering its last two overpriced beds. Charles
accepts his fate for 30y. I head off down the road to an unmarked truckers
binguan. A crusty shared room and an ammonia asphixating loo for 10y. How sorry
do I feel?
August 5, 2002
B > Lhasa, Tibet 7:00 / 8h / 30y
Goodbye & Goodluck Charles
9am and still tossed about what to do. What's done is done, atleast the boy is
still alive. As it stands, I am only a witness to what Charles has done. Aware
of the corruption which is likely to follow, to stay here is only inviting
trouble. In a country like this, trouble I surely could do without.
I hit the streets, and as fate would have it am instantly flagged down by a bus
desparate to fill its last seat to Lhasa. I jump on. Goodbye and goodluck
Charles.
A piecewise old school bus piled high with burlap sacks of produce and Tibetans
liquored up on Cheng, busy snorting the white powder and smoking cigarettes. The
driver stops every 15 minutes to observe the latest disaster, to talk to a long
lost friend, fix a flat or three, or to load and unload sluggish waygoers. An
aggrivating situation when you really just want to get somewhere and could care
less about experiencing the local excentricities along the way. Enough clowns to
form a circus.
Finally back in Lhasa and back on my own. A bit of internet catchup. Grant and
the
GroovyGear
have successfully made it back to the good ol' USA. Looks like
My Store
is ready for business!
Ran into Cheap Charlie while looking for a room. Immediately plans form to see
the up and coming 8th Lhasa Thanka Festival and the 10th Nakchu Horse Race
together launching me finally in the direction of China. Checked into the
Snowland, the hotel who previously locked me out all night and I promised never
to return. The only hotel with a bed available.
August 6, 2002
Lhasa, Tibet
Spent 1/3 of the day washing everything I own, 1/3 day finding a place to burn a
CD (finding a person that knows what i'm talking about), and 1/3 day finding a
computer that is able to both read CDs and FTP my website. Working on
My Store
.
August 7, 2002
Lhasa, Tibet
Thanks to Seth, an American roomate with a Lonely Planet I finally figured out
that the quaint North East Tibetan village of Kermu is actually the same as the
trashy Chinese town of Golmud. Suddenly my back country trip to Lanzhou doesn't
look thrilling or back country for that matter. Infact, it looks remarkably like
the trip I have been trying to avoid.
Spent most of the day with comrade Seth talking
GroovyGear
over good cheap thukpas (noodle soups) and crappy expensive momos. Momos in
Tibet? More web work with plans to 'launch' next week. A curious old Chinese man
is standing over my shoulder watching me write this. He doesn't seem to mind
that he has bad breath.
August 8, 2002
Lhasa, Tibet
Drepong Thanka Festival - An early morning to the monestary. A pilgrimage
alongside thousands of devoted locals and hundreds of curious westerners. The
presenting of a huge 40m silk thanka of Sakya Muni Buddha (the founder of
buddism) on the side of the Drepong monestary hill. Surrounded by a crazy frenzy
of excitement. Tossing miniature prayer flag confetti. Galukpa, the yellow hat
sect blowing horns. Blessings and chantings. Air thick in herbal smoke. An all
day festival migrating between the towns two big monestaries. An easy roll of
film followed by a nap by a river.
Back to the room for more napping. Organized our trip to Nakchu for tomorrow
morning, Seth and friends have decided to join us. A lazy day.
August 9, 2002
B > Nakchu, Tibet 8:00 / 8h / 60y
The Nakchu Gang - Me, Cheap Charlie, Seth, and his two Chinese girl friends. A
long and usually uncomfortable bus ride to Nakchu for the annual Horse Race
Festival beginning tomorrow. The driver a bit of a jockey himself, nearly
racking us into the side of the other busses on the way in a 'let's see who
wins' fashion.
Nakchu - Immediately out of the bus we did a quick pass on the one main road of
noise and garbage and redirected ourselves straight to the fairgrounds. And
within minutes of entering we secured a tent for the night. The opening ceremony
begins tomorrow.
August 10, 2002
Nakchu, Tibet
A struggle in a chinese ticket queue (a pile of people all shoving as hard as
they can) with hopes of securing tickets for the gang. Denied. A scared ticket
window lady off and ran for cover taking the tickets with her and leaving an
extremely irrate crowd. The usual spitting and cursing commences. Fortunately
there is always a backdoor in China and this time it was a ladder. Up and over
the fence.
The Opening Ceremony - A wonderful ceremony presenting music and dance, nomads
with their horses and yaks and to keep the chinese image paramount to this
traditionally tibetan festival, a dancing dragon saturated in color. A camera
friendly assortment of smiling faces just old and authentic enough to have
Charles in a high. A beautiful day.
After some time the rains move in and the crowds disperse, to huddle over bowls
of steaming thukpa in the fairgrounds. I chose the big fancy tent next to ours,
unknowingstly crashing a private party of government elite. Too embarrassed to
hush me out, I am welcomed in and before long I am hob-knobbing with upper
crust. The spokesman of the Chinese Foreign Ministry and the Director of Tibet
Foreign Affairs. Two good friends of mine with pictures to prove. Almost sold
one my digicam.
It wasn't long before Seth and Charles wanted a piece of the action. Carrying on
like kids outside the tent trying to push past the guards to get in. An
embarrasing scene that had me politely dismissed to settle.
The ceremony continued on through the night. Fireworks through rain and strikes
of lighting after dark. Dancing around firing cauldrons. A memorable day.
Charles Police Frameup
August 11, 2002
Day 1
C > Kermo (Golmud), Tibet (China) 14:00 / 26h / free
Hitched on a DongFeng Flatbed
A cloudy morning.
Hopes to see the horse races, instead a nomadic tug-o-war. Men and women. The
races aren't for another week. A dissappointing turn of events.
Decided to cut my losses and hitch to Golmud. Said my goodbyes to the gang and
quickly found myself a flat bed headed North. Riding in the cab with two middle
aged Chinese men, and speaking not a word of English. Last in a 3 truck caravan
across a flat, expansive high plateau grassland, grazed by sheep and yak and
otherwise desolate. Divided in the middle by a lazy aqua marine river and
surrounded by rolling hills. A slight cool breeze and a blue sky with broken
cumulous. I have begun to develop a minor headache and hope it doesn't progress
as we slowly climb to the pass at 5200m.
What should be 4 lanes of smooth fast and easy road is 2 lanes of disturbence
with frequent breaks for construction. Halted in a line and waiting. A bit of
new asphalt is being laid and no one appears to know what they are doing, nor do
they appear to care. Dozens of orange hats resting about. Amazingly sloppy work
in a country where shoveling dirt and spreading tar are two of the most favorite
pasttimes.
I can't understand the difficulties they face. It couldn't be easier to build a
nice road on land like this. The Chinese would have you believe they have done
Tibet a great service by building roadways. The reality is that they have done a
shitty job of it.
3 hours waiting for steam rollers. A blessing in disguise. On my footing around
to see exactly what was the hold up I happened into a car of chinese tourists on
their way home and willing to give me a lift. Out of the cab and into a luxury
sedan of 3 teenagers from JimmaMao, Hunan: JiangYung, TanJing, and LeoLeung. A
small car designed to squeeze by jams like this, quickly putting us back in
action. A free ride at twice the speed and comfort.
C > Kermo (Golmud), Tibet (China)
Hitched in a luxury sedan of Hunnan tourist on return
A bunch of 'who are you where are you why are you' type talk. Supposedly they
are building a railroad from Golmud to Lhasa, due 2008. An excuse given for the
abominal conditions that the road is in. A forced dinner of fish flavored
crackers, hermetically sealed black eggs, and nilla wafers. Over the pass my
ride was finally progressing well. Almost too well until a few more jackasses
with shovels had us in another line. All night.
August 12, 2002
Day 2
C > Kermo (Golmud), Tibet (China)
A freezing night of awkward sleep in the back seat of the car, sans engine, with
my sleeping bag safely tucked away in the trunk. The others, shrouded in heavy
jackets snoring while I sit shivering.
It wasn't until 6:30 when things started moving again. A tap on the rear bumper
by the trailing truck startled the gang awake and into action, dodging mounds of
construction material strategically dropped in the middle of the road, only to
queue up again 10k further along. Groups of 11 workers, 1 working and 10
watching.
The third amigo takes the wheel. An agro demon of a driver determined to double
the speed of the fastest vehicle on the road and at the same time throw the car
into intense swerves to avoid even the smallest rock, which there are plenty of.
The constant feeling of near death. Somehow I always end up with lunatics. A bit
further along, a collapsed bridge over a fairly tame stream has us hiking across
the valley and hitching in the bed of a truck before meeting back up with evil
kneivel on the other side.
A mind numbingly dull ride. Overcast skies and flatland as far as the eye can
see, reminds me of the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. Snow covered mountains come into
view far off on the horizon. An hour later we meet the peaks and squeeze through
a crevice in between.
24 hours after the start of the journey we finally begin to descend. Twisting
down between cragged rocks and into the heart of a canyon. Significant evidence
of the railroad becomes apparent. Massive 100m concrete bridge footings in
place. An impressive construction weaves its way along seemingly effortlessly
between the banks and passing back and forth over the road the whole way along.
The changing scenery awakens me.
The road vastly improves into what might be considered decent. The clouds open
up revealing blue skies. My persistent headache eases away. Small shrubs and
trees begin to once again populate the land. We have left Tibet.
Evil points out how much it looks like Texas. Maybe closer to Arizona. Either
way it is a beautiful landscape. Within minutes the mountains drop behind and
the land turns barren. Nothing but flat dirt land. The road finally widens to 4
lanes.
Golmud - Much bigger and uglier then I had imagined. Welcome to China.
Chingzang Road - One of the finest examples of a senselessly crappy road in the
world. One trip on this road will leave you confused for life. In any organized
country, a trip like this should take at most 8 hours. In China consider
yourself lucky if it takes 30. I was very lucky, it only took 26.
China
VISA
$33 = 1-3m SE (From Nepal)
$30 = Per 1m SE (From Mongolia)
10 Days Application
ECONOMY
8.2 Yuan (quay) = $1
Diem = 80y Food = 3-20y Room = 20-50y Ride = 6-8y/h Web = 2-6y/h Fast!
ESSENTIAL CHINESE
'Ni How' = Hello
'Shi Shi' = Thankyou
'How' = Good
'Bu How' = No good
'Yow' = I want
'Bu Yow' = I don't want
'Mao' = I don't have
'Doi' = Right
'Bu Sa' = Bullshit (That's not so)
'Ting Bu Dong' = I don't understand
'Wo Bu Shian' = I don't smoke
'Yo Mao Bin Chiling' = Do you have icecream?
NOTES
Half the people are unbelievably friendly and half are jackasses.
No one speaks a word of English nor understands even the simplest of gestures, your best option is to act dumb.
The food is cheap and amazing, perhaps the best in the world, especially if you like noodles or stir-fry.
Public transportation is decent if you can manage a sleeper on the train (mofia?), otherwise it is crap.
Buses circle town endlessly leaving only when full, then they stop for gas.
A better option is to rent or buy a bicycle and go deep.
The major cities can be quite air-polluted but are kept amazingly clean.
In general, extreme prejudices exist.
Foreigners are lovingly referred to as 'La Wei' (similar to 'Nigger').
Foreigners can not drive in China.
In desparate situations foreigners become invisible unless money is involved.
Hotels are for the most part clean (crisp white sheets) and provide everything you need.
You will never see a room key; however, nor will you see the maid designated to unlock your door.
The laundry soap of choice is 'Screaming Eagle', it comes in bar and powder form.
Goods are cheap and of decent quality, especially shoes, clothes, silks, and teas.
Shoveling dirt is national past-time, all self respecting Chinese own at least 2 shovels.
The Chinese are a mixed gang as far as photos is concerned, don't ask and you'll be ok.
The landscape is quite mixed but often a haze of smog obscures a good view.
Bring a quality 24-135mm lens.
Dropped off at the corner entering town. Say my goodbyes and they are off. Strip
off the heavy clothes and begin my search for the center of town. Once again on
my own.
Down to the railway to find the schedule to Lake Kokonor, as this town isn't
worth my time. The noodle soup scam. A 5y train station LaMien tries to inflate
itself to 10y. I threaten with police and the price quickly drops back down.
Bastard muslims.
T > Lake Kokonor, China 18:40 / 10h / 82y
Not interested in Golmud, I take the next train out. An overnight to Tianjun
with a plan to get out as soon as Lake Kokonor comes into view. Nothing outside
the window but desert. Friendly train mates. Time to catch up on my journal.
August 13, 2002
B > Xining, China 16:30 / 4h / 24y
Decided to offload at Khangsta, apparently the only 'big' town on the lake. Not
so big. A virtual ghost town, less 2 chinese girls and their kids. Returning
from their vacation in Golmud to their home in Chengdu and with plans to also
see the lake. The Chinese call it ChingHai, explaining the reason no one
understood where I wanted to go on the train. They invite me along. Maybe not a
bad idea.
A frostbite bitter cold morning. Standing on the street for an hour waiting for
a hitch to 'New Khangsta', the actual town. Together we organize a 5 hour van
tour.
Principle destination, the bird sanctuary. A ridiculously high 45y entry fee has
me waiting at the gate while the girls tour. Not a big heart breaker. Besides, I
've seen seagulls before.
ChingHai - The largest lake in Asia. Deep blue saline water said to connect by
underground river to Lhasa. Surrounded by flat green grassland. Ancient
Mongolian/Tibetan grazing land. A pretty lake, but I recommend you take full
advantage of your sleeper and see it from the window and go back to bed until
Xining.
The bus to Xining along with my new friends. Across Mongolian-esk rolling
grasslands. The typical 30m of road obstructions. It is starting to really look
like China. An urban sprawl across a heterogenous landscape. Billboards and junk
shops line the streets. More noodle shops then people. Background smells of air
pollution. Everyone with a cigarette dangling from their mouth.
Xining - A medium sized city, predominantly muslim and 100% Chinese. The same
street tiles and communist structure as every city in China. Busy streets full
of shopping and noodle stands.
Chinese women can sure order food. More then enough and very good. A room search
that succeded for the girls and failed for me. Government hotels don't allow 'La
Wei', apparently my new name. So exactly how many years behind does this put
China?
Checked into a private hotel with nearly the same policy until a half hour of
argument about the WTO by my friends wore the receptionist out. Back to the
country of the immigration office check-in. A half hour inspection of my
passport, visa, and a dozen other things. The girls, embarrassed by their
country and the 'La Wei', disappear.
An otherwise empty dorm room at an expensive 30y and with no shower. A rock hard
bed, but crisp and clean white sheets. A dozen hot thermos bedpan shower had the
maid running around all night. Not sure the cost savings here.
Charles Things Looking Up
August 14, 2002
Xining, China
A day strolling the city and deciding between the lesser of two evils: waiting
in line at the train station 'booking office' or a bus and all the on road
frustrations. Thinking back on my experiences as of lately, I choose the train.
And in trying to decipher cryptic chinese tables I accidently book the wrong
train number. The express train, an innocent and expensive mistake that once
made cannot be corrected.
An afternoon at the city market, in the center of town. A sickly stroll through
town. Most likely from the dozens of unwashed peaches I have been eating lately,
or it could be from things like the fly in my soup this morning. Memories of
India return and I remind myself of the dream I must be in to be able to step
off a street that doesn't smell of shit and into a market that doesn't hassle me
ruthlessly. All of a sudden I feel much better. Of course there are 3 people
standing over my shoulder reading this. Some things you just can't escape.
Chinese markets are amazing places. Fruits and vegetables impeccibly arranged.
Plastic junk toys, silly carnival music, anything and everything you could
possibly digest.
Having exhausted that source of entertainment I jump in a shared taxi to nearby
Kumbum monestary. The usual agree on price to get you in taxi and change the
price when you get there. The inevitable arguments ensue, the driver becoming
hostile in attempt to scare you into paying the new rate. Saved by ZhouDan
'Kate', a chinese girl and her family from Chengdu also on tour who overheard
the arguing and quickly stepped in to set the driver straight. The Chinese sure
can argue.
I thank them for their help and am invited along with their tour. A 30y ticket
that was never checked (skip it and just walk in). A beautiful monestary with
the highlight being the butter sculpture of a buddist dream world. Amazingly
intricate.
The Chinese are for the most part very generous people, everyone I have met so
far gifting me. Food, fare, everything. Regardless of how hard you try, you
can't stop them. It is part of their culture. Offers to show me around Chengdu
when I arrive. I thank them so much for everything.
A sunset climb up a hill in the middle of town for a view. A much bigger city
then I had thought.
The best fish in Xining. I couldn't tell you the name of the place, but I could
show yo where it is. A relapse on my first night in Beijing. A 2 gallon cauldron
of boiling sesame oil, red peppers, and spices plus a whole silver carp makes
for an amazing meal. 3 personal waitresses hover over my table, organizing the
whole event as though I am incapable of feeding myself, which may be true.
Sniffling the whole way through. With cleared sinuses and an oil stained shirt I
pull the fish head out and the meal is over. A scoop of vanilla and some flower
tea and all for only 30y. Gotta love China.
August 15, 2002
T > Lanzhou, China 3h
The train stations here are run just like airports. Xray machines and waiting
rooms. There's no just standing around on platforms trying to decide which train
to get on. Boarding begins 30m before departure. Tickets are checked at the gate
and when the gates close, that's it, even if the train hasn't left yet. If you
aren't on it, you get to stand behind locked doors and watch as it leaves you
behind. No last minute dash. For the most part they keep a tight schedule.
The train to Lanzhou - A brand new double decker luxury express train. Perhaps
the nicest train of my trip so far. Despite the apparent organization of 'the
system', it hasn't had an impact on the people. A frantic push and shove match
is involved in actually boarding. A comfortable bench style seat on the second
floor. A window seat with a nice view. A 1st class train, quite a bit different
then the 2nd class chinese trains I used in the past.
People are quick to claim their space. Tables quickly fill with food (instant
ramen, peanuts, hard boiled eggs) and thermoses of green tea. A three hour trip
that you would imagine three days by the looks of it. One fat man ignorant of
the surrounding commotion is already busy slurping up noodles.
The train leaves Xining behind. An annoying radio and persistent cell phones
distracts from the faint sound of a guitar in the distance. I move closer.
Lanzhou - Famous for it's noodles. A dull city I suppose. A run in with the
Chinese mofia trying to book a sleeper onward to Chengdu. A snappy 'No Seats!',
without even looking at the computer. A black market on travel covering most
cities in China and making sure tourists pay the price. Looking for noodles I
stumble into the CITS office and have a chat with possibly the only true english
speaker in China. The story is uncovered. Buy a hard seat and switch to a
sleeper on board, a plan I had little success with in the past, leaving me on
one overnight standing still for 24 hours. My only choice.
A bit of tea shopping. The Goods - HuaCha - Jasmine tea ranging from 18y/500g to
860y/500g. The Presentation - heating the water, systematic cleansing of the
glasses, the filtering and mixing, the smell, the color, and the sip. Of course I
choose the best.
A dinner of pan fried fish, very small and with a thousand bones in theory
easily removed by chopstick. Never. A 1 hour 6 step haircut for 15y. Roughly
equivalent to a good wash and shave. A push on my luck to see if I can get into
a government hotel. Never.
August 16, 2002
T > Chengdu, China 10:55 / 24h / 140y
A mofia Hard Seat that never became a Soft Sleeper
The same fate, atleast this time I actually have a seat. Not so hard. Seated
next to a man that has opened a virtual cafe and is forcing me to eat a bit of
everything, of course taking nothing in exchange and determined that I understand
every word he says, in Chinese.. Seated across from a man that likes to button
his shirt down, open it up, and stare at his own chest. A vendor tries to sell
the crowd on polaraized MahJong glasses allowing you to 'see through the tiles'.
Clearly, a big advantage over your competition. A good time to journal.
Station Break. Outside my window a slanty eyed man in a happy yellow hard hat
squints his eye even more dear and persists in determining if the light post
he's just installed is straight or not. A half hour of slight adjustments and
re-checks. The Chinese do care about quality.
- Raw Notes Begin -
August 17, 2002
Chengdu, China
A couple nice men call up Kate for me by cellphone, and by the time we arrive
her and her family are waiting. A friendly welcome to Chengdu. Taken back to
their home 30 minutes into the countryside. A beautiful home. Obviously well to
do.
An amazing lunch comprised of a half dozen dishes of duck, fish, sweet corn, all
expertly prepared. A few hours rest and on to dinner, another half dozen
different dishes this time including a special lamb preparation. Eating is
obviously a huge part of the Chinese culture and I really like it.
The rains hit hard and they invite me in for the night. Endless hospitality.
Plans to tour the city, research the bus to 'Jojaigo', and perhaps see an
accupuncturist about my chronic neck injury.
August 18, 2002
Chengdu, China
Checked me into Sams Backpacker early in the morning and set out to find an
accupuncturist. Turns out one of the most famous doctors in all of China is only
three stops away on Bus 5. Will check it out tomorrow.
A day of touring around town with Kate and her friend. A few temples and a bit
of shopping with her mom.
The firepot dinner. An all you can eat locals hotspot, definitely 'the place' to
eat. I joined right in along side local men topless to beat the heat of the
eats. A brilliantly entertaining dinner.
August 19, 2002
5-Day Accupuncture Treatment
Day 1
Chengdu, China
Met the girls and made our way down to the Chengdu Hospital of Accupuncture to
begin my treatment. A room of faces full of needles, some with electrodes. A
crooked toothed old lady master practitioner and her school of interns. Quickly
taken in, shirt off and on the table. 5 days @ 200y. Today a 45 minute session
involving 15 needles and 8 suction cups.
A bit nervous. Amazingly no pain on insertion, but probing deeper definitely
indicates she hit the spot. Muscle tension, spasms, and a bloated feeling. All
signs that it is working. A half hour under heat lamp and the needles are
removed. Suction cups are applied. 15 more minutes and I am done.
Does it work? Believe it or not I feel a lot better. A bit of faith that this
treatment might actually help. A tour group of physicians from NewYork shuffle
through. Apparently this is one of only four such prestidgeous institutes in
China, reassuring me of my lucky choice.
Back to the hotel for rest.
A night at Paul's Cafe
'If god would not exist, it would be necessary to invent him'
- Quote on the wall, Paul's Cafe
August 20, 2002
Day 2
Chengdu, China
The same accupuncture treatment as yesterday with the exception of a reduced
number of needles and suckers. This time an intern practitioner who really hit
the spots. The injured muscles are sore today, something is hapenning.
Met up with ZhanYin 'Jennifer', a friend of Seth's friend YangYan who I
travelled to Nakchu with for a night on the town. A hole in the wall pig feet
eating dinner where we mingled with a gang of friendly locals and ended up
following them to Karaoke. A night that turned wreckless by the locals heavy
drinking and had us in a narrow escape.
August 21, 2002
Day 3
Chengdu, China
I am starting to feel like a local. People are starting to recognize me. Days
progress in anticipated sequence. 1st, Down to the Bus 5 stop. 2nd, Out at my
favorite noodle shop. 3rd, They begin preparing 'the usual' as soon as they see
me aproaching. 4th, I finish it off, good as usual. 5th, Cross the street to the
hospital, greeted in like 'Norm'. 6th, Take my treatment comfortably. 7th, Make
my way home, picking up some fruit enroute. 8th, A nap. Today the aches are
starting to subside.
Out for an exotic hotpot dinner with Jennifer and her friends. Left handed at a
crowded table of right handers with chopsticks. Duck tongue and bowels, pig
stomach tendon and bowels and throat, hotdog, baby catfish, and beancurd. A
broth so thick in oil and spice that everything tastes more or less the same,
like pepper. A dissecting trick to separate the meat from the bone. How many
Chinese die choking on bones? As expected the meal is paid for.
A full moon walk through the park on the way home.
August 22, 2002
Day 4
Chengdu, China
Symptoms still present, but everyday different.
An evening of endless busses to take us between a mediocre restaurant, an
piercingly loud and overpriced karaoke bar, and a quiet place to sit.
August 23, 2002
Day 5
Chengdu, China
The final treatment, and still not the cure. I believe a much longer treatment
is needed for such a chronic problem, but I don't plan to stick around.
Down to the internet cafe for a long awaited update. The 'catching up' on 6
months of missing journal entries begins... Off with Jennifer to the local
swimming pool for a days supply of Hepatitis B. Another night down at Paul's
Cafe. Plans to head North to Songpan tomorrow for a few days of Horse Trekking
enroute to Jiuzhaigou, supposedly 'the thing to see'.
August 24, 2002
B > Songpan, China 8:00 / 10h / 73y
An early morning bus to Songpan. A bit of a struggle trying to find a ticket
window lady actually selling tickets rather then applying lipstick. Another
struggle trying to find the bus actually going there.
6 lanes of smooth straight and fast California grade freeway and still a horn
jockey. A few toots of the massive airhorn every few seconds the whole way.
Eventually the road narrows to 2 lanes and winds amongst the mountains. Dropped
off in the lost part of town, leaving me alone and wondering if I took the right
bus. A random wander about until signs of tourism surfaced. 2 aggressive horse
trekking companies: ShunJiang 'the original' and Happy Trails 'the offshoot'.
Warnings from each side. Planning 4 days trek to Ice Mountain, 80y/day. A
non-chicken chicken in a non brown brown sauce at the Pancake House, some of the
worst food ever.
August 25, 2002
4 Days Songpan Horse Trek
Day 1
Songpan Horse Trek 9:00 / 4h / 80y
A fly in my non-chocolate chocolate banana (actual banana) pancake. Despite the
fact that everything is included, I can't forgive my sleeping bag & thermarest.
Israeli's just love to flaunt and brag and I got a handful of em on this
adventure. The gang: a handful of israelis (so typically overwhelmingly full of
themselves that is all we could handle), the pluplu duet from france, a few
chinese lost enroute to Jojaigo and me the american standin. 4 hour of dirt
trail through some decent mountain scenery, nothing amazing but nice. Setup camp
in a small valley aside a river. Bread and tomatoes for lunch. A nap during some
brief showers. The sun peaks through and I take a hike up for a nice view. Back
for dinner, handmade noodle soup, much better then expected. Campfire and songs.
A very cold night.
August 26, 2002
Day 2
Songpan Horse Trek 8:00 / 2h / 80y
Frost on the ground. A -5c night we guess. A beautifully sunny cloudless day.
Riding horse is no fun when you gotta pee and inevitably 30m after saddling up I
gotta go. Everytime. A few hours struggle before the group is ready to stop. The
pass around the bend and Ice Mtn. comes spectacularly into view. Absolutely
beautiful. We travel the valley leading toward, passing huts of intricately
carved wood. A stop at the snack shack to collect an unannounced 4y 'entry fee'.
setup camp, waterfall in cave, mixed veg stirfry, ok.
August 27, 2002
Day 3
Songpan Horse Trek 8:00 / 6h / 80y
I earned french name #1 Debila. A beautiful day to see Ice Mtn. 4300m and not a
cloud in the sky. 1 hour climb up to a lake, nice. 4 hours on the horse back to
the same camp, feels like home.
Turns into a city on the arrival of another gang. More noodle soup, getting old.
Fireside song and chat.
August 28, 2002
Day 4
Songpan Horse Trek 8:00 / 6h / 80y
6 hours back to Songpan. Stop off at a nice monastery, kid photos. Tired gang
happy to see the 'big city'. The gang moans about not having had a shower for 4
days, seems quite normal to me. The guides invited the girls to dinner. The
girls invited us along. Their only shower all year and dressed in their best
Tibetan cowboy leisurewear. A bit dissappointed when they saw the whole gang
show. What China has in great food it makes up for in horrible karaoke.
August 29, 2002
Songpan, China
Decided to stay the day relaxing and observing Songpan proper. Songpan - An old
3 road town of wood plank and slate shingle homes covered in a fresh coat of
concrete and tile but retaining a charm that still peeks through.. A river cuts
through the middle, the center of town indicated by an old wooden bridge. Main
Street, beauty parlors, shoe shops, the odd hardware store, Tibetan souvenirs,
smoked yak meat shops. A hopeless search for a QTip. something I am having
difficulty explaining to Chinese. A big bowl of muslim beef noodles. A chunk of
smoke dried yak meat, 250g/9y. Wander about and journal. Roomate Peter, an old
man from New Zealand still travelling hard and helpful in planning SE Asia. He
recommends:
Mekong Ru., Laos
Luang
Prabang (waterfall)
VangVien (river trip)
Vientiane (visa for vietnam)
Hanoi, Vietnam (1 month by motorbike)
Dien Bien
Lai Chai
Sa Pa.
Bac Ha.
Babe Lake
Halong Bay
Catba Island
then head south,
Hoi An (nice)
HoChiMin
Phenom Penh, Cambodia (by boat)
Ankor Wat (3 days ruins)
Bangkok, Thailand (bus)
Sydney, Australia (Dec-Feb)
New Zealand (of course)
Convinced to do Vietname by russian moto for a month. Together we head out for
dinner and run into Dave, an old man of LosAngeles that horse treked with Peter.
A funny man that picked up the tab. Dragged out with the giddy french girls
after another failed date with the guides. Drunk and desparate for comic relief
and attention. Some really bad karoake.
August 30, 2002
B > Jiuzhaigou, China 7:00 / 3h / 20y
Not so giddy the day after replaced by embarrassment. The bus to Jiuzhaigou.
Tibetan Style - Tough featured cowboy hat men in retired blazers, patched and
dirt stained and torn open just enough to reveal a salvation army sweater. Rosey
cheeked women with heavy jewelry of silver, assorted stone and shell, turquoise
and firecorral, wrapped tightly in bright colored woolen scarves and with
potatoes strapped to their head. 40y second ticket is a success and I even got a
photo. Packed up with edible rubber power, some cookies, a couple boudsa, and
the yak meat. Enter the park and onto the bus without ticket. An absolutely
beautiful day. Just me and the two french girls and one of the most beautiful
parks I have seen. Absolutely amazing. Rich blue and aquamarine waters so clear
its unreal. A dense primevil forest landscape, pristine. I have to give it to
the chinese on this one, they have done well. An elevated walkway and electronic
toilets. A must see. After 5 the sun hides behind the mountains and the
photography dies. The girls take the last bus and I hike the 2 hour to Shuzeng
Village. Stroll from lake to lake. For some strange reason the prayer wheels
spin counter clockwise here. Caught up with the girls in townand checked into
home/hotel. Colorful and traditional and the only visitors. A great jaodsa for
dinner. New french name #2 Joyeux, a bit of an upgrade I guess. Perfect day.
August 31, 2002
B > Chengdu, China 14:00 / 12h+4h / 85y
A painful night. Kept up all night by sharp stomach pains I attribute to food
poison, probably the yak biting back. On to the left side. Nothing much to see.
Outta the park and a quick lunch before the night bus back to Chengdu.
I recommend: Leave your luggage in chengdu or at the from office for 10y. Walk
to Zaru Temple, bus to Jianzhu Lake, walk back to Shuzeng village 3h. Stay the
night 20y. Bus to Changhai lake, walk to 5 colors pond. Bus to Shuzeng Walk to
heye village. Bus back to chengdu 2pm.
Lunch real cost 3y, my cost 5y. A local comes in for a bowl. I watch him pay.
They tell him to wait for me to leave to get his change in chinese. I act busy
for 15m. Customer get restless and wants his change. Negotiations and 5 m he
casually walks out. Lady creates a screen of employees and follows. Secretly
passes off his change. I demand the same rate. Tempers flare and the excuses
fly.
A sleeper and the 1st bus I have ever been with actual beds. Perhaps the most
singificant invention since the wheel. 1hour on road and a 1 hour break for no
reason.
In China take the train whenever possible. Bus has loudest airhorn in the world
and is used far too often. The chance of them dicking around or sitting at a
road block adding hours to the trip is almost a guarantee. The seats never work
and sleep is futile. They love dangerous maneuvers.
September 1, 2002
Chengdu, China
A long but restful ride. Checked into Holly's Hostel as Sam's was full. Spent
the day relaxing.
Off to dinner with Jennifer. Another 2 hours of walking and bussing all over
town to 'the' restaurant. 5:30 and early, the only customers. An uspcale
restaurant with 50 tables and 50 'servants'. Lined up and at attention boys on
the left and girls on the right in order and all identical dress awaiting their
'leader's' nightly pep talk. It all begins with a memorized slogan recited by
all in military unison. Something about 'providing good food and good service'.
On to roll call. 'ChungCheng...La...ZhongMa...La...' A sermon of sorts and a bit
of a rehersed cheer. This breaks into a jingle led by another. All the while my
cup of tea is empty. More unison rah-rahs and 30minutes later they are
dismissed. The crew scatters 1 per table and begins polishing the dinnerwear,
inspecting the crystal for spots. The night begins. The pay, Food + Room +
500y/month. The life of a Chinese Servent.
The meal - appetizers, 4 monster dishes and a soup, enough for 6. 1. Beef with
pepper, onion, ginger, garlic served on a specially woven bamboo mat. Very tasty
and not so spicey. 2. Pan fried fish submerged in a bowl of hot red peppers. A
thousand bones, and suprisingly not that hot, SoSo. 3. Chicken with peanut and
sichuan pepper. A world famous tongue numbing razzle. Carrot butterflies. Very
good. 4. Spicey beef shish. On sticks and way to spicey even by Sichuan
standards. 5. Chinese cabbage soup. A good bath for diluting the beef.
Introduced first by an appetizer of salted radish and finalized by the plebian
white rice. The food is amazing and so is the service.
6:30 and the crowds stampede. Every table is full within 30 minutes, an all at
once scene making clear the need for so many servants. Ladies at one table, all
talk and no eat. Men at another, all eat and no talk. A sitting time of 2 hours
and the restaurant closes.
'We Were Soldiers' - A movie about how crummy it was to be a soldier during the
vietname war. A movie of course ending on the good note of a victorious America
the husband that made it. English with chinese subtitles. So-So, the best part
being the theater of leather sofas.
September 2, 2002
Chengdu, China
A day of continued journal catchup in the comfort of my posh single
airconditioned room. A break for lunch.
Ordering food in China can be a tricky affair. For the most part, english menus
do not exist, and when they do as a result of the heinously botched translation
what you end up with is rarely what you ordered. Plan on trying anything once.
Your safest option is to find someone in the room eating something you like and
point to it with the overwhelming expresiion of 'Same Same'. If your lucky that
is what you will get, otherwise get used to gnawing around the bones.
Caught up with Jennifer and Devin of Wales for a night at the disco. Crazy.
September 3, 2002
Chengdu, China
More internet catchup. Another exotic dinner gang night. Pig liver, goose bowel,
fish heads, hotdog tofu soup, fungus vegetables. The bill quickly taken care of
as I have almost come to expect.
September 4, 2002
T > Panzihua, China 17:00 / 14h / 110y + 30y com.
Jennifer decides to take a break from her work selling airconditioners for a
couple weeks to join me on my trip to Lijian, Deqin, and South to Kunming. The
train to Panzihou.
September 5, 2002
B > Lijian, China 8:30 / 150k / 9h / 45y
The bus to Lijian, Yunnan. I take my seat right under the speaker as usual. I
have learned that a plastic cup lid folded in half works suprisingly effectively
as a plug. Family guesthouse.
September 6, 2002
Lijian, China
A day of strolling the old town. Naxi turtle people, a blue cap and cross
straps.
September 7, 2002
2 Days Tiger Leaping Gorge Trek
Day 1
B > Tiger Leaping Gorge, China
Left our packs behind to carry a light load through the Tiger Leaping Gorge. A
decent bus to the Tiger Jumping Gulch takes us there. Free before 8. The hidden
schoolyard entry. Mama Gu's noodle shop.
H > HalfWay House 32c 12:00 / 5h
Long and hot climb
A long hot climb, 3 hours of mediocre half forest up and another 2 hours halfway
back down and straight along with a decent view of Snow Mountain and the gorge.
The Halfway House, which incidently is quite a bit over half way. A handful of
typically stuffy Euro packers talking typical travel nonsense to the sound of
The Doors out on the balcony facing the gorge. A nice view. A nice room for 10y
with good facilities (actual hot water) and great food. Left with a bag of
Sichuan pepper seeds for planting back in CA.
September 8, 2002
Day 2
H > Tiger Leaping Gorge Trek
Banana pancakes. Out by 11:00 and on our way back down. Beautiful waterfall.
Takes us 2 hours to Tina's for lunch. Great mutton noodle. The trail down to the
river and the base of the gorge. 2 entries: 1 with a stone house gate covered in
broken glass and attended by a suited man charging 5y. another a stone wall
built by the same man and free. Choose the other. 1 hour down to the river for
beautiful view of the gorge and waterfalls, the highlight of the trek. 2 hours
back up to the road. Le Chateux de Woody.
September 9, 2002
B > Baishuetai, China 16:00 / 1.5h / 15y
Hiked onward, half way to Haba and busses to Baisuitai. Calcium bicarbonate
falls that make pamukalle look lame. Sneak in the back. Beautiful sunset alone
at the waters edge. Dinner. An abandoned inn by the river. Jimmied the lock and
slept in a dusty old room. Sounds of someone upstairs.
September 10, 2002
B > Bitahai Lake, China 8:00 / 2.5h / 20y
C > Zhongdian, China 17:00 / 2h / free
Hitched in a car of local tourists on return
Up and out by 6:30. Back up the back trail in the dark to the waters for sunrise
alone at 7:30. Down and out by 8 and just in time to acatch the bus to Bitahai
Lake.
Recommend - 3pm bus from Walnut Grove, 20y or 4:30 from Haba, 15y. Walck past
the village to the Inn by the river and up the adjacent dirt trail for sunset.
Setup a tent and camp the night at the waters edge. 7am up and pack. Sunrise and
out by 8 to catch the bus onward. Free, empty, beautiful.
Twisting mountain road through villages of only a handful of wooden shacks.
Chinese culture dictates sharing, and so when one lights up, the pack goes
around and they all do. Not at all interested in opening a window to let the
cold fresh air in.
Droppped off at the turnoff and ticket window to Bitahai Lake. A ticket window
which instigated talk about the twisted govternment of China. As usual a trail
behind and around, saving 30y. A 12k walk on a road through mossy evergreen.
Caught in action by two guard girls walking the other way, phoned ahead by the
ticket window. I keep walking unphased by their gestures. Jennifer breaks down
and buys a ticket.
Overcast. The parking lot at the top of the hill, and another 30 minutes down to
the 'sea' lake. A quite ordinary and unimpressive lake surrounded by jackasses
screaming and dressed in mock Tibetan. Proding for money for photos alongside
their ornimented yaks. A flood of chinese tourists piped in on bus sums it up.
You can safely skip this place.
Enter Gilly, a rugged 35 year old travelled man of Israel that I couldn't agree
more with. A scarey image of myself ten years from now. Sharing with me in order
just about every thought and opinion I have had about this place and others. A
man that I hold respect for but at the same time leaves me worried as to what I
might become. Brash and to the point and uninfluenced by others. 'China is
finished. Good for food but bad for travels.' On and on about everything.
Unusually perceptive. All alone.
Hitched a ride to Zhongdian. More endless hospitality as the driver invites us
all in to a feast. There is just no saying no. 7 people and 10 dishes.
September 11, 2002
Zhongdian, China
Zhongdian - A makebelieve Lhasa. A productive day of relaxing. Out in the
afternoon to throw some glue on my failing Tevas. A new pair of green and classy
PLA shoes in the meantime.
Presenting Blue - My new moonburst blue Chinese Star Sun guitar. Sounds a
beaut., one of the best sounding guitars I ever heard and definitely the best I
ever owned. I had to have it, at 106y including bag and extra strings a real
bargain.
Christened it with a night of song back at the hotel. A wreckless night in the
Zhongdian Travellers Club bar, suprisingly poopulated by local tourists. Guitar
in China - The same 2 requests over and over: Hotel California and Yesterday,
and that's all they know. And that is all they care. Demands to play and when
you do, nobody listens. Talking amongst themselves eventually leading to a
chinese singalong of some chinese classic. I have given up trying to play for
chinese crowds.
September 12, 2002
Zhongdian, China
An afternoon in the surrounding countryside. Zongzenling Temple - The true
flavor of Tibet and one of the most impressive monestaries I have seen. We were
lucky enough to witness the building of 'the biggest silk Thanka in China'.
8000sqm (108mx75m), taking 6 months to make and costing the people 1.5 million
yuan. Applied for in the Guiness Book of World Records. Rolled out across the
facing mountain for a two day viewing. Lucky me.
September 13, 2002
Zhongdian, China
Decided to stay the day to see the finished thanka. A day on bicycle. The thanka
ceremony. A big lake. The 'ancient township'.
September 14, 2002
B > Deqin, China 7:20 / 170k / 8.5h / 32y
C > Failaisu, China .5h / free
Quick hitch in a taxi looking to negotiate a tour
Bus to Deqin. Surrounded by smokers, windows wide open with subzero winds,
rawkus radio, half hour late, nothing unusual. Hardboiled egg, boudsa, and Olios
(not a typo) cookies for breakfast. A nice lunch stop and the usual bus repairs.
Hitchiked to Failaisu for sunset over Meli Mountain. Beautiful.
September 15, 2002
H > Mingyong, China 10:00 / 6h / free
Hiked & hitched to the glacier base camp village
A night of rain. A cloudy morning spoils our dream of the perfect mountain
sunrise.
The great gig in the sky. A bench on the street and a few tunes on Blue pulls in
16y, enough for breakfast and a bus halfway to Mingyong, the glacier base camp
village. Lunch with the road crew. Hitched and hiked the rest of the way. Back
of a tractor. Overcast and raining. A poor view. Checked into a hotel with plans
of hiking the glacier tomorrow. A mission to find the 'back door' up a trail
along the left side of the river foiled by a broken bridge. A good dinner. The
typical shower struggles. An early night.
September 16, 2002
H > Mingyong Glacier 1.5h moderate climb
A moderate 1.5 hour up along the right side of the river. No need for the 80y
horses, especially at 6am which is the best time to avoid the 60y 'entry fee'.
Be careful, there is an office at the top. A dark and hot climb with heavy cloud
cover on a donkey trail twisting endlessly and senselessly back and forth as all
roads and trails in china seem. An old tradition used to prevent evil spirits
(which we all know can't turn corners) from passing. Today just an annoying way
to turn a 10m trip into an hour. The dawn glow starts to light our way. The
glacier a dirty slalom of snow and blue ice half shrouded by cloud. We make our
way to the observatory and wait in hopes of a clearing. 11c at 10am and the sun
just begins to peek through. The crowds arrive at 12 and we convince ourselves
it is time to go. A run in with the PSB (their office at the top spotted us),
hot on our trail and grubbing for their money. I hold firm on the 'we got up
before you' argument. Jennifer broke down and bought the ticket. A
dissappointing turn of events to an otherwise nice day.
B > Deqin, China 17:00 / 2h / 12y
The bus to Deqin, pronounced ShangriLa by the money grubbing government content
to advertise it as a paradise. A paradise of cement, garbage, noise, and
unattractive buildings maybe. Cows in the street remind me of India. NewYork is
more ShangriLa. The guidebooks tout it as the next best thing to Tibet. A bit
hard to belive as you would have to search pretty hard to find anything even
remotely resembling Tibet. There are more signs in Arabic. The only savior is
the nearby mountain and glacier which the chinese still have yet to completely
disturb. They are doing a good job of it though. Topping my list of worst places
in China, I reckon you skip it and save yourself the inevitable dissappointment
and expense.
Decided to do ourselves a favor and checked into a hotel without cockroaches
everywhere. A TV, 29 channels all run by the government, not a single word in
english. A bit of a search. A terrible dinner. Bus tickets to leave back to
Lijiang for early tomorrow morning, not soon enough.
September 17, 2002
B > Lijian, China 6:30 + :30 / 12h + 3h / 65y
The bus to Lijian. A 12 hour already painful journey turned 15 really painful
hours by the typical assortment of on road repairs. 3 punctured tires, 1 cracked
rim, a leaky water tank requiring periodic refills (steam engine?), and of course
waiting for other vehicles that have also broken down. On and on, a never ending
road winding back and forth through the mountains. Rightfully, I am getting more
and more tired of travel through China and am about ready to leave.
Lucky for us Jennifer remembers the guesthouse we left our packs at. This time a
much nicer room.
September 18, 2002
B > Dali, China 11:00 / 3h / 25y
Heavy rains in the morning and by the side of the road we stand, flagging down
the bus to Dali just outside the station to negotiate a better rate. An
uneventful ride with suprisingly no breakdowns or flats. A first in all the
buses I have taken through China so far.
Finally out of the labourious mountains and into a straight and easy valley.
Farmers knee deep in their fields and busy harvesting rice.
Dali - When people speak of Dali they are referring to the 'ancient city'. The
Pushkar of China. Tourist and hippie heaven. Cheap hotels and road after road of
souvenir shops and small cafes serving up western favorites. Marble vases is
what Dali is famous for, and they are truely amazing. Beautiful colors and
designs and for next to nothing, the biggest issue being getting them home.
Checked into Hotel #5 at the recommendation of 'the book'. 'The coolest place to
stay and be seen', which is exactly what we need. Ping Pong table, nightly
movies, free internet, real toilets, nuff said. A hotel full of waste aways.
A stroll through town and an excellent dinner in a back alley hideaway. Plans to
see the temples and the nearby scenic lake tomorrow.
September 19, 2002
Dali, China Overcast
Laundry day.
The 'must see' 3 towers temple a whopping 55y to enter, enjoyed from the road.
For lack of any better ideas a ride through the countryside by horse drawn
carriage down to the lake. Erhai Lake - Nothing special, just a lake. Hussled
into sharing a boat to a small tourist trap island. Rain.
Back to the alley for another fine dinner of Haishan (a grassy and green plant
tasting like a mix between cilantro and spinach), pork and wild mushroom,
Chinsen San Yao (a grain and pork loaf), tofu and fish in a red pepper soup, 100
year old pine bark, and the usual pickled appetizers.
September 20, 2002
Dali, China Sunny
A bus to nearby YouSou market. Minority groups selling everything. A midday
siesta.
Another quality dinner. A night of guitar sing along at the Sun Island Cafe.
Been working way too hard lately, and could really use a day to relax.
September 21, 2002
B > Kunming, China 11:30 / 7h / 50y
Invited along with the Sun Island gang to a day at a nearby 'hotspring'. More
like an olympic swimming pool of hot water. Anyways it was still nice and we
were the only ones there.
A bit of last minute shopping in the rain. A few nice vases. A chinese style
jacket.
The fullest of the full moon nights, a night that most chinese stay home to eat
cakes and celebrate. The night we had planned to head to Kunming in an attempt
to get Jennifer back to Chengdu and work. No night busses tonight from Dali.
Blessing in disguise. The local bus to the nearby city of ShouGwen to catch one
of 10 sleeper buses per hour running to Kunming. And at a 20% discount over the
rate from Dali.
September 22, 2002
Kunming, China Overcast Cold
Jennifer's schoolmate WangWen saves us from the overpriced hotel by inviting us
to stay at his 'office'. Immediately we are taken out for some famous 'Over the
bridge rice noodles', very good and of course taken care of.
Down to the local Canon shop to fix my shutter failing SLR. The same problem
that I experienced last year in Mongolia but this time is intermittent. Suprise,
another dissappointed Rebel 2000 owner shows right behind me. The same camera,
the same problem. Amazing odds.
Dropped off 16 rolls of slide film for developing. Tore apart my buzzing Tamron
24-135 lens to clean and fix. A few hours of tiny screws and springs all caked
in mango banana residue. A puzzle trying to put it all back together. It seems
to work and less buzzing.
A late night dinner sponsored by our host. The hottest and exotic shish kebabs
in my life.
September 23, 2002
Kunming, China Overcast Warm
Awoke with my ass on fire. A dangerously hot dinner.
Ushered down to the Laos Consulate to drop off my passport and visa application.
2 forms, 2 photos, and 320y (for Americans) / 270y (everyone else). Good for
only 15 days visit and taking 3 days to process.
An unforgettable lunch followed by a paralyzingly comfortable nap in the back of
a warm car on our way to the JiuXiang 'Scenic Spot'. Everyday good food and good
fun and it's all for free. I am starting to like China again.
JiuXiang - A beautiful river gorge with over 100 karst caves and waterfalls
stretched out over an 8k of walk. All while our host waits sleeping in the car.
This is getting too much, and I am really feeling guilty about this. Jennifer
assures me he will be visiting her soon.
A ride along the peaceful Yingui gorge in a boat. A mini Tiger Leaping Gorge,
surrounded by rock formations. Out of the boat and along a trail leading
underground next to the river. Caverns of stalagtites illuminated by colored
light. Lion's Hall a massive cavern housed by a single stone and holding a
historic museum of bone and rock findings. More caves and an absolutely
beautiful waterfall. Limestone pool formations rivaling both Baitaisui and
Pammukalle. A free wine and a stage show underground. Litter Service (riding on
a chair carried by porter) through a Bat Cave (no bats but you can make
believe). Up the steps through an inverted stone forest. And finally a chairlift
back to the parking lot. A Disneyland of natural wonders. Your one stop shop for
everything you came to see in Yunnan. Highly recommended.
Hungry after a long tough day of sites our host treats us to dinner. An
extremely expensive ($5/dish) dinner in a private room at the EeChowLong 'Single
Dragon' inn. A floor of aromatic pine. The standard spectrum of exotic and never
before seen appetizers. A main course of 5 dishes: sweet cabbage, sesame pork,
pork hotpot, more pork (what Yunnan is famous for) and donkey (tastes just like
a good steak). Washed down by 4 different drinks: warm soy milk, pijo (beer),
and 2 different types of green tea. As always beyond amazing.
A few words about our host WangWen. A 33 year old cotton thread salesman who
graduated with Jennifer in Chengdu. Above and beyond the call of duty. He speaks
no English. I have become 'La Wei', our only communications being 'Gambay' over
glass after glass of beer. He honors the quick drinker, as most Chinese do. I
feel like I am in college again. Friendly beyond the marks, affording everything
all of the time, and only the best. Regardless of reservations, he just won't
take 'no' for an answer. I can only hope he visits me someday.
September 24, 2002
Kunming, China Rain
Down to the post office to ship off the vases. A post office determined to
double the weight in TP alone. What was a 12kg package has inflated itself to
over 15kg, all packing material. God help me if anything arrives broken. An all
day affair.
Jennifer's time is through. Two weeks turnd three and she really has to get back
to work. The night train to Chengdu. A sad goodbye to a fine travel partner.
Plans to meet again in Oz.
Checked into the ChaHua Binguan (Camellia Hotel).
September 25, 2002
Kunming, China
Research on the Laos trip. An overnight bus to the border town of Mohang,
leaving many times a day. A morning walk through main square. Tai Chi and swing
dancing lessons, the chinese 'fit for life' program. Old men huddled around a
deck of cards or a board of chinese chess. Ear cleaning, tooth or bicycle
repair. It is all here.
My host is gone. Ah! Back to not only affording my own way but paying top yuan
for everything. A La Wei all alone is not so effective at negotiations. A tough
to find breakfast. This should put me back into shape.
I happen into the fashion market. Claims of Italy, but China in reality. Broke
down on a sharp PierShijia (Pierre Cardin) woolen jacket and a couple pair of
tradtional chinese slippers. Found some replacement Tevas (I never relized they
are made in China).
A trip down to the train station to better saus out my Laos trip. Same info.
Picked up my visa.
September 26, 2002
Kunming, China
Decided to hold off on the journey and stick around for a few days to catchup my
journal, affording me the luxury to ship home all my notes and setting me on a
light foot through the South Pacific. Of course the first partly sunny day so
far, spent in my room thinking and writing.
A break for mosquito coils and lunch. An extremely expensive but oh too tempting
lunch at KFC. 30y for a 3 piece original recipe shoveled down in true reckless
American abandon along side the Chinese elite, slow and careful with this
special treat. It's obviously the place to be seen.
Walls of KFC history and wonderous propaganda. Did you know...
1890's
At the tender age of 7 Harland D Sanders is already a master of more then a score of country recipes.
1930's
In this small kitchen in his roadside diner, Sanders develops the secret recipe for KFC.
1939
Business booms, the restaurant becomes a major attraction and Sanders reputation as a chef grows.
He is made a Kentucky Colonial for his contributions to cooking.
1950's
The colonial starts issuing franchises around the US.
Fastidious about quality he gives personal instruction to the franchises.
1960's
All over the USA people are eating KFC.
The company goes public.
1980
The colonial dies and is given full honors by his home state.
KFC lives on and today there are more then 10,000 outlets around the world.
The journalling continues, another break for dinner at the neighboring Yunnan
Full Flavor restaurant, specializing in 'Cross Bridge Noodles' and providing on
stage entertainment. A staff of exotic dress, lip-sinked song, and traditional
dance. A bit pricey but definitely interesting.
A full day to journal a month, and another to key it in, looks like I will be
her some time.
September 27, 2002
Kunming, China
10 hours in an internet cafe finishes off June.
I think today was overcast and cold. A bit of shopping. A sachet of the best
Jasmine tea and some heavy weight DocMartin-esk leather shoes. The good thing
about shoes in Asia, besides the price is that they fit. Small people, small
feet. I am a 245 / 25.5 / 40 / 7.5, a size American shoe stores rarely carry.
September 28, 2002
Kunming, China
A week of 'National Day', in reckcognition of the October Revolution. Awoken by
loudspeaker music and propaganda filling the entire city. Songs from 'Titanic',
which I think has become the national anthem.
Scared away a prospective roomate burning the mosquito coils. And thankfully so,
she was annoying. I have become a hermit.
September 29, 2002
Kunming, China
10 more hours of data entry found my July update complete.
News from back home...
Bush is once again up to simething fishy, bust edging the UN to declare war on
Iraq for 'secretly harbouring arms of mass destruction'. Doesn't every country
do this? This 'war on terror' is starting to sound suspiciously like 'war on the
middle east' to me. An obvious move to better control the valuable natural
resources there. People are reluctant to join forces.
Against all odds, my packages from Nepal have arrived 3 weeks ahead of schedule!
An impressive feat for a group of packages that were routed through India. Looks
like the lord was listening to my prayers after all.
GroovyGear
has invaded America!
September 30, 2002
Kunming, China
Today I announced the Grand Opening of
My Store
!
This hermit thing is becoming addictive. Since I am here I might as well explain
the place I have settled into. The ChaHua Binguan, better know by La Wei as the
Camelli Hotel. Stepping through the doors you might think it were high class. A
marble lobby. A receptionist in smart dress. An elevator with rotating date
carpet. Up to the 7th floor dorms.
Absolute ghetto. A cockroach scurries up a wall of peeling lead paint. The
unvented and attached bathroom smells of heavy mold. Mosquitoes circle. Atleast
the beds have clean sheets.
October 1, 2002
Kunming, China
Another 10 hours, another month. August.
October 2, 2002
Kunming, China
Finally my catchup is complete! Over 300 new photos, a half dozen new movies,
and 4 months of story. A hearty 'NORM!' down at the internet cafe. They love me.
I am tired.
Tomorrow to Laos.
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