The equatorial breeze and Dutch colonial flavor forced me to remind myself I was still in Sri Lanka. Long ago, Galle’s fortress held back invaders, now it serves to attenuate the creep of modern development. The walls encompass the peninsula’s bulk, so patrolling the ramparts means tracing the coastline. When I wasn’t monitoring the ocean horizon, I was inspecting the lighthouse from a rooftop café or rambling the streets for postcard-esque photo opportunities. I’ll admit it, Galle charmed my pants off (figuratively). Why, exactly? I posit three essential elements: Set and setting (i.e. colonial backdrop), a dearth of tourists, and Ramadan. I credit low per capita tourist density to the recently concluded hostilities (i.e. the civil war hangover effect)…
Read More1858 - French colonial rule begins.
1930 - Ho Chi Minh founds the Indochinese Communist Party (ICP).
1941 - ICP organises a guerrilla force, Viet Minh, in response to invasion by Japan during World War II.
1945 - The Viet Minh seizes power. Ho Chi Minh announces Vietnam's independence.
1946 - French forces attack Viet Minh in Haiphong in November, sparking the war of resistance against the colonial power.
1950 - Democratic Republic of Vietnam is recognised by China and USSR.
1954 - Viet Minh forces attack an isolated French military outpost in the town of Dien Bien Phu. The attempt to take the outpost lasts two months, during which time…
Read MoreA woman at a local market shooed me away as I ogled a bowl of live eels. Pardon me, ma’am, not something I see every day. Forgive my curious nature. I’ll fuck off now, thank you. Then again, where did curiosity get that cat? I saw another woman with a headless turtle squeezing blood from the neck into a plastic bottle. Nummy. And then there were the live puppies I heard barking incessantly. (Not a pet market. Nuff said.) Perhaps, they’ve dealt with their share of judgmental Westerners and have had enough. Also, maybe I just look like an asshole.
Disgruntled shoe dude was mildly upsetting, but the rest I laughed off with ease… mostly. I found the quirkiness endearing… for a while. I’d experience this before and assumed it would dissipate…
Read MoreThe language barrier hurted my head hard. I phoned Mr. Hung (rental agency) in Hanoi for backup and passed the phone for translation. Yep, we needed a guide—a fail-safe in case we became sick or injured. Fair enough. My cynical nature led me to believe this was a convenient way to drum up tourist business, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. We retreated to discuss options. What choice did we have? None. We returned to immigration and five minutes later a Mr. Hai presented himself. We followed him to his office and made it official. The staff there was friendlier but not overwhelmingly so. While waiting for our permits we had breakfast in the small restaurant in the back. More Vietnamese tar and meat (described as veal) that was mostly fat and skin. Yumsters…
Read MoreThe map was wrong. Really wrong. Dead wrong, as in “make-believe roads” wrong. This was hard to accept. What are the chances? How could this be? Well, it was. We wasted two hours reconciling impossible circumstances. According to the map, we couldn’t possibly be in the town we were in. We turned to the proletariat. Inquiries/borderline interrogations followed. We were ignored, brushed off, or given more baffling information. How many ways can you pronounce 'Ba Be'? Answer: 1,946. Did a note (courtesy of Mr. Hai,) with “How do you get to Ba Be Lake?” written in Vietnamese help? No, no it did not.
We drove through Bao Lam twice in search of glory. No luck. We capitulated, opting for the long way…
Read MorePackage tours don’t tickle my fancy but became a necessary evil given time constraints. So, it was a tour bus to Ha Lang followed by a two-night junk run in Ha Long Bay capped off by three days of leisure on Cat Ba Island. The bus was, well, odd. Our tour guide had a microphone and a powerful desire to share interesting factoids about Hanoi and Vietnam. Context, history, and background? I’m in. Thing is, dude’s voice was unbelievably irritating (something akin to raking stones inside your head.) Perfect for Zen-master training, not ideal on a “relaxing” ride. I wasn’t above offering a cash payment to cease and desist.
He shared depressing tidbits regarding thousands of children…
Read MoreVietnam was our carpe diem. Feet first. Eyes open. Take a chance. Have a fling. Threw our hats in the ring. Lewis Carroll said it best, “In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make. There comes a time in your life when you realize who matters, who doesn’t, who never did and who always will. So don’t worry about the people in your past, there’s a reason they didn’t make it to your future.”
All did not go as hoped. First off, time wasn’t on our side. I felt pressure (self-induced) to organize the perfect getaway for my Irish lass. No doubt this compromised my laid-back disposition. My pre-reunion Hanoian social exchanges…
Read More1768 - Gurkha ruler Prithvi Narayan Shah conquers Kathmandu and lays foundations for unified kingdom.
1792 - Nepalese expansion halted by defeat at hands of Chinese in Tibet.
1814-16 - Anglo-Nepalese War; culminates in treaty which establishes Nepal's current boundaries.
1846 - Nepal falls under sway of hereditary chief ministers known as Ranas, who dominate the monarchy and cut off country from outside world.
1923 - Treaty with Britain affirms Nepal's sovereignty.
Absolute monarchy
1950 - Anti-Rana forces based in India form alliance with monarch.
Read MoreUpon arrival, two things became abundantly clear: I was going to like it there; I would probably go bankrupt. What happens when two planes of Gore-Tex toting tourists disembark simultaneously? You wait two hours for a visa. This did not dampen my fervor. That was impossible. Namaste and all that shit, ya know? Though I was itching to get the party started, I tempered my enthusiasm in the interest of prudence. Rest, relaxation, investigation, and invigoration. So, I took a few personal days.
Kathmandu is barely controlled chaos in a sprawling cityscape of brick and concrete multi-storied buildings rising and falling like an ill-conceived Lego megalopolis. Not so pretty to look at and air pollution doesn’t quite gel with the Himalayan flavor…
Read MoreI met Gopal (my guide) in the morning. We hopped in a car from Kathmandu to the trailhead in Sundarijal and set out for the day’s goal—Chisapani. At a reasonable pace, you can reach it in a few hours or less. We took over half a day. Gopal was an amiable, laid-back fella with serious motivation issues, a “stop and smell the roses” type. And by “smell the roses,” I mean “smoke the pot.” A lot of pot. He was unpleasantly surprised to discover I was more interested in the journey than a slo-mo marijuana-infused jaunt. Previous hikers set a precedent. He assumed a young-ish American would be on board. His disappointment was palpable. Lunch was a two-hour affair cooked from scratch. Slow season? Dunno, but the holdup was borderline excruciating. I was ready to forge ahead solo…
Read MoreDay One was an easy float to our first campsite, Night One an inauspicious drunk fest fueled by not-so-premium liquor. Darkness fell. Mayhem ensued. I had zero wish to start hungover, so I forbore after a few drinks, retiring to the sand for a snooze beneath a spectacular night sky peppered with stars, painted by the Milky Way. The outfit provided tents, but I slept al fresco. Initially, I had company, but Ashrak the kayaker coaxed Kirstin to his tent. Ah, well, all’s fair in love and war on the waterfront. No smoochie-grabass por moi.
The events following my dismissal were the subject of vigorous debate. No one had all the pieces. The Brothers England and Sonkor deemed shit-faced skinny dipping a worthy pursuit…
Read MoreArmid took us to his favorite hangout, a distinctly male vibe. Local women work in such places (waitstaff and performers) but cultural norms discourage similar cavorting. Instead of stock music stored on a computer with a TV for follow along, it was a staff of musicians and singers operating synthesized instruments and providing vocals. Fill out a slip. Wait your turn. Participants come prepared, memorizing words and beats beforehand. (This feeds my single-track theory.)
You haven’t lived until you’ve spent a night watching sloshed Nepali males sing and dance their hearts out. It was an ebb and flow of energy ending only between songs, long songs…
Read MoreWrestling (or is it steering?) was an issue. I couldn’t do it. It pulled to one side. It had a bit of a pulling problem. Rotate pedals. Sheer left… hard. Struggle. Swear. Repeat. One rotation sent me to the curb where I narrowly missed knocking over a parked motorcycle. Nepali word for “douchebag,” anyone? Steering was hard. Breaking was harder. I couldn’t do that either. People stared. Horns honked. Heart pounded. My co-pilot kept a palm on the handlebars and one on the break, forestalling tragedy.
After too much adrenaline and too many close calls, I relented. My respect for the craft ballooned exponentially. I took my rightful place in the rear… for about twenty seconds. My struggle ended where his began—at a slight incline…
Read MoreThe region didn’t open to tourism until 1992. Access doesn’t come cheap and there’s an annual quota of a thousand visitors. A permit runs $500 a person but requires at least two per permit. Otherwise, it’s a cool grand for solo endeavors. (Sadly, locals see little of this money.) This explains my dawdling in Thamel an extra week. I was waiting for an elder German couple to arrive for a permit ménage à trois. No one gave them a heads up on the third-wheel scenario. Hansel and Gretel were none too pleased Team America would be joining their love adventure.
Was I willing to drop a $1000? Rationally, no, but I was light years from rational. The seed had been planted. No way to reign in my giddiness…
Read MoreI remember skies so goddamn blue, it’s like an amateur filmmaker went hog-wild with the color grading, though I suspect altitude plus landscape-contrast heightened the effect. Without the dynamic range of the human eye, no camera could do it justice. I was in awe and, looking back, compare it to a psilocybin flashback. I wanted to stare into the firmament until going blind, appreciate the shit out of everything without letting it slip through my fingers… but it always does.
Imagine a northern Arizona Grand Canyon-ish scenario, throw in a Himalayan backdrop, add the crisp coolness of an upstate New York autumn, sprinkle in sporadic donkey bells…
Read MoreCompanions are good. We should have them. I left for Indonesia solo and remained so, more or less, for most of the sojourn. Until Mustang, I’d had travel chums a few days here, a week there with a romantic interlude thrown in for good measure. Maybe what I needed on the sun-drenched dusty Tibetan plateau wasn’t a companion, but the right companion. (If nothing else, a partner would’ve offset the organizational burden.) I wonder if we need witnesses along the way to validate life’s beauty, its overarching magnificence. Maybe we need a notary to consecrate our internal musings and jubilations in the face of natural incomprehensibility. Or should we hog a discrete portion for ourselves?…
Read MoreNothing like horsey-pretend time and a spelunking diversion to build an appetite for body and soul. As luck would have it, lunch in a nearby village would nourish both. I dined in what I believe was a private residence and served a repast in the host’s prayer room, a mini-monastery. Not long after we arrived, an elderly gentleman entered and sat cross-legged on a padded bench. A young male I presumed to be his grandson informed us it was prayer day. He apologized for the interruption and offered to relocate us to another room. I did what you might expect, I told them to get the fuck out posthaste. Well, no. Apologize for engaging in sacred acts in one’s own home? Seriously?…
Read MoreNine days without a wash left me marinating in my own juice. And then there was Ghami village—the promised land. When I learned gas-powered hot water was available at the guesthouse, I considered smooching the women in charge. Sublime. That’s how I’d describe my shower experience. I nearly dissolved.
On day nine, I confronted Mustang’s version of a traffic jam. Herds of sheep, pack horses, and seasonal migrants hindered progress on a narrow stretch of uphill climb. Speed wasn’t the issue, it was the clouds of dust that left those in its wake subject to mild asphyxiation. And the incessant whistling and grunting of shepherds can needle one psychologically after about hour three…
Read MoreAccording to Miss Manners, visiting random strangers in lockup without bearing gifts is bullshit. We went with old faithful—Marlboro Reds. At check-in, all are required to surrender cameras, cell phones, and just about everything else. Then, it’s a quick pat-down followed by a short stroll to a room containing a list of foreign inmates. Malaysia, China, Holland, France, Germany, Poland, and America made the cut. Offenses included fraud, murder, rape, immigration violations (passport, visa, etc.), and drug possession. Pick name. Start party.
Yes, the situation was downright surreal. Inmates as a tourist attraction? There’s a lot wrong there. Was I ambivalent? You bet your ass I was…
Read MoreBad press is better than no press? Don’t think so. Slaughtering a couple hundred thousand animals in the name of religion is going to turn a few heads, along with more than a few stomachs.
I’ve read the numbers dropped drastically in 2014, but, again, sources are questionable at best. Organizers insisted only about 5,000 animals were sacrificed. Humane Society International (HSI) reported 30,000. BBC reported over 200,000. In 2015, Motilal Prasad (secretary of the Gadhimai Temple Trust) touted an indefinite ban on animal sacrifice. Ram Chandra Shah (temple chairman) said no such agreement had been made…
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