1 Hour at a Time

Dreaming

2009-11-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

It was only a few months back that I would get this recurring feeling every once in a while. It'd often be while I was on a bus, or in a taxi or tuk-tuk. My mind would be wandering, thinking of any number of things, and as my eyes blinked closed for a fraction of a second, and then opened back up, I would get the feeling that I had just woken up, and immediately wondered how much of what I previously experienced was really just a dream. Was it just the last few thoughts, or has my whole trip been a dream? I was always very quickly able to realize that it wasn't a dream, and I really have been traveling the last 6 months all over Asia. But with my dreams feeling so realistic every night, I didn't think it impossible for me to suddenly wake up one day to realize this had all been one of my vivid and complex dreams - one I would remember only in the instant I woke up, with its memories fading as the day went on, ending as the vague memory of "that dream I had where I traveled all over the world." Well, so far, while it is a dream, it's also a reality. And one that won't turn into a vague memory anytime soon...

Back in Bangkok

2009-11-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

Four nights in Bangkok were fortunately enough to mentally prepare myself for my triumphant return to India. I've been waiting for this day for a long time, but it's going to be a readjustment nonetheless after being in SE Asia for 3 months.

With my friend Liat who I originally met in India, and reunited with here in Bangkok, we spent our days here seeing parts of the city we hadn't seen previously. We walked around the city and saw the Golden Mount and temples. We checked out the party seen at the RCA the night before Halloween, and spent Halloween night with some friends on Silom Soi 4, a nice change of pace from the largely foreign and un-costumed crowds on the Khao San Road. We saw a movie in the VIP section of the MBK, which was quite swanky, and walked to the pier last night to see the festivities for the Loy Krathong Festival.

And now I'm only a few hours away from my flight back to India. I'm a little nervous, as I'm landing in Kulkata, a city I've never been to. But it's exactly these kinds of experiences that make me appreciate traveling alone and taking on these new adventures, with nobody else to rely on (not even a guidebook).

Cambodia's Kids

2009-11-01T06:06:00.000-08:00

With more than 6 months of this trip behind me, I'm still eternally grateful that I'm able to find something new and amazing every single day of my travels. But not until my time in Cambodia was I truly shaken to the core with emotions that I hadn't the slightest sense I would get to experience, which came in the truly rewarding feelings I felt while volunteering and doing some good in a place that truly needed it. In Siem Reap, with a few friends I met, we took a trip one day to an English school the guys had heard about. I will keep the description as short as I can, as we are in the process of building a proper website for this cause as soon as we arrive at home and have the time and resources to do so. And I am not writing this to try to gather donations from any readers. I will be doing that when I get home and the website is built so I can do it more effectively.

The founder of the School For Children of Cambodia (SCC) is Mr. Ross. Since the early 90's, he has been building schools from the ground up and educating (with the help of volunteers) local children whose families cannot afford to send them to public school. When the children reach the sufficient level of education to pass their exams, and enough donations are collected to build the appropriate school environment, Mr. Ross hands the school over to the government to be run as a free public school for the children. It is an amazing and self-less cause, and I was immediately awe-struck when I saw how much good this man was doing for his country, asking for nothing in return. Along with the half-dozen orphans he cares for, local school kids arrive at his house in the late afternoon everyday to receive supplemental English lessons. This is where I spent everyday since my first there, alternating between playing with the kids, teaching their English classes (which was made easier because the kids were all so eager to learn), and building desks and chairs for them. Unfortunately, there's no Ikea in Cambodia, so it was a matter of using raw materials and rudimentary, dull, and rusted tools. But the jobs got done, and with a very kind and generous donation from my family we were able to build more desks and purchase more supplies for the classrooms.

In a country that is constantly ranked as one of the most corrupt in the world, it is rare to find people and causes that can be said without a doubt are trying to change things for the better, without putting anything in their own pockets. Even the 'high-and-mighty' NGOs are not without dirty hands. But this cause is one of those diamonds in the rough, and I believe that with work like this, Cambodia will eventually change and reach its true potential. It may take up to two generations for this dream to be realized, but I am hopeful, and determined to be a part of that positive change.

Alright enough ranting about 'the cause' and get to what this blog is really about; my adventures and experiences around the world. My two weeks in Siem Reap were spent at, and bicycling between, the very quintessential backpacker guesthouse (The Garden Village), Mr. Ross' English School, and Pub Street. I met countless other travelers, some just passing through, and many who were also volunteering their time for various organizations in and around Siem Reap. I had low expectations for Cambodia, thinking that I wouldn't spend more than a few days there to see the major tourist attractions. At the end of two weeks, I was very sad to leave, but knew that with the limited time I had left I needed to move on. But my work is not finished, and I have been hatching plans on a daily basis to make as big of an impact as I can utilizing my most valuable skills (teaching English not being one of them).

I think the combination of traveling alone, and having low expectations for both Vietnam and Cambodia, ensured that I would see these countries in a different light than most of my friends previously had, and developed what I expect to be a life-long connection, as well as memories that will be reshaped and refined as I visit these countries again in the future.

Angkor What?

2009-10-21T05:08:00.000-07:00

Waking up at 4:30 this morning, a few friends and I arrived at Angkor Wat, the largest temple in the world, at 5:30, a few minutes before sunrise. Unfortunately, the skies were partly overcast, and we didn't get to see the spectacular sunrise we were hoping to see. But being at this ancient, magnificent temple at dusk had a very special feel to it, and we were all happy we made it out early. The enormous Angkor Temple complex spans many square kilometers, and archaeologists and history buffs could spend days on end exploring all of the sites. But we were content with seeing the major temples, and were able despite our lack of a proper nights sleep to see them all by 2 PM.

The various temples have been converted from Buddhist to Hindu and back over the last 9 or so centuries, but one constant remaining is all of the phallic symbolism found throughout all of the temples. And yes, I'm 25 years old, but with the accent and choice of dirty words our tour guide (who went by the name Robin Hood) used, we still felt bashful and giggled. After exploring Angkor Wat, we continued to Bayon, which was probably my favorite of all of the temples. The 54 towers of the temples each contain 4 stone faces, with each direction's (N,S,E,W) smiling face symbolizing sympathy, compassion, kindness, and equality. We then briefly saw Baphuon, which unfortunately has been under construction for the last many decades, interrupted by the coming to power of the Khmer Rouge, and so much of it was off-limits. After seeing, and climbing up very steep steps (symbolizing the difficult ascent to heaven) to a few more temples, we finished our tour at Angkor Thom. Despite it's sheer beauty, with the roots of the enormous tree roots growing over and through the temple walls, I believe many tourists (mostly Asians for some reason) visit it simply because it is the filming location of 'Lara Croft: Tomb Raider.' But it is no surprise that they chose such a mystical temple to film the movie, and after being in Cambodia for only a few days, I wholeheartedly understand how she fell in love with the country, and her desire to adopt a child (or 10) from here. Mom, Dad, please don't be upset if I come home +1. Just kidding.

I've now seen most of the major attractions in Cambodia, but have no desire to leave just yet. I have no doubts I'll find something productive to fill my time, even if that just means reading through a few $3 photocopied books sold by children on the streets. What can I say? At that price, I can't afford not to read them!

Cambodia in Real-time

2009-10-18T22:49:00.000-07:00

3 days ago, on our first full day in Phnom Penh, we hired a tuk-tuk driver to take us to the important sights around the city. First we started at Tuol Sleng, also known as S-21, which was a school that was turned into a prison during the Khmer Rouge regime, where thousands of prisoners were executed and killed. Not being familiar with exactly what had occurred during this time period, I tried to understand what really had happened, ignoring the bias of the museum and self-serving testimonies of former guards of the prison that claimed to just be following orders.

From there, we continued to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields, where the majority of S-21 prisoners were executed and buried in mass graves. After the fall of the Khmer Rouge regime, these graves were discovered. A Buddhist stupa now stands near the entrance, commemorating those killed at the sites, and housing over 5,000 skulls found in the graves.

With a genocide that occurred less than 30 years ago, and affected the civilians all over the country, I'm looking forward to understanding the perspectives and feelings of those who lived during this time, and their children who grew up in the shadow of it.

Now I'm in Seam Reap, getting over my cold before visiting Angkor Wat. I may join my friend Hannah volunteering at an orphanage before I have to head back to Bangkok to catch my flight to India. But of course, nothing is being planned. Just taking it day-by-day...

I Left My Heart in Vietnam

2009-10-18T06:10:00.000-07:00

Hanoi

Contrary to what I had been told by the majority of my friends who had been before me, Vietnam is a beautiful country, very tourist-friendly, with warm and kind people that are happy to welcome all tourists (even Americans) into their country. I arrived in Hanoi, and spent over an hour wandering the streets in search of the Backpackers Hostel, as the hotels in Hanoi were too pricey for single rooms. Plus, I had heard there was a cool scene, with mostly younger people at the hostel, so I knew I'd meet like-minded travelers there. Although I had difficulty getting directions from the locals I asked, I understood that this was because they couldn't understand me. I thought the last people to help me would be proprietors of other hotels, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The two hotels I stepped into both handed me better maps, and explained to me how to reach the hostel. So far, I was digging Vietnam, and the unrelenting motorbike traffic and honking that would usually irritate me in any other country/city, I was able to appreciate it as just one more of the unique qualities of Hanoi. That night I went out with some people I met at the hostel to the Bia Hoi area, where glasses of draught beer cost roughly 12 cents. I planned to spend the next day in Hanoi, but I met three Israeli girls that night who were leaving on the Ha Long Bay tour the next morning, and when I woke up I decided it was a good opportunity for me to go with some people I know rather than risking it and ending up with a group I didn't jive with.

Ha Long Bay

The tour we chose was a 3-day, 2 night tour. Here's the recap:

After a 3 hour drive, we embarked on our boat from Ha Long City. Upon reaching the bay, I was struck with awe; this was by and far the most beautiful place I had ever seen in my entire life. We cruised around for a few hours, admiring the thousands of limestone karsts and isles surrounding us, before reaching the island that houses the enormous Phong Nha cave, which we explored for an hour or so. Then we kayaked for an hour, swam and jumped off the boat for another hour, and then had a nice sunset dinner on the boat. That night we slept on the boat, and in the morning we set off for Cat Ba Island, the largest of all the Islands in Ha Long Bay. We hiked up through Cat Ba National Park, in the jungle, to a viewpoint that was ultimately a little disappointing. But the hike was nice, so I didn't complain. We then had some beach time, which I almost passed up because I was very tired. I'm eternally grateful that I didn't, though, because the highlight of this tour was when a large group of 40 or so Hanoi residents arrived in tour buses to our beach, and a big beach soccer game was set up. When I asked to join, they all laughed in shock, chose to call me 'Beckham', and were happy to have me play with them. Fouls weren't called, rules weren't followed, and the score wasn't kept. But we all had a blast. That night we slept in a hotel on the island, and in the morning we made our way back to Hanoi, returning in the early afternoon.

Hanoi, pt. 2:

My plan was to stay in Hanoi only 1 more night, and then begin heading south. After bar hopping till late in the night, by chance I happened to meet a nice British fellow named David, who has been living in Vietnam for 4 years. I got his phone number, and decided that if I stuck around and we hung out, perhaps I'd get to see a side of Hanoi (and Vietnam) that most travelers don't. So I booked my bus for one day later, and David and I met up that evening for some drinks. As all the bars close in Hanoi at 12, there are only a handful that through bribes and such are allowed to stay open. So we headed to the Tet Bar, where within an hour we were surrounded by other travelers, of all nationalities and ages, sharing stories with no topics off limits. We left the bar when it was mostly cleared out, and only then realized that it was 5am. David obviously didn't make it to work the next morning, and for the next 3 nights we repeated this same pattern. Each night we went out to meet different Vietnamese and expat friends of David's, and then ended the night at the Tet Bar, where we became friends with the owner and the regulars there. But after 5 nights in Hanoi, I realized that my 30-day visa was counting down with each passing day, and there was still lots more I wanted to see and do in Central and South Vietnam, so after saying goodbye to my Hanoi friends, I took my first night bus in Vietnam to Hue.

Hue

I spent my first day in Hue with a motorbike guide, visiting the various historic/ancient monuments in and around the city. The next day, I took the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone) tour, which is the area in Central Vietnam where most of the bloodiest battles in the American/Vietnam War took place. There was not much to see on the battlefields, but the highlight of the tour was seeing and walking through the elaborate Vinh Moc tunnels, where the locals took shelter during the heavily-bombed period of the war. While I did enjoy Hue, there was not much else to see there, and so the next morning I left for Hoi An.

Hoi An

Many travelers had previously told me that they loved the charm of Hoi An more than any other Vietnamese city. When I arrived, and walked through the old town, I understood what they meant. Unfortunately, on my second day, I began hearing people talking about a typhoon approaching, which was validated when trucks with loudspeakers drove around telling the locals, in Vietnamese, to prepare for the typhoon. I bought some food to have in my room, but since the typhoon wasn't scheduled to hit until the morning, I went out that night to the bar. The biggest natural disaster I ever lived through was a blizzard, and the thought of experiencing a typhoon personally was a little exciting. I didn't even know exactly what a typhoon consisted of, but in only a few hours I was going to find out...

The next morning, I woke up to the rioutous sounds of pieces of tin roofs crashing on the roof outside my window. The power had gone out, and there was too much noise to stay asleep, so I put on my bathing suit, put my camera in its waterproof case, and headed outside. I walked around for quite some time, taking pictures, and then decided to cross the river, where the flooding was knee-deep. There were not many other locals around, but the ones that were all laughed at the crazy sight of me in my bathing suit trudging through the flooded street. I ended up walking to the resort where some Canadian girls I met the night before were staying, and they as well were shocked to see me stroll up in my bathing suit. I spent a few hours hanging out with them, taking advantage of the restaurant they had at the resort, and in the late afternoon I walked back to my hotel. In the evening we hung out in our lobby, playing cards, until the water started to slowly pour into the hotel. We assisted the owner in moving almost all of the furniture up to the 2nd floor, and by the time we went to bed, there were a few inches of water accumulated in the lobby. When I woke up in the morning, I looked out my window to see blue, cloudless skies. I got excited, thinking the worst was over, and got dressed and headed downstairs, only to discover when coming down the stairs that the first floor was flooded under 4 feet of water. So, I went back upstairs, changed into my bathing suit, grabbed my camera, and headed outside.

As locals and tourists were floating around in boats, trying to get to dry land, I was walking through the chest-high water, capturing every moment on my camera. I walked on the bridge over the river, which was now only a few feet over the raging waters below, a fraction of what it was the day before. I helped some of the locals who had to move their carts from the flooded market to dry land, where a makeshift market was set up within less than an hour. While I was surprised at first by how quickly they did this, it sank in that it was not done for profit purposes as much as it was done out of necessity. People still needed to buy food, and people still needed to sell food while it was still fresh. I walked across town, on the dry part away from the river, towards my travel agency, only to realize that they were also flooded, so I wouldn't be able to catch a bus out of there that day, or probably the next day either. Eventually, I returned to my hotel, packed my bags, and got a boat to bring me to dry land where I found a hotel far enough away from the river so I didn't need to worry about it getting flooded as well. Two days later, with my custom-made suits and shirts ready and shipped home, I was able to get on a bus to Nha Trang.

Nha Trang

I arrived in Nha Trang off the sleeper bus at 6 am, and at 7 am I was boarding a boat to go scuba diving. Visibility was not as good as I hoped it would be, but the diving was ok. When I finished diving and headed to the beach, I ran into a few friends I met in Hanoi, and we rented a small catamaran and went sailing for an hour. I spent the next two days reading and laying out on the beach, and going out to the various bars which make for a great nightlife in Nha Trang. I was still hoping to meet my friend David in Saigon the following weekend, which didn't leave me enough time to fully see Da Lat and Mui Ne, but I didn't want to miss them either. It was at this point that I decided that Vietnam was going to be at the top of my list of countries I wanted to revisit, with a longer visa and a bigger budget. But for now, I had to make do with what I had...

Da Lat

After I arrived in Da Lat, I had to wait in my room for a few hours for the rain to settle down, and then I headed out to see the city. Other than the cool climate, the first thing I noticed was that nobody bothered me. No motorbike drivers, no tuk-tuks, no people in the market. It was a nice change of pace from pretty much every country and city I've been to so far on the trip. My first destination was the Hang Nga Crazy House, a guesthouse/attraction which in my guidebook is described as Gaudi-meets-Alice-in-Wonderland. I won't try to describe it, so check out the link to see what it's about. I then spent the rest of the evening walking around the center of the city, and in the morning grabbed a bus to Mui Ne.

Mui Ne

The smallest of all the cities I had visited in Vietnam, Mui Ne consists of one long road that runs along the beach, with various hotels, resorts, restaurants, and bars on either side of the road. I spent the day on a motorbike tour, starting with a stroll down the Suoi Tien, the Fairy Stream, which is a shallow stream of running water with red and white soil building up the hills alongside it. It was a nice, peaceful walk up and down the stream, and it was one of the few times in Vietnam I wish I had somebody else with me to share the experience. From there, we continued to see the Fishing Village, which consisted of thousands of fishing boats out in the bay, along with countless tiny round rowboats that helped transport the fish to land. After a quick stop at the Red Canyon, we continued to the White Sand Dunes. In my mind, I expected to see dunes that stretched out as far as the eye could see, but this was not the reality. And after thousands of tourists had trudged over the dunes that day, the natural wind-swept ridges were completely covered over by footprints, also making the sight less impressive. The Red Sand Dunes, on the other hand were a nicer sight, and seeing the sunset from there was the perfect finishing touch on the tour. That night I hung out with some people at the guesthouse while we played guitar and sang, then went out for a few drinks and to shoot some pool. The next morning, I was off for Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City.

Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City

My first night in Saigon, I met up with some Vietnamese friends that I met in Nha Trang, and they took me to the Apocalypse Now bar, packed to the brim with locals and a few tourists. I spent the next two nights at the Chabad House, celebrating Sukkot and Simchat Torah, both holidays I can't recall celebrating in the last 10+ years. But I met many great people there, the alcohol flowed freely, and I had a great time. I also continued reuniting with more people in Saigon, so everyday I had another excuse to stay longer. I spent one day touring the Cu Chi tunnels, where the Viet Cong guerillas built an extensive network of tunnels to fight against the Americans and South Vietnamese forces, as well as the simple yet highly effect booby traps they used. Even crawling through a piece of the tunnel for 30 seconds was too much to handle, and made it all that much more astounding that the Viet Cong would spend up to 5 hours crawling 5km to reach the enemy bases to surprise attack them. After the tour, back in Saigon I headed to the War Remnants Museum, which more than just showing a biased story of the war, did show the unbiased effects of Agent Orange on the victims of Vietnam, both in the last generation and in the current one. None of the museum's patrons spoke as they looked at photos and read stories of these victims, and I'm sure each one of them could recall seeing such a victim out on the streets at one point begging for money. I walked out of the museum, still in shock for some time, not able to grasp the atrocities that the US had committed in the war. And while I know that there's always some sort of bias in any news you hear or read, those Agent Orange victims are victims of deplorable war crimes, and nobody can deny that.

With only 3 days left on my visa, it was time to leave Hanoi and make my way towards Cambodia, and I signed up for a 2 day tour of the Mekong Delta, finishing in Phnom Penh. The tour included visiting floating markets and villages, coconut and rice crispy factories, and then a boat ride to cross the border into Cambodia. And so began the next chapter of my journey...

Laos for Beginners

2009-10-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

Our first destination in Laos was Vang Vieng, home of the infamous tubing down the Nam Song river. We had heard many stories, both good and bad, about the tubing, and thought we were well-prepared to take on the adventure. So in order to not finish tubing after dark, we decided to start early. At 10am we arrived at Bar 1, only to realize that the fun of tubing is being with the crowds, that usually don't show up until noon or 1pm. So we spent the first 3 hours drinking at Bar 1, and ziplining and jumping off huge rope swings into the river. For some reason, I had decided that I was totally capable of doing a backflip off the swing, even though I've never successfully landed a backflip before. And I was wrong, but fortunately learned my lesson by only getting the wind knocked out of me.

When we did enter our tubes, we only stayed in them for about 30 seconds, as the Laosians at Bar 3 threw us ropes and pulled us into their bar, where we spent another hour or so drinking and ziplining. This continued for the next few hours, as we spent minimal time tubing, and most of our time in the various bars. One of the bars was known as the mudpit bar, and when Ashley started throwing mud at me, I took the opportunity to exact some revenge on her, for my broken nose. We both ended up covered in mud, but unlike Ashley, I didn't end up with any in my mouth. At the last bar, in addition to the ziplines and rope swings, there was also a huge slide, which according to urban legends, one or two girls died on it a few months ago. Thus, it is known as the Death Slide, and gets lots of customers. It's hard to imagine how these girls died, but I guess with the quantities of alcohol consumed on the river, it's not too surprising. This is also the last bar, and from there we had about 1.5 hours of actual tubing down the river to reach the end of the course. So I guess saying that we went tubing that day isn't a complete lie.

The next day, we chilled out at the blue lagoon. And the following day, I decided I wanted to spend the day at the tubing bars, though I decided I wasn't going to tube. After reaching the last bar, I was prepared to take a tuk-tuk back into town, but a guy I met that day decided he didn't feel like tubing, and gave me his tube, which I rode down the rest of the river with a group I also met that day. Most of this tubing was done after darkness fell, which wasn't the best idea, but since we were a fairly large group, it was ok.

After 2 days, I was all tubed out (kinda weak considering I met some people who had been "tubing" for 30, 80, and even 260 consecutive days), and we decided to head north to Luang Prabang. We spent one of our days at the Kuang Si waterfall, which to date on this trip is the biggest and most awe-inspiring of all the waterfalls I've seen. A few days later, we took a bus north to Nong Khiaw, but immediately boarded a boat to Mong Noi. From there, we did a day trek through the jungle, stopping to admire some caves. We continued north, across endless rice fields, until we reached the tiny village of Ba Na. This was the first taste of true rural life in Laos that we saw, and it was nice change of the pace from the touristy cities we were in before. The children were eager to have us take their pictures, and then see themselves on our cameras.

Unfortunately, that morning Benami started feeling sick, and by night he was in really bad shape. When we got back to Luang Prabang the next day, at the hospital they concluded that he had Dengue Fever, or something similar. A few days of rest and medicine and he was as good as new.

While there was more of Laos I wanted to see, due to time and budget constraints, visiting the South of the country didn't make much sense, and I decided I was going to head east directly into Northern Vietnam. And because of some horror stories I read and heard about, I decided that crossing the border by land by myself would be a nightmare of an ordeal, and chose to fly both to save me the headache, and to also not start Vietnam off on the wrong foot, getting scammed and extorted at the border.

And with Ashley's flight from Saigon scheduled for two weeks later, I knew that I was going to split off from her and Benami and Vietnam since they'd be rushing through the country. And also, I was looking forward to the opportunity to travel on my own. Up until then, I hadn't spent more than a handful of nights on my own in the entire 5 or so months of traveling, and decided it was about time to do so. Only time would tell if I'd enjoy it as much, though I had a feeling it would change my trip completely, and only for the better.

Thailand: The 2nd Half

2009-10-06T05:33:00.001-07:00

A few days after breaking my nose, we headed to Koh Tao, where we spent the majority of the time on the beach, laying around during the day and watching the fire spinners at the beach bar at night. Ashley, Jamie, and I returned to Koh Phangan for one night, going to the Half Moon Party in the jungle, and the next day we parted, as they continued to Bangkok and Cambodia, and I returned to Koh Tao to await my brother and cousins arrivals.

After being away from home for so long, there's a lot to say for seeing a familiar face, and particularly a familial face. It was great to be with my family, my blood again, and we spent 4 days in Koh Tao scuba diving every morning and relaxing on the beach the rest of the day. And of course, the nights were spent at the beach bar watching the fire spinners. We then headed to Koh Phangan, which was all beach, all parties, all the time. We returned to Bangkok, where we had one last night to spend together, as Itamar was flying home the next day, and we continued North to Chiang Mai after reuniting with Benami and Ashley.

Our first day in Chiang Mai we did the Flight of the Gibbons canopy tour, which after the 3rd or 4th zipline began getting a bit repetitive. Our second day, we took a tour that started with ATV riding in the jungle, followed by rafting down 5+ level rapids, which was quite a thrill. From there, we took a bus to Pai, and immediately rented motorcycles as that is the best way to see all of the surrounding villages. If I had to describe Pai in one word, that word would be 'green'. Lush fields and trees as far as the eye can see, and as far as our motorcycles took us on the smooth, winding roads. After two days of exploring all of the villages, waterfalls, and hot springs in the area, we left on a 2-day motorcycle journey. On our first day we rode straight through the morning into the early afternoon, stopping in the Karen Long Neck Village, and then continuing for as far as we could before the nightfall and rain made us stop at the nearest guesthouse. With owners that spoke no English, we resorted to using a children's English-Thai picture dictionary to order our dinner. But not reaching our planned destination left us with over 300km to cover the following day. Without taking any extraneous stops, we made it in time for Tamir to catch his flight to Bangkok, and for us to catch our bus into Laos, which I had been eager for for quite some time as all of my friends only had amazing things to say about it.

Full Moons and Facial Deformities

2009-10-02T03:23:00.000-07:00

Our arrival in Koh Phangan was 4 nights before the infamous Full Moon Party, and the impending mayhem could be felt as day-after-day more roustabouts flooded onto the island, particularly Haad Rin (Sunrise) Beach where the party is always held. While Benami and I were eager to get some quality beach time, we also wanted to explore the island, and on our 2nd day we rented motorbikes and rode for hours on the smoothly paved roads, alternating between fresh fruit shakes and cold beers at the various beaches we visited. We had a minor incident reaching the remote Bottle Beach, and after being extorted for the repair costs, we gave up on renting motorbikes on the islands again.

Full Moon, Full Power

The night of the full moon arrived, as did my NY friends Ashley and Jamie (after 4 flights spanning 24 hours of travel time). We started the night with drinks at our bungalow, with about 10 people in attendance. Ashley and Jamie instantly made friends with my posse, and we had great laughs, all while mentally preparing ourselves for the night ahead. We came up with a plan that would hopefully keep us from all losing each other, and for the first 30 minutes or so, it actually worked. But shortly after, people started wandering off, and the crew disbanded. With thousands of people drinking and dancing all along the beach, there was very little chance we'd see each other again before morning. One of my friends, who will remain nameless, was not able to control his alcohol intake, and i spent the majority of the night babysitting him as he took a nap on the beach, with the party in full effect going on around him. While basically carrying him to get some food, we came upon another random partier who couldn't control himself. He was passed out on the sand, in the middle of the party, getting trampled on by people walking past and dancing around/on him. He didn't budge once. We watched 2 girls, on separate occasions, approach him to check his pulse just to make sure he was alive. Yaniv and I decided to drag him to one of the designated sleep areas, which was fenced off, so no more people would step on him, and to prevent pickpockets as well. We determined the best way to grab and carry him, and as we lifted up his arms, he instantly sat up. For all of 5 seconds he sat there, then stood up by himself, shook off some of the sand, and began dancing like all the other lunatics at the party. I would say that could be the single defining moment of what the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan is like, and when I went home around 7am, I was happy to have this experience behind me. Little did I know though, that there was much, much more excitement waiting just around the corner.

The day after a party like the Full Moon Party is usually reserved for recuperation. But since Ashley and Jamie were only able to make it to 4am that night (still a very impressive feat after all their traveling), we were determined to make the next night just as fun. And that's what it was. With the overwhelming majority of party-goers off the island, the beach party was much more relaxed. We were able to wander off and reunite many times. And the raised platforms were untouched, so of course we were the first ones to claim one as our own, and spent the entire night dancing above the crowds. Ashley, Roey, and I all had our attempts at the jump rope of fire. On my last attempt, I fell into the sand face first, and so I decided it was time to go for a swim.

I was joined shortly afterwards by Jamie, Ashley, and Roey. We spent the first 10 minutes tackling each other and wrestling around in the ocean. I then decided I was tired of fighting, and called for a truce. We decided to do a 4-way handshake truce, and just as our hands released, it was the moment of no return. Ashley, the little weasel that she is, was eager to break the truce, and instantly lunged at me to tackle me into the water. Roey, at the same time, grabbed mine and Ashley's hands, and pulled us towards each other. Ashley's forehead collided directly with my nose, and we both went flying backwards into the water. (Ironically, this is all while the song "I've Gotta Feeling (that tonight's gonna be a good night)" was playing at the bar). It was a very forceful hit, and I knew that if I was hurting that bad, Ashley must've been in pain too, so I instantly ran to check on her. She was laughing uncontrollably, in no pain at all, while I quickly saw that blood was pouring out of my nose. Roey played doctor, telling me it was only a small scratch on the inside of the nose. Being that I have never broken a bone, and assumed that it would hurt more than the slight pain I was feeling, I believed him. But when we ran into some friends a little while later, and I saw the look of shock on their face (and the crookedness of my nose in a cellphone camera picture), I decided to go to the clinic. The doctor assured me my nose was broken, and wanted me to wait two days for the swelling to go down, and then go to Koh Samui to see a specialist. As I was about to give in to that diagnosis, a drunken Australian lad, with his left foot swollen to twice it's normal size, stumbled in and put in his two cents. "Aww mate, I've broken my nose 3 times, and each time coach just puts it back into place like this," as he showed me his fingers pushing the top and bottom of his nose from opposite directions back towards center. I looked at the doctor, who didn't have much to say, and hesitantly proceeded to push my nose back into place. It was at this point that Ashley began to cry, though the pain was far from what I'd call excruciating. I felt two clicks in my nose bone, and then examined myself in one of the nurses little pocket makeup mirrors. I suspected there was still a bit of a bend, so I took matters into my own hands, and pushed the bone one click further towards center. Because of the swelling, I couldn't be sure that it was properly set, but it was the best I could do.

4 months I traveled around Asia, going on 2-week treks climbing to 5,500 meters, enduring motorcycle journeys on extremely dangerous roads, and ended up with not even minor scratches on myself. But one night after my friend Ashley arrives from the US, I ended up with a broken nose. Ironically, that night, the 7th of August, 2009, was one of the most fun nights I had on my entire trip, and the broken nose incident just made it that much more memorable (and also a little more painful). And with Ashley scheduled to continue traveling with me for the next 6 weeks or so, she and I both knew that I wasn't going to let her live it down anytime soon.

The Shock of Bangkok

2009-10-02T03:03:00.000-07:00

Arriving in Bangkok at 6am, Benami and I were in awe from the moment we stepped out of the airport and took a cab into the city until we went to sleep that night. We were out of the 3rd world country that is India, and the skyscrapers, shopping malls, proper roads and highways, and 7/11s were familiar and comforting to be around. My first meal in Thailand was a Whopper at Burger King, the first time I had eaten beef since I left Israel in April. I know some people may hate on fast food, but I was in heaven.

We spent our first day being mallrats, starting in the MBK mall, which has everything you could possibly need, at prices you can't afford to pass up. Every floor of the mall is divided based on what they sell. 1 floor for clothes, 1 for bags, 1 for souvenirs, etc. And every shop, side-by-side, is selling the same items as their neighboring shops. The entire 4th floor is packed with hundred of small vendors, back-to-back, all selling the same exact stuff, item-for-item. Ipods & cellphones (and their knockoff counterparts), and all kinds of other electronic gizmos and gadgets. And with the combination of wear and tear on the clothes I had, and the undisclosed weight I had lost in India, I needed to buy some new threads (counterfeit Diesel jeans anybody?). The Siam mall, while physically located just across the street, is miles away from the MBK. It is the swankiest mall I've ever been to, with every designer store and gourmet restaurant you could think of, all at prices roughly around my 4-month India budget. Needless to say, I didn't buy much there.

In the evening, we went out on the infamous Khao San Road. The closest place I could compare it to would be Bourbon St. in New Orleans. Bar after bar with tables and chairs spilling out onto the sidewalks, beer tents, countless food vendors and stores, and hundreds of people walking up and down the street. I was back in my element, after 4 months in India where I could probably count on my fingers and toes how many beers I drank during that entire period. But Bangkok was just a taste, and I grew excited for what was to come on the islands.

Our last day in Bangkok, we took a tour that began in the floating market (interesting, but they essentially sell the same crap you see everywhere in Thailand), then visited the River Kwai bridge (historically interesting, visually unappealing), and finishing at the Tiger Temple where we got to pet half-sleeping tigers who are cared after by monks, for a nominal fee. The next morning we flew to Koh Samui, and from there took a ferry to Koh Phangan.

Farewell India (for now)

2009-09-22T22:19:00.000-07:00

With only about 12 days before I was planning to fly to Bangkok, I found myself pressed for time in India considering what I still wanted to do and see before I left. After taking only 1 day to rest after the motorcycle journey, we left Manali the next evening on a 22-hour minibus ride to Leh. Although I was in awe, staring at the breathtaking scenery, and our shadows falling on the desert sand beside us as we rode along, 22 hours is still way too long for a minibus ride, and I was already starting to dread the thought of taking the same route back. But I had time to worry about that later. For the moment I had only about a weeks worth of time in Leh, so there was no time to waste.

Our first real activity in Leh was taking a jeep up to the Khardung La Pass, which claims to be the highest motorable road in the world at 5,359 meters, and then riding (decrepit) bicycles 40 km downhill. Not considering the extreme change of altitude, I arrived in shorts, only to be greeted by hail and snow as the jeep climbed the mountain. After riding down for a half hour or so, back into normal temperatures, I decided that I wanted this experience documented on video. Holding my Flip video camera in 1 hand, I continued riding, filming the road ahead, and the beautiful views of the epic-sized Himalayan mountain range spanning across the entire horizon. This left only one hand steering, and controlling the front brake. As my friends were stopped up ahead, I decided to attempt a skidding stop. Unfortunately, it was on a patch of sand, with only the front brake, and I flipped over the handlebars. As my friends watched astonished, I lay on the ground laughing hysterically, and immediately yelled "I got it on video!" (To my dismay, the video didn't capture the fall as my camera shut off earlier in the ride while I rode over some bumps) After washing off my cuts and scrapes, and covering my half-broken fingernail, we continued the fun looping journey back down to Leh, with no further mishaps other than Amir flying off his bike when attempting to go off-road. He suffered no injuries though, and within another hour we were back in Leh, discussing what was next.

2 days later, I embarked on what was referred to as the "Baby trek" with some friends from the beginning of my trip that I ran into in Leh. Now don't let the name "Baby trek" mislead you, as it did to me. "Baby" refers to the number of days the trek should last, and not to its difficulty level, or lack thereof. Starting a trek at 3,500 meters does not give your body time to adjust to climbing at that altitude, as we did in Nepal starting at 700 meters. Additionally, we were dealing with cloudless skies, a scorching sun, and temperatures in the 90s. I was happy to conclude the trek after 3 days, and return to Leh. My last two days before flying to Delhi (I decided there was no way that I was going to do the 3-day return trip via bus(es)), we headed to Tso Moriri Lake, where an annual nomad festival was being held. The lake was stunning, reflecting the surrounding mountain views on its surface. My friends ran into the frigid waters for a dip, as I took pictures and videos. With our crew splitting off, after nearly a month of traveling together, including the bonding motorcycle trip, we celebrated with a bottle of whiskey, music, and laughs late into the night.

Returning to Delhi after over 3 months in India allowed me to see the city in a different light, and I found new things to appreciate in this big city, particularly outside of the Main Bazaar. The daytime heat and humidity was a bit restricting, and for the first time on my travels it was absolutely essential to get a room with AC. In Delhi I reunited with a few friends and really enjoyed my time there. But for weeks I already had Thailand constantly on my mind (beaches, hammocks, fruity drinks with pink umbrellas, etc.), and I knew I'd be meeting up with friends from India there, friends from home, and my cousin and brother, which was more than enough cause for excitement.

And more than that, I was just ready for the newest chapter of my journey...

As it was in the beginning,

2009-09-21T00:38:00.000-07:00

so shall it be in the end. After 9 days of our trip, we had learned to expect the unexpected, and anticipated our last two days to be even more difficult than what was indicated on the map, though I think we were all secretly hoping we were just exaggerating the level of difficulty. With over 200km of rough-and-tumble roads to cover in 2 days, including 2 mountain passes, and no more gas stations before our final destination, we set off from Kibber Village at 7am, hoping to reach Chandra Tal Lake by late afternoon. To get on the road quickly, we skipped breakfast at the village, which also meant starting our riding in the morning fog, and cold. Within 20 minutes we stopped to add extra layers of clothing, as even traveling at 30 km/h made it substantially colder while riding. Throughout the day, rarely were we able to exceed these speeds, as we did not encounter any paved roads. In fact, the road only changed between one of fist and skull-sized rocks to streams of flowing water where we had to weigh the risk of lifting our feet to keep them dry but also having less control and balance to navigate over the unseen, uneven ground below the water.

In the afternoon, Lior's bike entered a ditch and fell over, fortunately only at 5 km/h. We fixed his broken brake handle within a few minutes, but both Lior and Hadassah were a bit shaken up, and so we decided to start riding slower and more cautiously. And after climbing up to the next mountain pass, Hadassah switched over to ride on the back of my bike. We reached Tal around 3pm, where there were 2 dhabas, some tents, and an above-ground hatch of sorts, which we decided would be our resting place for the night. With a few hours before sunset, Benami, Amir and myself decided we would make the 30km climb to the lake and return. This was a site we didn't want to miss. After 10 minutes of riding up the very difficult path, we reached what could only be described as a pool, with water filling it up one one side and falling over the edge of a cliff on the other. The water was flowing rapidly, towards the cliff. The pool was long, some parts where the depth was easily visible, some parts being unknown. Amir threw some rocks into the deep end, hoping to determine the depth somehow. They tried to figure out an ideal path to cross, unwilling to admit that this road was unpassable for motorcycles. I rested my bike on its kickstand, leaning it up on a small rock. As I approached the stream for a closer inspection, one of the bikers also stuck there yelled out. I turned, and instantly knew the sight I was about to see. My bike had fallen over on its side, on the edge of the 15 foot cliff, and was slowly sliding down. I can't imagine there ever being a time I ran faster in my life. While running, I screamed for help to pull it up, as I got on the cliff-side of the bike to keep it from falling to its doom. I can not think of words other than 'luckily' and 'fortunately,' but I do not think they properly emphasize the gratefulness I felt for that bike not being lost forever, another 120 km from our destination. Either way, the bike was saved. And after waiting for my hands to stop shaking, we determined that the stream was unpassable, and returned down to Tal.

We spent the next 5 hours in the dhaba (a very simple hut that serves very simple food), trying to stay warm, waiting for an appropriate time to go to bed. And our beds that night were just extra blankets on the floor. I froze that night, and got little more than a few winks of sleep.

We woke up early the next morning, ready to take on our last day, and the dreaded Rohtang La mountain pass. Within 30 minutes of increasingly worsening uphill road conditions, my brake handle snapped in half simply from me gripping it tightly. I was left with only the back brake, foot-operated, which is cewrtainly not ideal for uneven, uphill roads. And for this reason, I needed to ride solo, and so Hadassah got off of my bike. Keren was still with Benami, and Amir's bike was still on the verge of collapsing at any moment, so Hadassah got back on the bike with Lior. We continued riding, and continued getting treated to new surprises. Now, instead of streams of water flowing across the road, they flowed down the road, over and in between the rocks. It wasn't long before my shoes were soaked. Next, we got our first taste of mud. They were long, flat paths of mud, very runny from the past two days of rain. We rode slowly and carefully though, and nobody slipped and fell.

We stopped around noon, and replaced the brake handle on my bike. We still had over an hour to ride before reaching the top of the pass, 50km from Manali. We began our climb, and were making good time when we were 6km from the top. At this point, Amir's bike gave up. We replaced and re-replaced the spark plug, detached and re-attached every wire, filled more gas, attempted to start it in 2nd gear while rolling downhill. Nothing worked. The bike was done. After hailing down a few cars which didn't help, we finally got a big Tata truck to stop after over an hour. It took 7 men to lift that bike 5 feet up into the back of the truck. Like our first day, we waved goodbye to Amir and Hadassah, and hoped to see them in the evening. As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end.

It was now around 3pm, and we had a lot of ground to cover. Little did we know just what that ground included. Quickly, Benami and Keren, Lior, and I zoomed up the mountain. We passed trucks on the curvy roads, and made it to the top of the pass in good time. The view from the top was extraordinary, but unfortunately we didn't have time to stop and appreciate it fully. The first bit of the windy road down lifted our fears, as the roads were decent rocky roads, and the little traffic that there was we were able to maneuver around with ease. But before long, we hit the traffic jam. And I do mean THE traffic jam. With our bikes, we were able to enter some of the muddy paths between the cars and on the sides of the road. But the mud was thick and deep, and traversing through it was certainly putting more strain on our already-tired bikes. Regardless, we took every opportunity we could to bypass stopped cars. At a certain point, we saw that the vehicles heading uphill were stopped with their engines turned off, and the traffic officers were attempting to ease the congestion by getting all the cars down the mountain first. So all of the cars going uphill were shut off, as were the ones going downhill, only being turned on intermittently to move another 5 meters forward and then being shut off again. My bike was exhausted after less than 30 minutes of this riding, and kept shutting down. A nice Indian fellow noticed my troubles and told me he had a friend in the next town down the hill who could maybe help me, because he's an engineer. Not sure what help he would've given, but it was nice of him to offer. I knew I just needed to let the bike cool down, so I found a nice area to park the bike, and decided to give it 10 minutes of rest. The other guys were ahead of me, and I figured I would meet them at the first rest area. When I arrived there 30 minutes later, a ride where I couldn't afford to stop as I knew my bike would shut down again, they were taking a break and letting their bikes cool down.

We only stopped long enough for our bikes to cool, and actually the one benefit of the rain that we entered in that altitude was that it helped cool our bikes down faster. We had over 30 km to go, and were hoping we had passed the worst of it. We hadn't. Riding in the rain, we encountered the second wave of the traffic jam. Only big Tata trucks, all stopped, with no intentions of moving anytime soon. A few times one of us would have to get off the bike for a recon mission, checking to see if there was a clear and driveable path around or in between the trucks. Oftentimes it wasn't possible. In those situations, the very kind truck drivers got back into their trucks and moved them a few feet back, clearing the path for us. Regardless, the paths were ankle-high mud tracks that we had to ride with our feet hanging off the side, in case our bikes slipped and fell over. None of the bikes fell over, but we were all completely covered in mud halfway up our shins. In time, we cleared this area, and only had about 20km of downhill, winding, paved roads to cover before Manali. The first bit was done in a steady rain, but eventually that subsided, and we felt that we were close to home. We arrived in Manali around 7pm, and felt sweet, sweet relief of being back. I immediately went to return my bike, as I didn't want to pay for an extra day of the bike since I knew I wouldn't be using it anymore.

The walk back to my guesthouse, alone, was a strange one, as it was my first time in almost 2 weeks that I wasn't using the bike to get from place to place. I also was able to reflect on the overall motorcycle journey. Despite all of the challenges and breakdowns, the trip easily joined the short list of the highlights of my overall year-long trip, alongside the Annapurna trek in Nepal. I also developed a new love for riding motorcycles, which I'm sure will carry over into the rest of the trip, and will result in me getting my license as soon as I do return home. But my return home is a long time away, and before then there will be many more countries whose sites are best-seen from the seat of a motorcycle. And that's exactly how I intend to see them...

I love the road beneath my wheels,

2009-07-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

the power at the tip of my fingertips, the humming of the engine between my legs, and the wind blowing in my face. But sometimes, the road is no more than boulders, rocks, mud, and flowing streams of water, the power of the Enfield gives me a stronger and less-safe push forward than I would like, the vibrations of the engine make my feet numb, and instead of wind blowing in my face, it's dust flying into my eyes, causing an eye infection, which is what I awoke to discover on the morning of Day 3.

As we awoke, for the first time with no alarms, we casually explored the village of Sangla, I found some antibiotics for my eye, and in the afternoon we enjoyed a leisurely 2-hour ride to Chitkul. Day 4 was also meant to be a relaxed day. In the morning, a girl we met the day before, who was riding with 2 guys, asked us if she could continue with us, as she was pressed for time. So we left 7 people, and within an hour Lior's bike started giving him problems. In the 1.5 hours we waited, Amir took the opportunity to weld another broken part of his bike. We were then able to ride 3 or 4 more hours with no further problems. And then, an hour before reaching our destination, Lior's accelerator cable ripped. Missing 1 small part, and having to ride up to the nearest mechanic to find a replacement and then back down to the bike, it took nearly 2 hours until the bike was fixed. We arrived at Kalpa at 6:30pm, riding the last half hour in a light rain. Once again, our day turned out to be much longer than we expected. And for our new rider, (girl) Lior, this was quite a change of pace from riding with the 2 experienced riders she was with before. Over an awful dinner, we decided we would spend an extra night in Kalpa. So on the 5th Day, we rested. This worked well for me, as my stomach problems had only worsened since we left Manali.

In the morning, we rode down to Reckong Peo to get our Inner-Line Permits, necessary for driving on our route on the sensitive Indo-China/Tibet border, and then I went to find a doctor. A doctor there wasn't, but a hospital there was. Visiting an Indian hospital was quite an experience, though it was no help for my stomach problems, nor for the leg pains I started feeling the night before. And this was not the kind of hospital where I'd be willing to get blood work done, so I decided to grin and bare it.

On the morning of Day 6, we awoke to see that the beautiful mountain view we had become accustomed to, had been covered by thick clouds of mist. We got ready to leave, but every time the skies cleared up, a new mist cloud rolled in moments later, bringing with it a light rain. By 9, we decided we couldn't wait anymore, as we had a long ride ahead, and we departed Kalpa. Driving at a pace rivaling that of a small child, with visibility no more than a few feet ahead, we descended to Reckong Peo. Within 20 minutes, on a steep 180 degree turn, Amir avoided a low-speed collision with a jeep, crashing his bike into the ground and breaking his headlight. A few minutes later, we continued on without any further incidents, and with only a few short breaks, we arrived in Nako in the late afternoon. We walked to the Nako lake, where Amir braved the cold water to take a dip, and then we hiked up to a viewing point that made it clear to me why so many friends of mine insisted that I get to Nako. At night, we sat together and examined our map, counting days and dates, and determined that we needed to get a hustle on. With the Dalai Lama's birthday approaching in 3 days in Tabo, and his stops planned in villages nearby, we knew that we'd have trouble finding places to sleep in the area. We didn't finalize plans, but prepared ourselves to possibly have to sleep in less-than-ideal conditions if we had to.

On Day 7, we rode through the morning without a hitch, arriving in Tabo for lunch. Lunch took longer than expected, and at 3 we left, with questionable amounts of gas in our tanks for the distances we planned to cover before the next gas station. Taking a detour into the Pin Valley, we arrived in Mud, bypassing Danker, in an impressive 3 hours. As we arrived, Amir felt there was a problem with his front tire, and after 10 minutes, it was visible that air was leaking. Since we still had an hour or so of sunlight left, and not wanting to be delayed in the morning, we decided to change the tire right way. This proved to be more difficult than we thought, and an hour later we were still working, with hardly any light out, and occasional rock blasts across the valley forcing us indoors. When the inner tire was removed, we inspected it only to discover that it wasn't even punctured. The valve was leaking air, and we were quickly able to remedy this. But we had already removed the tire and the inner tube (the bulk of the work), so it didn't really matter at this point. Our next fun discovery was that the new tire pump we had bought wasn't worth the $9 we spent on it, and couldn't fully inflate the tire. Leaving Benami and Amir to finish the job, I went to shower, only to discover on my return that they had lost 1 of the 4 nuts that holds the front tire onto the bike. It was futile to search through the gravel it fell into in the dark, so we decided we would try in the morning.

So on the morning of Day 8, after searching for over an hour, with the help of some local kids, Amir's bike was left with a half-inflated tire that was only three-quarters attached to the bike. In other words, it was unrideable, especially on the rocky road that leads out of the Pin Valley. Catching a ride to Kaza, 50km away, Amir and Lior took the half-inflated tire and one of the nuts, along with our 4 empty gas cans, hoping they would return with all missions completed so we could continue the following day. Benami, Keren, and myself decided to take a ride to Dhankar, which we were told was another must-see village in the Spiti Valley. 50km from Mud, including an 8km climb from the valley, we reached the beautiful village of Dhankar, where security forces were posted all along the way, as the Dalai Lama was scheduled to make a stop there for the afternoon. All along the uphill road, all of the neighboring villages had set up huge banners welcoming the Dalai Lama. We parked our bikes about 1km downhill from the village, and walked up, awaiting the Dalai Lama's arrival by the monastery in Dhankar. 30 minutes after waiting in the heat, the Dalai Lama's convoy arrived. 15 cars in total, with a very modest sedan that the Dalai Lama himself rode in. Of course, there was a very large commotion over his arrival. He entered the monastery, at which point we decided this was a good time to go, and we began our ride back to Mud. 2 hours later, we were back in Mud, making record time. My arms, and the back of my hands, were quite sunburned as I had not applied sunscreen on in the morning, and I knew I'd be paying for that oversight over the remaining days of our trip. But for the 4 hours of riding, I set up my music playlist to play, in order, Led Zeppelin I - IV, and Houses of the Holy, and enjoyed it tremendously. Maybe that's why I didn't notice my hands and arms turning bright red throughout the day. Oh well.

Day 9 was also a short day, as we only had a 50km ride to Kaza, where we refilled on gas (the last gas station before Manali), and then had a pleasant 1-hour ride to Kibber Village (which used to claim to be the highest village in the world), another must-see stop. On the way, we also took a quick detour to Key, where the Key Monastery is cozily nestled into the side of the mountain, making for quite a view. At Kibber Village, we ate lunch, and as the rest of the group went to walk around, I took a much-needed nap. That night, we sat around and discussed what was to come. According to our schedule, we had 2 more days planned for trip, but we were well aware that the last two days would be long, hard days that involved climbing up to very high mountain passes, and then back down. Fingers crossed, once again, we left Kibber Village early on the morning of Day 10, hoping we would (all) make it to Manali in 2 days, without any (more) major motorcycle problems...

Spiti & Kinnaur: A Motorcycle Diary

2009-07-16T02:37:00.000-07:00

Prologue to the Prologue
For the first time in my life, I made an attempt to keep a daily diary of what I was doing in my life. I would refer to this as a journal, but I feel that when taking a motorcycle trip, it's acceptable to call it a diary (a la Che Guevara). Due to some days being incredibly exhausting, I did not actually write everyday. And since I am not a professional writer, transcribing this now from my diary means some parts are written in the present tense, some in the past, and some in a tense I'm not sure of. So please, bear with me.

Prologue
There are 6 of us that embarked on this journey; 4 guys (Benami, Lior, Amir, and myself), each with his own bike, and 2 girls (Keren and Hadasa) who occasionally rotate which motorcycles they're on, often because the more exhausted bikes need less weight on them. We're riding Royal Enfield 500cc Custom motorcycles. The bikes, along with the gear and passengers, weight about 400 kg each. Of the 4 drivers, 3 of us, including myself, learned to ride a motorcycle only a few days before we left on our trip. And despite getting the hang of it very quickly, I was only comfortable with taking this trip because our 4th rider, Benami, was knowledgeable about bikes, and I knew that to handle the terrain we would be riding on an experienced biker was needed. It only took one day of riding around Manali for the group to delegate me as the last rider in our convoy, as I clearly have a tendency to ride faster than the group would like. This reminded me of winter ski trips with my family as a child, when I would race down the mountain as fast as I could, because that’s what was fun to me. And after yelling at me a few times, I was always forced to be the last skier in order to slow down my pace. I guess I’ve just always had a thing for the adrenaline rush that goes along with high speed sports and activities. Additionally, after we all received our bikes, we decided that all expenses of the trip related to our motorcycles would be split amongst the entire group, in order to be fair. It was a Communist system of sorts, which ensured that any problems with a specific bike would be shared, monetarily, between all of us.

The typical route for this trip, stopping at all the most beautiful sites/villages, takes 9 days if done in a jeep. Because my time in India is running out soon, and I still want to reach Ladakh, I will be very happy if we finish it in 9 days. But I am not so hopeful, and expect a lag of a few days, which is still ok. I've met countless people, both tourists and Indians, who have done this trip, in jeeps, local buses, and a few who did it on motorcycles. The latter, of course, claimed their method of transportation to be the best. And when I found this group who were planning to rent bikes for the trip, I knew there was no way I was going to miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And even more encouraging than all of the personal recommendations I heard, I became truly inspired by a quote of Rudyard Kipling's (the author of The Jungle Book) I read in my Lonely Planet guide book. On his first visit to the Spiti Valley, the beautiful sights he saw led him to proclaim, "Surely the gods live here; this is no place for men." And so on the morning of July 5th, 2009, we began our journey, fingers crossed that we would arrive back in Manali safely, despite our, as one of the Indian motorcycle mechanics put it, "lack of experience."

The 2 Days That Aged Me 2 Years
Of the 4 hours I laid in bed, I probably got only 1 full hour of sleep the night before we embarked on our motorcycle journey. My sleep problems were not because I was anxious about the trip (which often happens the night before something exciting), but rather because I was suffering through some stomach cramps from a bad pizza I ate the night before. So at 5am, we woke up, packed our bikes, and by 7 we were on the road. We knew our first day was to be our longest - approx. 8-10 hours, or so we thought - so we wanted to waste no time. And other than 1 flat tire and a few extraneous stops, we had made good headway 5 hours into the ride. Bear in mind; I was riding on 1 hour of sleep, and every stop we made I took the opportunity to lay down, put my head on my bag, and close my eyes, even if only for 2 minutes. Fortunately, my exhaustion was not a problem while riding. The combination of the manual transmission on the bike and the more-often-than-not unpaved dirt road ensured that I remain alert, whether my brain wanted to or not. Plus, most of the ride I had music playing (don't worry, in one ear only), and that also helped me stay focused, as it did on the Annapurna trek in Nepal. And, inaudible to anybody else, I loudly sang along with the music playing, behind my bandana that prevented dust, dirt, and even small pebbles from entering my mouth while riding. About halfway through the day, we approached the opening to a very large tunnel, which at the time we didn’t realize was also very long. We all stopped our bikes before entering, stared into the darkness ahead, looked at each other, and proceeded. But not a single one of us thought to A) remove our sunglasses, or B) turn on our headlights (which we had not done once yet). As we entered the tunnel, it was almost pitch-black. Benami and Amir kept riding, but Lior was completely blinded. Instinctively, he rode up close to the curb, and in the process stalled out. I took my glasses off, holding them in my mouth, and rode my bike behind his to light up his way. We made our way out of the tunnel, and spent the next 5 minutes laughing at our stupidity. Another lesson learned, but at least now we knew how to turn on our headlights.

As the afternoon sun began to heat up, so did our bikes. Every time one of the bikes stalled from exhaustion, we had to take a break to let them rest and cool down. And these breaks became more and more frequent. But stubbornly, we were determined to reach our destination, oblivious to what lay ahead. And what lay ahead of us was an uphill climb to a mountain pass on a dirt/rock/boulder-road. After stalling out (1 of many times), I caught up with the rest of the group a couple of hundred meters uphill. As it turns out, in the middle of the ride, Amir's exhaust pipe simply blew out of place. And by that, I mean it completely disconnected from the engine, and was hanging off the side of the bike. (He actually kept riding like this for a minute before Benami was able to stop him and point it out). We began to jimmy-rig it back into place, and planned to use a thin metal cable (the only thing we had that might've stood a chance against the bike's heat) to hold it in place. Just as we reached the final stage, a truck drove up, and we took the opportunity to load the bike up and send two people to the next village with a mechanic. So now we were 3 bikes and 4 passengers, and we still had quite a way to climb, with bikes that were begging us to call it a night. That was not an option though, since we were in the middle of nowhere, and so we marched on. Within 10 minutes, Lior and I both had our bikes fall over, simultaneously. Lifting them up, and getting them started on the steep incline we were on, was a task we were only able to accomplish because of how desperate we were to find a place to sleep. Not a minute passed before I once again knocked my bike over, this time out of pure exhaustion. 10 minutes later, Lior did the same, only in doing so his front brake pedal broke, along with his mirror. As they replaced the brake pedal, I found myself a nice area to lie down and doze off. I was awoken probably 20 minutes later, by a cow only meters away, slowly walking up the hill in my direction. The bike was fixed, and we continued.

At this point, my bike said "No More!" I wasn't able to ride more than 3 minutes continuously, and I probably stalled out another 7 or 8 times before we reached the top of the pass. It was 7:30 now, and the sun had already set behind the mountains, but there was still some light in the sky. Of the 10 locals who were up at the pass, not 1 of them spoke English. The map we had was with Amir, on the truck, but we were fairly sure that there was a village only a few kilometers downhill. Not wanting to stay the 4 of us in the 1 available double-bed room, and also because of the frigid temperature at that altitude, we decided to ride down, and left quickly while there was still some light out. Sure enough, the village was there, 6km downhill, and we found a nice man who had a room available in his family's house. And by family, I mean him, his wife and their 3 kids, his brother with his 3 kids, and his parents. It was around 8pm when we arrived, 13 hours after we left Manali. I lay in the bed, and within minutes I was asleep. And that was the first day of our Kinnaur/Spiti trip. And even at the typical 10 hours it usually takes, it was supposed to be our longest day of riding. Now that I'm writing this at the end of Day 2, it's funny to look back at how naive and optimistic we were...

Day 2, like Day 1, began without a hitch. We woke up at 6:30am and were on the road by 8, as we still had roughly 40km to ride to meet up with Amir and Hadasa who rode on the truck the night before. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway for extra emphasis, we were very tired, and I mean both mind and body. But the first leg was almost all downhill, and was quite enjoyable. After 3 hours of riding, we reunited with Amir and Hadasa, ate lunch, and estimated we could ride the remaining 100km to our next destination in 4 hours, including all stops. After 20 minutes, we stopped at a roadside welder, to permanently fix Amir's exhaust. 20 minutes after they finished, we stopped at a mechanic to have him check out some leaking fuel on Amir's bike. And since we were already getting one bike serviced, we also had him check out Lior's faulty clutch. We didn't hit the road again until 5pm, but we were hopeful that we could cover the 70km to our next destination (or so we thought it was 70km) by 7:30, before sunset. The map indicated the road was a National Highway, and for the first hour or so, we were cruising in style. I mean perfectly smooth, paved roads, with 1 lane in each direction. We entered the Kinnaur Valley, riding on the road carved into the sides of the mountains, and all was glorious. But then, all of a sudden, the National Highway we loved so much, turned into a construction zone dirt road, for as far as the eye could see. Our pace slowed down, as the sun continued to inch closer and closer to the mountain peaks above. We reached a small village, where there were once again no guesthouses. So we continued on, to a village that was supposedly 9km away. After 30 minutes of riding, we asked how to get to our destination, which nobody was able to help with. The closest village with guesthouses was 5km back in the direction we came from, and then 18km uphill. The sun, and all traces of its light and warmth, were now gone. We had no choice but to make the climb, although our bikes were once again begging us to call it a night. We let the bikes rest and cool down for 20 minutes, while we mentally prepared ourselves for what we expected to be a 1-hour ride. It was 9:20pm when we started riding. 7km in, Amir's bike stalled out. We waited a few minutes and started again. 4km later, Amir's engine started smoking. This was a sign we needed to wait much longer than a few minutes. We were 6km away from our destination, it was almost 11pm, we didn't have any water, and the fate of Amir's motorcycle was uncertain. We all started thinking about the worst case scenario of sleeping outside for the night. There were 2 things though that were going our way; it wasn't bitterly cold out, and the full moon provided us plenty of light so the occasional passing car could see us and our bikes. We killed time while waiting by taking pictures, telling jokes, and smoking cigarettes. After 45 minutes, we decided to continue. It was a grueling 30-minute 6km climb, and at the first guesthouse we spotted, we parked our bikes, and thanked the heavens that we arrived. The day that began at 8am, ended at 11:30pm. 15.5 hours. And only 24 hours earlier, we were so relieved that we wouldn't have to go through anything close to another 13 hour day. After these 2 brutal days, we are no longer naive, or optimistic. We're now beginning to underestimate ourselves. That way, we can't end up disappointed when we don't reach our planned destination, or worse yet, stranded on the side of the road overnight.

To be continued...

Time is Flying

2009-06-28T04:15:00.000-07:00

It's been over a month since I last wrote on this blog, and I've now learned the hard way that I need to try to update this thing more often. I could write an entire book just describing what I've done the past 5 weeks, but I'll try to condense it by listing the places I visited, and some of the highlights. And while I do feel that I was able to fully explore and appreciate all the places I visited in the time I spent there, if I had more time available in India, I would've likely stayed in each place at least twice as long.

Dharamsala - The Home of the Dalai Lama.
I spent roughly 3 weeks amongst the three towns outlying Dharamsala; McLeod Ganj, Dharamkot, and Bagsu.
We took a few day hikes during our time there, some to waterfalls, some to nice viewpoints. And on every single hike, at least one random dog joined along to guide us safely there and back.
Dharamsala also has a great music scene, and every night there were jam sessions going on at different cafes. I heard a plethora of foreign instruments, including my favorite, the pantam.
In Upper Bagsu, we often sat at the Zion Cafe, where you could often find Baba Jee sitting with the tourists, imparting his wisdom upon them while he was on vacation. I even saw him sitting at the internet cafe once, which was quite a funny sight to see, when you consider the fact that he looks something like this.
On the night we left Dharamsala, as we were waiting for our bus, a jeep full of drunk Indians parked their jeep by us, jumped out with the music blasting, and danced in front of the shining headlights. They invited us to join, to which we happily obliged them, knowing they would be very pleased to see our "Westernized" dancing styles, and try to imitate us.

Manali
Realizing that I only had about 1.5 months left in Northern India, and lots more I wanted to see and do, I decided it was time to start making moves, and used my 4 days in Manali to thoroughly explore the 3 connecting cities (New Manali, Old Manali, and Vashist). Coincidentally, the day we arrived in Manali there was a party going on, and for a change I was able to find some friends to have a few drinks with, instead of drinking alone (which I sadly have had to succumb to a few times so far).
We also spent a day at a carnival/4th-rate amusement park of sorts in the woods around Old Manali, which was quite interesting.

Kasol
Like Manali, Kasol is more of a hub city than a place to stay for a very long time. I left Manali on my own, to meet some friends I had traveled with briefly a few weeks previously. After 2 days in Kasol, we were ready to head to the mountains, hopping (or rather, trudging along with our bags) from village to village. Our first stop was Pulga, where I unfortunately had to battle an unpleasant stomach bug on the first day. But besides that, the village was a quiet, relaxing place, with a "fairy forest" and waterfall to keep us busy during the days there. And like most villages in India which do not have much electricity, showers are taken with a hot bucket of water. It may not sound ideal, but it's surprisingly fun (once in a while). On our last night in Pulga, we slaughtered some chickens and had ourselves a nice bbq in the forest.
After three days, we decided to hike up to Khirganga, a 5-hour uphill climb that broke my back from all the weight I was carrying. But for the first time on my trip, I arrived at a place that truly didn't have any electricity. Generators and solar power were saved for the evenings, so the stereo would have enough juice to play. During the day, you could find total silence by just wandering away from the 4 guest houses the village contains. And once again, unfortunately, I got sick up in the mountains. Luckily for me, the draw of Khirganga is not just the amazing view, but also the hot springs located on the mountain. A 20-minute dip every evening, with a hot spring shower afterwards was the best medicine for my cold (especially considering I didn't bring my first-aid kit with me, so the hot spring was all I had).
From Khirganga, we headed down to Tosh to meet up with some other friends. And once again, we spent our days exploring new waterfalls and sights around the village.

Now I'm back in Kasol, ready to depart for Manali tomorrow, and then continue North. I have about a month left in India before I head to Thailand, and now it seems like time is tight. I will likely have to sacrifice visiting a place or two, but I'm not thinking about it too much, and will just let the chips fall as they may. After 2+ months of traveling, I have started to understand how to get the most out of my trip, and not get caught up in the triviality of deciding what to do and where to go. I also have stopped getting shocked on a daily basis by situations and people I encounter. After all, it's India. And in India, sab kuch milega (everything is possible).

It's funny how in India, you continue to see the same people you saw or met somewhere previously on the trip, months later and hundreds of miles away. You never really say goodbye to other travelers in India, only "see you later." The exception to that is those travelers who are at the end of their trips, and are heading home soon. That is something to which I can not relate, as I can't even picture getting on my plane back to Israel, and subsequently, New Jersey. And while I am leaving India soon, I do plan on returning to explore the South of India after my stint in Southeast Asia. So to India, I will also not be saying goodbye, but instead, "see you later."

Taking My Time

2009-05-21T03:17:00.000-07:00

The following was written on May 20th, in transit between Rishikesh and Dharamsala:

5 days ago, Daniel and I arrived in Rishikesh, for what we expected to be a relaxing time after our trekking in Nepal. And while we did relax plenty, this past week was not without its excitement as well. Our first day consisted of exploring the city, enjoying internet speed that would make a Nepali's head explode, and eating Shabbat dinner at the Chabad House. The excitement began on Day 2, when we were enjoying our morning chai on our balcony, overlooking the Ganges River. Daniel spotted a monkey on the roof of the building next to ours, and enticed him to come over with the chocolate chip 'Hide & Seek' cookies we were eating. The monkey climbed up to the balcony next to ours, and waited for his treat. Daniel, the hero, decided that he wanted a picture, and approached the monkey with his camera. Monkey didn't like this, and quickly showed us his snarling teeth. At this point, I got into defensive mode, as Daniel quickly ran into the room, leaving only me and Mojo (we'll call the monkey Mojo) out there to work things out. I was anticipating an imminent attack, and just wanted to get Mojo away. So I grabbed another cookie, waved it in front of his face so he saw what it was, and then threw it down onto the roof of the building next to ours, where Mojo came from. Mojo didn't like this. I could tell because now his mouth was open completely, showing off all of his teeth, and not in a "look Mom, no cavities!" kind of way. I quickly grabbed the plastic chair out on the balcony, and held it up in the air between me and Mojo, ready to defend against any swipe of his claw, or even a full leap (and subsequent eating of my face). At this point, Daniel came back outside, with his flute in hand, as if it would help him for even an instant against a monkey attack. Perhaps subdueing Mojo with a sweet melody would've calmed him, but unfortunately neither of us can make any such sweet melodies with the flute. Fortunately, Mojo was more bark than bite, and after throwing a little water at him (a helpful tip from our British neighbors), he climbed back down to the other building. Regardless, we still entered the room in a hurry and locked the door. My hands were shaking for the next 15 minutes, and it took 2 cigarettes to calm my nerves. During this time, while I reflected upon what just happened, I told myself that this was surely to be one of many monkey incidents I will experience on my trip, and began to mentally prepare myself for how I would handle the next one.

As an aside, this was not my first traumatizing experience with a monkey. As a child, in Israel, we used to go to the zoo quite often, and the monkeys were always my favorite. On one trip, with my brother, my 2 cousins, and my grandmother, I came to the monkey cage with some sliced up carrots in hand. A small monkey climbed down to me, and I extended my hand with a carrot in it. I was 7 years old or so at the time, and the American wiseasseyness influence was already strong with me. As the monkey grabbed the carrot with his little paw, I said "Here you go. Just kidding!" and pulled it away. I repeated this 2 more times, each time the monkey trying to grab the carrot with all his might. But his paw was just too small, and even against my 7-year-old hand, he wasn't able to win this tug-of-war battle. Despite his size and age though, he was still smarter than me, and I learned this very quickly. While I was focused on his feeble attempts to grab the carrot, he sneakily reached his other hand through the fence, grabbed a handful of my hair, and gave a powerful pull. I screamed in pain, dropped the carrot (which he quickly scooped up), and backed away from the fence, crying. And at that moment, when I was feeling both shame and physical pain, and needed some comfort and support from my family, I was greeted instead by uncontrollable laughter from my cousins, my brother, and even my grandmother. It made the hurt that much worse. But, looking back, it also made the whole event that much more memorable, and I'm sure if I was in their place, I would've peed my pants laughing. But enough about monkeys. For now...

Daniel and I spent two more days walking around Rishikesh, swimming in the Ganges River (upstream from where they burn the bodies) and exploring some waterfalls on the outskirts o the city. We also spent many hours in the various waterfront cafes, eating delicious food and meeting many more travelers. At first I was quite surprised to meet as many Americans as I did, but being that Rishikesh is considered the Yoga Capital of the World, it made a little more sense.

So day 4 arrived - our last full day in Rishikesh - and I already slept through my alarm 2 days in a row and missed the 7:30AM Yoga classes. But the night before we were finally able to rent 2 mopeds, so there was plenty to see and do that day. We started off by driving around the city, exploring areas we hadn't been to before. We also took the opportunity to visit the renowned Maharishi Mahesh Yogi ashram, where The Beatles stayed for a few months and wrote much of the White Album. There was quite a scuffle with the guard watching the gate there, but I'll keep that story out of this blog to avoid incriminating myself and Daniel. We then rode a few kilometers past the opposite side of Rishikesh, where we hiked up to another waterfall. There, we found a group of Indians relaxing in the river. They were on vacation from Delhi, and enjoying a bottle of whiskey they brought from home (no alcohol is sold in Rishikesh), and were very eager to have us imbibe with them. After finishing off the bottle, we rode (cautiously) to the waterfall we visited the day before, and took a walk down the river. This walk turned into a metaphor for my trip. Because I was walking down the river barefoot, I had to be very careful where I stepped in the water, as there were many odd-shaped rocks underneath. But as we walked down, we kept a steady pace, and I was only able to choose what my next step would be within a second, without looking further ahead to determine if I was taking the best path down the river. As I have attempted on this trip to live in the moment, only making decisions that affect my immediate plans, with no regard for the near future, I was walking down that river and only worrying about that next step. So that was a moment of (whiskey-induced) enlightenment for me, and I'm hoping there will be many more, with or without the whiskey influence, along the way.

After this hike, we rode on our mopeds to another, bigger waterfall, where we hung out with some locals. The next day, I woke up early and actually went to a Yoga class. My first attempt at Yoga. It was nice and relaxing, though challenging at times. I will surely try it again at some point, when I regain the feeling in my lower back. Just kidding. I'm already prepared to try another attempt at the One-Legged King Pigeon pose, but this time I'll stretch a little more beforehand.

And so now we are on our way to Dharamsala. I'm sitting on the floor of the train, between the cars, with my legs hanging outside the open door, writing in my notebook. It is quite exhilirating, though frightening when another train comes whizzing by in the other direction, with no warning. While I'm writing about my time in Rishikesh, I'm also reflecting upon my entire trip, and what I've seen and done so far. And for the first time in the 1.5 months that I've been traveling, I have departed for my next destination without any urgency to leave my current location. That's made for a nice change of pace, since I had felt a bit pressed for time up until now, and can really feel the difference now that I'm in no rush to get anywhere else. Rishikesh was a great experience, and I'm expecting that as I continue North, it will only get better, and I will learn to appreciate India, and traveling in general, more and more.

1 Month Down, ? Months to Go

2009-05-08T01:09:00.000-07:00

Never in my life have I been in the uncomfortable situations I have found myself in on this trip (mostly cold showers, the sweltering afternoon heat, and 15+ hour bus/train rides), yet I've had nothing less than a full smile on my face every second of the past few weeks. The other day, as I showered under the cold water in the dark bathroom (yes, the bathroom - the shower and toilet are side-by-side), my headlamp resting on the sink, lighting up one corner of the ceiling, trying to keep my balance as I washed my foot to avoid stepping on the floor without my shower sandal, I thought about my trip so far, and what is still yet to come, and said to myself, "I'm the luckiest person in the world right now." Today marks one month exactly since I started my trip (not including my time in Israel). The bulk of my trip so far has been the 2-week Annapurna Circuit trek in Nepal (the decision to go there was made spontaneously at around 11am on 4/21 - that night we were on a sleeper bus to Delhi, and the next afternoon we were on a flight to Nepal), as well as the few days before and after it in Kathmandu and Pokhara. The trek was phenomenal. Every day brought us new views of the breathtaking Annapurna Mt. range. But the trek was very challenging as well, with the climax of the trek occurring on the 11th day, which started at 5am at 4,400 meters, climbing snow-covered mountains all day up to the Thorung La Pass at 5,400 meters, and then climbing down to 3,700 meters (common misconception: walking downhill is easier than walking uphill), finishing the day around 5pm. And as I saw on earlier days of the trek (with the day of crossing the Thorung La Pass being no exception), the more difficult the climbing was, the more beautiful the views were, and the experience felt that much more rewarding. And I can say without any hesitation that that day, May 3rd, was my favorite day of the trip so far, and will be hard to beat.

The amazing thing is, this past month of my trip is only a fraction of what my total trip will be, although I knew the Annapurna trek would be one of the biggest highlights. Now I'm on a detoured route to Northern India, with 2 guys I met on the trek. We stopped in Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha, before crossing (freely walking across) the border to India. I also just split off from the last of the original crew I was traveling with, which I felt was the step I needed to take to truly feel like I'm traveling alone. And while I am ultimately alone on this trip, I have spent the lion's share of my time with other people. I've met dozens of Europeans, Australians, Americans, and of course, Israelis. I've been traveling with Israelis so much, in fact, that I have found myself on a few occassions speaking English with a Hebrew accent, subconsciously. This is different from when I intentionally use the Hebrew accent, to assist in bargaining power and getting what is known as the "Israeli deal." The "deal" is different in every country and situation (food, lodging, shopping, etc.), but anywhere you go that Israelis have been to before (basically anywhere in the world except a few Middle Eastern countries), negotiation is always an option.

Tomorrow I head to Rishikesh, which is known as the "Yoga Capital of the World." I think I will get some much-needed R&R for a week or two while I'm there, as this past month has been a bit tiring with all the traveling around, as well as from the trek itself, which was far from what would be considered 'rest & relaxation.' I have roughly 2.5 months now before I head to Thailand at the end of July, which I think should be a sufficient amount of time to explore Northern India and do a few more treks. And I also learned something else while on my trek. A few weeks ago, my thought on this kind of traveling was that this is the best time/age of my life to be doing this kind of trip. And after meeting so many 50+ year-olds on the trek, I realized that it's never too late to see any part of the world, or climb any mountain. And I plan on doing just that, until the day my body simply can't take it anymore.

So here goes. India, Take 2.

P.S. I lost my notebook the day before the Annapurna trek, and decided mid-way through it to keep a video journal to somehow document the trip. The first video is on YouTube. I will link the subsequent ones on my Facebook profile. Nepal Annapurna Circuit Trek Video (Intro)

Sunrise, Sunset

2009-04-18T03:33:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to see the sunrise. Actually, I woke up at 5am this morning to do a 1-hour climb up a mountain to Savitri Temple, where we watched the sun rise over the city of Pushkar. Needless to say, it was incredible. In an hour or so, we will hike up to Brahma Temple on the other side of the city, to watch the sun set over Pushkar and Savitri Temple. We arrived in Pushkar yesterday morning, taking a 10-hour sleeper bus from Delhi. Basically they stick you in a coffin-sized compartment in the bus, and as the name implies, you sleep through the night. It was actually pretty awesome.

The city of Pushkar itself is beautiful - only hours away from Delhi but a whole new world. The people are incredibly friendly, bright, beautiful colors everywhere, and relatively calmer than the Main Bazaar in Delhi. And there is actually more Hebrew signage here than in Delhi, but because we arrived at the end of the season, there are very few Israelis still here.

We also visited the Taj Mahal a few days ago. About 5 hours each way in a jeep makes it a tough day, but I was not going to let myself regret not seeing the Taj. 1 of 7 Wonders of the World down, 6 to go...

While I came to India with no set plans, I did have a rough trip outline, and intended on heading to Nepal within 2 weeks of arriving in India, to do the famous Annapurna Trek at the base of Everest before the season closes, reopening only around September. I have been wrestling with the thought of changing my course and continuing in Northern India for the next few months, and then reaching Nepal when the next season begins. I have a few days left to decide, but I'm not rushing to make any decisions until I have to. 11 of us arrived at the Yes Please Guesthouse from our original flight. 7 of us took the sleeper bus to Pushkar. From here, only 2 people know with certainty where they are heading after this week(or so)-long visit in the region of Rajasthan, and the rest of us will play it by ear.

So that's it for now. I'm heading out to see the sunset now.

Namaste, and Shabbat Shalom.
-Erez

Touching Down in Delhi

2009-04-14T03:45:00.000-07:00

As the plane descended beneath the clouds, the land below, quite different from any other I'd seen from that height, came into sight. The most dimly-lit cities I had ever seen. An occassional random assortment of specks of lights bunched together, surrounded by darkness, and I was left only with my imagination to wonder what it all was. Yet I knew that in the morning, I would start to instantly better understand the land I was in.

When they opened the airplane door, the smell was not as bad as I had heard from some people, though it was certainly noticeable. A crazy non-stop-honking cab ride later, we arrived at the Yes Please Guesthouse with roughly 20 other Israelis. While we were hanging out and drinking chai, an older Israeli man walked in with bite marks on his leg, saying he just got bit by a dog. At night, there are literally 2 stray dogs for every 10 paces that you take. And they are all the same inbred overbred dogs so they all look alike, just different sizes and colors. They typically lay quietly, but a honking tuk-tuk passing by could aggravate them, so remaining alert is critical.

We spent the day today walking around the Main Bazaar area. It's amazing how many Indians here speak Hebrew and how many of their signs are in Hebrew. If you're ever here, I recommend getting the Chicken Masala at the Hare Rama Guesthouse. Get it only medium hot though, trust me. And everything is SO cheap! I feel like a millionaire! Rupee rupee bills ya'll!

Tomorrow we're heading to the Taj Mahal for a day trip, so look out for the next update, and hopefully pictures up on my facebook shortly afterwards.

That's it for now. I hope you can all put up with my switching from serious writing about the amazing things I see/experience, the fun/funny stories that happen, and just my regular wise-assing and sarcasm. Hey, it's like 3 blogs in one! Lucky you!

The 11th Hour

2009-04-12T16:51:00.000-07:00

As I sit here on the computer, a mere hours before my flight to India, I keep having to remind myself to not write anything about the upcoming days, weeks, or months, but rather focus on the recent past, and more importantly, the present.

It's been quite a hectic 2.5 weeks in Israel, reuniting with family, friends, and the land that I have always and will always think of as my home. No different than when I was in the US a few weeks ago, my thoughts have continued to be on my upcoming trip, with frequent reminders from everyone I've been around as they ask questions and give me travel tips for the places they've visited.

And now it's here. The 11th hour. 3am. 1 more hour until I have to catch my train to the airport. And it still hasn't hit me. Ya know, the big "Holy shit I'm about to go backpacking on my own for the next 6 months!" I think it will come when I'm standing on the platform in an hour, waiting for my train. The first time I'll be all alone to start my journey. Oops. There I go talking in the future tense.

No predictions. No anticipations. Just the present. And right now, the present is a bit uneventful, so I guess we'll just have to wait for when the present becomes more interesting, and then (when I find an Internet cafe) I'll tell you all about it as my recent past.

The Beginning of the Beginning

2009-03-20T15:56:00.001-07:00

I quit my job today.

I don't think I have much more to say about that, because besides having to part from the people who have been a part of my life everyday for the past 2.5 years, I don't have much more to look back on. Instead, I am only looking ahead. In 5 days I leave for Israel. I haven't been there in nearly 2 years, and seeing all my friends and family, as well as just being in Israel, has caused much excitement for me. And a few weeks after that, my true adventure begins.

All feelings of nervousness and hesitation have dissipated over the past few weeks, as the excitement and anticipation have been building up quickly. And telling the story of my travel plans (or lack thereof) countless times, to every person I see, has even made me start to think of this trip as no big deal, despite the shocking reactions everybody has had, and continue to have.

The next few days will consist of saying goodbye to all those closest to me (both figuratively and geographically). It will be quite the emotional rollercoaster, though I'll spare you all from having to read about it. A few weeks of short posts about the build-up to my trip, with interspersed anecdotes from my encounters in Israel (and believe me, there are always some tales for the books that come from Israel, though they may not all be appropriate for communicating on here), and then this blog should really begin to take form as the travel blog it's intended to be. But until then, I'm going to keep living my life 1-week-ahead at a time. Baby steps, right?