My Four Full Moons

Before I can write anything about Madagascar I need to figure out how to frame my time here. So, in the meantime, I thought I'd share where I've been during the astronomical manifestation of a complete lunar cycle.

Full Moon No. 1:

Walking along the famous crescent beach of Port Douglas, Australia. It is one of the only places in the world where the rainforest extends to the sand and surf.

Full Moon No. 2:

The hilltribe region of northern Thailand in a luxury jungle bungalow near Chang Dao cave.

Full Moon No. 3:

Thame Monastery at 14,500 ft. a two hour hike outside of the Sherpa capital of Namche Bazar in the Himalayas of Nepal.

Full Moon No. 4:

A traditional Malagasy village on the outskirts of the Ankarana National Park in Madagascar in a primitive thatched roof hut.

All wildly romantic and exotic. All...by myself.

Mauritius

I know Spain and France aren't the global powerhouses they were back in the day. The day being 16th to 18th century history. But God love 'em, they sure did know how to colonize. Granted, the British gave us America...but that's it. The Spanish and the French gave us paradise. See, Spain had the same ambition as Great Britain. Global domination and such...but the French, well, they just colonized places where they thought it would be cool to party. Mauritius and its sister Indian Ocean islands are beautiful. The people are pleasant the food is great and the lifestyle is a perfect mix of local island flair and European sophistication. Not sure where the British went wrong in India.

Actually, that's just a joke. Delhi proved to be the positive second chance I was hoping for when it came to my feelings on India. Every person I dealt with in Calcutta and Delhi were quite helpful and personable. Barring the retarded airport personnel and 2 hour wait to get through customs, I left India feeling like I'd like to go back someday and really spend a fair amount of time there. It also helped to meet up with my friend Eva and her daughter Laura who made my brief stay in Delhi a good one.

Alright then, I head to Madagascar tomorrow and then on to Italy. Africa is on hold until fall '08. So everyone who is interested in going to Kenya, Botswana, Namibia and Zambia, get your names on the list for that trip. I'll organize it, you just show up.

Wash My Love

The angry is gone. A week in the sun 'n surf and I'm ready to pass through India en route to Madagascar...with no hard feelings. Thailand makes a great decompression chamber. Plus, my weight is back up and that was the big concern...not being fit for the upcoming mountain bike tour through northern Madagascar.

I did go a little overboard. Instead of staying in a cheap hut on the beach in Ko Samet. I found a pricey poolside villa on the beach outside of Ban Phe. So, I missed out on the backpacker crowd and had a toilet that flushed. Whatever. I'll be back on the cheap again staying in a tent and huts and local villages in Madagascar. I'm just gonna chalk this little visit up to prep work and training. Conditioning via steak and whisky.

That's it for now. More later.

Filling in Some Blanks

I need to back track. Or, back trek, as it were. See, after my mountain meltdown I never wrote a post about the group I was traveling with before trekking on my own. It was a dynamic mixed bag of characters who hailed from the Boston and Rhode Island areas, respectively. There was Jonathan and Sara and Adrian. Edward and Jenny. George and Kate. Another Kate. And my impromptu roommate, Ralph.

If there were ever a top 5 list of environments that encourages immediate bonding, the himalayas would be 1 or 2. You really get to know one another over Sherpa tea and yak dung fires. But what I appreciated most about this group was everybody's enthusiasm and determination when things got a little tough. It wasn't until I was on my own that I realized how much they helped push me through my own anxieties. I only hope that I was able to contribute a little fun and some positive vibes to everyone else's experience.

Now, here's a quick update. I know I was ragging on India a little bit ago but I'm done with that. I wasn't being entirely fair to her or to me. Wedging such a wildly intense country in between a 17-day trek in Nepal and a 10-day mountain bike ride in Madagascar just wasn't fair. I wasn't able to decompress nor was I able to regain the weight I lost from the trek (which was a concern given the upcoming mtn bike ride). I also wasn't able to focus on India and all of its good elements. It really is a trip all its own. And that's how I want to experience it some day.

So, I left.

Throw enough money at a situation and 24 hrs later you can find yourself waking up on a beach in Southern Thailand with a bowl of fresh fruit, steak dinner and enough whisky to put Xanax out of business. The revelation to head back to Thailand took place in Bodh Gaya, India...where the Buddha enlightenment...hardly a coincidence if you ask me. I've been here since the 8th and fly back through India on the 15th. Other than rearranging a few flights here and there I've done absolutely nothing except for the abovementioned beachcombing...and swimming. And I don't feel the least bit bad or lazy. I think that might be a first for me on this trip.

Pain India Ass

Now this really isn't a fair assessment of India because I've only been through 2 of its poorest states but still here's what I've decided...India is like one of those dominatrices that's really a submissive. You know the ones, wild and somewhat unruly, taunts you with obscenities until you pull their hair and smack 'em on the ass with a bamboo cane. Maybe throw in some hot wax until they understand that you're the boss. That's India.

The thing is, I only got to the hairpulling stage. See, if I were Indian I'd be doing the wobbly-bobbly head nodding they do when they are either confused or feel the need to acknowledge your existence but not your complaint. I just don't get India. I mean I'd like to eventually smack its ass but to what end?

Here's what gets me. They have an incredibly burgeoning IT industry yet they're telecom networks are for shit. Just a step up from a rotary phone. They have some of the best doctors and medical facilities in the world but they live in absolute squalor and filth at such a tremendous scale it's mindboggling. They have a richly diverse and epic history with legendary treasures and monuments yet they try to nickle and dime you to death with constant scams and they seemingly value very little. It's hard to wrap my head around it.

Like I said though, this isn't entirely fair. It would be like someone going to the deep south and making the generalization that all Americans suck apple sauce through straws and enjoy the intimate company of goats.

So, I'll give India another chance but not before swinging through Thailand to procure a gimp mask and whip to get her back in line.

Laura, don't read this post to James or Aidan. Not sure you'll want to explain all of the S&M references.

Ghats, Gnats, Gtraffic

Varanasi is intense. The traffic makes Jarkata look organized. The pollution makes Kathmandu look like a biodome. The wheeling and dealing makes Trump look like a chump. But all-in-all it is an incredible experience.

One of the big jokes at Wildman Whitewater Ranch is: Why don't Indians know how to swim? Because there's no whitewater on the Ganges. You have to do it in a good Indian voice to get the full affect...and the laughs. (Related sidenote, no Indian here who speaks English sounds anything like the Indians we make fun of in the U.S. Go figure.) Anyway, the truth is, there is no whitewater on the Ganges. I know, because I got to paddle down it the other day. It's the best way to see all of the fabled ghats as well as the cremation areas where they burn their dead and make offerings to the river. People also bath and wash their laundry along the shoreline. As do the water buffalo...sans the laundry part. Sewage from the city also dumps into the river and married couples come down to get blessed in the waters as well. It's a jarring spectacle of beauty and...well, I'm not sure there's a word to describe the apparent insanity...but it is something to behold.

Ganges a Go Go

Alright, after a 12-hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Sunauli, I managed to walk across the India border with four new friends in tow. Granted, I didn't get a pic of the 'Welcome to India' gateway because in addition to my new friends we had no less than 2 billion anxious cab drivers and bus ticket vendors just waiting to grab some of that elusive green out of our pockets. After some negotiating which at one point including free Orange Fanta, we all piled into a jeep and took a 5-hour ride to Varanasi.

Varanasi isn't one of those towns you want to roll into in the middle of the night without an idea of where you are going to stay. Fortunately, we found a decent guesthouse near the Ganges River. It was down a dark, rat infested labrynith lined with sleeping homeless people and caked with cow shit. For 200 rupee I had a fairly clean room and a bed. Granted, the bed was a slab of wood with a sheet over it. Little bit of a surprise to the ol' tailbone.

I have found a yoga center that I like and will be doing that for the next several days before slowly making my way to Delhi. I'll post pics when I can. Like Kathmandu, you see some whackass shit everywhere you look.

Goat Legroom?

Mountain flights out of Lukla aren't too stringent when it comes to carry-on items. You can board the plane with as much as you can hold in your lap.

This Sherpa lady's carry-on fell within the international standard of the two-bag minimum. One bag of lettuce and cabbage. The other, a severed goat leg. No questions asked. Except, "how are you going to cook that?"

Apparently, it's perfect for stew.

A Little Up, A Little Down

That's Pema's favorite saying here in the Khumbu. To translate that in western terms it would read: A Lot Up, A Lot Down. Sherpas are funny when it comes to hiking conditions. But that's the Himalaya in a nutshell, both physically and mentally.

See, I thought I'd actually relax having already been here before. I know the terrain. I know the drills. But like any extreme environment, the mountains and remoteness of the area aren't here to coddle you. They're here to teach you. And they employ a rollercoaster style curriculum that, in my estimation, will never be recognized or endorsed by the American public school system.

So, what have I learned? I've been selfish this year. And I've now been rewarded for this transgression with a potent brand of loneliness that only this corner of the world can dole out. Karma has a way of kicking your ass when you're on its turf. Now, that's not to say that I haven't enjoyed the company of the Lama of Thame and his wonderful family (and their broken english), or the fabled Spanish Nun who lives high above the monastery who taught me the basics of meditation, or even my non-english speaking porter, Jatar, who not only is younger than me and has two kids but refuses to get passed on the trails. Which is to say, we set a number of tourist trekking land speed records from village to village. Someone look up the time from Namche Bazar to Thame and then let me know if 2 hours and 45 minutes is impressive.

However, once nightfall comes, and you retire to the frigid thin air of your room...reality sets in. It's just you. And if your self-confidence wavers in the slightest, well, good luck trying to have a peaceful night.

But like I mentioned, it is a rollercoaster here. Lonely nights are replaced by epic days of beauty and physical accomplishments that lead to a renewal of self-confidence. Nevertheless, wanting to share this adventure grows with every passing day. So do the thoughts of spending the New Year with friends and family back home.

Yeah, so much for a relaxing time, huh?

So, I've Cheated a Bit

After breaking off from the group in Pangeboche and making my way to Phortse to start my trek to higher altitude in the Gokyo area, I hit a bit of a mental snag. Two restless nights complete with scattered confusion, difficulty breathing and a nagging strain in my neck...I finally woke up to the emotional impact of being alone and surprisingly, fretting over one really bizarre year.

All that aside, I should never make decisions early in the morning as they have proven to be my weakest moments of the day. With that being said, I made my way down to the richer, warm air of Namche Bazar to traverse over to Thame where I'll be staying with the head Lama of the local monastery. Thus scrapping Gokyo and the Renjo Pass.

It's a little bit of a disappointment especially coming on the heels of 9 days of strong trekking carrying my own gear and racing to the tops of each peak we attempted on our two day hikes...one outside of Khumjung and the other outside of Dingboche. So, I'm not quite sure how to process it all right now.

I guess all I can say is that like last time, I have unfinished business in Nepal.

I head for Thame tomorrow where I'll spend 4 or 5 days (no internet) and then I'll make my way to Lukla and on to Kathmandu. Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving.

Change O' Plans

Saw a poster today that read, "We don't conquer mountains, we conquer ourselves." Inspiration indeed...just 6 hours late. Apparently, I'm still working on that aspect of myself. After trying to procure roughly $1200 USDs in 2 days in a 3rd world country, I've scrapped the Island Peak climb. I'm just glad nobody I know is being held hostage here because, yeah, good luck trying to drum up the ransom money. But, it's not just the money. There's a bit of a fissure in my fortitude.

With that being said, here's the new plan. After the group departs from the trek on the 23rd I'm going to stay in the mountains for another 8 days and trek to several different monasteries. Just me and a porter. To get to one of the monasteries, Thame, does give us the chance to summit Gokyo Ri which registers in around 18,500 ft. Island Peak is at 20,000 ft. and the last 800 ft. require crampons, ice axes, ropes and the $700 climbing permit. Gokyo Ri is free and, according to many, offers comparable views.

So, the technical portion of the trip has been nixed but I do plan on spending plenty of time in the monasteries for some much needed mental clarity and peace. That, and my Kilimanjaro climbing money remains intact.

Alright then, until December 2nd....

Durbar Square

This post has nothing to do with pic other than the fact what I'm about to tell you happens here tenfold. Confused? Let me clarify. One thing I've noticed in nearly every country I've been to, is that guys from every culture all like to spit when stepping up to a wallmounted urinal. It never fails.

Spitting while taking a whizz isn't anything that ever crosses my mind until I hear the inevitable hacking of the guy next to me. That, and right now...but I'm not writing this from a urinal so it doesn't count.

Anyway, Nepal is notorious for its pollution so hacking and spitting are hardly confined to just bathroom visits. It's a national pasttime here. I bet they have an Olympic team...just waiting for the IOC to announce Spitting as a new event. In the meantime, I suppose everyone will just keep practicing in public...and if you are lucky enough to be a guy, the bull's eye on one of them urinal cakes.

Drum Roll, Please

In driver's ed they teach you some crazy nonword acronym that's suppose to keep you alert to all aspects of you vehicular surroundings. I don't remember the actual letters but the principles of the concept are in full effect the second you step out of your hotel here. Most places in America would make you sign a waiver to participate in activities that are on par with the challenge of simply walking down the street here. I've been clipped by no less than a dozen motorcycle mirrors and one pack animal.

To make matters even more exciting, today's traffic was supplemented with parade vehicles packed to the hilt with revelers. Most say it is for the New Year's festival but we all know it's my birthday...so thanks Nepal for the party and making me crap my pants each time I take a stroll.

On a related sidenote, people here love their fireworks. It's fun to see little kids running around lighting firecrackers until you realize they aren't your standard Black Cats but full-on 1/4 sticks of dynamite that can blow a hole the size of a cantalope in most building materials.

Hanging with AP Part 2

Today is a very lively day. Lots of random parades and impromptu celebrations. Fortunately, I've been able to find another free wifi spot to send more pics. Trying to load up on posts because I'll be offline for close to 15 days. That, and everywhere you look around here something catches your eye. Going back to the hotel to get my real camera.

Hanging with AP

I threw on my new fake Mtn Hardwear jacket I bought myself for my birthday and headed to Durbar Square and all its insanity. It's New Year's here, too. I have some video of the parade but all vids will have to wait. This guy was sitting on some temple steps. Missed a shot w/two Buddhist monks chatting up a Hindu yogi. But this dude was pretty cool just sitting their alone.

Mandala

The name of the festival is Tahir. This fine creation was made with colored grains and took about 5 hours to complete.

Color Commentary

Had no idea what this guy was saying but given his delivery I'm sure it involved some profanities and thoughts of ill-repute. Kidding. I think he just wanted me to buy some colored dust.

Festival Swing

I happen to be here during some Hindu festival. I'll get them name written down because when people tell me the name of it sounds like they have inexplicably passed out and are muttering in their sleep.

Anyway, during my mountain bike ride through the nearby villages we'd come across these giant swings that were made especially for the festival. This one happened to straddle the dirt trail we were on so we got off our bikes and hopped on the swing trying to beat the village kids' record for height. We lost.

This here is Mangal Lama my mountain bike guide for the day. If you find yourself in Nepal and want to go on a 1-day or multi-day ride, he's the man:

Mangal
+97714701701
bikehimalayas.com

KTM Valley Ride

Seeing as I signed up for a 10-day mountain bike tour in Madagascar I decided to see how the ol' legs were holding up since I haven't been on a bike in a couple of months now. I'm here to tell you 35k through the KTM valley was a bit of a chore. We started off with a steep climb up a paved road. Steep climbs in Nepal also mean steep descents. Most of the descent were on narrow dirt roads carving through various villages and rice/vegetable fields. Given the landscape, all of the farms are terraced steps on the side of hills...very scenic when you're not doing 100m m.p.h.

Some of the dirt trail climbs were so steep and wet we ended up hiking our bikes up them. However, it was the marginally inclined, rocky trails in the villages that kicked my ass. Oh well, I think I'll be ready for Madagascar come December.

Oh, like Indonesia, I'm very popular with the Nepalese villagers. Kids were running out of their houses and along side us yelling, "Namaste, Hello, How are you? Good bye." Even most adults would stop what they were doing and greet us.

Good times.

Today's a Gift

Thanks for all of the replies regarding Island Peak. Pema and I are going to talk about the logistics of it again today with clear heads. There are a number of challenges to consider. I wish it were a clear cut decision. But whatever I decide to do, I'll make the most of it.

Do what's in your heart and the universe will conspire to help you.

Enjoy your day, everyone...it's a special one.


P.S. Believe in yourself.

Kathmandu

Came across this random stupa wandering around this morning looking for a SIM card and North Face knockoff goods.

Also drank a 20 ml of San Miguel on an empty stomach. While some get intoxicated doing that, Pema and I hatched an ambitious plan to climb Island Peak instead. However, it's a bit pricey so I'm conducting a poll. Here are the options: stay an additional 7 days and climb IP for an extra $950. Or, do a 3-day kayak clinic on the Seti River for $150. Poll closes at noon today so get your votes in via email or blog comment.

This is the armchair interactive portion of my trip. I expect plenty of participation.

Thamel Me You Love Me

Eight years, almost to the day, have passed since I first visited Nepal. While there are a lot more tourists roaming the streets, it still has that same chaotic 3rd world vibe that appeals to me on such a visceral level. It feels eerily like home. I don't mean OKC or even Chicago, my mom would cringe at the thought that people randomly pissing on piles of trash that stray dogs are rooting through would be anything like where she raised me. But being here just feels right.

How I got here, however, would appeal to even the snobbiest of travelers...first class on Jet Airways. There I was in camo shorts sitting among suited execs eating my breakfast off real 'jina. I mean china. Not too bad for someone without a job...or a shower for that matter.

I'll post a pic when I get a chance. I'm staying in the Thamel District at a place called Hotel Holy Himalaya. Even ran into the guy who sold us a rug 8 years ago.

Now you all know where I am. Not hitting the trail until the 13th. There's time to join me should one of you get a wild hair.

My Dad, the Brain Surgeon

On a wildly uneventful bus ride from Chiang Mai back to Bangkok, I found myself rereading emails on my cellphone to pass the time. I came across one that asked if I would miss friends and family during the holidays. The answer is, yes. It also got me thinking about my favorite family holiday road trip. Since this blog is about travel, it applies. Now, before I get into this particular story it is important that you all have a basic understanding of my dad's educational background.

Hanging on the wall in his home office are two framed diplomas issued in his name by Oklahoma State University. One, Teaching. The other, Mechanical Engineering. Neither of which qualifies him to perform any kind of medical procedure, except maybe hand out some aspirin. Even then, you'll want to check the bottle yourself to make sure you aren't getting decades old birth control pills or the dog's heartworm medicine.

Let's flashback many years to a time without cellphones...but beepers. Only doctors and one swank oilman carried pagers. Primarily doctors, though. Our family had driven from Oklahoma City to Kansas City to visit The Plaza in all its holiday glory. One night in particular, we found ourselves at a restaurant called The Train Depot or Station, something to that regard because is was housed in a converted train station. And given the prices on the menu, they were wholly expecting their customers to pay for whatever bill was outstanding for the remodeling conversion.

Being on a budget, we all panicked at the sight of the cheapest menu item: standard hamburger for $22. We had already been seated and outfitted with a lazy susan tray that had an assortment of spring rolls, mini-burritos, and other things that had been wrapped and fried. Now really, how does a family of six graciously exit before ordering without looking like a bunch of povs? Remember the beeper? In a stroke of genius, I borrowed a quarter from my dad and called his pager from the payphone near the bathrooms. It went off as the waitress arrived to take our order. "Oh, looks like the hospital is trying to get a hold of me, do you have a phone?" The waitress brought a phone to the table and stood there as he randomly hit 7 digits on the keypad. "Uh huh. Really? Now? I'm having dinner with my family. I see. I'll be right there." All of this dialogue was heard by us, the waitress, and a busy signal.

"Jeez, I hope it's nothing too serious," the waitress responded, taking back the phone. My dad, not one to lie easily, looked her dead in the eye and without hesitation said, "Yep, emergency brain surgery."

Emergency. Brain. Surgery. Those are the words he used. Unbelievable.

We all sighed as if another dinner with dad had been ruined because of his duty to save lives. We got up and walked somberly behind him past the scrumptious salad bar toward the door, seemingly contemplating the fears and anxiety of the fictional patient he was about to crack into with a brain saw.

At the car, we doubled over laughing and celebrated our collective cleverness with high-fives. Each of us hurriedly spitting out our favorite moment of the scam. We then piled into the car with the bogus brain surgeon at the wheel in search of a restaurant that marketed good food at family-friendly prices. Can't remember where we ended up, though. Probably the Sizzler.

Tuk-Tuk

This shot was taken by Ken during our epic Tuk-Tuk ride the first night in Bangkok. If you click on the image to get the bigger view you should be able to see Ken and I in the rearview mirrors. Our driver was out getting directions for the umpteenth time.

Frogger

After spending time in Jakarta I've become something of an expert crossing streets in larger Asian metro areas. Except in this case. Ken managed to dart through a few lanes of traffic while I had to wait another 15 minutes to make my own way across. I think the frustration shows on my face. I actually thought about punching that car.

Signage

This sign was posted in my hotel. It looks to be a bit dark but the highlights read No Drugs, No Sex Trade, and No Ladyboys. In addition to everything being ridiculously cheap here, so are sex change operations. So there's a healthy or unhealthy (depending on how you look at it) population of the abovementioned ladyboys.

Gold Medal Weight Loss

I have the Ben Johnson of metabolisms. I burn through the caloric intake of any meal just with the effort it takes to eat it. That's how fast my metabolism runs. It reminds me of my sister Leslie's first dog, a chihuahua named Calvin. Real ambitious type. And scrappy. Scrappy as all hell. Instead of eating his own food, which was some mush dished out in tablespoon-sized cup, he'd go for a single chunk of the bigger dog's food. The bigger dog being Rocky, a 12-lb schnauzer. Calvin would work on this single chunk of food for an hour before polishing it off. As it turned out, after visit to the vet, we discovered that Calvin had become malnourished. He was exhausting so much energy eating that single chunk of food that he was literally starving after he finished it.

That's me. I eat all the time but just can't seem to take in more calories than I burn. Fortunately, I haven't lost that much weight...the title there is a little misleading but I do miss a Sonic burger and the activity of just sitting in a chair letting what little fat manages to survive my metabolism's wrath to pile on.

As for Calvin, one afternoon my dad and I got a frantic phone call from Leslie. He had darted out of her apartment which was part of a large complex built on some newly developed farm land. He had been missing for about 15 minutes when a stark reality set in, being no larger than a mouse, he was without a doubt boosted by a hawk. They used to flock like pigeons in that area. Given the fact he was a fearless dog, I like to imagine his struggle as being on par with Brad Pitt's character in Legends of the Fall when he encounters the bear at the end of the movie. "And it was a good death."

Wow, I have no idea what's going on with this post.

A Little Legroom Please

WTF?! I know Thai people are short but this is a bit ridiculous even by SE Asia standards. I guess for a 120 baht a night for a hotel room you can't gripe too much about the bathroom being smaller than an airplane toilet. That knob on the side of the pic is for the shower. Yes, I put the seat down and stood on the toilet for maximum showering space. Sorry Caryn, didn't think it would be right to take a picture of myself in the bathroom. The next pic I promise will have me in it.

Here's yet another goofy little translation hiccup I came across...this grocery store was boasting their product offerings on a sign in their window: BUTTER, MAGAZINES, TISSUES, INGREDIENTS. Oh really? Ingredients? Ingredients for what? Touching yourself inappropriately? Eeeesh.

To the Slaughter

Since I'm back at the Muay Thai gym, I thought I'd entertain you all with a story from an actual fight I went to see. Kawilla Stadium, it considers itself to be "the only one main standard stadium in North Thailand...REAL MUAY THAI NOT SHOW FIGHT!" Apparently, there's a touristy venue that puts on demo fights but not these guys, as clearly indicated on their flyers. Though these are real fights, the flyers can be a bit misleading. It appears that they only have a small collection of tough-looking Thai fighter photos that constantly get recirculated on each new flyer. Kind of like stock photography. The pics are never actually of the people that are fighting. The names are correct but not the photos. A bit troublesome when you place a bet based on a photo. Good thing the odds on the fight and return on your bet change throughout the actual match. Not that that would ever fly in Vegas.

Anyway, this story is about one Thai fighter in particular who is affectionately called, The Pig. Now The Pig, again, with affection, is an exceptional study in both courage and stupidity. See, The Pig is way obese, even by American standards, which makes him a bit of a novelty here in Thailand. A freak of Thai nature worth the price of admission alone. "Come one and all to see the amazing Overweight Thai Man, he'll astound you with his girth." He is also called The Pig because he is often pitted against rookie western guys looking for their first "Thai fight." A sacrificial swine thrown into the ring to build up the egos and resume of aggressive Americans and Europeans.

The study in courage comes from the understanding that any westerner who would travel thousands of miles to train and compete in one of the most violent fighting techniques in its country of origin is probably hellbent on kicking someone's ass. To be fairly overweight and marginally talented takes real courage to get into the ring. I doubt I'd do it. But The Pig always shows.

Now, the study in stupidity stems from, well, the same damn reasoning. I mean really, why? Why get in the ring knowing it isn't going to go well for you? Why take 5 knees to the head? It's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Okay, let me back up. That's not to say this dude isn't tough or that he can't do some harm himself but, yeah, why?

Nevertheless, I like The Pig...for his courage. I'm sure he has his own reasons for getting into the ring each time he gets the call to fight a westerner. I'd really like to know what's going on in that brain of his. But for now, I'll settle for his bravado.

Interesting sidenote, some girl with an eyepatch just walked by the internet cafe. Hey Bart, who knew there were hot pirate chicks in Thailand. Arrrrrrggghhh.

Oh, it's also time to hand out the award for Most Blog Comments by One Person...and the winner is: Patty Stodola. Congratulations, Patty! You get a special gift from a Palaung village in Northern Thailand. No, not water buffalo feces. But good guess. It's a handmade craft from an old lady with black teeth.

The American Condition

Cram. Cram. Cram. Then, cram some more. That's our style of travel. We try to do as much as possible with the time we have while on vacation or holiday. We tend not to focus on one thing. Instead, we attempt to do everything but oftentimes experience nothing. I blame it on Corporate America not doling out fair vacation time. Two weeks? Come on. That's why we rush stuff. We feel we need to so we get the most out of our short time. Plus, we also have that angst of, "Well, when will I get back to this side of the world again?" It's a conundrum.

I'm guilty of this, too. Even on this trip. Yesterday I struggled with a few different trip options. Stay in Chiang Dao and do a 3-day elephant/bamboo raft trek. Race down to Ko Samet island. Or, make my way to Cambodia. The last two requiring a 15-hr bus or train ride to either destination. Cramming stuff in before flying to Nepal. Instead, I walked to the monastery pictured below and decided to stay focused and get the most out of one experience. I'm now back in Chiang Mai at the Muay Thai boxing camp. The only downside now is, my flight to Nepal was canceled and the other air carrier is full. Need to figure out another way to get there.

Nevertheless, I had a revelation...a new philosophy on travel..that I hope will keep me happy when faced with multiple decisions: Don't regret the places you miss, only be grateful for the places you visit. After all, you can't do everything.

Jungle Monastery

This is my favorite Thai Buddhist temple...Tham Pha Nom. It's perched high on this jungle mountain and the main temple is actually a cave. They also have a number of inspirational signs on the way to the top. You could hear the ringing of their bells calling the monks to prayer from my bungalow at night.

Buddha

Motorscooter Diaries

...And we race together, we can ride forever...

My buddy Chris Stewart said it best, "Whoa, dude, don't ever confuse a moped for a scooter. A moped you straddle. A scooter looks like you're cruising down the street sitting on a toilet." So, given his caustic outlook on the scooter, how do you make a 125cc Honda Wave with a wire basket look tough? Easy. Ride that bitch solo to the Burmese border while the junta is running amok.

Kiew Pha No, that's the name of the border town I rode to the other day after renting my flashy red motorbike. It's like any rural border town where the opium and heroin trade used to flourish. You have the tired old remnants of a refugee camp and soldiers tooling around in humvees. According to most sources here in Chiang Dao, only the drug cartels can afford humvees so I more or less was weaving my way through some nefarious activities on a dirt road en route to the checkpoint. I kept my visor down and my tan is on par with the local coloring so I felt fairly safe. It's my immense size, though, that's the giveaway. Oh, and the Lonely Planet Thailand guide book in the wire basket.

The great thing about having the scooter was all of the freedom I had to explore random roads and villages. Lots of rutted dirt roads where I had to Fred Flintstone down the steeper parts. But more often than not I was rewarded with great views or a hidden Buddhist Wat that was off the map.

Yesterday, I went in search of more hilltribe villages including the Karen Longneck. Unbeknownst to me, I actually rode right by their village and down a treacherous jungle path that eventually carried me back to the main road. I ended paying a guide 500 baht today to essentially take me exactly where I went yesterday. Stupid, I know. But at least today, I got to talk to some of the villagers and take pictures.

Now it's back to Chiang Mai and possibly a side trip to Ko Samet before going to Nepal.

Leslie, tell Sammy I'm ready to make the jump fropm 125cc to 900cc. When I get home we are buying Ducati 748s.

...Wrapped in horsepower, riding into fury....

TL/4PS

Burma

Knee to the Sack

Okay, it's actually not in the nuts but square in the diaphram. It's a good way to knock the wind and spirit out of someone. That's it for me at the muay thai gym. I'm headed to Chiang Dao in the morning to stay in a hut for a few days and visit the hilltribe people. If I weren't meeting my buddy Pema in Nepal in November I'd stay in Chiang Mai and train for at least a month. It's been a great experience. Good to have some focus.

This is for my nephew James, "I Love Muay Thai Boxing!"

Muay Thai Camp

So, I'm a little bummed. I tried to send some video footage of some dudes bashing each others faces in but for some reason it didn't take. Could be that I tried to send it from my phone and it is apparently running low on memory. It would have been cool. I posted a pic instead.

Incidentals

I need to do some quick housekeeping here. First, Ajeng, thanks for the emails. The computers here act as if they are afraid of the apple.com site so it takes forever to get anything done with my mac email. Sorry for not writing back sooner.

Now, for everyone else, if you happen to find yourselves on the island of Sulawesi (Celebes) in Indonesia and you need a good driver/guide call this guy:

Robi: +62.431.330.3842

He can get you to all of Manado's neighboring hotspots in a comfortable Toyota SUV with A/C. Tell him you'll post his number on your blog and you'll get a 50 rupiah discount.

Speaking of discounts, I just screwed myself out of 100 baht and usage of a pool by switching guesthouses. I thought the one I was staying in was more expensive because I booked it through a travel agent in Bangkok but it turned out to be cheaper than the one I moved to thinking I was saving some money. Oh well, I'll probably sneak over to the pool anyway to make myself feel better about it all.

Muay Thai One On

Smile. When you are about to get your ass kicked or kick someone else's ass, your first order of business is to smile. I've been a big fan of the smile for a long time. Smiling's relaxing and confidence-building powers were more than evident when I was traveling through Europe by myself. That was the one major thing that I learned from that entire trip. You may not have had any sleep, know the language, possess the right currency, or have the foggiest idea of where you are going but if you smile and chalk it up as an adventure your fortunes begin to change.

So, I don't know why it came as a surprise to me today when I stepped into the Lanna Muay Thai Boxing Gym and was doing some drills when my trainer took it upon himself to knock me in the head and said, "Smile." Apparently, I was too tense and exhausting unnecessary energy. According to him, smiling loosens you up and let's the movements flow. You punch and kick harder and you absorb strikes better. Plus, if you get into a scrap on the street and you smile before things turn south it messes with the other guy's head and they oftentimes think twice about continuing down a violent path with you. So, for you ladies, smile when confronted but go ahead and punch them in the throat for good measure. It will keep you grinning when filing that police report.

I'm off to find some food...and ice. My right foot is swollen and my left is bruised but I'm going back to the gym tomorrow because it's one of those good kinds of pain.

Enjoy your day, everyone. Make things simple...smile.

I'm a Giant

I'm clearly averaging about 5 feet more bone and flesh than your standard Thai or Indonesian person. For me, that means lots of banging my head into undersized door frames and bus ceilings. They, the little people, get a big kick out of it until I actually throw the gorilla chest in their face and then they graciously offer such advice as "lower head, this made for us." Insert image of someone squeezing their index finger and thumb together.

More Fun with Language

I've decided since I have and will butcher every foreign language I come across, I should at least offer some advice to those who mess up good ol' mother English. Simply because people are quick to correct and laugh at me. By comparison, English is very difficult to learn and one thing I've noticed is that all ESL folk make the same mistakes. Here are my two current favorite examples of common mistakes:

To all of the gracious people who work in a foodservice industry as a server, when your entire inventory of chicken as been completely depleted due to prior distribution and consumption it's appropriate to say, "No More Chicken" or "Out of Chicken." It's not okay to say, "Chicken Finished." That just makes it sound like the chicken is washing up and going home for the evening after a long day of dishing out the slop. "That's the end of my shift, people. This big pecker has left the building."

To all of the scamming cabbies in Bangkok, when you are lying about the functionality of your meter, it's fine to simply say, "Meter No Worky" or "Meter Broke." Under no circumstance has your "Meter Had an Accident." If that were really the case, then all of the meters in all of the cabs in all of Patpong have collectively wet themselves and short-circuited. Highly doubtful.

Alright then, that's the English lesson for the day. Now it's time for me to go garble through some Thai greetings.

Big Dinner for a Little Guy

After a mad dash into the jungle with Ajeng, I was able to take this split second shot of one the world's smallest monkeys getting ready to chomp off the head of grasshopper he caught. He lept from this spot moments later making it even more difficult to get another good shot of him.

Mt. Bromo at Dawn

I took this photo after coming down from Mt. Bromo to see the sunset. Fog and dust had settled in the valley below. There were also horseback riders wearing bandanas because air was thick from nearby volcano activity. They would emerge out of the dust like ghostly bandits and ride next to our landcruiser. The pic of them is haunting and epic but there's something about this one here that illustrates the area's harsh reality.

Funny Pronunciations

"Attention all pahssingers, 'Jina Airlines is now boarding, Gate Twerve. 'Jina Airlines, Gate Twerve." Wait a minute, there's actually a vagina airlines here? Are you kidding me? Asia is awesome. Oh, China Airlines. Sorry.

"Herro radies and gentremen, wherecome to the Bangkok tampon tour." Whoa, are we on the wrong bus? I thought this was a temple tour. "Yes, today we will see rargest gorden tampon and jade buddha tampon." Okay, that was from the first time I was in Bangkok with Barrett. But we laughed like idiots and it still makes me crack up.

Flux Capacitors are Overrated

Many of you have emailed or called me with the same question: "Hey, what time is it there?" Well, the truth just might blow your mind. But the fact of the matter is, I'm in the future. Yes, 12 full hours ahead of everyone back home. Now, if you are my Dad, you've asked me ridiculous questions such as: "So, it's already Saturday there? Hmmmm, oh, who wins the OU-Texas game?" Well, you don't need to be living in the future to know the answer to that one. History is a solid indicator when it comes to that outcome.

Nevertheless, it has got me thinking about the time/space continuum and quantum physics. Especially, after jumping not just 12 hours ahead but 15 hours ahead at one point...and then back to 12. Imagine that, being so far ahead in the future that I can actually travel back in time and still be ahead of you all. There was even a time when I landed at the exact same time I took off but had been flying for one hour. Time warps are hardly as inconspicuous as one might think. They're pretty blatant around these parts. Must be a SE Asia phenomenon.

Alright, feel free to send me betting and/or lottery inquiries. I'll only charge a small commission and will expect referrals.

Ajeng...Tom

So, if you've been reading along you've seen pics and read stories about my friend Ajeng who was my host through Indonesia. Depending on who we were talking to I had the good fortune of posing as her husband/former boss/bodyguard/crazy bald guy/Mr. Kodok/stupid American friend. Not only did she plan an exciting, full-on Indonesian experience, she also gave me a card that I wanted to respond to here on the ol' blog:

First and foremost, Ajeng, as far as I'm concerned you never have to apologize on behalf of your country for any foul or offensive incidents because there were none. Yes, Hari was a bit corrupt but a lot of fun and as you know had "many good ideas, yes?!"

And yes, I believe it's time to start thinking less and feeling more. You and your family provided a ton of inspiration to get up each morning with the intent of living a full and happy life. From your grandma's boundless energy and compulsion to make me eat cow hoof (which I did) to your parents/extended families' unyielding hospitality to the amazing stories of your granddad to your Auntie's obession with me (who isn't)...my time in Indo was a turning point for me.

That's the great thing about traveling. It's life in super concentrated doses. Some days you're totally focused. Other days you're completely lost. The bonds you make with others are intense and immediate. The altercations are measurably the same. You see nature and humanity in all its glory. You see depression and depravity. There are moments of great spiritual revelation. There are moments of despair. Then there are the times when you are funny as hell. Followed by times you find yourself getting fined for being "wildly inappropriate." Some nights you sleep in 4 star hotels. Other nights you cozy up on a park bench. There are even days when you sit with Buddhist monks during afternoon prayers/chants. And days when you can't seem to find your way out of the red light district.

So, thanks Ajeng. It was an amazing time.

Same goes for my buddy Tom in Australia. Who, being the good mate that he is, took surfing lessons with me even though it could have tarnished his image as a Aussie. He also helped me break free of the domesticated shell I was in with some great runs/swims down the Penrith Olympic Whitewater Course. And of course, his friends that were always up for a drink or some rugby talk.

Good world....

Out of Indonesia

Alright, so I've made my way to Bangkok and found a 24 hour internet cafe where they boast recliners that have clearly been picked up in various alleyways behind the homes of obese gamers that burned through the armrests and blew out the seat cushions with endless hours of seemingly epic WoW battles. You geeks no what I'm talking about. How much for a dwarf priest?

I'm also here without my notes, so this update will be totally scattershot because it's 2 a.m. and I'm coming down from a very thorough massage and an insane tuk-tuk ride with a lost driver...my brain is, well, drained. But here it goes. I spent several days with Ajeng's grandmother's driver who picked me up in Surabaya and drove me to Malang to meet up with another uncle. We then drove to Mt. Bromo to catch the sunrise. Hmmmm. Now that I think about it, I wrote about that right? Too lazy to go back and reread other blog entries. Anyway, I went to Yogiakarta and visited Bodobudur and Prambanan temples. One Buddhist. The other Hindu. I had a whacked out guide named Hari who deserves his own entry, so more on his crazy ass later.

I eventually met back up with Ajeng and we flew to the island of Sulawesi just east of Borneo. We stayed in the town of Manado and hired a local boat captain to take us out to Bunaken to go snorkeling in the surrounding reefs. It was also the end of Ramadan so the nighttime celebrations were a spectacle of motorbikes and scooters and bad hip hop music on parade. The next day we visited a local market where the butchers were carving up everything from wild boars to bats to dogs. Yes, dogs. Needless to say, we skipped lunch and visited the infamous Japanese caves. They were built by Indonesian soldiers under force by Japanese invaders. The soldiers where then killed and the caves were later used by the Japanese to hide after Allied Forces landed. It's not a happy place, to say the least. However, we did venture inside where Ajeng and I heard school kids singing. But...there's no school nearby and it was in a different language than Indonesian. Oh, and I our driver who was with us didn't hear jackshit. FREAKY.

The only way to follow that up was to go to Love Hill a special monument with shrines and temples and churches for all the world's major religions. We climbed 500+ steps to reach the cross at the top. We then promptly went to an ancient cemetery where the bodies where buried in the fetal position above ground in carved stone boxes. Come to think of it, that was a bizarre day. We did finish the evening with a mad dash into the jungle to see the smallest monkeys in the world which are indeginous to Sulawesi and Borneo. So, that was cool and not so creepy. I'm sure Ajeng would disagree seeing as we had to hike out of the jungle in the pitch black with our guide stopping to show us tarantulas along the way.

Then it was back to Jakarta where I left Ajeng once again so she could go to work and I could go rafting with her entire family. Which by the way, qualifies for family of the year. They really go above and beyond to be gracious hosts. We stayed outside of this town called Sukabumi in huts along a river I need my notes to remember.

This is getting insane. I really want to share specific stories but find myself short on time and just travelogging. Please be patient...I'll get to some musings soon. I need to go to bed now. Thanks for all of the emails and for keeping up with the blog. So far I've made $11.67 off the ads. That's like 5 cases of beer here in Bangkok.

Quick Update

I actually have a lot to write about since the last update. However, I'm in some serious need of immodium and sleep so this is going to be short. I'm still in Jakarta. I moved my flight to Bangkok for tomorrow. But once there I should have the opportunity to post some pics and more stories. If anyone has tried to call me on my cell phone and left a message, I apologize for not calling you back. Not only have I switched to a local SIM card but my T-Mobile SIM won't let me dial into voicemail. The best way to reach me is by email. More soon....

Bajaj

Apparently, only God and the driver knows when he'll turn or where you'll end up. For 2000 rupiah you go where fate takes you...and you like it.

bacek

Here's a lazy ass bacek driver. Okay, so maybe he's resting. After pedaling people around in 100% humidity I might take a nap, too.

Kacek dancers

A traditional kacek dance performance at Uluwatu temple at sunset. Crazed monkeys stole the glasses off of Ajeng's uncle's face and a local boy bribed the monkey with a candy bar to hand them back. Good times with temple wildlife.

frogger

Here's a pic of Ajeng's niece and nephew. I gave them toy frog that ribbits and lights up. Kodok is frog in Indonesian. So kodok kodok was a game we played where you hide the frog and they guess which hand it was in. Mr. Kodok, that's what they ended up calling me.

Indo-in-an-instant

First off, no photos because Indonesia has no WiFi. However, where they are short on bandwith and technology they are long on culture and general traffic mayhem. I've been traveling with my friend Ajeng...for those at RMG, that's AJENG THANKYOUSOMUCH <____>. At any rate, she and her family have gone to great lengths to welcome me and show me around. After, a brief stint in Jakarta with her parents we flew to Bali where we took in a Barong & Kris Dance, visited Trunyan...a remote village cemetery along the shores of the biggest lake in Bali where bodies of the dead our laid (not buried) around a special tree that absorbs all of the odor and is actually fragrant, it's apparently the only tree of its kind in the world, 8 bodies were there lying in bamboo-styled cribs and skulls of prior departed where lined up near the tree...then we went to Basekih temple, the largest in Bali where we prayed in the main Hindu temple area with our guide. It has a number of temples to different gods including Wisnu, the god of water and overall good guy. Protector they call him.

We followed that up with a morning boogie board session at Dream Land surfing beach. Then a stop to watch the sunset at Uluwatu temple where Kecak dancers were performing.

I'm currently in Malang with one of her other uncles where we just took a ride on a giant tricycle taxi called a becak. They're banned in Jakarta. So that's cool. Then off to Mt. Bhromo tonight at 11 p.m. to start a 3 a.m. climb to the top to watch the sunrise.

I've got a lot more to write but I'm short on time. That, I've been thinking about what this blog is actually about. Musings? Or, a travelogue? I've got some musings when I have more time...so, stay tuned.

Opera House

Okay, I lied. Here's another pic from Sydney.

Essex

One last post from Australia. Harbour Bridge from the wharf after a walk down Essex St. near the Rocks.

I've decided American tourists get a far worse rap than deserved. Other folks are much more pushy and rude. Not going to name any names but it rhymes with Korea.

It's Alive

But it looks like it wants to puke. Okay, so I cheated a bit and went to Torango Zoo. There I saw all the live wildlife I'd been missing. That, and 2 elephants doing it. At $44 it was a pricey peep show.

Photos Finally

As you all can see I managed to get my cell working properly and posted more photos. The first is from aclub called Gaff. It's a huge party on Tuesday night. Coyote Tuesday they call it. It's a complete knock off but fun. Except for the European guys that would rather go gay than yield any space on the dance floor.

The other photo is a guardian gnome and his pet stuffed cow. They keep watch over this homeless guy's tarp abode in the cliff rocks along the coastal walk from Bondi to Bronte.

Thirdly, my surf day at Bondi Beach. Big waves but fairly choppy with random breaks.

Animal Noninstinct

First off, everyone type in 'Byron Bay' in the googles and then click on images. I didn't take a single photo while I was there...but I only feel marginally bad about it because I spent most of the time in the ocean getting sand and salt water in places neither really belongs. There are some good pics in the google image library that should give you a pretty good idea of what the place looks like.

Byron is the most easterly land mass point of Australia. The beach is long and expansive and usually has really good surfing. However, it's a little low right now so boogey boards were the surf toy of choice. That, and kayaks. I took a 4-hour kayak tour around the cape about a mile and a half out to sea. The water was chock full of jellyfish the size of genetically-modified portabella mushrooms. They weren't the box jelly variety but still pack a stiff punch if stung. The wind was at a minimum so that allowed us to paddle further out to catch multiple whale sightings. Three male humpback whales were breaching about 1/4 mile away from us. You could hear them spout the water through their blowholes and watch them dive back in and slam their tails on the swells. That was followed up by two dolphins swimming about 40 yards in front of us as we paddled back into the beach.

Later that afternoon I hitched a ride back to Sydney with the guys I had been bunking with and yet another Finnish girl. Those chicks get around. During the drive I realized that I had yet to see a kangaroo, a koala bear, a wombat or a native-born Australian. I mean really, who goes to Australia and doesn't see a kangaroo? It was like when I went to Pamplona and almost missed seeing a bull. Well, as good fortune would have it I did see a kangaroo in the wild. And a wombat. Unfortunately for them, both were road kill on the Pacific Highway. The kangaroo was massive though.

Still haven't seen a koala. But heard the folklore of the Drop Bears. It's a widely circulated story of koala bears dropping out of trees on to cars or other forms of transporation and then attacking people. Apparently, this was told to kids to keep them from going into the scrub at night. The true story is that when koalas die they tend to fall out of the trees they live in. And sometimes, they drop on people and passing cars. Drop Bears. Australians aren't super creative when it comes to nicknaming things. They're pretty straightforward.

Needless to say, after seeing a dead kangaroo and wombat on the side of the road we began driving with the sunroof open in hopes of catching our own Drop Bear. It just seemed destined to happen.

From the Reef to the Reefer

After some soul draining days in Surfers Paradise, a Disney-like resort town where Girls Gone Wild should have their headquarters, I've taken up shop in this cool hippie haven called Byron Bay. Far less commercial and the ocean air is mixed with some herbal essence of a curious sort. Aromatherapy they call it. Sure. Whatever. Just keep the breeze flowing...

Anyway, I'm rooming with some Jewish dudes and a naive German. The German was telling me this story of getting hired by two older guys who appeared to be "the best of friends, living the life together." They garden to club music and have their own discotheque in their home. They also, how do you say, "make good massage on me after helping them in their garden." After 9 hours of gardening and relaxing with his new friends he still had no idea they were, how do you say "making the moves on him." He thought they were just really nice, close friends showing him some genuine Aussie hospitality. Funny stuff.

Still no pics. I'll start downloading some photos from the camera when I can.

Reef Riot

So, you know those little old ladies with the blue hair that frequent cafeterias like Luby's or Queen Anne's? You definitely know the ones, they sit by themselves with their tapioca because they're old and that's what old people do. Well, I'm the no-hair blue-hair of Port Douglas tours. I've managed to meet several people to drink with but because they are poor hostel goers who work random jobs in town so they can pay for a plane ticket to yet another destination and random job opportunity, it's like pulling teeth to get them to cough up a hundred bones to go snorkeling or kayaking. I, on the other hand, receive investment portfolio updates on my cellphone from my good friend Charles over at Wachovia Securities. So, I go alone.

As the picture illustrates, I look like an idiot in snorkel gear but that wrasse is pretty cool. I also came across a reef shark, sea turtle, and some nice girls from Boston here for Uni...I hate that word by the way, mate. Of course, they are staying in Cairns so it's back to the hostel to hunt down my new Finnish friend for a cheap dinner.

Panic Correction

Okay, for people like Mr. Jones and Nate who questioned the level of panic stated in the last post, let me just put on record that I'd never paddled a surfboard or swam in a full-on ocean rip before with 7 ft. waves so there was a bit of anxiety in tow. But no, I didn't need to be assisted back to shore. I paddled out of the rip and back into a nice wave that brought me back. So, suck it.

Headed back out to the ocean today for some sea kayaking near Cape Tribulation. It's near Mount Sorrow and Misery Cove. All which were named by Captain Cook. Apparently, his divorce was less amicable. Not a very happy man, to say the least. The emerald green swells along the reef were pretty amazing and filled with sea turtles. I also managed to hike through the Daintree Rainforest, considered to be the oldest rainforest in the world and home to one, if not a couple, of the original 19 flowering trees. After a dip in a non-crocodile infested stream, I hopped on a motorboat and cruised down the Daintree River looking for crocodiles and snakes. A 3 meter croc surfaced just beyond the bow of the boat and then disappeared.

Anyway, I've been bunking with some nice young ladies from Canada and Finland...right up your alley, Pat. The Finnish girl's level of geographic knowledge is on par with a 7th grader from Arkansas which is to say America is something she only thought existed in movies. The concept of an "Oklahoma" blew her mind. She does use the "f" word every third word so she's totally cool in my book.

No picture today. Still dealing with technical difficulties.

Technology and Such

So, I had these grand visions of keeping this site marginally updated from my cell phone but that's but a pipe dream with the wifi internet connections here in Australia. I do have some great pics of the surf at Bondi Beach where I managed to actually get up on the board a couple of times and then promptly panicked when we went for a paddle to catch bigger waves along the rip on the northside of the beach.

As soon as I can manage to get my phone and random wifi connections to play nice then I'll upload some more pics. If you happen to have a map handy...I'm outside of Cairns in Port Douglas. I've got a snorkeling and sailing trip out to the Great Barrier Reef on tap for tomorrow. Today, I'm wasting away on the internet at this hostel waiting for the clouds to clear to head to the beach.

I had every intention of learning how to surf today at Bondi Beach but it was 20 ways to freezing and the sky was pissing mad rain so I went to the harbour and snapped a pic of the Opera House looking all sinister. Spooky.

Rules of the Road

Don't talk to strange hot chicks without protection.

Actually the list is longer and much more elaborate if you consult my parents but this is generally a good one to live by as well. Now, as much as I'd like to go into the litany of "rules" that all those caring folk in my life have heaped on me, google doesn't have the bandwith or memory to hold such a compodium of insanity and unfun.

Talking to strangers is fun. Hitchhiking is fun. Drinking the local depressant is fun. Sleeping on random park benches is fun. Bartering or haggling for goods and services, both legal and illegal, is fun. Hopping on buses for points unknown is fun. Getting dysentery...not so much fun.

At any rate, I've been having some fun.

Random

I can't think for the life of me how this pic got posted. But given the fact that Stuckeys is an American icon for the happy traveler it makes some sense. Pecan log anyone?

Packing

So, how does one plan and pack for an around the world trip? First, find yourself single again...living with your parents. That's always a good start. Don't get me wrong, wearing your high school letter jacket and polishing your old trophies can be somewhat therapeutic...if you're a serial killer. For the rest of us, it's a transitional staging area with a number of benefits. Namely, the free food and laundry services. They go a long way in helping you hone your mooching skills which are essential when traveling on a budget. Now, when it comes to packing you want to infuriate your mom by trashing a completely innocent room with random paraphernalia ranging from rain gear and hiking boots to wicking underwear that you can wear for up to a week without washing. No joke, they really hold up. Never thought I'd pay $30 for a single pair of underwear but let me tell you, they're pretty damn special. They also lift and separate. The ladies know what I'm talking about.

To be totally honest, I was a little overambitious in trying to pack lightly. The hang-up coming in the form of winter gear for the Himalayas and all the gadgetry I can't live without. So what started out as a midget-sized backpack and a small sling back has turned into the same midget-sized backpack complete with vacuum compression sacks and the sling back is nesting inside a larger sling back. Not exactly what I was envisioning but then again I suppose trying to travel for 7 months out of a plastic bag from the grocery store has its limitations.