I'm Home

My world travels have come to a temporary halt. I returned to Oregon, my heart and my home, in early October. It took a night in Ethiopia, two glorious days basking in the sunny, canal woven streets of Amsterdam, a giddy-with-exhaustion reunion in NYC; altogether five solid days of travel, and I finally landed softly back where I started.
I could wax nostalgic all over this post about how the trip has impacted me. I'll leave it at two things that struck me: first, is that people thrive under the unlikeliest of conditions; and as a corollary, what seems to make it possible are the bonds of community and good will - local and global. I am, very simply, humbled by what common focus makes possible. I have great hope that the shape of survival in so many of the places I visited "off roads" from a patently Western trajectory and finds comfort in unique equilibrium.
There and here (caught in the job search decision tangle) the frenzy of choice and possibility set starkly against the simplicity of needs creates a paradox and existential brain tease that, all at once, is excruciating, intoxicating and completely cliche.

Sharing stories, mishaps, opinion, plans, and enthusiasm through this blog has added an unexpected layer of gratitude for it all. I am thankful for this mode of communication- to be able to write to you from some far off place, to capture a piece of the experience and share it, then move on, build on the adventure, and do it again.
I wrote the last several posts during a two week "wrap up" period in Kigali and save the latest to post well after I safely exited the country. Just in case.

Two Faces

Rwanda is a very ordered country, largely thanks to the influence of the uber popular President Kigame who was recently re-elected for another 7 year term with overwhelming support. The elections occurred shortly before I arrived and were marked by a barrage of propaganda campaigns, rallies, and a few random grenade attacks on bus stations in the city center. The rest of the world didn't likely hear much about the violence, thanks mostly to the heavy censorship of bad publicity, including dissent of any kind. Rumor has it that the beloved PK (code name used by expats when speaking frankly in public…that alone should say enough) has full control over the media and silences opposition through discreditation, intimidation, or house arrest. His actions have been openly criticized by human rights groups and the US government, with only curt response. He argues that there is no room for dissent in Rwanda as the country attempts to move forward after the devastation of the 1994 genocide, and that no distractions should be permitted that might interrupt the healing process or development goals. It's an interesting argument and one that is harder to challenge when Rwanda is considered a success story (again by the US government) for progress made since '94. The country experiences little corruption, has low levels of crime and is relatively prosperous compared to its neighbors. The dominant top-down, systematic control approach has interesting consequences, some that might be considered positive while others less so. The strong vigilance of the State manifests in many different ways. For instance, there are little things like getting stopped and fined by the police for putting one foot in a grass median, or slightly more concerning things like learning that there are "files" that exist for every ex-pat residing in the country. Although I can't speak to the file content, the overall message is that your life, your purpose here, and your actions aren't a secret. Citizens are encouraged to report (via "call ins") all kinds of activity to local government. The information is then passed on to higher levels if deemed necessary. On the up-side, this system is largely responsible for a general lack of corruption. Tight fisted influence has instituted a monthly community service day called "umuganda," modeled after traditional practice. On the last Saturday of every month everyone over the age of 18 years is obliged to come together and collectively participate in a community service activity. After the work is done meetings are held to allow time for community members to voice general concerns and to propose future umuganda projects. The projects themselves range from building and repairing infrastructure, to helping vulnerable families within the community. So the control and order has two faces. From a Western point of view, the price paid is privacy and autonomy. I should mention that umuganda is not voluntary, it's expected, police enforced (unless you hide in your home), and incentivized by taking names, shutting down roads and transportation systems, and halting all local business between 8am and noon (roughly). It's organized at the village level, so absences don't go unnoticed. For me, the feeling of being watched is disconcerting, to a nation still rattled by devastating violence, it can reasonably be conceived of as comforting.

Lost in Translation

The t-shirts worn in the rural areas are incredibly amusing. I can't help but smile when I see a little boy wearing a shirt with "world's cutest cowgirl" splashed in sequins across the chest. There's the ironic "I love snow days," or "blondes do it better" and the oh-so cherished image of a super slight 80 year old woman swimming in an oversized “Tupac Lives” tee. I'm passed by a woman, mud crusted hoe in hand, sporting the logo for a Minnesotan turkey trot and I'm left dumbstruck, once again, by the fickle finger of context.

Quirks of Kigali

I've heard a few foreigners refer to Kigali as the "Disney Land" of Africa. The influence of the West are not limited to designer coffee, a 24hr shopping center and Hummers, but the this city has immense personality all its own. The most entertaining and convenient way to get around town is by moto taxi. The process goes something like this: whistle, wave or hiss (very popular) to signal that you want a ride, bargain for a price in French or broken Kinyarwanda, throw on the spare helmet, hop on the back and straddle a total stranger while white knuckling it toward a requested destination. Each ride is an adventure alone, but the blessings of nimble transport can also be its curse. Motos have the advantage of creating a third "lane" by squeezing through the 36 inch gap between the preexisting ones. Capitalizing on vehicular elbow room is guiltlessly satisfying in bumper to bumper traffic. The down side is the momentary terror of getting smeared against neighboring vehicles. Throw in mid-ride (engine running) gas stops, construction-evading sidewalk riding, back seat language lessons, thunderous afternoon downpours, and giant I-need-to-race-EVERYONE ego, and you have a picture of the potential associated shinanyguns. Bus transport is a close second for entertaining conveyance. The Kigali bus system is doing its part to carry Rwandan hiphop to every corner of the city via radio waves and I return the favor by mystifying fellow riders with my white girl "seat dancing" moves.

Karmic Voyeurism

For a weekend excursion we traveled as a group to Akagera National Park in the Eastern Province. I was pretty satisfied with my bicycle safari in Kenya, but in the end I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see more. Plus, we heard that the park had recently burned, making it hard for animals to hide from our prying eyes. The trip required a lot of sitting, which tested everybody's enjoyment of the experience. One of the three vehicles broke down soon after entering the park, which called for creative, close quartered seating reconfigurations in already hot conditions. We saw plenty of incredible wildlife: baboons, giraffes, hippos, crocodiles, spider monkeys, buffalo, gazelle, zebra, and antelope to name a few. Sadly, I think the biting fly attack at the end of the day remains everyone's most vivid memory of the excursion. The inside of our jeep turned into a bloody graveyard of the insidious pests. I smashed indiscriminately and remorselessly.

The Work Begins

The fun and games lasted only a few days before it was time to join a collection of World Water Corps volunteers and begin two harried weeks surveying households and institutions, mapping villages, and collecting water samples. We paired up with students from the Generation Rwanda program and set off to capture a general snapshot of water access and sanitation conditions, and existing infrastructure in the Rulindo district a short distance from Kigali. We set off just after dawn each morning in teams composed of some combination of interviewer, water chemist, student interpreter and a hired driver willing to brave the half-cocked road systems. Rulindo is separated in to several sectors, cells, and villages. I spent my time in the Cynzuzi sector, in the Budkiryana cell, traipsing through eight villages that stretched across one large watershed. Rwanda is indeed the land of a thousand hills, and actually it's quite an understatement. Rulindo, and Cynzuzi in particular, is spread over a rather steep set. Most of the roads in the area follow the ridge line, with villages queezed side by side along hillsides or stretched over them in swaths of mud brown dots straining in the sun at the baren hilltops and plunged down into the cupped shade of lush banana trees at the bottom of the drainage. In order to get geographical representation for our study, we needed to sample households from all corners, which meant a lot of hiking and meandering through plots of wispy cassava and sweet potato. Convincing the "team" to set off for the far reaches was one of the most challenging aspects of the work because it required skidding down and scrambling up long sections of steep eroding trail.

Due partly to the challenging terrain, several villages in Cynzuzi have not benefitted from improved water sources (pipes, tanks, taps, pumps, etc.), as a result they spend hours walking from their homes to remote open sources that flow though ravines, or to pools at the bottom of drainages. During the rainy seasons many families are able to collect water closer to their homes, often harvesting rainwater directly from their roofs. It's now the end of the longer dry season, so every able body: man, woman, and child is recruited to fetch drinking water for the family and their livestock. Jerry cans are used to collect and store water, and the typical can has a 20 liter capacity and weighs about 40 lbs. I can't adequately describe how impressive it is to see people balancing 40 pound jugs on their heads, let alone carry them up these hills. Picture a 45 degree slope, unstable dust/clay trail (not a switchback in sight), and potentially a baby added to the load. What's more, the standard shoe worn in these parts is a foam slip-on. It's athleticism redefined. I call it "circumstantial badassness" and it's something I've marveled over many times during my travels.

The surveys ask a varied set of questions that attempted to capture basic data about water access and sanitation. For example, we want to find out how many people in the district live within 500 meters of a water source, the official distance deemed "acceptable" by the Rwandan government. As it turns out the answer is "very few." The government is currently trying to centralize people in "umudugudus, " or villages, (my absolute favorite word!!) and is pushing for development to occur at the tops of the hills. They are going so far as to try to relocate the households spread out over the hillsides, with a goal of total relocation (about two million rural people) over the next 10 years. They're incentivizing the program by concentrating all services on hilltops, including health services, electricity, water access points (potentially), while preserving individual ownership of cultivated land left behind. As of now, living at the bottom of the hill is a tradeoff that means closer access to water. Those living on hilltops have closer access to roads, markets, and services, but have an inordinately inconvenient schlep to collect enough water to meet their basic needs. Asking about toilets added a bit of levity throughout the day. We needed to get an idea of sanitation practices like hand washing and latrine depth, but the real highlight was the photographic portion of the visit…"don't mind us, we're just skipping through to take a snapshot of the family pooper." Rwandans are private and relatively shy when it comes to asking about toilets and most things related. We were asked to get snapshots of superstructure and make comments as to the level of "technology" associated, such as a roof or a door. Most people laughed at the idea and allowed a photo, some were more reluctant. I can get as jazzed about sanitation as the next person, but I'm no fan of taking awkward pictures. I just smiled and laughed my way through that bit of the visit and always reserved it for last.

The whole experience was largely made enjoyable by good company. I worked with the brilliant Jean Bosco, a clinical psychology student at National University, who took on the project with amazing fortitude and surprising enthusiasm. He took care to interpret conversation in detail, which helped me tremendously in understanding our interviewees, their perspectives and concerns. We were usually joined by another Jean Bosco, a very tall, quiet and humble version who appeared out of thin air one day to guide us around. It took some time to draw it out, but we eventually found out that he was a door to door evangelist in a past life, and therefore acquired an impressively detailed knowledge of the area. His expertise really came in handy when it came time to map village boundaries. Most village boundaries extended from the road up top to the drainage at the bottom of the hill, which was simple enough. Some, however, were identifiable only by longstanding landmarks like avocado trees, which meant that the mapping project required lots of bushwhacking and tap dancing with tin foil hats to find a signal - otherwise recognized as blind faith and patience.

Rwanda: A Thousand Hills and 2,500 Verb Conjugations

Kigali struck me right away as a place that could really grow on me. Thanks to Steph I had the advantage of falling in with friends as soon as I arrived. Nic and his roommates offered me a place to stay and relax during my first days in Rwanda, and introduced me to the local version of a few beloved activities. In the first 48 hours I met with a newly minted hiking group, scheduled a mtn bike ride with a new set of riding partners, found the ultimate frisbee group, and the local Hashers for weekend runs. My first ride was up the back side of Mt. Kigali. The rainy season hadn't started, so the dust was fluffy, stubborn (in that it can momentarily steer your front wheel in unintended directions), and inches thick. I pushed up the first steep ascent only to get bucked off at the apex. I had at least 10 little hands immediately pulling me upright, dusting me off, and pushing me up the hill at a full (and impressively sustained) run. The ride took us through several villages- to the unimaginable joy of every kid in sight. Rwanda is very densely populated; it's the size of Maryland with twice the population. There isn't a remote possibility of biking anywhere and escaping notice. Population density aside, our fairness and general "otherness" is recognizable from miles away. All this really means is that there are non-stop gaggles of children running along side entourage-style. Besides the enthusiastic and persistent crowds, the best part about the rides are the plentiful single track pathways spidering along the hillsides and through drainages that connect climbs. I have unexpectedly landed in a mountain biking paradise.

Here Comes the Avalanche

After the last two months of travel, there is more to write about than ever. From the beginning...of the middle...of where I left off.

From Pai we made our way south to Mai Hong Son, following a route artfully called “The Loop” that’s popular with motorcycle tourists. The first three days of climbing out of Pai had me hanging my body over the front of my bike to keep the front tire from popping up off the road. The hills were steep and relentless and necessary to tackle as early in the morning as possible. We stopped in small towns, waiting out the heat in the afternoon and exploring in the early evenings. By this time we were miles from the Mekong and making our way along the Moie, an unofficial border between Myanmar and Thailand. A day out of Mai Hong Son we ran into the first and only cycle tourist we would meet on the road in Thailand- a jovial, Hawaiian shirt clad Kiwi traveling light with two tiny, half empty panniers. I was green with envy. Because our original plan had us biking through the mountains of Tibet and Nepal through May, we were lugging at least five extra pounds of winter gear, including 3lb zero-degree sleeping bags. The extra weight was particularly insulting as the terrain steepened and the thermometer rose, but ditching the gear wasn’t an option considering the last leg of the trip would take us through the roughest conditions.

Mae Hong Son had a subdued feel to it. The city was tucked in a lush valley and showed all signs of a popular tourist haunt, but the hollow restaurants and quiet strip of shops along the main market implied that the escalating violence in Bangkok was responsible for thinning the herd. The central lake and surrounding temples made up the urban draw. We found a comfortable hotel nestled in an alley off of one of the concentric roads ringing the lakefront and took two days to rest rubbery legs and explore by motor bike. The Mae Surin falls were spectacular. Our waterfall visits had been hit or miss (mostly miss) due to the delay in the monsoon, but this time we lucked out. The falls normally rage, so the dry season is really the only time of year when swimming is possible. We played under the tamer cascades and dove into pool after pool of refreshing, clear, green-blue water. The park was free (as compared to the $10 fees we paid near Loie) and empty. We headed to the hot spring on the other side of town to find it had been captured and held hostage as an expensive day spa, so we skipped it to cruise the countryside and chase after a hard to find canyon. We found underwhelming trickling falls, enveloped in uniquely weathered, spongy rock formations resembling bronze meringue whipped into skyward peaks and slopes. Tanks nearly drained, we headed back to the bikes to find them, and the nearby fence, literally dripping with fluorescent yellow caterpillars. I did my best to shake and sweep them off, but found myself dodging darts of bright mush catapulting from nooks and crannies for a good mile.

From Mae Hong Son we took on a less touristed route and made out way to Mae Sot, a transshipment point and the only open border (for tourists) between Thailand and Myanmar. The road grades between these two cities remain the steepest I have ever cycled…or seen. The combination of steep terrain and rural surrounding meant that we had to maintain high enough mileage to reach food and water by the end of each day. Mae Sariang was a comfortable mid-way stop. We stayed at a family run hotel and the giggly company of two sisters who came to our room toting a costume box and plenty of spunk. It rained with impressive force the morning we planned to head out of town. We had only 40k to go to Mae Ngao National Park, so we risked frying in midday heat and headed out just before noon. The skies were friendly when we left, but the clouds gathered, darkened and burst just 2k from our destination. When we arrived we were told that the park was closed, despite the fact that our Kiwi friend has stayed just a few days before. The park rangers were reluctant to offer up one of the empty bungalows, but apparently our pathetic looks of dejection and our drenched state was enough to win us a huge three bed/two bath bungalow in the end. The power and water had been shut off to the cabins for the season, so our hosts brought us a thermos of hot bathing water and delivered omelets, steamed forest mushrooms, and a pot of rice for dinner. The downpour finally subsided sometime after sunset, promptly followed by a barrage of winged jungle bugs. Thousands of them found their way through the small holes in the window screens and honed in on our headlamps. We sealed off the rooms as best we could, and woke up the next morning to a carpet of carcasses.

Back in India

I have much more to write about my two months in Thailand, but I'm now in India and about to lose internet access for the next 4 to 6 weeks. Here is the general itinerary:

I'll be riding with four friends from Corvallis: Dave, Chris, Danielle and Nyle. Dave is actually "stuck" in Thailand (there are worse things) trying to rectify an infuriating visa problem, but he should join us in a week or two in Keylong. In the mean time, the four of us will take a train to Pathenkot this evening and make our way to Dalhousie and on to Chamba. From Chamba we will take on Sach Pass, one of the highest and most scenic in India. This section should be the most challenging of the trip, so of course I look forward to it...the most. After surviving the pass we will ride along the Manali-Leh highway to Leh, taking side trips along the way. An excursion through the Nubra Valley should be a major highlight with views of the two highest ranges in the world, the Karakoram and the Himalaya. I hyperventilate just thinking about it (the spectacle and the thin air). The plan is to take a bus from Leh to Srinagar to avoid biking the highly militarized area. We'll finish the trip with few days on a house boat in Srinagar in early August before flying back to Delhi and heading off to the next adventure. I promise too much detail and lots of pictures in August! Til then:)

So Much Catching Up!

I have fallen way off the blog wagon. Way off. I'll attempt to breeze through the last month or so without killing off the best bits and pieces with haste. We stayed in Chiang Mai for four days- our longest stint anywhere since Vang Vieng. We took to the hills with unloaded bikes and made the most of our location at the foothills of Doi Inthanon National Park, climbing to the peak at Doi Pio and heading back toward town through lychee orchards. The mtn riding made evident the need to get the bikes tuned. We found a bike magician at Jackie's Bikes who replaced Dave's pedals, crank, chain and cassette and made some much needed realignments to both rigs for an amazing bargain.
Chiang Mai proper was a moted grid of western bars and bakeries bespeckled with towering wats and gilded statues of the Buddha. The constant rush of traffic was best avoided by ducking into the sois (back alleys) that crisscross the patchwork. I managed to find the tastiest and cheapest crop of mangoes at a stray stand down such an alley. If mangoes could dream, they would dream of tasting as good as these mangoes. Good golly. I spent a fair amount of my stay gorging on sticky fruit, machine cleaning my entire wardrobe (twice), gawking at the cost of used books, wrinkling my nose at the Starbucks, McDonald's, and 7-11s on every block (except to dash in and bask in the frigid AC...I'm weak), and reading up on the intensifying battle in Bangkok. By the time we left CM the army had overrun the Red Shirt barricades with tanks, shot a leader in the head (mid interview) and arrested hordes of others. Aside from a red flagged barricade on a street corner and smashed ATMs and telephone booths the day after the government's siege, we didn't see a hint of unrest or hear any concern from locals. A curfew was imposed the morning we left town, so we left at ten minutes after it lifted and left without a hitch.
We made our way to Pai in one 135k push. It wasn't planned or necessarily desired, but we made due after finding little accommodation and no vacancies. The first 50k out of the city were mellow. We found ourselves beginning the ascent just before noon with a very fortunate blanket of clouds protecting us from the mid-day heat. The grade was sustained but relatively mellow. A few showers kept things cool and a jovial band of firemen let us fill up our water bottles mid-way to the summit. From the top we refueld with fried rice and watched with mixed awe and concern at Dave's calf muscles twitching with fatigue. The ride down was seriously steep, windy and hot, but it shot us 8k from town. We limped directly to a guesthouse on the river and passed out.

No Rain to Fend

The heat was intense right off the bat. We rolled out of the border town of Nong Khai well before sunrise and made our way along the scenic highway paralleling the Mekong. The early start was key to making the 105k trip to Chiang Khan before the sun started to sizzle. Laos was a 200 meter stone throw across the river from us for the first three days of riding, but what a difference those 200 meters made. Glorious Laos is not at all like its shiny sassy neighbor. On the Lao side of the Mekong the banks were populated by kids with spears running around in nothing but their Fruit of the Looms and belted fish baskets. As soon as we crossed the bridge the banks were lined with well lit, concrete tiled esplanades and fancy river side restaurants. Thailand can clearly afford its aesthetic. Evidence of the very well established tourist industry was immediate in Nong Khai- map kiosks, menus (and in English), flowers in the highway medians. We passed into a whole new world. A hot new world (I know I already said that). The rains haven't come to relieve the heat. Sancho Z (the rig) has been outfitted with homemade water bottle/zip tie fenders in anticipation of the coming rainy season, but there is not yet any rain to fend off.

From Nong Khai we headed west 105k to Chiang Khan. We rolled along on smooth flat road catching glimpses of the withered river and the uncommonly exposed sand bars and rock formations. The region is no stranger to water scarcity it seems, the banana and pineapple plantations we passed by were dotted with 500 gallon rainwater catchment urns, which eventually became popular fixtures next to homes along the route as well. We rode on to Loei and spent a few days to rest and explore. We caught an early bus to Phu Kradung National Park, paid a hefty entrance fee (clearly well used, the grounds were immaculate) and spent the day hiking up the mountain and circumambulating the plateau. We strolled along the cliff edges for great views until the trail veered off through savannah and crisscrossed a crystal clear stream. We had enough time to play in the water and find one of the many seasonal waterfalls before turning back in time to catch the last bus back to town. From Loei we pedalled on to Phitsanluok through the small town of Dan Sai. We managed to get a quick fly by tour of Dan Sai's famous wat by a visiting nun. The grounds were gorgeous and our hostess incredibly gracious given our dusky arrival. The gardens were in full bloom and lined with precise topiaries. The polished granite walkway wound along a cluster of ornate temples and monastic compounds dripping with traditional decadence.
We spent less than a day in Phitsanluok. The only train with a cargo car for bike transport left in the evening, so we waited it out. The cheapest hotel in town was catty corner to the train station, so our stuff stayed stashed during the heat of the day while we found refuge at a mall. Sacrilegious I know. The building was mercifully air conditioned and sported a whole floor dedicated to whimsy. We killed time playing ping-pong and reading through the Bangkok Post to catch up on the heating Red/Yellow Shirt battle in the city.

Leaving Laos

After waiting out two national holidays we had two 60 day Thai visas in hand. The up side of the holiday delays was the calm that fell over the city, making the transition from the tranquil and traffic-free rural riding a little easier. The owner of the only western bike shop in the country was off racing in Bangkok for all but the last two days we had in Laos. Dave was able to get a new set of pedals and have his crank re-threaded in the final hours of our stay. We rode over the Friendship Bridge and into Thailand without a hitch and began our ride along the Mekong.

We biked on from Poukoun to Kasi, a mid-way stop on our way to Vang Vieng. The route climbed to a high point overlooking another totally unbelievable karst landscape-lobes of weathered limestone pinnacles oddly jutting and drooping in all directions. We descended into the valley below and rode parallel to what turned out to be a ribbon of limestone that continued for several miles. The views continued to Kasi where we found a small partially built guest house. The owner spoke French and told me all about his time in the military, his contempt for violence, and his contentment with recent retirement. Strangely enough it was the first personal conversation I had with a local outside the usual exchanges of personal details, travel plans, etc. It had everything to do with his comfort with the language I'm sure.

Vang Vieng was a giant playground. We stayed for a week in a bungalow on the edge of the Nam Song. It was easy to avoid the dodgy downtown area we were well warned about- the stories of Friends playing on a continuous loop and hopped up young'ns roaming the streets and walking in not-so straight lines were all true. We ended up spending all of our time poking around the giant limestone massif and the 20 or so square kilometers of "playground" surrounding it that was a convenient ankle deep river-wade away. There were caves aplenty to explore- enormous caverns with shimmering walls and formations falling from the walls like dripping wax, and slender tubular caves that required exhalations and carefully engineered bodily contortions to explore. Despite my raging claustrophobia, one of the best cave trips led down to a pitch black swimming hole accessible by rickety wire ladder. The more picturesque places to cool off were the unbelievably blue lagoons equipped with rope swings and tree branch jumps. We hiked, biked, caved and swam are hearts out, which solidly brands Vang Vieng as a cherished spot. My kind of paradise!

Dave's bike continues to die a slow death. He broke a pedal while attempting to ride on to Vientiane. We delayed a day and found a 15 Kip set of replacement pedals at the market. Unfortunately they stripped his crank and left us on the side of the road a few miles out of town. Luckily we waited only ten minutes before a direct bus to VT came rambling along and picked us up. Our bikes were strapped to the roof for no extra charge and five hours later we were in the capital in search of the Thai embassy.

The ride out of Luang Prabang was epic. The climb was tough, but we started out during the cooler morning hours and managed to beat the worst of the heat. As it turned out the relentless climb we previewed was not just 15k, but actually continued on for closer to 60k. The skyward route allowed sweeping views of the hills and valleys of the Luang Prabang province and forgave slightly by cooling as we climbed. Two gallons of water and a few hours of ridge climbing later we arrived in Kietachamba. We immediately dove face first into well earned bowls of fried noodles, eggs and veggies. The next morning we rode off for Poukoun and Phonsavan to see the Plain of Jars. Phonsavan was another of my favorite stops. The city is at elevation and surrounded by rolling, green, pine covered hills. It reminded me of home a bit- breezy, beautiful, territory ripe for adventure. Ironically, this province was the most heavily bombed during the Secret War with only slivers of land cleared of UXOs (unexploded ordinances...bombs). The Plain or Jars is actually three different areas where ancient stone urns are clustered. The sites were only recently cleared of UXOs and opened to tourism, implying that there are likely others that are currently off limits. Though there is some speculation about the purpose of the jars, the locals believe that they were used to as burial sites where the dead were laid to rest until the bones could be collected and disposed of according to tradition. The jars themselves are pretty unbelievable. The stone used to construct them can't be found anywhere near the province, and even the smallest jars weigh at least half a ton. Despite weathering, simple carvings can still be deciphered from the sides of the urns and their lids. Battle remnants were visible at two of the sites caught in the crossfire. Trenches, enormous bomb craters, and bullet riddled jars are clear enough evidence, though it seems so unlikely while standing on a lush hilltop under peaceful blue skies dangling puffy white clouds. That's the tragedy of Phonsavan in a nutshell. All that meets the eye is serene, breezy, beautiful. Unfortunately, due to carpet bombing of the area (not on the short list of things that make me proud to be an American), there are literally millions of unexploded bombs lurking in the forests and under potentially valuable farm land. This effectively paralyzes locals from making a living and nips any DIY adventure in the bud in an area ripe for the best kind of exploration.

We made it back to our riverside perch after all. The return ferry ride was perfectly timed for sunset views of the valley, giving a back-lit glow to the sharp cones of karst looming overhead. Most of the villages lining this section of the river are simple secluded fishing villages only accessible by boat. We passed by during village bathing hour and caught glimpses of families soaping up along the shoreline with waves and smiles. The following day brought epic thunder storms. I woke up early and watched the sunrise behind the thunder and lightening from my hammock. The rain cleared the air, so for the first time since arriving in Laos we could finally see our surroundings in their fully glory. Incredible. It was like wiping thick dust off of a lens- it all finally came in crystal clear. We spent the morning exploring and taking pictures, then set off for the main highway junction at Pak Mong under a very dark and rain pregnant sky. We spent the night at a truck stop style guest house with an oh so avoidable bathroom and hit the road for Luang Prabang before the sun came up the next morning (thanks to a very persistent and loud rooster that crowed 2 feet from our room).

We sped to LP on mostly flat road and spent the next several days hopping back on the bikes and taking short trips to check out the sights. The Tad Se waterfall is supposed to be one of the major draws. We got ourselves unnecessarily lost trying to find it, paid for a boat ride and an entry fee, and ended up at a waterless pit. It's the height of the dry season. Laughable but majorly disappointing after seeing the pictures of the turquoise-hued, multi-tiered falls. Plus, by overshooting the turn to the falls we ended up surmounting a relentless 15k climb and were in serious need of cooling off. We felt persistent enough to follow road signs up a windy dirt road to a second set of falls (also dry)...so the cooling off plan didn't pan out very well, but we did get a chance to preview our ride out of town (HILLS!) and had a laughable adventure.

Most of Luang Prabang sits on a peninsula at the convergence of the Mekong and Khan rivers. The entire town is designated a UNESCO World Heritage site for the well preserved architecture, wats and French architectural accents. The highlights for me were the live music, standing on the bank of the wide Mekong and losing sight of my toes in the mud of its murky waters, and watching the sunset over the river from the top of Mt Phusi. Our guest house was a family run venture complete with a baby bassinet swinging from the rafters in the communal living room. The acrobatic bed belonged to "Meu Meu" (onomatopoeia for kitty cat) the barely walking toddler who probably has more international fans than anyone else I've met.

I had one major goal to accomplish before leaving LP and that was to find "rodent on a stick." We've seen dried and skewered squirrel?? at bus stops and roadside markets since arriving in Laos, but it hasn't looked quite....hmmm fresh or free of flies. I should probably be grossed out by the fact that the head and teeth are intact on the BBQed tidbits, but it mostly just intrigues me all the more. Ok, I admit that I initially thought I was seeing sizzled rat and was a lot less tempted, but I met a Lao speaker from Orange County (yep) and he set me straight. The meat market stalls in LP had all manner of ingenious fly swatter- jerry rigged stick/bag/fan combos- so I figured it would be my least sketchy chance at it. No dice. Turns out most foreigners prefer more recognizable meat varieties like fish and chicken. There was no fillet o' squirrel in sight, so I settled for a chicken thigh and a skewered patty of sticky rice instead. Disappointed for the time being, but no less determined.

It was in LP that we decided to scrap previous plans to bike in China. We had thrown together a plan to replace the Lhasa to Kathmandu trip by riding through Yunnan and Szechuan to redeem as much of the Tibetan Plateau bike experience as we could. With the mounting costs, the increasingly complicated logistics, and the recommendations of Thai touring coming from acquaintances, we concocted a new plan to continue south. My brother is living in Phuket for a few months, so if all goes as planned we will ride along the Myanmar border, bypass Bangkok (yikes), and roll up to his door by early June.

Happy New Year!

The approach of Pi Mai, the Lao New Year, was incentive for us to head out of Phongsali (for fear of getting stuck) and make our way to Nam Khio to wait out the holiday paralysis and join the celebration. Luang Prabang is the center of Pi Mai celebrations, but apparently becomes packed and expensive so best avoided. Nam Khio on the other hand was a 26k detour from the main highway (I use that term loosely) and is nestled between the Nam Ou and huge thumbnail-shaped limestone mounds. It's idyllic and we managed to score yet another sweet place to stay- a river side bungalow with a deck and two hammocks.

We rode into town on day three of Pi Mai, the day of "purification," which is basically a gigantic water fight. There were crowds of kids in every village we passed waiting with all manner of water carrying vessel, from the squat toilet water scooper to the Super Soaker with the reserve backpack tank, poised to splash us without holding back a shred of delight. It was equally as fun for us. Getting drenched cooled things off and made the late afternoon ride all the more enjoyable. The road into town was fast and rolling and the views just keep getting better and better as the road neared the river and the walls of karst closed in. We spent a few days relaxing around town, swimming in the Nam Ou and exploring nearby caves. Two very entrepreneurial kids picked us up on the road and guided us through the first undeveloped site. The brother/sister pair led us across a stream, through thickets (holding back the bushes to clear the path) and up a jungle viney path to the mouth of an enormous hidden cave. They were the best guides we hired all trip until I stoked the fires of sibling rivalry and they had a slight falling out over splitting the one bill I had to pay them. We stealthily excused ourselves from the entanglement and made our way through the giant archways and deep caverns that were used as government outposts, banks, hospitals and bomb shelters during the war.

With Pi Mai still in full swing, we caught a ferry up river to Muang Ngoi with a group of citified teens sporting holiday appropriate "no alcohol" t-shirts. The river side village is only accessible by boat and we found out upon arrival that afternoon ferry service is only intermittent. Without much hope of making it back, we took to the trails and made our way through old growth forest, rice paddies turned cow pasture, and clusters of thatched homes on bamboo stilts. We made like the local mud loving water buffalo and took a cooling jungle dip before making a last stop at two caves sites with gushing crystal clear springs. Celebrations were in full swing by the time we made it back to town. Everyone had jumped over to the opposite bank and was bouncing to Thai pop in a drunken water soaked mass. We abandoned all hope of making it back to our bungalow, hopped on an over-stuffed homemade house boat, and joined the party.

Powered by Pho

It took us two days to make to the Laos border, passing through Lai Chau, Thang Phang, Muang Lay and finally ending up in Dien Bien. Warned by other cyclists, we opted to bus through the roughest sections of road. Except...we didn't. Due to some very grandiose dam construction plans that will fully submerge several villages, the road between Thang Phang and Muang Lay was a soupy quagmire of gooey red mud. Good thing I love mud because I have lots of tread and no fenders, so my bike and I were a moving ball of dirt. We made it through the best of the sloppiness and assumed it went on to our final destination, so we opted to hop a bus as suggested. By some stroke of crazy luck we rolled in to town with just enough time to find a hose and (when the electricity kicked back on in the nick of time) power wash ourselves and the bikes enough to be allowed to ride. Turns out the road cleared up 10k out of town and the pavement was smooth as silk the entire way. Something got lost in translation, but I'm not sure I would have done it any other way in the end. The entire region is mountainous and people mostly subsist on small plots on impossibly steep hillsides. The seasonal slash and burn practices mean that smoke gets stuck in the valleys making it hard to breath or catch the view. Taking the bus allowed us to skip past the fresh blazes and the long climbs through them that would have meant sucking in lung fulls of the ash that was constantly falling from the sky.

We caught the 5am bus out of Dien Bien with an interesting bunch of Westerners. The border road was in the middle of reconstruction, or maybe construction...either way, our bus was stopped for a couple of hours while bulldozers destroyed and recreated a cliff side ledge for our passage. The trip was otherwise seamless and the road completely skipable. No regrets there either. We arrived in Laos severely strapped for cash and a 100k from the nearest ATM, so we made a quick exit from our drop off point at Muang Khua and headed along the Nam Ou river to Oudamxi. Despite the lingering smoke the ride was gorgeous and it made me fall instantly in love with Laos. I can safely speak in general terms and say that there is no traffic here. I've made it half way through the country and could probably keep a daily finger count of the number of cars that pass. People are incredibly friendly and we get non-stop enthusiastic greetings and waves from just about everyone we pass. The kids are especially with a friendly "sabaai-dii." We head out before dawn every morning to get as many miles in during the coolest hours of the day as possible. Even at that hour there is no chance of missing the goings-on of village life here. That's perhaps the best part of traveling by bike anywhere. What makes it so great here is that Laotians don't seem to give a care whatsoever about odd looking foreigners passing through on odd modes of transportation that look like hermit shells on wheels. Nobody jumps in the road or attempts to screw with us when we pass, there isn't any yelling of things we don't quite understand but can pretty solidly interpret as unfriendly. We enter into plenty of clumsy but jovial conversations when we sit around to make food stops. The food is fantastic of course, and my favorite mid-ride meal at this point is pho. Most villages have a stand serving their version of rice noodle soup. We stop to lap up an aqueous meal or two en-route and stash a bag of sticky rice in our packs for snacking.

The smoke remained heavy through Oudamxi, so we opted to head for higher ground and spent a few days in Phongsali. The town was spared during the war and still retains inflections of Yunnanese influences. Unfortunately, the smoke made its way up there too and smudged out what would have been epic views. The bus ride up (yep, more haenous road) was an adventure alone. We were put on a rogue overflow mini bus, which meant that our lunch stop was a pull over spot along a road side stream trickle instead of a jam packed bus stand. Everyone piled out and headed for the bushes to do their bizz, washed and cooled off in the trickle, and then copped a squat in clusters of at least 5 strangers to share a meal. The road was all boulders and loess, so after nine hours of bouncing along while sweating profusely we arrived blanketed in layers of yellow, gray and red dust to match the changing shades of the road.

Sapa

Another of my favorite places for sure. Sapa is a hill station in northwestern Vietnam sought for its cooler weather and killer views. Hill tribes of H'mong and Dao reside in the valleys flanking the city, drawing the local women (fully adorned in their traditional garb) to the streets to sell locally made jewelry, purses and embroidery. The plan was to stay just a few days, but Sapa's instant charm, aided by the huge score on a cheap room with million dollar top-floor views, was enough to suck us in for a solid week of exploration. Once again the bikes served as an ideal mode for self made adventure. Like any tourist hot spot there are aspects of Sapa that are borderline "Disneyified." A few of the closest villages have been paved over with staircases to ease the conveyor belt of westerners curious to take a peek at local life and buy imported trinkets hawked as local goods. Luckily it took little effort to meander into less manicured surroundings. We strolled out to Sinchai village exploring random trails, dodging water buffalo on the munch and winding our way through terraced fields mid-plow. The place was buzzing with babies. Seemingly everything from chickens and goats, to pigs and people had just given birth to a gaggle of offspring. It was a grand tour of local life highlighted by the kiddies of course- nimbly scaling rocky staircases on stilts to show off, laughing wildly while flinging mud at each other (good game), and wee ones toddling up to us toothless and pantsless to give enthusiastic waves hello. Exploration near Sapa was all about the timing. The clouds rolled in and burned off with chaotic unpredictability. The freedom of the bikes let us take full advantage of the ideal weather pockets. With the exception of one very wet and stormy descent from the Golden Stream Love Waterfall (yep)/ Silver Falls excursion, we managed to ride through some of the most incredible scenery by jumping out the door at the first hint of clear skies. The descent from Sapa into the Tay valley wove along a slender one-lane road overlooking endless rice terraces etched into the hillsides. The view opened up like a Dr. Suessian jigsaw puzzle-concentric waves of green stacked from the base to tip of every basin in sight and spilling out as far as the eye can see. Needless to say this was an ideal place to tool around and increasingly peel away at the touristic veneer by striking out by foot, bike and moto.
For the first time on the trip we found ourselves in the company of other bike tourists and made the fortunate acquaintance of Felix, a German cyclist traveling in the opposite direction, who gifted us with a hard to find map of Laos. We spent a few last lively nights in the good company of other travelers before saying reluctant goodbyes to Sapa and finally setting off for Vietnam's highest pass and new adventures on the other side.

The two weeks of vacation from the vacation has come to an end. My mom flew in from Oregon and treated me to accommodations well beyond the comfort of recent haunts. We spent a week in Hoi An, a beach town along the central coast known for the zillion market stalls offering tailor made clothes. Our home-stay was set back from town-peaceful and covered in orchids. The loaner bikes were the best way to get around and we filled most days meandering through rice paddies in the surrounding fishing villages and exploring nearby beaches. On one of our late afternoon excursions we were invited in to a local home for dinner. We ate fish, rice and squash over simple conversation errr sign language (of sorts). All we had with us to show thanks were two smiles and a five piece pack of berry flavored Extra.
We returned to Hanoi and made a mad dash to fit in a two day junk cruise (Chinese sailboat) around Halong Bay. The area is a Unesco World Heritage Site and considered one of the seven "natural wonders." The dramatic landscape leaves no question why. There are some 3,000 towering monoliths clustered around the jade green waters of the bay - the skeletal remains of ancient bedrock. Our boat stopped off at set of impressively sized limestone caverns with incredible formations mottled from the erosive force of dripping water. Baffling. The characteristic mist that hangs around this time of year made for a truly ethereal landscape. Rowboats paddled us through a floating fishing village situated in a remote corner of the bay where the cultivated pearl industry seems to be thriving. We cruised past several floating shacks with attached satellite dishes. I don't thinks it's possible for me to be surprised by the places I find cable any longer. I turned 27 on the boat- yet again I had the great fortune to be in an amazing place and celebrate with a few of my favorite people. Hoi An had a variety of very unique cakes, so we poked candles into five inches of frosting whipped into ducks and water buffalo (accented with genuine silk leaves) a few days early. I just couldn't resist that kind of edible theatricality.
On our last day in the city I took a pre-dawn walk around the lake. It was a circus of exercisers. The inner path was a nucleus of enthusiastic early risers gesticulating wildly, bending joints Tin Man style, slapping (circulation?), and jazzercising like fiends. Runners and power walkers orbited in an endless string. The jem of the bunch was the ancient looking couple playing a ruckus game of badminton with the all the might their four feet and some shrunken change could muster as they have probably enjoyed every morning since the beginning of time.
Later the same evening we hopped an overnight train to Sapa, traveling in the comfort of an incredibly slim deluxe sleeper stuffed with bike boxes and luggage. We had the bikes set up by sunrise and stopped for some roadside pho before slogging the 35k up to town. The ascent was particularly challenging after more than two weeks off the bike, but was eased a bit by the clouds that hung around and kept things cool until the last 5k. Sapa turned out to be a cool town. We've been exploring the villages and sites for just under a week and plan to head toward the Laos border at sunrise tomorrow.

The Whole World Loves Tea and Cookies

The train ride to Bangalore was seamless. The city was unlike any other- very western, very cosmopolitan, and very clean. We stayed in the commercial sector of town along MG Rd, a close replica of Time Square, complete with the glitzy billboards, wall to wall shopping, and a sea of dueling black and yellow tuk-tuks. We spent the two days we had in the city picking up bike boxes and haphazardly perusing the sights. We made our way to the Bull Temple, the Karnatakan modern art museum and found refuge in a couple of inner city parks and gardens. Saying goodbye to India was bitter sweet. The DIY India-by-bike adventure was a pretty marvelous way to start a year of travel, but there were times I found India to be pretty brutal and I was itching to see and experience someplace new. I also felt shackled by the strangely oppressive lack of independence ( I imposed on myself, admittedly). I just didn't feel safe on my own most places and couldn't get around independently without being followed or asked the standard set of invasive questions. Usually if I lied and said I was married I was eventually left alone, or the charade ended a bit quicker. I made up for my lack of appreciation for Indian men with my hefty appreciation for Indian food. The lighter southern fare was particularly awesome, so for a last time I enjoyed a farewell meal of the oh-so-commonly consumed masala dosa and sticky sweet chai before stuffing two bike boxes in a reluctant TaTa minivan and flying south to Vietnam.

Ha Noi is a world change for sure. I can't help but notice the parallels to my recent surroundings though. One of my very favorite similarities or "universals" as I've begun to call them is the manner in which the elderly generation walk about like time capsules. They very literally dress, talk, and act as if the crazy developed world has not exploded into a market based frenzy all around them. Here in Vietnam this takes the shape of 80lb, 4 foot tall women sporting outfits resembling sets of silk pajamas with conical hats (in a sea of blue jeans and high heels) roaming the streets with superhuman loads of snacks/fruit/flowers/plucked lifeless chickens across their shoulders. Sadly, it seems that wealth is leading to "sameness" (homogeneity, but "sameness" sounds as dull as it is). Cities look the same, everyone is dressed in the same brands, and the crowds flock to the same familiar Pizza Hut, KFC (I'm pretty baffled by that one) and designer coffee outlets on every corner. It's not all bad, but surely surprising. Seeing the older generation hang on to familiarity and a few nuggets of tradition inside Ha Noi's swirl of cosmopolitan fury really is a sight for sore eyes.

Wayanad was relaxing and surprisingly unpeopled. Our hotel in Kalpetta was centrally located, so we were able to take day trips and explore the sights by bike on quiet back roads. The first stop was Soojipara falls where we were joined by a very lively group of Indian tourists splashing and showering en mass. We scrambled up Chembra peak (about 7,000 ft) and enjoyed the summit and 360 views without company. Our last excursion to Keralad Lake took us through small villages, coffee, banana, and rubber plantations. The lake itself was more of a giant pond covered in gorgeous purple lotus. Trash cans are relatively non-existent in public places anywhere in India (that I have visited) so there's an unfortunate amount of litter strewn around any place a tourist might visit- the lake was no exception.
We made our way to Mysore by bus, descending out of the Western Ghats to the base of the Chamundi Hills. The Mysore Palace is the major draw here and it did not disappoint. The synchronistic influences of English, Indian, and Mogul styles result in Indo-Saracenic architecture. The palace is incredibly decadent and draws from the best of its inspirations. No photography is allowed indoors, which is particularly disappointing because it was the only palace I've seen so far with good lighting! I'll attempt to post a few of the photos I took of the grounds next chance I get. I'm off to Bangalore on a morning train tomorrow...

The North Coast to Karnataka

Over the last couple of weeks we have made our way along the west coast of Kerala and Karnataka, passing through Calicutt, Kannur, and Bekel. Kannur, with its long and unpopulated beaches, turned out to be a great spot. The accommodations were considerably more posh and expensive along the coast and we have been "stuck" paying for nicer resort type places a few times. We ended up at a resort on Kappad beach, 20k from Calicutt, after an unsuccessful search for a room. Callicut felt inhospitable and was a way bigger city than expected, so the splurge felt well worth it. After a half day of living the good life we headed for Kannur and then on to Bekel, a smaller, mostly Muslim town that promised plenty private beach to explore. We arrived in Bekel in time to observe one of the biggest holidays of the year, Milad un Nabi, celebrating the birth of Muhammad. There were endless parades of boys marching in the streets, donning the green and white of the Muslim flag. Everything around Bekel was green- the buildings were wrapped in green flagging, every mosque was green, and our entire hotel down to the trash can in our room was green. We were stopped on the street several times and offered celebratory sweets. I ended up trying a tasty mystery concoction-a thick green drink made with milk, rice, pista, and lots of cardamon. I rarely saw Muslim women on the street in Bekel, but those who were out wore a hijab or were fully covered in a black veil. The religious diversity in Kerala (and surrounding area) is remarkable. We'll pass Hindu temples, Synagogues, Christian churches and mosques in a stretch of a few hours. The churches here are way more... enthusiastic! compared to any I've seen in the states. The distinctly Indian use of bright colors and deafeningly loud music really spice up a cathedral.

Before heading north, we found a cluster of cottages along the beach in Kannur and made a point to stop for a few nights on our way back through. The grounds were meticulously manicured and the atmosphere was markedly relaxed with hammocks swinging from every palm. I was reluctant to leave, but excited to head to the hills of Karnataka. After a long day of climbing we've arrived in the Wayanad district, known for its coffee and banana plantations as well as a large wildlife preserve. The preserve itself is closed for the month for animal census (common this time of year), but there is plenty to see and explore along the perimeter. We're still following relatively busy national and state highway, but have managed to meander off the beaten track through smaller towns and villages. As has been characteristic of the south, the people of Wayanad are all smiles and are extremely hospitable. We hopped around for a few days, but have found another nice resting place at the Kannur Ayurvedic Hospital (misnomer) in Kalpetta. We will continue to Mysore and on to our departure point at Bangalore, however it looks as though we will have to take a bus on the last stretch since Dave's bike seat snapped off (a few times) and is getting increasingly difficult to jerry-rig. Luckily there's a new seat on the way and a short break from biking for a few weeks in Vietnam.

Catch Up

I've realized for some time that I neglected to mention, at any point, what my travel plans are.
I'm hoping to travel for much of the year. This being month four I expect most of my plans to change over the course of the trip. As of now, I'm still touring Kerala by mountain bike. I'm hauling about 25 kg on my rear rack, 8kg in a top tube pouch (tools) and another 8kg or so on my back (water and food). I made the mistake of keeping my fat knobby tires on my bike, so the going is a little tougher than necessary. I spend a lot of my day pondering friction and the "pore size" of Indian pavement as a result. I'll continue with this ramshackle rig to Vietnam in March, and I plan to bike south through Laos, Cambodia and into Thailand. From there, I'll head north to China and bike from Lhasa to Kathmandu over the month of May. June is a planned group trip back in India (Corvallis friends, and friends of those friends) from Manali to Srinagar by way of Leh. If money allows, I hope to make it to NZ and then off to Africa to help Steph with round two of her fellowship fieldwork. I'm super excited for each stage of the adventure and can't deny loving it so far.

Munnar!

Munnar is covered in tea. The hillsides in every direction are a carpeted in a maze patchwork of what looks like lush, leafy green, batting. It's like something out of a Lewis Carroll novel- very other worldly. We spent a few days exploring the hillsides by bike. Though there is no shortage of offers for guided trekking, it's easy enough to head for the hills and find plenty of public cow paths and roads carving through the plantations. The few days of rest at about 5, 000 ft allowed us a brief reprieve from the heat and humidity. The decent from Munnar was breath taking. The topography of the landscape is exaggerated by the tea bushes, so the view from above look out over an undulating sea of green, with hilltops capped in green spirals. From Munnar we headed toward the Western Ghatts through the Chinar Wildlife Reserve, miles and miles of coconut palms, and on into Utamapelt. The mostly downhill day allowed us to push a 130K in to Pollachi, in Tamil Nadu. We ended up in a dodgy back alley hotel, but spent our time there exploring the Parambikulam Wildlife Reserve. The reserve is home to 15 of the 1,411 tigers left in India (there's a very well publicized Save Our Tigers campaign) but none in sight during our visit. We were required to hire a guide, but were fortunate enough to be led on a great hike through tropical, deciduous, and pine forest. We ascended a grueling 3,000 ft in a short amount of time, but the view of miles of jungle were well worth the mild heat stroke. Our guide took more pictures of us than the landscape, leading us to believe we might have been on his inaugural trek as a true blue guide.

From Pollachi we headed back along the coast to Thrissur, where we discovered ice cream cones and the zoo. Both cost only 10 rupees, but the ice cream was significantly more enjoyable. The animal cages were hard to stomach. They were devastatingly under sized, crude, barrack-like animal prisons. Dramatic? Maybe. The furrier animals were lethargic to the point of barely conscious, and I could very literally feel their pain. We nursed our depression and cooled off with not one, but two frosty cones.

The heat in Thrissur and beyond has been borderline oppressive, so we've been getting up in the dark and hitting the road at first light every morning. Lucky for us it's watermelon season! We've been dividing our roadside rehydration between coconut water and melons (piled high) along the way.

Planes, Trains and Double Decker Automobiles

We wrapped up Rajasthan by strapping our bikes atop buses. We did this with reluctance, but the long stretches of desert between our last destinations were short on water and safe places to sleep, and we were pressed for time (considering all we wanted to see). We traveled on to Jodhpur and explored its hilltop fort, with fantastic views of the "blue city" splashed in indigo below. The wide tree-lined lanes, cooler weather and chaotic spice market were major highlights. Our home stay was next door to the HQ of an NGO working to empower local women. The organizer, a colorful and vivacious man, gave me a gigantic can of Canadian bear mace when he learned I was traveling the country by bike. I was entertained by his emphatic and theatrical explanation of its necessity, so I didn't refuse (I ditched it before ever having to use it though). Our last leg through Rajathan brought us to Udaipur, a touristic lake-side city surrounded by rolling hills. Despite the glitz, this was my favorite city stop. Not only do I love mountains and proximity to water, but the palaces and gardens are incredibly well maintained and fantastically colorful.

We took a 14 hour train ride back to Delhi to send Adam back to Australia and to prepare our bikes for a plane ride to Kerala. Packing our bikes for the train ride ended up a painless and entertaining effort. We made good friends with the cheerful guys at the station's parcel office in Udaipur (ending in several group pictures) and found our bikes unscathed at the other end. We managed to snag second class non A/C sleepers for our long ride, but were also lucky enough to share close quarters with a man who snored loud enough to eclipse the rattle and clang of the train itself. Quite a feat. Our time in Delhi was passed by endless pots of Chai and games of rummy (thanks Steph!). We also made our way to the Gandhi Museum and the 40 acres of gardens surrounding it (thanks for the recommendation Anne!), which turned out to be major highlights.We arranged to get bike boxes from an outfitter in Delhi and, despite flagrant weight violations, got them (jam packed) on our plane to Kerala sans charges.

Kerala is amazing. We started this leg of the adventure in Fort Cochin, a sleepy southern town on the shores of the Arabian Sea. Our home stay in Cochin was nestled in a thick neighborhood jungle of coconut palms and banana trees, and our host family was incredibly kind. The heat and humidity, as expected, hit us like a ton of bricks. Our late morning departure to Thattekhad Bird Sanctuary 70K away meant a punishing sweat-fest of a bike trip. Luckily, fruit is plentiful and we were able to stop for fresh watermelon and coconut water to hydrate. Despite the weather, getting back on the bike felt glorious. Thattekhad boasts 300 bird species and, although we're far from being ornithologically savvy, it was exhilarating to spot a few rare species. Our initial predawn tour of the park was cut short by a pack of wild elephants blocking the path. Apparently they're quite aggressive and will charge when threatened. We made up for it by touring the area by canoe and unencumbered bikes. This was our first opportunity in a long while to enjoy some single track riding. The nicely packed trails took us through small villages lining the riverside and along lakes dotting the park's borders. We stayed in the park an extra day to catch the Shiva Festival. The festival celebrates Shiva's protection. To show reverence, the villagers stay awake all night to allow Shiva rest from 364 days of vigilance. Celebrations included a theatrical and rucous procession that entailed impressive frantic drumming, dancing, and explosive fireworks. The men did all of the dancing, beating each other with tree branches in a writhing mosh pit encircled by a row of clasped hands attempting to contain the chaos as the procession made its way down the street. The women calmly led the masses, lining the street in rows holding candles floating in bowls of flower petals. The display was magical and a nice departure from the campy variety of "authentic" dance and theater that most tourists are limited to.

After an exhausting 30 miles of climbing, we've made our way to Munnar. We're surrounded by crisp air, true mountains and rolling patches of fresh green tea plantations. We'll hang out here for a few days to explore more single track and, hopefully, do some rock climbing.

A Posse of Three Takes on the Desert

So we've set off biking though Rajasthan, a gang of three since our friend Adam joined us in Jaipur. Our recent stretch took us 330K from Jaipur to Bikaner. The landscape became full dusty pink desert as soon as we hit Jaipur, the air cleared, the roads mellowed, and sunshine became consistent. Along the way we stopped in Sikar where we had another chance meeting and befriended the family who oversees the local Hindu temple. We shared tea in the evening and met up the next morning only to get carted through every classroom at Ashok's school to the delight of both the students and teachers. He and his friends also got a huge kick out of carting around three foreigners on the back of their motor bikes. Fahtipur was a gorgeous old city and we managed to score a fantastic haveli (open air hotel) - one of the cleanest and neatest places we've stayed at so far. I got sick somewhere between Fahtipur and Ratangar, but we still managed to eek out a lively tour of a temple (I promptly crashed for 16 hours afterward). The Bikaner Fort was a major highlight. Of all of the forts and palaces we've managed to see in Rajasthan, the Bikaner Fort was by far the most ornate and intricately decorated. The carved sandstone, marble inlays, and walls gilded in gold leaf and inlaid with silver mirrors were spectacular. Another major highlight was the five legged cow roaming down the road (yes, the fifth appendage was dangling, complete with hoof, from the cow's hump). Due to the lack of water and places to stay between Bikaner and Jaisalmer, we opted to take a bus. Jaisalmer resembles a giant sand castle on a hill. The fort is the main draw and it unique in that people actually still live within its walls. We managed to arrive in town in time for the Desert Festival- a celebration of the state's art and culture. Rajasthani dress is totally unique and it's at its height now that we're deep in desert solitude. The men are known for the long mustaches they cultivate. They generally wear a white shalwar (imagine a pajama set) and any hue of colorful turban. The women wear sets of full arm bangles and shockingly bright shades of pink and orange patterned with gold glitter. I've tried to get pictures, but people generally don't appreciate it and refuse photographs. From Jaisalmer, we biked 40 to Kuhri for a one night stay in a gigantic and plush tent, and a one night camel safari in the Great Thar Desert. The tent stay was accidental but welcomed- just a case of an out of date guide book. The camel safari was a riot. We took off with three camels and three guides, stopping for lunch and a nap near a pack of foraging wild camels, and ending the day watching sunset over the dunes and sleeping under the stars. Our guides barely knew English and our Hindi is still really basic, but we made fast friends. This desert adventure was most striking for me because it's the first time in months that I've experienced solidtude. We actually felt silence for a day, which is incredibly rare in India. This isn't a place you would characterize as tranquil, and I've had an interesting time trying to do anything alone here without getting followed or harrassed by men on the street. To say that I reveled in my aloneness would be putting in mildly.

Dave's Blog

For another perspective on this adventure...

http://www.davetrench.blogspot.com/

A Road Map of our Travels

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Two weeks, Three States and Lots of Adventure

We rolled into Jaipur on the night of the 13th after back to back 100k days (ouch). We timed our arrival with the kite festival celebrated in the city every year. By the time the sun was up on the 14th, the sky was filled with kites, populating the horizon like a pack of flitting butterflies. The entire city took to the rooftops and there were numerous kiting competitions throughout the city. The neighborhood kids battle locally to snip competing kites out of the sky with deft spinning motions (so much harder than it looks!). Every time a kite is felled there's a hearty "whoa katah" wailed from a nearby rooftop- roughly translating to "your done/dead." We spent the day flying kites and relaxing with friends on a rooftop in a nearby colony outside the city. How we came to meet these friends and how they have impacted the last two weeks of travel and adventure is a whole new story, one that I will attempt to recount here but hardly believe myself. Here goes...

Our first major cycling destination was Bharatpur to visit Keoladeo Bird Sanctuary and rest for a few days. While there, we made a chance acquaintance with some friendly locals who invited us to dinner. After two nights of good conversation and learning how to make chapatis and curry, we were invited to stay on a family farm outside of Mainpuri. We cycled the 180K or so back to Uttar Pradesh and were welcomed with the most amazing kind of hospitality I have ever experienced. That may sound over stated. It's not. They say that guests in India are "treated like gods" and I have to say that's really not an overstatement either. We were given the best room, fed and entertained constantly, and were refused when we offered any effort (monetary or otherwise). Of the week we spent in the village of Jinjaing there were several highlights. Overall, the chance to see "real" India and be absorbed into a family was the best kind of experience and one I had hoped to have during my travels. The kids were incredibly fun and some of the kindest and least shy hosts (their English is best too and our Hindi is much improved after our visit). We played all versions of tag, foot races and caroms with them (a family favorite). Rita, our host mother, taught me how to milk a buffalo and cook chicken curry (right after Dada had Dave point to the bird that would be our dinner). Our second to last day marked the first day of a two week district cricket match. The cricket grounds were in our host village, and the preparation field smoothing, food preparation, and visiting team accommodations for the games were a collective effort. Dave and I were invited to the match as "chief guests," which turned out to mean that Dave would throw the ceremonial opening ball to a visiting parliamentarian (like a Senator), I would have the pleasure of the second ceremonial bat (I whiffed it and Dave got his first wicket), and I would give out the post-game "man of the match" trophy. We were a spectacle the entire day, seated between the dignitary and the MC. Over the course of the 4 hour 20/20 match, we could hear a smattering of Hindi over the mic interspersed with our names...followed by laughter. Lots of pictures were taken by local newspaper outlets, and our host informed us that evening that we would be featured in several papers throughout the Mainpuri district the following day. Indeed, our names and a picture of the DEM batting Dave's pitch made the front page of the Hindustan Times the next day. Hilarious. They could not have chosen two people more reluctant to be semi celebrities for a day.

We spent a day biking to a nearby lake and bird park in Salman, 20k down the road. Dada joined us on his new bike and arranged our impromptu bus ride home (3 punctures and looming night fall called for it). Mobs of people surrounded when we made a quick stop for lunch in town. We collect large crowds just about everywhere we go outside the cities. Our hosts explained that most of the people in these villages have never seen foreigners before. Between Dave's height and me being a foreign lady on a bike (with my calves showing- gasp!), we attract quite a lot of attention. Everyone is very kind, so it's mostly just a lot of wide-eyed curious (male) faces. We manage to the usual questions about where we are from, where we are going, the number of gears on our bikes, etc. The actual trip to the lake made for a memorable excursion. We and an entourage of Dada's friends were led to a weathered lake side boat half filled with water. My suspicions were correct, and all 15 of us did in fact pile into the not-so lake worthy craft and "set sail" (ok, we moved by bamboo stick thrusts and the water was 3 ft deep). We had many a near capsizing interspersed with laughs with the good humored crowd.

Catch Up

I left Dharamsala on December 17th on an overnight bus to Delhi. And there the adventure pics right back up, as bus travel through the mountainous region was anything but tame. My travel party is now two- my good friend Dave who happens to be 6' 5" and doesn't fit in most buses, planes, doorways, etc. So the two of us had some good laughs bouncing along the curviest highway I've had the recent pleasure of careening down. We returned to the city to get Dave's bike shipment in order (my bike was stored at the 5 star in Delhi and safe for a few more weeks). After few days in backpacker district in Delhi for a few days, we escaped by train to Agra to see the Taj Mahal and the multiple other sites in the area. Train travel went off without a hitch, though we did get scammed at the "government" prepaid taxi stand on our way to Taj Ganj upon our arrival. Nothing major, just a charge for a ride to our destination that ended with us getting dropped off at a gate far from our agreed stop. Other than that, the time spent in Agra was really pretty amazing. We found a great and super cheap family run restaurant that we decided to frequent almost exclusively. Many of the tourist places in the area have rooftops with amazing views of the Taj, so there's no missing out on the view no matter where you go. The list of sites is long, but among the highlights (aside from the Taj) were the Agra Fort, The "Baby" Taj, and Akbar's Mausoleum. The intricate marble inlays of semi precious stone in every imaginable geometric pattern were magnificent. The marble carvings differed based on tradition and age, but were mostly prayers written in Arabic and idyllic scenes- vases, flowers, etc. The southern veiw of the Taj from across the Yarmuna river from the Metab Bhag gardens was also a highlight. I will try to post pictures here, but for some reason that has been a challenge of late.

Back in Delhi, we opted to stay in Manju Ka Teela, a Tibetan enclave away from the city a bit. We had close access to the metro, which is amazingly clean and so much more enjoyable than weaving through city traffic (recent construction has made it particularly bad of late). I retrieved my bike on Christmas day- a big box to open and a bike to assemble spells a perfect way to celebrate! Dave's bike arrived intact a few days later, and after a long and jumbled bureaucratic process at the customs cargo office, he assemble his ride and we prepared to hit the road. His box was also stuffed full of holiday goodies (puffy painted stockings and all!), including two sets of stocking-stuffed battery operated Christmas lights (thank you John and Anne!), one set of which is currently wrapped around Dave's top tube (amazingly hilarious- a party on wheels). After storing our extra baggage in long-term storage (a Trench family connection), we set up a ride out of the clogged roads of Delhi and through the thick morning fog. We were dropped off- bikes, gear and all on the side of the road to Sohna in the state of Haryana to make our way on the eve of 2010.