And behind our ears. And in our sheets, bags, and books. Pretty much everywhere.

We're killing a couple of weeks here on Ko Samet before my class starts, enjoying the white sand beaches, warm waves, and mountains of yummy calamari. Eat, swim, frisbee, nap, eat, read, nap, swim, eat, cards, sleep, repeat. Not much else to report, but having a lovely time. :-)

Labels: Koh Samet, Thailand

NEW PHOTOS: Before I begin, please notice that we have finally added some photos to the "recent photo albums" in the left column.

It was fantastic to be back up north. ..not just basking in the mountain landscape (cooler temps, fresh air, oh and big peaks), but more importantly, to be back immersed in a community and realize we truly made some great relationships in the Kullu Valley. Travelling on the tourist track the last month or so, we were uplifted to come back to genuine friends. Their hospitality, and direct spoiling of Momma K, was quite rewarding to Em and I. The spoiling began in Delhi when Khem took us all out to a 5-star restaurant at the La Meridian hotel. Then upon arriving in Manali, we got the special treatment from Peter and his family in the Om Tara Guest House. In addition to good food and fresh mango shakes, their friendliness and pride in making us feel comfortable was greatly appreciated.

After our 4-day tour through Spitti Valley, we returned to our winter home, The Iceland Hotel, in Solang. It was great to see the crew and Ludar welcomed us demanding that my mother stay in the suite (upon Khem's orders). Unfortunately, Khem was out leading a trekking group so we missed seeing him. The suite was quite different from the sleeping situations my mom had adapted to the last couple weeks. The three of us were normally sharing one room which usually consisted of a couple twin beds pushed together. So, it was either the three of us on one double bed or (if the room had enough floor space) we requested another twin mattress. The suite at The Iceland Hotel consists of two rooms each wtih a double bed. In addition to this comfort, the suite boasts glass windows featuring a 270 degree view of mountain beauty. Unfortunately, my mom was only able to catch a couple quick glimpses of the nearby peaks as the weather was gray and damp for most of our two days in Solang. Upon checking out, Ludar informed us that our visit (rooms plus food and many teas) was complimentary. Then while waiting for our bus from Manali, Anand delivers a gift wrapped Kullu shawl to my mom. Em and I kind of stood there in disbelief (or jealousy) as my mom just met Anand earlier that day and only for a few minutes. It goes to show how valued one's mother is in India. Just before boarding the bus, Peter and his daughter Neha, blessed us with prayer scarves for our journey. Knowing I could get emotional, I rather focussed on the future knowing that we will see these wonderful people again.

Thanks to all our friends who contributed to the spoiling and making us feel so appreciated.

O.K., I guess we also experienced some amazing things last week.

Manali:
We did an "acclimitization" hike up Lambaduk with Peter. When it began to rain, we decided it was a good time to sit underneath a tree where Peter boiled noodles over an open fire for our lunch. Later that evening we rooted Peter on during a local carrom tournament. Carrom is an old board game where you try to sink your pieces into pockets by flicking a striker piece. It is kind of a combination of pool and marbles played on a square table and quite popular throughout India. Like most competetive games, it attracts a lot of crap talking and we were quite entertained watching the local Tibetans ridicule each other and then immediately miss an easy shot due to the tournament pressure. Skoog, Kophs, and Dylan, we may be making a board for the next Safari.

Spitti Valley:
WOW. I have been on some beautiful mountain landscape roadways before, but this one truly takes the cake. We left the Kullu Valley on a beautiful blue-skied morning and were able to boast some local ridgelines and peaks we had skied to my mother. I was aglow just to be back in the high country and the mountains seemed more impressive than both Em and I remembered. I joked with Peter that "it was so great to be back in the mountains as I think I experienced 'low elevation sickness' the last couple months." Peter has a great story about when he visited the coast and swears he had "low elevation sickness."

Driving over Rohtang Pass into Lahaul, we were officially leaving the "habitable world" of lush vegetation and entering the land of alpine. The landscape was full of waterfalls cascading down thousdands of feet of steep hillside, granite ridgelines, and huge glaciated mountain tops. We stopped for tea in Chhatru and then lunch in Batal. Each little dhaba (cafe) consisted of stone walls with indoor seating on stone benches and tables made of guess what, ya, stones. Quite a rocky place. Sure enough, Peter knew the owners of both as they spend their winters in Manali.

We then continued on the windy gravel road and ascended to Kunzum La, the pass that seperates the Lahaul and Spitti Valleys. Feeling a little spacey just sitting in the jeep as we ascended, I was eyeing my altimeter as we were approaching the highest elevation in the continental US. We reached Kunzum La at just under 15,000 feet and I informed my mom we were standing higher than the summit of Mt. Rainier or any point in the lower 48 (and we drove to it)! Kunzum La is blessed with a fantastic stupa (Buddhist monument) and many rows of prayer flags.

From this high pass, we descended into Spitti Valley where the landscape changed to huge valleys predominantly made up of glacial till. It was a crazy contrast to see glaciated granite peaks just behind wind eroded ridgelines of glacial till. It was as though we were driving in southwest Utah with Switzerland just beyond the front range.

The next few days included old, high monastery after old, high monastery, walks to high alpine lakes, and visiting Peter's friends for tea. The Spitti Valley was once part of Tibet and the language and culture are very similar. The region was along the old silk route that travelled from the Mid-East into China and was habitable to only the nomadic type. Still isolated for about eight months a year due to snowed-in mountain passes, the people calling Spitti Valley home today are considered nomadic by contemporary standards.

On our drive back, we did a side trip to Chandra Tal, a beautiful lake at 13,500 feet in Lahaul. We drank tea from some shepards who take their flocks of sheep hundreds of kilometers to this area as the local grass seed is superior. On our way down from the lake, and in the middle of nowhere, we had a great surprise. Bouncing towards us on a motorbike with his sunglasses bouncing off his chin and his long wavy hair rigid from dust, came our friend Chala. Chala is the social badboy from the group of local snowboarders we hung out with last winter. Shortly after came Peter, another snowrider from Burruwa village. It was great to see them again and especially in such a remote location.

Solang:
After a heinous descent through thick fog, we were dropped off at the Iceland Hotel in Solang. Following some happy "Namastes" and "Op kaisse hais" to the Iceland crew, we resorted to our winter norm of warm showers and hot tea. Staying consistent with the winter luxuries of the Iceland, we played some Citizen Cope and Bob Marley (thanks Robo) on their stereo and logged online while we were the only ones in the dining/community room. Some cards and a movie (thanks HBO) followed. While the weather never got nice, it was dry enough for me to show my mom around. First we walked up to the ski hill where all the winter craziness happens (beginner rope tow, yaks, tubing runs, tea stalls, fur coated newlyweds in sleighs, first time skiers in the tuck position even though they are on the flats and not moving). Then we headed down a streamside trail towards the village of Burruwa. With the rain beginning, we headed back to the warm comforts of the Iceland.

We are now in Delhi, Momma K flew home last night after a most wonderful visit, and we are flying to Thailand tomorrow morning!

Dhanyavad India, & Namaste.

Labels: India

It's not really that we're overdue for a post, more that we've done so much this week that we feel behind. And more pictures are coming, we promise!

Em & Pat's Embassy Adventure

To back up a little from Trev's last post, Pat and I had had officially my busiest (and most productive) day in Delhi so far. Trevor wasn't feeling so good, and with temps hovering around 100, with 80% + humidity, we left him home in the AC. The original visa-fixing plan was to head for Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple (the Sikh faith's Holy of Holies), then hop over the Pakistan border to Lahore, Delhi's sister city during the Mughal empire and home to more fantastic monuments. This would require a visa. We hopped an auto-rickshaw to the Pakistani Embassy bright and early (and already sticky), to find that they don't even let you inside the compound to apply. They have windows opening out onto the sidewalk, and we felt like cattle as we got into the appropriate line, narrowly confined by metal railing on either side. When it was our turn, he handed our applications right back, saying we needed a "letter of introduction" from our embassy. O.K.

Another short rickshaw ride away, and we were in the fast-lane at the US Embassy. The "Citizen Services" lane made us feel like VIPs zipping past all of the US visa seekers, and provided a bit of vindication after our long waits of the day before. It was still the 4th of July on American soil, and Ray Charles was singing America the Beautiful over the outdoor speakers, leaving me with a little bit of a lump in my throat. The helpful man at the counter gave us our letters right away, then asked us in his best David Spade voice, "Can I ask why you folks want to go to Pakistan?" before hitting us with the US State Department's info sheet advising against all travel there. O.K.... we just want to go to Lahore. Nobody's causing any trouble there. As I was calling Trevor on the courtesy phone, Pat read the sheet and decided to take Uncle Sam's warning to heart. Fair enough. There was also courtesy internet (God bless the US of A!) and we did some quick searching on Kathmandu tickets. We couldn't buy the cheap ones online, so off to the Royal Nepal Airways office. After paying another auto driver, and taking a minor detour through Janpath Market, where we bought Pat a very cute skirt, we arrive at the "Nepal Airlines" office, with the Royal adamantly covered up and crossed out (they recently stripped their corrupt king of his powers, and take the removal of "royal" from everything very seriously). Tickets in hand, we hopped another auto to the train station and bought tickets to Agra for the next day, as well as to Haridwar (post-Nepal). Then we went to Pahar Ganj and made some hotel reservations, before finally zipping home in yet another auto-rickshaw, triumphant but on the verge of heat-stroke. Pat, not surprisingly, took all of this in stride, and dealt with the heat much better than I.

Agra: India's Worst City With the World's Most Beautiful Building

After departing an hour late, our early morning express train to Agra was a treat. Bottled water, morning paper, full tea service, and breakfast all came in rapid succession. Our arrival in the city was less auspicious. Leaving the station we were mobbed by touts and rickshaw drivers, and actually penned in by a few of them. Trying to get away, my skirt caught on one of the autos and was totally ruined by oil. Not a great start.

Trying to get into Agra Fort was almost as much of a trial, with swarms of vendors shoving postcards, marble boxes, wooden elephants, and assorted necklaces and bracelets under our noses, completely undeterred by our more-than-slightly hostile responses. Inside we were hit with a fairly large entrance fee, and were still suspicious and rattled when the first of the government-approved guides offered his services. After some quick discussion, we decided we did want one, and finding Singh marked a definite improvement in our day. Eighty years old, with very few teeth, Singh assured us he'd been giving tours of the fort for 55 years, and sported a vest with "Save Heritage" embroidered in slightly crooked letters on the back. He showed us all kinds of nifty things, like the floor in part of the palace where the king and queen played Indian chess with female servants. Pat and I were really impressed with the way he painted a picture of what it would have looked like while occupied, describing the lavish furnishings and what the goings-on would have been in different areas. He also threw in enough structural trivia (cooling systems built into the wall, and ingenious water systems) to make engineer-Trevor happy.

The Taj Mahal... words don't really cover it. We got incredibly lucky with the weather, as it cleared up late enough so we stayed fairly cool, but had incredible light for our 4 o'clock arrival. The changing light on the white marble is every bit as fantastic as reputed, and we stayed until almost 7:30, after a spectacular sunset, completely happy to watch the light change on all of its
magnificent faces.

Kathmandu: One Valley, 7 UNESCO World Heritage Sites

At the airport, Trevor and I were more than a little relieved to get that exit stamp next to our Indian visas. (Formerly Royal) Nepal Airways served up a yummy rice and dal meal, which was a happy surprise on a flight that wasn't even two hours, even with the 15 minutes we lost switching to Nepalese time. We made it to our hotel without much incident in a dilapidated orange muscle car the pre-paid taxi booth arranged for us.

After breakfast at the Himalatte Cafe (they lived up to their name - great coffee!) we headed for Swayambhunath (aka the "Monkey Temple", due to an amazing number of monkeys, many of the younger ones having a blast swinging from the prayer flags). After climbing the 365 steps, we were a bit in awe of our 2nd UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2 days (the Taj, of course, makes the list). A large central stupa, topped with a golden spire and striking eyes painted on each side, was surrounded by an assortment of Buddhist and Hindu shrines, and liberally strewn with prayer flags. The site figures prominently in the mythology and history of the valley, and was an important Buddhist pilgrimage site from at least the 5th century AD, with animist roots probably stretching much further back. We caught a bit of the monks' afternoon chanting, before descending back down the stairs. Wandering back into the heart of old Kathmandu, we arrived in Durbar ("palace") Square as sunset was approaching. We spotted a rooftop restaurant, and had some yummy snacks (I tried some wild boar - would have been good thin-sliced bacon, but a little chewy) and local "Gorka" beer while gazing at the many rooftops of ancient pogoda-style temples. The pagoda (according to our guidebook) was actually developed and perfected in Nepal before being brought to China, and the intricately carved examples in Kathmandu's Durbar Square are impressive enough to qualify them as another UNESCO site.

The next day we took a bus to Baktapur, a beautiful town that's done a great job of preserving its traditional architecture and monuments. We were treated to more gorgeous pagoda temples, another well-located rooftop restaurant, and an interesting walk through Potter's Square. The potters in Baktapur still use traditional hand wheels, and dry their creations in the middle of the square, and the older gentleman in charge of feeding the massive burning mounds of straw to fire the pots was happy to show us how it was done. I even snuck in a tour of a thangka (Buddhist devotional painting) workshop/school, where a number of my questions about the intricate paintings were cleared up. Although we were slightly disappointed by the shrine to the "Great God of the Resplendent Phallus", everything else in Baktapur was very impressive. We went home happy but tired after hitting 4 World Heritage Sites in 3 days. Trevor and Pat later rallied to watch the nail-biter of a World Cup final in an Irish pub while I went down for the count, probably with the same bug Trevor had in Delhi.

Haridwar & Our Brush With Celebrity (Our Own)

We were a bit nervous arriving in Haridwar, after being warned of aggressive touts, but after Agra it was a friendly cakewalk. We made the enlightened decision to spend an extra couple hundred rupees for a place that boasted traditional hut-style accommodations (actually really comfy) around an immaculately kept garden, and its own private ghat on the Ganges. That's right, our own quiet, peaceful chunk of the holy river. We went down to action-central - Hari-ki-Pairi - the main bathing ghat, which boasts a stone with the footprint of Vishnu. This was supposed to be the most impressive spot to watch the Ganga Aarti ceremony, where every night at 7, devotees release floating lamps into the river. It turns out we had arrived at the kickoff of a 10-day festival, and the city and ghats were crawling with pilgrims, many carrying elaborately decorated frames over their shoulders, a container of Ganga water on each side balancing it out, that they would be carrying all the way home to their temples. Bright orange t-shirts (the holy color of Hinduism) emblazoned with images of Shiva and Vishnu were everywhere. Groups of young men in matching t-shirts, shorts, and orange sailor caps gave me bizarre flashbacks to my highschool trip to Atlanta for the Lutheran Youth Organization rally. Is there such thing as the HYO? Men and boys were jumping off bridges and stairs into the fast-flowing river, getting a pretty wild ride before swimming madly for the edges of the ghats, where chains extended out from the stairs. Any worries we had about how our presence there would be received were fairly quickly put to rest, as it soon became apparent we were just part of the attraction. We're guessing a lot of these pilgrims might never have seen a foreigner before, and there were surprisingly few of us floating around. Again and again (and again...) we were asked for "just one picture" which then turned into a waiting line as orange-clad pilgrim after pilgrim put an arm around one or all three of us while his friend snapped a photo. Babies were shoved into our arms, and everyone wanted to shake our hands. We decided it was a small taste of what celebrity life must be like, and we definitely got more than a little tired of our devotional paparazzi. By the time the ceremony started, my face hurt from smiling. The Ganga Aarti itself was beautiful. The lights reflecting on the river, and the obvious emotion of the devotees, some of whom were making the trip of a lifetime to come to the holy river, combined for a moving experience. Afterward, we hightailed it back to the hotel to avoid our adoring public. Trevor took Ashok, the in-house ayurvedic masseuse, up on his offer. Pat and I were kicked out of the room, after a short introductory lecture where he explained which exercises we should all be doing every morning to keep our veins "bubbling". Interesting.

Next morning, we had scheduled an early morning puja (prayer) on the river. The hotel brought us a panda (priest) who conducted a truly beautiful ceremony, where we offered food and flowers to the river, prayed for removal of obstacles and fruitful efforts (technically to Ganesha and Lakshmi, but those are their specialties), had lucky string tied around our wriests, and were liberally sprinkled with holy Ganga water (which is actually not so bad at Haridwar - it's milky gray looking, exactly as a glacial river should be). Afterward, Pat scored her own massage (though through the clothes, and with us in the room, as per Ashok's request). We wandered through the bazarre, and took the tram up to the hill-top temple for a lovely panorama view of the valley and the meandering Ganges. Then we had to scoot for our 7pm bus... which turned out to be a local bus. Read: non-reclining seats, five people (3X2) per row on bench seats and extreme overnight discomfort. 17 hours later, we were finally deposited in Manali. Truly heinous bus experience.

Back in Manali!

At the moment we're sooooo happy to be back at Peter's place. The guestroom is cozy, the food wonderful, and a more welcoming bunch than the Dorjees would be hard to find. Hooray to be back in Manali!

Labels: Delhi, India

Part of adventure travel is dealing with the unexpected and most travelers enjoy the successes of handling such impedances. Not when the impedances affect one’s mother. Fortunately, my mother is more of a rock star traveler than I could have hoped for.

It starts with a miscommunication of what day she arrives. The miscommunication part is a long story not worth all the ink, but the realization is quite worthwhile. I had called her just before our train left the Bangalore station and with a horrible phone connection, did catch that she was leaving at 11:36. I had always thought she was leaving Saturday night and the only part of her itinerary I really looked at was her arrival which stated, “Monday, July 2nd @8:30 p.m.” This was part of the “miscommunication” as Monday is July 3rd. I am on the train to Delhi and start doing some math in my head as to her flight path. Hmm…seems like an awful long layover in Chicago? I sleep on it and awake the next day pretty confident she is arriving before we had planned. From my numbers, if she left Seattle at 11:36 p.m., she arrives at 8:30 a.m. July 3rd. If she left Seattle at 11:36 a.m., she arrives at 8:30 p.m. July 2nd. Either times are before our train gets to Delhi. Not good. Because she is expecting us to be at the airport, we did not go through any of the required warnings a foreigner needs before meeting Delhi head on. Not good. Well, I needed to make some phone calls. This is not easy as our train seldom stopped and efficiently wouldn’t stop for long (usually 2-3 minutes).

Em and I came up with our game plan…which included the contingency of me missing the train and seeing them in Delhi a day later. Confident that my Hinglish conversation with a train attendant informed me that our next stop was a long one, about 10-15 minutes, I went for it. Leeping from the train as it rolled to a stop, I ran the required few hundred meters to the public phone. Sure enough, a huge line around the two outdoor phones. Waiting, eyeing the guys on the phones, eyeing the train, eyeing the phones, etc.., I finally picked up the receiver. This first call was the one I was least looking forward to: calling Papa at 3:45 a.m. his time to try to quickly get the time she left Sea-Tac from him while softly stating that there may have been a miscommunication. Lucky for me, he was quite reasonable (or just real sleepy) and even mentioned, “ya, there was something weird about the day she gets in.” Verifying that she left Sea-Tac late morning verified that my mom was destined to land in Delhi that Sunday evening in the dark with nobody there to meet her, no hotel reservation, and no help as to what to do. Not good. With the phones a fairly aggressive catfight and the phone operator continuously urging the users to hurry up, once I put the receiver down somebody grabbed it. Without any love from anybody, I was at the back of the line after paying for the first call. This next call was the remedy and I found myself doing the eye bob between phone and train way too frequently. Fortunately, my second call was all I had to make as our hotel had an opening for that evening and would provide an airport pick-up for her.

She was not expecting a stranger holding a sign with her name on it so it took them a little while to connect, but it all worked out. She was quite proud of herself, as she should be, for making it happen.

It doesn't get any more respectable for the vagabond son. I will keep this shorter and less painful (for the reader and mainly me). After being told false information from immigration upon arriving in India and getting the run around from various Foreigners Regional Offices, we learned a couple days ago that Em and I need to leave the country before our six month mark which comes in less than a week! Ya, how cool..."Welcome to India Mom, we're leaving!" Fortunately, she continues to impress me with her free spirited, "that sounds like fun" attitude. With some heavy weight from her vote, we decided we will go to Nepal for a few days!!!

With those stories behind me, it has been fantastic to see her and have her here. We have been staying in Old Delhi, awakening to the local Muslim prayer call early in the morning (and hearing it repeated another four times throughout the day), and been enjoying the sights from the hotel window and walking through the streets. Our first night we witnessed a Hindu wedding below us where the crew transitioned a slummy alley way into an extravagant setting in just a couple hours. The overall vibe is much less tout-heavy (salesman-all-over-tourists) as the backpacker area, Paharganj, we stayed in earlier, and has tons of great local color.

This morning we took the train to Agra for some monument viewing and now we're off to visit the Taj Mahal!

Labels: India