Never Been There, Never Done That

Valentine's Day at the Jardin

2010-02-14T20:51:00.000-08:00

Brendan and I walked downtown for our daily coconut ice cream and found ourselves in the middle of the Valentine festivities in the Jardin. The park was lined with Valentine vendors all loaded with brightly coloured paper flowers, dolls and sparkly trinkets for the holiday. Confetti filled eggs by the hundreds were sold to children who ran around smashing them on the heads of each other as well as unassuming strangers. Best part was, it was a wee four year old who reached up behind Brendan who was sitting on a park bench and bashed him a good one. His own egg-head was just too tempting a target to resist and so he wore a glittery gold yarmulke for the rest of the day . A Valentine war wound. It was truly a battleground and a delight to watch the egg to head combat.

Here are my two favourite shots of the day.

This little girl took a break from selling Chiclets.

groundcover

I was in photographer's heaven with the flurry of kids racing by me, the joyful sound of crunching eggs all around. I love that Valentine's Day is a family day here, not just lovers' private time. How can you improve a rose? Dip it in blood red glitter. Only in Mexico.

Happy Valentine's Day to you all!

The Secret Ladder

2010-02-13T17:36:00.000-08:00

I returned to the botanical gardens at El Charco with Brendan and we walked my same route, this time stopping to go over and down into the canyon. It was another lovely day, breezy and warm. Here are some shots of the trip down down down...

El Charco

2010-02-13T09:47:00.000-08:00

This week one of my assignments was to take an extended Artist's Date. This is to be a planned time alone to do something new or fun - just to experience the activity rather than have the focus solely on creating. Since my entire time in San Miguel feels like one extended artist's date, I was having trouble coming up with an idea. I felt I had walked through every market, spent time wandering through the Parque Juarez and hanging out in the Jardin. I had gone to a couple of dance classes. I had taken myself for lunch and sketched.

I set out downtown alone with my camera yesterday morning with no agenda. The day was already warm under a cloudless sky and I made my way down to the Jardin where the city was just waking up. I walked aimlessly around and then out of the blue, hopped into a cab and off we went to El Charco - the botanical gardens WAAAAY up the hill. Up up up we wound our way through side streets I had yet to explore. We approached the top on the narrowest street yet, only to find a stalled truck at the top with, of course, no way to navigate around. So back back back we went at a snail-pace in reverse. It took a good five minutes of retracing our journey until we could find a way to get turned around and then we had to take an even steeper detour to get to our destination. I smiled to myself as I got to use my new vocabulary and impress the driver.... ¡Híjole! Que lástima! (what a shame) He agreed.

I got to El Charco by noon and spent two hours walking, sitting, and photographing the incredible botanical conservation preserve. In the middle of the desert, it is truly a magical oasis. Miles of stone-lined pathways through a cactus forest on either side of La Presa - a large reservoir that is home to waterfowl and birds. Even our Gimli white pelicans take their winter vacation here. Hundreds of birds were here but unfortunately took flight as soon as I approached the water's edge.

The path wound down to the reservoir and followed it up to the damn. Not a soul in sight. It was so peaceful away from the sounds of the city... only birdsong and the approaching sound of trickling water. I remembered the video of last week when the damn looked like Niagara Falls and was surprised when I arrived to discover such a tame flow of water. By the way, these cactus "trees" are giant. The other deciduous trees are covered with bromeliads. I wonder if they bloom with orchid-like blossoms later in the spring.

I ventured out to the centre of the damn along a narrow concrete walkway. As close as I'll ever come to walking on water. It was surreal, feeling suspended there at the top of the dam. Somehow I don't think the two wire fence was built to safety code.

It felt WAY more impressive than it looks from this vantage point. My stomach was in my throat as I held on to the wire.

my little dam walkway

I proceeded along the canyon past the "high risk area" sign determined to find the secret ladder that Joanne and I had discovered three years ago. Evidentally there had been a Pancho Villa movie shot here years ago and to get the film crew down into the canyon, they built two steel ladders which have remained there, obviously unadvertised. (If you don't believe me, here it is from 2006 secret ladder)

I found the place where I think the ladder was, but being alone, the "Peligroso" sign scared me off. I had great plans of a solo descent, but I totally chickened out. You have to climb down some rocks to get to the ladder and I just wasn't ready to be a hero alone. I'll bring Brendan back with me and see if he'll be my canyon buddy. Now that I've revisited this place....Joanne, I don't know how we did it with our music and recorders. We were determined... and crazy.

I walked away from the canyon, through more cactus forest and found the gate that let me back into civilization. It was a half hour walk downhill through a very weathly exPat neighbourhood with high walls and elaborate keep out gates. I turned a corner down a narrow path and immediately felt more at home with narrower streets offering friendly passersby and photo ops.

I ended ambling back through downtown. A wonderful Artist's Date.

P.S. Someone else had a date that day, too. Only in Mexico could you stop for a taco on your way down the aisle.

Guanajuato

2010-02-12T08:30:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Brendan and I celebrated the sunny skies by hopping a bus and travelling an hour and a half to Guanajuato, a neighbouring city steeped in history, colour and sheer liveliness. We arrived by noon, cabbed it downtown through underground tunnels and emerged at their Jardin in the Centro. Founded by Spanish conquistadors in the 16th century, silver was discovered here a few decades later. By the 18th century, Guanajuato and the surrounding silver mines were THE leading suppliers of silver in the world. It's also the birthplace of Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo's hooligan husband. It's a magical place, now a university town with the craziest maze of the narrowest streets you can imagine. And the entire downtown area is off limits to traffic. Everyone parks underground in the refurbished mining tunnels and takes to stumbling along the cobblestones above.

They're very hospitable here... this sign welcomed us as we got out of the cab.

After stopping to listen to a few Sousa marches by a local band in the Jardin, we hoofed it down to the Hildago Market.... a gigantic mecca for tourists and locals where booths were overflowing with souvenirs, food stuffs, and endless tchatckas.

walking down to the market

Hildago Market - 7 days a weeks since 1910

peck of peppers

The rest of the day was spent walking and eating sugar. Two stops at a candy store, gelati in the street and a double dose of churros had me feeling like I had just come off a high school date to the Red River Ex.

candy shop sign. How could we resist? The sweets haven't hurt Catrina's teeth.

a maze of narrow streets. Remember this Leslie?

a quilt in the making, methinks.

The weather was absolutely perfect - such a gift after the torrential rains of the previous week. We hopped the 6 pm bus, walked an hour from the bus station (just in case we hadn't walked enough that day) and were home in time for leftovers and trashy TV. All in all a great day.

I was much more prolific and inspired to take pictures when I had visited here before. My 2006 pictures of Guanajuato are posted on Webshots. here - Guanajuato 2006 and here - Guanajuato Market 2006

Rain Rain...

2010-02-10T07:53:00.000-08:00

It was a LONG week, trying to honour my Artist's Way assignment and stay off the internet and not read. "Reading Deprivation" is supposed to create a desire to write, take in, photograph, sketch... but instead it just left me feeling very grumpy. Poor Brendan. He endured storm clouds both inside and out. Who knew a week without reading emails and playing my daily Facebook scrabble games would create such a monster in me.

The weather didn't help as we only went outside to go to our classes. The empty bucket in our yard filled in 5 days - an unbelievable 8.5". In these mountains, this also meant the dry-as-a-bone riverbed was now a raging river of biblical proportions within hours. Someone came into our Spanish class last Thursday and announced that we should go straight home as they were closing all bridges within an hour. I raced out in the torrential rain trying to find a cab, thinking that I would be trapped downtown and not be able to get home as we live on the other side of the river. As it turned out, the bridges up by me never closed, although police were standing by and monitoring the situation closely. Brendan and I walked down to go for a pizza that night and we could here the river's roar from our front door 4 blocks away. The water had risen some 15 feet in one day and was close to breaching its banks in the lower market area of town. One bridge apparently was taken out. It was surreal standing and watching the rushing water where it had been a dry riverbed only a few days earlier. It put things in perspective, me complaining about the cold and the wet and then realizing how people's homes were in danger and so many didn't have the luxury of a propane heater to cuddle around.

This is what was happening downtown Thursday Feb. 4 afternoon....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4sE7MP3dUE&feature=related

this is the canal where I walked to get my cab....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcIW6orp2bk&feature=related

A few hours before the peak

The next morning

Leslie emailed me this YouTube video of what was happening up at La Presa, the desert canyon where Joanne and I climbed down to the trickling stream a few years ago.

La Presa, San Miguel de Allende Feb 2010

Friday, it was all a memory. People were hustling downtown, the market was in full swing and the streets were dry. The sun shone in the middle of a cloudless sky and life was back to normal. Needless to say we've greatly welcomed the weekend. Warm sunny days and even sunnier now that I'm back online. We took a bus to the beautiful city of Guanajuato. I'll post pics of that soon. We have another week of rain scheduled to start today, so I'll have time to catch up on my posts.

The Blessing of the Poodles

2010-02-01T09:43:00.000-08:00

For me, nothing can compare to January 17, St. Anthony the Abbott Day - the day the animals go to church to get blessed. St. Anthony, a desert hermit who acquired a pig to force him to hold fast on his virtuous path and resist temptaion is honoured on this day. It was a favourite San Miguel memory from my last visit and I couldn't wait to return on this special day this year.

My batteries were charged (both personal and camera) as I leapt at the opportunity to capture people and their pets as they accompanied them to church for their special blessing. It's also a time where I don't feel as intrusive taking photos of people as they seemed more than happy to pose with their loved ones. Household pets, farm animals stood crowded in the courtyard of the Oratorio.

Bat Dog

Half-bat Dog

bunny parking

This family had with them a turtle, a budgie, two dogs and a cat

Only thing missing were Queso and Oscar. They would have loved to have been blessed along with all the socializing that went with it.

I think some of my favourite shots I've ever taken were from that day in 2007. You can see them at http://travel.webshots.com/album/557077187gNPmTg

It's rainy and miserable today, so I will crank the propane heater and hunker down to Spanish homework. Thanks for stopping by. I understand the deep freeze is upon you back in Canada. Hope things warm up for you all at home!

Rainy Day Catch-up

2010-01-31T16:14:00.000-08:00

We have just returned from our walk downtown - for Brendan's daily coconut gelati and my fix of picture-taking. Unfortunately only half of our goals were achieved. Post-gelati we made our way to Parque Juarez for Candelaria. Imagine acres of green park and walkways now filled with potted flowers and plants. Local gardeners set up shop filling their booths with wall to wall flowers - all in celebration of Candelaria. What makes it so amazing is that all plants have been forced into bloom for this special week. Rainbows of spring primroses alongside fully blooming amaryllis, fall blooming mums and summer daisies. It's a riot of colour and PACKED with people carrying home pots of blooms. As we walked down to the park, the skies became instantly dark and the thermometre began to plummet. By the time we were walking amidst the crowds, thunder and rain hit and our new goal now became trying to find a taxi home. We, and about a thousand other people in downtown San Miguel had the same plan.

Making your way uphill on the cobblestone sidewalks is difficult enough. As one looks down trying to avoid slipping on wet stone and breaking an ankle on the 18" curbs, one forgets a new hazard. The dreaded drainspout. Gargoyles from rooftops were now spewing water off the roofs and we constantly were dumped on by these rude beasts. As far as catching a cab, we made our way to the central Jardin where we and hundreds of our closest friends had the same thing in mind. Every taxi in San Miguel was in use and we finally decided that we could get no colder nor wetter by simply walking home.

Needless to say, I'm happy as a wet clam as I now sit in our dry casa with a glass of wine and my laptop, bundled in a warm and dry sweater. Also pretty thankful that Brendan took in the laundry on the line before we left the house today.

Since my camera is empty, save the one street shot above, I'll take the time to post some shots of what it's like here on a sunny day.

We live in Informatif de Allende, between the neighbourhoods of Guadalupe and Mexiquito. It's a half hour walk downtown.

That's it for today. We're going to puddle-jump our way to Gombo's pizza for supper tonight. Next installment will be the Blessing of the Poodles which took place a few weeks ago. It deserves an entry unto itself.

San Miguel de Allende

2010-01-28T07:41:00.000-08:00

Now. I remind myself that I only have this moment and my choice how to spend it. This is my third week in San Miguel and my intention of keeping an updated blog has been joyfully surpassed with the flurry that is my daily schedule. My calendar fills up with long walks, photo dates along this roller coaster of cobblestones, Spanish classes, dining out and about with Brendan and my favourite activity - a weekly meeting with a group that is working through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way program. In the mid 90's I bought the book and plodded through the beginning exercises, hoping to invite creativity in my life. This was a precursor to the pile of journals I've kept since, and the opening to much personal reflective creative work. But living alone in Sandy Hook did not hold the camaraderie and encouraging dynamic that a group holds. Our fearless leader, Joseph Bennett guides us through the exercises, I diligently write three daily pages of stream of conscious "Morning Pages" and plan at least one fun activity called an "artist's date" with myself each week.

This week's task was to set a small goal and achieve it and mine was to update this blog and post pictures to those who are not on Facebook. Each morning I sit here in the sun on our lovely patio checking in with the progress of Leslie's limes on the tree, writing in my scribbler and sketching my surroundings. The mornings are just chilly enough that when the sun finally comes over the wall, it warms me through and I can throughly enjoy the morning moment. In the evening, I return and sit here with a glass of wine and never a day goes that I'm not deeply grateful for the opportunity to revisit this graceful, beautiful city.

Here are a few of my favourite images from downtown walks I've taken alone and with Brendan over the past three weeks.

Under perfectly pruned fig trees in the centro is the Jardin - a meeting place where time stops for both tourists and locals, balloon men, marching bands, families, young lovers and artists, shoe-shiners, ice cream vendors and women selling dried flowers under arches. It faces the Parroquia, the rosey fairytale church that is the visual signature to this colonial city.

The first day we arrived, I took Brendan on my favourite walk - half hour up a steep hill stepping up and down 18" curbs and filling our lungs with diesel fumes until we reached the lookout where we sat and rested.

Look for the next instalment soon. I do love keeping a journal of our travels and I'm now committed myself to taking the time to post at least a few words and images every few days.

The Beach

2010-01-24T14:46:00.000-08:00

January 15, 2010

Today is the day I begin to catch up on our travels to date and start this decade's blog. The weather has finally changed and stormy cold skies seem long gone, after a few hot days here in the mountains. We are in our beautiful rented home in San Miguel de Allende, but started out the New Year landing in Puerto Vallarta. I had plans to take the week between Christmas and New Year's and drive down solo (well, with Queso the Wonder Dog), but snagging $79 flights to PV tipped the scales. Hard to believe Brendan and I left Winnipeg at 7 a.m. Dec. 30th and were playing paddle ball on the beach by 2 that afternoon. We spent the first 4 days at the beach before venturing into the cooler dry mountain climate.

A+ on accomodations. We had found a beachside hotel and a beer for each of us.

To bring in the New Decade, we sat on the patio of our beachside hotel, sipping a glass of snitched champagne from a private party around the pool, then walking the blue moonlit beach. At midnight we joined a bonfire on the beach, lit gigantic sparklers as the waves lapped our ankles while 8 sets of fireworks exploded all along the bay, from Puerto Vallarta to La Cruz. It was indeed the best New Year's I've ever spent. We giggled like school kids and I felt such a sense of belonging in this great world.

On New Year's Day we moved north to Rincon de Guayabitos and by some divine intervention, I managed to find us a bungalow just across the street from the beach. It was the last weekend of high season and everyone in Mexico seemed to be holidaying on the Rincon beach. It was indeed a bloody miracle we found a place, let alone a reasonably priced one. And the best part was it's name... Bungalows San Miguel. Serendipity?

We walked for miles one direction, then the next day, the other. One night we strolled past a trailer park on the beach and Brendan remembered that his neighbours spend their winters in Guyabitos. What a long shot. I waited doubtfully as he walked through the gates and came back moments later. "Yep they're here". So the next two days we spent with Jamie and Laura Saunders. Of all chances - wining and dining with people from Coney Island.

On our beach walks we decided there were three groups of people. The diggers and bury-ers, the wave crashers (with or without inflatables) and those who sit and become beachglass... sitting at the shoreline getting lapped by the waves over and over and over again.

It wouldn't be a holiday without me getting a good bout of la turista. Might as well get it over with at the start. I was laid up in bed for a day, recovering just in time to get on a bus and start the 13 hour ride to San Miguel. It's all a memory now as we are settled into our casa at 10 Campanario, SMA. More words and images to come. I've posted all my pics on Facebook if you are itching for a preview.

All a Memory

2009-01-23T04:49:00.000-08:00

Our hearts were so warmed by the hospitality of Christian and Begoña in Palma. Thank you both for your generosity and making us feel so at home at your place. A highlight of the trip was the grand finale of our week - The day before we left for the mainland, our hosts took us on a ride around Palma harbour in their Zodiac looking up at the gigantic yachts (Brendan promises to write about this so I won't give you any details... unbelievable!), then off to a favourite restaurant in the country where we had a mid-afternoon feast, then to the highest point in Mallorca - a little monastery overlooking the island where this picture was taken of us as the sun was going down.

Yes, there was no turning back to vegetarianism once I tried that Mallorcan special soup... escargot, rabbit, beef, suckling pig and whatever's left in the kitchen. It was the richest soup I've ever had. That bowl was a serving for two and was served after we had a whole main course meal. Supersize me.

It's early morning, windchill -37C and I'm sitting in front of the woodstove here on Prout Road, curly dog at my feet and reflecting on our whirlwind three weeks in Spain. A challenge much of the time, but lessons offered me every day. I will always remember the spectacular landscapes, that incredible turquoise crystal clear water, gorgeous architecture and the sense of the sheer magnitude of world history itself. Seasoned always by Brendan's top shelf humour, I laughed my way around the Iberian Peninsula while strolling down medieval streets, standing on ancient cliffs, walking the harbours filled with giant luxury yachts. There was such a mixture of experiences, I'm left feeling a bit disconnected now that I'm home. It certainly had a different feel from our Asian Adventure 2008. I held expectations that Europe would be easy-peasy compared to the wild wild eastern adventure of Thailand and Nepal last winter. Instead, this trip was surprisingly challenging. Travelling in off-season, despite the constant nasty weather, had a sort of empty energy. People seemed kind of hunkered down for the winter. Every beach community we visited was completely shut down, so there was a sort of other-worldliness to these Mediterranean Ghost Towns. Along the coasts and throughout rural Mallorca, gigantic hotels and fancy restaurants were all boarded up, a smattering of parked cars peppered city streets, not a public washrooom anywhere and not many locals out and about.

We left Granada on January 16 and had three full days before we were to take the train from Valencia back to Barcelona to fly home on the 20th. We chose a highway and pointed the little red rental in the direction of Murcia and am I glad we did. It turned out to be a great spot to change gears from travel to homecoming. What a beautiful old city - a university town with the usual narrow streets and their gigantic token cathedral. We stayed in a less-than-great hostel for 45Euro/night and turned up our noses at the 12Euro calamari at the café.

But there were many things that were gratis. I sat with my morning coffee in the town square watching the Bubble Guy taunt youngsters with his temporary giants. Nothing like kids and bubbles.

old tree roots is something that has always stirred my heart. I could fill my camera with images of these old guys with their feet clingling to the pavement.

our last walk along a seaside promenade in Alicante.

and our last view of the Mediterranean from a picnic lunch. (Also our last chick pea and cheese sandwich.)

Granada

2009-01-20T00:25:00.000-08:00

This was the highlight of our trip. All the rain, the expense, the trials.... EVERYTHING was worth the day we spent at Alhambra, Granada. Although my world travel is limited, I still got a sense that there is absolutely nothing like this on the planet. It is a walled Moorish city of palaces, watchtowers, gardens and walkways. Downtown Granada is also home to a spectacular cathedral which was the icing on the cake as we walked back down the mountain from Alhambra in the late afternoon and popped in for a look. I'm at the Barcelona airport right night needing to send a few emails and paying 5 Euro for 1/2 hour, so I will just post the Alhambra pictures on my leftover time here and save the rest of the trip til later - posted from my laptop while sitting happily in front of the woodburning stove with my feet on top of a happy sleeping dog. Our flight leaves in an hour. Oh, Canada! I'm clicking my heels, "There's no place like home".
Brendan's secret back door.

a Moorish telepost in the Lions' Court

view from the Alcazaba fortress

view of downtown Granada, cathedral in the centre

endless archways in the Lions Court

from far

from close up

brought to you by.... ugh. I always preferred Pepsi.

Córdoba

2009-01-18T23:55:00.000-08:00

The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain. Ha. I'm sure a satellite map of our trail across the mountains of spain would show a thick black cloud following our path. Sometimes there is a little patch of blue that comes poking through the clouds and gives you hope that things will clear up. A friend of mine once called it a "sucker patch" because it suckers you into believing the weather will improve. Well, there was not even a sucker patch within 200 miles of us for days on end.

This was our first introduction to rushhour in a medieval Spanish town. The narrowest of streets all one-ways going the way you don't want to go. Even my navigation skills and Brendan's grand prix driving couldn't help us. He parked for 1 minute while we both ran out to check different hotels and when we had returned, there was an angry bus driver and a trail of Córdobans waving their fists. The bus had tried to get by us and B. couldn't even get in his driver's door, so I plunged in from the passenger side and off we went. Miraculously, we found a riverside hotel room with promise of a nice meal and a warm bed.

Our hotel room #201 in Córdoba was cozy and quaint (which means barely room to walk around the bed), and the heater which blew luke warm air at the top of the 10 ft. ceiling only began to warm the marble tile floor in room #301 after our 2 day stay. Our clothes were soaked and would not dry as the humidity ran down the windows. We shivered as we ate a gourmet picnic spread out on a towel on the bed which Brendan prepared in our tiny bathroom. A dish called "Chicken in the Sink".... a delicacy served with a chick pea sandwich, wine, olives and cheeese with a side of soggy canned asparagus for good measure. We were not the happiest of campers but I wouldn't have traded that dinner for any white table clothed meal at any of the fine restaurants in town. Our tiny room was $100 Cnd/night and we flipped back and forth from feeling like we were being held hostage by the weather and our grim outlooks to falling into fits of hysterical laughter at our whole European tour.

In the end, Spain won. We changed our minds about spending the two months here. Sorry, Portugal we'll have to catch you another time. We decided to come home sunny Manitoba where windchills were reported to be -51C. The next day we toured the cathedral of Córdoba - La Mesquita.

This place was so impressive. It began as a Christian Visigoth church in 600 A.D., then Muslims transformed it into the second largest Mosque in the world over the next couple hundred years. The Catholics came in and built a cathedral inside the mosque, so it is an amazing hodgepodge of religious architecture. Islamic arches and tilework, Roman Catholic icons and Spanish Renaissance details. It was very dark in there, so I only got a few shots.

I'll post one more time about the next few days in Granada. UNBELIEVABLE. Stay tuned for the palace to end all palaces... Alhambra.

PS. The only place we found with heat in all of Córdoba was the Gallery of Medieval Torture. How appropriate... niños gratis. I lasted about 5 minutes in there. Despite the warmth, I chose a walk in the rain.

Cala Mondragó

2009-01-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, this was the most spectacular walk I've ever been on in my life. We drove to the eastern coast of the island, less than an hour from Palma. Here the road narrowed and we drove along endless stone walls, huge windmills and grids of almond trees. This was the first real sunny day we've had and we jumped at the chance to return for another glimpse of that unbelievably clear bluegreen sea, this time in sunlight instead of rain. Brendan had visited here a dozen years ago and by chance we entered down a windy road and chose the exact path through the forest he had walked before, finding ourselves having a picnic on the same cliff he had held in his memory as one of the most beautiful places he had ever encountered. What a treat every moment of this day was!

Cala Figuera

2009-01-10T15:51:00.000-08:00

Christian and Begoñia took us for a great day trip to venture along the southeastern coast of the island. Every place we stopped was prettier than the last. We had our picnic lunch on the docks of Cala Figuera where we walked all around the inlet at the water's edge hopping from dock to dock. It's so strange to be here at this time of year. All hotels and apartments are closed up for the winter and vitrually no one is out on the streets. So this picturesque little ghost town was ours to explore.

It kind of made me homesick for Gimli

Photos can't capture this unbelievably clear aquamarine water. We're waiting for the sun to shine to really dazzle us.

I'd live here in a second. It was like a little Venice.

Cap Formentor

2009-01-10T14:28:00.000-08:00

Before I go further, it's time to tell the bitter truth. Although we have no right to complain about the weather while our loved ones are suffering at home through another heartless prairie winter, we are definitely cold and enduring some pretty miserable weather. We're getting used to seeing the sights through windshield wipers. High humidity and 5C makes for Brendan cranking the heat in the car and me thankful for my long underwear.

Cap Formentor is located in the northwestern corner of the island of Mallorca. It was an incredibly cold and blustery day as we climbed up the mountain along another windy narrow road northwest of the Pollenca. High winds pushed the rain horizontally around us on the cape and seemed suitable accessory to the rugged coastline. As I stood on the lookout, I held on tightly as I felt the uncomfortable push of the wind encouraging me to take the 600+ ft. first step into the sea.

We climbed to the top of a medieval watchtower. That's where we were definitely on top of the world. After days of solid rain, the clouds broke and we delighted in the spectacular vista.

Sa Colobra

2009-01-10T13:07:00.000-08:00

Never have I seen a road like this, let alone venture down into the bowels of a mountain like we did that afternoon. Our little rental car was swallowed by this winding cobra. It snaked in and out of the angriest looking mountains for miles until its tail finally dipped into the Mediterranean in the village of Sa Colobra. This road was unbelievable, the pictures hardly doing it justice.

Mallorca

2009-01-09T13:24:00.001-08:00

Our hosts Christian and Begoñia have so graciously rolled out the red carpet and shown us around their magical island all week. Christian was away in Barcelona when we arrived, so Begoñia took us under her wing - picking us up at the airport and taking us for a walking tour of downtown Palma where we stopped at a neighbourhood bar for a beer and pintxoas - the Mallorcan version of tapas. Delicious snacks for the weary travellers we were. The next day, she and their pit bull Titán took us on a road trip to the coast where we maneuvered through narrow village streets, walked up to a gorgeous hilltop cemetery and spent the day in this rugged country paradise.

old old olive trees everywhere you look

Titán our travelguide

Oh my GAUDI!

2009-01-06T02:58:00.000-08:00

Where oh where do I begin? Bringing in the New Year, fast asleep, drooling on my Air Canada pillow on a flight somewhere over the Atlantic... watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona at 4 a.m on the screen in front of me the perfect prelude to our arrival in Spain... trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I'll be taking in this amazing city within hours.

We landed in Barcelona on New Year's Day and made our way on the train to the resort town of Sitges, 40 km's outside of the city. Of course it was a comedy of errors getting to the right place. Following the trainride, we grabbed a bus which took us 4 kms up the coast to the Subur Hotel. We waved thanks to our driver who dropped us off, hiked into the lobby, only to find out it was the WRONG Subur Hotel. So, we had to take our backpacks for a walk all the way back to Sitges along the promenade where we found our hotel. (Of ourse the right hotel was just down the road from the train station where we started this charade) By this time, patience was at a premium, but we were too jetlagged to even complain, being soooo grateful to fall into our beds.

The next day we hiked all over Barcelona (I had the shin splints to prove it), dazzled by the Gaudi architecture. Here are some photos of our first day in Spain.

We ended the evening walking along the harbour and then finding ourselves in the nightclub district of La Ramblas. Streetperformers included elaborately costumed and made-up statue-like figures who would come to life for a photograph and then once again turn to stone. Competition was stiff between these characters ranging from a winged gargoyle a la Hunchback of Notre Dame, and a man sitting on a toilet, straining as he smiled for the cameras.

Here are a few shots of Sitges and the detail in the architecture. Every doorway had little carvings in the frames.

Til Next Time

2008-03-25T03:24:00.000-07:00

March 25, 2008

This month was absolutely unforgettable and indeed life-changing. I would return in a heartbeat and be totally comfortable travelling alone in Thailand. It was so magical and felt easy compared to the intensity of Kathmandu and the majesty of those Himalayas. In Nepal, the volume of everything was cranked to 10 - the visual, emotional, the spiritual and the political. I can't believe I actually began to get used to the daily blackouts, the incessant horns and barking dogs, the insane traffic on impossibly narrow streets that were meant for pedestrians and rickshaws, not a million motorcycles, vans, busses and cars. I wish I had experienced Nepal in the hippie days of pie houses and love and peace. Right now the Maoists are jockeying for position and there's both a fragility and tension throughout the city.

So I'll close this off now as my bus for the BKK airport is about to depart. Thanks everyone who kept in touch. I'll be seeing you very soon. I'll leave you with some final images.

our wonderful new friends the "Waffles" (Nikki and Alain)

shopping in Thamel at 7pm

a million prayer flags

layers and layers of people

Kopan Monastery

2008-03-24T20:55:00.001-07:00

March 22, 2008

For the first time in a month, Brendan and I went separate ways for the afternoon... this was only to avoid attempted murder on both our parts. It's been a bloody miracle we've managed to go a month 24/7 so to take a few hours respite was actually a new experience. We each chose stillness - he on the rooftop terrace of our hotel with a beer and a book and me off to the Kopan Monastery, a large buddhist retreat. http://www.kopan-monastery.com/about.html

The night before we had met a couple of women from the UK who were beginning a 10-day retreat there and asked if I wanted to share a cab. So at the last minute, I met them and we took off for an hour cab ride... oh yeah.. the bumpiest one to date. A large sign greeted us at the gate which included the words "Please no killing". I was glad Brendan and I were not here together as I don't think they would have let us in together.

I walked around the grounds for an hour, into the temple, mosied around their large bookstore and then slowly made my way up to the top of the lookout hill where I sat. On the walk to the hill were three sections of a stone wall housing these words:

" Like dew on the tip of a blade of grass, pleasures of the three worlds last only a while and then vanish. Aspire to the never changing supreme state of liberation. This is the practice of the Bodhisattvas."

"While the enemy of your own anger is unsubdued, though you conquer external foes, they will only increase. Therefore, with the militia of love and compassion subdue your own mind."

and finally, what I totally needed to hear that afternoon, "Why be unhappy about something if it can be remedied? And what is the use of being unhappy about something that cannot be rememdied?"

It was quite busy there and surprisingly noisy, home to 360 monks dressed in their dark burgundy robes tending the gardens, local families on picnics and tourists wandering out and about. After about half an hour I heard a whisle over my head. Trying to stay focussed on my breath, I kind of let the sound come and go but it was insistent. I opened my eyes to take note of who was blowing the whistle and came eye to eye with a temple security guard standing over me, waving a billy club in gesture for me to get out. They were clearng the park for 5 pm prayers and we all had to leave the site. I laughed at myself. For once I was able to sit still and leave the world behind and I had to find somewhere else to do that. All the families were already walking down the stairs and I hadn't noticed that I was the only one left up there. what a hoot.

Anyway, the day was totally turned around. I returned to the hotel in a great mood and Brendan and I planned how we'd spend our last day, Easter Sunday in Kathmandu.

look who took the Pepsi Challenge

Wholly Holy Holi

2008-03-24T19:53:00.000-07:00

I was going to leave this post for Brendan, but he's now on a two-week trek up to base camp of Everest and I'm here in Bangkok passing time and wanted to share my experience.

March 22, 2008

We flew out of Pokhara after breakfast of lemon/sugar pancakes. We opted for a 25 minute flight in lieu of a 6hr busride. As it turned out, there were a couple of serious accidents on the highway and the bus was delayed - at a standstill for 90 minutes enroute to Kathmandu as they cleared another bus hanging from the mountain side. yikes. Ram picked us up at the airport and we headed out to Kakani where the Thai Airways memorial site is home to Duncan Norrie's namestone. Duncan was married to Brendan's cousin Sheila and was killed tragically in a plane crash.

Today was Good Friday for much of the world, but here it was Holi - a secular Festival of Colour where passerbys are targets for plastic baggie bombs filled with paint and water, or a friendly smash in the noggin with powdered dyes and paints. That's why I got hit a couple times last week... the kids were practicing up for this day of play. Ram's face was bright red as he laughed and said his buddies had surprised him first thing in the morning. It was absolute insanity a la a West Side Story gang street fight. Groups of people raced up and down the surprisingly EMPTY streets. Kids hung from balconies overhead waiting for their victims. Everything was shut down - restaurants, shops and most surprisingly for once there was no traffic. Anyone out walking in the streets were drenched, painted - mostly red, although there were numerous metallic painted faces walking by. Armed with their coloured weapons everyone took careful aim. A taxi's open window was prime target and since it was so hot, we would put to the test the speed of window-cranking with the velocity of the hurled coloured baggie. Yes Doug, Brendan has taught me PV=nRT and Q=AV so I can now suitably calculate the speed and flow of a baggie catapulted toward me in just enough time to duck out of the way.

Out of town, the little road turned into another tiny one. God, I'm sick of bumpy rides. We could have walked the last 4.5 kms faster than our car could take the bumps and boulders. It was 45 kms and we took about 90 minutes to get to Kakani. All the way there our cab dodged the water bombers. Ram got hit broadside and Brendan took a good one which appeared out of nowhere. It was pretty fun. We arrived there to find the youth of the village out in full sopping colours, arms cocked and ready to hurl. we got out of the car and miraculously they smiled and cheered, "Happy Holi" and only feigned throwing the bags at us.

We walked through the town and followed these kids up to the memorial site. A rock garden on the top of a mountain, green wellkept lawn and a spectacular view. And there at the top was the wall. 99 passengers and 14 crew lost their lives July 31, 1992 when Flight 311 failed to land and crashed into the side of mountainside. There was his name, Duncan Chuck William Norrie. Laughing children were running, splashing and celebrating all around us as Brendan opened his baggie. This one, filled with Coney Island sand was emptied into a little nook in the wall directly under Duncan's name. A little bit of home and family brought to Nepal in his memory. Our lives here on earth are but a fragile whisper.

Bandipur

2008-03-24T07:53:00.001-07:00

March 20, 2008

Well, I'm back in the Land of the Living thanks to the miracle of Ciprofloxicin. I had a return engagement of food poisoning even worse than the night before we left Chiang Mai. That was almost two weeks ago and since then I've fought a general malaise and daily boomer headache til it all came to a head a few nights ago. Once again, I enjoyed a night on our bathroom floor, making a nest in a mildewed comforter as I was too weak to take the long journey from bed to toilet. So, it was definitely time to pull out the big guns with a heavy duty antibiotic.

So much to experience and remember in this strange and foreign land. On my morning cappuccino run, I encounter so many beautiful smiley children playing in the streets (one this a.m. playing Olympic hacky sack with a small bag of garbage), wrinkled faces greeting me with "Namaste" as I pass, and backlit profiles of people bent over sweeping the streets carefully with handle-less brooms and doing their daily chores in preparation for opening their shops. I woke up feeling 100% for the first time in almost 2 weeks, so I suggested a motorcycle trip back to Bandipur, the little medieval village up the mountain. Forgetting how long it takes to go 60 kms and how bumpy crazy that highway was, we set off. No lanes through and around the city roads. Once out of town on the highway, you're more often than not driving head-on into 2 cars, one passing the other with absolutely no heed of oncoming traffic. Then add into the mix, black diesel fumes spewing out of every one of the 1000 trucks we passed. It definitely dictated one's breathing pattern. Hold breath, then pass.

We were running on the reserve tank, but only had to stop at two stations before we found one that sold petrol. Brendan went to fill up as I tried to glean directions from some local kids. I realize now after uploading the pictures that no wonder they wouldn't take me seriously wearing that blasted helmet. After finally getting a straight answer, (I think they wanted cash) I turned around to see the gas station attendant carrying out a dripping bottle of gasoline and slurping it into the tank. Yes, they had gas, but the electricity was off til 5 pm. Luckily he had 4 litres in Pepsi bottles in case of emergency.

Back on track we got on the right road and once again wended our way up that curly magical driveway up the mountain. I say driveway because the road is smoothly paved, but barely wide enough for two cars to carefully pass. It was 8 kms straight up and our old "Enticer" rental was not a happy camper, and neither was I after sitting on my bony bum for already 2.5 hours. Again, a step into the past. We were greeted by young and old as we walked the streets of this remote and ancient village. It really has the feeling of a Peter Bruegel (sp?) painting or maybe a movie set - the buildings with neoclassical facades on the shuttered buildings and slated rooftops. We stopped for lunch at a little café, chatted with the waitress practicing my counting to 5 in Nepali and played a game of backgammon (our little magnetic board is racking up the travel points).

The first half of the ride home was perfect. With engine off we coasted down the mountain, school children chasing after us, smiling and yelling hello. On the way up, we had passed a woman hunkered down with chisel in her hand making GRAVEL and she was in exactly the same position 2 hours later when we waved goodbye. Past mud huts with slate roofs, along stone fenced drainage ditches, past a group of women loading bricks into baskets which they carried up the mountain. We passed countless people with the heaviest of loads. A truck passed us carrying a bunch of rebar and Brendan commented, "Couldn't they just get some people to run that stuff up the mountain?" The rice fields were a muddy mess, but every so often workers would be crouched in brilliant Wizard of Oz emerald section picking the ripe crop. Seeing people work so hard, I couldn't complain about my sore bottom, or the gusting winds which soon brought torrential rain, which turned into hail then the chain of a million potholes and cruel bumps that whiplashed us home to Pokhara. An allround great day. Here are some images.

fill 'er up

entering Bandipur

downtown Bandipur

The Bandipur 7-11

kids slowly paced back and forth reciting evening prayers on the rooftops

gravel-making

brilliant green rice fields

Ducky rides again

A Week in Pokhara

2008-03-24T03:46:00.000-07:00

March 14, 2008
Every entry in my journal begins with "I can't begin to describe..." or "there are no words for..." or "I can't believe..." but again I start this entry with similar sentiment. Yesterday was a day of miracles, of coincidences, of spectacle, of painfully beautiful simplicity, of laughter and high spirits and again strikingly intense experience.

We awoke in the chaos of Kathmandu and fell asleep in the peaceful city of Pokhara. We travelled 11 hours covering a whopping 216 kms - through endless curves, absolutely insane drivers passing, honking, zipping in and out, trying to jockey for position up the mountain. What really surprised me was that this was farmland the entire trip through the mountains. Thousands of ancient terraced farms - narrow row above row of terraces which made for huge isotope-stripes up up up. Rings Around the Mountain.

Brendan again gets credit for noticing a handwritten poster and grabbing the opportunity and we linked up with a woman (from Saltspring Island, no less) who had hired a cab driver - our new Nepali tourguide, Ram who cradled us all the way along the unforgiving serpent of the Privthi Highway. Natalie, a jewellery importer and Brendan found they shared some dear friends from Wpg Folk Fest HMV and a passion for Michael Franti music. So, as we escaped from Kathmandu, Brendan got to listen to his favourite tunes from her little iPod speakers.... a perfect soundtrack for our corkscrew journey.

Having Ram able to pay tolls, ask directions and phone ahead and make hotel reservations was indeed a gift. A 25 yr old gentle soul, an arranged marriage at 15, 18 month-old baby, living with his family outside of Kathmandu, but working 7 days a weeks in the city doing a dozen different jobs. He went about and beyond opening doors for us, made sure we watched our step through doorways, and took care of us as if we were precious cargo. A kinder man we couldn't have hoped to meet.

from suspension bridge

We made two stops on the way to Pokhara. One to cross a 300 ft suspension bridge across the Trisuli River and then about an hour out of Pokhara, we turned off the main highway (I use the term loosely) and made our way up the mountain to Bandipur. This little detour quickly became one of the highlights of my trip, so I will save a blog entry just for it.

Pokhara is definitely the Lake Louise of Nepal. A laid back Lakefront tourist area with hippies, trekkers, travellers and locals. A great feel - I was even at ease walking in the darkness after electricity hours.

yak parking

a constant gardener

poinsetta tree

tranquil mornings

temple on the island across lake
March 16, 2008
Yesterday we rented a motorcycle and began our usual comedy of errors to find our way out of town. We were headed up to the temple of Sangrikot.

Because I have such a little pea-sized head, this was the second kiddy helmet on this trip. The first was "Pinky" and now, "Ducky".

This time we set out unusually cocky as the white-capped Annapurnas were such an obvious landmark we were certain to keep our bearings. This is getting to be a ritual of ours and once again we ended up NOT where we wanted to be - in the middle of downtown Pokhara in heavy traffic. It took us an hour of trying to find the little road that went up and not out of town. We stopped and asked a man outside his shop and before we knew it, Brendan was standing out of the way waiting as now 5 men stood around the map like guys looking under the hood of a Ford truck engine. It was clear they had knew exactly where we wanted to go, but maybe had never seen a map of the area, so could only point in the general direction, not show us on paper. We finally found the right road and drove as far as the bike could take us and then huffed and puffed for another 45 minutes til we got to the top.

typical hillside yard

Passing many children on the way, they each asked "Where are you going?" As if there was anywhere else we were headed. Once, Brendan replied, "Churchill". They would ask for candy, or pens and we were sorry we hadn't filled our pockets with Bics.

We stopped for lunch at the top at a great restaurant with a marvelous view. Best vegetable pakoras so far. Behind us were the whitecapped Annapurna range but today they were covered in their usual cloud. As we ate, paragliders took off right below us and we watched them follow the paths of soaring eagles to find the warm thermals which carried their sails quickly upwards. We followed a more direct path down to our motorcycle
.
lunchtime view

Bhopped the wall and took the high road (climbing straight down) and I tripped along a little path where I met a little boy. I expected the usual request for candy, but he surprised me. "Hello, what's your name? Can you give me a computer?" Back on the bike, we coasted the whole way down, only turning on the engine when we were back in town.

Here are some random Pokhara images

pashmina passion

view from Hotel #2

view from hotel #3

Every day of this trip has brought a pithy experience, some forgettable frustration, a huge laugh, a breathtakingly beautiful image or a heavy sigh.

The Night Train II (Chiang Mai to Bangkok)

2008-03-21T07:54:00.000-07:00

I'm totally backtracking to pre-Nepal, but thought I'd post some more pics since my card reader is working and I'm killing time in airconditioning in Bangkok enroute home. What a trip it's been.

March 10,2008

After spending a night on our Chiang Mai bathroom floor alternating with my head in the toilet (my first of what has become an ongoing saga), we took a tuk tuk to the train station and boarded the overnight train (this time, no room on the first class air conditioned one). Let's just say this 15 hour trip wasn't quite as romantic as our first. Here are the images of our ride.

Tuk Tuk ride to train.

pulling out of the station

across the aisle from me

Bangkok train station, 5:30 a.m.zero sleep, zero food in belly, and zero tolerance for Brendan's jokes.

Canine Cocaine

2008-03-21T07:23:00.000-07:00

No images for this one, just a story....

The dogs in Pokhara have collars look far happier and healthier than the scrawny mangy ones in Kathmandu. A few days ago, we were walking back from supper and a black dog started heeling beside me perfectly, nose up wantonly. Brendan said, "I bet it's the liver in your pocket". I reached in, and he was right. I guess I had worn this jacket on my last walk with Queso and Oscar and had forgotten to leave my ziplock of "doggie crack" (freeze dried liver which I use for training). This stuff is obviously more delicious than anything a dog can imagine as you can get them to do absolutely anything for a tiny piece of it. So here we are walking down the street and my new friend-for-life won't leave my side. I made the fatal mistake of giving him a piece. Oh my GAWD, he had won the Lotto 649! I gave him a second and there was no turning back. Guaranteed this was the BEST meal this guy ever had. Now we were walking quicker and he was getting more and more agressive. Unlike the orphan punk at the temple, he didn't hear my "no". He began leaping up and biting at my elbow. Brendan took the baggie from me, but still this dog wouldn't let up. There was nothing that would stop him from just one more piece. An addict was born. A German couple had to hold the dog while we made our getaway into the night. We talked about bringing the rest of the liver back up to the monkey temple in Kathmanu for that dying dog that had broken our hearts.... imagine that being his last meal. Talk about Nirvanah.

Anyway, we met a great couple from Belgium, Nikki and Alain. Sitting at the "Be Happy Restaurant" Nikki commented how she couldn't train her dog to come off leash without carrying greasy chicken scraps in her pocket. Brendan raced back to the hotel and demonstrated its efficacy with the dog that was already lying at our feet. (Come to think of it, he was right under my jacket looking up at the hopeful smell lingering in the empty pocket) Nikki now has my little packet of the freeze dried gold. She joked that she'd have to come visit us in Canada to get more of the stuff if she gets her dog hooked on it. Actually, I wish our friends good luck getting the package home as they may encounter problems in the International airports with the sniffer dogs. Maybe that's why everynight in Pokhara the dogs howled outside our window, keeping Brendan up. First one's free...

Pashupatinath

2008-03-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

March 12, 2008

I can't even finish writing about last night's experience as today's roller coaster was so incredibly intense, I'm again left in shards of feelings. Blackout last night was at 8 pm, so after supper (little band with beautiful Nepalese dancer - reminded me of my dear friend Ruby and her gorgeous hands and demeanor, flirtatious smile and such perfection in every movement) we walked past candlelit shops into the dead of night that was our laneway to the hotel. A "Shiva Moon" shone tonight.... crescent moon, but here it is on the bottom of the moon, so tonight it was smiling down on me and my fear of this dark - smirking at me so lost in this far away place. Footsteps again passing us and shadows of people barely visible. I was never so glad to get into a lumpy little single bed and go to sleep.

This a.m. we got up around 10 and were downtown and coffee snobs that we are, were ecstatic to find a cappuccino bar. We had a lovely breakfast, then took a cab to another temple, Pashupatinath where funeral pyres are kept burning 24 hours a day, tended by young men - at the ready to cremate corpses in ceremony, the ashes than washed into the river. A massive Hindu temple is at this site which we as non-Hindus were not allowed in. After paying the admission fee, a friendly guide told us he was employed by the temple and began telling us of Hindu traditions and spent about an hour with us, taking us from site to site. Freakish (by my standards, anyway) looking Hindi priests with long white Pippi Longstocking dreadlocks, painted foreheads, emaciated bodies draped in brilliant orange robes and sat around different doorways of the various monumental arches. Stone pirapets everywhere. On one side of the river was a desolate looking building which we were told was where people came to die - a sort of palliative gathering place. Beside that, were hermit caves where some would come sit for months at a time. The caves were small rooms carved into the layers of rock in the cliffs. All so surreal to my western senses and frame of reference.

We walked around fertility temples and back across the bridge. On the other side from where the bodies were cremated, were circular concrete platforms where families came and prayed on the anniversary of the death of their loved one.

One last stop was through St. Theresa Hospice. Again my heart shattered on the stones as we entered the courtyard of this "senior's home". I thought of you Mom, and your new life in your beautiful Sturgeon Creek assisted living facility and then walked past these elderly individuals who's lives were so vastly different from anything I could imagine. A man with leg in full cast, propped up along a wall, another lying on a bench in fetal position opened his white sightless eyes as we passed. In the centre of this heartbreaking place, our guide told us our tour was over and now was the time where we should pay our "tourguide fee" which was whatever we chose, but most people paid 2,000 rupees apiece (about $30 each) if they found it enjoyable. Brendan offered 500 for the both of us. The man took his money, then turned to me asking me for my share, mentioning it was all about my karma and I would have to live with this. In hindsight, I wish I would have said that it was his karma he'd have to deal with deceiving us the way he did. I felt absolutely NO guilt and Brendan remarked later that he should have put the money in a donation box for those old people rather than into the guide's greedy pocket. Again Brendan amazed me by not blowing a gasket, although I know he was tempted to give the guy a piece of his mind.

We walked across the river and parked ourselves in the shade. A funeral was about to begin as they brought a body wrapped in white and draped with orange cloth, down to the water's edge. Brendan crossed back over the river to watch the ceremony, but I was happy to stay in my shady place - able to watch, but far enough to be able to still myself. I had such a hard time believing this was an actual person lying there. One who had only stopped breathing hours before. Somebody's child. Probably someone's father, a grandfather, a husband. I could barely make this connection and I felt strangely shut down. Downstream in this filthy muddy water, splashed a group of young children. Across the banks from them, orphans fished for coins in the river with magnets. I looked back at the funeral pyre. The Undertaker was now circling three times around the wrapped body which had been placed on logs ready to be set ablaze. The fire was lit first from the man's mouth. Once the flames caught, wet straw was laid on top of the body and the smoke thickened.
All of a sudden the reality of this death and that this was an actual person hit me. I was overcome with emotion, my eyes burning with tears. I leaned against the building I was standing beside and became as still as I could. I prayed for this man and his family, honouring his death and release from this human existence.

My eyes were closed and I sensed someone come up beside me, then pressed against me and my bag. It was a youngish (14 yr old perhaps) orphan punk. Dirty faced, dressed in dark raggy clothes with a navy jacket. He stared at me with hollow eyes, then looked at my bag, then very obviously for me to see, he stuck his hand in his pocket a la bankrobber with a concealed weapon and pushed it towards me. I heard a clicking sound and my first thought was that he must have some sort of knife. I was still in kind of a meditative state which I believe kept me safe. I quietly but firmly looked him in the eyes and said, "No". He stared back with predator eyes. I knew he was trying to intimidate me and I actually wasn't scared. I just said "NO", louder and more firmly. Then I walked into the open sunlight away from him. He took off immediately and that's when I began to shake.

Brendan joined me soon after and I was glad I didn't see where the kid went because I knew that he'd would have had to face the wrath of BB and I definitely didn't want this situation to escalate. I reported what happened and begged Brendan to take me back to the hotel. Of course we hit a traffic jam on the way back home. I was feeling at breaking point and what sent me absolutely over the edge was a little 7 or 8 yr. old boy reached through my open window holding out what looked like a lump of hash. "You like smoke?" Oh my GOD. He was a little child. What was left of my heart split once again and I zoned out for the rest of the ride home.

After getting showered and grounded at the hotel I left for a walk only to get hit from above with a plastic bag filled with water thrown by a kid on a balcony above. This is such a test for me. Huge lessons to be learned. I'm trying so hard not to judge this world of smoldering corpses, monkeys and beggars eating garbage off the temple steps, of children selling drugs, of dying people living out their last days alone, of the desperate poverty that is everywhere I see. I went to sleep asking for comfort for those in the dark streets of Kathmandu, the little water bomber boys and the poor young punk that had the decency to leave me alone and hear my "no".

Namaste Kathmandu

2008-03-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

From march 11 journal...

The only thing that kept us going on our train ride was knowing we were confirmed with deluxe reservations at the Ganesh Himal. Unfortunately we arrived and they had given away our room and put us up next door at the Lai Lai. I hope B posts his mildew shots of the bathroom... most impressive.

Early a.m., we moved into our "deluxe" two-twin bed digs at the Ganesh Himal Hotel. After breakfast downstairs we headed out into the streets of Thamel (the trekker/shopping district of Kathmandu). The streets are wide enough to barely allow cars to pass each other - now we found ourselves trying to cross a tangled a traffic circle.... try to imagine dozens of cars, (nothing newer than 20 years old), bicycle rickshaws offering you rides, motorbikes, bicycles, children, walkers, sleeping dogs and the odd cow. Teeny little shops - multicoloured woven fleece lined jackets, endless racks of pashminas, hand embroidered cashmere sweaters, yak wool blankets, trekking supplies with Northface knockoffs everywhere you looked. We didn't begin to shop as we were on a mission to find a morning cup of coffee..... something we now have learned hasn't quite found itself to Nepal....unless of course you consider Nescafe Instant a suitable beverage. We finally found a restaurant but they couldn't make filtered coffee til after 2 pm when the electricity was back on. Welcome to Nepal. Daily, there are rotating blackouts which last for 4-8 hours. A city of, I don't know how many millions of people doesn't even blink twice as the lights go out in the evening. Small diesel-run generators kick in, candles are lit and no one misses a beat. Unless you're a prairie girl from Prout Road, totally FREAKING OUT walking down a pitch black back lane. This happened the night before. Brendan and I went out for an evening stroll thorugh our neighbourhood.... ha. It was absolute insanity to me from the getgo- the busyness, the chaos and then *SNAP*... out went the lights and we continued home in the moonless night. The sound of people passing by in the total darkness really threw me. What had been a well lit street, suddenly became relatively silent and some shops were lit by a single candle.

Back to our first morning. Each corner of every block yielded to another endless chain of shops. We walked and walked, then caught a cab to Swayambhunath Stupa (the Monkey Temple). My head hit the roof our cab as we bumped along a street of boulder-sized gravel and I wondered if there was a car left in the city that still had shocks. We arrived at the base of the hill and hiked up a million stairs (I think only 150, but it was enough) to the temple in the sky, overlooking Kathmandu. I can't begin to describe this world of wild monkeys racing up and down the walls and railings, the homeless people, the beautiful children, the bazaar outside the temple, the little band of old men seated scrunched together playing music and singing, the dying dogs (one mangey dog-leper that stood motionless beside a monument. Brendan commented, "That one forgot to die"). On the way down the steps, we past a beggar with blackened bandaged feet crawling with flies. My heart tore apart so many times, I felt as frayed as the thousand prayer flags hanging from the treetops.

Brendan's Sunglasses

2008-03-08T06:21:00.000-08:00

First off, let me post Brendan's blog address as its such an effort to post, we're taking turns.

http://www.brendan-brendanstravels.blogspot.com/

Okay, Brendan bought a pair of knockoff RayBans in Cambodia and had been singing their praises our entire trip. Here I had paid $145 for mine and his were working just fine for him. During breakfast with our new friends, Sam and Lisa Bovey from Switzerland, he noticed they were missing (more about the Switzerlands another time... we fondly call them our "Essential Friends" as he so generously gave us samples of his wonderful essential oils. We enjoyed two meals and many hours with them... another story, though) Backtracking every step, he started obsessing about where they could have gone. We came to the conclusion that he had left them in the internet room at the SK Guesthouse so back he went but returned empty-handed. It was getting close to our motorcycle departure for our second ride through the jungle and I envisioned the hours ahead where our conversation would solely revolve around the brightness of the sun, the dust in his naked eyes and "I wonder if I left them...." To spare myself such delight, I volunteered to race down the street and find a cheap substitute. Unfortunately I could only come upon a REALLY cheap vendor where I quickly purchased a knockoff of a knockoff of Police sunglasses a la Paunch from the TV show CHiPS.

All day I teased him about the and when we returned to the night bazaar Brendan was only too quick to replace them and actually used the old ones as bartering power. The guy wanted 450 baht, Brendan offered 200 throwing in the CHiPS shades. "Okay Okay". Deal. As we walked away, the guy chased us down, thinking we forgot them behind, misunderstanding that they were part of the deal. We couldn't lose those ugly shades if we tried.

We stopped at a 7-11 for a drink where a little beggar boy sat on the curb sandwiched between two motorbikes. He sat quietly looking up, little plastic cup on the ground in front of him. Instantly, Brendan reached into his pocket and pulled out the infamous sunglasses and into the cup they went. The little boy's eyes could not have grown wider. With absolute amazement he looked up at B as if he had received THE most magical gift in the world. He sat motionless and then slowly pulled them out of the cup, his eyes never leaving Brendan. Yes, that pair of shades got maximum mileage that day - a trip through the spectacular hills of the Thai jungle, an afternoon stop at the Beer Hut in the middle of nowhere, a hair-raising ride through Chiang Mai rush hour, only to find home sweet home in the hands of a little nameless boy.

Now if only there were a fabric store in the middle of nowhere, the day would have been perfect.

beer hut bunny

beer hut flowers

beer hut brendan

PS. these are his new ones.

Pai in the Sky

2008-03-06T00:54:00.000-08:00

Good grief, I feel I've had a month's worth of experiences since last I typed on a sticky slow keyboard here in Thailand.
After waking up in the paradise that was our private resort, we filled ourselves with breakfast, saddled up and off we went on the Road of a Million Curves. Not too dissimilar of how I feel about my life right now. The road was perfect blacktop and we had about 88kms to go before we reached Pai. Well, it took us almost four hours as the maximum speed I ever saw our speedometre hit was 45kms/hour... accelarate for 10 sec, only to slow right down again to make it around yet another corner. The view was absolutely breathtaking, the weather perfection. Going higher and higher we moved in and out of warm and cool currents and each turn brought another photo op.

We got to Pai late afternoon, and off Brendan went to find us accommodations while I rested my sore butt at the internet cafe. Well, he didn't disappoint yet again. This time, he found a bungalow high on a hill overlooking the town.

view from the bungalow

No real time to type, here are some images.

We were on the motorcycle behind this little babe in arms in downtown Pai.

Okay, now my card reader stopped working. I have dozens of images, but this is all you get for a while.

Turning it Around - Journal Entry March 3, 2008

2008-03-03T23:14:00.001-08:00

I thought I needed to sketch this a.m. but I need words down on page more than images. This trip has been monumental in so many ways - personally, for me to experience the twists and turns of the unknown, the magnificent feast of the adventures which life has to offer and to spend time with someone I care for deeply, exploring all this through each other's eyes. Yesterday was an absolute FIASCO for the first half of the day - blundering mistakes, behind schedule, computer delays, feeling anxious and rushed, tempers just under the surface. Aiming to get out of town by noon, it was after 3:30 pm and we were desperately searching for a gas station on our way out of town. Brendan's frustration was palpable and I was already beginning to become increasingly uncomfortable sitting on my bony bum in synthetic pants on the back of our 400cc Honda motorcycle. And we hadn't even left city limits yet. Funny how that clock kept tick tick ticking away.

Let me backtrack a bit. We got to the train station to book our sleeper car only to be disappointed to find no seats in A/C. So we grabbed the seats we could and accepted that we at least had one paradise night on our way to Chiang Mai. Returning to Bangkok we can only take the afternoon train in the heat of the day which arrives at 5:30 in the a.m. on the 10th. Anyway, at the train station, Brendan stopped to chat with a couple of French travellers on the steps of the station. I quickly saw how being bilingual is definitely a bonus. These guys had just returned from a town called Pai - 5 hours north and they said it was simply beautiful. So, Mr and Mrs. A.D.D. (always distracted and unfocussed, believe me) changed plans. Instead of taking our planned one day circle, then south, we headed off to Pai.

We drove for almost an hour - both trying to leave Chiang Mai and get that thirsty gas tank filled. Not a gas station ANYWHERE. We stopped 3 or 4 different ppl and finally pulled into a station and almost kissed the guy's feet until we saw it sold propane only. Brendan knocked on the empty tank, making hollow thirsty noises and threw his arms up asking, "where????" and the guy looked blankly back at us. I pulled out the map and our friend pointed to our note which read SK Guesthouse (where we had been staying)and nodded happily, "Yes, SK Guest House!". Good grief.... patience was at a premium. Finally he got our drift and pointed us down the highway.

For those of you who know Brendan, you can imagine the incredible control he exhibited when once we did find the gas station but saaw that it was across two highways, BOTH one-way in the opposite direction. So, only as Brendan knows how to break rules, around we zipped onto the left shoulder of the highway facing traffic, buses honking at us, ppl laughing at the stupid foreigners, and me trying not to ignite our gas fumes with my increasing smouldering. Anyway, we finally deeked over and filled the tank.

On the highway north (which we now fondly have named Gas Station Alley as there must have been 25 in a row there... you can imagine how THAT pleased us), I was getting overheated and remembered Kate's sage words, "Don't get road rash". By the time we stopped to look at a map and gather our thoughts, my poor bottom felt I had been sitting on a barbeque. Ony five more hours to Pai. For the next hour, I took turns holding myself up with one hand while trying to keep my kiddie Scooby Doo crash helmet (which of course was still too big for my little pea head) and my Ray Bans from flying down Hwy. 11. We pulled over and Brendan insisted I zip off my legs, change into sandals and take a short walk to collect myself. It helped, but only a little. He kindly reminded me that renting a motorcycle was my idea. Bastard. After another 10 or so kms, we found the right road and turned off the main drag.

What a tunraround.... instantly we were in rolling farmland, jungle and tall hills in the distance. we passed a few signs and he kindly suggested we call it quits for the day and not push any further. We came to a few hotel and resort signs down this country road and I decided in my mind that I liked the one called "Baa Rai Lanna". Of course we drove past it and I was willing to keep going, but B turned the bike around and we found a little hand-carved sign pointing down a road no wider than any driveway in Winnipeg. Pavement turned to mud, to ruts and bumps and after a few minutes we turned into the entrance of THE most incredible resort. It was Shangri-La, simply and unquestionably. Little bungalows on a terraced hillside. "Can we see a room?". She gave us the deluxe one, and Brendan returned saying it was the nicest hotel room he had ever stayed in. Yes, this would be Brendan's gift to me after the hell we went through, it was the perfect reward for us turning things around. We didn't escalate into all-out warfare, on the contrary we worked to hold it together and we totally turned things around.
Okay, on top of everything.... we were the ONLY ones in the entire resort. The grounds were ours. the restaurant and pool were ours. We sat and had a beer at poolside at sunset and Brendan sat absolutely still and blissed out while I blubbered and cried with joy for about an hour. The stillness of the late afternoon into dusk was filled with increasing birdsong. Little dragonflies had follwed us from the Folk Festival and as darkness approached bats darted back and forth having their mosquito snacks. Brendan said that on the ride he had TOTALLY envisioned this place and I'm convinced the Universe worked some pretty heavyduty magic to have this manifest instantly for us.

So here are the pictures of our ShangriLa Hey, if you're ever in the area don't worry about booking ahead. Check out their website... http://www.baanrailanna.com/ Tell them Brendan sent you.

Our room on the hill

looking up from gate

lifestyles of the rich and famous

view from bed

private pool

morning on balcony

banner in yard

lawn ornament

morning meditation

back on track

Temple of the Dawn

2008-03-03T01:40:00.001-08:00

Okay, I'm waiting for Brendan to go and get us a room for the night, so I have time to upload a few more images from our first day. This is the Temple of the Dawn. Not for anyone with a fear of heights. The steps were about 15" high and the way was STRAIGHT UP. Easier going up, than down, let me tell you. There was a woman with high heel shoes in front of me. "Good luck", I thought. She was my hero.

Welcome to Bangkok

2008-03-03T00:46:00.000-08:00

This was our neighbourhood for two nights. We stayed in the D&D Guest House on Koh San Road, the main backpackers' strip. yes, a little different from Prout Road.

The first of many statue portraits. I could fill up my camera with images of these as there are concrete faces everywhere we turn. Brendan and I took the boat up the river through Bangkok to the Temple of the Reclining Buddah. These guys were outside the gate and around each temple.

Brendan asked me, "Do you want to save the best for last, or go right to it?" I said to "Bring it on" and so we entered the main temple. We removed our shoes and walked into the building where an enormous golden Buddha lay in repose. It was so serene and surreal. The walls were amass with the most detailed painted murals with incredible patterned ceiling. Once we walked down to the feet the detail in his soles was absolutely astounding ... all Mother of Pearl inlay. A million hours of work, for sure. It was hard to capture anything in perspective as this statue was so enormous.

We made our way back down to the riverside, had lunch at a little dockside "bistro" (NOT). Brendan had a beer while I sketched. I'm thinking this relationship will work out just fine.

Okay, I will leave this for now. This is only takes us to lunch on the first day, but hopefully will satisfy those people (hi Mom) who are so desperate for images and anecdotes. This is but a crumb of what we've done this past week, but at least it's a start. Much love to you all.

Heidi

Best Intentions (or Blog Schmog)

2008-03-01T21:40:00.000-08:00

I have been in Thailand for less than a week and I feel I've had a year's worth of experiences. Every moment has been filled with such intensity... the generosity and kindness of the people, the spiritual stillness and reverence of the temples, the colours, the artistry, the care that people put into their lives here.

We are now in Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand and will be here until we take the overnight train back to Bangkok on the 9th to leave for Nepal.

Everynight Brendan and I sit and rehash the incredible experiences we've had and I note what I want to share in this space. And every morning we leave for more adventure gathering. We have rented a motorcycle and are about to take off for three days through the jungles of Northern Thailand where the hilltribes known for their carvings, embroideries, textiles. It will be one more thing on the list to tell about.

This is indeed THE single most LIFECHANGING experience of my life. The lesson here has been to surrender to the present moment, let go of expectations. Yes Kate, just like that Guy Clark song, "Spread your arms and hold your breath and always trust your cape".

So I will sign off now and will fill fill camera and sketchbook and thoughts and hope to GOD the next computer will be able to accept my digital images (haven't found one yet) that I can post some of the wonderful pictures of the experiences we are taking in.

Testing Testing....Copy That

2008-02-09T19:53:00.001-08:00

Brrrrr.... Environment Canada says blizzard warning through the night. Windchill is -42C

Oscar and Queso don't mind the bitter weather. They've been in and out all day, tumbling in the snowdrifts.

I've got the woodstove working overtime and am wearing many layers as I sit here typing this test message. Next installment will come from the other side of the planet. Just thought I'd work out the kinks before I'm sitting in some internet café without a clue how to work this blog site.