Last Words, First Thoughts

Note: No new pictures, unfortunately!

Day-to-Day: 16-21 September 2011

 

I started to write this post on the plane from Istanbul to London, but couldn’t focus enough. In London, I spent my twelve hour layover going through British customs (looooong line), finding the tube and meeting my Couchsurfing hosts Ginette and Martin. They picked me up at a tube station and took me to their lovely home, decorated with their photos of their travels. We chatted until late and in the morning I caught a bus to the tube station, the tube to the airport, and took off on my nine hour flight to Durham, NC, USA!

Since I’ve been home, my energy levels have been fluctuating a whole lot. One day will feel pretty good and the next I’ll take four or five naps. My stomach hasn’t reacted terribly well to being home, although I’ve been eating terrific food (compliments of the chef, my dad). A couple of people think it might be the water… not bad, just different. I think that might be it, because things seem to be settling down in that arena.

As for my mood… it fluctuates a lot also. From feeling chatty to silent, from engaged to completely disengaged, my mood isn’t really settling yet. I’m kinda feeling a bit down, to be honest, although with no real specific reason. And while sometimes I’m excited to share some travel story or another, at other times I actively don’t want to talk about my travels. I have gone through my travel goodies – the souvenirs and stuff I sent home from abroad – but just once, and they’re all packed away. For some reason, I don’t feel ready to “deal” with them yet. Whatever that means.

I guess I’m just not fully home yet. Everyone laughs gently at my bewilderment at being tired and out of sorts, but I really don’t understand it. I’ve been whirling around the world, hopping from city to city, being rootless the whole time, and haven’t really felt this way. Part of it is facing what’s next… which is a complete mystery to me, by the way. We’ll all just have to wait and see…

In general, it’s very nice to be home: chatting and catching up with my folks; eating nice food; having access to a hot shower with soap, where I don’t have to wear shoes; soft toilet paper; and a car and wi-fi and all the things that seemed sometimes difficult abroad; all of this is great. There are no real demands on me or my time, although there are few things that need doing (doctor’s appointment, etc). I had a great visit with lots of family immediately on my return, since there was a celebration party for my brother marrying Liz. Two grandmothers and an uncle, not to mention my brother and his wife’s family… it was a great weekend with good company, conversation and food.

I feel very odd. On the one hand I feel like I never left: my parent’s house is just the same, as is the room I stay in there. On the other hand, I gues I don’t feel like I’m really home, as in staying home as opposed to moving on in a week or two. It’s a very disjointed feeling and I’m trying not to push myself too hard to feeling “normal.”

As a final note to this entry: I don’t plan on stopping this blog. I figure enough will be going on that I’ll want to write about, from searching for “what’s next” to making the decision on whether to be employed and with whom and where… so I hope that any readers out there will stick with me!

--Z

Counting Down

Note: Not just one, but TWO new picture albums are up!  First, “Turkey: Topkapi Palace Bosphorous Cruise,” which shows my first two days back in Istanbul, Turkey. Second, “Turkey: Selcuk and Around,” which I’ll continue adding to until I move on, has pictures from Selcuk, Ephesus and soon a few other day trip places. Enjoy!

Day-to-Day: 1-15 September 2011

 

Just ten days in Turkey isn’t much, you know. As I knew before I came, it’s barely enough time to find out what I’m going to miss! While I was in Nepal, I was sure my time would be a whirlwind of experiences here as I tried to make the most of my last traveling days. After landing in Istanbul, though, I knew I had to take it easy on myself because my body was starting to become sluggish: slight head cold, exhaustion, soreness. When this happens I know what to do: slow down, relax, recharge.

All right, well, I haven’t really done that. But I’ve cut down on the number of things to cram into my time in Turkey, so at least that’s something! So I spent a day and a half in Istanbul, checking out Topkapi Palace for the morning and then taking a boat cruise on the Bosphorous for the afternoon. It was a great day, tiring but not overly exhausting. The next morning, I took off south to take in Ephesus, which has been recommended to me a dozen times by other travelers and friends. There are a couple cities near Ephesus and I chose Selcuk, which has turned out to be a great choice. The Ephesus ruins were fantastic and the bits of Selcuk that I’ve seen are pretty neat too. And the food… I’m loving Turkish food!

As for the rest of my time in Turkey, I’m hoping to take a quick trip to the Aegean coast to swim in new waters, perhaps visit Sirince for the wineries, hustle over to Pammukale for the calcium-rich travertines and Hieropolis ruins, and maybe even squeeze in Cannakale, which would allow a half-day trip to the ruins of Troy. It’s a lot, and I’m not 100% sure I’ll make all of it, but at least I have some goals to tick off as I go.

Of course, I’m counting down to the day I get home, too… just six days away now! My panic has subsided and now I’m just waiting to see how things go. It’ll be a busy week right when I get home, with family visiting and a marriage celebration and a friend visiting as well. Then I’ll have the two weeks of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to relax and settle in. I’m a little nervous, quite a bit excited and mostly, just curious. I’m actually succeeding at not getting more worked up the closer it gets. In fact, I feel calmer and more assured about heading home now.

As I’ve been looking back at this year of travel, I’m trying to come up with lessons learned and ideas hatched and insights gained. I’m not sure I’ll be able to articulate everything here, but one thing has stood out to me recently, because it’s one of the most common questions I get asked when I meet other travelers: have I been scared as I’ve traveled on my own in all of these foreign places.

The answer is, of course! But when I really think about it, it occurs to me that never once was my fear really substantiated. I remember arriving in Siem Reap late at night on a bus and being mobbed by the touts and feeling terrified. In Thailand, a tuk-tuk driver ditched me in the middle of a strange neighborhood when I refused to buy clothes at his friend’s shop. In Indonesia, I got lost hiking amongst the rice paddies. In Hong Kong, I couldn’t find my way to a rendezvous point with my couchsurfing host, didn’t have a phone and it was late at night. Three men stared at me in Nepal one time when I was in a market and I felt exceedingly uncomfortable. In Vietnam the traffic made my stomach turn and crossing the street nearly made me vomit. And when I was sick in Cambodia, that was scary.

The thing is, most of the times I was scared, it was because of my own preconceived notions. Exceedingly impoverished people? They must want to steal my things, or mug me, or frighten me into giving them money. Traffic? They’re going to kill me, or perhaps mug me from a motorbike and hurt me. Lascivious men? They’re going to follow me, intimidate me, attack me.

None of these things happened. Nothing even close. Sure, poor people begged and some looked angry when I didn’t give them money. But none ever attacked me or even touched me once I walked away. While it truly is scary, no one in Vietnam came close to hitting me and no motorbike drivers made a grab for me or my bags. Lascivious men? Catcalls, offers, winks and annoying, too-friendly chatter, sure. But nothing more.

In fact, most of the times I started to feel fear, it was the people themselves who eventually helped me. Whether it be other travelers or locals, inevitably people are what have made my trip so amazing. Having gone the places I went and experienced the things I did, that was incredible too. I’m so proud of myself for skydiving, for braving public transport and new foods and amazing adventures, for riding elephants and exploring ruins and sleeping in strange places.

And so, to those who ask me, “Were you ever scared?”

Of course. My answer is, of course! And then I found out that my fear came from my own preconceived notions more often than the reality I was confronted with. That a healthy dose of fear keeps me alert and attentive, but that reaching out to others for help and guidance and reassurance will almost always result in a successful experience. And that people, in general, are good!

What a great lesson to learn about myself, that I can fear, and evaluate, and overcome my fear to become a person who reacts to reality.

--Z

Travel Day Impressions

Note: I have added the last of the pictures to the “Nepali: Another 25 Days” album. Enjoy!

Impression: Nepali Hospital

On the way to the hospital I passed several tables with severed pigs heads for sale.

My malaria pill bottles were unopened and I decided that I should donate them, an option I’d heard was a possibility in Nepal. It took a few times asking shopkeepers and pedestrians, but eventually the courtyard containing hospital, emergency room and pharmacy was in front of me. It was disconcerting, because the pharmacy was a counter under a tin roof, open to the noise, heat and pollution of the Kathmandu air. There was any entry door to the hospital, but the emergency room had no doors and I could see three beds with people in them. The pharmacy wouldn’t take my meds and directed me into the emergency room. Uncomfortable normally in hospitals, I was even more so in this case. Doctors inside informed me that Chitwan would be a better place to donate them, but eventually I convinced them to take the pills. I’m slightly ashamed to say I high-tailed it out of there.

The pigs heads were staring at me as I walked back to my hotel; the butcher continued his bloody work on the ground next to the tables on which the heads lay.

Impression: CS

My first week in Kathmandu, a local Couchsurfer had sent me a message telling me about a weekly get-together in Thamel, involving meeting people, learning to dreadlock hair and possibly some henna demonstrations as well. During my twenty-six days in Nepal, I managed to make just one of these meetings, and that occasion was on my last day in the country for just half an hour before my taxi picked me up for the airport. I ducked into the tattoo parlor area where the meeting was taking place and was immediately greeted by a mixed group of people in a tiny back room. As most of my Couchsurfing experiences have been, this was a welcoming, excited and friendly experience. I met a dozen people in just a few minutes; watched the organizer, Zen, as she explained how to use a tiny hook-tool to turn a hank of sample hair into a dreadlock; accepted and drank a cup of tea; bonded with a Norwegian-Swedish couple over shared Nepali bus experiences; and was sent on my way with waves, hugs and wishes of smooth travels.

Impression: Nepalis on a Plane

They piled onto the plan like it was a bus: bags tossed everywhere, seat assignments ignored, conversations light and jovial and anticipatory. The flight attendants – a gentle giant of a soft-spoken guy, and a hard-ass lady who seemed likely to punch someone in the face at any moment – were carefully explaining to every non-Western passenger where their seat was and what to do with their luggage. It was mostly to no avail. A young Nepali guy looked at his ticket as he stood next to my seat, glanced around with a frown, shrugged, and sat in the row behind me. I overheard him reciting, “Seat 4C, 4C, 4C,” just like the flight attendant had told him. He was in 5C. I showed him where the numbers were posted and he quickly changed seats. I have no idea if he was confused or just trying to sit next to his friend.

Later, I watched as the flight attendants explained using the toilet to two young toughs, who bobbed their heads from side to side doubtfully in response and took turns. Afterwards, I noticed the flight attendant peer into the toilet cubby, flush, shake his head and then return to the aisle to direct people.

Before the plane took off, there was a mass rush to the front of the plane as the Nepali passengers noticed empty seats. The female flight attendant didn’t pop anyone on the nose, but seemed barely to suppress the urge as she pointed imperiously back to their seats.

And at the Dubai airport, where most of the Nepali’s seemed to be transferring to a new flight, like me, it took over an hour for them to file, one by one, through the medal detector. The shrill beeeep of the machine went off during the entire time as each one was directed, by mime, to remove his belt or sunglasses or other medal objects from his person.

It must be hard to fly for the very first time as an adult!

Impression: Dubai Airport

While I’d like to say that it never even crossed my mind, it wouldn’t be true. I was well aware when we landed, and as I wandered the transit waiting area amongst veiled women and turbaned men, that it was September 11; that I was an American in an Arab country; and that my passport had Israeli stamps in it. The first didn’t make me nervouse; the second made me more aware of my surroundings; and the last factor had me nervously shifting my weight as the airline employee typed away to issue my onward ticket.

The thing is, it was an airport experience like any other. The air conditioning was a bit too strong, perhaps, and the lights far too bright, and the seats way too uncomfortable. But as people milled about, or slept, or stared sleepily at tv screens, computers or books, my most persistent emotion wasn’t fear, or suspicion, or self-preservation. It was curiosity. I watched three women, only their hands and eyes visible outside their black coverings, as they shooed children away to play, chattered with each other, and tried to get comfortable. A white robed man with an Arab head-dressing strolled along, deep in discussion with a similarly dressed friend. There were all degrees of dress amongst both men and women, leaning towards the conservative trend for both sexes and all ages.

I was curious. If it weren’t four in the morning and my brain wasn’t grinding to a slow but inevitable halt, I would have liked to try striking up a conversation with one of these people I know so little about. While eating a snack, I shared a table with a woman and her infant, who snored away blissfully. We didn’t speak each other’s languages, but smiled tentatively and made mimed offers to share our food, both declining but still smiling.

Half of my layover of eight hours in Dubai was spent sleeping (or trying to sleep). The other half had me watching, groggily, the rhythms of a different culture and lifestyle. I hope someday to go back to the UAE and learn, first-hand, about this fascinating place and it's people.

--Z

A Weekend Adventure (with a few hiccups)

Note: I’ve added still more pictures to the “Nepal: 25 More Days” album, from rafting and Chitwan. Take a look!

 

It all started out well, I swear!

The plan was to take a tourist bus from Pokhara to a point where a rafting company would take me rafting on the Trisuli River. The morning started out well enough, leaving Pokhara on a nice morning with a blue sky. The first few hours of the bus ride went smoothly, although at our breakfast stop some of us noticed smoke coming from a tire well. Some Nepali boys banged away at it and by the time we boarded all seemed well.

An hour later, we were pulled onto the side of the road in a small town, wheel well smoking away again. This time, the Nepali boys (which every bus seems to have along for such occasions) took the wheels off and then began dismantling the axle. There were ten of us eyeing the entire operation doubtfully, itching to get to the rafting point that was reputedly only twenty-eight kilometers away. We ground our teeth and sweated for about an hour before deciding to thumb a ride. A passing pickup truck agreed to take us for a hundred rupees each (outrageous!) and we all piled into the bed, where there were benches along the side and plastic stretched over a framework above us.

Rafting went well enough, with everyone but the guides and me having their first rafting experience. I jumped into the river a few times, cooling off from the hard work of paddling in the humid heat. Two hours of rafting and relaxing later, we ate lunch at a shack and showered, fully clothed, under an open-air faucet next to two enclosed squatter toilets. Those tourists who were heading on to Kathmandu left; then those heading to Pokhara. The thirteen of us remaining who were headed for Chitwan waited. And waited. It began to rain and still we waited, starting to chew our lower lips again.

Finally, we were told that there was a strike on near Chitwan and no vehicles except tourist buses could get through, and that the next tourist bus would be by the next morning. They pointed down the road and explained that we could camp in tents and have meals, free of charge, while we spent the night and waited for the tourist bus. Many of us had booked package tours at Chitwan National Park, and none of us knew whether the lodges would honor the packages if we arrived a day late. Oh… there was no telephone reception and no landline telephones, either. We were stuck.

Three girls from England decided to head back to Kathmandu. A pierced and tattooed half-naked couple apparently decided to hang out at the shacks and see what happened. The rest of us – two Indians, two Belgians, two Germans, a Japanese girl and me – decided to try our luck in hitching a ride as close as we could get to our lodges, then call the lodges and ask them to send someone to pick us up. We all piled into the first vehicle that agreed: a truck with a large cab. The two Nepali boy mechanics who rode with the rig rode on top until it began to rain. At that point they squeezed in with the rest of us and all our luggage, making our party eleven in a cab meant to comfortably sit perhaps five. We were all rather cheerful and accommodating, chattering away and being goofy.

Until we started passing trucks parked along the side of the road, that is. When we could go no further we, too, pulled over, to learn that about ten minutes earlier, a tourist bus had flipped, blocking the entire road. We sat back and waited. We bought some chips from a nearby shack, and some water, and a little Coca-Cola and whiskey to help one of the Belgians celebrate his twenty-first birthday.

Three hours later – it was 9pm now – the accident was cleared and we were on our way. It was pouring rain and our crew was a bit quieter now. Another two hours and we reached Sauhara, the small village outside Chitwan National Park. We all hugged and exchanged e-mails and went on our separate ways to our separate lodges, having arrived well past the ending time of the strikes. My lodge, the Gorkha Hamlet, welcomed me and the two Belgians (who had not booked a place and decided to try their luck at my place), fed us a limited dinner and sent us to bed. My room was nice, with two beds and a furiously spinning loud ceiling fan, which blew my mosquito netting around all night but kept me cool.

I woke up the next day feeling nauseous and exhausted and with a headache that made me dizzy. My guide agreed to move my program forward a day to let me rest and recover, and I slept fitfully between rushed bathroom trips and sips of bottled water, until 3pm. At that point I joined three Polish travelers for a sight-seeing walk through a part of the borderlands of the National Park, a visit to a park information center with outdated information, a quick trip to some elephant stables, and a culture show that featured a thick Nepali-accented announcer and some wonderful Tharu dances. We managed to spot a gaida, a rare type of creature much like a crocodile but whose snout seemed much longer and narrower.

The next day, one of the Poles – Maria – was sick. The others, Justine and Peter, and I did all of our activities together: canoeing in a long, narrow boat and bird watching on the river; a visit to the elephant breeding center; a quick run to join others who had spotted an Asian Rhinoceros; and an elephant bath. During the canoe trip we saw a crocodile and some pretty birds, including a brilliantly flashing-blue kingfisher. At lunch,  Maria seemed to be feeling better and decided to join us for the afternoon elephant safari. During the safari we saw another rhino, which was huge and really did look as armored as the pictures showed them!

Finally, today, we took a long, bumpy bus ride back to Kathmandu, and it worked out that I’m staying at the same place as the three Poles and the two Belgian guys from my Disaster Day. Actually, this was no coincidence: one of the Belgian guys left his waist pack, which held his passport and money and important papers – in the room at the Gorkha Hamlet. Knowing I was staying there an extra day, he’d called and asked me to bring it to him in Kathmandu, telling me the name of his guest house. And so, here we all are!

Five more days until I return to Turkey, and about two weeks until I head home! Time is flying along!

--Z

West of Kathmandu

Note: I’ve added lots of pictures to the “Nepal: Another 25 Days” album, so take a look!

Day-to-Day: 15-31 August 2011

 

It took seven hours, but I finally got from Kathmandu to Pokhara last Sunday. My choices in buses, according to the travel agent guy I talked to, were Green Line Bus for $18, or tourist bus for 500 Rupees (that’s basically $18 vs $7). Call me crazy but I took the 500 Rupee option. The only difference he would tell me between the two was AC and no AC. I admit, I was slightly leery, given my Cambodia experience (where I was seated on a plastic beach chair next to the driver for four hours), but it turned out to be all right.

My first few days in Pokhara, I vegged: slept in, meandered around the main street, gazed out at Fewa Lake and the surrounding mountians, internetted, read books, and so on. Apparently I needed it, because I couldn’t muster up interest or motivation to do anything else!

On Tuesday, I got up before the sun and took a taxi up to Sarangkot to view the sunrise. I was not so lucky here, because the clouds obscured the scenery – namely, the Annapurna Range of mountains that is the reason people come to see sunrise. However, I did get a sneak peek at Macchupucchre Peak and the wall of another peak, snow covered and with those granite crags that seem so detailed, even from a distance. When I got back to my guesthouse, I slept until 1pm.

Wednesday found me flying through the air again: I had signed up Tuesday evening to go paragliding from Sarangkot. It involved riding in the back of a pickup with benches installed, then meeting my “pilot” on a down-sloping field. He was nice enough, though he sounded a bit like a tape recording: “How are you doing today, Zoe… fine, fine, now this here is the harness…” and so on. My answers were acknowledged but not really registered. In any case, he explained how I needed to walk with him, and run with him, when he indicated. We had one false start where the breeze changed directions; the second time, though, we walked together (he was harnessed in behind me) and then ran for about three steps before our chute filled and lifted us up. My harness turned a bit and suddenly I was sitting on air (and straps), watching the world around me!

There were a dozen other paragliders that day, so the sky was amusing to watch. My pilot, Ramesh, explained to me how thermals worked and demonstrated. I had signed up for a thirty minute ride and basically, all I did was sit back and watch! Surprisingly, after awhile I felt slightly queasy… I think it’s because for the most part, paragliders circle. All those circles get to be a bit much after awhile, I guess. In any case, we swooped around, catching thermals and gently rising, then gliding down a bit here and there. Looking down I could see rice paddies and terraced land, Fewa Lake and Pokhara, and here and there I would get a glance at the Annapurna peaks behind the hills.

Near the end, we were over the lake and he asked if I’d like to do a trick. I should have said now, but I couldn’t! So we did a spiral, where we were about sideways to the ground and whirring around our chute… it was great fun but left me feeling queasier than before. Soon after, we glided in for a landing. We barely even stumbled!

For the rest of the day I vegged out with my new friend, Premra from Dubai, who also paraglided. We went and had a long lunch; then watched two movies at another restaurant; went our separate ways only to meet up again an hour later. We decided to rent a rowboat and paddle across the lake to Lychee Resort, an upscale place with a restaurant. Halfway across, we realized our plan’s major flaws: it was darker than usual out and indeed, the lightning and thunder began to worry us. We made it across only slightly soaked, but in the pitch dark. We had a nice dinner, chatted, and tried not to pay attention to the very pretty, dressed up Nepali girls giggling away with the older Nepal men at the table behind us. Premra, who speaks Hindi, muttered that they were negotiating prices and activities. It was really kinda sad.

The row back was dry, other than our feet and butts, but in the pitch dark. Premra, a horror movie lover, had many theories about the dark jungly woods on the mountain behind us and the dark waters and the critters in it ahead of us. Soon our plans’ second flaw became apparent: we could see no landmark telling us where we’d rented the boat from. And third flaw: we had no flashlight to show us a good place to park the boat.

Eventually we just pushed it up against part of the shore, then wandered through a few backyards before finally asking a Nepali couple to show us how to get back up to the main street. We found a nice place for a dessert, and then I was done: back at my guest house, I crashed, sleeping until 9am the next morning.

My last full day in Pokhara, I had someone paddle me across the lake and then climbed up to the World Peace Pagoda. It was a good climb, about an hour going straight uphill on stone steps. There were beautiful views out over the lake and Pokhara, though, which compensated. It was afternoon when I started, so it was hot and humid. Once I reached the pagoda, I met Anya and Lindsey, Canadians, and we got to chatting and decided to share a boat back. So we descended the same way I’d climbed, deciding to have lunch when we got to Lakeside.

And here I am, relaxing at a café, looking forward to the rafting, elephant safari, jungle birdwalk and Chitwan National Park visit that I booked for the next few days.

--Z