Lori x2

I feel incredibly lucky to have just spent two weeks with my friend Lori for a second time this year (no, the cute kid is not Lori, but a charming Antigua lad). In the spring it was SE Asia - this time she came to explore Mayan ruins, lakes, villages, churches, cemeteries, markets, chicken bus rides and colonial towns of Guatemala.

Being lazy, I'm linking you to Lori's blog to read about our adventures. She's summed up our travels in several posts better than I could!

Photos to come...

I'm now planning to base myself in Antigua, Guatemala for the next 3-4 weeks to do some volunteer work with cute kiddos. The vibrant culture and lovely setting amongst volcanoes is perfect way to spend the majority of my remaining time on the road. I'll head back to LA from Nicaragua on Nov 24 to give thanks with my family there, then visit friends and family in No and So Cal for the month of Dec. Hard to believe I'm on my last leg! It's been quite a ride.

Oh, and try not to touch public walls - you never know what those walls have seen and felt... (see Lori's blog) And don't forget to pack heat when you come to Guatemala - you'll fit right in. It seems everyone, including Pepsi or meat delivery trucks, has armed guards with shotguns.

People listening

i've discovered a new pastime, not people watching but people listening. not eavesdropping, mind you, but sitting on a balcony listening to the sounds of a small town come alive in the morning, or go to sleep in the evening - or not go to sleep as the case may be. sounds of life. i guess i've been doing this along the way - sounds of muslim prayer call, sounds of the ocean roaring, sounds of tibetan buddhist prayer wheels spinning or markets bustling, but i once again had a revelation of how eye (or ear) opening it is to just sit, and listen, in stillness. sometimes i'm so focused on the visuals and making photographs that i perhaps forget to hear on top of see.

this particular rural town is called Teotitlan, in the Oaxaca Valley, Mexico known for its weaving - literally every household has at least one loom (yes, I've switched continents since my last blog entry). a brief and likely incomplete list of the town rumblings: roosters (of course), packs of dogs barking, donkeys, sheep, children's chatter, church bells ringing, public service announcements over a loud speaker delivered around town via a pickup truck, marching bands and fireworks (both of the latter literally at all hours of the day).

speaking of fireworks, adrienne and I happened upon an nighttime saint's day celebration outside a church in the city of Oaxaca. Adrienne spontaneously bought a plane ticket to join me in oaxaca for 2 1/2 weeks 5 days before departure - i adore spontaneity! Anyhow, we joined the crowd close to the action, the action being men taking turns putting a roughly built wooden donkey over their heads like a giant mask and dancing around. the kicker is that the donkey was adorned with fireworks, spinning an crackling - on their heads! they would swoop in close to the crowd and we'd all instinctively lean back, hoping the sparks wouldn't land on us. wild. i'm greatly looking forward to what daredevil acts will occur on Sept 15 - independence day.

i can't write about oaxaca without mentioning the mole and chocolate (tortillas, mango, avocado tambien). oaxacans drink bowls of hot chocolate & dip bread for breakfast. you have to experience both yourself, that's all i can say. oh, and the markets - crazy. oh, and the catholics here are some of the most devout I've witnessed.

we're now at the beach in Puerto Escondido, a surfer's haven. while neither of us surf, we certainly enjoy watching and falling asleep to the sounds of the waves breaking.

Winds of Croatia

I can't tell you what a feeling it was to see Ali walk out of the Zagreb hotel as I was approaching it. For months I had been looking forward to seeing my friend of 20 years. We laughed, we cried, it was better than Cats. Our week in Croatia went by way too fast, as all travel seems to do, but I relished every minute of it. We spent most of the week in the seaside resort town of Bol on an island called Brac in the Adriatic Sea off of Split, the largest city on the Dalmatian coast. The island is known for its cheese, wine and olive oil - needless to say we ate and drank well.

We chose Bol for its lovely 'golden horn' pebble beach surrounded by pine trees, but sadly the first few days offered non-fortuitous rain and clouds. We still walked the promenade and the beach with our umbrellas - mine was turned inside out with the gale force winds. Because of these unique and strong winds, Bol is popular for wind-surfing, kitesurfing and other windy sports. While we didn't partake, it was amazing to watch the kitesurfers fly into the air 30 feet above the water. Floating in the extremely salty turquoise water was more my style, that is, once the sun came out. Which it did, and it was glorious.

Ali and I took a daytrip from our island back to Split (usually people do that the other way around), but we wanted to maximize our island time. Split has a couple thousand years of interesting history, with the Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Hungarians, Austrians & Slavs all ruling the city at their given times. The Romans built a large palace back in AD 300, as the Romans do, and today the palace walls house the old city where you can walk the narrow alleys and buy trinkets.

It was a trip to board a plane in Split for a short flight to Zurich, then fly direct to Miami. Miami! Back on US soil after 7 months. I think Miami was a smart choice for a pitstop in the states before heading to Mexico & Central America, not only because my grandma Libby, aunt Kathy and friend Jeanette live here (as wells as having many out of town visitors). My culture shock has been lessened by a city of bilingual signs, Spanish speakers and gorging myself on Cuban food.

Roadtrippin the Balkans

Istanbul to Bulgaria, Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Bosnia overland in 5 weeks. Yep, Susan and I were on a mission, back to moving a bit too quickly to cover lots of ground, but what are ya gonna do. Including many scorching hot buses and trains, I feel I've picked up a taste of the people and cultures in these countries, each with a vast history of which I knew little.  Here are some mini profiles of gracious people I met and our brief interludes:

Bulgaria

Konstantin, a 19-year old over-achieving smartie I met on a train. Loves taking 10+ day backpacking trips into the wilderness, extreme snowboarding and is passionate about 4x4 off-roading of the souped-up Suzuki sort.  He and his dad organize competitions, photograph and video them for magazines while competing too. He showed me some clips of his soon to be released DVD documenting the latest competition in Greece and the sport looks like a lot of rough & tumble fun. When not producing DVDs, he's studying at a college for the elite brains of Bulgaria, wherein only 8 or 9 of the 30 kids accepted in his department actually graduate each year. He's not your average 19-year Bulgarian old for sure. His dad, mom and sister are all professional photographers and are rarely in the same place at once, each traveling to different places for different jobs. When I probed about change since Bulgaria became part of the EU, Konstantin said that joining the EU has actually put Bulgarians in a more desperate position financially. Prices have shot up with the Euro, but salaries haven't. This seemed to be a recurring theme as I traveled through other recently joined EU countries. 

Macedonia

A humble day of gifts from strangers. Strolling the farmers market in Ohrid, i asked to take a photo of 3 folks chatting behind their counter selling dry beans. They smiled with a sure! and asked me to sit down with them. After kindly refusing to try their rakiya (home-brewed liquor) since it was 10am, I accepted their offer to buy me a coffee and we talked for some time about life and the states.  That afternoon as I was walking along a beach on the lake a man waved me over to where he, his son and friend were putting their tiny motorboat in the water. While their English was limited, I finally understood that they were insisting I come out on the lake with them in the boat. I was delighted. Sadly after 20 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to start the motor, I thanked them and decided not to wait as I didn't trust the motor to last even if they could start it. Sure enough, an hour later I saw them out on the lake paddling back and we waved at each other laughing.  At sunset I was drinking a beer at an outdoor cafe on the lake. The only other people there were a group of early 20-something friends having a good ole time. After I finished my beer, the waitress came over with another and said it was from the kids who I hadn't even been hanging out with. They could tell I wasn't a local and wanted to show me the Macedonian hospitality. I certainly found out all about it that day!

Albania

Susan and I were waiting at a cafe for a bus to take us across the border into Montenegro. A woman sitting at the table next to us (in photo on the left) asked where we are from and was thrilled when we responded the states since she is an Albanian living in NY.  In Albania she owns an evening gown boutique with imported gowns from a NY designer. In NY she owns a bridal gown shop. She asked if we needed any help, then decided she was going to drive us across the border to our destination down Ulcinj about 45 min away (not counting waiting at the border). She called up her brother-in-law and shortly thereafter he and his daughter showed up. She paid for our drinks, stopped to buy us water bottles, treated us to lunch once we arrived and helped us find a room. Says she loves Americans and loves to help people in general. We were greatly touched by her generosity to us strangers. In talking about how people are in essence the same around the world, she commented that people with little money have big open hearts and people with too much money have closed hearts. While a generalization, I have met so many people during these travels who have so very little but are willing to give that little away. It's their culture and that's the way you treat people, of course. It's so simple and natural. This woman not only has a big heart but a huge smile and joyous energy too.  The US concepts of individual success and constant drive for achievement leading to payday certainly aren't the ways of the world wherein family and community and helping each other comes first. I have a lot to learn. 

Montenegro

Boris (on left) lives in the capital but was visiting Kotor with friends for the day. I approached him & his friends at a cafe to ask if they were staying in town as Susan and I had struck out a few times on private rooms that weren't to our liking. Turns out his family owns a guesthouse on the water 10km outside the old walled city. He wasn't sure if we'd like the rooms, so he offered to drive us there to check it out. We ended up staying for a couple nights in a 3rd floor room with a stellar view, only leaving because it was 100 degrees in our room at night and there was no running water in that part of town the whole time we were there. Boris had come back the 2nd night and offered the next day to drive us back to the old town, help us find a room and show us around town for the day. He drove us to a lovely beach that we never would have known about and we talked for hours. He's an artist, but working as a graphic designer in the news industry. Really cool sweetheart who could have just said,' sorry - we aren't staying in town' when i asked, but instead went way out of his way to help out and show us a great time. 

Bosnia

Kuldija - philosopher, caregiver, husband, father, former Bosnian special forces who fought the Serbs in Sarajevo, same age as me. Stayed up til 3am talking about life under a starry sky in a Sarajevo square. I had lots of questions about the war and his time fighting when Sarajevo was under siege by the powerful Serb army surrounding all sides of a city that lies in a small valley. 15 years ago he was a fearless warrior, now he seems like he couldn't hurt a fly. It's hard for me to even comprehend his stories: crossing far into enemy territory in the middle of a foggy night to plant landmines; a successful 5-month hunt for a Serb sniper who only killed women and children - he stared down the sniper in the eyes moments before shooting him; having 7 seconds to escape after being a one-man attack on tanks 20 meters away with a handheld weapon; walking into a minefield barely escaping death once he saw his foot start to pull up a line - making his way out by slowly crawling in the snow feeling ahead with his knife. It took him 1 1/2 years to be able to sleep through the night. He threw away his numerous medals of honor. When he looks at a photo of himself from that time, he doesn't know who that person is, but he feels he has beaten that beast out of him. His wife and 7 year old daughter live in Dublin, but he has returned to Sarajevo  for 18 months so far to care for his mother dying of cancer, because that is what you do in most cultures - take care of your parents. Discussing eastern philosophy, he explained he feels a deep affinity for Native American healers, Tibetan Buddhist monks and Amazonian shamans. His dream is to visit with these three sometime in his life. He has written a book of over 1000 short philosophical insights based on his experiences in the war and hopes to publish it someday. I don't understand war. 

and then there was one

Seems I've forgotten that usually people write on a blog, not just post photos. Well, I've got a log of catching up to do. Varanasi seems ages ago. Certainly many miles away. So you'll have to excuse stories no longer flowing in chronological order. but time doesn't really matter... 

As I write (of course then it took me a couple weeks to post) I'm on a train to Salzburg after a month touring the Balkans with Susan. Sadly, very sadly, Ariella left us back in Turkey because she had places to go and people to see in France & England (and has recently returned home to Seattle - she's the bravest of us for facing re-entry first!).  Susan and I felt like a limb was missing, and certainly an emotional one was. Now I've lost another limb as Susan and I parted ways in Sarajevo mid-July. She's off to Copenhagen and I'm returning to Austria to visit my old hood. I studied photography in Salzburg back in '95 for a semester and haven't been back since.  So our summer chasing together is officially over - I couldn't have dreamed of two more amazing travel buddies. We have learned from and grown with each other in ways I think I'll continue to realize as time passes. Ladies - I'll be looking for you around corners as I continue my journey and while I likely won't see you, you'll be with me in spirit. 

Varanasi trekking

Imagine a labyrinth of narrow Venetianesque alleyways (galis) that would be impossible to navigate if it weren’t for arrowed signs painted on the cracking corner building walls leading you this way and that way to the popular guesthouses and German bakeries. For some reason in India and Nepal the locals got the idea that all bakeries should be deemed a “German” bakery. Alternatively, men offer to lead you to your destination with the hope that you’ll then check out their shop. The usual line is “I saw you yesterday. Remember me? You come look at my shop now.” Ariella and I chose a guesthouse that happened to be next door to the “burning ghat.” The ghats are the steps leading up from the Ganges that you see in all the classic images of people bathing, doing laundry and giving morning "puja" to the sun god in the river. The burning ghat is the holy holy ghat where Hindus come to cremate their relatives who have made a pilgrimage to Varanasi to die. The bodies are ceremoniously carried on stretchers down to the ghat, bodies covered by a sheet with colorful gold and red decorations. The bodies are cleansed in the river and burned under a pile of wood (the type of wood and size of the pile depends on how much a family can afford). The cremations go 5-6 at a time, 24/7. Relatives get their heads shaved in respect for the dead so there are lots of barbers sitting around to do the job. No photographs allowed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It was quite a sight to walk by every time we came and went from our hotel (and quite a smell).

Speaking of smells, the crowded alleyways are covered with trash and feces (often of unknown origin – cow, dog, cat, human?) and the stench of urine is hard to escape. But in addition to this, they are full of life. Compared to privacy-seeking westerners, street life abounds – food and chai stalls, buying/selling of every sort, worship, cows, beggars & hawkers, casual conversations and so much more. I don’t observe there to be such thing as personal space in India. Understandably so, with over a billion people living in a land mass 1/3 the size of the US.

We didn’t realize upon leaving the Nepal Himalayas that we’d be back to trekking in Varanasi, but we got quite a workout going up and down and up stairs. Let me remind you that May is the hottest year of the month in a country that gets hot hot hot. We knew this going into it, but sure enough it was too hot to be outside doing much of anything between the hours of 9am and 7pm. So after early morning boat rides or just walking the ghats to watch the morning activities & rituals, we’d find a café with at least a fan or an internet café or splurge on a day at a hotel pool.

Varanasi is quintessential India, unlike anything I’d seen on my last journey to this amazing country. Like a sign I saw, the "Ganga (Ganges) is the life line of Indian culture" - I take this to be spiritual, symbolic and geographic life line - and you can feel it. Just don’t go in May. But do go, do go.

India in not so many words

Pictures speak more than a thousand words. While I haven't written yet about my 5 weeks in India, I've now posted nearly all of my slideshows. After Varanasi and Jantar Mantar I've added:
* Agra - a visit to the Agra Fort and Taj Mahal in some serious hot weather
* Delhi - Red Fort, Old Delhi and New Delhi (including the neighborhood where we stayed called Paharganj, which we fondly (or not so fondly) referred to as Pahar Grunge)
* McLeod Ganj - home of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and his government-in-exile, as well as lots of soul-searching hippies and volunteers working with Tibetan refugees
* Pahalgam - a moutain resort town (primarily Indian tourists) in Kashmir - the landscape looks like Alaska, the gypsies look like Afghanistanis

I arrived in the 70 degree Istanbul today (ahhhhhh, so refreshing) and so begins Phase Four of my journey...
Phase One - Fiji/New Zealand/Australia
Phase Two - "Asia light" (Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos)
Phase Three - the subcontinent of Nepal & India
Phase Four - Turkey/Eastern Europe (I think. Plans could always change.)

I hope summer is treating you well!