Walk a Mile in my Flip-Flops

The Racial Divide

2012-01-25T06:39:00.000-08:00

In Southern Africa, and probably in many other countries that apply, segregation is apparent. It didn't start yesterday, but years ago when white men came to these areas and established their colonies, with their distant ancestors today still wedging an obvious racial divide. (South Africa only abolished legalized segregation in 1994, although it clearly still exists.) The white people have the wealth and property, living in the safe areas of cities, while the blacks live in squalor on the outskirts of town. (I am not saying there are no affluent blacks, but I am saying there are no whites living in "shanty town.") Swakopmund, a tourist city created for sandrenaline pumping activities (yes, I meant to include the 's',) lies on the western coast of Namibia. While the city center looks like the a German Disney world (or Farquad's city from the movie Shrek), the outskirts get progressively worse, solidifying the disconnect between races. The government has created plots of land equipped with plumbing, electric and othr facilities in the area known as the Township, which can be obtained by locals for $30,000 Namibian (about $3,750 USD), who can then begin to build their homes. The idea is good in theory, as the money is required to go to the building of the home and utilities, but leaves little choice for the homeowner, and considering Swakopmund unemployment sits at over 50% the option is unlikely for most. Those people who cannot afford to build in the township reside on the outskirts of town, awaiting the day they can move inward. While these people live in immobile buses or makeshift one room homes built with mis-matching material, pay 10cents per liter of water to "bucket shower" in their back yard, and just generally struggle to get by, we take 20 minute showers and live in a paradasical facade, completely unaware of what lies just miles away. Yet does this disconnect not also exist in New York, Chicago, London, and your own city? Maybe we all need to open our eyes to see it.

Etosha National Park houses a vast array of wildlife, and after two nights camping and 4 game drives (where we saw hyenas eating a rhino with a baby rhino standing nearby, two packs of lions, a million giraffes and tons more), I started taking pictures of birds. You know you have seen too many cool things when you start taking pictures of birds - that is my theory at least (birdwatchers probably wouldn't agree.) From Etosha we headed to a nearby cheetah reserve where a local family houses the cats which gives the local farmers, after having lost a cow or two, another option instead of killing the animal. They have 3 cheetahs that live in their house, and 10 that live in the adjacent 40 acre reserve. More of a tourst attraction than a conservation effort, it didn't matter to us, as we got amazing photo opportunities and even licked by the tame animals.

We then headed down Namibia's skeleton coast to Spitzkoppe, where we camped at the bottom of the majestic red rock formations, smaller but simliar to Australia's Ayers Rock. We climbed the rocks for sunset and took a group photo, forming our bodies to make the word Africa - if you looked hard enough. The following morning we headed to Swakopmund, stopping at a massive seal colony on the way. If you thought La Jolla, California had it bad, you should (and smell) this beach!! Millions of seals and their babies covered the sand, all the while screaming at eachother - I was convinced the babies were yelling "mom" and the moms were yelling "baby", as they scuttled around looking for eachother.
The highlight of arriving in Swakopmund should have been the nearby sanddunes, where you can sandboard and ride on quadbikes, but it was the fact that I got a bed and free internet! After 40 days of camping a bunk bed looked like heaven and the wifi became like crack. The following day I did break away from my comforts - I spent 2 hours with a perma-smile speeding over and up sanddunes on a ATV, and the afternoon doing a tour of the city, but came back to doing nothing.

After three amazing nights in Swakopmund, we headed south through the Namibian desert to Sossusvlei. Here are the most picturesque red dunes you can imagine, and after a two exhausting hikes to the top we wached the sun fall behind the the hills. Dune races, sand fights and a couple attempts to slide down on our stomachs resulted in a lot of extra sand in places it shouldn't be (I had a sand beard), so a thorough shower back at camp was necessary.
The following day we headed to Fish River Canyon, the second largest canyon in the world (after the Grand Canyon) where we took in sunset at the 85K long earthly divide. After a quick stop over in Orange River, where we met our new guide Ally and our new truck Wiley (named after the Coyote), and are headed South to Stellenbosh and onto Capetown.

Knowledge is Only Power if we use it

2012-01-15T04:58:00.000-08:00

If you had asked me two months ago to point out Zambia, Zimbabwe or Botswana on a map, I probably would have taken a moment and considered whether or not you had created fake countries to fool me. I can't speak for all Americans but I do believe that many of us know very little about our world, our environment, our fellow people , or Africa specifically. The unfortunate reality is that most people don't want to know. Africa (or Cambodia or Bolivia, the places I went last year) are too far away and too different to our way of life. As I spend my days uncovering that which is foreign to me, I have also learned of sad realities the world is facing - poverty, disease, and environmental destruction - and the beautiful nature and goodness hidden in far corners of the world. With this knowlege I now have the responsibility to pass it on, hoping my words will inspire someone to explore, embrace and get involved with everything that lies out of their comfort zone - maybe to even help change the world I am not sure I can personally make a difference, but I believe we can.

Antelope Park in Zimbabwe doesn't have antelopes, but it does have Lions. Due to the rapid decline in the Lion population (90% over the last 30 years due to feline HIV and hunters) this organization hand rears Lion cubs, in an effort to not save one, but to save the species. The offspring of the hand reared lions will have had no human contact and can then be released into the wild. (www.antelopepark.co.zw) So for $125 I spent the morning walking with Lion cubs, as they cuddled up to my legs and posed for pictures. In the afternoon I watched a lion feeding where 5 gigantic male lions battled it out for a piece of meat that lay right in front of me (with a fence seperating us of course.) Over the next two days I did an additional lion walk, some horseback riding (where I stuck to walking) and drank lots of Antelope Parks coffee (because it was free!)

We headed from Antelope Park to Matapos National Park, situated next to the town of Bulawayo. Early the following morning we met our guide, Ian Armour, a 3rd generation Zimbabwean, stood out in his short shorts and high socks, sporting safari colors over his weathered white skin. He is so passionate about wildlife that he has appeared on several television shows, and told us all about it on our way to find some Rhinos. The knowledge I was made aware of that day is that the Rhino population is also in serious decline, and the black rhino will soon be extinct if something is not done. The trouble, we were told, is that a rhino horn can be sold for about $500,000 (ussually to asians who believe it will enlarge the size of their junk), so poachers will do anything to get the horn. It is hard to blame the poor man, who has nothing to lose already for killing an animal to make money for his family, but the sad truth is that the demand remains. All of the rhinos we saw that day had no horns because in an effort to save the species Ian has tranquilized the animals and cut off the valuable commodity (it is the same material as finger nails), but it still hasn't stopped the poachers from taking even the littliest stump they can get. The only way Ian suggests we can solve the problem is to legalize the trade of rhino horn, they can then be properly harvested, and eventually the demand will go away. We were able to get right next to some rhinos, who Ian had "known" since he was a child, and take pictures.

That day we also went to a local village within the park and met their animated chief, 80 years old with a lot of spunk, who (through translation) told us the story of how he almost got killed by a leopard but was saved by a passing white man. He thanked our ancestors for his life, and then let us wear the stinking outfit while his tribe performed a local dance. He also told us that 5 of his 10 children had died of AIDS, and that at least 1/2 of the beautiful grandchildrenchildren who had just performed for us also had the disease. While statistics say that 50% of Zimbabwe has the AIDS virus, locals believe it is more like 80%. And since medications are so expensive, most people would rather use the money to buy food for their families, and therefore do not have a fighting chance to live very long.

On December 31st we made our way to Victoria Falls, arriving in town just in time for the fesitivies. What we later learned to actually be quite a nice hostel, looked like a scene straight out of woodstock with tents, young people, alcohol, sex (noted by the shaking/moaning tent) and drugs everywhere. We spent the evening playing silly drinking games, throwing eachother in the pool and dancing to strange techno beats. The following day we headed to the falls and took in it's monumental power, with water debris pouring into the air and thousands of tons of rushing water pushing over the edges, all right at your feet (literally - there are no fences seperating you from a swim.) Speakihg of swimming, while we all had our adrenaline pumping activities scheduled for the following day we learned of a fellow overlander (what we call people travelling in overland trucks) who had been the last of her friends to do a bungee jump that day, escaped with her life when her bungee cord snapped and she was pulled down grade 2 rapids with a cord tied around her ankles. (check out the video on you tube, "bungee cord snaps in zimbabwe.") Needless to say we cancelled our bungee jumps, and just did white water rafting, gorge swings, flying foxes and ziplines instead (which were also totally budget, but amazingly fun.) That night we feasted at Boma, a carnivores paradise, gorging ourselves on warthog (the best meat I have ever had), Eland, Buffalo and crocodile.

The last three days have been spent at the Okavango Delta, in Botswana, a beautiful marshland where our local guides (called polers) used long sticks to guide our mokoros (long canoes made out of trees known as sausage trees) through the reeds (while you get slapped in the face with them constantly). The days were too hot to do anything so we sat around our campsite played cards, read, slept and just generally melted. The mornings and evenings were spent doing game walks (where we saw a lot of animal poop, mud and tracks, but not a lot of animals) and sunset cruises. The best part was holding onto the wet reeds, letting them go just in time to get your fellow boatmate right in the face or racing the boats next to you. The last night our polers performed some local songs around the campfire, and I showed everyone how to make smores. Today we are off to Etosha National Park in Namibia.

Life in Motion

2011-12-28T05:17:00.000-08:00

If you need to find me my current address is "Pluto", an Absolute Africa Truck - big, yellow, noisy, with open air windows held down by tarps, filled to the brim with 20 people, crates of food for every meal and loaded with tents, sleeping mats and backpacks. To get onto the truck you have to climb a four-step ladder then stairs, because underneath the truck are massive containers that hold everything we need on the road. To get anything you need out of your big backpack you have to move 20 other packs, and for someone whose arms barely reach into the compartment it proves difficult. People hang their laundry in the truck, leave stinky shoes on the floor and everytime you need to get something out of your locker the people sitting in the seat have to raise their feet so you can get in. We spend most days starting at 6:30am and arriving at our second location at 6:00pm, sweaty and wind-blown. We then set up our tents (rain or shine), and depending on what group you're in that day, start making dinner, clean up after dinner or clean the truck. I am slowly acclimating to the lifestyle, but considering there are 20+ other trucks out there (including a bright pink Swedish truck where the campers party like rock stars and sleep on the bus' roof), this seems to be the easiest way to travel through Africa. The only real set-back of a life in motion is we never get to stop and experience the "Real Africa", which we only see out of our windows in between gated campsites.

After a long drive day we arrived at Candee Beach on Lake Malawi. Malawi, one of the poorest countries in the world, is called "The Heart of Africa" because of its friendly people. As you drive through the countryside there are many water pumps, clay homes with grass thatched roofs, and villagers who appear to be somewhat self-sustaining . When we arrived at the campsite we were immediately pursued by local wood carvers who craft beautiful chairs, necklaces, spoons, etc. out of a dark wood, which they sell to tourists for a bartered price of anywhere from $5 to $150. A lot of local people make their living this way so I went ahead and supported them, and my shopping habit. At the campsite, lthough 15 of my fellow campers upgraded to nice rooms for the 3 nights at Candee, my tent-mate Meghan and I opted to save the $15 total and stay in our tent. It's amazing how cheap you get when you're travelling.

The next day we spent the morning dealing with massive amounts of rain, and then got ready for our horse ride. Even after my last experience falling off of a horse in Argentina I thought I would give it another go. Well my horse, Bolt, lived up to his name, taking off at fighter-jet speed, running me directly into tree banches, while I subsequently lost my stirrups, balance and held on for dear life, while screaming "someone help me, I am going to fall off!!" Luckily I wasn't the only one to have problems as two of the beginners nearly fell off, and one Hungarian spent the entire ride screaming "Stop. Why won't you listen to me horse?! Why are you not like a car and stop when I tell you. Stop laughing at me everyone. This is not funny!" (All said in a Borat-like accent.) Pretty hysterical. The BEST and redeeming part of the ride was when we rode the horses bare-back into the lake at sunset and then held onto their bridals as they rolled in the sand.

That night we had a pig roast and punch party, accompanied by a "fancy dress party." Earlier in the day we had arrived in a small town, which had a market (which looked like a sea of wooden boards, haphazardly arranged into a maze of square stalls). As we pulled in, men ran to our truck with bags of the ugliest and most ridiculous clothing, donated by people like you and me back in 1990. Each person had to buy an ugly outfit for one of their fellow travellers, and reveal it that night. With most of the men in 90's prom dresses and the women in ugly velvet two-pieces it made for a hysterical evening.

The next two days were spent on long drives through Malawi (with a stop in the capital city, Lilongwe where we were all excited by several pizza places and even a Nando's ) and Zambia (with a stop in their capital city Lusaka, which had a shopping mall!!) After one last painful border crossing into Zimbabwe (where we all took bets as to how much time it would take, and with our Hungarian disaster it was over 3 hours) we arrived to our Christmas destination, Lake Kariba. The houseboats weren't exactly what I thought they were going to be (think two story sheet metal boat with thin walls seperating each room, matresses on the floor and drapes for doors, with an upstairs "jacuzzi" that was filled up with lake water, and a trillion knat-like bugs on every surface), but the setting was picturesque. All around us where mountains and beautiful green islands occupied with hippos, elephants and other animals. Even though the water was crocodile infested, we did jump off the boat's roof a couple of times, but spent the rest of the day swimming in the Croc Cage. We had an amazing Christmas morning where we were woken up at 2am because the boat was experiencing the most massive storm I have ever seen, and we had to shut our tarp windows and brace ourselves. That day we had top notch lunch, a hysterical game of bad santa (where my face paint sticks were not appreciated), lots of sun bathing in the extreme temperatures, and evnetually an tear-jerking call home.

After two nights we headed back to mainland, and started our journey to Antelope Park where I am now. While here I will walk with Lions, horse back ride again (I am a glutton for punishment) and spend the two days enjoying the beautiful game park before heading south to Victoria falls.

TIA Mzungu

2011-12-18T06:11:00.000-08:00

For those of you who aren't great with acronyms, or haven't seen the movie "Blood Diamond" with Leonardo Dicaprio, the letters TIA stand for "This Is Africa." Mzungu is the term locals use when they see a white traveller. The African ways take some getting used to, often different, time consuming and sometimes even shocking, but are almost always explained with the simple phrase of TIA. When our Serengeti tour guide got out of the 4x4 and said he would be back in 10 minutes, we learned about "African Time", after he arrived 1 hour and 20 minutes later, TIA. Whilst driving through Zanzibar Island I saw a man dragging a dead cat by a rope, TIA. Upon our first arrival at the Indian Ocean I dove in with enthusiasm, only to be surrounded by 20 locals, and subsequently groped by any and everyone within swimming distance, TIA. When getting our bags off the ferry after Zanzibar Island you literally get pushed, elbowed, and knocked into while people try to scramble for their bags (I will never again get upset if someone steps in front of me while at a US airport), TIA. During every drive we constantly get locals staring at us with confused looks or waving to us with enthusiasm, some yelling "Mzungu", some giving thumbs up and even some giving the middle finger. While driving through Dar es Salaam traffic, we had our first video taker, so I hammed it up for the camera and did a little smile and dance, only to later learn that while this video enthusiast distracted us, his buddy was stealing our truck's taillights, TIA. Needless to say, "This is Africa" and these are some of the things that come with it, but I promise it does have many redeeming qualities.

After meeting up with 8 members of my group in Arusha, we headed bright and early, via 4x4 vehicles to the Serengeti National Park. It was a long bumpy ride, especially considering Frank our local driver smells pretty fragrant to begin with compounded his manly aroma with consistent flatulence. On our drive in we were lucky enough to see a beautiful Cheetah, giraffes and a lion in the distance. We weren't allowed to get out of our trucks, so anytime we thought we saw something we would pull over, and all 8 of us would pop our heads out of the roof with cameras in hand.

At a lunch pit stop a hawk attacked us for our boxed lunches, coming so close that it scratched one of the girls in the face, but made for a hilarious story afterwards. After a night camping in the Serengeti (making sure our tents were at least 6ft apart in case Elephants decided to walk through) we woke up for an early morning game drive. This morning was amazing as we got to see a tree filled with baboons, ponds swimming with mud covered Hippos, families of elephants, two leopards and more giraffes. That night we camped on the edge of the Ngororo crater - a volcanic collapse thousands of years ago created this breathtaking circular enclosure, permananetly inhabitating a wide variety of animals that do not need to migrate because of the diverse climates within the crater.

The next day we did an early morning game drive in the Ngororo crater and the best way to describe it was a scene right out of The Lion King (minus the singing, dancing, and stampedes in the gorge.) With tall jutting rocks encircling you, Zebras, Wildabeests, lions and all other wildlife walk around freely. We spent most of our day saying things like "Simba, hes alive", "Rafiki", and "Asante Sana, Squashed Bananana" (scenes from The Lion King). In Swaheeli Simba means Lion, while Rafiki means friend, and Asanta Sana means Thank You very much. I didn't know I was learning Swaheeli while watching The Lion King all those years ago, and that someday it might actually be useful!

On our way our of the park we stopped at a Masai camp, a local tribe of people who wear orange and blue plaid material draped over their bodies, and thick beaded jewlrey on their arms and necks. (Some of the more stylish Masai Warriors on Zanzibar island also wore man purses and designer sunglasses.) We were directed into their small dirt huts and told about their culture, where each man gets as many wives as he wants (the Patriarch of this family had 15 wives), the women build the houses and the men tend to the cows. We later performed a traditional Masai dance (and I showed them some traditional American dance, which made them laugh) and were forced to haggle for traditional Masai jewlrey. That night we headed back to Arusha to gear up for our early morning drive in the direction of Zanzibar Island.

After one night camping in Dar es Salaam, on a beachsite overlooking the Indian Ocean, we arose early to head via tuk-tuk, short but packed with people ferry, and then 2 hour ferry to Zanzibar Island. Stonetown is part of the island developed by the Ottoman empire in the 1800's for slave and spice trading, and is exactly as it sounds - made of white stone. Although historical, and boasts an amazing night market where you can buy skewers of all types of seafood (I got octopus and calamari), I wasn't too impressed with it.

After one night in stonetown we headed to the beach, to stay three nights at our "resort". Located directly on the most amazing beach I have ever seen I saw past the dirty bathroom and ant-infestation to have the most relaxing 3 days of scuadiving, swimming with sea-turtles, and sunbathing. Currently badly sun burnt and super relaxed, I am in 12-hour transit in the direction of Lake Malawai.

Kilimanjaro - A Once in a Lifetime Experience

2011-12-04T19:50:00.000-08:00

Most of the time when you say this is a "once in a lifetime opportunity" it means this is probably the one and only chance you'll get in your life to do something , but that is not what I mean when I say it. I bet at a later point in my life I could come and hike Mount Kilimanjaro again, but the point is that I don't want to. Although it was an amazing, beautiful and exhiliarting experience, I am sure it will only happen ONCE in my lifetime!

Apparently US airways cannot check a bag completely through that has 4 connections, and I did - Orlando to Charlotte, to Washington DC, to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and finally to Kilimanjaro, Tanzania. Because of this set-back the ticket lady in Orlando (at 4:00am) had to hand write my final destination on my baggage sticker - JRO. As I looked out the window upon landing in my first destination, Charlotte, I saw the baggage men panic at the sight of my baggage ticket. Waving their arms and pointing at the ticket with looks of confusion, I knew at this point my bag wouldn't arrive in Kilimanjaro. What I didn't know, is that it would spend 3 days in Frankfurt, Germany. Luckily I have a bulldog of a mother who persisted with US airways to find my bag. I ended up renting all my hiking gear, buying toilettries and even undewear at the local Tanzanian market, and was eventually hand delivered my bag to my campsite at 3,720 meters four days after arriving in Africa.

Upon arriving in Tanzania I was picked up by Sampson, a representative for Absolute Africa. He briefed me on the climb, ending his spiel by telling me that vomiting is normal due to the high altitude. I should have listened! The next day I started the 6 day Marangu Route also known as the "Coca Cola Route", considered the easiest of the six possible options. 50% of all travellers use this route because of the "comfortable" mountain huts with solar powered lighting. At the entrance gate I was greeted by my guide William, my two porters and one chef. As the others ran up the mountain carrying all my clothes, food, and gear on their backs (and heads!), I walked leisurely through the initial rainforrest with William until we reached the Mandara Huts at 2,700m. After a hot dinner of cucumber soup, fried bread, curry, rice and fresh fruit, I climbed into my sleeping bag for a good (but cold) nights rest.

The second day I met up with some fellow travellers who became my hiking buddies - Owen from Norway, Ronnie and Patrik from Sweden and Sam from Canada. On day 2 we walked through grassy moorland, eventually ending at the Horombo huts at 3,720m, where there is a real sense of being above the clouds. Apparently altitude sickness is a serious thing when hiking such a high mountain, so not only does your guide repeat the phrase "polle polle" which means "slowly slowly", but I also had to spend 1 extra day at the Horombo huts to help acclimatize.

On day 4 we climbed very gradually through a "lunar desert", eventually ending at the Kibo Hut (4,700m) which sits at the base of the crater! Here we were told to get as much sleep as possible because we were going to start hiking at 12am the following morning. In what seemed like an instant we were woken up with cookies and tea, and set out in the pitch black night to start our ascent. We started in high spirits, singing and laughing, but as things started to get cold (I thought they were cold before, but didn't know what I was in for), I started to lose my spirit. The zig-zag climb over loose volcanic rock was steep and at about 5,500 meters my Kilimanjaro dreams began to crash in on me. (Only 6 days ago I learned that altitude sickness pills exist, but I wish I had known this before I started my climb!!) I began to get a horrible headache, nausea, and was so cold I couldn't move my fingers or toes. As the other members of my group continued up the mountain I was left behind with William, doubled over in pain. After about 4 1/2 hours I ended up making it to Gilman's point, where I proceeded to drink hot tea and then vomit it all over the Gilman ground. My poor guide was rubbing my back and wiping the snot from my nose, while I swore and moaned in pain.

I insisted on continuing and walked the two painful and vomit -filled hours to the summit, just in time for sunrise. It was so cold that my guide William had to take all my pictures because I couldn't get my fingers out of my gloves. But with glowing white ice, glaciers and mountainous peaks in every direction I attempted to shake off my miserable state to take in the scenery. At 5,896m it was glorious. But what was even more glorious was heading back down the mountain! After another 2 days of hiking I arrived back at my hotel this afternoon to a hot shower and hamburgers with my hiking buddies. I have now conquered the highest free standing mountain in the world, and I only cried twice! Woo-hoo!

Today I am off to Arusha to hop on my Safari truck and begin my 60 days down to Capetown.

Thanks for Walking with Me!

2011-03-18T07:40:00.000-07:00

I can’t say that I have been too busy to write my final blog as I am currently “retired”, living with my parents in America’s largest community for active seniors, The Villages. I guess the reason I haven’t written is because I am reluctant to admit my year-long travel trip is over. OVER. The word resonates so heavy with me, like the day you graduate college and know you will never be back there, with your friends, enjoying the good times of youth. And young and free is how I felt, traveling in a circle of people living my same gypsy lifestyle, of openness, warm-welcomes and complete lack of responsibility. I will forever cherish the memories I have made and the people I have met, but more than anything, I know I have returned a changed woman, now seeing myself as just a small part of a very big world.

On my trip I learned so much about myself and the world around me, but the most important thing I learned came from a very simple realization. In Asian countries one of the most popular sayings is “same, same, but different”, which street sellers say to get you to buy their products, even though they are the exact same as the items in the next stall. This simple phrase describes the people of this world. Although we speak differently, look differently and live in completely different cultures, we are all the same at heart. In every country I saw children playing together, families embracing after not seeing each other for long periods of time, people taking care of one another, parents doing all they could to make money for their families. The words of John F. Kennedy sum up my thoughts: “For in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s futures. And we are all mortal.” Despite our differences, we need not be afraid of the world around us. It is a beautiful place.

I figured I would use my final post to answer all of the questions people have about my trip, that way, I can refer them to my blog instead of answering the same questions a million times. So here goes:

How many countries did I visit in total?
14 countries!
They are New Zealand, Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia, Uruguay, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia and Peru.

What was my favorite place?
Each country I visited was amazing in it’s own way, but some places I did enjoy more than others, depending on who I was with and the activities I did. Here are the places I liked the best, and the reasons:
New Zealand: NZ is an ecologically diverse country packed into two small islands, which you can see in a short trip. Friendly people. Lots of extreme sports. Beautiful scenery.
Laos: Although all of Southeast Asia was breathtaking, Loas was less touristy than the other countries. Laid-back people. Avatar-like scenery, with jutting green mountains. Very inexpensive.
Bolivia: The second I drove over the border from Chile to Bolivia, I could see the drastic change in scenery, and it was beautiful. Lots of culture. Beautiful sites to see (salt flats, Lake Titicaca, silver mines, etc.) Very inexpensive.

What was my least favorite place?
Unfortunately Buenos Aires takes the cake for worst place. The bedbugs didn’t help the experience, but I felt the city was overcrowded, busy and lacked uniqueness.

How did I travel around the world without a plan?
Well I did have a plan; the no-plan plan!!!! Still, everyone who intends to backpack the world should invest in a Lonely Planet Guidebook for their specific destination, which gives names of hostels, tourist information sites, and all the important places to visit in each area. I started with a one-way ticket to New Zealand and went from there! There are TONS of travelers doing the same thing, so meeting friends to move throughout a country with is easy. I swear it is!! You can work in Australia for a year until the age of 31, and many Asian countries will offer extended visas to stay there and work (at hostels, restaurants, pub crawls, etc) so if you need extra money along the way, it isn’t difficult to find. Anyone who is interested in traveling the world, should not be afraid (even though I was when I first embarked) because it is the best experience imaginable!!

What was the hardest part about traveling the world?
There were maybe 5 to 10 nights on my trip where I was alone - hadn’t met anyone to travel with or just didn’t feel like making the extra effort to meet someone. Those nights were a little lonely, but tolerable.
The other most difficult part was coming home. I know it sounds strange, but I had more culture shock coming back, then I ever had arriving in a foreign country. I guess seeing the world changes you so much that when you come home and see how good we have it here in the USA, you just cannot feel the same about the American culture. We spend $4 on a coffee, which is a fortune to a family in Cambodia. As I flew in to Orlando from Peru, leaving behind the garbage littered streets and crumbling villages, I was awed by the perfectly pruned gardens and beautiful homes I saw out my window. Most Americans have no idea how lucky they are, and I was filled with gratitude for my life, but sadness for people's lives around the world.

Who were my most memorable people?
Mick from Australia - Duh!! He was my boyfriend for 6 months! I miss my Ozzie!
Rego from England - Even though Rego sleeps late, drinks a lot, and rarely eats regularly, we made great traveling companions!! I miss me ol’ English fruit!
Julie and Lasse from Denmark - When they first met me in Australia, they swore I was drunk. They later learned that I am just crazy. I am actually seeing Julie in NYC in a couple of weeks, which is really exciting!!
Jessie from Australia - She was my roommate through Bolivia and Peru, and I just LOVE this girl!
Metro the Busdriver from New Zealand - He made my 4 weeks in NZ the best!!

Not that any of these people read my blog, but I also loved meeting John from Miami, Karin from Germany, Jodie from Australia, Paulette, Anita and Kate from Tasikoki animal rescue, Stevie from New Zealand, Mel from Canada, Brian from Denmark, Toby from Germany, Mike & Emma from England, Nicki from Holland, Jasper & family from Holland, Don, Derrick and Richard from America, Matt E. from England, Craig from England, and soooooo many more. I now have friends I can visit all over the world!!

What was the price of my trip?
Vaccinations $300
Clothing/Gear $800
Flights $4,000
Other $24,900
TOTAL APPROXIMATE COST FOR TRIP: $30,000 (about $75 per day)

What was the cost?
More wrinkles
A new oval shaped motorbike burn on my right calve
A gap on my resume!

Would I do it again?
In a heartbeat!!!!

What’s next?
I have decided that the last thing I want to do is let the travel bug fly out of my system just because it’s “time” to settle down, so I have decided to save up for another big travel trip. This time it will be to Africa for a 71-day Safari from Nairobi to Capetown with an extra week to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, and an extra month to volunteer at an African school. I am planning on leaving in January 2012, exactly 2 years after my initial departure, and returning home in May 2012. In between now and then I will be working my butt off to save up enough money to fund this African Adventure!!!!!

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR KEEPING UP WITH MY TRAVELS. I HOPE YOU TUNE IN FOR MY NEXT ADVENTURE. AFRICA 2012!!!!

Speed Vacationing in Peru

2011-02-20T14:56:00.000-08:00

Gap Tours doesn't mess around when it comes to jamming entire countries into small amounts of time. I have been so non-stop for the last 2 weeks, that most mornings I wake up having no idea where I am. Albeit I wanted this fast pace trip, because I finally come home in just 7 short days and, of course, I wanted someone else to do all the work (that someone is Alim, our Peruvian tour guide.) Gap has also introduced me to some amazing people, including Jesse my Australia roommate and John, my fellow American who reminds me an awful lot of my cousin Robbie (we are always getting into trouble.) Although most days I feel more like a tourist than a traveller, for anyone who wants to see the world with the typical America's two-week vacation, a tour is the way to go.

Peru is the land of plenty. Although rich in natural resources and major tourist attractions, they still struggle economically, falling victim to governmental corruption. One town in Peru, Arricipa, is so rich in copper that they desperately want their independence, and have gone so far as to create their own currency and legal system, but of course it has never been formally granted. To hike Machu Picchu 4,000 - 5,000 tourists a day pay $50 USD each, but only 2% of that $200,000 a day comes back to preserve the site (after both Lima and Cusco take their cut.) While Peru sells low-cost gallons of natural gas to Canada and the US, they charge their own citizens about 10times that amount. From what I hear, unfortunately, there aren't many Peruvians that actually want to be from Peru. Needless to say, I have loved it so far; it is truly an amazing country.

Our first stop in Peru was to Lake Titicaca. Besides it having a very funny name, it is the largest navigatable lake in the world, with impressively large islands and rich in ancient history. Our first stop was to stay the night with a local family on one of the islands.
We hopped off the boat and walked to the center of the "town", first playing a game of football with the locals (where I nearly died from overexertion in the altitude), and then met our new "mama's and papa's". My new daddy happened to be a 16 year old boy, who brought us back to his small clay hut, where Jessie and I played spoons (a fun card game) with him and his siblings all afternoon. That night we all dressed up like the local people (4 layers of colorful skirts, a cumberbun/corset, black jacket, and a hat your grandpa would wear) and went to the dance hall, where I was aptly nicknamed "payasita" by the locals, which means little clown.

From there we travelled back to Puno, where that night we ate Guinea Pig (its little cooked head and teeth were pretty gross, but it basically tasted like deep fried skin), and then early the next morning headed to Cuzco.
Cuzco is the historical capital of Peru, described as the "Rome of America", and hundreds of years ago was the heart of the Incan empire. With cobblestone streets and a duomo cathedral in the center of town it was an amazing place to spend a couple of days. After a cancelled plane ride to the Amazon Rainforrest I did an afternoon ATV ride through the Peruvian mountains, which ended up feeling more like a game of Mario Kart, as we raced through patches of mud and I nearly got driven off a cliff .

The next day we finally got a cleared flight to the Amazon, and after a bus ride, boat ride, and long walk through the forrest, we arrived at our resort. Despite having no outside walls, no ceilings between rooms and no hot water, the place was high class. The highlights of our two day adventure included pirrahana fishing, a hike through the jungle at night (seeing a massive tarantula, lots of frogs and other bugs), and having spider monkeys right outside my window.

The Lares trek is the "alternative" mountaneous hike to the Inca Trail since unfortunately, the Inca trail is closed for the entire month of February. Almost instantaneously I realized our guide was angry at the world (he kept telling me I asked stupid questions and yelled at me like an angry grade school teacher when I made noise during his 20 hour speeches), but that our porters were amazing; they would set up our camp and tents, then break it down quickly and run ahead of us to have our next spot set up, and in the mornings serve us hot tea in our tents!!
Here is my summation of the Lares Trek: knee-deep mud, rain ponchos, mountains, high altitude, lots of llamas, amazing food, and lots of laughs. After the trek I even had to throw out my 3 month old sneakers, and a pair of socks. Disastrous!

Last, but cetainly not least, was my visit to Machu Picchu. After a night in the town of Aquas Calientes (which literally means hot water), where there ironically was no hot water in the showers at our hotel, we took our 4am bus (with thousands of other people) up to the top of the mountain where the Incas built their civilization 600 years ago. We luckily had the best weather EVER and since it is actually quite big, it never felt overcrowded. Hands down the most amazing sight I have ever seen!! I cannot believe I will be home in less than a week!!

3rd World Country, 1st World Experience

2011-02-04T13:36:00.000-08:00

I can just picture the look of dissapointment on the face of a Miss World contestant when she is told she is the second runner up, which is a fluffy phrase they use so they don't have to let her know that she is actually 3rd place; not first, not second, but dream-breaking 3rd. When it comes to countries, the western world decided to give these same rankings, based on economic development and quality of life, but inadvertantly put into the publics mind that certain countries are just not good enough; the world's second runner up. If I were a judge, I would change the criteria adding culture, character and charisma. It seems the more "economically developed" a country becomes, the more they lose their own culture; the "better" the quality of life becomes, the more they end up just like any other Western world. I was only in Bolivia for 10 days, but it didn't take long for me to realize how spectacular and different a 3rd world country can be. I never felt I was getting the real "South American" experience in Argentina or Chile - they were expensive, people dressed in western style clothes, and you could find a MacDonalds in most cities. Bolivia is culturally different, the local people wear very traditional clothing (top hats, large skirts and multiple layers of colorful wool), the houses are made of mud and straw, and exotic foods and spices are sold on every corner. It may be considered a 3rd world to western cultures, but it is first world in my book.

It is hard to imagine a city that covers an entire valley, with houses perched from the highest peaks to sky scrapers lining the bottom, all of this at a staggering 3,630 meters above sea level - but this is La Paz. It has the feel of a chaotic Asian city with pushy street sellers (selling everything from trinkets to help you find a husband to baby Llama fetuses), a constant stream of beeping vehicles and people everywhere. The rich people live in the valley's center (because they pay more for their oxygen) whilst the poorer people live at the highest altitudes. For the first two days in La Paz I swore I had a brain tumor, as I would wake up in the middle of the night with excruciating headaches, but this is unfortunately just a side affect of altitude sickness. While in La Paz I visited the town center (and stumbled onto a speech being given by the President), took a tourist bus, went to the valley of the moon (not to be confused with the one in Chile - this one is basically large sand spires that you walk through), and haggled with the street sellers for some Alpaca clothing.

After meeting the members of my gap tour (three Ozzie girls, two Scottish guys and one Dutch guy), we flew to Sucre, "the white city" and historical capital of Bolivia, which hundred of years ago was so wealthy from the nearby silver mines, it economically outranked London and France.
After a quick city tour we headed to the markets where we bought up large quantities of toothbrushes, diapers and other miscellaneous items, and spent the afternoon at a local orphanage. The following day I subjected myself to a full 4 hours of mountain biking, which offered beautiful views, but really just left me itchy from the constant vibration, and tired from the 1km uphill bike.

From Sucre we headed to Potosi, with a staggering altitude of 4,070m, where locals still work in silver mines dating back to the Spanish colonial era. Unfortunately it is quite a sad lifestyle, as I saw in the amazing documentary "The Devil's Miner", and witnessed first-hand on a mine tour, where you will see children as young as 11 working in the dark and dust filled caves.
The Bolivian people are very religious and although they believe in Jesus Christ outside of the mines, while underground they worship the devil, making offerings and sacrifices to devil statues found in every mine. The best part of the mine tour was that I got to hold dynamite and amonia nitrate which we gave as a gift to the miners in addition to cigarettes, alcohol and coca leaves (the starting product of cocaine, which the miners chew ALL day long for extra energy.)

Our next stop was to Uyuni, a small, dusty town, which is the jump-off point for the famous Bolivian Salt Flats. The following day we headed out in our convoy of 4x4 vehicles stopping first at another train cemetary and eventually ending up at breathtaking salt flats. White salt and perfectly reflected sky on the flat water (since much of the flats were flooded) stretched out as far as the eye could see. Traditionally people use this scenery to take depth manipulated (and ridiculous) pictures, which of course I did too!
That night we slept in a guest house made entirely of salt; the walls, the floors, the tables and even the beds. We spent the next two days touring the 5,000m scenery including spectacular lagoons, snow-capped volcanoes, desert flats and even some geysers. After a long exhausting trip we hopped on a night bus back to La Paz. Although the trip was only supposed to take 9 hours, in traditional Bolivian style, the trip took about 20 hours, as we had to sleep overnight next to a river that we weren't able to cross in the dark.

I have been in Peru for the last 2 days with a new gap group, (and a 1 day rendevous with Mick!!) and it has been amazing so far. I will post about my Peruvian adventures in a week or so!!

Adios Chile

2011-01-23T17:17:00.000-08:00

Chile stretches 4300KM long, over half the continent of South America, longer than the length from Canada to Mexico, but in most places is only 175KM on average in width. It ranges from glacier fields to the driest desert on the earth, with volcanoes, lakes, valleys, geysers and islands in between. We started off our time in Chile hiking mountains in the freezing area of Patagonia, and finished in the Atacama Desert. It was an amazingly diverse country with very religious people (70% of the country is Catholic) which means lots of churches, confusing road signs, amazing food, and some hysterical images I cannot forget - like the 3 story children's slide at the playground, a telephone pole in a quarry where instead of readjusting the direction of the wires they just dug around the pole, huge christmas trees made out of plastic bottles, a skyscraper that looks exactly like an old Zach Morris cell phone, and llamas walking on the beach. Since I pretty much saw everything there is to see in Chile, I don't think I will be returning in my life, but it certainly was a memorable adventure - it will be missed.

Santiago Chile, is a city I could live in, and a great place to spend 4 days. The architecture is beautiful, the streets are clean, there are several amazingly cute suburbs and the people are friendly. Our hostel, Casa Roja, had a pool, hot tub, and my favorite, a ping pong table where I was able to showcase my talents (and whip Mick's butt each and every time.) We spent the first day cleaning out the van and giving it back (yipee) and hanging around the hostel. The next day we did a "free" walking tour (which after tipping turned into a not-so-free tour) and that night we ate Mote Con Huesillos - a liquid meal the Argentinians love, consisting of peach juice, a half of peach and whole grains of wheat (which was surpringsly tasty.) We took a tour of one of Pablo Neruda's eccentric homes and took a ride to the top of the mountain overlooking santiago for sunset.

The following day we took a bus out to Valparaiso, described as the cultural center of Chile, I would have called it the sketchy center of Chile, or at least most of it.
Since it used to be the main port down the Pacific coast (before they built the panama canal) the "old section" is amazing, and not surprisingly a UNESCO protected site. It is littered with Ascensors (outdoor elevators people used to use to climb up the huge hill which overlooks the bay, and is now ussually used by tourists), clock towers, markets and in the center of town a lot of people looking like they wanted to steal my purse.

We signed up for a 6 day tour to Chile's Atacama Desert, which started the following day, in a white minivan with 6 other international passengers. I was of course, the only American, to which someone said after they heard I have been travelling for a whole year, "how unAmerican of you!." Our first destination was the beachtown of La Serena, Chile's second oldest city, where we ate Empanadas and Mick took a quick dip. That night we headed to the local observatories, where stargazing is at its best, and where you will find the RLT and SLT ("creative" acronyms for Really Large Telescope and Super Large Telescope.) We got to take some amazing pictures of the moon through one of the telescopes and learn about a website where you can stargaze without ever leaving your computer screen - www.stellarium.org.

The next day we travelled hours through the bleak sandy landscape, stopping to see a 4 story ceramic hand planted in the desert by a famous artist (whose name I can't remember), an old cemetary located next to an abandoned nitrate mine (where you can still see flesh on the 70 year old remains because of the lack of humidity), and a "train cemetary" where people left perfectly good trains because the Germans discovered an artifical way to make nitrate. After two nights in the beautiful beach town of Bahia Inglesia, we headed to San Pedro de Atacama, A "brown town" (all the buildings seem to be square and brown) in the heart of the desert. We toured the "valley de luna" (an area which is said to look like the moon), a lagoon where flamingos hang out, and swam in a salt lake which causes you to have such boyances that its like having a life preserver attached all over your body when you jump in.

Mick and I are currently in La Paz, Bolivia. Tomorrow I head off on a 30 day Gap tour through Bolivia and Peru, while he is heading north directly. We hope to meet up again in Lima for a couple of days before I head back home, but in the mean time, I will miss my favorite travel companion!!

A Mobile Home for the Holidays

2011-01-12T06:03:00.000-08:00

Having spent the last 27 Christmases of my life, toasty warm in a family member's home, surrounded by colorful decorations, festive music, and a winter wonderland outside, the view of a trailer park from the window of my van was definitely a change. Luckily I had skype so my electronic floating head could still speak to my nephew Pierce while he opened his gifts, back in his warm living room in Washington CT. I had a love/hate relationship with our Wicked two-seater camper van. The van allowed Mick and I to tour southern Chile and Argentina, and cruise with true freedom through Chile's lake district, the island of Chiloe, and to the coast, before heading to Santiago. We could stop when we wanted to take a picture, leave cities whenever we wanted, and never had any roommates. On the down side, everything we owned was under where we slept so you had to rubix-cube everything to find what you were looking for (which resulted in one blood blister and a lot of cursing), we spent a lot of money on gasoline and food to stock up the van, and let's be honest here, I drove Mick crazy with my horrible front seat driving. But it was an experience of a lifetime, doing things I have never done before, like driving in South America (3 times down one way roads), picking up hitchhikers (6 total!), pulling up to the house of a native Chilean family and living with them for two days, and getting honked at all the time (because apparently the spanish writing on the back of our car said "honk if you like my driving", which until I figured it out, gave me severe road rage.) In the end, I think the freedom was worth the price, but I will be sure to be stationary for Christmas next year!

After 4 days in Ushuaia, the "fin del mundo" (end of the world), which included a boat trip into the Beagle Channel (where while there weren't any canines, there were lots of other wildlife), a day hike to the national park and a day spent touring the Maritime museum (because Mick loves boats as much as my father), we headed to Punta Arenas, Chile to pick up the van.
From there we did a solid two days of driving, taking three hour shifts, arriving in Barlioche, Argentina on Christmas Eve. The central region of Argentina and Chile (not coincidentally known as The Lakes Distrcit on the Chilean side) is picturesque, with beautiful blue lakes, surrounded by snow capped mountains (but most are actually volcanoes!) Each town emminates the feeling of a Swiss ski village, with quaint shops and log cabin bungalows and hotels. In Bariloche we had our Christmas dinner at a fondue restaurant, watched a movie on my laptop, and went to bed.

From Bariloche we headed a couple of hours west to Villa la Angostera, which had a similar feel to Bariloche but was all encompassed in a one street town. Here we did a 24KM hike into the Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes to see the forest of arrayane trees, which basically look like trees in camoflague, and we sat on the shores of the beautiful Lago Nahuel Huapi. Entre Lagos was just over the border into Chile, and at this point huge volcanoes were so common, they nearly faded into the background.
We spent two days here, camping by a lake and one day at the thermal pools. Much to my dismay, we spent an afternoon fishing, and even though I didn't want to go in the first place, I was the only one who brought home a Salmon to eat for dinner (much to Mick's dismay.)

After a full day drive through the mountains, and some large cities (for Chile) like Puerto Varas and Puerto Mott, we pulled onto our ferry heading to the Island of Chiloe. The humble Chilote people were never an ally of the mainlanders, so their culture is unique. The island is well known for its numerous inglesias (churches) made completely of wood (some of which are over 200 years old), fishing villages and curanto (a dish of poultry and shell fish vapor-smoked in giant leaves and moss.)
We decided to immerse ourselves in the culture by staying the night with a local family through Chiloe's agrotourism program. At 9:30 in the morning we pulled up to one of the homes on our list, and were greeted by Jardi, who we later referred to as Papa. He brought us into his home, sat us down, and woke up Mama. They chatted in Spanish to us at light speed, and we did the best we could to make conversation. Mick, who knows zero spanish, became the family joke because he would always smile and say "no entiendo", which means "I don't understand." Jardi took Mick into town to buy a sheep, while I stayed with Mama and their daughter Carol to cook lunch for 5 other tourists coming later that day. We couldn't have felt more at home after two full days with our new Chilean family, where we helped them cook a curanto, move the cows to different paddocks, and even spent New years Eve with their family being kissed by more people than at my own family events!! The highlight of the stay was when Mama Maria told Mick that when he had been saying what he thought meant "I want a little" he had actually been saying "I want a little penis." Probably one of the funniest (and finally clear) moments between 4 people who has so previously struggled to understand eachother!!

After 4 nights in Chiloe, we headed northwest to Baldivia, a college town, right on a lake where we took a boat ride to an old spanish fortress and watched the sea lions prowl at the fish market. From there we went directly to Pucon, an amazingly fun town located directly next to the 2,847 meter Volcan Villarrica.
When I looked up at this snow covered volcano, spitting hot hair into the sky, looming in the background of every photo, I never would have imagined I would be climbing it the next day, but I was. Although we received severe wind warnings that morning, I encouraged the other people in our group to climb anyway (because we needed 7 people to make the trek), and after some arm-twisting they conceded. The first hour was a tough hike up dirt and loose gravel (because the chair lift was closed due to the wind), and the remaining 4 hours required an ice pick to hike up the nearly vertical snow covered face, until we finally reached the summit. Being at the top of a volcano is kind of like being on the moon, minus the lack of gravity; the sulfur smelling air burns your lungs, smoke fills the air, and the rocks and molten lava are strange colors and shapes.
The views out were amazing of the neighboring lake and yet another volcano. The best part of the entire hike was the way down, where we got to slide down ice luge paths with plastic seats we had carried with us the entire way. 5 hours up, 1 hour down, and the new best way to travel. Also in Pucon I did a white water rafting trip, while Mick spent the morning fly fishing.

Our last stop before heading to Santiago (where we are now), was the coastal town of Pichilemu. Known worldwide for its left break it is a popular beach town and serious surf spot. Mick spent one day surfing while I played the role of the surfer's "beach babe", and the next day we just walked around the town. So far we are loving Chile. From here we head north to Atacama Desert and then onto Bolivia!!

Patagonia; Not Just the Name of my Fleece

2010-12-17T09:03:00.000-08:00

If you had asked me a year ago what "Patagonia" was, I would have said a pretty typical American answer, "a high-end outdoor clothing company?" Well today I know better. After having spent the last 3 weeks in Southern Argentina and Chile, in the actual Patagonia (and I imagine what the clothing company named their brand after) I have a whole different perspective on the word. Even though it is summer here, the temperatures are cold, the winds are brutal, and the snow is prevalent. The sun sets each day between 10:30 and 11:00pm, and rises around 4:00am. Sometimes we felt we were in the most plush ski town of Switzerland, and sometimes we would comment that we must be in Bahgdad with the barren, desert-like landscapes (minus the heat.) Despite all these things, Patagonia has been by far the best place I have seen so far in South America; with tons of wildlife like whales, sea lions, penguins, condors, guanacos (they look like llamas, and spit like them too), amazingly beautiful snow capped mountains, glaciers and ice fields, aqua colored lakes in every valley, and the most amazing hikes I have ever been on. If you can brave the weather, Patagonia is definitely a place to visit!

Three days in the coastal town of Puerto Madryn was too many. A city surrounded by sandy and barren landscapes, is the gateway to the Valdes Penninsula, where for 400 Pesos ($100USD) we went on a day trip, whale watching and to see penguin and sea lion colonies. On the second day we tried to take a 17km bike ride, but once we left the city and entered "Baghdad", we had more sandstorms than my eyes could handle. Mick wanted to press on for the adventure factor (as always), but I insisted we turn around, and still ended up pulling sand out of my hair for the next week.

We then took a bus to Gaiman, a Welsh colonized town thats claim to fame is serving Welsh teas and biscuits, and since we arrived during the Siesta hours (1pm-4pm) the only thing left to do was sleep in the park, until a places opened up, and then food was definitely eaten! We then headed to Rio Gallegos, where no pictures at all were taken, because there was nothing eventful to see. Apparently Butch Cassidy robbed a bank here back in the day, probbaly because no one would have noticed him.

After a night in Rio Gallegos, our next stop was El Calafate. This touristy town, by all apearrances, should have several ski resorts nearby, but it doesn't. The main street is lined with souvenier shops, restaurants, and disneyesque log cabin buildings. At the edge of town is the beautiful Laguna Nimez, a wetlands sanctuary surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and attached to an inlet lake with a beach. This was worth the 20 pesos. The following day we took a day trip to the Glaciar Perito Moreno, located 80km away in the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares. What a strange experience to come over a hill and see the biggest chunk of ice you'll ever see, resting on a lake. Floating in the water nearby are massive blue ice cubes that break off while you watch, and take only a few days to melt away; so each day the glacier is different. We took an up close boat ride, and then walked around the viewing platforms, waiting anxiously to catch a break (literally, waiting to watch ice break off the Glacier) which only happend a few times during the day.

We spent three days in El Chalten, a remote town 2 hours north of El Calafate, described as the trekking capital of Patagonia. Fortunately we had the BEST weather, and set out for a 6 hour hike the first afternoon we arrived. After several hiking games ("movies starring Bruce Willis", the Name game, the shopping list memory game, etc.) and lots of beautiful scenery, we came to the base of a mountain, with a massive glacier resting on a lake. The wind was so strong that I could barely stand, and birds were getting thrown around in the wind, but it was breathtaking (literally, it was hard to breathe.)

The next day we did an 8 hour hike to the Fitz Roy range, where after a long 3 hours, the trail went completely uphill for the last hour. It was exhausting, but as we climbed into the center of these two mountains, below was the most beautiful glacier pools - hands down one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. The third day was spent resting, and since it was snowy and cold, we didn't mind!

THE W TREK
After talking to some girl at a hostel weeks ago about it, Mick decided he wanted to do the W trek in the Torres del Paine national park in Chile.
When I agreed I didn't know exactly what I had gotten myself into, but after a scarily blunt introduction lecture from a local guy in Puerto Natales (the jump-off point for all hikers) I realized I was in for 5 days of pain (pun intended.) He said to expect 160kmh winds, torrential snow and rain, and hours of tiresome hikes. We packed up our backpacks with 5 days worth of food, cooking gear, sleeping bags, a tent, and limited clothing all packed up tight in trash bags, and even got lame hiking poles (which turned out to be amazingly helpful) and set out for the mountains. Luckily we had amazing weather, and met some really great people along the way. This was by far the most amazing experience of my life.

Here is a run-down of our 5 days:
Number of miles hiked: 62
Number of times I fell down: 8
Number of times I got blown over by the wind: 2
Number of granola bars consumed: 38
Number of showers taken: 0
Number of times we used a whole salami stick as a substitue for butter in our dinner: 1

After arriving back at the main lodge on the 5th day, we ate our moneys worth at a buffet breakfast, and vegged out for the rest of the day.

Now we are currently in the southern most city in the world, Ushuaia Argentina for 4 days!!

Get back in the Saddle

2010-11-29T10:58:00.000-08:00

Some people will tell you that when you fall off a horse, you need to get back on. Most use it as a metaphoric rally for encouragment, a way to say "no matter what, never give up". Well I am pretty sure most of the people who say this have never ACTUALLY fallen off a horse, because if they have, they would know that it's not that easy to get back on, especially if the horse is bleeding, missing a horseshoe and kind of pissed off. A Thanksgiving day horseback riding adventure through a small town just outside Cordoba, was an amazing experience. We began by drinking the traditional Argentinian drink, Mate, which according to history was created by the Gaucho (an Argentinian Cowboy) who, having very little money, picked the leaves and shared this new drink, and long conversations, with the travellers he'd meet on the "road". Then after some cheeky conversations with our guide, Marcello, he said "I know which horse I am going to give you", with a laugh (although I'd like to think the crash was just coincidence.) All my years of owning our childhood horse, April Fools my Pepsi Pony, and taking riding lessons came flooding back to me; it was a breeze (and besides these horses are trained to just follow one another anyway, lets be honest here.) We went through the barren hills, waving to homes as we passed, through the rocky terrain and even forged through the river twice. On a fairly routine climb up a rock path, my horse went to follow Marcello's, but instead put its foot directly into a rock crevice, got stuck, went to put its other leg up, and began to lose its balance. At this point as the horse begins to roll to the left, I did what Mick (who was behind me) called "a ninja roll" off the front - abonding ship before my little pony took a pretty nasty spill down the rocks. After watching in what I could only describe later as a big tree, falling hard, and of course realizing that I was unscratched, I cried out "oh no, the poor horse. In the end, she has a lot of bleeding on her legs, and over her eye, but I got back on the horse (because I knew they wouldn't have created that saying for nothing), and finished my amazing journey. When we got back, instead of turkey we had a gluttonous Argentinian BBQ, where I ate so much steak and bread from the grill, that I felt at one with my fellow stuffed American people.

After Port Iguazu, and a 20 hour bus ride, where I had more bad luck of a shockingly soaked bag, which stunk for almost a week after arrival, we got into Cordoba. Our first day we thought it was a ghost town, but turns out it was just a national holiday.On our second day we took a 1/2 hour bus ride to Alta Gracia, the hometown of the well-known freedom fighter Che Gueverra. By the time we got off the bus, it was around lunchtime, and we couldn't believe the ghost town we found, again! Through my broken spanish I figured out that Siestas (afternoon rests) are not a myth; this entire town shuts down from 1-4.Apparently it is quite common all over South America, so now there is actually an excuse for my overhwhelming find food NOW sense of urgency, so we get something to eat before everyone retreats to their homes. Another thing that is funny about South America is that it is filled with what I call "classics" - really old cars, some I remember from back in the 80's and some that I have never seen, but it does make for a great game of punchbuggy. While in Alta Gracia we also visited a beautiful old Jesuit building that had been turned into a museum about Alta Gracia, which was possibly the most boring museum ever, even more so since we couldn't understand any of what they were saying.

On our third day in Cordoba we checked out a couple of museums, and took a walking tour to see all the other sites. The city population is made up of mostly college students which makes for a great vibe - lots of hopping bars, restaurants and shops on every corner. In between the modern architecutre are the most beautiful spanish churches, some made of stucco and some of stone, but enough to finally make me feel like I am really in "South America." That night we followed the young guy who works at our hostel, Phillippe, to his college to watch a final presentation him and his classmates were performing on traditional Argentinian practices. They fed us free empanadas (delicious dough filled with different kinds of meat) and danced the Folklore. They loved our attempts at speaking spanish and laughed at our dancing skills, when we tried to partake.
After a day on the horses, the next day we decided to go on a trek to the Parque Nacional Quebrada Del Condorito, where we hoped to catch a glimpse of some Condors (as you might has deduced from the name.) We picked up a new dutch friend, Jasper, and boarded a local bus. Before we got on we asked the bus driver if this would take us to the park, and he said yes. As we climbed steadily into the Argentinan hills, going further and further into the middle of nowhere, the bus abruptly pulled over, the driver waved at us, told us to get off, and we couldn't help but think that this must be the wrong place. We literally were at the end of a dirt rode going into the middle of nowhere, thinking that all the locals were having a good laugh as they peeled away. In the end we hiked for 2 1/2 hours into the national park and got to see amazing landscape and lots of Condors, and a bus actually picked us up on its way back into the city.

After another 20 hours bus trip we are currently in Port Madryn, Argentina, in the area known as Patagonia. It's barren, cold, expensive and filled with lots of wildlife!! Will keep you updated on our trip south to the "End of the World."

If only we could dance like no one's watching

2010-11-22T12:42:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things about visiting my parents in The Villages, a colossal city of "active-adults" awkwardly transplanted in the middle of central hicksville Florida, is going to one of the town squares around 5:00pm when the festivities begin, and do so this early because everything closes at 10pm, apropos to the age group. Everynight, rain or shine, a band blares music from the gazebo, sometimes oldies, sometimes classic rock, but it always draws a crowd, and this is when the old folks come out to dance. Whether it is a bunch of women square dancing, the local dance club doing the electric slide, or an adorably old couple decked out in beautiful attire dancing the tango, it is a sight. It always leaves me wondering, what has happened to dancing? Hundreds of years ago, a dance hall is where you would meet your husband, and up until a few decades ago people's nightlife centered around the foxtrot, the waltz or the hand jive. Today if people say they are going dancing, it means getting as drunk as possible and sweating on eachother in a dimly lit room. After our first salsa lesson in Montevideo, Uruguay Mick and I left wondering; when we get home, where can we do this dance without people making fun of us? Wouldn't it be great to have organized dancing again? I think so.

After Buenos Aires Mick and I headed to (as my friend Timmy used to like to say in his travel blog) a "UNESCO protected site" called Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. The Portuguese founded Colonia in 1680 to smuggle goods across the Rio de la Plata into Buenos Aires, and it still has all its historic charm.The old town is a small peninsula surrounded by the ocean, with cobblestone streets, an old lighthouse, and charming tile-and-stucco homes.

Unfortunately we spent our first afternoon there searching for an ATM that worked, and after a few hours of panic and conversations about what are we going to eat without any money (and a lecture to Mick from the newly nicknamed "The General" (yours truly) about how it is important to have a back-up plan), I exchanged a $100 bill and we went out to eat.

The next day we rented bicycles and rode along the coast to get out of the main tourist area. All along the sidewalk were locals sipping their national drink, Mate, a ceramic mug filled with what looks like oregano (but tastes like a green tea on steroids), a metal straw coming out the side (with a filter on the bottom) and a large thermos filled with hot water, which they pour in every couple of minutes. It isn't exactly a practical drink to carry around, but every single group had their Mate (hundreds), some even with special Mate carrying cases.

On our bike trip we saw an old bull ring shut down by the government decades ago, stopped in at an horse racing ring where I tried to feed an angry horse an apple (which provided Mick with much entertainment, as it began to kick and I subsequently ran away as fast as I could), and sat near the beach while reading his and her books. Later that night we took an evening stroll through the beautifully lit old town.

Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, was next on our sites. After a 2 hour bus ride we arrived at the bus station and I used by Spanish skills to ask "cual numero autobus necessito viejar de el cuidad?". Ok so to any real Spanish speaking people, that probably makes no sense, but basically I was asking which bus do we take to get into the city. After the intial question people seemed to think I knew Spanish, and would answer a million words per minute. As we walked away Mick would say "well, what did they say?", to which I would answer, "I have no idea." We continued this same process with 5 or 6 people, and eventually seeking to have an "adventure" Mick wanted to try and walk. So 1 hour and 40 minutes later with our heavy backpacks on and the feeling of murdering someone, we arrived at our Hostel.

The next day we walked all around Montevideo which we thought was pretty dirty, with garbage everywhere and the constant smell of urine (or so Mick thought). We checked out the Plaza Independence, the Mercado del Puerto (housing a bunch of cute restaurants), an old jail that had been turned into a shopping center, and ate lunch at a craperia (like crapes, not crap). The city's redeeming quality was how laid back it was. It seemed none of the shops opened up until later in the day, and everyone worked to live, instead of the other way around. People moved slow. Cars let you walk across the street with a nice wave. It was completely chill.

That night we took our salsa lesson. During the warm-up we were like two escaped monkeys, jumping around in the back of the room. Everytime the group would turn around and see us I would be embarrassed and want to leave, but then one of the teachers spent the entire lesson teaching us the basics. And it turned out to be a ton of fun!!

After another night in Buenos Aries, and an 18 hour bus ride, we arrived in Port Iguazu Argentina, the gateway to Igazu falls. Since the bedbugs had returned and wrecked havoc on my body, out first job was to exterminate, by dunking all my clothes in boiling water. Then we spent an entire day checking out the falls, and it was completely breathtaking!!! We hiked down to the bottom, across the top, and did a 6K walk to the "Devils Mouth", where the water debris can be seen hundreds of meters away, and the noise sounds like an oncoming freight train. We even payed an extra $50 to see the falls in a full-moon walk. There are no pictures to prove it (since it was pretty dark) but the whole experience was magical.

Last night we took a 20 hour bus ride to Cordoba where we will stay for about 5 days!

Buenos Aires? I think Malo Aires!

2010-11-14T08:45:00.000-08:00

For those of you not so Spanish inclined (Mick), Bueno in Spanish means "good", and Malo means "bad", and even though I googled Aires, I don't think it menas anything in English. So after having spent 3 days in the Argentinan capital, Buenos Aires, I have decided to rename it, with a more negative connotation. For my faithful readers, you know that I have NEVER written anything bad about travelling, cities, or my experience on the road (so far anyway), and would tell just about everyone I know to sell their posessions and head off into the world. So to what do I owe this new found negativism?; maybe i can blame it on 3 months in a cozy apartment (without living out of a backpack, owning lots of clothes, and eating Mick-cooked meals nearly everynight), or maybe it is just the Buenos Aires Experience I have had so far, but either way I am hoping my desire to "go home" leaves as quickly as my departure out of this city.

Getting out of Melbourne was sad, more so for me than for Mick, as I had about $600 worth of clothing and shoes that I had accumulated over the 3 months, that I was devestated to donate to some ungrateful people, and the "Sophie's Choice" process of consolidating the rest to fit into my backpack was shockingly pathetic. But after all was said and done we hopped on the plane, first with an 8 hour flight to Kuala Lampur, a 5 hour layover, a 12 hour flight to Capetown, a 2 hour layover, and a 10 hour flight to Buenos Aries.

Plane productivity included: 5 sleeping tablets, several hours of coma induced sleep interrupted only by the passing of a food cart (no matter what hour in the morning or night) two episodes of Glee, all of Braveheart, an episode of the office, all of the 3rd Twighlight move (which I have no idea what it was called, but I am definitely on Team Edward), some heated Tetris battles against Mick, 200 pages of "The Girl who kicked a Hornet's Nest", and LOTS of amazingly good airplane food (Malaysian Air food seriously kicks butt).

Upon arrival I cracked out my spanish skills to ask when the next bus will leave and how much a ticket is. I didn't really understand their response (which seems to be the trend), but I looked pretty impressive in front of Mick. We then began our nearly 1 hour walk (with my 25lb bag, and 10lb purse) to find a place to stay. Eventually we settled for the Goya hotel, which although it boasted a particularly impressive breakfast spread in the morning, was nothing special for nearly $60 a night. Since we arrived at 12:30pm Buenos Aires time, and 2:30am Australia time, we forced ourselves to stay awake, by walking around the city looking for a cheaper hostel to stay in the following night. After a quick meal, we were passed out by 8:30 BA time.

The next morning we hopped on a big yellow, open top, double-decker, tourist trap, I mean bus, to begin our 2 1/2 hour loop around the city. Buenos Aires doesn't have the chaos of the asian cities, nor the motorbikes or constant beeping, but it does still have a lot of traffic (including a 14 lane highway running through the center of the city), and lots of people selling you things. As we walk down Florida avenue people are selling tickets to Tango shows, city tours, money exchange (because we all want to exchange our money with some sketchy guy on the corner), leather jackets and dinner deals. They speak spanish to you, which reminds me that I don't stand out like sore thumb, as I did in Asia. The downtown street is lined with shops selling clothes, gifts and books, and of course lots of Macdonalds, Burgerkings, Subways and other Western shops.

Buenos Aires is split up into 12 districts and thanksfully the tourist bus showed us some of the more cultural sites and buildings, and some of their beautiful architecture (which ussually has some sort of graffiti on it.)

We hopped off the bus in the area called "La Boca" which sits on an inlet of water (which is really more polluted brown sludge), and although it was very touristy, the colorfully painted building facades and paper machete characters from Argentinan history coming out of building windows and standing in doorways was nothing but fun. We then got off at the "Reserva Ecological" which is a large ecological preserve, where people bike, run and one group (clearly of westerners) bird watch.

The real reason we got off here wasn't to enjoy nature; the promenade was lined with churizo stands that looked amazing, and I was hungry. We then went then drove through the ritzy area and hopped off near the Japenese and botanical gardens, taking a quick stroll through.

That night we got back to our hostel, grabbed some yogurts from the grocery store, since the pork-churizo from lunch was still lining my stomach, and spent our first night apart in 3 months sleeping in seperate dorm rooms.

After spending the morning planning our upcoming days, and finding another place to stay for the night, we walked to the train station, and headed to Tigre, a place where apparently the more affluent Argentians spend their weekends. Although the area was nice, we didn't find anything special. The inlets of water, a common rowing area, was again brown sludge and the screams of the local amusement park could be heard. We had a walk around the small town, a bite to eat, and a lie on the grass and called it a day.

Ok, so you are probably wondering why I don't like Buenos Aries. Here goes:

1.) Well first off it is expensive, some things are more expensive than Australia! A night in a 6 bed dorm is $15, a 200g box of cereal is about $6, a meal is $15-$20, a bus ticket is $100+ dollars and the list goes on. I had assumed things would be cheap, and they aren't!!!

2.) On our second night we stayed at a hostel in seperate dorm rooms. When I first climbed into my bed, I pulled up the covers and noticed a little black bug in the sheets. I flicked it down onto the bed below me (which some spanish girl had stolen from me, even though my stuff was on it already). I fell asleep but had an itchy sleep for the next couple of hours. At about 2am, I woke up and with my flashflight found them. Black bugs on my pillow and in my sheets, little baby black bugs crawling all over everything. I started smashing the babies, leaving blood splatter all over the sheets. At this point I couldn't switch rooms, so I dealt with it, by turning my flashlight on every time I felt something and either killing it, or looking like a crazy person when there was nothing there. I have stayed at some sketchy places, all over the world, but never had an experience like this. Needless to say I got very little sleep, and an immediate hatred for Malo Aires.

3.) Everything is booked! In Asia, I could navigate on the no plan plan, and roll up to place without a reservation. Here all the hostels are booked, and if you don't book 5-6 days in advance, you are going to spend your days looking for a place to say, which we did. On the first day we went to a hostel to check it out, and as we left Mick goes "this is what you call a DIVE". Little did we know that two days and 200 bed bugs later, we would be crawling back to The Dive begging for a room, which turned out to be fine.

4.) There aren't a lot of travellers. Everyone in Asia on the very clear backpacker route, was from Europe, spoke English and wanted to make friends with you. Here, most of the people in hostels are from South America and just staying in the hostel because it's cheap. Which doesn't make for a great atmosphere.

5.) There are random holes in the road (one of which I fell into) dog poop everywhere, graffitt on everything (including many historical buildings) and the city is dirty. Now as we walk down the street we yell "hole" or "poop" depening on what it is we need to avoid.

6.) The food isn't great. Granted we have been eating at the middle of the road priced restaurants, but one night I ordered a waldorf salad, and they brought out a chopped up apple, 2 walnuts and some celery, with creme on the side? We ordered a pizza last night and there was so much cheese on it, I am surprised we didn't go into immediate cardiac arrest. Maybe there are some good Argentian restaurnts around, but we can't find them? The one place that looked good, was about $40 a plate.

Well enough negativity. Yesterday we arrived in Uruguay, or "U R GAY" as Mick likes to call it. I will write more about it in a couple of days, but lets just say, I no longer want to pack up my things and head back to the USA! Uruguay is great!

Mick, The Boonies and An American Experience

2010-10-11T17:34:00.000-07:00

I recently got back to Melbourne from a 5-day adventure to "the boonies" (a word I got to teach to my new Australian friends), travelling to Port Rickaby Australia, in the state of South Australia (I bet you didn't know Australia had states; there are 6 of them!) My boyfriend Mick, who I met in Vietnam 3 months ago, grew up in this farm town herding cows, harvesting cereals, sheering sheep, dirt-biking on the beach, and chasing kangaroos. To those of you who didn't know about Mick, I apologize. I figured it needed to stand the test of time (at least 2 months) before I announced it to my worldwide audience. For those of you who are interested, here is what Chuck Woolrey would say about him if we were on The Love Connection: "Mick is a 28 year old pharmacist, who loves olives, economics, Australian Footie and sailing. He is 5'11", with big blue eyes, longish curly blonde hair and an abnormally large mouth (think Mick Jagger here folks). He is a Libra who always thinks before he speaks and weighs the scales before he makes a decision. And even though Mick looks like an Australia surfer, don't be fooled Ladies, he is a smarty pants, graduating as the valedictorian of his senior high school class!"

When I stepped off the plane in Adelaide I was greeted by Mick's smiling parents Mark and Leonie, and escorted to his baby, a white 2006 Ford XR8 Boss outfitted with tinted windows and "Aussie Pride" seat covers. Mick's mom is the principal of the local school and his dad is a 4th generation farmer; Mick is the youngest of three brothers, his oldest brother Tommy has now become the 5th generation. I had told Mick I grew up in the "country", but I guess being 1 1/2 hours from New York City isn't the same as the York peninsula, a Italy shaped boot off the coast of Southern Australia. For 2 hours we drove farther and farther into the countryside, with rolling green fields in every direction sometimes spattered with the little white fluffy sheep or bigger slow moving cows, and the blue ocean in the distance.

At last we arrived in "town" - one road lined with a supermarket, and several other shops. In the center is a war monument where 10 different "Crosers" are honorably listed (Croser is Mick's last name), in the town museum is the "Croser Collection"; antique farm tools donated by Mick's grandfather, and practically the whole town waves to us as we drive through. Another 10 minutes out of town is the farm, on 3,000 acres of cereal (when they told me this originally I got pretty excited, I love cereal, but they meant Wheat, Barley, Beans, etc.), and grazing paddocks for the 1,000+ sheep and cows. At the edge of their farm land are rolling sand dunes, covered in different colored bushes and spiky plants, and then what Mick calls "his beach", with white sand and bright blue waters, running for miles along his property; and since it isn't accessible except by motorbike, there is rarely ever anyone there.

His father's 25 year collection of what I called "modern art" is strewn around the house and barn - old farming equipment, old cars, and even an old treadmill buried in the ground! With three sailboats, a motorbike, tons of tractors, a 4x4 landcruiser called Slug, a yute (half sedan, half truck) and even a 16-wheeler on site, I knew this was going to be a fun couple of days!

Mick, Pop, Tommy and I immediately headed out to play 9 holes of golf (because I wanted to show off my skills). Since golf is a winter sport here in Australia, and it is now spring, we got the place all to ourselves, with the exception of the occasional blue tongued lizard. Instead of greens they use black tar circles which they freshen up with used motor oil - kind of strange.

Although I didn't win the NAGA award, which they give to the worst player (the acronym stands for "Not A Golfer's A**hole"), but after my first (and only) amazing shot I did spend most of the day searching for my lost balls in the woods. Luckily Mick was pretty bad too. That night Leonie cooked up steaks the size of my head (literally), mashed potatoes and salad, and a delicious cheesecake, to which we subsequently went food comatose on the couch to a VHS of Dances with Wolves.

The next morning we headed out in Slug for a crop inspection, where we drove around the fields looking at the different plantings and talking about them. We talked about the difference between last year and this years crops, how the weather has affected the growth, what the number of little things on the sides of the stalks mean, and how to properly put the nitrogen back into the soil. Well, the crops didn't look so different to me, and after a couple of hours, I fell asleep on Mick's shoulder in the front seat.

I had decided the day before on the car ride to the farm, when I learned they didn't have any horses, that I was going to ride a sheep - why not? So after my snooze, Mark woke me up and pointed to about 100+ sheep, one of which was lying down, facing the other direction. I tried sneaking up on him, but in the last minute he looked up at his buddies running in every direction and figured it out. After what felt like marathon sprinting without even a touch of wool I realized I had failed, at least this time. We then drove past the sand dunes and spotted some kangaroos, so we jumped the fence and chased after them, until we reached the top of the sand dunes overlooking the ocean. Amazing. I just couldn't believe someone grew up in a place as beautiful as this!

The next morning, Pop banged on the bedroom door telling me "it was my chance to ride a sheep". They recently purchased 300 sheep that were being delivered in 15 minutes. I threw on some pants and a wool sweater (maybe I would fit in better?) and went to the paddock. As the 300 sheep poured off the 16-wheeler into the small enclosure I thought, no problem, this should be easy. Needless to say, the sheep didn't like me, and anytime I got close they parted like the red sea to Moses. Finally Mick grabbed one, pinned it down and I got to sit on it, but it wouldn't stand up. So in the end, I guess I never actually rode a sheep, but I did sit on one! Just doesn't sound as glamorous, does it?

Even though the weather wasn't perfect, it was better than the frigid temperatures we had been having in Melbourne (the coldest September in 20 years!) One day was so warm that we took Slug down to the beach and lay out on towels for the day, enjoying the beach all to ourselves. On another day we drove about an hour to the southern tip of the boot called Corny point, where we took photos of the beautiful lighthouse, jutting cliffs and peaceful beaches. One another day we hopped on the motorbike and corralled a flock of sheep and cows into another paddock - I felt like a cowboy, just with a mechanical horse!

The trip to the country was amazing, both relaxing and adventurous. Leonie fed us like royalty and Pop thoroughly entertained us. This was the longest Mick's family had ever really spent with an "Yank", and when I asked Mick's dad if he would ever want to go to America, he replied "Why, I've already had my American Experience, this whole weekend!" So hopefully they had as much fun with me as I did with them. In just 30 short days Mick and I are off to South America. Ole!

Back to Australia, Back to an unfriendly Reality

2010-08-28T22:07:00.000-07:00

As I commuted "home" today, business suit-clad and bundled up, on the Melbourne city tram, listening to head phones to drowned out the background noise and slightly wet from the seemingly constant cold rain, exhausted from my 8:45am-5:15pm job as an Executive Assistant, I got excited. Sitting next to me was someone reading a South America Lonely Planet; the bible. Too many times in my travels I would bump into people reading the bible, and befriend them over conversations about the best restaurants, guesthouses, or just simple directions, only to find out that they are going the same way I am going, and immediately we would become best buds. Well the girl on the tram didn't share my excitement, said "yeah" a few times, and proceeded to get off at the next stop. It was then that I began to realize that people in the "normal" world just aren't very friendly. As I rush to my tram and shuttle through city life, passing other people in all black outfits, I feel like I am attending a fast moving funeral, but there isn't a body. Why is it so hard to smile at someone else, or have a welcoming conversation? People are too busy playing with their iPhones, reading their electronic books or are most of the time, just blatantly avoiding you, and in doing so are missing what makes us human - connections. It is unbelievable how beautiful the world is, not only because of the beautiful mountains or beaches or other scenery's, but because of the people I have met. And it all started with a simple smile and a hello. The quote on my daily calendar today ironically read: Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing. – Mother Teresa

I have only been back in Australia for a little over two weeks, but already I am going through travelling withdrawals. As my tan peels away and my body freezes in the Melbourne weather, I realize how much I miss Asia: the chaotic driving, the kind smiley people, (and even the pestering salespeople) sticky rice, noodle soup, cheap accommodation, but especially the other travellers. After I left Tasikoki Wildlife Center I headed to the island of Bunkanen off the northern coast of Sulawesi Island, Indonesia.

I didn't really know what to expect, except that another traveller, who I can't even remember now, had told me along the way that the scuba diving there was beautiful, so I had written the word "bunaken" down on a piece of paper and decided to venture there. I had accidentally left my lonely planet on the airplane so I went to the first guesthouse near the boat dock.

As it turned out, Bunaken did have the most amazing scuba diving i have ever seen, but what it didn't have was a lot of people. Luckily in the two rooms next to me were a dutch family of 5 who "adopted" me for the week and pretty much let me tag along in everything the did, play in every board game they played, and ultimately probably thought I was stalking them, when we coincidentally shared the same outgoing flight to Jakarta.

The highlights on my time in Bunkanen consisted of a "dolphin watch" tour, which turned out to be more than I ever expected, as literally hundreds of dolphins dove, flipped and swam around us; when some friends I had met came back from their fishing trip and had caught a 300lb black marlin, which tasted delicious too; and of course because the sheer coral wall which surrounded the island was so amazingly beautiful, I scuba dove 4 times.

I had to spend one slightly scary night alone in the city of Manado before my flight to Australia. When I say scary, I just mean that Manado, a city on the northern tip of Sulawesi Island, isn't a place spoiled by tourism, so I was clearly the only white person for miles. Not to mention my hotel room had mildew on the walls, smelt of cigarettes, didn't have one window, and had the type of bed I knew I was going to get bedbugs from, so I sat at the desk chair for hours. In the streets, people would stop me and say "my friend" and ask me questions about where I am from, and others would just point or laugh. I did a good amount of shopping, buying up cheap clothes before I head back to expensive OZ, and then retreated back to my hotel room. The next morning I met up with my Dutch family at the airport and hung out with them until we parted in the Jakarta airport. I had my last cheap massage and boarded my plane.

I have heard Melbourne is a great city, in the summer. What I didn't realize as I got off the plane in my flip-flops (Australians call them thongs) and a tank-top (these are called vests) is that I had arrived in the middle of winter. I still haven't come up with some masterful equation to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, but its around 13degrees Celsius everyday, which required me to spend a ton of money on boots (maybe I should change my blog to walkamileinmywinterboots?), jackets, gloves, etc. I did quickly got a studio apartment in a suburb called St. Kilda, and started a temp job in the business district of the city. I am still getting used to the Australian sayings like, "too easy", "how ya going" and "heaps", and the expensive cost of just about everything. I have been to an Australian footy game which is a combination of soccer, rugby and American football, and out to dinner a couple of times, but for the most part have been trying to save money.

Although it is nice to be settled for more than a couple of days in a westernized culture, I am eager to get back on the road. Only 3 more months and I am on to South America. Wooo hooo!!!

Cleaning up the World's Mess, One Shovel at a Time

2010-08-02T14:58:00.000-07:00

If you'd asked me a couple of months ago I would have said "you couldn't pay me enough to shovel bear poop", so today I am wondering why I paid to scoop up a poo-trifecta of bear, monkey and bird droppings!! "Volunteering" here at the Tasikoki Wildlife Center in Northern Sulawesi Island, Indonesia, isn't exactly volunteering, it costs money (about $1,000 for two weeks.) This money goes to pay for my room, food and of course is a donation to help the animals they are so desperately trying to release back into the wildlife. My first night I was sure I made a mistake; there was a spider the size of my hand in the bathroom (which I wasn't allowed to kill, because the animal lovers also love insects); I was told I had to be up at 5:45 to work for 8 hours shovelling poop, scrubbing the algae of the inside of concrete ponds and cleaning out all the monkey enclosures, our entire dinner conversation consisted of talking sadly about the plight of animals; and I was also told there would be no meat served, because if we loved animals we wouldn't eat them.

I came back into my room and said to one of my roommates, "I think this place is far too 'hippy' for me!" Little did I know that in just two short weeks I would make some amazing friends, laugh more than I have in a long time, enjoy every laborious task (well kind of), and feel passionately about saving our world's wildlife and ecosystems. I never thought it would happen to me, but it has.

When my parents asked me what I was doing for work at Tasikoki I told them jokingly "feeding the animals papayas in the morning, and cleaning up papaya poop in the afternoon", but it does pretty much sum things up. I have been working 6 days a week, 8 hours a day, feeding, cleaning, scrubbing, and plucking branches for the animals to eat.

I have gotten dirty, sweaty, covered in substances I don't want to think about and bitten by more bugs than I can count (every time I look there is either a mosquito sucking my blood or an ant with its head buried into my foot, or on a couple occasions partying in my pants.) I also said to my parents in the beginning, "I am not sure I even like animals enough to do all this", but I never did mind a little hard work, so I pressed on with my duties.

Eventually, I grew to love the two orangutangs Iz and Bento who had the habit of peeing on me through their cage every time I walked by, the sun bears Binbin and Bonbon who had the nastiest poops, Betty the noisy Siamang always screaming for a mate, and the other 30 primates and hundreds of birds the center has. What I started to understand was that my money, and my hard work, was helping these animals to live a better life, and hopefully with mine and future funding be released back into the Indonesian wildlife. I probably complained more than any volunteer Tasikoki has ever had, I will admit that, but at least I kept everyone laughing.

Living in my American Bubble, I often forget that the world is suffering in so many ways or that there actually are people willing to fight for it. Willie Smits, the man who opened Tasikoki, is an inspirational man who has devoted his life to saving the world. Seeing that the animal trafficking problem was not the fault of the poor man who needed to feed his family he created a solution that, until I visited his factory and saw it functioning, was beyond my one-tiered thinking. He bought up land around northern Sulawesi, planted palm trees (which when tapped daily, will produce gallons of juice a day, which in turn can be used for making palm sugar and also can be turned into ethanol which can be used for electricity for their homes), and watched as people protected the forrest growing around their crops. Now this area is thriving not only economically, but also ecologically, and of course the orangutan population is no longer in danger. If you have time check out the talk he gave (in the link at the top of the page), it is truly inspiring!!!
I suggest everyone get involved in Willie's plan to help save the world, whether it is buying palm sugar (which also has some amazing health benefits as compared to white sugar), donating food or money to Tasikoki or just getting educated on what can be done. We can change the world on step at a time, even if you start by shovelling poop!!

Today I am off to Bunaken, an island north of here to lounge on the beach and scuba dive for a couple of days before I head back to Australia.

Me and Bemo, the center's loved dog

The view from the center

That was easy

2010-07-21T02:08:00.000-07:00

Every book I read before I set off around the world perpetuated the American belief that travelling is difficult, trying and sometimes even scary. If someone had told me that travelling was so easy, I would have done it a long time ago. The books told me to pack light, but you rarely actually have to carry your pack, so I think a little bigger would have been better. The books told me to bring durable shirts and pants, but clothing is so cheap here in Asia I have bought and thrown out more items than I brought. They worried me about visas (how long they take, how much they cost), but same day visas for any country can be bought for less than $50 at any travel agency. Long story short, travelling is easy. Almost everywhere there are Internet cafes to book travel and correspond, people are always willing to help you, there are other travellers all around to meet up with, amazing guest houses for $5-$20 a night, and pretty much everyone speaks English (or tries to.) Although some people I know have had some misfortunes, (knock on wood) I haven't had anything stolen, haven't gotten sick, haven't had any botched travel plans, and overall have been pretty lucky. It is nice to know that today there is NO place I am scared to go. I told my mother that when I head to South America I am going to visit Columbia, to which of course she replied "OVER MY DEAD BODY" as I might get kidnapped with all the drug wars going on, but then again she also told me I was going to be sold into sex trafficking if I came to Asia (which I obviously wasn't, not yet anyway.) Travelling is not what I thought it was going to be, it's easier.

After a relaxing night in Hanoi I caught an early morning flight to Bali, with a layover in Kuala Lampur. On the plane ride to Bali I met Craig, an Englishman who I would end up travelling with for the next week. He was the only lone traveller I saw so I asked him if he wanted to share a cab and later a hotel room (it is that easy!) Off the plane we headed to an area called Kuta, AKA. Australian Party Central, where it is high season for thousands of Australian tourists. The street blocks are small, lined with shops selling clothing, knock-offs and other souvenirs, massage parlors, restaurants, guest houses and surf shops. Since the streets are so small (usually there is only room for one car) the traffic is horrible which leads to tons of beeping, motorbikes driving on the sidewalk, and cars blocking every turn. There are at least 50 bars and clubs blaring music, and begging you to come in for a free drink. The beach is gorgeous, but had so many tourists and people selling you things (massages, bracelets, bow and arrows (!), that it didn't make for a relaxing afternoon. We rented boogie boards and tried to brave the massive waves, and peeped in on a beach wedding that was going on at a local resort.

Over the next couple of days we rented a motorbike and drove outside of the city. Since I unfortunately left my Southeast Asia Lonely Planet on the plane, I can't tell you specifically where we went, but I'll do my best. We drove to a town called Ubud, and to the coastal town of Nusa , all the time admiring the beautiful pagodas and statues which are everywhere, and the idyllic scenery - inland jungles and rice paddies with massive volcanoes rising in the distance and amazing ocean views from the coast (and of course don't forget the occasional Dunkin Donuts and KFC.) We stopped off at couple of beaches to lounge, eat, and take pictures, but spent most of the day cruising. At night we went to dinner, walked the chaotic streets of Bali and even danced one night away at the popular local night club "Sky Bar."

After spending 3 days in Bali, I wanted to head to the Gili Islands to do some scuba diving, so Craig and I caught an early morning shuttle bus to the dock (where it seemed each of the drivers was racing to get us there, weaving in and out of traffic, etc., only to tell us "30 minute breakfast break" upon arrival), then a 2 hour boat ride on "Gili's Island's fastest transport", to the largest of the three Gili Islands, Trawangan. I thought I had seen some beautiful beaches until I got here - white sand, light blue water, and in the distance those same beautiful volcanoes.

The island itself is quite small (it takes about 1 hour to walk around), with one dirt road that doesn't allow cars or motorbikes (horse-drawn carriages only) lined with shops, guesthouses and restaurants. We did some scuba diving, lying on the beach and lots of eating. Although still touristy I thought it was an amazing get-away. After 4 days Craig and I parted ways, me back to Kuta to catch a VERY early morning flight to Manado, while he stayed in Paradise heading to another Gili Island (there are 3) called Gili Air.

I arrived here in Tasikoki Wildlife Rescue Centre near Manado on Sulawesi Island two days ago, where I plan to spend 2 weeks volunteering before I head back to Australia to live for a couple of months. All I have to say is, "my vacation is over" - with lots of animal poop, sweat and bugs I am no longer living in paradise!

What came first, the tourist or the change?

2010-07-09T18:00:00.000-07:00

During the third week of August, every year, "out-of-towners" would swarm into my hometown of Bridgewater possibly the smallest town in the state of Connecticut, for the annual County fair, stopping in front of my house to ask stupid questions like "where is the Bridgewater Fair?" and "are we in Bridgewater?", while the lights, sounds and smells of the event were clearly just steps away. These types of questions would send me into fits of giggles, thinking "how could these people be so dumb", and of course, left me appreciative that this tourist attraction was only for 3 days a year. As I invade small towns all over Southeast Asia, yelling questions to people, like "where is food" (as I make fast hand to mouth gestures) and "is that the border to China?" (pointing rapidly with my finger) I realize I am far worse than any Bridgewater Fair tourist - I don't even speak the right language. Being in Asia for the past 4 months and seeing what a wonderful place it is, I want to tell people from all over the world to come visit, plan your next vacation here but wonder, does Asia really need more tourists? I spent the last 3 days in Sapa, a little city perched in between the mountains of northwest Vietnam, surrounded by small minority villages. Every morning van loads of tourists pour into the town, where the villagers flock from miles around to sell their crafts and trekking trips, asking you over and over again "you buy from me?", waiting outside restaurants looking longingly at you, until finally after sheer frustration and hours of them following you, you buy an ugly scarf they hand made (and subsequently another scarf because the lady next to her says "why you no buy from me, you buy from her?") Although the villagers say they like tourists because we bring money, I have to assume that Sapa and the surrounding villages were fine before we arrived. As a tourist I never intend to change the places I visit, but over time places change to suit traveller like me, sometimes drastically. As much as I want the rest of the world to see Asia, with every tourist a piece of Asian culture, history and beauty is taken away, which are the reasons we visit in the first place. It seems to be an endless cycle of "what came first, the tourist or the change?", to which I do not have an answer, or a solution for the future. All I can say is that I am happy I got to see Asia the way it is today, before it changes any further.

After spending $150 on custom-made clothing in Hoi Ann, I needed to get out of there (before I bought more) so I headed to the city of Hue, a 5 hour bus ride north along the coast. Another bustling Asian city set on the Song Huong River, which served as the political capital from 1802 - 1945, is described as "the intellectual, spiritual and cultural capital of Vietnam."

All over the city, and on the outskirts, are crumbling citadels and opulent tombs of the previous emperors. I only had one day to explore so my new friend Tom and I took a motorbike to see some of the tombs, ruins and pagodas, a Japenese covered bridge and a demonstration from a local on how to harvest rice. That night I remembered why I don't stay in dorms anymore when one of my fellow 14 dorm-mates threw up all over herself and the wall - great!

That night I caught a sleeper bus (to those who aren't familiar, this bus seats about 40 people but all the seats recline to a comfortable snoozing position) to Hanoi. Much to my dismay I stayed at another hostel, and while there met some girls I would end up travelling with for the next 6 days.

We spent that day wandering around the chaotic city of Hanoi, and that night watching a traditional Water Puppet show (on the stage is a large square pool of water where puppets perform), which may have been fairly interesting had I known what they were saying, but turned out to be not interesting at all. Even the traditional Vietnamese music wasn't appealing, since ALL the sleeper bus blare this high-pitched singing all night long.

The following day a bunch of us headed to Halong Bay on a 2 day tour hosted by Hanoi Backpackers. Halong bay, unlike any beauty I have ever seen, lies in the Gulf of Tolkin, and as you look out over the water you see 3,000+ oddly shaped rocks jutting into the sky , some even with holes and tunnels in them from the rain and wind. Unfortunately the Hanoi Backpackers trip is pretty much a "booze cruise" and despite the sombreros we had to wear, the forced drinking games and late night antics, I still was able to thoroughly enjoy myself and the scenery.

After a tiring bus ride back to Hanoi, we caught the overnight train to Sapa. I can only describe Sapa and it's surrounding villages as a combination of The Lord of the Ring's Shire and a super-advanced golf course.

Rice patties in layered tiers line every lush, green mountain, while white clouds perch at the top. As you wind through the mountains, you look down into the valley at the small villages that line the river. We had an all-female motorcycle gang for two days as we toured through the mountains and spent our third day trekking to a local village, all while being closely followed by the locals and their crafts.

Although the town of Sapa was quite picturesque, the street we stayed on was so narrow that ALL morning and night drivers would beep (that is what they do here in Asia, beep, a lot) and the street sellers would wait outside for you, accosting you the second you stepped outside. Overall the trip was amazing and fun, but not exactly relaxing.

After the night bus dropped us off back in Hanoi at 3:30 in the morning (thanks for that), I splurged and checked into a nice guesthouse with air conditioning and a TV for a whopping $16 a night. I spent the first day relaxing and watching TV and today my Australian friend Mick and I rented a motorbike and while he braved driving through the city traffic, I sat entertained on the back. We attempted to go to see Ho Chi Min's body, but it was closed. We went to the Ho Chi Min Museum but were told 15 minutes after arriving that they were closing (right in the middle of the day), and lastly when our 2 hour drive to the perfume pagoda turned into a 4 1/2 hour EPIC adventure (which included a lot of karaoke to Willie Nelson's "on the road again" "and we're back on the road again" "and we're back on the right road again") we finally arrived to everything being closed. Overall though, it was a great last day in Vietnam. Oh did I mention the Australian restaurant we wanted to go to was closed as well?

I am currently in the Hanoi Airport on my way to Bali, where I will stay for 10 days!

Vacationing in "Nam"

2010-06-29T18:52:00.000-07:00

Vacationing through Vietnam certainly begs the question; could my children vacation to Iraq in 30 years time? I am sure my parents never imagined that I would be enjoying the chaotic buzz of Saigon, the white rolling sand dunes of Mue Ni, or the beautiful "Miamiesque" beaches of Nha Trang , all in Vietnam, a country that was the site of warfare and bloodshed just a few centuries ago, but I am. Vietnam is truly amazing, and the farthest thing from what I imagined. Every traveler has their opinion of certain countries or cities, and after receiving them, I discard them immediately. I have yet to find a place I haven't liked, and find that by keeping non-existent expectations I always end up pleased. Vietnam is no exception, but despite what people told me the jungled war-torn "Nam" of my youth was all I could envision, but it has been eye opening seeing the other side of the coin. Vietnam has a lot more infrastructure than Cambodia or Laos. As you drive through the patch worked countryside of fields and rice paddies, you see concrete houses, paved roads, and lamp posts. Vietnam borders the Pacific Ocean (the Vietnamese do not like it being called the South China Sea) which means stunning beach vistas at every turn. I thought some of the other Asian nations had a lot of motorbikes until I came to Vietnam where 60% of the population is said to drive motorbikes (but here at least people actually wear helmets.) While some travellers said the street sellers and people were unfriendly and persistently hostile, as long as I keep my spirits up with them, they have been nothing but pleasant (even knowing that I am American.) The only thing that hasn't been amazing, is the power outages. Due to lack of rain, Vietnam sells its electricity to Cambodia, so every other day entire cities lose power (which means cold dinners, hot sleeping conditions and dark nights) - ugh!

The first thing I did when I got to the Chaotic Ho Chi Min City was find Rego (my former travel buddy), who had been staying in the city for a couple of weeks watching the world cup, eating, drinking and sleeping (lots!) I peeled him out of bed and dragged him to some of the sites. First we headed to the Cu Chi tunnels, a 200km tunnel system outside of the city which housed the Viet Cong while they ran an effective ground operation during the war, where you can crawl through part of the tunnels (which have been widened for the westerners), shoot an AK-47 for 30,000 dong a bullet ($1 = 18,000 dong) and see the horrific jungle traps that were built and used on the American Soldiers.

The videos and commentary were clearly anti-American, and when I went to the War Remnants Museum later that day, I was not proud to be an American. I remember growing up hearing my mother speak of her neighbor and other friends who died in the Vietnam War, and even going to the Washington DC memorial to etch one of the soldier's names onto a piece of paper. What no one told me was that while we lost 50,000 people in the war, Vietnam lost 3 million (2 million of which were innocent civilians) not to mention the hundreds of thousands of people that live with the side effects of the chemicals, like Agent Orange, that we poured into their country. I realize there are two sides to every war, and like the protesters of the past, I do not want my children to look back on our current political situation with the same shame that I have to bear today. War is not the answer, then or now.

While in Ho Chi Min City, I also checked out the neo-Romanesque Notre Dame Cathedral and the Reunification Palace (built in 1966 to serve as the Presidential Palace, this was where the first Communist tanks crashed when the South surrendered to the North).

A day trip to the Mekong Delta, a series of islands that lie where the base of the Mekong River meets the Pacific Ocean, included a boat trip down one of the many rivers (with a funny cone hat on), watched (and tasted) coconut candy being made, played with a snake and drank honey bee tea while watching a traditional song and dance performance. After convincing Rego there will be other places in the country showing the World Cup, we headed north to Mui Ne.

Mui Ne is one long road parallel to the beach with lots of cute little restaurants, guesthouses, resorts and beachy shops.

The white sandy beach had lots of wind, so much that kite surfing schools have popped up all over the town, (there were about 50 surfers to every swimmer.) The only problem with Mui Ne was that there were no people there, and had I not been with Rego finding a friend would have proved difficult. On our second day in Mui Ne we rented motorbikes and cruised out to the "sahara of Vietnam", white and red sand dunes that oddly juxtapose the mountainous and beach landscape.

When we got there people charged us to park our bikes, charged us for plastic mats to sled down the mountain, and 3 little girls carried our sleds, showed us how to do it, offered to take our pictures, and then demanded 20,000 dong each at the end. The sweaty afternoon of sand sledding and bike riding and a hilarious night of attempting to get around in the flooded road after a severe rain storm, was well worth the stop in Mui Ne.

Our next stop was to the beach town of Nha Trang. A gridded city based along a beach as long as Miami's, but definitely not as clean or crowded. Some friends complained of late night robberies (although too drunk to put the scheme together, they all said money was taken out of their wallets), but overall I thought the city was nice enough. During our first day we headed to the beach and while I laid out in my bikini, the locals took swims in their shorts and shirts. That night we camped out at the local sports bar "why not?", and watched the USA world cup game.

There were 3 other Americans who helped support, but the majority of the crowd were bitter English, screaming "Go Guana" while expressing their other anti-American opinions. The following day a bunch of us headed to the Vinpearl waterpark (which included a ride in the longest over water cable car) and that night watched as the English were beat with the karma stick with their embarrassing 4-1 World Cup loss to Germany. Unfortunately Rego decided to stay in Nha Trang for another 2 weeks to watch the ENTIRE world cup (which I obviously didn't want to do), so we had to part ways again. We are hoping to see eachother again in Australia, or at my wedding day (I told him he could be one of the bridesmaids.)

I am currently in Hoi Ann, a quaint town set on the Thu Bon River. The "city" served as an international trading port as far back as the 17th century and is influenced by the Japanese, Chinese, and other European Cultures, which is apparent when walking through the narrow streets, which are lit up by colored Chinese lanterns at night. All around the city are historic Japanese and Chinese architectural sites, but what you actually find the most of are tailors - "hey lady, want a suit? How about a shirt? Nice dress lady?"

There are at least 200 tailor shops all trying to get you to custom make cheap knock-off suit, shoes, wedding dresses, anything! They have popular clothing catalogs and you point to what you want, and the next day they make it at a fraction of the cost (just without the label!)

I also took a motorbike out to the ruins of My Son (about an hour outside of the city), set under the Cat's Tooth Mountain, these remains of the Cham empire were not breathtaking, but the scenery around them was well worth it. On the bike ride home I got a real taste of the Vietnamese "wet season", and the rain everyone's been waiting for. We felt a few drops of rain, so we pulled over and bought ponchos, which reminded me of another Goos family holiday to Bermuda when we were forced to wear these ugly "garbage bags" everywhere because we never had a vacation without rain. As the monsoon poured down on us, children came out to play in the flooded streets and screamed as we passed. Even though raindrops at 40mph is a little painful, this memorable experience was actually kind of fun!

Tomorrow I am headed north up the coast to Hue, then to Hanoi the following day!

To Give or Not to Give, That is the Question

2010-06-18T03:49:00.000-07:00

When I budgetted for my world trip I didn't account for my bleeding heart. After a fun-filled night of playing trivia, drinking, and laughing, I head back to my guesthouse in Siem Reap. As I walk back a young girl, shirtless with torn pants and a dirty face jumps into my arms, while another girl grabs onto my hand. For a second I am reminded of a Goos family holiday taken back in 1995 to Italy when my dad, wearing a "fanny-pack", was robbed by a mob of seemingly innocent children, so I search for my wallet - it'still there. They start chanting to me "hungry, food, hungry, food, food, food"; I mean this is the stuff of my nightmares, and I say to them "sure I'll buy you some chocolate or chips", which are words I'm sure they don't understand, so I carry them into the convenience store. The second I walk through the sliding door, in what seems like a well rehearsed scheme, they walk over to the baby formula and hand me a $17 canister, this time chanting "for baby, please, for baby." (I have since learned the scam is to return the formula to the store and get the money, after I've walked away with my do-good-for-others feeling.) Needless to say, I left the convenience store having bought the formula AND plenty of chocolate, chips and candy. Cambodia is a country stricken with poverty, and everywhere you go people want your money. From the constant berage of "hey lady, tuk-tuk? where you go? motorbike?" the second you step off of a bus or leave a restaurant, you could even have just gotten off a tuk-tuk; to land mine mutilated people selling books and postcards out of a basket that hangs around their neck, surrounding you when you sit down to eat a meal; or restaurants yelling you the specials on drinks and food as you walk by. I have since spent money on $10 worth of school supplies for the orphanage I am teaching at and $18 for last-day presents to the children, a $10 donation to an orphanage in Siem Reap, over $14 on books from street sellers, $10 on pencils for the school at the floating village, and the list goes on. I have had many a heated debate with other travellers as to whether or not it benefits people to give them money. I ussually conclude the debate by saying "Well, you think the money we give goes to bad things like drugs and alcohol, and I think the money goes towards good things like food and education. Since we will never know the truth, I will keep thinking it it goes towards good things." As I drive through the country I often consider the impact a small monetary donation from each US citizen would have on the population here in Cambodia - it would be big. I think the answer to the question is, GIVE.

In my last couple of days in Siem Reap I hung out at a rooftop pool (which cost and astronomical $11 for a couple of hours compared to the $6 a night I was splitting for a guesthouse ), met up with my friend Tim from college for dinner, and visited an orphanage where I fell in love with a little boy named Tye.

The following day Jodi and I set out on a morning bus to Battambang, which my lonely planet describes as "home to Cambodia's best-preserved French-period architecture", but I just felt like it was another busy Asian city. With a central market selling fried bugs and spiders, squirming fish in buckets, eggs containing dead baby chickens, hand made scarfs, and knock-off purses, and the typical asian traffic (swarms of motobikes, tuk-tuks, cars and cyclos going in all directions), we decided not to spend too much time there. On our first and only afternoon in Battambang we took a tuk-tuk ride out to the countryside.

One of the main tourist attractions is a bamboo train, which is basically an old railway line that now provides the locals with means of transporting their goods - atop a bamboo mat on transportable wheels, so if anyone is coming in the other direction the cart with the least amount of goods has to get everyone and everything off, break down the bamboo train and let them pass. The best part of this bumpy ride was stopping at a little "village" where they forced us to eat fried banana chips and drink soda while I rose to celebrity status introducing the children to my iPhone.

On the way back we stopped to see homes where they make bamboo cakes (they put coconut milk, rice and black beans into a stick of bamboo and cook it over a fire), rice paper and Cambodian "cheese" (this is not cheddar people, its made from fish!)

The following morning we left Battambang and decided to stop in a place called Pursat, a town off the beaten backpacker path. When we got off the bus we were accosted by people trying to get us into their guesthouse, and after we found a place and started our walk around town, the looks of escaped zoo animals began. Clearly there aren't a lot of white people in Pursat because we were the afternoon entertainment. While most of the children would scream hello to us, the adults mostly gave questioning, unfriendly looks.

Pursat has another bustling market, lots of motobikes, garbage strewn all over the streets (in Cambodia most people cannot afford to have their rubbish picked up so they just throw it on the ground, out the window of their car, etc.) and a couple of old temples.

We took a scenic 45 minute tuk-tuk ride through the countryside, with bamboo homes, water buffalo, rice padies, and screams from children when they caught a glimpse of us. We ended up at another floating village, which was far less touristy than the last one, but still had a floating gas station, mobile phone shop and lots of smiling locals. After an early night, we took a morning bus to Phnom Pehn.

What I didn't know about Cambodia shocks me. Between 1975 and 1979 the Khmer Rouge, at the hands of leader Pol Pot, killed approximately 1,700,000 Cambodian people in acts of mass genoicide (1/3 of the population!!) With radical Marxist ideas Pol Pot murdered any person who was not a simple working peasant (including anyone with an education, governmental position, city job, etc.) One of the books I bought from a crippled street seller is called "First they Killed my Father", and I highly reccomend it to anyone interested in Cambodian history.

WIping tears from my eyes, this book explained how the Khmer Rouge told the people living in Phnom Pehn that the US was going to bomb the city, so the people were evacuated to surrounding villages where they were starved, and eventually murdered in truly violent ways. In the center of Phnom Pehn a former high school was turned into a prison called S-21, which is now a torture museum documenting the horrific acts of the Khmer Rouge .

About 30 minutes outside of town are the killing fields of Choeung Ek, where most of the 17,000 detainees of S-21 were executed. The memorial stupa which stands in the center of this rolling field displays over 8,000 human skulls, bringing to life the reality of this atrocity. Many of the locals I meet and even the orphans I teach have lost parents and other relatives to the Khmer Rouge. Considering the history of this war-torn country, I think Cambodia is doing pretty well.

Phnom Pehn also has a casino (where I won $8, and subsequently a few nights later lost $10), a royal palace, 3 markets (the Russian market, Central market and the Night Market), lots of great restaurants lining the esplanade which runs along the Mekong River, massage parlors ("hey lady, you want massage, good deal for you"), and thousands of tuk-tuks, motorbikes, cyclos, busses and street sellers (hey lady, where you go? you need a ride, good deal for you.)

After seeing some truly strange and ridiculous things here in Phnom Pehn I adopted a new motto, "why not."

For example: Why not wear your pajamas all day long? People all over this country wear two-piece, ridiculously patterned pajamas, all day, everyday. Or, why not wash your hands with a coke? Yes, I saw someone doing this. Or, why not drive on on the wrong side of the road? Whether taking a left hand turn immediately or in 4 miles, someone turning left onto a road instead of crossing traffic to get into the right lane, will pull into the oncoming traffic lane and ride there for as long as they feel like it. This, and not having stop signs or stop lights at intersections makes for a very strange, but organized chaos. Lastly, why not wear long sleeve pants and shirts, gloves and hats in 100 degree weather? The people here are so afraid of getting sun that they wear as much clothing as they can (not to mention all their face creams have whitening in them, which is pretty annoying for someone who likes to have a tan!)

The best part about my stay in Phnom Pehn has been my experience teaching English at an orphanage for the last week. Although I intended to head south to the coast for my last days in Cambodia, I couldn't pass up this opprotunity to work with the local children. I have been teaching two classes of 20 children, ranging in age from 4 to 15, basic English (sounds of letters, dictation, word recognition, etc.) Some of the older kids just want to practice their English, and during the conversation hour ask basic questions ("Do you have a boyfriend" is always a favorite, and one even asked me to sing "My Heart Will Go On" from The Titanic, which I did, horribly.) I truly enjoy teaching. Maybe it's a future career path?

On Sunday the 20th I am off on my own again, to Ho Chi Min City, Vietnam. My former travel buddy Rego is there, and I am hoping I can convince him to travel north with me. I will spend twenty days in Vietnam, before my July 10th flight to Bali, Indonesia.

Pickled

2010-06-04T19:59:00.000-07:00

I am in a pickle. I have only been travelling for 5 months but the vagabond lifestyle I have been experiencing has become so addictive, I am not sure I will ever be able to return to living a "normal" life. Countries I used to think were in lands far, far away, are now places I feel comfortable. The idea of travelling alone which used to send me into a panic, now seems like the best way to travel. Staying in one place for an extended amount of time, doing the same thing over and over again now seems boring. Travelling, seeing different places, experiencing unique cultures, meeting new people all the time, are elements of my current life that I don't want to give up. I am so scared to walk through the door of my family home in CT and have my mom to say to me "So, what's your plan? All your stuff is in boxes, and we need to do something with it. Where will you live? What will you do for work?" For someone who has not had a plan in 5 months, and operates on the motto of having the "NO plan, plan", I wonder if I will ever be able to adjust back to the way life used to be... Maybe i will, but I think once a pickle, never again a cucumber. Fortunately I have another 10 months to prepare.

I am currently in Siem Riep, Cambodia, after spending 20 days in Laos. I booked a flight from Hanoi, Vietnam to Bali, Indonesia on July 10th, which means I have a little over a month to see both Cambodia and Vietnam, so even though I would have loved to stay in Laos longer, I have to keep moving.

After my last post I spent another day in Luang Prabang, rented bicycles, toured some temples, spent the afternoon at the waterfalls (again), and a night watching Sherlock Holmes at a guesthouse's outdoor theater. The next day we got a 12 hour bus ride to Laos' capital city Vientiane, another former French settlement perched on the banks of the Mekong. The Bible (my Lonely Planet guidebook) tells me the city becomes more sophisticated every year, and I can see many western additions popping up (coffee shops, restaurants, huge hotel resorts being built on the river).

Although many of my fellow travelers felt Vientienne was just another bustling city, my three days consisted of a visit to the Buddha Park (a green field filled with concrete statues of Buddhas, alligators, temples, and other structures that make for great photo opportunities), a quick stop at the Loas National Museum (where I was horrified to learn that an estimated 260 million "bombies" were dropped in Laos in the late 1960s, 70 million of which failed to explode and continue to plaque the nation's people), a $100 visit to the Australian Embassy to have my burn looked at (my mother is happy, my bank account is not),

a sightseeing trip to the Golden Temple and Vientiane's Arc deTriomphe replica (made from cement donated by the USA - woo hoo, maybe this makes up for all the bombs we dropped), and a couple rounds of bowling at one of the city's two bowling alleys.

You know how it feels when you are sitting anxiously on an airplane waiting to see who your seat-partner is going to be, each person who rounds the corner of different size, shape, and smell invokes horrifying thoughts of how you will spend your upcoming hours. Well now imagine that you have to sleep next to that person for 12 hours. Welcome to the Vientiane to 4,000 Island Sleeper Bus, a double decker bus with 12 beds each housing two people (and if you're alone you're out of luck in picking your partner.) After a brief panic session, a few times of saying "absolutely not", and some desperate pleas to people using movies and cookies as bait, I ended up with a friend I met briefly at my guesthouse (it beat the other options!) But, it still wasn't relaxing rolling around (literally), in a bed with someone you barely know.

4,000 islands is a cluster of islets and sandbars at the end of the Mekong (which really should be named 12 islands, 3,088 grassy patches).

We spent the first two nights at the largest island Dhon Khong, which although 5 times the size of the other islands, there wasn't much going on. With the least amount of Falang (white people), it had an untouched feel, and driving our motorbikes around the flat island, sprouting with raised bamboo homes, water buffalo and decaying temples, felt real. After two nights of going to bed at 8pm, we decided to head to Dhon Det, a more touristy island about 45 minutes down the river via boat.

We spent our days baking in the heat, lounging in hammocks, tubing, bike riding to the other island Dhon Kohn to see a huge waterfall, and our nights watching the sunset, eating at one of the many restaurants, and "partying" in a tiny village which shuts down early.

Since the native waitstaff seem to prefer spending their time watching TV and sleeping, I even spent one night "working" at a local restaurant, bringing people beer, food and menus, while my friends watched with smiles.

The bus ride from Dhon Dhet to Siem Riep was pretty awful. We got picked up at 8am, waited in the boiling sun until 11am for our bus to pick us up, and then after a inopportune trip to the bathroom, I ended up sitting on a plastic chair in the aisle for a 20 minute trip to the border. When we got off I ran through the check-point where corruption allows each person who touches your passport to charge you $1 (yes, they use American dollars here in Cambodia), so I could get an actual seat on the bus. I sat down next to my friend, but when the original seat owner came back a battle ensued, and eventually I had to sit back on the plastic chair for an hour until someone got off the bus. One idiot slept through the checkpoint so we had to wait for him, all of which resulted in a 12pm arrival time in Siem Riep.

Siem Riep has been built up to serve tourists visiting the temples of Angkor, the eight wonder of the world. I hadn't heard anything about the city itself, but was pleasantly surprised. Small streets lined with french-inspired restaurants offer amazing decor and menus (at a fraction of the cost), another huge market selling knock-off's, fresh food and other native souvenirs, and lots of falang. My crew and I got up at 4:30am yesterday to watch sunrise at the Ankor Wat temple, and like any other popular tourist site I was a little disgruntled with my experience. Hundred of people shuttle through the site and line up to get the perfect picture, and then some chick in an all white suit decides to walk onto the temple and become a permanent white blob in your photographed memory. Even though the ruins were amazing, by 10am we were all "templed out", and headed back to our guest house to nap. That afternoon we took a tuk-tuk out to the floating village, 300+ boat houses of Cambodians who fled the Khmer Ruge and 30 years later have stayed on the water. We were inundated by boat-bound beggars, with crying children of all ages chanting "one dollar, one dollar", to which no amount of money we gave was enough. We even bought $5 pencils to give to the floating school, but still left feeling like there has got to be a better way to give to these impoverished people.

My current crew is breaking up within the next couple of days, and my path will take me south. First to Battambang, then Pursat, Phnom Penh, and eventually to the beaches and islands off the southern Cambodian coast before heading into Vietnam around the 20th.

I think I know Better

2010-05-21T21:10:00.000-07:00

When I spoke with my mother about the people of Laos and their innate cultural differences to what I have known growing up she expressed sympathy for them saying "they don't know any better", and I got to wondering, is the American life actually "better?" In Laos, some of the people live in the nicer homes in towns like Luang Prabang or Vientanne, while others live in bamboo villages with little running water and 12+ family members in each house. The average monthly income for a person living in the city is 1,000,000 kip (about $100) and the average monthly income for a person in the rural village is 150,000 kip (about $20.) They eat dogs, rats (I saw a child chowing down on a rat head the other hand filled with sticky rice, eating it like it was PB&J snack time) and anything else they can catch. In the river (which all the livestock and people live off of), they bath, fish, brush their teeth and do their laundry. I have to admit growing up watching discovery channel videos of Southeast Asia I always felt sorry for these people too, but now I see that this more simple lifestyle is not awful, just different. As I walk through villages I see children being held by their mothers, kids playing, families gathering and people smiling and laughing. The Laos people are friendly, curious and willing to help you if they can. They seem more connected with their family than most American families I know. Mothers spend all day with their children. They don't put their parents in nursing homes, but keep live in the same house with them. Families eat together. Children play together. People spend their days at the river, laughing and smiling. They eat natural, unprocessed foods, live off the land and don't even own mirrors (how nice that life would be!) I suppose I could feel bad for them, but then I see the "better-off" America, filled with people who work 60+ hours a week in front of a computer, give their children to strangers to raise so they can make more money, who are constantly finding ways to look better, younger, and more fit, and use their legal rights to sue others over anything they can think of to make an extra buck. Perhaps the American way isn't the best? I think now I know better!

After a night in Luang Nam Tha, Toby, Emma, Mike and I rented motorbikes and drove 2 1/2 hours out to Mai Sai. Even though we only spent about 1 hour there, we were inundated with women trying to sell us their crafts/bracelets (we even had an old naked lady run after our motorbikes on the way back, which was one of the funniest experiences I have ever had.)

Besides the ridiculous burn I got on my leg from the exhaust pipe, the journey was amazing, beautiful, and almost indescribable. We stopped at a couple of villages, met locals, I ate some smashed up bugs they use to spice dishes, and took videos of locals (which they love to look at afterward, as they rarely see their own faces in pictures.) Laos is less touristy than Thailand, so the rolling hills and lush green forests feel more untouched.

The following day we did an 8 hour kayak trip. The highlights included talking with our native guides about their culture, eating a true Laos meal of skewered fish, hard boiled eggs and sticky rice (all prepared over a fire, and laid out on Banana leaves by the side of the river), Emma getting stuck in the rapids and stopping in at another village.

The following day we caught an 8 hour minibus ride to Nong Khiaw, which was an experience to be remembered. Forget about the beautiful scenery, the live chickens on board or even the blaring Laos music, the best part was our in-person example of Laos justice. About half way through the bus stops and we all get out to witness a confusing scene. A much bigger bus is stopped in the road in front of us, a man is on the ground looking sad (but fine), and a bunch of Laos people are standing around yelling at one another. After some time, and a serious traffic jam, we learned that the man had supposedly been hit by the bus while working, and was refusing to get out of the road until he gets money (1,000,000 kip.) After 45 minutes of people yelling at each other while the man sat there looking sad, eventually a large amount of money was exchanged and we got on our way.

Nong Khiaw was amazing. (Someone told me that some of the Avatar scenery was modeled after this place!) On either side of a huge river filled with boats and locals, connected by a long bridge, are jutting black mountains with lush green trees overflowing from its edges; butterflies literally swarm around you; chickens and pigs roam through the streets and beautiful flowers bloom in every garden.

We spent two days doing pretty much nothing, visited some local caves, ate some Indian food and relaxed in our paradise. Mike, Emma and I took a 6 hour boat ride down the Mekong river to Luang Prabang while Toby headed north to Muang Mgoi Neua. The boat ride was well worth the 200,000kip as the scenery was amazing and hearing the local children yelling "sa-ba-dee" (which means hello in Laos) while they wave enthusiastically made me feel like a celebrity!

Luang Prabang is a little piece of France in the center of Southeast Asia; quaint, homey and lively, the riverside restaurants, white stone buildings and breathtaking vistas stole my heart on arrival. At night the main street closes down to host a night market filled with silver jewelery, handmade bedspreads and Asian lamps (but you must be back to your guest house by 12pm as ordered by strict Laos rules.) During the day you can hear the monks banging on drums from the neighboring temples, walk along the cafe-lined streets or hang out at Utopia, a seriously chilled lounge bar with an indoor sand volleyball court and lots of bamboo perched on the banks of the Mekong. I have only been here for three days and already feel at home.

Yesterday I took a trip to the Kuangsi Waterfall Park with a couple of new friends being the waterfall connoisseur that I am, I am pleased to say these are BY FAR the BEST waterfalls I have ever been to with crystal blue water and rope swings - sheer beauty and fun! As for today, I have done a whole lot of lounging... It is easy to do here!

Some of the Grass is Greener

2010-05-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

I want to take this public opportunity to say a few negative things about travelling. Don't get me wrong, this is hands-down the MOST amazing thing I have ever done in my life (so far!) and I am blissfully happy, but being away from "home" for months at a time does have its self-imposed downfalls. Travelling takes a toll on your body. When I first began my journeys I would see girls who had been travelling for a while with some extra weight on their bones, bug bites all over their legs, motorbikes scars (both new and old), broken finger nails, etc., and think to myself "that is never going to be me!" Well four months into this journey I am sorry to say I haven't escaped the backpacker body woes - my legs are covered in mosquito bites, I recently was involved in two motorbike "accidents" (don't worry Mom I am fine) which left some serious scratches on my leg, have thrown healthy eating and exercising to the wind, and definitely try to avoid dealing with the caked dirt in my fingernails. I miss my body, my gym, and my manicurist. The wickable/fast drying clothes I brought from America are ripping and fading, and the new clothes I am buying along the way don't last long either. If you spend more than 5 days with me you will be sure to see the same clothing on rotation, because my 50l backpack doesn't carry much. I miss my overflowing closet. I even miss the Danbury Mall. It has been about 100 degrees here in Asia everyday which means guarenteed frizzy hair and break-outs like a 12 year old. I miss the New England spring, my haircare products and my own bathroom where I can spend as long as I want primping myself. I have met at least a hundred amazing people along the way, who after only a few short days have to say goodbye to. I miss knowing that when I meet someone I may actually see them again. I miss having consistent friends and family in my everyday life. For those of you who are toiling away at your computer, working for the weekend and your two-week holiday, please don't hate me for this one; as I lie in a hammock, bed, or on the beach, reading and soaking up the sun, I even miss work. I find myself sick of rest and relaxation wondering how things are going at my previous place of employment. I suppose some of the grass is greener, even when your prairie is fertilized with dreams.

Although I am missing home, I am still loving travelling. I am pretty sure I want to be doing this for at least another year (or as long as I can make my money last) - career, marriage and babies can wait!! I never had a 401K anyway, 'gasp!' After my American Doctor friends left me in Chiang Mai, I went out for a walk around dinner time and sat down to eat with a random New Zealand guy named Steve. It turns out he was going to a Thai boxing match that night so I tagged along with him and two other people from his guest house. By the end of the night I had seen a midget fight a 12-year old boy, watched naked ladyboys dance to YMCA, and got to make fun of Gordon Ramsey, a famous chef, who was filming something at the table behind me. He was sitting there all by himself and I said "Are you making a show about being alone?", and he said "yup, its about having no friends. Then I told him we would make a cute couple, he agreed. The following day Stevie and I toured around Chiang Mai, saw some temples, went and heard a buddhist monk speak about buddism (yawn), and added some more people to the "wolf pack". The next day five of us rented motorbikes and toured around the mountains outside of Chiang Mai landscaped with lush green jungles, friendly locals and bamboo villages (I am finally coming around to the joys of riding a motorbike!!). The following day, the now 6 of us, decided to head to Pai, a small hippy town in northern Thailand.

Pai is the type of town I could stay in forever. The town is only about 3 blocks x 3 blocks wide, with a small river bordering our guest house "The Breeze of Pai"; there are only two 7/11's (which is amazing for Thailand), the streets are littered with quirky clothing shops, hand-made jewlrey stands, thai restaurants and unique bars. During the day the falangs (white people) head to Fluid, a pool across town where they serve drinks and food; at night the streets close for a night market and people head to the Bamboo bar or Ting Tang for partying into the early hours. The town is small enough so after having been there for just a day I already felt at home, waving to people I met the day before. We never intended to spend 6 days there, but we did. Most days consisted of sleeping until 11 or 12, uncessarily driving our motorbikes in caravan-style to get brunch at one of the local restaurants, heading out of town to one of the waterfalls (and even once to the canyon for sunset), long hours swimming and sleeping at Fluid, lying in the hammocks at our hostel by the river, reading, sleeping, and just plain relaxing. We had our motorbikes for the full 6 days so we also spent a lot of time travelling out of town to see the amazing Thai landscape and local villages. The only downfall to Pai was the power outages. In the middle of dinner, the whole town would go black, (or worse when you are in bed, and your only fan would die.) They happened at least once a day, sometimes for minutes and sometimes for hours!

Four members of what I have come to call The Wolfpack headed from Pai to Chiang Rai - Toby, Josh, Magnus and myself, while the others went their seperate ways. Chiang Rai is a similar city to Chiang Mai (all this rhyming is getting confusing, I know trust me), but smaller.

We got a great guesthouse, splurged on air conditioning and cable TV (since we didn't have it in Pai) and spent the first afternoon sleeping and watching American movies like The Fifth Element, James Bond, and even Schindlers List. Did I mention I miss TV? I got an oil Thai Massage and we went out to dinner to celebrate my 22nd birthday (and I got the biggest sundae EVER)!

The next day we rented motorbikes and headed out of town to a waterfall, Josh put diesel fuel into the bikes (which gave the locals, who drained the bikes for free, a good laugh), and met up with some American friends we met in Pai at the local night food bazaar where we enthusiasticlaly played Catch Phrase into the evening hours.

Yesterday we said goodye to Magnus then Josh, Toby and I headed to Loas on a 6 hour public bus ride (with only rotating fans - so hot). After a night in the border town of Huay Xai, Loas, Toby and I headed north to where we are now Luang Nam Tha (Josh got on the 2-day slow boat to Luang Prabang.) We already added two English people we met on the minibus to the wolfpack and will probbaly do more trekking or motorbiking tomorrow. As for now, its more rest and relaxation. Ahhh, travelling. ;-)

Going it Alone

2010-05-01T03:13:00.000-07:00

Most of my friends (and family, of course) cannot fathom how a young woman can backpack alone through New Zealand and Australia, nevermind Asia - "you're travelling alone?!!? Aren't you worried/lonely/scared? Isn't that unsafe!?" My mother made me watch the movie "Taken" before I left (in this blood pumping thriller Liam Neeson's daughter gets kidnapped and sold into self trafficking but I assured her that white men would definitely not travel all the way to Thailand to have sex with me!) Although I travelled on and off with my college buddy Tim in New Zealand (and will probably meet up with him again in Cambodia), the majority of my travelling since then has been "alone". I will say, though, that It's easy it is to meet people along the way. After a simple hello to another traveller I have asked "can I tag along with you?" only minutes later. Of course, on the days when I just can't be bothered to talk to people I end up sitting on the internet or reading a book, which can be lonely, but hey, I get the best of both worlds; friends when I want them and alone time when I don't. Tonight is my first night truly "alone" in about 3 1/2 months, and it is actually pretty nice. But as for tomorrow, I hope to meet some new people to hang with!

So I haven't written in two weeks, and to my dedicated readers I apologize, but I have been too busy having fun! Rego and I headed south from Bangkok two weeks ago to the island of Koh Toa to start our scuba diving certification. The island itself was another paradise; bigger than the parenthian islands, with more bars, shops and stores, with just as nice beaches and that fun laid-back, beachy feel. After 3 days of pool training, cheezy american DVD watching, amazing scuba diving and a "final exam" (which I decided would be a group exam, and open book while the instructors weren't looking) Rego and I recevied our PADI Open Water certifications. I was enjoying my time underwater so much that even though Rego stuck to our intial plan and headed back to Bangkok, I decided to stay in Koh Toa for three extra days to get my advanced diving certification, which included a night dive (we used flashlights - crazy!) and deep diving to 30 meters. Koh Toa wasn't all scub diving though, I also rented motor bikes with my friend John and drove around the island (and no I didn't learn my lesson; they were still horribly scary, and I gave up after two hours), saw a "Lady Boy" Show (this is a word which is now permanently in my dictionary, and I am sure you don't need the definiton), and enjoyed the beautiful beaches!

On my ferry ride back to mainland I met three American doctors (they all just graduated from Medical school and are travelling through Asia until they start their Residencies in June) who happened to be going north to Chiang Mai, so I invited myself to tag along.

After a 3 hour ferry, 8 hour overnight bus (which got us into Bangkok at 3am!), a 5 hour wait in the train station, and a 12 hour train ride to Chiang Mai in 90 degree heat because the AC in our car was broken, we arrived tired and sweaty. A "taxi" (a pick-up truck with bench seating in the back) drove us to a guest house and we were able to split an amazing room for only $6 a piece!!

The next day we took a 6 hour cooking course where we learned to make traditional Thai meals like Pad Thai, Green Curry, Spring Rolls, Sticky Rice and Mango and Burnt Garlic (actually that's not a traditional dish, it's just a new one I came up with.) We were all throughly exhausted after the class (especially after the deep frying garlic panic session) that we went and got Thai Massages. Reminder to Self: Never get a Thai Massage in a group. It was like when I go to a yoga class, and everything makes me laugh so hard that I can't relax. Between the farting noises (it was supposedly "changing position on the mat" and Don, one of the doctors, being so inflexible that the massuse fell over trying to sit him up) it was the most hysterical (and unrelaxing) massage I've ever gotten!

That evening we went to the night market, where I haggled for some deals on fake birkenstocks and another unneccesary dress, ate ice cream cones at MacDonalds (covered in chocolate for only 30 cents!) and danced at a salsa/hippy bar.

The following morning we began our 3-day trek through the Northern Thailand jungle with our tourguide Moonshine, a native Thai man with no teeth and really, extraordinarily long hair growing out of a mole on his chin. On the way we stopped at the local market to pick up some food for our journey, and me and two of my new American friends decided to eat some bugs.
I ate one super big grasshopper-type-bug, and a juicy maggot. Despite the initial shock of what I was eating, they weren't too bad!! Before we began our trek we did a quit pit-stop at the Elephant camp, where we rode a banana hungry giant for an hour as he trotted around, stopping only to ask for more bananas with his trunk, to poop, and to scratch his butt on rocks. The jungle trek was interesting, and like everything I have found on my journey a little spoiled by tourism. After a one hour hike you come up to a hut which sells Coke, Fanta, Sprite and Chang (a Thai beer), and then another, and another and another. The "tribe village" we stayed in was certainly interesting, but you could tell the bamboo hut was only built for the tourists who stop in there every night. Both nights we played poker using rocks, lychee fruit and bottle caps, and during the day we hiked, swam in two beautiful waterfalls, did some white water rafting (you could call it that, but the water level was so low we got stuck about 10 times in front of the locals who would laugh at our misfortunes, basically you could have walked faster) and rafting down the river in a bamboo raft. On our return to Chiang Mai my new friends caught the overnight bus back to Bangkok and I continue my adventure here. I plan to stay in Thailand until May 11th (then my 30-day visa ends), and possibly head to China or Laos. I will keep you updated!

Thailand: Waterfights, Ping Pongs and Crazy Drivers

2010-04-17T00:11:00.000-07:00

Have you ever imagined what it would feel like to have 500 Thai people wipe clay and a mixture of baby powder all over your face, while being covered in water from hoses, waterguns and buckets at the same time? I never had either, until I came to Songkran in Bangkok. Songkran is a festival celebrating the Thai new year that happens for 4 days all over Bangkok, which started years ago with people going to temples to get blessed with water, and has turned into all out water-warefare! The first day Rego and I got to Bangkok we got out of our cab with our bags, begged the people outside our hostel not to soak us, ran inside, immediately changed our clothes, walked outside, got soaked, bought waterguns and spent the next 10 hours playing like children. It is hard to explain this festival to someone who has never been, but imagine walking down the streets and having children, old people, locals and non-locals throwing water at you, while others carry bowls filled with a clay mixture which some nicely wipe on your cheeks with a "happy new year", while others smear roughly over your face and eyes. The main road, Khao San, is like being in the mosh pit of an outdoor concert while its raining. People are dancing, screaming, music is blairing, you're walking along with your watergun in hand, doing random face-shots as people walking by, and then BAM you get a bucket of ice cold water poured down your back. At night we stood outside our hostel throwing buckets of water at passing motorcycles, cars, tuk-tuks and even into the open windows of buses (sometimes waking people up who were sleeping!) The first day was probably the best day of my life - 95% fun. The second day was still pretty awesome - 75% fun. The last day was a mixture of fun, and "if one more person wipes clay in my eyes I am going to kill them with my watergun" - 50% fun.

After Rego and I left Kuala Lampur we headed to the Parenthian Islands, off the eastern coast of Malaysia, for 5 days of relaxation and snorkelling.
With white beaches and crystal clear water, I can pretty much say it's the closest I have ever been to paradise. Unfortuantely, Paradise on the backpacker budget limited us to staying at The Symphony Village ($6 a night), a cluster of shacks on the beach, with an outdoor sink and shower, CREEPY dirty toilets, and plenty of lizards - some were small and lived in our shack (Stevie was our favorite) and others were absolute monster-lizards, crawling around making mating noises at 7oclock in the morning.
Besides sunbathing, volleyball, snorkelling, eating, sleeping, swimming, watching movies at the local bar, and playing cards, I can't say I did anything productive while on the Parenthian Islands. Without a drop of rain, the 5 days were amazing. The only bad thing that happened is on one ill-fated snorkelling trip my "indestructable" camera popped a leak, which forced me to have to buy a new one while in Bangkok and miss out on taking pictures for several days.

Although we left reluctantly, the excitment of Bangkok and Songkran was just around the corner (and only a boat, taxi, night bus, train, shuttle bus, plane, and another taxi ride away.)

Bangkok is probably the craziest place I have ever been - two days prior to the Songkran festival, on the same Khao San road, there was a huge riot that killed 18 people, and in the same location now has on display all the pictures of the dead (brains, blood, and all). When I asked a friend how they could go from riots to partying in 2 days, he said "welcome to Bangkok." While American is a society bound by a million laws Bangkok is the complete opposite. Driving a car in Bangkok is insane. People do not follow any types of rules, swerving, weaving, beeping, going through stop lights. Buses, cars, tuk-tuks (3-wheeled open-air vehicles that squeeze 3-5 passengers in them) and motorbikes weave around eachother so much so that I CANNOT believe there are not accidents every.04 seconds.
Tons of people drive motorbikes, sometimes even on the sidewalks, and they ussually carry 2-3 people, and I commonly see children on the bikes without helmets jammed in between their mothers and fathers (sometimes as young as 1 or 2!!) When crossing the road you just go, DO NOT STOP, because the cars swerve around you and if you stop they will probably misjudge and hit you. As you walk back home at night, you will have to step over at least 10 people sleeping on the streets - literally on the street, guess they can't afford carboard boxes here in Thailand. You will also see at least 30 stray dogs and cats wandering around looking for food. The "sex section" of Thailand, whole streets of flashing lights, provides people with different options - "lady boys", "cute young boys", "hot girls" and tons of "Ping Pong Shows" where girls do crazy things with ping pongs of course, but also pull objects like razor blades and massive amounts of ropes out of themselves, some even smoke cigarettes (and not with their mouths.) Men beg you as you walk down the street to choose their Ping Pong show, pulling on your arms and flashing you pictures and prices. Did I see one? Of course - "when in Rome!"

So I recently realized I am getting fat. (If I am going to put it out there, I also noticed some cellulite, my first spider vein and several wrinkles on my face.) It might be that my body knows I am turning 28 in just a few short weeks, or it might be the insanely delicious food here in Asia at prices next to nothing. A huge plate of Pad Thai from a street Vendor will cost you about 30Baht = $1. I had a dinner out the other night with an iced coffee (which they sweeten with condensed sweetend milk, and I love it), brushetta, chicken curry and rice and it cost me an expensive 180Baht = $5.50. An ice cream cone at MacDonalds costs 9Baht= $.30. Pretty much everything is cheap in Asia. The room Rego and I are sharing has air conditioning, our own bathroom and shower, and costs us each 200baht a night= $6. An hour of Thai Massage (which I got yesterday, and it was amazing) cost 180baht = $5.50. A huge bottle of water will run you about 13 baht = $.50 (while this same bottle would cost you about $4 in Australia.) If you negotiate right, a 15 minute cab ride to the other side of town costs about 100 baht = $3. The 4-day PADI scubadiving course we start tomorrow including accomodation, bus and boat to Koa Tao, and all dives/training/certifications cost us only $9,600baht =$290!!!

So, after three days of waterfighting, and one day of sight seeing (Rego and I went to look at several temples including the Grand Palace, Wat Phra Kaew Emerald Buddah, and the Temple of Down, walked through Chinatown and shopped on Khao San Road, which is like a totally different place sans water), we head south to the beautiful Island of Ka Tao to dive, dive and dive some more! When I get back to Bangkok on the 23rd I will be PADI certified!

Hot, Crowded and Smelly

2010-04-06T07:35:00.000-07:00

I recently emailed a friend describing my time here in Asia as "hot, crowded and a little smelly", to which they replied "aren't you on vacation?!" I got quite a laugh out of it because those were never three adjectives I would use to describe my ideal getaway, but surprisingly I am loving every minute!

Even though Singapore and Kuala Lampur are some of the most "westernized" cities in Asia, I still felt serious culture shock when stepping off the airplane from Australia: * I am no longer surrounded by smiling Ozzy men and women saying "g'day mate", but am instead the obvious minority, with Asian and Indian people everywhere I look. * While the Australian dollar was pretty easy to figure out in comparison to the American Dollar, the Singapore dollar and the Malaysian Ringgit leave me seriously questioning my ability to do second grade math. Needless to say, the new low cost of things are a breathe of fresh air compared to OZ! * I have had my first run in with a true Asian toilet - a hole in the ground with grooves on the side where you put your feet and a hose to clean yourself, which I am still at a loss of how to use (all it does is leave an inch of messy water on the floor and you soaking wet.) Not to mention they don't provide toilet paper, so it was one of the first things I had to buy and now carry with me everywhere I go! * Even though there is MacDonalds, KFC, Subway, Dunkin Donuts, Pizza Hut and even Long John Silver in every country I have visited so far, to eat real Malaysia food I've had to step out of my comfort zone. Food stands down dirty alleys and on the sides of streets, nearly falling down, filled with asian workers who prepare the food with their bare hands, that I would have called "dodgy or sketchy" at home are now where I eat every meal. Throwing hygene to the wind I eat where the locals eat, devouring some of the best meals I have ever had for the price of a bottled water in Australia.

Tim and I arrived in Singpore on Wednedsay the 31st, and headed to our respective hostels. I stayed at The Drop Inn on the other side of Little India where I met up with my friend Rego (a friend from Australia), who I will be spending the next three weeks with travelling into Thailand. When Rego said there was a "food court" near the hostel I got quite excited for pizza, pasta and other things I would expect to find at a typical food court, but instead got 30 choices of Asian food, from Frog soup to sauteed liver to fried asian noodles - I had mystery meat dumplings.

The next morning Tim and I met up to hike Mt. Faber, which is really one of the only outdoor activities I could find in my lonely planet book to do in Singapore. It was like summer in Florida with phenominally high temperatures and maximum humidity leaving us both soaking wet, but the views were pretty great. If you remember one of my previous posts about the underground opal mining city in Australia, you will understand when I say that Singapore is more underground than Coober Pedy. Under every building in town there are what seems like miles of shopping malls, and more shopping malls, and more shopping malls. There are so many shopping malls that I had trouble finding my way out of them! We spent the rest of the day exploring the malls and trying to find places to walk that weren't underground. The next morning Tim and I met up again, and walked to the Botannical Gardens where we saw a group of Asians dancing to techno music, waterfalls, and the Orchid Garden (from the entrance gate because we didn't want to pay $5.)
That afternoon Rego and I took a stroll through Little India, shopped around for the lowest possible price for a bus ticket to KL (Kuala Lampur), went to the food court (again), and stayed up late (as it was our last night in Singapore.)

The next morning we walked with our backpacks for about 30 minutes (the lowest priced bus also happened to be the farthest away) and began our 6 hour bus ride into Malaysia. Rego is an amazing bus-sleeper and slept the ENTIRE way, but I stayed up for most of it looking at the Malaysian landscapes (mainly because I lent him my travel pillow and clearly wasn't getting it back.) Our Kuala Lampur hostel is in the heart of Chinatown, a fast moving place, where crossing the street is "at your own risk", booths lines the streets selling the most amazing knock-offs for next to nothing, cats hide in every corner, the ground is littered with garbage, and funky smells fill your nostrils.

After a walk through the markets, Rego had to remind me that backpackers are not carrying around huge Luis Vutton purses, so i settled for a $7 bikini instead. Dinner on the street costs between $2 - $3, a train ride is less than $.50, an amazing purse will cost you about $15, and brand new Nike sneakers would only cost about $8. The following morning we were on a mission to get to the Malaysian Grand Prix and ended up scoring tickets which included a 1 hour bus ride there for only $30. After we were accidentally let into the "nice area" we headed to our cheap seats on the hill, saw jets fly overhead and then the race began -- it was 5 hours in the sun of watching cars go vroooom vrooom vroooom at light speed, not even knowing who was winning. Needless to say the experience was once-in-a-lifetime (literally, I will only subject myself to that once!)

I chatted up some fun English guys on the bus who happened to have umbrellas (which I conveniently sat under during the race) who we met up with the next morning to hike around the city - headed to the botannical gardens (where we got to look at the infamous Mousedeers), the planetarium, Petronas Towers (formally the tallest buildings in the world), and ate another amazing meal of true Malay food. Tomorrow Rego and I take an 8 hour bus to Khota Bharu, where we catch a ferry out to the Perhentian Islands to spend 4 days basking in the sun, surfing and just plain relaxing. On the 13th we fly from KL to Thailand - Bangkok for the Thai New year (13th - 15th) where there is a HUGE waterfight on the streets and then head to Koh Tao (a southern island) for 4 days to get PADI scuba certified.

MOST AMAZING MEAL EVER!!!

Rego and I at the Botannical Gardens!

The Infamous Mousedeer

The Markets of Chinatown

Australia, you will be missed

2010-03-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

I cannot believe my six weeks in Australia has come to an end. I must have had some fun because time flew! As I spend my final nights here in Darwin (located in the northern central part of the country), I am reflecting on some of my favorite things Australia had to offer:

1.) Hot Men - Yes folks, Australian men are very good looking. Not to mention, most of them are my favorite types, they resemble lumberjacks, are tan, wear work boots, have scruffy faces and are pretty much tougher than Chuck Norris. (For those of you who don't know, when the boogie man goes to bed, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris)

2.) Gaytime Ice Cream - I don't know if I mentioned in any of my other blogs, but I recently picked up an affinity for ice cream. Although I didn't eat it much in the states, all that changed when I got on airplane and was told I was "on holiday." Needless to say, I went on streak of eating ice cream every day, which lasted for 43 days. This particular ice cream is not only delicious, but has a hysterical tagline - "It's hard to have a Gaytime alone."

3.) The "Yute" - I figure this is the Mullet of vehicles (business in front, party in the back.) It combines the sleek look of a sedan with a truck bed. When I first saw these cars I thought to myself "God, if you drove that in America you would be made fun of", but apparently they are super popular over here, as I see all makes and models everywhere I go!!

4.) "G' day Mate", "I reckon", "Heaps", "How ya Goin", "Brekkie" (Breakfast) - These are just a few of the common Australian slang words that I am going to miss hearing on a daily basis. Although the Australians don't say "throw some shrimp on the barbie" (they nicely told me that they call them prawns not shrimp), they do say all these other phrases. Here are all of them used in a sentence!

"G'day mate, how ya going? I'm so hungover, I reckon it's about time I go get heaps of greasy brekkie!"

5.) Road Trains - If you think driving a 16-wheeler might be tough, try a 64-wheeler! Because the territories are so spread out here in OZ, and there is NOTHING to see but dirt and bush for days, the Australians came up with the Road Train; a four car tractor trailer which is about the only vehicle you see while driving through the center of the country. At up to 150ft in length, they stop as easily as a regular train, so they come equipped with huge metal brush guards on the front which easily fling off the kangeroos, wallabies and even cattle that roam around the bush.

6.) 0% Gratuity - Need I say more?! Not having to pay an extra 20% at every meal is amazing.

Ahh, what fun I've had here in OZ. It will be missed. Well let me recap what I have done for the last 6 days, and what lies ahead:

After two nights in Adelaide, we headed out at 5am for our six day trek to Darwin and Kakadu National Park. Our guide, Wayne, described the tour from Adelaide to Darwin as a "glorified taxi drive", and in the scheme of things, there wasn't much to see compared to other three-day tours I have been on. We stopped at two old telegraph stations (apparently back in the day there used to be 1 wire that ran from south Australia all the way to England, which of course needed to pass through the center), the Mataranka thermal springs, the Devil's Marbles (large rocks that I lovingly called "big balls" for the rest of the tour), a beautiful waterfall and swimming hole near Katherine Gorges and the town of Katherine (which we only spent 15 minutes in because, unfortunately, most of us were scared of the drunk aboriginals roaming the streets.) As always the scenery was amazing, and although the fly population went down as we went north, the heat and humidity rose - on the day we did our hike through Katherine gorge it was 110 degrees with 80% humidity. Yes, the fro is in full effect!

After a one night stay in Darwin, we met our new guide Corey at 6am to head to Litchfield and Kakadu National Park. I never thought I would get picky about waterfalls, but after all the amazing waterholes I got to see, I liked some more than others (but of course, they were all seriously breathtaking.) We spent the morning swimming and rock jumping at the Mary River Wetlands and Florence falls. In the afternoon we took a crocodile tour down the Adelaide River (which has the highest population of Saltwater Crocodiles in the world). As i've mentioned before, there isn't much that scares me, but MY GOD having crocodiles this size right next to you, brings back flashbacks of the movie lake placid where the croc jumps up and bites a guys head off. It was pretty freaky!! After a night camping, we headed to look at some aboriginal art (which I am sorry to say, looks a little like something a 4 year old might do), looked at termite houses the size of trucks, hiked up to a spectaular look out, and then did some swimming in another plunge pool and waterfall. On our third day we got up at 6am and drove to the south of Kakadu National Park to beat the other tour buses to another waterfall, which we got to ourselves for almost an hour, headed to yet another waterfall, and then did the long 4-hour drive back into Darwin. And that concludes my 21 Adventure Tour!

So what's next? On Wednesday Tim and I meet up to fly to Singpore. Once we arrive, he is heading to the Phillipines for three weeks and I am going to trek through Malaysia with my friend Rego for 10 days. I will arrive in Bangkok, Thailand for their New Year on April 10th and plan on spending a month there, exploring the country and surrounding islands. Then another two months in Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and possibly Indonesia and Bali (to do some more scuba diving.) I am hoping to head to South America around the middle of August for a 4 month adventure!! As much as it kills my mother to say, I am currently on the "no plan, plan", so all this might change depending on funds and who I meet along the way to travel with. I'll keep you posted.

All I can say is, "life is good"!!!!!!!

A Patriot in the Outback

2010-03-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

So apparently I am patriotic. I never would have considered myself to be "pro-America" if you asked me, but the more time I spend away, and the more foreigners I meet, the more I find myself standing up for my native country and being called Patriotic by those around me. Generally speaking, America does not have a good reputation abroad; we are known for our elaborate pop culture, celebrity obsession, unsteady presidency, extreme obesity, loud obnoxious voices and an attitude of "our country is better than yours." When I asked a group of Candadians excitedley if they were American (their accents sound extremely similar to Americans), they replied "no!" in disgust. My Swiss friend said her teacher in school taught her that Americans were stupid, mainly referring to the "valley girls"from California. My Danish friends told me that although everyone in Coppenhagen wants to be like Americans (dress, culture, etc.), in school they watch all the Michael Moore documentaries ("Bowling for Columbine", "Supersize me", etc.) and think this is how Americans live - that most people will walk into a bank at some point in their lives and buy a gun, and will always supersize will eating MacDonalds once a day. An English friend asked me sarcastically what I thought of our "perfect new President", and another Englishman engaged me in an hour long debate, stating that 1,000 of the best English Soldiers could crush 1,000 of the best American soldiers in a fight. Although Americans are generally considered close-minded, I find that most of the people I meet are more close minded in their views of Americans than we are of any other country. It doesn't help that so few Americans actually travel (I think it is some astronimical statistic like only 20% of our population has passports), to give other countries an accurate view of what our people are really like.

I mentioned above that Americans are known to have a better-than-you attitude, and let me tell you that after hearing about the governmental systems and political structures of other countries, I might want to abandon my patriotism and make my home somwhere else. In Australia and New Zealand everyone recycles, they are so environmentally conscious it is ridiculous (even the toilets give you an ecological option - push a button for #1 which will use less water, or another button for a #2 which of course will use more). In almost every country 6 weeks vacation time is standard, and many employers will offer their employees to take paid weeks or months of absence every year. People are encouraged to travel (at all ages!) In Denmark, granted they pay about 50% of their wages in taxes, everything is free: doctor, hospital, schooling, etc. (The government even gives people up to an extra $2,000 a month in spending money when they choose to go to University!) Although Patriotic, I am beginning to think we should take some advice from our foreign neighbors and make some changes to America!

Well anyway, enough political rambling. After my stay in Melbourne I caught an early bus with a lot of new faces, on a 3 day tour headed along the Ocean road to Adelaide. My new friends from Denmark said the first morning they met me at 5am they swore I was drunk (I was extremely energetic, introducing myself to the bus as the co-pilot!)

Our first stop was to a town called Torquay where the company Rip Curl started and made their headquarters (huge surfer town) and then onto Bells Beach where I caught my first glimpse of Koala bears, which are actually boring furry blobs that sleep all day. We did a treetop walk through the rainforrest called the Otway Fly and then headed to look at the 12 Apostles, large rocks jutting out into the sea (although there are only 8 left!)

The next two days we did more driving along the Great Ocean Road looking at sandstone and more sandstone, hiking in Grampians National Park and a place called Hollow Mountain and even checked out a beautiful waterfall called Mackenzie Falls. When we arrived in Adelaide they were having their yearly month-long festival, but it just looked like a plain old carnival to me, except with more freak shows (there was a man who could breathe through his eyes?!)

We spent two fun days in Adelaide, and then I began my 6 day Adventure Tour to Alice Springs. Now sitting comfortably in my air conditioned room in Alice Springs, I can finally begin to enjoy the Outback. Don't get me wrong the sites I have seen were amazing, but holy cow the outback is hot, infested with flies, and unfortunately a lot of drunk aboriginals. In America if there is one fly buzzing around you its annoying, now imagine that times 100. I have officially become a licensed Fly Killer and slaughtered 58 (yes I kept count) unsuspecting flies in the past 6 days. My travel around the world flip-flops have now become my weapons of choice. The flies are so bad, we all had to wear fly hats everywhere we went, and the one time I forgot my hat a fly kamazazied right up my nose (no joke, and it still hasn't come out.) After we left Adelaide we hiked the Dutchman's Stern for stunning 360 degree views of a town called Quorn, Spencer Gulf and the Flinders Ranges, hiked Wilpena Pound, checked out the salt lakes (Australia used to be covered by an inland ocean, and these dried up salt sheets are whats left) then we spent two nights in Quorn. For dinner on our first night we ate Camel Sausages, Emu Burger and Kangeroo Steaks - yummy!!

Coober Pedy is a small town, built basically in the middle of the desert by Opal Miners, who after getting here decided it was too hot to live outside, so they put their village underground. I am pretty sure no amount of opals could get me to live here! After an afternoon of feeding Joeys (Kangerroo babies), we spent the night in an underground bunkhouse and headed out the next morning at stupid o'clock for a 500KM drive to Yulara a town that has built up next to the famous Uluru (Ayers Rock.) We caught sunset at Uluru but what I thought would be a beautiful display of nature, was eclipsed by the 40 other tourist buses, and the massive amount of tailgating going on (each bus provided its passengers with champagne and appetizers while they watched a rock do nothing.) I did keep it interesting by hitting on one of the hot bus drivers (and earned $10 from by crew for getting his phone number), and Adam (who I met up with while in Alice Springs) actually turned out to be a great guy!

The next two nights we slept in traditional Aussie Swags - a waterproof sleeping bag- under the stars (hoping a grasshopper, stink bug, super duper large ant with the biggest pinchers I have ever seen, or snake didn't crawl into bed with you). It was actually the best nights sleep I have had in a while. The next day we woke up again at the ass-crack of dawn (breakfast at 4am!) and headed to Kings Canyon to do a 3 hour hike before the sun got too hot. In the middle of the canyon is a swimming hole called The Garden of Eden, where I took a dip in my clothes because I accidentally dropped my camera down the rock embankment and although I thought it might be lost to the deep water, was able to wade out and find it. Luckily I know myself well enough and took a shockproof/waterproof camera with me before I headed on my travels. Overall it was a lot of driving, but exceptionally beautiful scenery and lots of laughs. Tomorrow we head out at 5:10am for our 6 day adventure to Darwin and Kakadu National Park!

Time is of the essence

2010-03-10T03:55:00.000-08:00

I openly admit that my memory is pretty bad. I have trouble remembering what I ate for dinner yesterday, nevermind things from before the age of 12. However, I can vividly remember the day when my mother forgot to turn the clocks forward. I was probably about 8, and like any other Sunday my mother, sister and I headed to church to be there as it began at 10am. Needless to say when we arrived at what we thought was a little before 10, everyone was singing and looking at us like we were insane. We soon realized that we had forgot to turn our clocks and were actually arriving as Church ended. At least in this instance, besides suffering from slight embarassment, we didn't have the overhwhelming stress of being late. That has not been the case for me the past couple of days. The morning of my Great Barrier Reef dive, I was all set to get up at 6:30, for a 7:30 check-in at the boat. I double-checked my vodofone alarm, and went to sleep after a great day exploring Cairns. In the morning I woke up and looked at my wrist watch and read 7:30. How could this be happening!?! Apparently my vodofone wasn't set forward to the correct time. I did a mad dash downstairs at my hostel to see if someone could drive me to the harbor, and when I got there ran all the way down the pier to my boat in a bikini (thats all I had a chance to grab) waving my ticket. The nice gentlman from Colorado standing outside the boat told me that check-in was actually from 7:30 to 8:30 and that I was not late, but asked me to please go back to the main office and check-in properly, which I did, still in my bikini, but this time laughing with all the people who had just seen my half-naked body sprinting in the other direction. You would think that after this happening I would learn from my mistake, but no. The other morning I had a 6:45 am pick-up outside my hostel in Sydney to begin my 21 day Adventure Tour through the center of Australia. I had my alarm set for 6:15 (this is sounding familiar), but when I awoke and read my wrist watch (7:15). Holy crap. Not only did this tour cost me about $2,500 but if I missed it, I would miss my flight from Darwin to Singapore on March 31st. I ran downstairs in my underwear, and once I got the number for the tour company, begged them to come back and pick me up. Luckily the driver was nice enough to turn around and come get me (which NEVER happens.) I apologized for starting our relationship off on a bad foot, but assured him that he would grow to love me. Since then Squirtal (he refuses to tell me how he got that name) has grown to love his self appointed co-pilot.

Diving The Great Barrier Reef, was all that I hoped it would be, but certainly not what I expected. I always imagined the reef being right on the coast, fairly small, surrounded by crystal clear water and white sand beaches. I soon found out that the reef itself is hundreds of miles long, and that it takes a 2 hour boat ride to get there! When I always heard how tourists are destroying the reef I never fathomed how that was possible - but on the day I dove there must have been 200 people on my boat, and 25 other boats doing the exact same thing. Don't be fooled, this is a money making enterprise, shuttling out 4,000 poeple a day, at at least $200 a person, who kick, touch and step on the reef, I can see now how it is being destroyed at a price. Since the reef is so large, the "exclusive site" our boat stopped out was only for us. I liked my first dive so much that I booked two more 45 minute dives in the afternoon. The food was fantastic, the instructors were cute, the underwater scenery was beautiful, the sun was shining and the adrenaline was pumping. Some people weren't comfortable breathing underwater and couldn't go down, but this was made for me! I felt like Ariel from the Little Mermaid except I couldn't talk underwater, which was probably the most frustrating part for me, as I had a million things to say and jokes to make about everything (but I had to stop myself from laughing underwater which I learned the hard way floods water into your mask, and at 30ft below sea level that isn't fun!)

After all my travels, and adrenaline pumping activities, I was beginning to think I was fearless - white water rafting, bungey jumping, sky diving, caving, snorkelling - nothing has been too scary for me. BUT on my last day in Cairns I finally met my match and found something that scared the crap out of me - driving a scooter. Go ahead laugh, but they are scary!!! My friend Fraser and I rented these bright yellow beasts to drive outside of town to swimming holes, cliff jumping and rainforrests. They were heavy, akward, and since everytime I took my hand off the handle bar I rocked from side to side, I wasn't able to itch my face for long periods at a time, not to mention all the people driving by at 100mph flicking us off and screaming at us as we cruised along at granny-speed. Even with all these perrils, the trip out of town was amazing!

As I mentioned before, I began my 21 day Adventure Tour on Monday. We headed first to the capital of Australia, Canberra, which was kind of like a ghost town, but we did get to see the parliment buildings and a quick visit to the local mall. We stayed the night in the Alpine Village of Thredbo, and got up early in the morning to hike "The Roof of Australia" or better known as Mt Kosciuszko (the highest mountain in OZ.) It was only slightly raining at the bottom of the mountain but after we took the chairlift up the rain began, and it didn't stop. I quickly earned the nickname "G.I. Jane" because I stormed up the hill ready to get to the summit, and as I marched on I felt like Luitenant Dan from Forrest Gump, battling the elements, but much to my dismay, even though I got the farthest of anyone in my group, I had to turn around 2.5km from the top because the weather was unbearable. After I got feeling back in my fingers, and changed my soaking wet clothes, we headed along the Barry Way, an extremely windy road with spectacular views overlooking the Snowy River. We spent the night in the coastal town of Lakes Entrance, the gateway to the Gippsland Lakes and Australia's longest beach - Ninety Mile Beach. After an early morning rise (6:30am, which seems so much earlier now that I am unemployed) we headed to Australia's most southerly point, Wilsons Promontory National Park. We saw all sorts of Australian wildlife on our trip. We all swormed out of the car to take a picture of a large snake in the middle of the road, then turned the bus around and while driving past watched the snake be smooshed by an uncoming truck. We also saw (living) wombats, kangeroos, emu's and lots of other little creatures, as well as large granite rocks and beautiful coastal views. After a brief night in Melbourne tonight, tomorrow I get up early again to head along the Great Ocean Road and on to Adelaide.

Youth is wasted on the young (and wasted)

2010-03-03T23:30:00.000-08:00

I can't believe how many of the people I am surrounded by on a daily basis drink their trips away. Most of the travelers spend their nights drinking and partying, and their days hungover and sleeping. I told someone I was going running in the morning and they said "of all the people I have met, no one has ever told me that!" As I moved my way up the coast of Australia I was introduced to a new word, which I hear at least 20 times a day, "goon." This drink, which Americans know as boxed wine, is 14% alcohol and taken with backpackers everywhere they go. Forget the beautiful white beaches of Fraser Island, or the scenic landscape of the Whitsundays, people care if there will be enough goon to last the entire trip. I find myself saying things like "I'm too old for this", and the fact of the matter is that I am one of the older travellers on the backpacking route, and because I don't drink am considered an anomaly by most. I suppose if I were in my early twenties (it hurts to admit that I'm not anymore) like most of the travelers are, I would too have been seeing the world from a bar stool. Thank God I am older and wiser now (and that may be the last time you hear me say that!)

I am not a good surfer. My surfing lesson in Byron bay was fairly successful, I think only because the instructor basically holds you in place until you catch a wave. I made friends with one of my instructors, Danny (from California) and he hooked me up with a board for the next two days. Watching me surf would be like watching America's Funniest Home Videos over and over again. I try to get to a wave, and get knocked over. I try to get up on the board, fall off and get hit with the board. But I was persistent and managed to get a little better as the days went on. Byron bay is a cute little hippy town on the coast with beautiful beaches, a lighthouse overlooking the ocean and a bar that offers $5 dinners and wet t-shirt contests every night called "The Cheeky Monkey" ( I couldn't pass up $5 dinners, so I was there two nights in a row!) Since I heard bad reviews on Surfer's Paradise I stayed an extra night in Byron Bay and went from there directly to Brisbane. At first glance I thought Brisbane was kind of a deserted city, but once I got a little further into town I found it to have some pretty neat things to offer - an amazing modern art museum, a large public pool and a farmers market. After some Indian food (I get cravings for it) and a horrible George Clooney movie in the TV room I went to bed early.

From there I took a bus to Hervey Bay, which would be the kick-off to my two night Fraser Island excursion. When the travel agent told me the trip would be "self roving" I didn't understand exactly what that meant, but I soon found out that I would be matched up with a group of 8 other backpackers (I had a fantastic group which consisted of 1 Irish,5 English, 1 Australian and 1 Israeli), stuck into a large pink Toyota land cruiser and we would then have to make our way around Fraser - the largest sand island in the world. When they tell you Fraser is a sand island they mean it - not only is there sand on all the beaches, there is sand for roads, sand in the Forrest's, and even sand in the wind (which results in sand in your food, hair, ears, and basically everywhere else.) I may not be a good surfer, but I was made to drive 4x4 vehicles. The only thing I could think of when driving was the Simpson's episode when Marge buys an SUV called the "Ranchero" and starts driving over things in her road rage. Of course none of the foreigners knew what I was referring to (most of my jokes are lost on them) but boy was driving on the beaches fun! We had a pink car convoy with about 25 people total (I was the only American) and we drove and camped all over the island. The Island was filled with Dingoes (they look like cute dogs, but apparently go Cujo on you if you feed them) which were made into the latest drinking game (anytime we saw one we'd yell "Dingo" everyone would have to drink); Mosi's (also known as Mosquitoes); massive amounts of sharks and jelly fish in the ocean water (which you can't swim in it, but fortunately Fraser has the MOST beautiful lakes I have ever seen); a shipwreck and swimming pools that fill with ocean water known as the Champagne Pools. After two days on the island we were all ready to head back. We took the BEST showers of our lives and danced the night away (and somehow I managed to fist pumped my hand into a ceiling fan while dancing on a table, and cut it, but still had a blast). The next morning we took a walk to the Shark Show, this two-room shark exhibit with clippings all over the wall of all the peopel who have died from sharks. Uhh, why did I pay $12 for this? Either way, the Fraser Island trip was by far was one of my best experiences I have had while being away!

After another night bus (woo hoo, I save $ on overnight accommodation), I arrived in Airlie beach. Like most of the places I have seen so far on the east coast of Australia, this town is no exception - it is a beach town, with cute little surf shops, crazy night-life and public pool called "The Lagoon" because the oceans are too filled with Jelly fish to swim in. Unfortunately, which no one seemed to tell me until I got here, it is the rainy season, so like Florida Summers, the beautiful afternoons are interrupted by the most random and ridiculous downpours.

The next morning, I got all my stuff together to do a two-day sailing trip through the Whitsundays - gorgeous islands located off the coast. It turned out that one of my friends from home, Matt, was on the same sailboat as me, The Freight Train, along with 17 other peopel and 3 crew members. As I sit today restfully in my bed, still mentally rocking from the last two days on the ocean, I will do my best to articulate what I did and didn't like about sailing. I loved the ocean, I loved the feeling of moving up and down on the waves, I loved the scenery. Scuba diving was amazing - fishes, coral, large objects that looked like brains and clams and mazes. I loved getting cooked for - we had three meals a day and snacks in between! We all learned on our first night why the boat may have been called The Freight Train - our skipper, AKA captain Mark, snored like a hippo, keeping everyone below deck up all night long. Even with my earplugs in (I cannot live without earplugs and a face mask these days), I could still feel the mammoth vibrations coming through. I didn't like the snoring. I didn't like how hot it was under the deck (with 18 people sleeping on beds made for children it was hot!). I didn't like the group of 6 Italians who used up all the fresh water taking 3 showers a day, when the rest of us didn't take any. I didn't like the smell - after just a couple short hours everything smelled like sewer. Even when dinner was being cooked I would think "mmm dinner smells good", then "ewww poop", and that would go back and forth depending on how the boat was rocking. I didn't like the roaches I kept finding scurrying around in my bed. I ended up sleeping on the deck both nights (because of the a for mentioned conditions), and with that came its own downfalls - hard ceramic floor, waking up soaking wet from the rain, tornado-like winds and of course the smells still creep ed their way outside - but at least I steered clear of the freight train hippo.

I am back on dry land and showered up, ready to meet my boat crew tonight at the Beaches bar for free drinks and some dinner. Tomorrow I leave on another overnight bus to Cairns where I will do my Great Barrier Reef dive!!

The Land of Oz

2010-02-17T23:30:00.000-08:00

I have yet to see Lions, Tigers or Bears, but what I have seen here in The Land of Oz are Asians, Bats, "Suits" and Cockroaches (will explain further.) Although fairly prevalent in New Zealand, Sydney seems to have a very large Asian population and they make up a large percentage of the city's tourists. I got my foot stepped on two times by Asians trying to take pictures (once running in the park and another time on the ferry), and always seem to get caught up in some massive tour group. Between the 70 year old Chinese man who was jumping out of planes with us in New Zealand, and the consistent amount of Asians I have seen, I am amazed at the worldliness of those in their culture - they really are world travellers (who love to take pictures)!! In the heart of Sydney there are the most amazing Botanical Gardens which I've had the pleasure of jogging through twice since I've been here (Yes, I am still jogging because if I am going to do this travelling stuff for a full year, I can no longer consider it a "holiday".) Like a scene out of "The Birds", I looked up to see BOUS - bats of unusual size (Princess Bride reference for those who don't know it) swarming over my head. The Australian bats have it a lot better than the American bats though, they are about as big as seagulls, don't fly using radar (they can see), and of course, they get a view of the Opera House every morning. Granted I haven't gotten to the "outback" yet, but I imagined Sydney to be a little different, it is a real bustling city. Just like New York everything is moving fast and it seems everywhere I look there are people in suits. I was even at the beach today and saw a lady walking around in a suit!

The hostel I stayed at in Sydney is probably the grossest I have encountered so far on my journey. The other night as I hung up my bathing suit to dry, I saw something scurry on the wall next to me out of the corner of my eye. Fortunately there is a French girl in my room who basically lives here (because Sydney is so expensive, its cheaper to live in a hostel than rent a room), and I guess from past experiences has bought Cockroach spray which she left on the desk. At this point the battle ensued. I was spraying the critter with a crazed passion, like my life depended on it. It was running and jumping like an Olympic athlete. It ended up jumping into my bag, which I carried at an arms length away into the hallway and dumped out. I had sprayed him enough that I stood there and watched him die. After I had carried his corpse to the trash can I headed back into my room, and looked up at the wall. Apparently a death memo had gone out, and my dead friend's relative was there on my wall to avenge. At this point the stand-off started. I waited 20 minutes in the hallway (in my underwear) watching, waiting, and he did the same. Finally someone came along and climbed up on the bed, brushed him down, and threw him out the window. Turns out my hero was not only from Connecticut, but even went to my high school (although he is 10 years younger than me)!!!! I finally began to understand what they mean when they say "it's a small world!"

A couple more fun-filled days in Sydney included a 1 hour tour of the Sydney Opera House (which I was shocked to learn took 16 years to build), an evening trip to see a 3 hour Italian opera called Tosca where my friend Aliette and I sat behind the Governor of Australia (but couldn't stop giggling through the entire performance; I am pretty sure the Opera is not for me), a nighttime Harbor walk with Tim and Stef, and a day trip out to The Blue Mountains with Stef, Tim and Aliette. The landscape out to The Blue Mountains was beautiful, but the mountains were as blue as the purple mountains majesty are purple, which I hear aren't purple at all. With several Disneyesque characters explaining how they used to mine the area, a ride on the "steepest rail car in the world" (and a failed second ride, they caught on to our 'we left our camera at the bottom' ploy) and an attempt to speak like Ozzie's and not use the word "the" for the entire train ride home.

Last night I took an overnight Greyhound bus to Byron Bay (which is GREAT because I don't have to spend money on accommodation), where I rented a bike and rode around town, and met an awesome guy named rob and i... no we, decided to get married. No not really, but he did ask me, and he also wrote that last sentence. I have a surf lesson tomorrow morning and another night in Byron Bay before I head up north to Surfer's Paradise!

Single Serving Friendships

2010-02-10T19:18:00.000-08:00

On the road, you rarely get a second helping of anyone. Most backapckers are so wrapped up in doing their own thing that the time you spend together is brief - planes to catch, buses are leaving, you're going this way and i'm going that way. I can't tell you how much time I have spent trying to get to know someone, only to find out they are hopping off at the next bus stop. One of the reasons I decided to plan this adventure was to be a little more interesting and to get away from the small talk of life. When friends and family asked me "so what are you up to these days? Got a boyfriend yet? Bought a home? How's the job?", I could shock everyone with my ingenious plan to travel the world, and cut through all the small talk. Little did I know that I would be wrapped up in the same chit-chat thousands of miles away; "where are you from? how long have you been travelling? where will you go next? how old are you?" After a single serving of each person, you both go on your merry way, and even if you want a second helping (lets say from a very hot guy) you can't have it because backpackers are made to be on the road.

I'm here in Christchurch New Zealand, staying with my friend Torry who I have spent lots of time with over the last 10 years. The best part is that we don't have to small talk and I get my own room which has put Christchurch on the top of my list of places I've visisted. It's actually 11:00am on Thursday and I am still in bed - why not!? After smores and bonfires at Gunns Camp last week we headed to Invercargal. Since Metro, the bus driver, has become my oldest friend on this trip I took it upon myself to be his self-appointed co-pilot, which includes front seat driving privaledges, access to insider information and of course the rights to change the music. Although the rest of the bus wasn't into it, I instituted a "POWER BALLAD MORNING" and belted out such classics as Phil Collins Take a look at me now, and Starship's We Built this City on Rock and Roll. In the words of Metro, "I have never been so happy."

Invegargal is the New Jersey of New Zealand, so after a quick walk around and a couple freak-show sightings I decided to sit in the Hostel's TV room and watch the Lord of the Rings (One and Two.) That night we all headed to a comedy show at the local pub, which turned out to be pretty hysterical -anyone who puts rubber bands on their face and tries to talk should get their own show.

Catlin's way is the southern most coastal road that runs along New Zealand (and no, shockingly it wasn't named after yours truly.) We stopped and looked at petrified forrests, lighthouses, and beautiful beaches on our trek from Invecargal to Dunedin, and arrived in the city around 5:00pm. While some people went on a brewery tour (Timmy), I walked around the city and explored. After a bunch of us went out for the MOST amazing Indian food I have ever had we headed to a weird 70's disco club called Fever (which had 3 people in it, one of which had a full suit on and loved to disco dance), and then to a college bar called the Stock Exchange. The next morning I went on a 9:30am tour of the Dunedin Cadbury Chocolate Factory, which I would have slept through had I known that the factory was in fact closed on Sundays, but the tour guides outfit pretty much made up for the dissapointment. With a bright purple pair of overalls, he didn't appreciate my parting question of "does the purple teletubbie know you raided his wardrobe?"

Another two nights in Queenstown, which has been by far my favorite city along the way, meant another bungee jump (off The Nevis which is over 400ft!), another ferberger (collasal sized beef patty this time with pinneapple and tomatoe relish, soooo good) and more adrenaline pumping activites (I also went up to the top of the look out on a gondala and then lugeing down the mountain on these little go-karts passing people at high rates of speed.) I arrived in Christschurch after a 7 hour bus ride two days ago and Torry and I spent some time walking around the city yesterday. There is a beautiful cathedral in the center of town that we walked through, which prompted me to wonder why this town is called Christchurch, but then I bought some caramel chococlates and stopped caring. Today we are headed to the beaches although the weather is overcast and rainy. Tomorrow I fly to Auckland for a Valentines day flight to Sydney, Austraillia!

Adrenaline Junkie

2010-02-04T15:01:00.000-08:00

Hi my name is Caitlin, I am an Adrenaline Junkie, and New Zealand is made for people like me. Although bungee jumping is derived from an ancient tribal ceremony (but then they used long reeds and attached them to their wieners, not their feet!), the way we know bungee jumping today was INVENTED in New Zealand back in the 80's. When I went skydiving in the USA there were two places close by, and by close by I mean about 2 hours away. In New Zealand you never have to drive far to skydive, there is a place to do it in every town. These islands offer white water rafting, jet boating, sledging (going down a river with a little floating device), para sailing, hang gliding, paragliding, zorbing (a huge ball half filled with water that you roll down a hill), helihiking, extreme karts, and soooooo much more AND I'm addicted to all of it. I can finally understand why my cousin Brendan has spent so many years out west mountain biking and snowboarding, fending off "real jobs" - I could make a career out of doing crazy stuff!!
After leaving Makarora we headed briefly to Wanaka, a small town right on the water surrounded by huge snow capped mountains (but that seems to be the way all the towns are here!) On the way from Wanaka to Queenstown we stopped at the first ever created AJ Hackett Bungee Jump at The Kawarau Bridge, 43 meters above a river. I wasn't going to jump because I wanted to spend my money on The Nevis a bungee jump in Queenstown that towers above the rest at 134 Meters, BUT after watching the "get pumped up promotional video" I couldn't say no. So instead of buying just the Nevis I bought The Thrilology (a 3-pack for the Kawarau Bridge, The Nevis and The Nevis Arc Swing) for a mere $450 New Zealand Dollars (about $375 American Dollars.) The wait time was 5 minutes, I got my feet all strapped in and headed out to the ledge. After posing for pictures they said "ok jump", so I did! My swan dive was so far out that I didn't touch the water at the bottom like I was supposed to, and I jumped so quickly that my videographer missed the first part of my jump!! Besides the overwhelming feeling that your eyeballs might pop right out of your head, the feeling is amazing. I jump The Nevis on February 8th - I can't wait!
Even though everyone described Queenstown as a tourist trap, I loved it. First off they have a place called Fergberger, known for the largest and most delicious burgers in New Zealand and I can't vouch for that!! Secondly, they have a beautiful lake surrounded by a running path and rocky beaches, so I got in a long run and a couple of swims. Lastly, they have an amazing night life with tons of bars and people out having fun. I stayed there one full day and then we headed south, took a ferry out into The Milford Sound (which is just plain gorgeous), and then back to our accommodation for the evening, a place called Gunns Camp. The metal huts that make up Gunns Camp were constructed back in the 1930's for the workers building the only tunnel to the sound, and although they have some historical significance, sleeping in them was another story. At first a sight for sore eyes, they turned out to be pretty comfortable (probably because I stole the only double bed in the whole place.) The only thing I could have done without were the millions of sand flies (they look like gnats but BITE) and the power going out at 10:00pm. After our meal of "bangers and mash" (sausage and mashed potatoes), I made our bus driver Metro get us all smores. The most hysterical thing I have seen so far on this trip are a bunch of foreigners trying to make smores and asking us Americans the perfect way to do it. I, of course, have my own style that comes from sheer lack of patience (I let my marshmallow burn, then melt my chocolate with the burning mallow), which most people didn't adopt. Even though we had to make them on biscuits (cookies) instead of graham crackers they were a hit here in New Zealand. Glad to know I can carry the tradition overseas!!

Too much blogging?

2010-02-01T20:58:00.000-08:00

I was recently told by someone that I am "blogging the sh*t out of my trip", so much so that they didn't actually read the text, but at least looked at the 3 pictures. To be honest, keeping an electronic diary has become quite a burden. I have never been the correspondence type, nor the person who whips out a camera everywhere I go to take pictures - BUT I am trying. My sister keeps reminding me that this is my journal that I'll read years later, so for those out there who can't swallow all the text, I'm sorry, I'll start posting more pictures.
New Zealand is made for backpackers. As we travel along the country side in our bright orange STRAY bus, we pass at least 10 other similar buses (Kiwi Experience - "The Green Drunken Sex Wagon", filled with 18-24 year olds looking to get drunk and score; The Flying Kiwi - designed for the more outdoorsy types as they have mountain bikes attached to the back; South Island Tours - filled with people 50+, except for that one young person who wants to kill their travel agent) and at least 30 small camper vans (designed for those who want to explore the country without a guide and 40 other people.) Each town has at least 5 hostels; I have yet to see a nice hotel. Everywhere I go I see people tramping (not what you think I mean - in NZ this means hiking), with huge backpacks and hiking boots. Cafes and restaurants have signs for "backpackers welcome". You're probably wondering what kind of people are backpacking. In my bus right now (its a hop on/ hop off bus so the people are ever-changing), there are lots of Germans, Dutch, Canadians, and English - there is one other American guy from Oregon. About 75% are under 25, and about 50% are travelling alone. 100% have bigger bags than me. One of the girls today told me she was dreaming about poopies last night. Everyone is always asking for help with their English, and since she didn't ask, I figured she was actually dreaming about poopies. Turned out she meant puppies, but I had a good laugh.
After Abel Tasman we headed to a "nowhere town" called Barrytown. Since there is nothing to do there, each night (except Mondays and Thursdays) a Stray bus rolls in with people ready to get drunk. Two local teenagers actually walk 7 miles each night to hopefully hook up with some drunken Strays. Our theme party was "anything but clothes" which of course made for some scandalous outfits (ace bandages seemed like a good idea hours earlier when I was at the dollar store.) The next morning our hungover bus (except me, of course, I was bright eyed and bushy tailed) headed south to Franz Josef and spent the night at the Rainforrest hostel where I had to do laundry, again! The next morning at 8:15 I hiked the Franz Josef glacier, and discovered the ONLY word that rhymes with Tampon, a CRAMPON! I want to have these things in my everyday life, not just on large hunks of ice. They are spikes that attach to your shoes, I called them "Spidey Shoes", because you could walk on ice, snow and rocks and never slip. After 8 hours of climbing and digging into the ice, I came off the glacier and went right to the hot pools to sit and relax. This morning we headed out to where we are now, Makarora. We made a couple of stops to look at waterfalls, the fox glacier, and the southern alps. Basically watch The Lord of the Rings and you will see what I am seeing everyday. When we got into town (I say town, but it is a hostel on a hill, and thats it) we hopped on some JetBoats and rode about 50mph on this shallow river doing spins and turns and getting wet. Just another adrenaline pumping day here in New Zealand!!

I've found Paradise

2010-01-28T22:18:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday evening here in New Zealand around 5:30pm, and because of my handy new Timex Ironman watch I can flip back to USA time with a click of a button - its 11:30pm yesterday for you guys! It has been a couple of days since my last post because time really does fly when you're having fun, and with all the daytime adrenaline pumping activities and the evenings festitivies there hasn't been much time to write. Thankfully my watch also tells me what day it is, or I might completely lose track of time here in paradise. I have spent a good majority of my first week here in NZ wondering why more people don't live here. Timmy was telling me that Washington DC has a larger population than the whole county of New Zealand. With amazing mountains, lush forrests, the MOST beautiful beaches I have ever seen, and some of the hottest, tannest, scruffiest, fun-loving and funny men I have met, I'm surprised there hasn't been a serious American emmigration. Although there are some things Americans (like myself) would hate; what I like to call "New Zeland time", everyone takes forever to do everything; the metric system, I never have any idea what temperature something is, how tall something is, nothing.
After my last post at the Maori camp, we headed early the next morning to Rotorua where I hopped off to white water raft. Six beautiful male instructors got us all suited up in flotations devices (they don't call them life jackets anymore because they will not save your life if you're too dumb to not swim when drowning), booties and helmets. Although the trip was brief we took the raft down the largest waterfall that commercial rafts can go down in the world. Our guide, Chunk, didn't seem to take anything too seriously as he was really hungover, but we all survived. Then we headed back into Rotorua to pick up the other bus members who didn't raft and then we all headed to a town called Taupo. While the others went skydiving (I didn't do it, since it costs $300 and I've already done it twice), I grabbed a coffee and went to the grocery store with a girl name Verina I met on the bus. When the rest of the crew came back that night we all headed to a Bar called Mulligans (because my new busmate shares the same last name), where we all wore different hats provided by the bar - I rocked the pink cowboy hat most of the night - and told the locals it was my bachelorette party as I was marrying a native Kiwi (what they called people from New Zealand) I had only known for two weeks.
Very early the next morning we hopped back on the bus which at this point is growing very smelly, and headed to National Park, where I had been hoping the weather would hold up to hike the Tongorria Crossing an 8 hour hike through three volcano craters, one of which was Mt. Doom from The Lord of the Rings. Luckily we got the OK to hike and headed up around 10am. The 500 steps in the second hour nearly killed me. Most of the first 3 hours was uphill which prompted the guides to create fast and slow groups so we all could go at appropriate paces, (of course Captain Competitive was at the front of the fast group), and after about 4 hours we arrived at the summit, which is about 2,000 meters high (as previously mentioned, I have no idea how high this is.) The views were breathtaking and of course, knowing that The Lord of the Rings was filmed there was pretty awesome. The last 3 hours we got caught up in a serious downpour where I got to test my brand new Marmot raincoat which held up perfectly, unfortunately my shoes and pants didn't. I arrived back at the hostel looking like a drowned rat, to my 5 other roomates, another load of laundry (that is the territory that comes with having only 3 pairs of underwear) and a hottub (which I got in immediately.)
Ok what day am I up to - Tuesday I think? It's a tough life out here, I can't even remember what I ate for lunch, nevermind what I did two days ago! So we left National Park and heading to Wellington. On our way we stopped at a beautiful waterfall and a hot spring hole that supposedly had natural healing powers. There were so many people crammed into this little hole that I think my healing power went to someone else. We arrived in Wellington, a city that reminded me of a combination of Denver and San Fransico, around 2:00pm. After getting set up in the hostel, headed straight to the National Museum. It was a really modern museum with a lot of touch screens and interactive exhibitis which certainly made it more fun than your typical museum. At 5:00 Tim, Emer, Liz and I did a little shopping so I could satisfy my desire to fit in with the other "fashionable" backpackers, but when I came out of the store and was asked what cute things I bought, I pulled out a pair of black running pants and two athletic shirts - I just can't get the practical thinking out of my head!! We then ate a delicious dinner at a Malaysian restaurant, and took the WEllington cable car up to the Botanical gardens to watch the "California Deamers", a 1960's cover band. At the end of the rivetting performance we walked through the gardens which are lit up amazingly by the city. In an failed attempt to catch the Cable Car back down to the city, we got lost in the dark part of the gardens, Liz fell in a hole, and we had to spend $25 on a cab to get us to the Cuba street bars. After a couple of bar hops, and no cute men to prowl on, I headed home for the evening.
Yesterday morning I caught the 7am ferry to the South Island. I sat outside for the 4 hour ride because the mountanious coastline was amazing to watch. We landed in Picton (to those of you who know me, you probably can guess why this town held a special significance), but only stayed there briefly on our bustrek to the Abel Tasman national park. After a long day on the bus and a quick grocery store stop, we arrived at Old MacDonald's farm in the Abel Tasman Natiional park last night around 6pm. Our busdriver, Metro, made us some mussels and we all hung out around a fire pit and ate our homemade dinners (I had a bowl of cereal and a roll with turkey on it.) Old MacDonalds is a little more rustik than some of the other hostels. This whole hostel jumping experience has been like one big camping trip - you never really feel clean, there are bugs in your room, the food is sparse, you are bunked up with lots of people - you get the idea. At 9am this morning I set out to do a 3 hour hike through the park, which was spectacular. The scenery is like paradise - white beaches, blue/green water, lush green jungles - and the best part is (as I previously mentioned) no one lives in New Zealand so it pretty much felt like our own private island. When we got to Anchorage bay we hopped on a catamaran and sailed around the island for another 4 hours. Even though I got a ridiculous sunburn on my stomach (which is still white and pasty from CT temperatures) it was overall an specatuclar day.

Travelling is a Fashion Show?

2010-01-23T02:59:00.000-08:00

Granted I didn't do as much planning or reading prior to travelling as I could have, but I did do some. The travel books I read talked about small backpacks that hold just what you need: wickable shirts that can be worn several times and washed in the sink, convertible pants that zip off into shorts, resuable underwear with a tagline of "17 countires, 1 thong", sandals with criss-crossing cloth straps that look hideous but are practical, and I even decided to go "braless" after reading bras were not necessary. For a girl who has been told she NEVER wears the same outfit twice, coming to grips with the fact that I have to sacrifice my fashion for this trip was bearable, with the idea that everyone else would be unfashionable too. Well, I have been shocked to learn that this is not the case. 95% of the girls I have met so far (and they are from everywhere - US, Germany, Holland, Canada, etc.) have huge backpacks , filled with at least one pair of jeans, leggings, nice underwire bras, several bathing suits, necklaces, bracelets, cute shirts and jackets, hairdryers and one girl even had a small iron! Needless to say I have already gone out and bought a pair of flip flops because my "practical shoes" are hideous, and plan on buying a few more pairs of pants and shirts. 3 days in and I have already had to do laundry, which certainly makes me realize that only 3 pairs of underwear was never a good idea.

After I left Auckland two days ago our bus travelled to a small surf town called Hahei on the northeast coast of NZ. We arrived there in the early afternoon and I spent the next 3 hours Sea Kayaking along the Coromandel Penninsula. The instructor told me to pick a strong man to paddle with (as the kayaks were two seaters), but I was stuck with Timmy. He wasn't too strong, but he did let me sit in the back and steer. We paddled for about an hour, and then parked the kayaks at Cathedral Cove, got out took pictures. I swam out in the ocean and jumped off a large rock (and managed to scrape up my legs), and our instructors gave us some flat whites (coffee with milk) and biscuits (cookies) back on the beach. If you google Cathedral Cove you will get a glimpse into the beauty of these beaches - true paradise!! After kayaking we took a quick drive over to Hot Beach, which is a exactly as it sounds. Under the sand in particular spots there is volcanic activity which, if you dig just a litte, you get boiling hot water pools. Unfortunately I remain confused when trying to figure out celius and farrenheight degrees (so I won't even try to guess the exact degree), but this water is hot!!! That night we all went back to the dorm and ate a traditional New Zealand BBQ - sausage, lamb, pumpkin, (yes pumpkin is used for more than halloween carving here in NZ), white sweet potatoes, and ice cream!

I made a point on my first travel day to try and not fall asleep on the bus because I wanted to see the countryside. Besides a few slips today I have been pretty attentive to looking at my surroundings. The landscapes so far on the North Island have been California meets England, with a twist of the Amazon Jungle - large open fields with trees and hedges marking off the borders to different farms, and then a few minutes later huge baren hills roll out of the ground covered with dry brush and palm trees, and then the zig zag mountain roads take you through what appears to be an amazon jungle surrounded by a spectacular ocean view. In this case, even though the bus is cramped, hot and bumpy, it certainly is "about the journey, not the destination."

Yesterday we arrived in the mid afternoon at Raglan, a true surfer town as it boasts the longest left break in the world. I am not entirely sure what that is, but I think its just a really long wave. We checked into a really neat surfer hostel where there aren't even locks on the doors; "no worries!" I went down to the beach although the weather wasn't fantastic and took a long walk. Later that night I went back to the hostel where we had to make our own dinner (that seems to be the best way backpackers save money.) We left Raglan early this morning (8am departure) and headed to the Waitomo Caves. I decided to book the "Haggas Honking Holes" tour which was an action adventure tour, where I was told I would get wet! Even after I put on the full wet suit and wellington boots, I still didn't expect the type of adventure I got. The only thing we weren't allowed to do is pee in the wetsuit (which of course I asked.) After you learn a little about ropes and repelling you walk down a field and single file enter a creepy looking hole in the ground. I spent most of my day wondering what crazy person decided to enter these caves in the first place, but I guess in the 60's this became a sport and now most of the thousands of caves are actually mapped out, and some people treat is as an afternoon "hike." The caves were dark, wet, slippery, and when I looked up there were huge black spiders above my head. We repelled down dark caverns, into waterfalls and large pools. Most of the spaces we had to climb through were ridiculously tiny, we even had to do the army crawl a couple of times. I kept my flirty antics with the instructor high, and even the darkest crevasses remained light and fun. Three hours later we popped back out of the earth, and after emptying the water out of my boots and taking a hot shower we headed back to pick up the rest of the crew. Needless to say, it was an amazing (but WET) experience.

We headed from there to where I am now - a small town called Marae. We are staying at a Maori meeting house, which houses the native Maori tribe of New Zealand. We got to eat their traditional meal, and watch a traditional Maoiri performance, and then had to perform ourselves. It was interesting. The best part is watching these young tribe members go from grass skirts and long wooden spears to leaving the performance in their beaten up hondas wearing billabong shorts and american baseball caps. Now we are all in one big room with about 40 mattreses on the floor while I steal native Maori internet. Definitely makes for rough sleeping conditions. Thank God for ear plugs and face masks.

Tomorrow I am going white water rafting in Rotorua. I'll check in when I can!! In the meantime, I gotta buy some more clothes to keep up with the "backpacker fashion trends!"

Patience is a virture (I'm working on!)

2010-01-20T00:45:00.000-08:00

I've realized in just the short 24 hours I've been travelling that this trip is going to teach me patience whether I like it or not. Buses, figuring out transfers, waiting in lines (and I swear I am cursed with being in the eternal slow lane), sleeping in crooked positions on planes, not knowing where you are or where you are going, having 7 other roomates to deal with -- all of these things, in my normal life, would irriate me. I'm doing my best to force my brain to reboot and switch from "normal mode" to "travel mode" as soon as possible or I may have to drop a couple thousand on a room at the nearest Ritz and a couple of hours at a day spa! I have a feeling, like any new situation, that this is going to only get better as I go along.
The flight from JFK to LA was really productive - I watched 2 movies, 3 episodes of Californication, ate about 7 bags of free pretzels and peanuts and slept for 0 hours. The flight from LA to Tahiti (Tim only told me on our way to the plane that we had a layover in Tahiti) started the irritation process - in the one hour layover we had to leave our terminal, catch a bus to the other terminal, then run through crowds of people who had the MOST luggage I have ever seen, and eventually sat and waited for our flight (which without any announcement took off 45 minutes later than scheduled.) I had already jumped the gun at this point on taking my first sleeping pill, and after boarding I was asleep before we even took off. The Tahitian airline, Air Tahiti, is a little "ghetto" - they only offer about 5 movies (real quality ones, like Practical Magic with Sandra Bullock and some movie starring Bruce Willis where he's trying to kill human looking robots) that played on a loop, so you'd have to hope you caught one of these classics at the beginning. About 10 hours later we landed in Tahiti and had to exit the plane so they could clean it, which was neat because now I can actually say I have been to Tahiti. It was hot.. that's all I know about Tahiti. 5 hours later we landed in New Zealand and I finally felt like this trip had begun.
We met this little old man on our plane name Warren, who was 90 years old and going to live with his son in NZ for his "last days." He liked Timmy and I enough, well at least me, to offer us to come up to his son's house on the Bay of Islands and sail with them for a day, which I thought was pretty nice. But I've always said "never go sailing with someone" because its the BEST way to kill them without anyone knowing, so we decided to stick to the beaten path instead. We arrived at our hostel around 2:00 local time and got settled into our room - 4 sets of bunk beds filled with two other Americans who are also blogging www.danandjon.com, two Canadians, one Swedish guy and a random asian guy no one has seen since we got here. Tim and I walked around New Zealand, a busy city that seems to me to be a complete mish mash of architecture, from brick to stone, to glass to concrete jungles with sprouting palm trees next to a Dunkin Donuts and Prada stores. We decided not to stay here long, and booked a 21 day bus excursion through both islands starting at 7:50am tomorrow morning. It's with a company called Stray, which focuses on getting New Zealand visitors "off the beaten path" and does a lot of hiking and nature related excursions (which of course, I am excited about.) We ate at a Medterranian restaurant we found in Tim's guide book, which was delicious and cheap because we just didn't think eating at Subway or the 24 Wendy's would really be imersing ourself in the New Zealand culture.
Although they have free fruity punch and a "battle of the sexes"at the Globe bar downstairs, I think it's time for me to hit the hay (I mean, it is 3:20am CT time!) I'm sure I'll hear all about the crazy bar happenings from one of my seven roomates at 2:00 this morning. And don't worry, I'm trying to work on my patience for Timmy's sake.

And They're off!

2010-01-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

Guest post from Caitlin's sister.

I dropped them off at JFK -- and as of 615 tonight they are in the air on the way to LA.

Best of luck to you Caitlin -- we miss you already!!

Creature Comforts

2010-01-18T06:22:00.000-08:00

January 18th - Martin Luther King Day, but not to be overshadowed by my D-Day!! Flight leaves tonight from JFK at 6:00, and I get to New Zealand Wednesday at 1:30pm. A combined 20 hours of flying and an 18 hour time difference makes for a long 2 days. My travel buddy Tim arrived yesterday afternoon.
I, of course, woke up at 4am this morning and was awake for a couple of hours. I had a nightmare that I had been sitting around chatting it up with my family and forgot about my flight, then had to do the mad dash through the airport to find that I had already missed the plane anyway. Woke up a little angry at my brain - what are you doing to me!? As I lay there listening to my “running river” noise machine and thinking about the episode of Desperate Housewives I had watched hours earlier from my warm comfy bed, I began to realize that I am going to have to live without a lot of “creature comforts” over the next year. I have planned for this trip, anticipated this trip, gotten totally excited for this trip, but for some reason, never really thought about some of the things I would have to give up. So as I embark on my first day of travel, I’ve decided to make a list of those things I will miss, those things I am not looking forward to, and those things that I am most excited about.

The things I will miss the most:
* Morning iced coffees from Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks - It a headache preventing ritual.
* Driving my car - Although I sometimes drive like a crazy “Goos girl” (known for their high rates of speed, lane changing without a signal, and an overwhelming sense of entitlement), I will still miss the fun of it!
* Hugs from family and friends - I have the best people in my life.
* Free samples at Stew Leonard's - It makes for a free lunch on Saturdays and Sundays!
* My job - yes I know I say in my heading that life isn’t all about working 9 to 5, but I worked 8 to 6. Haha. Either way, I had a great job which I miss already!
* The birth of my niece or nephew (my sister is due in July, again!)
* Lots of hair product - not sure what I will do with my fro while I am away. Just like a beautiful garden it needs daily watering or in this case daily gelling, which I am not sure it is going to get. Maybe I’ll cut it all off?
* Home cooked meals - My sister made me my favorite dish last night (chicken pot pie) as my “last supper”, and it doesn’t get much better than that!!

The things I am NOT looking forward to:
* Listening to Timmy snore and speak to people in his sleep (which I just learned about last night)
* Wearing shower shoes - I haven’t done this since college!
* Possibly being the hairy girl - I am just not sure how often I’m going to get to shave!
* Very large bugs - My friend Andrea, usually at lunch, likes to tell me about all the large bugs she sees on the discovery channel, which inhabit the places I am traveling to. Did I mention I hate spiders?
* 3 pairs of underwear - No explanation needed
* Knowing who has slept in my bed before me - I bought a “sleep sheet” or as my mother likes to call it a “bed condom”, but I will still wonder where my bed has been!
* Pooping into holes in the ground - Well, I had to include it! Not only does it sound really gross, but it certainly begs the questions of how good my aim is, and how long my quads can hold me in a squat position!!
* Possibly getting sick in a foreign country - getting sick in the USA is tough enough, but at least I have my mom there to take care of me!

The things I am most looking forward to:
* New Zealand men - I hear they are like the Bounty Paper Towel Lumberjack Man who I love (hairy, rustic, chop wood, wear flannel)
* Knowing exactly what to wear everyday. With only 1 pair of pants and 2 shirts this should be a given. - I haven’t had this luxury since I lived in England when I was 12 and had to wear a uniform everyday to school!
* Bungee jumping, skydiving, white water rafting, repelling into caves - All the crazy action adventure sports!
* Beaches, beaches, and more beaches - Scuba diving in Thailand, the barrier reef and Fiji.
* Seeing and experiencing different cultures
* Food sampling - Yes I plan on eating bugs!! Or whatever the locals are serving up!
* Freedom from society’s constraints - Yes I am 27. No I am not married. Yes I just quit my job in this economy! Yes I am traveling around the world. AND yes I will be just fine!!

Well I am off to New Zealand. I’ll write when I get there!