tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29568153775139993202024-02-08T15:26:20.884-05:00not intent on arrivingDustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-41884901519430644562008-08-15T16:01:00.020-05:002008-08-21T19:04:20.093-05:00China Part 4: Gorgeous GorgesOne thing that becomes clear while in China is that the Chinese government loves exhibiting its power and determination through projects of enormous scale. The Beijing Olympics is a great example: think of the Bird's Nest, or the spectacular opening ceremony. What seems impossible (or at least very improbable) becomes possible at the hands of 1.3 billion people and a determined national government. Sometimes it seems like even nature can't stand in China's way. <br /><br />Perhaps no other project makes this more apparent than the Three Gorges Dam. When I was in Brazil visiting the Itaipu Dam (currently the largest hydroelectric plant in operation), I was given a handout that compared Itaipu's size to other hydroelectric plants. The comparison was almost comical--the sheer size and output of Itaipu unquestionably justified its status as one of the greatest feats of modern engineering. But there was one other hydroelectric plant mentioned in the handout that outdid Itaipu on almost every statistic: Three Gorges.<br /><br />The Three Gorges Dam on China's Yangtze River (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Gorges_Dam) will be the largest hydroelectric plant in the world upon its completion in 2011. At almost 1.5 miles long, the Three Gorges Dam will have 34 generators, and is expected to produce 3% of China's electrical consumption.<br /><br />Being in the area and having already seen the colossal Itaipu Dam, I knew I had to see the Three Gorges Dam in person. Fortunately, Fang had already made the necessary contacts and reservations by the time we began traveling together, so that there were two spots reserved for us on a boat that traveled down the Yangtze River, all the way to the Three Gorges Dam. The trip took three nights and two days, from Chongqing to Yichang. I've marked the route between the two cities on this map in red (we traveled the section from Yichang to Wuhan by bus):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SK3sbZe8ykI/AAAAAAAABMA/pGtceNedseU/s1600-h/chinamap04+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SK3sbZe8ykI/AAAAAAAABMA/pGtceNedseU/s400/chinamap04+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237101897143077442" /></a><br /><br />Our boat departed from Chongqing, a city of about 4 million that became industrialized during World War II. Today the city seems incredibly modern, its citizens sometimes comparing it to Shanghai. At night, Chongqing is literally glowing with neon--highways are lined with neon lights that transform from one color to another, while skyscrapers exhibit profiles of more famous buildings from around the world (such as the Eiffel Tower) on their facades.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpj1_wO4I/AAAAAAAABEI/Q_d85g47eHQ/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing11.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpj1_wO4I/AAAAAAAABEI/Q_d85g47eHQ/s400/09CHINAChongqing11.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635837654711170" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpkTf8clI/AAAAAAAABEY/NBFRbdtModU/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing17.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpkTf8clI/AAAAAAAABEY/NBFRbdtModU/s400/09CHINAChongqing17.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635845574357586" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCHZ7YxI/AAAAAAAABEo/ixvwfJlihUk/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing25.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCHZ7YxI/AAAAAAAABEo/ixvwfJlihUk/s400/09CHINAChongqing25.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636357723972370" /></a><br /><br />Fang and me in front of the Great Hall of the People:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCRomNSI/AAAAAAAABEw/eI8jLm7iovk/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing31.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCRomNSI/AAAAAAAABEw/eI8jLm7iovk/s400/09CHINAChongqing31.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636360469853474" /></a><br /><br />Of course, there was always time for me to enjoy my favorite drink, milk tea:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqB7h-h5I/AAAAAAAABEg/aya8lm5mwh0/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing19.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqB7h-h5I/AAAAAAAABEg/aya8lm5mwh0/s400/09CHINAChongqing19.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636354536507282" /></a><br /><br />And time to enjoy the sometimes bizarre designer clothing advertisements, like this one for "Prich: Pride and Rich":<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpkIDvXPI/AAAAAAAABEQ/p5tlTDCK39I/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing14.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpkIDvXPI/AAAAAAAABEQ/p5tlTDCK39I/s400/09CHINAChongqing14.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635842503269618" /></a><br /><br />Fang had arranged for the aunt and uncle of a friend to show us around Chongqing. It turns out that the uncle is also a police officer in the city. They took it upon themselves to show us their city, introduce us to the best restaurants, and supply us with food for our trip. They even insisted on buying our boat tickets. They gave new meaning to what it means to be hospitable.<br /><br />Our host took us to Chongqing's "old city," where he bargained for seafood snacks that we could take on our journey:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCy1BxiI/AAAAAAAABE4/4BoM0jOH4LU/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing41.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqCy1BxiI/AAAAAAAABE4/4BoM0jOH4LU/s400/09CHINAChongqing41.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636369380361762" /></a><br /><br />In the old city, this man was selling sculptures made of some sort of molasses:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqDF7kREI/AAAAAAAABFA/uPZ_H6khmQM/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing45.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqDF7kREI/AAAAAAAABFA/uPZ_H6khmQM/s400/09CHINAChongqing45.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636374508061762" /></a><br /><br />Much of the old city consists of tiny shops and restaurants lining busy pedestrian walkways:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqYzwWb6I/AAAAAAAABFI/F9tfuW1mC2c/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing52.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqYzwWb6I/AAAAAAAABFI/F9tfuW1mC2c/s400/09CHINAChongqing52.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636747586301858" /></a><br /><br />An undeniable highlight of Chongqing is hotpot. Chongqing shares the reputation for having spicy, tasty food that its provincial neighbor, Sichuan, bears. Hotpot consists of a large bowl of boiling water and spices, into which you dip vegetables and pieces of raw meat until they are cooked. Unlike the burning sensation one feels while eating, say, a jalapeƱo, I found that the peppers used in Sichuan hotpot made my mouth entirely numb. Weird sensation, delicious food.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqZPMQ-dI/AAAAAAAABFQ/_KslDcVzXFw/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing59.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqZPMQ-dI/AAAAAAAABFQ/_KslDcVzXFw/s400/09CHINAChongqing59.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636754951141842" /></a><br /><br />Fang eyeing hotpot:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqZnxolqI/AAAAAAAABFY/G-Dosuxr-DE/s1600-h/09CHINAChongqing62.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUqZnxolqI/AAAAAAAABFY/G-Dosuxr-DE/s400/09CHINAChongqing62.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234636761550329506" /></a><br /><br />After boarding our boat, Fang and I decided to spend most of our time on the patio, where we could enjoy views of the passing towns, construction projects, and, of course, the gorges. Occasionally we passed markers that read "175m," denoting the 175 meter point at which the water will rise upon the dam's completion in 2011:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpTi-x_xtI/AAAAAAAABGg/AopWi7oQEls/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpTi-x_xtI/AAAAAAAABGg/AopWi7oQEls/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236089377204979410" /></a><br /><br />While Fang and I took the more leisurely boat, there are also futuristic-looking hydrofoils that cut the trip down from three days to a mere eleven hours:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpTng5HOyI/AAAAAAAABHA/kll5gyXoKfE/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpTng5HOyI/AAAAAAAABHA/kll5gyXoKfE/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges049.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236089455081110306" /></a><br /><br />Our boat actually got to the Three Gorges toward the end of the trip. Each gorge has a slightly different look and feel due to the height of surrounding cliffs and the length of the gorge itself. Fang and me among the gorges:<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUeqPzxWI/AAAAAAAABHI/g7iEsOkzOfI/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges060.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUeqPzxWI/AAAAAAAABHI/g7iEsOkzOfI/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236090402485028194" /></a><br /><br />One of the gorges:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUfu8REDI/AAAAAAAABHQ/2aro5sxTUbQ/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUfu8REDI/AAAAAAAABHQ/2aro5sxTUbQ/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236090420925108274" /></a><br /><br />Other travelers enjoying the dramatic views:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUg5kMOSI/AAAAAAAABHY/sbWfX04teco/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges087.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUg5kMOSI/AAAAAAAABHY/sbWfX04teco/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236090440956786978" /></a><br /><br />We had a chance to do a short side-trip to an area called "Little Three Gorges." Part of the trip took place in a little motor boat, with this animated guy as our guide:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUja0zmKI/AAAAAAAABHg/BAuZZlJlQBg/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUja0zmKI/AAAAAAAABHg/BAuZZlJlQBg/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236090484244584610" /></a><br /><br />In the United States, the Three Gorges Dam finds its way into the news not only due to its sheer size, but also due to the controversy surrounding it. 1.4 million residents have been relocated as the river's waters rise to the 175 meter mark, contributing to the vast migration of Chinese citizens from the countryside to the cities. This process of migration has been dramatized, and is now performed on stage at one of the towns on the river's edge. This photo is of one scene in the drama, in which an elderly man, with the assistance of government officials, leaves the home he has known for many years:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUj3ZlcfI/AAAAAAAABHo/elVmNVVlH90/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges114.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpUj3ZlcfI/AAAAAAAABHo/elVmNVVlH90/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236090491915039218" /></a><br /><br />On the final day of our boat trip, we arrived at the Three Gorges Dam. This model represents the dam:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVZI0Gl2I/AAAAAAAABHw/eyBfx8jA1oE/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges145.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVZI0Gl2I/AAAAAAAABHw/eyBfx8jA1oE/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges145.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091407122732898" /></a><br /><br />Not understanding the tour guide's explanation at the model, I decided to start flipping through some books in the bookstore. I found this characteristic enthusiasm for the dam in the foreword of one of the books:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVZroqKDI/AAAAAAAABH4/LcfDZIs7jpM/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges147.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVZroqKDI/AAAAAAAABH4/LcfDZIs7jpM/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges147.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091416469973042" /></a><br /><br />Of course, with so much construction going on this can be a very dangerous area, so there is no crowdingin allowed:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVaXH5WcI/AAAAAAAABIA/U67gi-2mxjs/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges160.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVaXH5WcI/AAAAAAAABIA/U67gi-2mxjs/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges160.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091428143716802" /></a><br /><br />A view of the Three Gorges Dam with a monument dedicated to it:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVbJ5g1XI/AAAAAAAABII/_XCyBRWoRpo/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges162.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVbJ5g1XI/AAAAAAAABII/_XCyBRWoRpo/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges162.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091441773598066" /></a><br /><br />Some views of the dam:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVbdLpcrI/AAAAAAAABIQ/MaPZhqhkSw0/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges173.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVbdLpcrI/AAAAAAAABIQ/MaPZhqhkSw0/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges173.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091446949933746" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVvcO_pSI/AAAAAAAABIY/ugxi7ry-l3o/s1600-h/10CHINAThreeGorges175.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKpVvcO_pSI/AAAAAAAABIY/ugxi7ry-l3o/s400/10CHINAThreeGorges175.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236091790292919586" /></a><br /><br />Coming up next: the solo journey begins again, speaking Chinese becomes a necessity, and I move in with a family.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-4073394993047632952008-08-11T19:37:00.018-05:002008-08-15T16:04:22.561-05:00China Part 3: Daggers, May Day, and Women on LogsAfter spending time wandering around the "Dragon's Backbone" rice terraces around Longsheng and Ping An, Fang and I traveled by bus through several ethnic minority villages, including Zhaoxing, Basha, and Xijiang. We ended this leg of our trip in the city of Guiyang. I've charted our route from Longsheng to Guiyang on this map:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKXkwj5kLeI/AAAAAAAABFg/lSsYCoBHjD8/s1600-h/chinamap03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKXkwj5kLeI/AAAAAAAABFg/lSsYCoBHjD8/s400/chinamap03.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234841664809610722" /></a><br /><br />At the bus station, on the way to the small village of Zhaoxing, I discovered hundreds of ducklings waiting to be transported, and a girl entertaining herself with them:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcCo1B2UI/AAAAAAAAA-c/unzLdhvOaWc/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcCo1B2UI/AAAAAAAAA-c/unzLdhvOaWc/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233424704882202946" /></a><br /><br />Resting among hills, Zhaoxing is a collection of wooden buildings that serve as homes and small shops and restaurants. Like Ping An, Zhaoxing is home to one of China's many ethnic minorities.<br /><br />Zhaoxing during the day:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcCzPxEKI/AAAAAAAAA-k/gsUh28_8mmQ/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcCzPxEKI/AAAAAAAAA-k/gsUh28_8mmQ/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233424707678703778" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcDwNqACI/AAAAAAAAA-0/ygM6PauOpRg/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing027.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcDwNqACI/AAAAAAAAA-0/ygM6PauOpRg/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233424724044415010" /></a><br /><br />Locals doing their laundry in the stream that runs through the village:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcDbrie7I/AAAAAAAAA-s/S9Vj24sdqYA/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing019.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcDbrie7I/AAAAAAAAA-s/S9Vj24sdqYA/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233424718532606898" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcEC6TL2I/AAAAAAAAA-8/M6L4ezrLkVQ/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDcEC6TL2I/AAAAAAAAA-8/M6L4ezrLkVQ/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233424729063501666" /></a><br /><br />Also like Ping An, the hills surrounding Zhaoxing have been used for generations for rice cultivation. While Ping An's terraces seemed to be similar in color, Zhaoxing's ranged from deep red to orange, brown, and green.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdKgfkY8I/AAAAAAAAA_E/79lFJjfH0C0/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing094.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdKgfkY8I/AAAAAAAAA_E/79lFJjfH0C0/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing094.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233425939595289538" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdK78vyeI/AAAAAAAAA_M/iQwpoyXciDE/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing097.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdK78vyeI/AAAAAAAAA_M/iQwpoyXciDE/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233425946965428706" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdLLoy0NI/AAAAAAAAA_U/5HYMb5_dLZY/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing113.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdLLoy0NI/AAAAAAAAA_U/5HYMb5_dLZY/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing113.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233425951176708306" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdLdnItlI/AAAAAAAAA_c/wDex7adcs3E/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdLdnItlI/AAAAAAAAA_c/wDex7adcs3E/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233425956001592914" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdL4C_QSI/AAAAAAAAA_k/OR5PlnZTVcA/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing124.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDdL4C_QSI/AAAAAAAAA_k/OR5PlnZTVcA/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing124.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233425963097735458" /></a><br /><br />Zhaoxing takes on a different feel at night, when orange and red lights illuminate the village:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDed5aH4-I/AAAAAAAAA_0/E-L7CRV835g/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing133.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDed5aH4-I/AAAAAAAAA_0/E-L7CRV835g/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233427372212478946" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDedhZNfPI/AAAAAAAAA_s/oZNubm5EtM0/s1600-h/05CHINAZhaoxing131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKDedhZNfPI/AAAAAAAAA_s/oZNubm5EtM0/s400/05CHINAZhaoxing131.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233427365766200562" /></a><br /><br />Following Zhaoxing, Fang and I traveled to the tiny village of Basha. While Basha is known as being home to yet another of China's ethnic minorities, it stands apart from other villages. This fact is immediately apparent in the way locals dress: males, for example, carry daggers strapped to their backs, and keep their hair in top knots. Basha's clothing is usually characterized by a deep, shiny indigo color, shiny because it is covered in eggs whites that are believed to serve as a mosquito repellent. Many of the traditions in Basha have persisted for centuries, strangely unaffected by globalization or tourism.<br /><br />Local girls having popsicles:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmdb4ZTcI/AAAAAAAAA_8/s0M-VDAYQJ0/s1600-h/06CHINABasha01.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmdb4ZTcI/AAAAAAAAA_8/s0M-VDAYQJ0/s400/06CHINABasha01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234632429030428098" /></a><br /><br />A boy and his dad:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmdncd-vI/AAAAAAAABAE/TbNnzqVFbqk/s1600-h/06CHINABasha15.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmdncd-vI/AAAAAAAABAE/TbNnzqVFbqk/s400/06CHINABasha15.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234632432134519538" /></a><br /><br />Working on a gun:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmd0q8KII/AAAAAAAABAM/A88DhRAALy0/s1600-h/06CHINABasha24.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmd0q8KII/AAAAAAAABAM/A88DhRAALy0/s400/06CHINABasha24.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234632435684878466" /></a><br /><br />For the May Day festivities, Fang and I traveled to Xijiang, another ethnic minority village. The place was completely alive with activities, from dancing and singing to constructing new buildings and slaughtering pigs.<br /><br />Construction workers on May Day:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmefTnW8I/AAAAAAAABAY/g4KYECC-jXo/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang012.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmefTnW8I/AAAAAAAABAY/g4KYECC-jXo/s400/07CHINAXijiang012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234632447129770946" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBflTe5I/AAAAAAAABBI/1fvKY54zodo/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBflTe5I/AAAAAAAABBI/1fvKY54zodo/s400/07CHINAXijiang089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633048499387282" /></a><br /><br />Female dancers preparing for their performance:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmfMEJuYI/AAAAAAAABAk/DQHZiEwdnqs/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUmfMEJuYI/AAAAAAAABAk/DQHZiEwdnqs/s400/07CHINAXijiang025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234632459144509826" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnATx0HSI/AAAAAAAABAw/C2AYLhWANuo/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnATx0HSI/AAAAAAAABAw/C2AYLhWANuo/s400/07CHINAXijiang035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633028150762786" /></a><br /><br />Dresses for sale in the town center:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnAvoNPAI/AAAAAAAABA4/pfAVzbDqdzk/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnAvoNPAI/AAAAAAAABA4/pfAVzbDqdzk/s400/07CHINAXijiang073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633035626658818" /></a><br /><br />The local specialty: stewed fish. The man in this picture found out that I was interested in trying the fish, which was only served in enormous family portions. As a result, he invited Fang and me to share lunch with him and his family. The fish definitely deserves its reputation--it was great.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBEWJarI/AAAAAAAABBA/ZcYDkcSNDiI/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang083.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBEWJarI/AAAAAAAABBA/ZcYDkcSNDiI/s400/07CHINAXijiang083.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633041188055730" /></a><br /><br />A common view in Xijiang: hanging corn<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBsq52YI/AAAAAAAABBQ/qfLnUIRF8Kk/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnBsq52YI/AAAAAAAABBQ/qfLnUIRF8Kk/s400/07CHINAXijiang100.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633052012534146" /></a><br /><br />May Day performances:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnk7WhyhI/AAAAAAAABBY/w1JWyz-grZQ/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang104.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnk7WhyhI/AAAAAAAABBY/w1JWyz-grZQ/s400/07CHINAXijiang104.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633657249024530" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnlA60BxI/AAAAAAAABBg/uJSW553dmXM/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang125.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnlA60BxI/AAAAAAAABBg/uJSW553dmXM/s400/07CHINAXijiang125.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633658743392018" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnlkvSjuI/AAAAAAAABBo/ydIy735u97A/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang140.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnlkvSjuI/AAAAAAAABBo/ydIy735u97A/s400/07CHINAXijiang140.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633668358737634" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoGronfeI/AAAAAAAABCI/HOK3j9t23dE/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang181.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoGronfeI/AAAAAAAABCI/HOK3j9t23dE/s400/07CHINAXijiang181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634237145480674" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnl3jGSZI/AAAAAAAABBw/8pEM5VQ0h9w/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang146.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnl3jGSZI/AAAAAAAABBw/8pEM5VQ0h9w/s400/07CHINAXijiang146.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633673407875474" /></a><br /><br />Sometimes I became a bigger spectacle than the performance itself:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnmG68jdI/AAAAAAAABB4/fVJii5I29TM/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang149.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUnmG68jdI/AAAAAAAABB4/fVJii5I29TM/s400/07CHINAXijiang149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234633677534432722" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoGGl6VXI/AAAAAAAABCA/bnX624lTMVw/s1600-h/07CHINAXijiang177.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoGGl6VXI/AAAAAAAABCA/bnX624lTMVw/s400/07CHINAXijiang177.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634227202020722" /></a><br /><br /><br />After hopping among ethnic minority villages, it was time for Fang and me to begin making our way to our boat that would take us on a cruise of the Three Gorges. En route to our boat, we stopped by the city of Guiyang, where we stayed with a wonderful host named Shirley, and her boyfriend, Charles. Shirley and Charles immediately invited us to join them and their family at a lakeside resort, where we flew remote control planes and helicopters, went swimming and kayaking, and did some skeet shooting. People had told me before I arrived in China, but now I know firsthand just how incredible Chinese hospitality is.<br /><br />Charles with his RC helicopter:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoG8kJydI/AAAAAAAABCQ/o4KaEpDTMdU/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoG8kJydI/AAAAAAAABCQ/o4KaEpDTMdU/s400/08CHINAGuiyang001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634241690159570" /></a><br /><br />Fang, Shirley, and helicopter:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoHRtNmMI/AAAAAAAABCY/FYeQAFoWbrE/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoHRtNmMI/AAAAAAAABCY/FYeQAFoWbrE/s400/08CHINAGuiyang004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634247365302466" /></a><br /><br />Our little group posing with the RC plane:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoHvME4CI/AAAAAAAABCg/H05ciLkdcGU/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoHvME4CI/AAAAAAAABCg/H05ciLkdcGU/s400/08CHINAGuiyang031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634255279382562" /></a><br /><br />The whole family and friends:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoov50QmI/AAAAAAAABCo/c8QF52TYEWE/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoov50QmI/AAAAAAAABCo/c8QF52TYEWE/s400/08CHINAGuiyang032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634822406914658" /></a><br /><br />My first time shooting:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUooywRQ0I/AAAAAAAABCw/-KPnZvGVfkM/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUooywRQ0I/AAAAAAAABCw/-KPnZvGVfkM/s400/08CHINAGuiyang040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634823172178754" /></a><br /><br />Going to dinner in Guiyang's night market was way more entertaining than we were expecting, thanks to the government-mandated English menus:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUopU12rVI/AAAAAAAABC4/raHud5eY_4I/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUopU12rVI/AAAAAAAABC4/raHud5eY_4I/s400/08CHINAGuiyang050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634832322407762" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUop3jKeiI/AAAAAAAABDA/vX8_unSo2yg/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang054.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUop3jKeiI/AAAAAAAABDA/vX8_unSo2yg/s400/08CHINAGuiyang054.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634841639254562" /></a><br /><br />Fortunately, we found a great place that served paper thin tortilla-like objects that you stuffed and tried to eat in one bite:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoqRiFu2I/AAAAAAAABDI/fRxWjoEy_bQ/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang058.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUoqRiFu2I/AAAAAAAABDI/fRxWjoEy_bQ/s400/08CHINAGuiyang058.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234634848614071138" /></a><br /><br />One morning, while walking to breakfast, Fang, Shirley, and I ran into a large crowd of spectators on a bridge. We soon found the object of interest: a large woman performing aerobic exercises on a log floating on the river:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpEZNqmFI/AAAAAAAABDQ/t0dffZWPM4E/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang064.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpEZNqmFI/AAAAAAAABDQ/t0dffZWPM4E/s400/08CHINAGuiyang064.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635297352489042" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpEhdrpkI/AAAAAAAABDY/qqT__BeW5c8/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang079.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpEhdrpkI/AAAAAAAABDY/qqT__BeW5c8/s400/08CHINAGuiyang079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635299567150658" /></a><br /><br />She noticed me and my camera, and began posing (not that she wasn't photogenic before):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpE5yJf6I/AAAAAAAABDg/opkg5E09gLk/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang082.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpE5yJf6I/AAAAAAAABDg/opkg5E09gLk/s400/08CHINAGuiyang082.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635306095443874" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpFR16zrI/AAAAAAAABDo/u0a8GuHGPP4/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang083.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpFR16zrI/AAAAAAAABDo/u0a8GuHGPP4/s400/08CHINAGuiyang083.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635312553709234" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpFlraQII/AAAAAAAABDw/tDd629DNi70/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang091.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpFlraQII/AAAAAAAABDw/tDd629DNi70/s400/08CHINAGuiyang091.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635317878341762" /></a><br /><br />Guiyang's Super Wal-Mart, entirely underground:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpjO1xb1I/AAAAAAAABD4/HWMD73utGmI/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpjO1xb1I/AAAAAAAABD4/HWMD73utGmI/s400/08CHINAGuiyang100.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635827143864146" /></a><br /><br />A large group of locals selling and trading carrier pigeons:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpjpHMXYI/AAAAAAAABEA/CuiHVjZLyX8/s1600-h/08CHINAGuiyang103.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SKUpjpHMXYI/AAAAAAAABEA/CuiHVjZLyX8/s400/08CHINAGuiyang103.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234635834196254082" /></a><br /><br />Next time: floating down the Yangtze, to the world's largest dam.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-47377745893287371832008-07-28T13:11:00.009-05:002008-07-28T14:16:53.077-05:00China Part 2: Wandering the Dragon's BackboneFollowing Yangshuo and Xingping, Fang and I boarded a bus and traveled to Longsheng, the gateway to the "Dragon's Backbone" rice terraces. From Longsheng, we made the short, winding trip to the tiny hillside village of Ping An, which is where we stayed while exploring the terraces. I've marked Longsheng on this map in red:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4ViZJsS4I/AAAAAAAAA-U/LfuL4pO5GYY/s1600-h/chinamap02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4ViZJsS4I/AAAAAAAAA-U/LfuL4pO5GYY/s400/chinamap02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228139898034998146" /></a><br /><br />The village of Ping An is extremely old and has some beautiful wooden homes and buildings that rest on the side of some steep hills:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NKLJsVII/AAAAAAAAA8k/yhkd2nQkzLc/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NKLJsVII/AAAAAAAAA8k/yhkd2nQkzLc/s400/04CHINAPingAn041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228130685867021442" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PtLJpqhI/AAAAAAAAA9M/00PrlX1lScM/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn195.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PtLJpqhI/AAAAAAAAA9M/00PrlX1lScM/s400/04CHINAPingAn195.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228133486185523730" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PsD9Kz4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/5SpbaxEhOgA/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn190.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PsD9Kz4I/AAAAAAAAA9E/5SpbaxEhOgA/s400/04CHINAPingAn190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228133467074252674" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PtZ0LPnI/AAAAAAAAA9U/W9XzZwLHRX4/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn203.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PtZ0LPnI/AAAAAAAAA9U/W9XzZwLHRX4/s400/04CHINAPingAn203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228133490121981554" /></a><br /><br />A grave immediately outside the town:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NKg8Sx_I/AAAAAAAAA8s/-g-sxTCEnrY/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn121.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NKg8Sx_I/AAAAAAAAA8s/-g-sxTCEnrY/s400/04CHINAPingAn121.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228130691716401138" /></a><br /><br />Like the karst hills that line the Li River, the rice terraces of the area around Longsheng have become an image immediately associated with China's landscapes. The terraces, which have been maintained for centuries, seem to be never-ending, becoming an inseparable part of the hillside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4Ro4m03EI/AAAAAAAAA9k/CVS5tC-wkkY/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn233.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4Ro4m03EI/AAAAAAAAA9k/CVS5tC-wkkY/s400/04CHINAPingAn233.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228135611511397442" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RqKkMCLI/AAAAAAAAA98/iQm6uZNAObY/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn259.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RqKkMCLI/AAAAAAAAA98/iQm6uZNAObY/s400/04CHINAPingAn259.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228135633512040626" /></a><br /><br />We occasionally saw both women and men working hard in the terraces, up to their knees in mud. To maintain the terraces and provide water to the rice, locals also employ some ingeniously simple techniques, including bamboo water pipes, and miniature waterfalls carved into the terraces.<br /><br />A man working next to a series of small waterfalls:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4S4_Wr8yI/AAAAAAAAA-M/71C8a7_kBB4/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn273.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4S4_Wr8yI/AAAAAAAAA-M/71C8a7_kBB4/s400/04CHINAPingAn273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228136987712287522" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RopCJW7I/AAAAAAAAA9c/UvhO5Rp4LiQ/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn223.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RopCJW7I/AAAAAAAAA9c/UvhO5Rp4LiQ/s400/04CHINAPingAn223.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228135607331019698" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PrmUFAaI/AAAAAAAAA88/4iiNWKKsSR4/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn170.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PrmUFAaI/AAAAAAAAA88/4iiNWKKsSR4/s400/04CHINAPingAn170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228133459117277602" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RpTSjlPI/AAAAAAAAA9s/bx1E3zHfCec/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn243.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4RpTSjlPI/AAAAAAAAA9s/bx1E3zHfCec/s400/04CHINAPingAn243.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228135618674136306" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4Rp9sXTkI/AAAAAAAAA90/d8tHK0ck5Lw/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn251.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4Rp9sXTkI/AAAAAAAAA90/d8tHK0ck5Lw/s400/04CHINAPingAn251.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228135630056672834" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PrJYgGHI/AAAAAAAAA80/VsKZjmxDm1E/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4PrJYgGHI/AAAAAAAAA80/VsKZjmxDm1E/s400/04CHINAPingAn134.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228133451351201906" /></a><br /><br />Besides being a great place to view the terraces, Ping An is also home to one of China's many ethnic minorities, which has its own unique traditions and characteristics. This is perhaps most clearly witnessed in the local clothes and jewelry, and for Chinese speakers, in the local dialect.<br /><br />This woman was selling traditional shoes, and makes some darn good sweet potatoes too:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NJcr0euI/AAAAAAAAA8c/jYUrk94fR-M/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4NJcr0euI/AAAAAAAAA8c/jYUrk94fR-M/s400/04CHINAPingAn030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228130673393695458" /></a><br /><br />Unfortunately, many traditional aspects of the local culture are now overtly advertised as a result of the tourist boom. One example of this is the "long-hair women" who traditionally grow their hair five-feet long or more. The women now chase tourists, offering to take their hair out of its bun in exchange for a fee. In the process of running from the "long-hairs," Fang and I got really good at maneuvering through the terraces.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4S4H58xBI/AAAAAAAAA-E/tXczafGAofo/s1600-h/04CHINAPingAn271.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SI4S4H58xBI/AAAAAAAAA-E/tXczafGAofo/s400/04CHINAPingAn271.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228136972827804690" /></a><br /><br />And next, off to Zhaoxing...Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-62158173907552981882008-07-14T19:26:00.013-05:002008-07-16T23:31:04.425-05:00China, part 1: tandem bikes, flying fish, and neonIf there is one destination on my trip that I could call the focal point, it would be China. My journey wouldn't have been complete without it.<br /><br />Ever since I spent a semester in Mongolia in 2004, I've been drawn to China. Mongolians are terrified of their neighbor, convinced that the Chinese are set on devouring Mongolia's land and natural resources while sending them, in exchange, products that always seem to break on them. "The Chinese are trying to poison us," one nomadic herder told me. While I wasn't convinced, in Mongolia it was impossible to be unaware of China's immense influence on its neighbors, and the world. News stories related to China investing in Latin America, China gobbling up the world's steel, and China developing cities the size of London in less than a decade appeared almost daily on BBC News. But in spite of all the news coverage, I think China is a very mysterious country, with very few people outside its borders who really understand it. While living in Mongolia, I became very conscious of and curious about the giant that rested on the other side of the border. But rather than being afraid of China's rising power, I was fascinated by it.<br /><br />When I began planning this trip soon after my college graduation, I initially considered focusing most--if not all--of my six months on China. I considered enrolling in a language school, living with a host family, and even attempting to live with Tibetan monks and herders as I did in Mongolia. I wanted some depth to my understanding of China. After all, as someone whose professional and personal interests lie at the intersection of human rights, economic development, and international business, I was sure this would not be my last interaction with the country.<br /><br />And so, when it was time for me to leave Hanoi and board a bus for Guilin, I felt a strange excitement that I was not about to simply see a new country, but that I was about to begin a relationship with a country that will likely be present in many facets of my life.<br /><br />I spent about six weeks in China, far less than the six months I had daydreamed about, but more than the one month I had ended up budgeting for the trip. It's probably a good idea to provide an overview of where I went, since place names can become very confusing. This map shows my route from Hanoi to Beijing (all travel by land) in red:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SH6s0Qj1B6I/AAAAAAAAA8E/O72bp1CxCnE/s1600-h/chinafulltripmap.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SH6s0Qj1B6I/AAAAAAAAA8E/O72bp1CxCnE/s400/chinafulltripmap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223802631594772386" /></a><br /><br />To give a very dizzying overview of what the map shows: I took a bus from Hanoi, Vietnam, through Nanning, China, and into Guilin. In Guilin, I met up with a friend from college, Fang, who was also traveling. From Guilin, we visited the beautiful green karst hills in Yangshuo and Xingping. From there, we continued northwest to the vast rice terraces of Longsheng and Ping An. After that, we stopped by a few ethnic minority villages, including Zhaoxing, Basha, and Xijiang. We spent a couple days in the city of Guiyang before traveling to Chongqing. In Chongqing, we boarded a boat and traveled east for three days, through the Three Gorges, to Yichang. From Yichang we took a bus to Wuhan. From Wuhan, Fang went to Beijing, and I traveled to Jiujiang, where I lived with a family. Actually, I lived with Dina's family--after Dina and I traveled around Uganda and Tanzania together, she put me in touch with them. After a week in Jiujiang, I lived with other members of Dina's family in a smaller "village" named Xiushui. From Xiushui I traveled to Nanchang, then took a train to Shanghai. From Shanghai I traveled by train to Xi'an, and from Xi'an to Beijing.<br /><br />I'm planning to split these updates into segments, rather than attempting to include photos and thoughts from my entire time in China in one enormous post. This first post will cover my time in Guilin, Yangshuo, and Xingping:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SH6s0iJeUlI/AAAAAAAAA8M/3s3hLoLIOQI/s1600-h/chinamap01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SH6s0iJeUlI/AAAAAAAAA8M/3s3hLoLIOQI/s400/chinamap01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223802636316070482" /></a><br /><br />So, after spending several hours on my bus, I arrived in the surprisingly modern city of Guilin. At least, as the first Chinese city I had seen (almost 1.5 million people live there), it seemed surprisingly modern. Actually, I would soon learn that this city of neon billboards and skyscrapers wasn't especially modern compared to other Chinese cities. But one thing it did have was beautiful scenery, including rolling green hills and a slow river. To get to the really beautiful scenery, though, Fang and I traveled to Yangshuo and the nearby town of Xingping.<br /><br />Xingping is a small town surrounded by green hills that peek down into the town's narrow, winding streets. The view from one of the streets:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwLynlLSI/AAAAAAAAA5k/dnuT1J8-T_Y/s1600-h/02CHINAXingping06.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwLynlLSI/AAAAAAAAA5k/dnuT1J8-T_Y/s400/02CHINAXingping06.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223032278223236386" /></a><br /><br />In Xingping, Fang and I boarded a small wooden raft on the beautiful, serene Li River. This area is characterized by the lush, rolling karst hills that are so often associated with China's landscapes. (By the way, don't worry...I cut off the facial hair).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwMiubpzI/AAAAAAAAA5s/jOSruN5tHbM/s1600-h/02CHINAXingping26.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwMiubpzI/AAAAAAAAA5s/jOSruN5tHbM/s400/02CHINAXingping26.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223032291136874290" /></a><br /><br />It was good to know that I wasn't the only one who stood out as a tourist:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwNCpBxAI/AAAAAAAAA50/fESG38dIfnE/s1600-h/02CHINAXingping42.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwNCpBxAI/AAAAAAAAA50/fESG38dIfnE/s400/02CHINAXingping42.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223032299704140802" /></a><br /><br />The view of Xingping from a nearby mountain:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwNpgOWdI/AAAAAAAAA58/27M5i-9Hpig/s1600-h/02CHINAXingping71.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwNpgOWdI/AAAAAAAAA58/27M5i-9Hpig/s400/02CHINAXingping71.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223032310136199634" /></a><br /><br />Yangshuo, located a short drive from Xingping, serves as a hub for those traveling around the area. As a result, it is filled with small tourist shops, international restaurants (and KFC!), and lots of neon signs. This woman is working in a silk shop:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwOXDqNGI/AAAAAAAAA6E/QS_DK--6ZkU/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo014.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvwOXDqNGI/AAAAAAAAA6E/QS_DK--6ZkU/s400/03CHINAYangshuo014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223032322364421218" /></a><br /><br />Yangshuo's neon:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvymbb1j4I/AAAAAAAAA6c/Or8-hjUyGbM/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvymbb1j4I/AAAAAAAAA6c/Or8-hjUyGbM/s400/03CHINAYangshuo017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223034934879686530" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2Mutx02I/AAAAAAAAA78/memn27bUTTI/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo186.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2Mutx02I/AAAAAAAAA78/memn27bUTTI/s400/03CHINAYangshuo186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223038891425125218" /></a><br /><br />On our second day in Yangshuo, Fang and I decided to push the limits. So we put on our ponchos and rented a tandem bike (Fang is more excited than I was):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvym9n4FeI/AAAAAAAAA6k/7OaADfJrNLk/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvym9n4FeI/AAAAAAAAA6k/7OaADfJrNLk/s400/03CHINAYangshuo024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223034944056989154" /></a><br /><br />Along the way, we saw a guy who was "herding" ducks. Seriously.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvynQvvVPI/AAAAAAAAA6s/SzOz5tusXn8/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvynQvvVPI/AAAAAAAAA6s/SzOz5tusXn8/s400/03CHINAYangshuo040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223034949190243570" /></a><br /><br />Beautiful scenes and lots of mud made frequent stops a necessity:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvylRkwOgI/AAAAAAAAA6M/Q4Ve7TQiL1k/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvylRkwOgI/AAAAAAAAA6M/Q4Ve7TQiL1k/s400/03CHINAYangshuo116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223034915052861954" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvylyGZb8I/AAAAAAAAA6U/c9Zktn0t4HI/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHvylyGZb8I/AAAAAAAAA6U/c9Zktn0t4HI/s400/03CHINAYangshuo118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223034923783909314" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv03_lxt-I/AAAAAAAAA60/8kXaIfhldGU/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo122.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv03_lxt-I/AAAAAAAAA60/8kXaIfhldGU/s400/03CHINAYangshuo122.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223037435666085858" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv04jDeSkI/AAAAAAAAA68/Ugw6vU92nZQ/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo138.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv04jDeSkI/AAAAAAAAA68/Ugw6vU92nZQ/s400/03CHINAYangshuo138.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223037445185882690" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv05jwDwoI/AAAAAAAAA7M/NPHNQCX9MIw/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo153.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv05jwDwoI/AAAAAAAAA7M/NPHNQCX9MIw/s400/03CHINAYangshuo153.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223037462552756866" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv06emURUI/AAAAAAAAA7U/92wyZ2v6WLc/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo158.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv06emURUI/AAAAAAAAA7U/92wyZ2v6WLc/s400/03CHINAYangshuo158.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223037478349587778" /></a><br /><br />After the bike ride, we had worked up quite an appetite. So we went out for the local specialty, snails:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2KrKLcQI/AAAAAAAAA7c/hgfX8xbRfAA/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo163.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2KrKLcQI/AAAAAAAAA7c/hgfX8xbRfAA/s400/03CHINAYangshuo163.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223038856110764290" /></a><br /><br />They're actually really good--a little spicy, a little juicy, really tasty.<br /><br />This man was advertising grass sculptures he makes:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2LE_lC-I/AAAAAAAAA7k/M_GtSlr0uCM/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo170.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2LE_lC-I/AAAAAAAAA7k/M_GtSlr0uCM/s400/03CHINAYangshuo170.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223038863045626850" /></a><br /><br />One thing that became very clear over the course of my travels is the influence "Lonely Planet" travel guides have on many local economies. A negative review in the guide can destroy a shop or restaurant, while a good review can spell prosperity (and hour-long lines) for one. The owner of this restaurant gets the point:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2Lxldy9I/AAAAAAAAA7s/POk2EbiZ8fs/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo172.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2Lxldy9I/AAAAAAAAA7s/POk2EbiZ8fs/s400/03CHINAYangshuo172.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223038875015695314" /></a><br /><br />I was walking down the street, enjoying the shops and activity, when I saw a guy reach into a fish tank, pull a fish out, and slam it against the ground. After the thing flew four feet in the air, the guy picked it up, walked into a nearby restaurant, and handed it to a cook who started cooking it. I waited for three more people to order the fish plate before I finally (somewhat unsuccessfully) got a picture of it:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2MNeMXdI/AAAAAAAAA70/5bhe6S0mXXc/s1600-h/03CHINAYangshuo175.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SHv2MNeMXdI/AAAAAAAAA70/5bhe6S0mXXc/s400/03CHINAYangshuo175.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223038882501385682" /></a><br /><br />Check back soon for part 2, the "Dragon's Backbone" rice terraces.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-89960291349119234892008-07-09T19:30:00.002-05:002008-07-09T19:46:04.138-05:00170 days later...After 170 days, 19 countries, 9,000 pictures, 1 hospital visit, and 0 robberies, the journey is officially over. And it was an incredible one, filled with wonderful friends (both new and old), spectacular places, valuable lessons, and so much more. I donāt know if Iāll ever arrive at a point at which I can adequately put it all into words. But I think thatās the way it should be.<br /><br />Back home in Orlando, Florida, Iāve been enjoying motorcycle rides, time with family, and a nice, big, soft bed. With my laptop back in my possession, Iāve been busily organizing photographs in preparation of posting them here. I have a lot of catching up to do. Iām planning to post the first of several updates on China very soon, and after that Iāll begin posting photos from my travels with my dad and brother in Europe.<br /><br />I am very grateful to you all for visiting my blog, and especially grateful to those of you who sent me comments and emailsāitās a great feeling to know so many people took an interest in my wanderings (and my well-being!). I hope you learned something, and, ideally, that you found in my posts a little motivation to do some wandering of your own.<br /><br />Well, as I said, I'm going to be sorting my photos and posting a first update on China soon, with others to follow. I hope you'll check back soon!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-91326993853134771482008-06-19T17:09:00.015-05:002008-06-22T16:05:46.484-05:00Catching up on Laos and VietnamGreetings from Luxembourg! I hope you've enjoyed the photos and brief update on Cambodia. This post is going to be a bit different; I'm going to post photos from Laos and Vietnam at the beginning, but, because most of the details providing the background to the photos were in my April 21st post "Hanoi Syndrome," I'm re-including that post immediately after the photos. I hope you enjoy reading (or re-reading), and that you enjoy the photos from Laos and Vietnam.<br /><br /><br />From Laos:<br /><br />A view of my island among the "4000 Islands" in southern Laos:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrga2w1yBI/AAAAAAAAA3M/pJrEP1C5np0/s1600-h/01.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrga2w1yBI/AAAAAAAAA3M/pJrEP1C5np0/s400/01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213726270616356882" /></a><br /><br />The Mekong at sunset, just after I went for a swim:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrgbcT86yI/AAAAAAAAA3U/JpJteIC5niw/s1600-h/02.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrgbcT86yI/AAAAAAAAA3U/JpJteIC5niw/s400/02.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213726280695737122" /></a><br /><br /><br />From Vietnam:<br /><br />āUncle Hoā on a billboard in downtown Hanoi:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrn22icAfI/AAAAAAAAA3c/iM1aZezUmFw/s1600-h/01.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFrn22icAfI/AAAAAAAAA3c/iM1aZezUmFw/s400/01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213734448173679090" /></a><br /><br />Hanoi traffic-āIāve seen crazy driving in many countries, but Hanoi is simply shocking. And the secret to crossing a street on foot? āMake eye contact with oncoming traffic and keep walking. Whatever you do, donāt run.ā It actually works-āoncoming traffic wonāt stop for you, but at least they go around you. Hereās a shot of traffic at night:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFtYyba78MI/AAAAAAAAA3k/h6t4tFxmP4c/s1600-h/02.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFtYyba78MI/AAAAAAAAA3k/h6t4tFxmP4c/s400/02.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213858616988922050" /></a><br /><br />Hanoi at night:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF61tpqvbtI/AAAAAAAAA3s/q4yf2SJH3F4/s1600-h/03.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF61tpqvbtI/AAAAAAAAA3s/q4yf2SJH3F4/s400/03.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214805214425476818" /></a><br /><br />I took a brief trip to Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage Site where tons of beautiful green karst hills emerge from the water. The ride out:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF62YEsbKdI/AAAAAAAAA30/yBzgW1xsVVA/s1600-h/04.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF62YEsbKdI/AAAAAAAAA30/yBzgW1xsVVA/s400/04.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214805943234800082" /></a><br /><br />An overhead view of a woman selling fruit from her boat to ours:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF62YfXBHZI/AAAAAAAAA38/xC4pjo9Q_g4/s1600-h/05.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF62YfXBHZI/AAAAAAAAA38/xC4pjo9Q_g4/s400/05.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214805950392769938" /></a><br /><br />Ha Long Bay:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63Kvn7qlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/pVn9yDGI5Pk/s1600-h/06.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63Kvn7qlI/AAAAAAAAA4E/pVn9yDGI5Pk/s400/06.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214806813752142418" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63LpV9aXI/AAAAAAAAA4U/YNcRDjGRdRw/s1600-h/08.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63LpV9aXI/AAAAAAAAA4U/YNcRDjGRdRw/s400/08.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214806829246015858" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65HoaPNQI/AAAAAAAAA4c/B0lF4Gt6eiI/s1600-h/09.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65HoaPNQI/AAAAAAAAA4c/B0lF4Gt6eiI/s400/09.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214808959299302658" /></a><br /><br />Taking a boat to a lagoon:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63LOGLutI/AAAAAAAAA4M/H5Dg9MZj0dc/s1600-h/07.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF63LOGLutI/AAAAAAAAA4M/H5Dg9MZj0dc/s400/07.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214806821932088018" /></a><br /><br />In Hanoi I was eager to hear the opinions of locals toward Americans and the American War (our Vietnam War). As a result, I visited the Hoa Lo Prison Museum (also called the āHanoi Hiltonā), a prison used to keep captured American soldiers during the war. The place was very interestingāIāll let a few photos of the exhibits speak for the museum itself:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65H4Dse1I/AAAAAAAAA4k/7M5jVES4svo/s1600-h/10.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65H4Dse1I/AAAAAAAAA4k/7M5jVES4svo/s400/10.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214808963499719506" /></a><br /><br />Photographs of buildings in Hanoi (including schools and hospitals) destroyed by American bombs:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65IMf1_QI/AAAAAAAAA4s/BfXzGk4q7lg/s1600-h/11.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65IMf1_QI/AAAAAAAAA4s/BfXzGk4q7lg/s400/11.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214808968986492162" /></a><br /><br />A document carried by American pilots in case of an emergency. The document, copied in various languages, reads: āI am a citizen of the United States of America. I do not speak your language. Misfortune forces me to seek your assistance in obtaining food, shelter, and protection. Please take me to someone who will provide for my safety and see that I am returned to my people. My government will reward you.ā<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65ItaS0SI/AAAAAAAAA40/eJK06ViWU6c/s1600-h/12.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65ItaS0SI/AAAAAAAAA40/eJK06ViWU6c/s400/12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214808977821585698" /></a><br /><br />John McCain spent several years in the Hanoi Hilton. His belongings on display:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65I3Z7caI/AAAAAAAAA48/Yy-PvTKVMQ4/s1600-h/13.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF65I3Z7caI/AAAAAAAAA48/Yy-PvTKVMQ4/s400/13.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214808980504408482" /></a><br /><br />The plaque in front of McCainās display:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wBM5oVI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Hnu7Y6S-INc/s1600-h/14.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wBM5oVI/AAAAAAAAA5E/Hnu7Y6S-INc/s400/14.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214810752660644178" /></a><br /><br />The regulations of the Hanoi Hilton:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wQsfPJI/AAAAAAAAA5M/3Qh4Nqp9qL8/s1600-h/15.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wQsfPJI/AAAAAAAAA5M/3Qh4Nqp9qL8/s400/15.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214810756819664018" /></a><br /><br />Photographs of famous individuals who have visited the museum, including Bill Clinton, George Bush, and John McCain:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wm3h8AI/AAAAAAAAA5U/u_kIcKTL84U/s1600-h/16.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66wm3h8AI/AAAAAAAAA5U/u_kIcKTL84U/s400/16.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214810762771558402" /></a><br /><br />Finally, a shot of the place where you can find Hanoiās biggest crowdsā-outside the ice cream shop:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66xGDns5I/AAAAAAAAA5c/5HzvXy7wo-Y/s1600-h/17.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SF66xGDns5I/AAAAAAAAA5c/5HzvXy7wo-Y/s400/17.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214810771143766930" /></a><br /><br />For more details on my experiences in Laos and Vietnam, please read my "Hanoi Syndrome" post below. Otherwise, please check back soon for my posts on China. Iām wishing you all the best!<br /><br /><br />"Hanoi Syndrome" (Re-post from April 21st):<br /><br />As you can tell from the title of this post, my plans changed a little: instead of heading to China through Laos, I decided to head to Vietnam from Laos, and to China from Vietnam.<br /><br />Although I cut my time in Laos short, it was due to my being drawn to Vietnam rather than being bored with Laos. Laos is a very special country, and my experience there was what many travelers dream of having at some point on their journey: a chance to get below the surface, to become close with locals, to experience the "real" side of things.<br /><br />Without a doubt, my time in Laos was made especially unique by the fact that my visit coincided with the Lunar New Year. In Laos (as well as Thailand and Cambodia), New Year celebrations revolve around beer and water, and last for three days (four this year, since the first day landed on a Sunday). In Laos, groups gather along the road, dancing and drinking beer, and tossing buckets of water at people passing by. Itās sweltering in the region, so I was happy to be soaked. Combine huge celebrations with a very warm and welcoming country, and I was in for a good time. On my first night in the southern town of Savanakhet, I went to a big New Year party at a club called āDinosaoā with a Lao friend I made on the bus. The party was complete with loud music, dancing, and the best beer in the region: BeerLao.<br /><br />The next day the streets were crowded with people celebrating, everyone soaked with water. I rented a bicycle to be able to see some of the city farther from my hotel, but I should have just walked--before long the locals had pulled me off my bike, handed me a glass of beer, and gave me a bucket. I spent the rest of the day sharing beers and throwing water at anyone driving, riding, walking, or running down the street. Anyone except the police, who seem to be feared throughout the country (Laos is strictly controlled by the authorities; the people are forbidden to voice political dissent, and have a curfew (which seems to be loosely enforced during the New Year)). The group I joined for the water-throwing invited me to a snack of chickens' feet, then we were off in the pickup, hauling huge tubs of water in the back that we tossed at the crowds we passed. Afterward, as the sun went down, we went to a great restaurant and had huge bowls of noodle soup.<br /><br />The next day, as the celebrations wound down and the remaining garbage lined the abandoned streets, I arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. The city seemed exhausted following the festivities--some restaurants and shops were open, but for the most part the town seemed a little bit hungover. It was when I began contemplating returning to a coffee shop to sit and read that I realized I should move on, and a thought that's been nagging at me since I arrived in Southeast Asia returned: I should go to Vietnam.<br /><br />I decided it was my obligation to go to Vietnam for a couple reasons: First, I worked with young Vietnamese immigrants and their families four years while in college. Second, as a US citizen and a student of history, I needed to see and experience firsthand the country that so significantly affected the US. So instead of returning to that coffee shop in Vientiane, I went to the Vietnamese Embassy. I got a visa in fifteen minutes, and had booked a flight within the hour. I left that evening for Hanoi.<br /><br />Hanoi is a rough, tough, resilient place, but I'm very glad I decided to visit. It's difficult to travel alone here, especially as a Westerner. Within my first 24 hours in Hanoi, I was left on the side of a highway when I refused to pay a taxi driver who tried to rip me off, my paid hotel room was given away to someone else, I got in an argument with a receptionist at another hotel who insisted that I give him my passport overnight (I soon found out this is national policy, but they also accept a copy), and, to top it off, my ATM card was confiscated by an ATM machine. The locals were rarely sympathetic--it took me two hours to figure out how to take buses from the highway to a hotel since few people cared I was lost, and even fewer spoke English. But by the end of those first 24 hours, I was still fascinated by Hanoi. I felt like I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome--even though I was beaten and bruised, I had no urge to leave. I wanted to experience more.<br /><br />There really is something fascinating about this place; going to museums and seeing photographs of sections of the city levelled by B-52s, passing by huge billboards of a smiling Ho Chi Minh holding a baby (or, much more jolting, seeing an embalmed Ho Chi Minh resting in his mausoleum). I never shy away when people ask me where I'm from. They usually respond with an ambiguous "Oh, America! Very good, very good! Nice country!" And I wonder what complex thoughts and emotions underly those kind words. Fortunately, after spending many hours wandering in and out of restaurants, cafes, shops, and various sites throughout the city, I've met a few Vietnamese people who not only have a firm grasp of English, but who are also willing to answer the many questions I have. They emphasize that while the Vietnamese have mixed feelings toward Americans and the United States, there are few hard feelings still held concerning the "American War." They emphasize that the country has moved on. And the city itself attests to that; Hanoi is a city that is changing, and fast. Nonetheless, I can't help but notice the intense stares I get from the city's older citizens, which I don't notice from anyone else.<br /><br />If there's one thing I could add to my trip thus far, it would be a visit to southern Vietnam. "The south is so much different from the north," a man from Ho Chi Minh City told me, "not only are we much better about serving visitors, but we also have a much stronger economy." Then, with a smile he said, "You know, we are also much more influenced by America than the north is." I was surprised to hear him say this, especially since I noticed a hint of pride in his voice. I remembered what a man who lives in Vietnam told me during my stay in Cambodia: "If the people in southern Vietnam have hard feelings toward America, it's not because the US was fighting there; it's because the US abandoned them."<br /><br />For me, being in Vietnam prompts mixed, complex emotions that are very difficult to sort out and reconcile. At points I'm extremely frustrated, feeling like no one in the city cares about my well being. Moments later I have a knot in my throat, having seen images of screaming children running from a bombed, burning building that once stood a few kilometers from where I'm standing. Then later in the day, after following a huge crowd of people to an ice cream shop, I can't wipe the smile off my face. Kids on bicycles say "hello" to me, people are smiling, I overhear a young guy next to me say "Hi" to a girl from Taiwan. "She's so pretty!" he says to me after she walks away.<br /><br />Today was a bittersweet day, as it was my last full day in Vietnam. Tomorrow morning I'll begin my journey to Guilin, China, by bus.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-84288978911923261492008-06-12T17:08:00.021-05:002008-06-13T17:37:55.643-05:00Catching up: CambodiaHello from Sorrento, Italy, where Iāve been enjoying beautiful views of the sea with my dad and brother. We met up in London, rented a car in Paris, and will be driving around Italy for the next few weeks. But an update on our travels together must wait. I have some catching up to do.<br /><br />After a 1.5 month hiatus, itās time for me to follow up on my last post, made from Vietnam just as I was about to depart for China. That post (from April 21st) has a general update on my time in Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam, and may be good to read again before looking at the pictures I'm adding in this post. Since a lot has happened since my last post, I'll make several posts following this one, each a (probably poor) attempt to fill you all in on what has been a fascinating experience. I apologize in advance if the updates are superficial or watered downā-itās hard to summarize such a long, eventful period, and I welcome any additional questions if thereās something youād like me to describe further.<br /><br />This post will focus on Cambodia. As my previous post described, I arrived in Siem Reap, Cambodia, via train and ātaxiā from Bangkok. I spent three days in Siem Reap, which is blessed with the temples of Angkor just a few miles away. Each day was packedā-I made friends with a motorcycle taxi driver who helped me make the most of each day by taking me to many, many sites.<br /><br />A few photos from the Angkor temples:<br /><br />Angkor Wat at sunrise, my introduction to the temples at Angkor:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGmGFvpu4I/AAAAAAAAA1E/4thOpPjZp2M/s1600-h/01.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGmGFvpu4I/AAAAAAAAA1E/4thOpPjZp2M/s400/01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211128867395844994" /></a><br /><br />Inside Angkor Wat:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGqPcC7gLI/AAAAAAAAA1M/agmr8YNptM0/s1600-h/02.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGqPcC7gLI/AAAAAAAAA1M/agmr8YNptM0/s400/02.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211133426047615154" /></a><br /><br />A monkey lounging around Angkor Wat:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGqPqEb-_I/AAAAAAAAA1U/X985GGwVZrA/s1600-h/03.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGqPqEb-_I/AAAAAAAAA1U/X985GGwVZrA/s400/03.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211133429812034546" /></a><br /><br />The ancient soldiers guarding the entrance to Angkor Thom:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGvOo0WsaI/AAAAAAAAA1c/wbezrLwt85M/s1600-h/04.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGvOo0WsaI/AAAAAAAAA1c/wbezrLwt85M/s400/04.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211138909854413218" /></a><br /><br />A view of the pillars and ceiling inside the temples:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGxZ8wAPtI/AAAAAAAAA1k/a3NscrNk6tQ/s1600-h/05.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFGxZ8wAPtI/AAAAAAAAA1k/a3NscrNk6tQ/s400/05.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211141303206690514" /></a><br /><br />Iāve included this next photo for a couple reasons. First, this temple (Bayon, in Angkor Thom) is famous for the hundreds of enormous faces carved into it, making wandering around it a surreal--but definitely not lonely--experience. Second, you can see pieces of the temple laid out in front of it, on either side of the pathway. This is a common sight around many of the temples. Prior to the rise of the Khmer Rouge, many Cambodian and French archaeologists were busy preserving the temples, which frequently required them to partially dismantle them. The rise of the Khmer Rouge forced the foreign archaeologists to flee Cambodia, and resulted in the massacre of almost all Cambodian specialists on the temples. The effects of the reign of the Khmer Rouge are still very apparent: there are many amputees who are victims of the landmines that still cover the country today. In addition, according to statistics listed at the temples, 40% of Cambodiaās current population is under the age of 14.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG0F4tCG1I/AAAAAAAAA1s/OySqsMNu7a4/s1600-h/06.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG0F4tCG1I/AAAAAAAAA1s/OySqsMNu7a4/s400/06.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211144257057987410" /></a><br /><br />Stunningly well-preserved statues in Angkor Thom:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG1mBFZT4I/AAAAAAAAA10/lNQq1ITm1ts/s1600-h/07.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG1mBFZT4I/AAAAAAAAA10/lNQq1ITm1ts/s400/07.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211145908575096706" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG3_BWTfAI/AAAAAAAAA18/RjAWz7P7uG8/s1600-h/08.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFG3_BWTfAI/AAAAAAAAA18/RjAWz7P7uG8/s400/08.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211148537166003202" /></a><br /><br />Very steep climbs and their accompanying warning signs are a common sight:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLtbhzvbVI/AAAAAAAAA2E/uxwVNP63McI/s1600-h/09.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLtbhzvbVI/AAAAAAAAA2E/uxwVNP63McI/s400/09.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211488776008723794" /></a><br /><br />Arriving at a temple:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLvD2fMyhI/AAAAAAAAA2M/ymjH0h9p3QM/s1600-h/10.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLvD2fMyhI/AAAAAAAAA2M/ymjH0h9p3QM/s400/10.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211490568266107410" /></a><br /><br />The templesā struggle against nature:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLvERnKR5I/AAAAAAAAA2U/FTl_VfD6CNc/s1600-h/11.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLvERnKR5I/AAAAAAAAA2U/FTl_VfD6CNc/s400/11.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211490575547254674" /></a><br /><br />Riding in the area outside Siem Reap-āthe view from the back of my driver, Vebolās, motorcycle:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwuHQ4riI/AAAAAAAAA2c/DqjGVeoCrmM/s1600-h/12.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwuHQ4riI/AAAAAAAAA2c/DqjGVeoCrmM/s400/12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211492393835605538" /></a><br /><br />Angkor Wat at sunrise was my first view of the temples, and sunset at Angkor Wat was my last. Here, some young locals admire the view:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwuvqld6I/AAAAAAAAA2k/76efrU-5t_I/s1600-h/13.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwuvqld6I/AAAAAAAAA2k/76efrU-5t_I/s400/13.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211492404680816546" /></a><br /><br />On my last day I had a chance to visit a floating village outside Siem Reap, a community located in the middle of a large, shallow lake. Most of the residents here are immigrants, the majority from Vietnam. A home in the floating village:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwvA3hBmI/AAAAAAAAA2s/mgshA3Zr4KQ/s1600-h/14.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLwvA3hBmI/AAAAAAAAA2s/mgshA3Zr4KQ/s400/14.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211492409298454114" /></a><br /><br />A water taxi cruising near the floating village:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyDszVIZI/AAAAAAAAA20/-fMWhrx8E1k/s1600-h/15.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyDszVIZI/AAAAAAAAA20/-fMWhrx8E1k/s400/15.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211493864201068946" /></a><br /><br />Composed mainly of immigrants and refugees, it is not surprising that the floating village suffers from poverty. Here, some cheerful children float around the lake begging for money. The girl second from the right floats around in a small blue bucket, pushing herself around with a paddle:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyEAa30HI/AAAAAAAAA28/FInlFLpuFDw/s1600-h/16.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyEAa30HI/AAAAAAAAA28/FInlFLpuFDw/s400/16.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211493869467193458" /></a><br /><br />The lakeās water, although muddy, blends in with the sky:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyEZpeGLI/AAAAAAAAA3E/80yeDy7A4nM/s1600-h/17.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SFLyEZpeGLI/AAAAAAAAA3E/80yeDy7A4nM/s400/17.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211493876239308978" /></a><br /><br />As soon as I have some free time and a reliable internet connection I'll post some pictures from Laos and Vietnam, so please check back soon!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-85936522263356058032008-06-09T16:35:00.002-05:002008-06-09T16:43:11.285-05:00breaking the silenceI'm writing from Florence, Italy, where I'm finally able to access my blogspot page again. I apologize for the long silence on the blog--I spent about six weeks in China, where internet browsers are not allowed to access blogspot.com. I appreciate the concern many of you showed following the earthquake in Sichuan on May 12th, and I'm sorry that my abrupt silence on the blog caused some worry. Fortunately, I wasn't affected by the quake, and the many friends who accompanied me at various stages of my journey in China are also safe.<br /><br />I am going to be organizing my photos in the near future, and creating posts on my travels following my last update from Vietnam. Please check back soon!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-5957367642222638402008-04-21T08:31:00.010-05:002008-04-21T11:13:41.314-05:00Hanoi SyndromeHello from Hanoi! As you can tell from the title of this post, my plans changed a little: instead of heading to China through Laos, I decided to head to Vietnam from Laos, and to China from Vietnam.<br /><br />Although I cut my time in Laos short, it was due to my being drawn to Vietnam rather than being bored with Laos. Laos is a very special country, and my experience there was what many travelers dream of having at some point on their journey: a chance to get below the surface, to become close with locals, to experience the "real" side of things.<br /><br />Without a doubt, my time in Laos was made especially unique by the fact that my visit coincided with the Lunar New Year. In Laos (as well as Thailand and Cambodia), New Year celebrations revolve around beer and water, and last for three days (four this year, since the first day landed on a Sunday). In Laos, groups gather along the road, dancing and drinking beer, and tossing buckets of water at people passing by. Itās sweltering in the region, so I was happy to be soaked. Combine huge celebrations with a very warm and welcoming country, and I was in for a good time. On my first night in the southern town of Savanakhet, I went to a big New Year party at a club called āDinosaoā with a Lao friend I made on the bus. The party was complete with loud music, dancing, and the best beer in the region: BeerLao.<br /><br />The next day the streets were crowded with people celebrating, everyone soaked with water. I rented a bicycle to be able to see some of the city farther from my hotel, but I should have just walked--before long the locals had pulled me off my bike, handed me a glass of beer, and gave me a bucket. I spent the rest of the day sharing beers and throwing water at anyone driving, riding, walking, or running down the street. Anyone except the police, who seem to be feared throughout the country (Laos is strictly controlled by the authorities; the people are forbidden to voice political dissent, and have a curfew (which seems to be loosely enforced during the New Year)). The group I joined for the water-throwing invited me to a snack of chickens' feet, then we were off in the pickup, hauling huge tubs of water in the back that we launched at the crowds we passed. Afterward, as the sun went down, we went to a great restaurant and had huge bowls of noodle soup.<br /><br />The next day, as the celebrations wound down and the remaining garbage lined the abandoned streets, I arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. The city seemed exhausted following the festivities--some restaurants and shops were open, but for the most part the town seemed a little bit hungover. It was when I began contemplating returning to a coffee shop to sit and read that I realized I should move on, and a though that's been nagging at me since I arrived in Southeast Asia returned: I should go to Vietnam.<br /><br />I decided it was my obligation to go to Vietnam for a couple reasons: First, I worked with young Vietnamese immigrants and their families four years while in college. Second, as a US citizen and a student of history, I needed to see and experience firsthand the country that so significantly affected the US. So instead of returning to that coffee shop in Vientiane, I went to the Vietnamese Embassy. I got a visa in fifteen minutes, and had booked a flight within the hour. I left that evening for Hanoi.<br /><br />Hanoi is a rough, tough, resilient place, but I'm very glad I decided to visit. It's difficult to travel alone here, especially as a Westerner. Within my first 24 hours in Hanoi, I was left on the side of a highway when I refused to pay a taxi driver who tried to rip me off, my paid hotel room was given away to someone else, I got in an argument with a receptionist at another hotel who insisted that I give him my passport overnight (I soon found out this is national policy, but they also accept a copy), and, to top it off, my ATM card was confiscated by an ATM machine. The locals were rarely sympathetic--it took me two hours to figure out how to take buses from the highway to a hotel since few people cared I was lost, and even fewer spoke English. But by the end of those first 24 hours, I was still fascinated by Hanoi. I felt like I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome--even though I was beaten and bruised, I had no urge to leave. I wanted to experience more.<br /><br />There really is something fascinating about this place; going to museums and seeing photographs of sections of the city levelled by B-52s, passing by huge billboards of a smiling Ho Chi Minh holding a baby (or, much more jolting, seeing an embalmed Ho Chi Minh resting in his mausoleum). I never shy away when people ask me where I'm from. They usually respond with an ambiguous "Oh, America! Very good, very good! Nice country!" And I wonder what complex thoughts and emotions underly those kind words. Fortunately, after spending many hours wandering in and out of restaurants, cafes, shops, and various sites throughout the city, I've met a few Vietnamese people who not only have a firm grasp of English, but who are also willing to answer the many questions I have. They emphasize that while the Vietnamese have mixed feelings toward Americans and the United States, there are few hard feelings still held concerning the "American War." They emphasize that the country has moved on. And the city itself attests to that; Hanoi is a city that is changing, and fast. Nonetheless, I can't help but notice the intense stares I get from the city's older citizens, which I don't notice from anyone else.<br /><br />If there's one thing I could add to my trip thus far, it would be a visit to southern Vietnam. "The south is so much different from the north," a man from Ho Chi Minh City told me, "not only are we much better about serving visitors, but we also have a much stronger economy." Then, with a smile he said, "You know, we are also much more influenced by America than the north is." I was surprised to hear him say that, especially since I noticed a hint of pride in his voice. I remembered what a man who lives in Vietnam told me during my stay in Cambodia: "If the people in southern Vietnam have hard feelings toward America, it's not because the US was fighting there; it's because the US abandoned them."<br /><br />For me, being in Vietnam prompts mixed, complex emotions that are very difficult to sort out and reconcile. At points I'm extremely frustrated, feeling like no one in the city cares about my well being. Moments later I have a knot in my throat, having seen images of screaming children running from a bombed, burning building that once stood a few kilometers from where I'm standing. Then later in the day, after following a huge crowd of people to an ice cream shop, I can't wipe the smile off my face. Kids on bicycles say "hello" to me, people are smiling, I overhear a young guy next to me say "Hi" to a girl from Taiwan. "She's so pretty!" he says to me after she walks away.<br /><br />Today was a bittersweet day, as it was my last full day in Vietnam. Tomorrow morning I'll begin my journey to Guilin, China, by bus.<br /><br />I was planning on posting photos from Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos in this update, but the electricity went out before I could upload all my photos. As a result, I only have a few from Cambodia:<br /><br />The temples at Angkor:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrT8GJgwI/AAAAAAAAA0U/1ZxCtCZwSBY/s1600-h/DSC_0679.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrT8GJgwI/AAAAAAAAA0U/1ZxCtCZwSBY/s400/DSC_0679.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191712829489120002" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvxsGJgzI/AAAAAAAAA0s/bWHcr3WKsQI/s1600-h/DSC_0605.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvxsGJgzI/AAAAAAAAA0s/bWHcr3WKsQI/s400/DSC_0605.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191717738636739378" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvyMGJg0I/AAAAAAAAA00/WJDBrEvbDoc/s1600-h/DSC_0541.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvyMGJg0I/AAAAAAAAA00/WJDBrEvbDoc/s400/DSC_0541.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191717747226673986" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrUcGJgxI/AAAAAAAAA0c/oSp8sKyxbc0/s1600-h/DSC_0619.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrUcGJgxI/AAAAAAAAA0c/oSp8sKyxbc0/s400/DSC_0619.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191712838079054610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrU8GJgyI/AAAAAAAAA0k/Z6v-30IwQuA/s1600-h/DSC_0618.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyrU8GJgyI/AAAAAAAAA0k/Z6v-30IwQuA/s400/DSC_0618.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191712846668989218" /></a><br /><br />A woman who maintains a small worship site inside one of the Angkor temples: <br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvycGJg1I/AAAAAAAAA08/_AmjCD56rgE/s1600-h/DSC_0484.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyvycGJg1I/AAAAAAAAA08/_AmjCD56rgE/s400/DSC_0484.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191717751521641298" /></a><br /><br />The girl who I mentioned in my last post, who could speak several languages, all learned from tourists. She's holding the letter she wrote me in Spanish (sorry, I would transcribe it, but I don't have it with me right now):<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyitsGJgtI/AAAAAAAAAz8/tzuAtWSVylc/s1600-h/DSC_0702.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/SAyitsGJgtI/AAAAAAAAAz8/tzuAtWSVylc/s400/DSC_0702.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191703376266101458" /></a><br /><br />Check back soon for an update from China!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-16669676274851027132008-04-13T07:18:00.006-05:002008-04-13T08:22:17.398-05:00Cambodia and LaosUnfortunately, there are no pictures to post--just a quick update. After my last post in Bangkok, I boarded a third class train and made the 5-hour trip east to the border with Cambodia (Aranya Prathet on the Thai side, Poipet on the Cambodian side). Third class wasn't too bad--it was packed and hot, but there were fans. It was a bit more difficult for me since I didn't sleep very long the night before, and it was impossible to fall asleep on the train. But the trip was a success--after a few hours I got off the train and was greeted by a multitude of tuk tuk drivers eager to take me across the border.<br /><br />Crossing into Cambodia was very easy and uneventful. Cambodia now has a wonderful e-visa program that lets you apply for a visa online, receive a pdf reply in your inbox, and print it as an actual visa. The entire process took me about 30 minutes. Thank you, Cambodia! They should probably advertise this e-visa a bit more, though, since there was still a long line of frustrated people waiting to apply for a visa upon arrival.<br /><br />Poipet, on the Cambodia side, is described as the "armpit of Cambodia" in my Lonely Planet. They weren't far from the mark on this one. It seems like everyone I met there was either smuggling something across the border (I almost hitched a ride with a couple smuggling shoes), or looking for ways to charge tourists an enormous amount for a ride in their taxis. I finally found a reasonably-priced car, and five hours later arrived in Siem Reap.<br /><br />Siem Reap means "Siamese defeated," a ballsy move for a town close to the Thai border. The city is very warm and inviting, with an apparent French influence in its many cafes and restaurants. I had one of the best massages of my life there (yes, Khmer massage is better than Thai massage, in my opinion), and some great food. Siem Reap is the kind of laid back city that I could spend a lot of time in. But, unfortunately, I only had three days.<br /><br />In those three days I spent the majority of my time doing what every tourist does in Siem Reap--visit the temples at Angkor! And for good reason--these temples, tons of them distributed around the area, are spectacular. I hired an incredibly friendly driver, Vebol, who advised me on what to see and when. On my first day, I saw the sun rise over Angkor Wat at 5:30. I also visited Ta Prohm, the temple that is struggling to survive against the many trees growing throughout--and on top of--it. On my second day, I returned to Angkor Wat to see the sun set.<br /><br />Cambodia was very different from Thailand--not only is it significantly poorer, its people bear the very new, very deep scars of a gruesome civil war. Amputees frequently visit the town center to ask for money, since other avenues for earning an income are usually closed to amputees. Land mines still lie throughout rural areas, making solemn strolls unusually dangerous. There are multitudes of mothers and children that, instead of begging, sell inexpensive souvenirs and drinks in an attempt to make any money they can.<br /><br />The children selling these items were very kind, which was wonderful as a solo traveler--there was always someone to chat with. I found that in Cambodia, children wouldn't get upset at me if I refused to buy their goods. Eating breakfast at Angkor Wat, a couple young boys selling guide books and postcards sat and talked with me the entire meal, even knowing I wouldn't buy anything from them. In the end, I usually gave kids a "tip" for their kindness, and the effort they put into selling. I imagine it would be easy for them simply try to beg, but they insist on trying to earn money.<br /><br />And these children were oftentimes surprisingly smart and educated. At the last temple I visited, a less popular site where I was the only tourist, a young girl approached me with a huge smile and tried to sell me pants. I pointed to mine and told her I had some, and she said I needed Cambodian pants as well as the Thai pants I was wearing (yes, they were actually from Thailand). She asked where I was from, and before I had time to tell her, she was already listing the US state capitals. I thought I'd throw her a curve ball, so I said Colombia. She said "Bogota?" and started speaking in Spanish. She spoke Spanish extremely well, explaining to me that she learned from "turistas," that she also speaks Hungarian, Polish, and a little French, and that she's fourteen. She also tried to teach me some of her language, Khmer. She explained that although the word for father is "pa," she would say "po" because she's of a lower socioeconomic class.<br /><br />On the trip back to my hostel, I imagined what this girl would do with the opportunities most American children her age have. What would she aspire to be and to achieve? What would she be able to give back to her country? It is absolutely heartbreaking to think that the abilities of this extremely gifted girl will probably go unrecognized in Cambodia, and will never benefit the girl's family or her country.<br /><br />I ended up buying the pants from the girl. Afterward, I said farewell and tried to encourage her as much as I could in the few moments I had. I told her she is very gifted, and that she should continue studying hard. I also admitted to her that she's far smarter than most of the 14-year-olds I've met in the United States.<br /><br />Cambodia is the kind of place that leaves visitors humbled. In spite of the horrors in its recent past (horrors that are still very evident: 40% of Cambodia's population is under 14 years old, since many adults were exterminated under the Khmer Rouge), it is never rare to see Cambodians smile. I think our world has a lot to learn from them; I'm definitely looking forward to my next, longer visit.<br /><br />After too little time in Cambodia, I boarded a plane for Pakse, Laos. This morning, I took a bus to the southernmost point of Laos, near the border with Cambodia. This area is called 4000 Islands since it is where the Mekong River fans out, creating tons of small land masses. Today I enjoyed riding a bicycle around the island, and swimming in the Mekong at sunset. Today Laos (along with Thailand and Cambodia) celebrates the lunar new year with lots of singing, dancing, drinking, and soaking. That's right--I've already been shot point blank by two little kids with water guns, so I invested in one of my own.<br /><br />Over the next week or so, I'll be making my way north through Laos, eventually crossing into China. A friend studying in Beijing invited me to tour southern China with her, so I'm having to hurry my trip along in order to meet her.<br /><br />I hope you're all doing well. See you next time...Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-52326336800314953092008-04-08T13:31:00.010-05:002008-04-08T16:01:59.880-05:00Last night in ThailandWelcome back! Well, it's been a really great time here in Thailand since I arrived a couple weeks ago. Tonight is my last night here, so I figure it's a good time to post an update and a few pictures. A quick disclaimer: all these pictures are unedited, so please forgive any crookedness, etc. I have a habit of tilting my photos clockwise, so I hope your neck doesn't get sore looking at them.<br /><br />First, here are a few pictures I took in Bangkok after making my last post. This is the view from the "river taxi," a system of boats that cruise up and down the river:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBrHVq6fI/AAAAAAAAAwk/L2EeegKLUdo/s1600-h/DSC_0120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBrHVq6fI/AAAAAAAAAwk/L2EeegKLUdo/s400/DSC_0120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186952342295734770" /></a><br /><br />A local I met on Khao San Road, keeping the reputation alive:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBrnVq6gI/AAAAAAAAAws/sW7LrXptoFg/s1600-h/DSC_0131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBrnVq6gI/AAAAAAAAAws/sW7LrXptoFg/s400/DSC_0131.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186952350885669378" /></a><br /><br />While walking to my hostel, I stumbled upon a bunch of people flying kites. Everyone was so happy and friendly--it was the perfect place to be on my last evening in Bangkok: <br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBsHVq6hI/AAAAAAAAAw0/LbdJuG7NZbY/s1600-h/DSC_0151.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vBsHVq6hI/AAAAAAAAAw0/LbdJuG7NZbY/s400/DSC_0151.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186952359475603986" /></a><br /><br />Kites for sale:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDgHVq6iI/AAAAAAAAAw8/KYaJ7qQXZVA/s1600-h/DSC_0155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDgHVq6iI/AAAAAAAAAw8/KYaJ7qQXZVA/s400/DSC_0155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186954352340429346" /></a><br /><br />Having some trouble:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDhnVq6jI/AAAAAAAAAxE/4kC8n7dB2JA/s1600-h/DSC_0172.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDhnVq6jI/AAAAAAAAAxE/4kC8n7dB2JA/s400/DSC_0172.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186954378110233138" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDiHVq6kI/AAAAAAAAAxM/uG-Og9BS_R0/s1600-h/DSC_0181.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDiHVq6kI/AAAAAAAAAxM/uG-Og9BS_R0/s400/DSC_0181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186954386700167746" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDjnVq6lI/AAAAAAAAAxU/2mID6JQmX4U/s1600-h/DSC_0186.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vDjnVq6lI/AAAAAAAAAxU/2mID6JQmX4U/s400/DSC_0186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186954412469971538" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFRHVq6mI/AAAAAAAAAxc/NFZjNtQt2K4/s1600-h/DSC_0201.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFRHVq6mI/AAAAAAAAAxc/NFZjNtQt2K4/s400/DSC_0201.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186956293665647202" /></a><br /><br />After spending a little longer than I was originally planning in Bangkok (during which I wrote the last update, with photos), I caught a bus down to an island in southern Thailand. Thailand is blessed with tons of gorgeous islands, but not all of them are pleasant to visit. Islands such as Phuket and Ko Samui are renowned for how "disgusting" the tourist industry has made them ("Like Khao San road on an island: full of drugs, alcohol, and prostitutes," one traveler told me, and others echoed this opinion). So I started talking with locals and fellow travelers early on, asking for recommendations on which of Thailand's many, many islands I should visit, if I had to choose just one. The response was unanimous: Ko Phi Phi.<br /><br />After an uncomfortable overnight bus ride followed by a two-hour ferry ride, I arrived at Ko Phi Phi. I didn't have a reservation at a hostel, but I soon found a reasonably priced, reasonably clean place after going door-to-door. It's difficult to describe the beauty of Ko Phi Phi--of course, neither words nor pictures can do a place justice, but I've posted some pictures below to help me out. "Vibrant" is a word that I think describes Thailand well, and Ko Phi Phi was no exception. The water was many shades of blue, indigo, and green, and the beaches were almost blindingly white. But I think what attracted my attention most were the lush, green hills that jutted out of the sea. While swimming, I noticed that the waves were full of little fish that occasionally launched out of the water. Even when standing in shallow water I could hold the fish in my hands.<br /><br />The little boats (or taxis) that skim around the island add to its aesthetic appeal:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHNnVq6sI/AAAAAAAAAyM/O4iYQZ9G3FM/s1600-h/DSC_0284.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHNnVq6sI/AAAAAAAAAyM/O4iYQZ9G3FM/s400/DSC_0284.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186958432559360706" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHOHVq6tI/AAAAAAAAAyU/8AbKa9ya3AM/s1600-h/DSC_0302.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHOHVq6tI/AAAAAAAAAyU/8AbKa9ya3AM/s400/DSC_0302.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186958441149295314" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIaXVq6uI/AAAAAAAAAyc/uLfHTLcUc-k/s1600-h/DSC_0312.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIaXVq6uI/AAAAAAAAAyc/uLfHTLcUc-k/s400/DSC_0312.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186959751114320610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIbHVq6vI/AAAAAAAAAyk/s7MwQCHTP24/s1600-h/DSC_0322.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIbHVq6vI/AAAAAAAAAyk/s7MwQCHTP24/s400/DSC_0322.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186959763999222514" /></a><br /><br />On my second day, I rented a kayak and explored some of the less-populated beaches:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFRnVq6nI/AAAAAAAAAxk/Lh-vvd0RZ80/s1600-h/DSC_0242.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFRnVq6nI/AAAAAAAAAxk/Lh-vvd0RZ80/s400/DSC_0242.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186956302255581810" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFSHVq6oI/AAAAAAAAAxs/vZ2xzwUYa0E/s1600-h/DSC_0256.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFSHVq6oI/AAAAAAAAAxs/vZ2xzwUYa0E/s400/DSC_0256.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186956310845516418" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFSXVq6pI/AAAAAAAAAx0/jWlntlIoiq8/s1600-h/DSC_0260.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vFSXVq6pI/AAAAAAAAAx0/jWlntlIoiq8/s400/DSC_0260.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186956315140483730" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHMnVq6qI/AAAAAAAAAx8/bTfw7MwBR6o/s1600-h/DSC_0261.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHMnVq6qI/AAAAAAAAAx8/bTfw7MwBR6o/s400/DSC_0261.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186958415379491490" /></a><br /><br />Simply being on Ko Phi Phi and being surrounded by its beauty was a highlight of my trip. So I guess I could describe scuba diving there as a highlight within a highlight. The diving on Ko Phi Phi is said to be world-class, so I didn't hesitate long when deciding whether or not to do it. The coral was very colorful and vibrant (there's that word again), and the fish so populous that I found myself surrounded by huge schools of them. At one point I saw a couple adult leopard sharks, each about 12 feet long, resting on the sea bottom. As I was hovering a few feet above them, they began swimming in circles around me. Although I have to admit it made me a little nervous, it was really an incredible experience.<br /><br />Oh, and as a little bonus, I found out that the beach from the movie "The Beach," with Leonardo DiCaprio, actually is on Ko Phi Phi. So if you want to see footage of the island, go rent "The Beach" (I can't promise you'll enjoy the movie).<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHNHVq6rI/AAAAAAAAAyE/i4ECd-CNon0/s1600-h/DSC_0276.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vHNHVq6rI/AAAAAAAAAyE/i4ECd-CNon0/s400/DSC_0276.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186958423969426098" /></a><br /><br />A boat we passed on the ferry back to the mainland:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIbnVq6wI/AAAAAAAAAys/cKXTZLEMoDU/s1600-h/DSC_0380.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vIbnVq6wI/AAAAAAAAAys/cKXTZLEMoDU/s400/DSC_0380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186959772589157122" /></a><br /><br />After a few days on Ko Phi Phi, I decided I had to tear myself away. I headed, by bus, back to Bangkok, then by train north (far north) to Thailand's cultural capital, Chiang Mai. Chiang Mai, which is one-tenth the size of Bangkok, has the same number of temples as the capital city. It is also known to have the best food in Thailand (spicier than the south). After a few days sunbathing on Ko Phi Phi, I was due for a little cultural immersion.<br /><br />I arrived in Chiang Mai in the early morning, and, initially, I was underwhelmed. Having fallen in love with Bangkok, I felt like Chiang Mai was a smaller, more dreary, less lively place than the capital. But as the day progressed, I began to see another side of the city. At the end of the day, while writing in my journal, I realized that I had experienced more "highlights" during my first day in Chiang Mai than during any other single day in Thailand. I have a hard time describing what it was about the city that I found so special. The sights and smells, the general feeling of the place, the personalities of the locals I met (from the adorable family of three that served me sugar cane juice from the back of their truck, to the university student who interviewed me outside a temple as part of her English homework)--it all combined to create a city with a deep soul that captivated me.<br /><br />Visiting a temple in Chiang Mai:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLw3Vq6xI/AAAAAAAAAy0/6KCPLIr8q54/s1600-h/DSC_0003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLw3Vq6xI/AAAAAAAAAy0/6KCPLIr8q54/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186963436196260626" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLxHVq6yI/AAAAAAAAAy8/FveQDBuxTB4/s1600-h/DSC_0009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLxHVq6yI/AAAAAAAAAy8/FveQDBuxTB4/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186963440491227938" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLyHVq60I/AAAAAAAAAzM/XzmRZMmw_58/s1600-h/DSC_0032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLyHVq60I/AAAAAAAAAzM/XzmRZMmw_58/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186963457671097154" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNp3Vq61I/AAAAAAAAAzU/ghAaTMz2B20/s1600-h/DSC_0035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNp3Vq61I/AAAAAAAAAzU/ghAaTMz2B20/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186965514960431954" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNqXVq62I/AAAAAAAAAzc/HQOlq0r-new/s1600-h/DSC_0044.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNqXVq62I/AAAAAAAAAzc/HQOlq0r-new/s400/DSC_0044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186965523550366562" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNqnVq63I/AAAAAAAAAzk/1JE_uUS5fJE/s1600-h/DSC_0050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNqnVq63I/AAAAAAAAAzk/1JE_uUS5fJE/s400/DSC_0050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186965527845333874" /></a><br /><br />Words of wisdom hanging from the trees around the temple:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLxnVq6zI/AAAAAAAAAzE/jqRbhg2d-dQ/s1600-h/DSC_0022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vLxnVq6zI/AAAAAAAAAzE/jqRbhg2d-dQ/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186963449081162546" /></a><br /><br />In addition, Chiang Mai will forever hold a special place in my heart as the city where I learned to cook and give Thai massages. Yes, you read that correctly. While there, I enrolled in a cooking course, and another course in Thai massage. I finally graduated from Ramen noodles! And it's true--the food in Chiang Mai really is spectacular, even compared to the rest of Thailand, so I think I picked a good place to learn. I just need to find a wok...<br /><br />This is the meal I cooked. Hearing "I" and "cooked" in the same sentence sounds toxic, but these dishes were really, really, REALLY good (I promise!). Clockwise from the top-left corner is steamed rice, steamed fish in banana leaves, a sauce for the coconut curry chicken, chicken with cashews, and coconut curry chicken:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNrnVq65I/AAAAAAAAAz0/Jbkvk9uOtzA/s1600-h/DSC_0080.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNrnVq65I/AAAAAAAAAz0/Jbkvk9uOtzA/s400/DSC_0080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186965545025203090" /></a><br /><br />Chiang Mai at sunset:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNq3Vq64I/AAAAAAAAAzs/l26ajyvC3_w/s1600-h/DSC_0059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R_vNq3Vq64I/AAAAAAAAAzs/l26ajyvC3_w/s400/DSC_0059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186965532140301186" /></a><br /><br />I arrived back in Bangkok by train a few hours ago. It's currently 3am, and I have a train to catch at 5am. I'll take the train to Aranya Prathet, which is on the border with Cambodia. From there I'll walk across the border, then hire someone to drive me five hours to Siem Reap. If all goes smoothly, I should be in Siem Reap, Cambodia in about 14 hours (around 5pm my time). So why Siem Reap? I decided to spend a few days in Cambodia to see the Angkor temples, including Angkor Wat. In literature and through word of mouth, I've repeatedly heard how stunning the temples are, and I've been told it would be a terrible mistake for me not to visit them while I'm in the region. So I decided to shorten my time in Thailand by just a couple days, and to head east.<br /><br />After Cambodia, things are going to get tricky. My plan is to fly into southern Laos (flying really simplifies the visa issue since I can get one on the spot at the airport, instead of waiting several days elsewhere), and to travel north into China using land transportation. The tricky part is that in a couple days Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand will begin celebrating the lunar new year, and won't stop for a couple weeks. That means not only will everyone be carrying water balloons and a water pistol (they celebrate by attacking each other with water--it'll be nice since it's so hot here), but also that transportation will be running much, much slower than usual, if at all. Worst case scenario: I'm stuck in a tiny, desolate town in Laos for two weeks, waiting for the next pickup north. But honestly, even that's not such a bad scenario. I'm pretty grateful to be able to experience the lunar new year here. All the locals are talking about it, and the little kids are already walking around with (empty) water guns. I hear it's a pretty big deal.<br /><br />Farewell until next time.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-53069468255676255842008-03-29T04:25:00.014-05:002008-03-29T06:52:58.077-05:00photos from ThailandFinally, I've caught up to posting pictures from Thailand. I apologize if the order I've posted my pictures is confusing. If you want to view the photos chronologically, this is the order of my travels:<br /><br />Tanzania<br />Zanzibar<br />Zambia<br />Namibia<br />South Africa<br />Thailand<br /><br />Just follow the title of the blog post to find pictures from each country.<br /><br />And now for Thailand!<br /><br />Ahh, the food. Spectacular, and cheap--hands down the best I've had on this trip. From coconut chicken soup (tom kha gai) to curry fish, they have all your favorites, anywhere in the city. And it usually won't cost you more than $3:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NsHVq6BI/AAAAAAAAAs0/K5bx4Xa1TmM/s1600-h/DSC_0607.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NsHVq6BI/AAAAAAAAAs0/K5bx4Xa1TmM/s400/DSC_0607.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183095272685365266" /></a><br /><br />I took the next few photos in the Ko Ratanakosin area, which Lonely Planet accurately describes as "a veritable Vatican City of Thai Buddhism:"<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NsnVq6CI/AAAAAAAAAs8/hCx4Ee0Xbm8/s1600-h/DSC_0619.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NsnVq6CI/AAAAAAAAAs8/hCx4Ee0Xbm8/s400/DSC_0619.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183095281275299874" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Ns3Vq6DI/AAAAAAAAAtE/u1MTlxuBtLc/s1600-h/DSC_0625.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Ns3Vq6DI/AAAAAAAAAtE/u1MTlxuBtLc/s400/DSC_0625.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183095285570267186" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NtHVq6EI/AAAAAAAAAtM/UrnGTYymViY/s1600-h/DSC_0627.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NtHVq6EI/AAAAAAAAAtM/UrnGTYymViY/s400/DSC_0627.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183095289865234498" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NtnVq6FI/AAAAAAAAAtU/l8Dh5AapKhc/s1600-h/DSC_0629.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4NtnVq6FI/AAAAAAAAAtU/l8Dh5AapKhc/s400/DSC_0629.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183095298455169106" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QyXVq6GI/AAAAAAAAAtc/au4BwUyyKEI/s1600-h/DSC_0630.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QyXVq6GI/AAAAAAAAAtc/au4BwUyyKEI/s400/DSC_0630.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183098678594431074" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QzHVq6HI/AAAAAAAAAtk/zQ-RZd7NmMs/s1600-h/DSC_0644.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QzHVq6HI/AAAAAAAAAtk/zQ-RZd7NmMs/s400/DSC_0644.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183098691479332978" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QznVq6II/AAAAAAAAAts/lvsu4kkBVYY/s1600-h/DSC_0646.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4QznVq6II/AAAAAAAAAts/lvsu4kkBVYY/s400/DSC_0646.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183098700069267586" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UaXVq6LI/AAAAAAAAAuE/9z2ewshgDMY/s1600-h/DSC_0687.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UaXVq6LI/AAAAAAAAAuE/9z2ewshgDMY/s400/DSC_0687.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183102664324081842" /></a><br /><br />Thailand's largest reclining Buddha:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Q0nVq6KI/AAAAAAAAAt8/zXiC9YpKIok/s1600-h/DSC_0675.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Q0nVq6KI/AAAAAAAAAt8/zXiC9YpKIok/s400/DSC_0675.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183098717249136802" /></a><br /><br />The seafood market near Wat Pho (an area also famous for its massages):<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Q0HVq6JI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oHIaf3I0rsc/s1600-h/DSC_0672.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Q0HVq6JI/AAAAAAAAAt0/oHIaf3I0rsc/s400/DSC_0672.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183098708659202194" /></a><br /><br />Even on an average weekday, the famous (infamous?) Khao San Road is packed with people and activity:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4WUHVq6RI/AAAAAAAAAu0/51z8JEUlplU/s1600-h/DSC_0722.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4WUHVq6RI/AAAAAAAAAu0/51z8JEUlplU/s400/DSC_0722.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183104755973155090" /></a><br /><br />My friend, Manuella, and me sampling the selection of insects, from grasshoppers to worms and cockroaches:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4WTXVq6QI/AAAAAAAAAus/DcnODhYLOV4/s1600-h/DSC_0720.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4WTXVq6QI/AAAAAAAAAus/DcnODhYLOV4/s400/DSC_0720.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183104743088253186" /></a><br /><br />Here we are indulging in grasshoppers topped with a delicate hint of chili powder:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UcHVq6PI/AAAAAAAAAuk/U5zdfF-esMc/s1600-h/DSC_0719.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UcHVq6PI/AAAAAAAAAuk/U5zdfF-esMc/s400/DSC_0719.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183102694388852978" /></a><br /><br />Fight night! Last night was one of Thailand's biggest muay thai tournaments of the year, featuring ten rounds, each showcasing a champion fighter. Anthony, a friend from Hong Kong who happens to be a huge fan of Thai boxing, invited me to the event:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4etXVq6SI/AAAAAAAAAu8/dxOG9eKFka8/s1600-h/DSC_0001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4etXVq6SI/AAAAAAAAAu8/dxOG9eKFka8/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183113985857874210" /></a><br /><br />Just to give you some background information, muay thai fighters are usually about 20 to 25 years old, but can compete as young as 15. They are generally between 100 and 130 pounds, and must be at least 100 pounds to compete. Most fighters come from very poor families, and earn a meager $5 their first win. Training is their life; they generally do not go to school. From an early age they train fourteen hours a day, waking up at 5am, running 10 to 15 kilometers, then training until dinner time, with breaks for meals.<br /><br />The fighters preparing for the fight:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4gHXVq6TI/AAAAAAAAAvE/DTfQie_apZw/s1600-h/DSC_0003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4gHXVq6TI/AAAAAAAAAvE/DTfQie_apZw/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183115532046100786" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4gIHVq6UI/AAAAAAAAAvM/enMAdQU8m3k/s1600-h/DSC_0005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4gIHVq6UI/AAAAAAAAAvM/enMAdQU8m3k/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183115544931002690" /></a><br /><br />A young fan admiring the champion belt:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iNXVq6VI/AAAAAAAAAvU/n8-mm8d_cUU/s1600-h/DSC_0009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iNXVq6VI/AAAAAAAAAvU/n8-mm8d_cUU/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183117834148571474" /></a><br /><br />The ring:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4nx3Vq6dI/AAAAAAAAAwU/DtIMHaWYX74/s1600-h/DSC_0065.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4nx3Vq6dI/AAAAAAAAAwU/DtIMHaWYX74/s400/DSC_0065.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183123958771935698" /></a><br /><br />Fighters punch, kick, and are even allowed to use knees, elbows, and even occasionally head butt. The fights are intense when compared to boxing in the US--for example, even with blood rushing from a young fighter's forehead into his eyes, the referee refused to pause the fight (I was sitting in front of a Japanese woman who was horrified at the sight and started screaming). Fighters are often tripped and thrown to the ground. Some shots of the fights:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Ua3Vq6MI/AAAAAAAAAuM/WaoCWAD2sN4/s1600-h/DSC_0708.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Ua3Vq6MI/AAAAAAAAAuM/WaoCWAD2sN4/s400/DSC_0708.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183102672914016450" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UbXVq6NI/AAAAAAAAAuU/LIPkp4YC2cI/s1600-h/DSC_0715.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UbXVq6NI/AAAAAAAAAuU/LIPkp4YC2cI/s400/DSC_0715.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183102681503951058" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iN3Vq6WI/AAAAAAAAAvc/rKkh8W4iBKk/s1600-h/DSC_0015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iN3Vq6WI/AAAAAAAAAvc/rKkh8W4iBKk/s400/DSC_0015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183117842738506082" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kDXVq6YI/AAAAAAAAAvs/cIFEyb6VTzA/s1600-h/DSC_0022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kDXVq6YI/AAAAAAAAAvs/cIFEyb6VTzA/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183119861373135234" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kEnVq6ZI/AAAAAAAAAv0/dUctqGNV8PI/s1600-h/DSC_0023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kEnVq6ZI/AAAAAAAAAv0/dUctqGNV8PI/s400/DSC_0023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183119882847971730" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kFHVq6aI/AAAAAAAAAv8/aVTJfCJ-DTo/s1600-h/DSC_0024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4kFHVq6aI/AAAAAAAAAv8/aVTJfCJ-DTo/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183119891437906338" /></a><br /><br />In an area near the fighter's corner, there is a section reserved for family members and friends. Not surprisingly, they are among the loudest fans in the place, leading cheers that follow every connected kick or punch:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iOHVq6XI/AAAAAAAAAvk/F7mbQkeFP2M/s1600-h/DSC_0016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4iOHVq6XI/AAAAAAAAAvk/F7mbQkeFP2M/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183117847033473394" /></a><br /><br />Thailand's champion fighter receiving some advice:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4mmnVq6bI/AAAAAAAAAwE/lVR6lRf0QcI/s1600-h/DSC_0049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4mmnVq6bI/AAAAAAAAAwE/lVR6lRf0QcI/s400/DSC_0049.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183122665986779570" /></a><br /><br />Following the fights, fighters are very friendly and welcoming toward fans. They usually spend a good amount of time posing for pictures, which I took advantage of:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4mnXVq6cI/AAAAAAAAAwM/H3jbAL-BgVQ/s1600-h/DSC_0062.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4mnXVq6cI/AAAAAAAAAwM/H3jbAL-BgVQ/s400/DSC_0062.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183122678871681474" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UbnVq6OI/AAAAAAAAAuc/B693REi6MVk/s1600-h/DSC_0716.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4UbnVq6OI/AAAAAAAAAuc/B693REi6MVk/s400/DSC_0716.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183102685798918370" /></a><br /><br />The final highlight of the night was Anthony's and my waittress, Mimi:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4nyXVq6eI/AAAAAAAAAwc/RtaOYK0vUmg/s1600-h/DSC_0067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4nyXVq6eI/AAAAAAAAAwc/RtaOYK0vUmg/s400/DSC_0067.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183123967361870306" /></a><br /><br />Well, the sun has set since I've been in this internet cafe, and I'm starting to get hungry. I think it's time to head out into Bangkok to see what I can find...<br /><br />Until next time, I'm wishing you all the best!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-7574355858580201252008-03-29T02:18:00.018-05:002008-03-29T04:24:04.527-05:00photos from Tanzania, Zanzibar, Zambia, and NamibiaContinuing with my picture-posting marathon, I'm posting a few photos from Africa (Tanzania, Zanzibar, Zambia, and Namibia) below. They're posted chronologically, beginning with Tanzania. I took many pictures before Tanzania, of both Uganda and India, but I sent those memory cards back to the US. Unfortunately, I'll have to wait until later to post those pictures.<br /><br />For now, though, some shots from Tanzania:<br /><br />While cruising around the Serengeti, Dina and I found a few cheetahs stalking their prey (unfortunately, they weren't successful):<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wTnVq5LI/AAAAAAAAAmE/ndxZs13GW58/s1600-h/DSC_0022.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wTnVq5LI/AAAAAAAAAmE/ndxZs13GW58/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183062965941363890" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wUXVq5MI/AAAAAAAAAmM/_8SqZ2F8flY/s1600-h/DSC_0030.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wUXVq5MI/AAAAAAAAAmM/_8SqZ2F8flY/s400/DSC_0030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183062978826265794" /></a><br /><br />Other shots from the Serengeti:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wVHVq5NI/AAAAAAAAAmU/w7tvpA-hRGU/s1600-h/DSC_0038.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wVHVq5NI/AAAAAAAAAmU/w7tvpA-hRGU/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183062991711167698" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wVXVq5OI/AAAAAAAAAmc/KfKhHofYb0I/s1600-h/DSC_0081.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wVXVq5OI/AAAAAAAAAmc/KfKhHofYb0I/s400/DSC_0081.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183062996006135010" /></a><br /><br />We were there during the wildebeest migration, which is impossible to capture in a photo:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wV3Vq5PI/AAAAAAAAAmk/tfKM05d4qqY/s1600-h/DSC_0086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3wV3Vq5PI/AAAAAAAAAmk/tfKM05d4qqY/s400/DSC_0086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183063004596069618" /></a><br /><br />The Maasai strolling along the plains:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3ywXVq5QI/AAAAAAAAAms/l1WNvmkn7wY/s1600-h/DSC_0089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3ywXVq5QI/AAAAAAAAAms/l1WNvmkn7wY/s400/DSC_0089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183065658885858562" /></a><br /><br />The next couple photos were taken in Ngorongoro Crater, near the Serengeti. Dina described the crater, which was incredibly lush and full of wildlife, as being like Eden:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yw3Vq5RI/AAAAAAAAAm0/AslzCm0nlsk/s1600-h/DSC_0136.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yw3Vq5RI/AAAAAAAAAm0/AslzCm0nlsk/s400/DSC_0136.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183065667475793170" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yxXVq5SI/AAAAAAAAAm8/Bi90k2TAG5k/s1600-h/DSC_0160.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yxXVq5SI/AAAAAAAAAm8/Bi90k2TAG5k/s400/DSC_0160.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183065676065727778" /></a><br /><br />When we made a bathroom break in the crater, this family of monkeys was guarding the building:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-301nVq5VI/AAAAAAAAAnU/wlEyvgshzVA/s1600-h/DSC_0242.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-301nVq5VI/AAAAAAAAAnU/wlEyvgshzVA/s400/DSC_0242.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183067948103427410" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yx3Vq5TI/AAAAAAAAAnE/NYc7asYJodU/s1600-h/DSC_0220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yx3Vq5TI/AAAAAAAAAnE/NYc7asYJodU/s400/DSC_0220.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183065684655662386" /></a><br /><br />This woman was afraid to leave the bathroom:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yyHVq5UI/AAAAAAAAAnM/LzAou4i34BY/s1600-h/DSC_0235.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3yyHVq5UI/AAAAAAAAAnM/LzAou4i34BY/s400/DSC_0235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183065688950629698" /></a><br /><br />Our campsite in Ngorongoro (this is where Dina and I almost ran into a water buffalo, literally):<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-302HVq5WI/AAAAAAAAAnc/WfeTlADOIfQ/s1600-h/DSC_0260.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-302HVq5WI/AAAAAAAAAnc/WfeTlADOIfQ/s400/DSC_0260.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183067956693362018" /></a><br /><br />After visiting the game parks in northern Tanzania, Dina and I traveled to the beautiful "Spice Island," Zanzibar.<br /><br />The locals enjoying the perfect water:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34hnVq5XI/AAAAAAAAAnk/-8FHd4wZxWs/s1600-h/DSC_0287.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34hnVq5XI/AAAAAAAAAnk/-8FHd4wZxWs/s400/DSC_0287.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183072002552554866" /></a><br /><br />The famous doors of Zanzibar:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34iHVq5YI/AAAAAAAAAns/pecw-FtLNoI/s1600-h/DSC_0336.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34iHVq5YI/AAAAAAAAAns/pecw-FtLNoI/s400/DSC_0336.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183072011142489474" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34iXVq5ZI/AAAAAAAAAn0/eiFW7SGFalw/s1600-h/DSC_0337.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34iXVq5ZI/AAAAAAAAAn0/eiFW7SGFalw/s400/DSC_0337.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183072015437456786" /></a><br /><br />More lounging around on the beach:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-374HVq5hI/AAAAAAAAAo0/iJKh6oIMDSE/s1600-h/DSC_0356.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-374HVq5hI/AAAAAAAAAo0/iJKh6oIMDSE/s400/DSC_0356.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075687634494994" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34jHVq5bI/AAAAAAAAAoE/M40WHchsdXI/s1600-h/DSC_0359.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-34jHVq5bI/AAAAAAAAAoE/M40WHchsdXI/s400/DSC_0359.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183072028322358706" /></a><br /><br />After traveling back to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, I boarded the Tazara Express train and headed to Zambia. These are a couple friends I made on the two day ride, Moudy and his daughter, Cherry:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37VHVq5cI/AAAAAAAAAoM/_NH2cItobuI/s1600-h/DSC_0371.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37VHVq5cI/AAAAAAAAAoM/_NH2cItobuI/s400/DSC_0371.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075086339073474" /></a><br /><br />The first class lounge, where I spent most of the trip:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37VXVq5dI/AAAAAAAAAoU/6xxu0_P1t-4/s1600-h/DSC_0374.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37VXVq5dI/AAAAAAAAAoU/6xxu0_P1t-4/s400/DSC_0374.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075090634040786" /></a><br /><br />View from the train:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37V3Vq5eI/AAAAAAAAAoc/PhNoJ_llIlI/s1600-h/DSC_0393.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37V3Vq5eI/AAAAAAAAAoc/PhNoJ_llIlI/s400/DSC_0393.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075099223975394" /></a><br /><br />At every town we passed, locals would run outside their homes to wave and greet us:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37WHVq5fI/AAAAAAAAAok/8yPdVqbo7Ds/s1600-h/DSC_0398.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37WHVq5fI/AAAAAAAAAok/8yPdVqbo7Ds/s400/DSC_0398.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075103518942706" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37WnVq5gI/AAAAAAAAAos/lTph0qBDZQQ/s1600-h/DSC_0404.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-37WnVq5gI/AAAAAAAAAos/lTph0qBDZQQ/s400/DSC_0404.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183075112108877314" /></a><br /><br />I eventually crossed the border into Zambia, and, after a day of taxis and bus rides, I finally arrived at Victoria Falls:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-DXVq5iI/AAAAAAAAAo8/zJdNI-06KfQ/s1600-h/DSC_0410.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-DXVq5iI/AAAAAAAAAo8/zJdNI-06KfQ/s400/DSC_0410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183078079931278882" /></a><br /><br />There are few guardrails in the park, so you can get very, very close to the falls:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-DnVq5jI/AAAAAAAAApE/x3MKk5a5uhY/s1600-h/DSC_0428.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-DnVq5jI/AAAAAAAAApE/x3MKk5a5uhY/s400/DSC_0428.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183078084226246194" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-EHVq5kI/AAAAAAAAApM/1Eg0uYAsTR4/s1600-h/DSC_0430.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-EHVq5kI/AAAAAAAAApM/1Eg0uYAsTR4/s400/DSC_0430.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183078092816180802" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-EnVq5lI/AAAAAAAAApU/R_kgi8_0SBY/s1600-h/DSC_0441.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-EnVq5lI/AAAAAAAAApU/R_kgi8_0SBY/s400/DSC_0441.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183078101406115410" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-E3Vq5mI/AAAAAAAAApc/jmYpBmn-3Ik/s1600-h/DSC_0472.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3-E3Vq5mI/AAAAAAAAApc/jmYpBmn-3Ik/s400/DSC_0472.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183078105701082722" /></a><br /><br />I had lunch with a couple friends, Emily and James, at a hotel that kept zebras on their property:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_f3Vq5nI/AAAAAAAAApk/76b-xO4PH6o/s1600-h/DSC_0483.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_f3Vq5nI/AAAAAAAAApk/76b-xO4PH6o/s400/DSC_0483.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183079669069178482" /></a><br /><br />The view of the Falls from the bridge:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_gXVq5oI/AAAAAAAAAps/NEU9FyGVZVk/s1600-h/DSC_0497.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_gXVq5oI/AAAAAAAAAps/NEU9FyGVZVk/s400/DSC_0497.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183079677659113090" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_g3Vq5pI/AAAAAAAAAp0/4KLjEy-SSAE/s1600-h/DSC_0498.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-3_g3Vq5pI/AAAAAAAAAp0/4KLjEy-SSAE/s400/DSC_0498.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183079686249047698" /></a><br /><br />From Livingstone (the town near Victoria Falls), I took a bus to Namibia. These next photos are from the first half of my time there (I posted pictures from the second half yesterday):<br /><br />A drinking spot in the Kalahari Desert:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BnXVq5qI/AAAAAAAAAp8/7Cl0j4KPA70/s1600-h/DSC_0511.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BnXVq5qI/AAAAAAAAAp8/7Cl0j4KPA70/s400/DSC_0511.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183081996941452962" /></a><br /><br />The Kalahari grasshopper:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BoHVq5rI/AAAAAAAAAqE/OqpNCPylScY/s1600-h/DSC_0524.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BoHVq5rI/AAAAAAAAAqE/OqpNCPylScY/s400/DSC_0524.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183082009826354866" /></a><br /><br />My group and I visited a reserve that takes care of orphaned animals, including cheetahs. I was shocked when I was invited to walk inside the cheetah's area during feeding time, but it was an amazing experience:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BoXVq5sI/AAAAAAAAAqM/6lvN2tgN3jM/s1600-h/DSC_0533.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BoXVq5sI/AAAAAAAAAqM/6lvN2tgN3jM/s400/DSC_0533.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183082014121322178" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BpHVq5tI/AAAAAAAAAqU/3aW23ZdEdkY/s1600-h/DSC_0550.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BpHVq5tI/AAAAAAAAAqU/3aW23ZdEdkY/s400/DSC_0550.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183082027006224082" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DvHVq5wI/AAAAAAAAAqs/6vFNtj78OLk/s1600-h/DSC_0575.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DvHVq5wI/AAAAAAAAAqs/6vFNtj78OLk/s400/DSC_0575.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183084329108694786" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DvnVq5xI/AAAAAAAAAq0/awFRPSQ97x0/s1600-h/DSC_0582.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DvnVq5xI/AAAAAAAAAq0/awFRPSQ97x0/s400/DSC_0582.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183084337698629394" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DwHVq5yI/AAAAAAAAAq8/q3gsYGfqqsk/s1600-h/DSC_0584.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DwHVq5yI/AAAAAAAAAq8/q3gsYGfqqsk/s400/DSC_0584.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183084346288564002" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DwnVq5zI/AAAAAAAAArE/wiInnR6FdK8/s1600-h/DSC_0585.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DwnVq5zI/AAAAAAAAArE/wiInnR6FdK8/s400/DSC_0585.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183084354878498610" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F4nVq50I/AAAAAAAAArM/miXnsulZpGI/s1600-h/DSC_0589.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F4nVq50I/AAAAAAAAArM/miXnsulZpGI/s400/DSC_0589.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183086691340707650" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F5HVq51I/AAAAAAAAArU/rN20o-qTreE/s1600-h/DSC_0590.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F5HVq51I/AAAAAAAAArU/rN20o-qTreE/s400/DSC_0590.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183086699930642258" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F5nVq52I/AAAAAAAAArc/8k-NoQNS7x8/s1600-h/DSC_0610.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F5nVq52I/AAAAAAAAArc/8k-NoQNS7x8/s400/DSC_0610.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183086708520576866" /></a><br /><br />They also take care of warthogs and three-legged pugs:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BpXVq5uI/AAAAAAAAAqc/foL2utLdpA8/s1600-h/DSC_0567.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4BpXVq5uI/AAAAAAAAAqc/foL2utLdpA8/s400/DSC_0567.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183082031301191394" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DunVq5vI/AAAAAAAAAqk/cHtWsj7zpRY/s1600-h/DSC_0568.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4DunVq5vI/AAAAAAAAAqk/cHtWsj7zpRY/s400/DSC_0568.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183084320518760178" /></a><br /><br />Sunset at the quiver tree forest:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F53Vq53I/AAAAAAAAArk/7evvb51fw4A/s1600-h/DSC_0629.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F53Vq53I/AAAAAAAAArk/7evvb51fw4A/s400/DSC_0629.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183086712815544178" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F6XVq54I/AAAAAAAAArs/o2WeIMTT5KY/s1600-h/DSC_0698.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4F6XVq54I/AAAAAAAAArs/o2WeIMTT5KY/s400/DSC_0698.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183086721405478786" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IMnVq55I/AAAAAAAAAr0/PNjIhH1vA3U/s1600-h/DSC_0700.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IMnVq55I/AAAAAAAAAr0/PNjIhH1vA3U/s400/DSC_0700.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183089233961346962" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IOnVq59I/AAAAAAAAAsU/xxs2C3_zlj4/s1600-h/DSC_0735.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IOnVq59I/AAAAAAAAAsU/xxs2C3_zlj4/s400/DSC_0735.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183089268321085394" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Jo3Vq5-I/AAAAAAAAAsc/oY3JryXKvgY/s1600-h/DSC_0753.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Jo3Vq5-I/AAAAAAAAAsc/oY3JryXKvgY/s400/DSC_0753.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183090818804279266" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Jp3Vq5_I/AAAAAAAAAsk/b34_HGw0bqk/s1600-h/DSC_0758.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4Jp3Vq5_I/AAAAAAAAAsk/b34_HGw0bqk/s400/DSC_0758.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183090835984148466" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4JqXVq6AI/AAAAAAAAAss/S1VahfTAqbQ/s1600-h/DSC_0760.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4JqXVq6AI/AAAAAAAAAss/S1VahfTAqbQ/s400/DSC_0760.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183090844574083074" /></a><br /><br />The trees are called quiver trees because the indigenous people used the bark to store their arrows:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4INXVq56I/AAAAAAAAAr8/FOXlDzVx-jk/s1600-h/DSC_0702.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4INXVq56I/AAAAAAAAAr8/FOXlDzVx-jk/s400/DSC_0702.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183089246846248866" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IN3Vq57I/AAAAAAAAAsE/E5_iflIyTFw/s1600-h/DSC_0714.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IN3Vq57I/AAAAAAAAAsE/E5_iflIyTFw/s400/DSC_0714.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183089255436183474" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IOXVq58I/AAAAAAAAAsM/l2Fkt7RvyRw/s1600-h/DSC_0721.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-4IOXVq58I/AAAAAAAAAsM/l2Fkt7RvyRw/s400/DSC_0721.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183089264026118082" /></a>Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-42989190443027569672008-03-28T14:36:00.010-05:002008-03-28T16:46:30.597-05:00Photos from South AfricaI took the next few pictures after a 2-hour hike to the top of Table Mountain, which overlooks Cape Town:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MMHVq4pI/AAAAAAAAAh0/zT8oC0sqg28/s1600-h/DSC_0299.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MMHVq4pI/AAAAAAAAAh0/zT8oC0sqg28/s400/DSC_0299.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182882517185389202" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MMnVq4qI/AAAAAAAAAh8/isVSdHlICBs/s1600-h/DSC_0303.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MMnVq4qI/AAAAAAAAAh8/isVSdHlICBs/s400/DSC_0303.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182882525775323810" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MM3Vq4rI/AAAAAAAAAiE/pwRfbLgkEak/s1600-h/DSC_0322.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MM3Vq4rI/AAAAAAAAAiE/pwRfbLgkEak/s400/DSC_0322.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182882530070291122" /></a><br /><br />The "tablecloth" rolls over Table Mountain:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MNXVq4sI/AAAAAAAAAiM/ivrwgrmdFdw/s1600-h/DSC_0327.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MNXVq4sI/AAAAAAAAAiM/ivrwgrmdFdw/s400/DSC_0327.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182882538660225730" /></a><br /><br />Lounging around with the penguins in Simon's Town, in the south of Cape Town:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MNnVq4tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/I9NydN4AAJc/s1600-h/DSC_0343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1MNnVq4tI/AAAAAAAAAiU/I9NydN4AAJc/s400/DSC_0343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182882542955193042" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O9XVq4uI/AAAAAAAAAic/81sEM3Uoyjc/s1600-h/DSC_0347.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O9XVq4uI/AAAAAAAAAic/81sEM3Uoyjc/s400/DSC_0347.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182885562317202146" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O93Vq4vI/AAAAAAAAAik/2VmxVGDCHYo/s1600-h/DSC_0352.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O93Vq4vI/AAAAAAAAAik/2VmxVGDCHYo/s400/DSC_0352.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182885570907136754" /></a><br /><br />The next few photos are from a township (the equivalent of a shantytown) in Cape Town. I wish I could enlarge this first one; the woman is splitting a goat head with an axe, preparing a popular food in the area:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O-nVq4wI/AAAAAAAAAis/yiXJCU69MJE/s1600-h/DSC_0370.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O-nVq4wI/AAAAAAAAAis/yiXJCU69MJE/s400/DSC_0370.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182885583792038658" /></a><br /><br />Getting ready to sip some homemade beer in the township:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O_HVq4xI/AAAAAAAAAi0/pZ7qzvaJLzM/s1600-h/DSC_0379.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O_HVq4xI/AAAAAAAAAi0/pZ7qzvaJLzM/s400/DSC_0379.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182885592381973266" /></a><br /><br />I'm not sure what the hand signals mean, but I'm pretty sure they're not offensive:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O_XVq4yI/AAAAAAAAAi8/DSBAlzxv1Ew/s1600-h/DSC_0391.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1O_XVq4yI/AAAAAAAAAi8/DSBAlzxv1Ew/s400/DSC_0391.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182885596676940578" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RhHVq4zI/AAAAAAAAAjE/mguYFap0UJ8/s1600-h/DSC_0396.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RhHVq4zI/AAAAAAAAAjE/mguYFap0UJ8/s400/DSC_0396.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182888375520781106" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RhnVq40I/AAAAAAAAAjM/wjXiBiLNSuY/s1600-h/DSC_0399.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RhnVq40I/AAAAAAAAAjM/wjXiBiLNSuY/s400/DSC_0399.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182888384110715714" /></a><br /><br />A few friends I made in Cape Town; the three on the left traveled with me for the first few days of my road trip:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Rh3Vq41I/AAAAAAAAAjU/UNvTNLqIZes/s1600-h/DSC_0406.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Rh3Vq41I/AAAAAAAAAjU/UNvTNLqIZes/s400/DSC_0406.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182888388405683026" /></a><br /><br />Planning my travel route at the hostel in Cape Town:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RiHVq42I/AAAAAAAAAjc/G6_AkF_wmao/s1600-h/DSC_0410.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RiHVq42I/AAAAAAAAAjc/G6_AkF_wmao/s400/DSC_0410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182888392700650338" /></a><br /><br />The view from Hogsback, a village of 1500 people in the hills of south-central South Africa:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RinVq43I/AAAAAAAAAjk/hC7S3ieRBdU/s1600-h/DSC_0422.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1RinVq43I/AAAAAAAAAjk/hC7S3ieRBdU/s400/DSC_0422.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182888401290584946" /></a><br /><br />A few shots taken while hiking around Hogsback:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UMXVq44I/AAAAAAAAAjs/tUvadcdmxO8/s1600-h/DSC_0439.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UMXVq44I/AAAAAAAAAjs/tUvadcdmxO8/s400/DSC_0439.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182891317573378946" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UM3Vq45I/AAAAAAAAAj0/TXSnzsiMCus/s1600-h/DSC_0453.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UM3Vq45I/AAAAAAAAAj0/TXSnzsiMCus/s400/DSC_0453.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182891326163313554" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UNXVq46I/AAAAAAAAAj8/yC1Yy7SAVB0/s1600-h/DSC_0459.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UNXVq46I/AAAAAAAAAj8/yC1Yy7SAVB0/s400/DSC_0459.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182891334753248162" /></a><br /><br />Arriving on the Wild Coast--this is the beach in Chintsa:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UNnVq47I/AAAAAAAAAkE/HarMmXW7qHg/s1600-h/DSC_0480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UNnVq47I/AAAAAAAAAkE/HarMmXW7qHg/s400/DSC_0480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182891339048215474" /></a><br /><br />A friend I made in Chintsa volunteered at a local game reserve, helping to raise lion cubs. She invited me to play with the cubs one afternoon, making for one of the highlights of my trip:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UOHVq48I/AAAAAAAAAkM/BFEfOB6uiAo/s1600-h/DSC_0488.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1UOHVq48I/AAAAAAAAAkM/BFEfOB6uiAo/s400/DSC_0488.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182891347638150082" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Xg3Vq49I/AAAAAAAAAkU/MbLry9fVhv4/s1600-h/DSC_0495.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Xg3Vq49I/AAAAAAAAAkU/MbLry9fVhv4/s400/DSC_0495.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182894968295580626" /></a><br /><br />These little ecosystems exist in holes eroded into boulders lying on the beach in Chintsa--they were the home of crabs, snails, and even fish:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XhXVq4-I/AAAAAAAAAkc/j7OLjQHYr8o/s1600-h/DSC_0533.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XhXVq4-I/AAAAAAAAAkc/j7OLjQHYr8o/s400/DSC_0533.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182894976885515234" /></a><br /><br />In Coffee Bay, a quiet beach town along the Wild Coast, I took a hike with a group to a place called "A Hole in the Wall." These are some photos from the hike:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Xh3Vq4_I/AAAAAAAAAkk/vCXg6bLZv7c/s1600-h/DSC_0549.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Xh3Vq4_I/AAAAAAAAAkk/vCXg6bLZv7c/s400/DSC_0549.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182894985475449842" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XiHVq5AI/AAAAAAAAAks/I4N7is9NAMQ/s1600-h/DSC_0555.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XiHVq5AI/AAAAAAAAAks/I4N7is9NAMQ/s400/DSC_0555.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182894989770417154" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XinVq5BI/AAAAAAAAAk0/m66CSdpXbTw/s1600-h/DSC_0565.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1XinVq5BI/AAAAAAAAAk0/m66CSdpXbTw/s400/DSC_0565.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182894998360351762" /></a><br /><br />The locals splashing around near A Hole in the Wall:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZtXVq5CI/AAAAAAAAAk8/XCOpJ2ln_NQ/s1600-h/DSC_0566.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZtXVq5CI/AAAAAAAAAk8/XCOpJ2ln_NQ/s400/DSC_0566.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182897382067201058" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Zt3Vq5DI/AAAAAAAAAlE/weaB2D1u_3E/s1600-h/DSC_0570.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Zt3Vq5DI/AAAAAAAAAlE/weaB2D1u_3E/s400/DSC_0570.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182897390657135666" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Zv3Vq5GI/AAAAAAAAAlc/tzi8DbPKuTY/s1600-h/DSC_0575.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1Zv3Vq5GI/AAAAAAAAAlc/tzi8DbPKuTY/s400/DSC_0575.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182897425016874082" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZvXVq5FI/AAAAAAAAAlU/yI3U-ZfMOdg/s1600-h/DSC_0583.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZvXVq5FI/AAAAAAAAAlU/yI3U-ZfMOdg/s400/DSC_0583.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182897416426939474" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZunVq5EI/AAAAAAAAAlM/HUYq8gUrqdE/s1600-h/DSC_0584.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1ZunVq5EI/AAAAAAAAAlM/HUYq8gUrqdE/s400/DSC_0584.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182897403542037570" /></a><br /><br />There's a reason it's called the Wild Coast--there are more cows sunbathing than people:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b5nVq5HI/AAAAAAAAAlk/PAHl86g-r0Q/s1600-h/DSC_0590.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b5nVq5HI/AAAAAAAAAlk/PAHl86g-r0Q/s400/DSC_0590.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182899791543854194" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b6HVq5II/AAAAAAAAAls/EXD7e4psowg/s1600-h/DSC_0596.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b6HVq5II/AAAAAAAAAls/EXD7e4psowg/s400/DSC_0596.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182899800133788802" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b63Vq5JI/AAAAAAAAAl0/0ZkZnDMPkIw/s1600-h/DSC_0600.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b63Vq5JI/AAAAAAAAAl0/0ZkZnDMPkIw/s400/DSC_0600.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182899813018690706" /></a><br /><br />And here it is...the 1.4 liter asphalt igniter that successfully got me across South Africa:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b7HVq5KI/AAAAAAAAAl8/jUSYs9RuRIs/s1600-h/DSC_0603.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-1b7HVq5KI/AAAAAAAAAl8/jUSYs9RuRIs/s400/DSC_0603.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182899817313658018" /></a><br /><br />More photos from Tanzania, Zambia, and Thailand will be coming soon...Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-80813355974677746422008-03-28T02:04:00.011-05:002008-03-28T04:02:10.626-05:00Bangkok and...photos!Hello from Khao San Road in Bangkok, the backpackers' mecca represented in "The Beach" (that movie with Leonardo). Shops, hostels, and street vendors line the street, which, even on the average weekday is packed with both travelers and locals. Bangkok is a very captivating place that finds an interesting balance between a booming tourist industry (I recently read that 11.5 million tourists visited Thailand last year), and a rich culture. This is a place where you can be surrounded by tourists from all over the world on one street, and on the next be lost among closely-packed traditional homes lining a small, slowly-flowing river, with not a foreigner in sight. You can choose to eat in Burger King and sip Starbucks coffee, or to indulge in traditional phad thai and Thai coffee (or, if youāre not hungry enough for a full meal, you can always munch on roasted grasshoppers, worms, and cockroaches that street vendors sell). Bangkok is overflowing with life and activity--there is constantly something going on, a new place or event to be discovered. And, with many bars and restaurants open 24 hours, this city truly never sleeps.<br /><br />Being one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world, I was expecting Bangkok to be heavily westernized, having lost much of its traditional nature to the demands and influences of an overwhelming tourist industry. While the negative consequences of the tourist industry here are glaringly clear and oftentimes hard to escape, the Bangkok Iāve found has been, for me, an incredibly positive and beautiful surprise. From the outstanding food that costs $2 a meal (to Al and the Callahans, every time I eat phad thai or tom kha gai soup I think about you guysāitās indescribably good), to the intense muay thai boxing tournaments, the passion and intensity of Thai culture is apparent. My first evening here I took a āwater taxiā along the river that flows through Bangkok, and as the boat splashed along I was in awe of the things we passed: the Buddhist temples on the riverās banks that literally sparkled, the multitudes of markets selling unknown delicacies and trinkets that would take days to navigate and become familiar with, and the brightly illuminated streets pulsing with life and activity. I felt almost lightheaded as I imagined all the things to be discovered and experienced in Bangkok, and how much time I could spend here exploring the city. Bangkok is raw, rough, and intense, but also beautiful and immensely captivating. Itās almost like a drug that can easily engulf you if youāre not careful.<br /><br />Even after only a couple days, I have lots to say about Thailand. But instead of writing more, I'm going to take advantage of the fast connection I have to post a few pictures from Namibia. I plan to post more pictures from Tanzania, Zambia, South Africa, and Thailand soon, but I have a muay thai boxing tournament I need to head to, so the other pictures will have to wait.<br /><br />And now, a few unedited photos from Namibia:<br /><br />They call this place āGiantās Playground,ā and for good reason. Not only are the rocks stacked like toy blocks, but the trees are like miniature trees.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycHnVq4DI/AAAAAAAAAdE/BvhRTjTK3pM/s1600-h/DSC_0032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycHnVq4DI/AAAAAAAAAdE/BvhRTjTK3pM/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182688925829488690" /></a><br /><br />Fish Canyon, the second largest canyon in the world. I bet you know which is firstā¦<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycIXVq4EI/AAAAAAAAAdM/3qsSN98WD6E/s1600-h/DSC_0051.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycIXVq4EI/AAAAAAAAAdM/3qsSN98WD6E/s400/DSC_0051.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182688938714390594" /></a><br /><br />These next few pictures are from Kolmannskuppe, an old diamond mining town that was abandoned about 60 years ago.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycI3Vq4FI/AAAAAAAAAdU/TIBuXVxtig0/s1600-h/DSC_0059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ycI3Vq4FI/AAAAAAAAAdU/TIBuXVxtig0/s400/DSC_0059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182688947304325202" /></a><br /><br />They actually let me bowl here<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yd_HVq4GI/AAAAAAAAAdc/5in5F9T5Sn4/s1600-h/DSC_0061.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yd_HVq4GI/AAAAAAAAAdc/5in5F9T5Sn4/s400/DSC_0061.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182690978823856226" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeAHVq4HI/AAAAAAAAAdk/jg0Y5xJFtQ0/s1600-h/DSC_0064.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeAHVq4HI/AAAAAAAAAdk/jg0Y5xJFtQ0/s400/DSC_0064.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182690996003725426" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeBHVq4II/AAAAAAAAAds/gMdimWppbgc/s1600-h/DSC_0068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeBHVq4II/AAAAAAAAAds/gMdimWppbgc/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182691013183594626" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeB3Vq4JI/AAAAAAAAAd0/W_kbt_yujtE/s1600-h/DSC_0070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yeB3Vq4JI/AAAAAAAAAd0/W_kbt_yujtE/s400/DSC_0070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182691026068496530" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygZnVq4KI/AAAAAAAAAd8/GmqUEQ8R45A/s1600-h/DSC_0071.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygZnVq4KI/AAAAAAAAAd8/GmqUEQ8R45A/s400/DSC_0071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182693633113645218" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygaXVq4LI/AAAAAAAAAeE/x1rtNGwDEnk/s1600-h/DSC_0074.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygaXVq4LI/AAAAAAAAAeE/x1rtNGwDEnk/s400/DSC_0074.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182693645998547122" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygbXVq4MI/AAAAAAAAAeM/1iYtcWyuZ6E/s1600-h/DSC_0084.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygbXVq4MI/AAAAAAAAAeM/1iYtcWyuZ6E/s400/DSC_0084.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182693663178416322" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygb3Vq4NI/AAAAAAAAAeU/qrNbVA_J2es/s1600-h/DSC_0114.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ygb3Vq4NI/AAAAAAAAAeU/qrNbVA_J2es/s400/DSC_0114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182693671768350930" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yid3Vq4OI/AAAAAAAAAec/k_wek8tTkZE/s1600-h/DSC_0118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yid3Vq4OI/AAAAAAAAAec/k_wek8tTkZE/s400/DSC_0118.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182695905151344866" /></a><br /><br />Namibiaās coast<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yienVq4PI/AAAAAAAAAek/gQJd9sAKevU/s1600-h/DSC_0128.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yienVq4PI/AAAAAAAAAek/gQJd9sAKevU/s400/DSC_0128.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182695918036246770" /></a><br /><br />Testing the cameraā¦<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yignVq4QI/AAAAAAAAAes/QUOVAra_awA/s1600-h/DSC_0146.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yignVq4QI/AAAAAAAAAes/QUOVAra_awA/s400/DSC_0146.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182695952395985154" /></a><br /><br />Our group taking a break on the coast<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yihXVq4RI/AAAAAAAAAe0/-TuDo7PmhSk/s1600-h/DSC_0147.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yihXVq4RI/AAAAAAAAAe0/-TuDo7PmhSk/s400/DSC_0147.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182695965280887058" /></a><br /><br />Sunset on the dunes at Sossusvlei, the tallest dunes in the world<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykwnVq4SI/AAAAAAAAAe8/sdo8LbML3HU/s1600-h/DSC_0161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykwnVq4SI/AAAAAAAAAe8/sdo8LbML3HU/s400/DSC_0161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182698426297147682" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxHVq4TI/AAAAAAAAAfE/InMg5u8u9jQ/s1600-h/DSC_0164.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxHVq4TI/AAAAAAAAAfE/InMg5u8u9jQ/s400/DSC_0164.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182698434887082290" /></a><br /><br />A storm approaching Sossusvlei<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxXVq4UI/AAAAAAAAAfM/cr76QeNy0JI/s1600-h/DSC_0165.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxXVq4UI/AAAAAAAAAfM/cr76QeNy0JI/s400/DSC_0165.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182698439182049602" /></a><br /><br />Dinner!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxnVq4VI/AAAAAAAAAfU/N2flW-rOhAs/s1600-h/DSC_0181.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykxnVq4VI/AAAAAAAAAfU/N2flW-rOhAs/s400/DSC_0181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182698443477016914" /></a><br /><br />Lounging around at our campsite<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykx3Vq4WI/AAAAAAAAAfc/R-V6Im2t8OE/s1600-h/DSC_0184.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ykx3Vq4WI/AAAAAAAAAfc/R-V6Im2t8OE/s400/DSC_0184.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182698447771984226" /></a><br /><br />Sitting on the dunes<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynM3Vq4XI/AAAAAAAAAfk/8unS7tOXi-A/s1600-h/DSC_0187.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynM3Vq4XI/AAAAAAAAAfk/8unS7tOXi-A/s400/DSC_0187.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182701110651707762" /></a><br /><br />The next few photos were taken at about 6am, as the sun rose above the dunes at Sossusvlei.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynNXVq4YI/AAAAAAAAAfs/kx2ehe0Y7Xc/s1600-h/DSC_0188.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynNXVq4YI/AAAAAAAAAfs/kx2ehe0Y7Xc/s400/DSC_0188.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182701119241642370" /></a><br /><br />Jan distracts us from the sunrise<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynNnVq4ZI/AAAAAAAAAf0/NzAsstVJsi0/s1600-h/DSC_0203.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynNnVq4ZI/AAAAAAAAAf0/NzAsstVJsi0/s400/DSC_0203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182701123536609682" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynOHVq4aI/AAAAAAAAAf8/cmHfNYogcC0/s1600-h/DSC_0206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynOHVq4aI/AAAAAAAAAf8/cmHfNYogcC0/s400/DSC_0206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182701132126544290" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynOXVq4bI/AAAAAAAAAgE/CkWMAyGkIYo/s1600-h/DSC_0211.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ynOXVq4bI/AAAAAAAAAgE/CkWMAyGkIYo/s400/DSC_0211.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182701136421511602" /></a><br /><br />A group of Swedes (who backpack around Africa in a huge, bright pink tour bus) watching the sunrise<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ypsnVq4cI/AAAAAAAAAgM/P6gu88oSlzU/s1600-h/DSC_0213.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ypsnVq4cI/AAAAAAAAAgM/P6gu88oSlzU/s400/DSC_0213.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182703855135809986" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptHVq4dI/AAAAAAAAAgU/M-zE35Cz06Q/s1600-h/DSC_0214.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptHVq4dI/AAAAAAAAAgU/M-zE35Cz06Q/s400/DSC_0214.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182703863725744594" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptXVq4eI/AAAAAAAAAgc/kfze4AaXka8/s1600-h/DSC_0218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptXVq4eI/AAAAAAAAAgc/kfze4AaXka8/s400/DSC_0218.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182703868020711906" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptnVq4fI/AAAAAAAAAgk/QuAFKwq0tvE/s1600-h/DSC_0224.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yptnVq4fI/AAAAAAAAAgk/QuAFKwq0tvE/s400/DSC_0224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182703872315679218" /></a><br /><br />Taking a break with the group after a long hike up the dunes<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ypt3Vq4gI/AAAAAAAAAgs/cKkebxoXRdU/s1600-h/DSC_0225.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ypt3Vq4gI/AAAAAAAAAgs/cKkebxoXRdU/s400/DSC_0225.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182703876610646530" /></a><br /><br />Unfortunately, I ran out of water on the way<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysQXVq4hI/AAAAAAAAAg0/Ulsfo_DCXrQ/s1600-h/DSC_0227.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysQXVq4hI/AAAAAAAAAg0/Ulsfo_DCXrQ/s400/DSC_0227.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182706668339388946" /></a><br /><br />Now thatās parched earth<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRHVq4iI/AAAAAAAAAg8/NdXPOucP_qk/s1600-h/DSC_0236.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRHVq4iI/AAAAAAAAAg8/NdXPOucP_qk/s400/DSC_0236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182706681224290850" /></a><br /><br />Looking out over Deadvlei (Dead Valley)<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRXVq4jI/AAAAAAAAAhE/aHoDuRFuh1o/s1600-h/DSC_0242.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRXVq4jI/AAAAAAAAAhE/aHoDuRFuh1o/s400/DSC_0242.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182706685519258162" /></a><br /><br />The next few shots are of Deadvleiāa place thatās really photogenic and hard to stop shooting<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRnVq4kI/AAAAAAAAAhM/BRjePsdzl7s/s1600-h/DSC_0244.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysRnVq4kI/AAAAAAAAAhM/BRjePsdzl7s/s400/DSC_0244.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182706689814225474" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysR3Vq4lI/AAAAAAAAAhU/3FKxdoWzEgU/s1600-h/DSC_0254.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ysR3Vq4lI/AAAAAAAAAhU/3FKxdoWzEgU/s400/DSC_0254.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182706694109192786" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ytzXVq4mI/AAAAAAAAAhc/8V52GZRA_BU/s1600-h/DSC_0263.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ytzXVq4mI/AAAAAAAAAhc/8V52GZRA_BU/s400/DSC_0263.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182708369146438242" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ytz3Vq4nI/AAAAAAAAAhk/wm91KlDna2Q/s1600-h/DSC_0265.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-ytz3Vq4nI/AAAAAAAAAhk/wm91KlDna2Q/s400/DSC_0265.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182708377736372850" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yt0HVq4oI/AAAAAAAAAhs/E15FqLu0IBA/s1600-h/DSC_0266.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-yt0HVq4oI/AAAAAAAAAhs/E15FqLu0IBA/s400/DSC_0266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182708382031340162" /></a>Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-69865704204800574742008-03-22T11:53:00.004-05:002008-03-22T13:02:44.870-05:00illuminating the taillightsI'm writing from Durban, South Africa, on the tail-end of my road trip that began in Cape Town almost two weeks ago. Renting a car and traveling at my own pace, with the windows down and my music on the radio, was a very refreshing break from public transportation. With South Africa's (usually) well-maintained roads and civilized drivers, this was a good country to drive. And since I was driving one of the most popular routes in the most visited country in Africa, there was always someone nearby to chat and share experiences with.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-VJJ3Vq39I/AAAAAAAAAcU/6b-cgGcj7mY/s1600-h/south_africa_pol_2005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R-VJJ3Vq39I/AAAAAAAAAcU/6b-cgGcj7mY/s400/south_africa_pol_2005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180627380182114258" /></a><br /><br />To briefly outline my trip, I left Cape Town on the 12th, about twelve days ago. You can use the map above to get a general idea of where I was, although the smaller towns aren't on the map. In general, I followed the red line that goes from Cape Town east along the coast, all the way to Durban.<br /><br />On the first day I drove about nine hours, ending up just outside Knysna, a beautiful beach town on the coast. That night I went to a reggae concert in a nearby township (the South African term for a 'slum' or 'shantytown').<br /><br />The next day, I drove from Knysna to nearby Plattenberg Bay, a smaller town with an equally impressive beach. That night I went to bed with a headache, which I thought would disappear after sleeping. In the morning, I still had the headache, and it was worse than before. It didn't keep me from driving from Plattenberg to Jeffrey's Bay, the mecca for South Africa's surfers (and many shoppers, too). On the way to Jeffrey's Bay (which I thought was a really nice little town, with a laid-back surfer vibe and several nice little coffee shops), I passed the world's highest bungee jump. I had previously had my heart set on doing the jump, and I was even considering doing it even with a splitting headache. But my head was getting worse, and I decided to wait on the bungee jump. That night in Jeffrey's Bay, my sickness spread from my head to my stomach, and I spent a good part of the late night with a trashcan in my lap.<br /><br />The next day, feeling a little better than the night before, I left Jeffrey's Bay and drove to Port Elizabeth, one of South Africa's larger cities. I decided that this city would offer the best hospitals in the region, so I decided to go into one to find out what was wrong with me. After running the requisite malaria tests, they reassured me that while I did not have malaria, I did have a virus that was spreading throughout the region. They recommended that I take aspirin. Since it was the early evening when I left the hospital (and since Port Elizabeth is a pretty average place), I decided that I could still make some good progress along my road trip. I left the hospital and, after a couple hours, arrived at the small, inland college town of Grahamstown.<br /><br />In Grahamstown I stayed at one of the most interesting hostels I've been to: The Olde Gaol. The Olde Gaol, decades ago, was actually the town's jail. Today, it is a bar and hostel--after walking in through the large iron front door, I found my room in what was formerly a jail cell. To make the experience a bit more eerie, the place was almost empty, so I had a large dorm including eight beds all to myself. Although Grahamstown is located a short distance from the coast, it has a completely different, almost enchanted feel to it. And for such a region, there wasn't a better place to stay than an old jail.<br /><br />In the morning, I checked out of the jail and wandered to the nearby university, where I had an amazing spinach and feta omelette. Being near the university made me feel studious, so I read some of the two books I'm reading: "The State of Africa," by Martin Meredith (really great book, if you're interested in understanding the recent history of Africa), and Dostoyevsky's "The Idiot" (also a great book).<br /><br />After leaving Grahamstown, I wandered farther from the coast into what might be called South Africa's hill country. The landscape gets greener, waterfalls begin appearing, that eerie "enchanted" feeling becomes stronger, and the roads get worse and worse. In the late afternoon I arrived at Hogsback, a tiny mountain village of 1500 people. After checking into a hostel called "Away with the Fairies," I started to realize just how bizarre this village is. It has an area called "Hobbiton," and it's liquor store is called "The Ring." People in Hogsback claim it was the influence for Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings," and I think I believe them. Wandering around the many hiking trails running near the village, I almost expected to see a fairy. Instead, I was followed by families of monkeys and the smallest hummingbird I've ever seen. Eventually, I stumbled upon a large, beautiful waterfall, where I sat to write in my journal and watch the river crabs walking nearby. I think Hogsback is as close to enchanted as the real world gets.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Hogsback also left me with a flat tire, so, first thing the next day, I drove to the largest nearby city, East London, and spent my afternoon at a shopping mall (that had an electricity outage) near the mechanic. A new tire and a few hours later, I was on the road again, heading to what is known as the Wild Coast.<br /><br />South Africa's coastline is divided into several different regions, the most popular being the Garden Route. The Garden Route, which begins near Cape Town, is heavily touristy, with well-developed towns, shops, and roads. Along the Garden Route, it's oftentimes hard to meet locals, since foreigners work at the hostels and, oftentimes, even at restaurants. The Wild Coast, in contrast, is definitely wild--the towns are oftentimes very isolated and out of the way. There were a couple times I went hungry since there were no restaurants nearby. But, on the upside, the Wild Coast is closer to what is called "real Africa." In fact, the reason why the towns along the Wild Coast are less developed is because the region belongs to one of the various tribes that populates South Africa.<br /><br />After changing my tire, I drove to my first destination in the Wild Coast, Chintsa. The tiny town of Chintsa looks onto a gorgeous bay. Rather than lying in the sand, I preferred to sit on some large rocks that projected into the ocean and allowed me to be surrounded by crashing waves. The waves have eroded large holes in the surface of the rocks that are submerged during high tide, and that leave isolated natural aquariums at low tide. It was fascinating to sit by these holes and watch the tiny, independent ecosystems that lived inside, filled with coral, crabs, and snails.<br /><br />In Chintsa I met another American (Bostonian) named Anita, who had just finished volunteering for several weeks at a local game reserve. She invited me to visit the lion cubs she helped to raise, which made for one of the most amazing experiences I've had in South Africa. The three female cubs, being three months old, were already too big to be picked up, but letting them lick my hand, gnaw on my watch, and playfully scratch me with their huge claws was something indescribable, and unforgettable.<br /><br />I ended up tearing myself away from Chintsa and driving to Coffee Bay, another tiny coastal village. In Coffee Bay I felt closer to the local community than I had at any other point along the road trip--I hiked around the area, meeting several people and lots of their livestock.<br /><br />After Coffee Bay, I drove to my final Wild Coast destination, Port St. Johns. Even though the weather had deteriorated to the point that it was impossible to enjoy the beach, I think Port St. Johns would have been my favorite destination along the route--the nearby town is active and full of life, the hostel I stayed at was laid-back, colorful, and had tons of character, and the beaches were beautiful.<br /><br />Yesterday I left Port St. Johns and arrived here in Durban, South Africa's third largest city. Durban is also, I believe, South Africa's most diverse city, being home to members of various tribes, and the largest Indian community outside India. I've really enjoyed Durban--I'm staying at a beautiful, comfortable hostel (the Hippo Hide), and I've been able to explore the city a bit. Today I walked up and down Durban's coastline, watching everything from a skateboarding competition, to dancing minibus drivers jamming to their booming stereo, to an X-Games style motorcycle jumping competition.<br /><br />Tomorrow I'll leave Durban, drive through the Drakensburg Mountains, and eventually arrive in Johannesburg, South Africa's biggest, baddest city. I've been repeatedly warned about how dangerous Johannesburg is, but I'm looking forward to experiencing firsthand the city that encapsulates so much of what is South Africa. On Monday morning I'll have to say farewell to my VW CitiGolf. On Tuesday morning I'll take a taxi to the airport, where I'll check in for my flight to Bangkok and begin the next chapter of my journey.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-10729098605969929302008-03-12T06:10:00.002-05:002008-03-12T06:33:27.080-05:00south africaI'm going to add another place to my list of favorite cities: Cape Town. Since arriving here a few days ago, I've had a great time hiking, swimming in the ocean, sitting on a beach next to penguins, eating great food (including crocodile, warthog, kudu, springbok, incredible seafood, and the best lamb I've ever tasted), reading in cafes, and stocking up on supplies and new books at the city's many extremely large and nice malls. Cape Town really has it all. I could definitely live here, and I wish I could stay longer!<br /><br />Cape Town was made even better when I met up with a South African friend from college, Andrew. Spending time with Andrew, reminiscing about college, and learning about Cape Town and South Africa through his eyes was invaluable. He took me to a beautiful beach, where we swam in the frigid but refreshing Antarctic current, showed me where to find the best lamb the city has to offer, introduced me to South Africa's drink of choice (brandy and Coke), and even cooked me a traditional South African dinner (he even inspired me to learn how to cook!).<br /><br />Today I'm leaving Cape Town, or, more accurately, tearing myself away from Cape Town. In about an hour I'll be driving a couple hours to the wine country, then making my way to the coast. I'll be making the journey in a white 1.3 liter VW Citi Golf I rented a couple days ago. I'm doing well learning how to drive on the wrong side of the road (rotaries get confusing sometimes), but honestly the hardest part is trying to maneuver a car with no power steering. I'm going to be making the journey to the wine country and coast with three girls I met here in the city (from Germany, Belgium, and Spain), so it'll be great to have some company on the road. The path I'll be following along the coast is a popular one, so meeting people along the way and sharing a ride is a common thing. It's funny that even though I'm technically traveling solo, I don't think I've been alone on this trip yet--there's always someone to share a ride or conversation with, whether for a couple minutes or a week.<br /><br />I'll be posting more on my trip along the coast as I make stops along the way. I hope you're all doing well!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-17576855851971024792008-03-07T08:12:00.002-05:002008-03-07T08:55:16.469-05:00Africa with a touch of GermanyYesterday I returned to Namibia's capital, Windhoek (pronounced like "wind hook") after spending one week on a guided tour of the country. Our group, which consisted of six people from the US, Germany, Holland, Italy, and New Zealand, had a great time together.<br /><br />On our first day, we visited a cheetah sanctuary that rescues orphaned cheetahs (orphaned due to hunting, usually). I was fascinated by watching the cheetahs up close, but I was stunned when a young woman opened the tall wire gate with a bucket of horse meat, walked right into the cheetah's territory, and then invited me to follow her. For the next half-hour or so, I walked with the cheetahs, getting within inches of them as they fed, and at one point even getting to pet one. It was really a spectacular experience, especially after seeing the cheetahs from a distance in their natural environment in the Serengeti.<br /><br />In addition to walking with cheetahs, the group and I got a wonderful introduction to Namibia, which is really a beautiful, clean, and naturally spectacular country. In Namibia there is a very strong, obvious German influence (which I mentioned in my last post), from street names (I'm staying on Johann-Albrecht Strasse), to food (lots of great German bread and fudge). In addition to that, though, Namibia is the home of various tribes that live the same as they did during the Stone Age. While traveling around the country, I met the San people, the original inhabitants of southern Africa, and other indigenous communities, and in the process I learned a few of the 'clicks' that characterize some of the native languages here. One girl used all four of the clicks as she invited me to a dance that evening in her native language (I was sad to find out there wasn't actually a dance--she just used the invitation to teach me the clicks).<br /><br />Along our journey, we visited the second largest canyon in the world, Fish Canyon (the Grand Canyon is the first). We also visited what is probably Namibia's most notable natural site: the sand dunes in the Namib desert. These dunes, formed by sands blown in from the nearby Kalahari desert, are the largest in the world, rising close to 1000 feet. Climbing them is every bit as difficult as you probably imagine, but the views from the top and rolling down the side of the dunes makes the climb more than worth it.<br /><br />Near the dunes, in the southern region of Namibia, we visited an abandoned diamond mining town that used to be the center of Namibia's booming diamond trade. Abandoned in the 1950s, the town had been very well preserved by the sands, which now flood the homes and buildings, providing an eerie ambience to the place.<br /><br />Another spectacle of Namibia is its skies, both during the day and at night. We saw some spectacular sunrises and sunsets while camping in the middle of the desert, and the night sky, free from the pollution of city lights, is spectacularly bright with stars. At one point I saw two shooting stars within one minute, and it wasn't uncommon to see a satellite slowly making its way across the sky. It's amazing what we miss by living in cities!<br /><br />Now back in the capital, I'm stocking up on biltong (beef and game jerky, which, by the way is INCREDIBLE here) in preparation for my bus trip this afternoon. In a couple hours I'll be leaving Windhoek for Cape Town, South Africa. The trip will take about 20 hours. I've been told that as I go further south, Africa becomes increasingly European. My experience so far has definitely supported this. So I'm expecting South Africa to be even more European than Namibia. Even so, the mix here in Namibia is very interesting, and, from my perspective, a bit bizarre. Walking around the city, I see children with bright blonde hair sharing the sidewalk with African women in centuries-old traditional dress. And both call themselves Namibians. One thing that has struck me is that the history of Namibia--and Africa in general--is so apparent in the everyday scenes and events that take place on its streets. Walking through Africa is truly walking through history, and experiencing the interactions of peoples and cultures.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-85062989635783764642008-02-28T04:37:00.005-05:002008-02-28T06:45:05.388-05:00Windhoek on a whimSince boarding the Tazara Express in Dar es Salaam, it seems like I haven't stopped moving. The forty-hour train ride was wonderful--the mix of scenery, travel companions, and overall comfort made it one of the most enjoyable train rides I've been on. After becoming friends with a Tanzanian man who uses the train on a regular basis, we convinced the conductor to upgrade my ticket from second to first class. The first class section was great--we had four beds to each train compartment, and in the caboose was a bright red lounge with very comfy chairs (unless I was sleeping, this is where I was). The train passed by a couple game parks in Tanzania, which offered views of elephants, giraffes, and warthogs. Because I was sitting in the lounge with my nose buried in "Angels and Demons" (which I finished on the trip), I unfortunately missed the wildlife show out my window. One thing I didn't miss, though, was all the children running alongside the train, shouting, waving and laughing. From Tanzania's coast to central Zambia, the children in each village never tired of running alongside our windows.<br /><br />To me, traveling by land is usually a great experience; I love seeing how the landscape and people change as I leave one place and approach another. Looking out my train window, I watched tiny villages, beautiful national parks, tall mountains with waterfalls, and the occasional well-populated town pass by.<br /><br />I arrived in Kapiri Mposhi at about noon, two days after first boarding the train. Once there, I purchased a (very expensive) visa and found a taxi that agreed to make the two-hour trip to take me and a few friends from the train to Lusaka. Once in Lusaka, my friends (siblings James and Emily, originally from the UK) and I made our way to the city's main bus station with the goal of finding a bus to Livingstone, located eight hours southwest of Lusaka. I hope this bus station was Zambia at its worst, because it was a dirty, incredibly hectic place with someone trying to take advantage of us literally every step we took in the station. Fortunately, James, who lives in Malawi, has been to the station once or twice, and knew how to navigate the chaos pretty well. We eventually boarded a bus for Livingstone that, we were promised, would be leaving soon. It left four hours later.<br /><br />After waiting for the bus to leave for four hours, then being on the road for eight hours, James, Emily, and I arrived in Livingstone, the gateway to Victoria Falls, at about 3am. Fortunately, even early in the morning we were welcomed into Jolly Boys Hostel. In spite of the name, Jolly Boys is one of the best hostels I have ever stayed at, complete with a pool, pool table, a bar, a nice pillow reading area, and a kind of treehouse feel to the whole place. And it costs $8 a night! While visiting the Jolly Boys restroom, I noticed an advertisement for a trip to Namibia, a neighboring country that is extremely difficult to navigate without a tour group or your own 4x4. The tour was so attractive, well-priced, and convenient that the gears in my head immediately started turning.<br /><br />In the morning I visited reception. They reassured me that, with only one month, traveling from Livingstone to Cape Town via Namibia would be a much better idea than making my way to Cape Town via Mozambique. After a bit more research, I booked my ticket to Namibia's capital, Windhoek. But I'm getting ahead of myself.<br /><br />Before noon, I put all my necessary items in a ziplock bag and headed to Victoria Falls with James and Emily. These Falls, traditionally called the "Smoke that Thunders," are intense. Because we are currently in the rainy season, the enormous curtain of water (1 mile wide and 108 meters tall) and the mist coming from it were much heavier than normal. The Falls are fed by the Zambezi River, which also serves as the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. On the Zambian side, the best place to see the Falls is from an island that sits directly in front of the enormous curtain of water. Even standing directly in front, it's extremely difficult to comprehend the size of Victoria Falls--due to the heavy mist, it is extremely hard to see the Falls in their entirety unless viewing it by air.<br /><br />Having been to Niagara and Iguazu, I can say that Victoria is definitely the least developed park. In a way, that was a good thing--I was able to sit on the banks of the Zambezi with my feet in the water, literally ten feet from where the water plummets off the edge. For much of the park, there are no guard rails, only dirt trails that lead to the river's edge. Victoria is also definitely the wettest waterfall. Standing on the island in front of the Falls, the "mist" comes in like powerful rain in all directions--from above, from in front, and even from below your nose. Standing in the mist of the Falls, in awe of its sheer size and power, was a highlight of my time in Africa thus far.<br /><br />After returning to the hostel, packing my things, getting a good night's rest, and getting advice from James on my further travel through South Africa (he lived in Johannesburg), I boarded my bus for Windhoek, Namibia. Though the battered, grey bus was far from posh, the wind blowing in the cabin, the occasional elephant sighting, and some very friendly Norwegian passengers made the ride very enjoyable. I also had a chance to read a good amount of my new book, Nabokov's "Pnin."<br /><br />Arriving in Namibia, I can honestly say this country is one of the biggest surprises I've encountered since leaving the US. Perhaps the surprise was amplified by the fact that I arrived from Zambia, an extremely poor country with a reported HIV/AIDS infection rate of 30%. Immediately upon crossing the border into Namibia, I saw big, clean gas stations and enormous supermarkets that would have been at home in Florida. There were picnic areas along the road. And all of a sudden German started appearing all over the place. As I learned, Namibia was colonized by the Germans, and the country only gained its independence in 1990. As some Germans on the bus told me, some parts of Namibia are more German than Germany, simply because they have retained German traditions better than Germany itself has.<br /><br />Namibia's capital, Windhoek, presented me with even more surprises. This city of about 250,000 has beautiful German architecture, wide outdoor malls, and Mercedes and BMWs all over the place. In a way, I feel like I'm in a city modeled on a ski village in Colorado. This morning I smiled when a brand new BMW GS motorcycle passed me. After walking around a bit, I found myself in the middle of a beautiful street market, complete with arts and crafts, restaurants, coffee shops, and even several spotless malls. Needing some medicine, I wandered into a pharmacy where a German pharmacist advised me. Earlier in the day, my taxi driver told me, "We are like a little Germany in Africa. We have Lamborghinis!" This beautiful little Germany in Africa is truly bizarre, but I'm very glad I discovered it.<br /><br />Because I've heard from friends back home and here on the road that Namibia is a gorgeous, fascinating country, I decided to book a spot with a one-week camping tour that goes throughout the southern region. I will be leaving early tomorrow morning, and returning the afternoon of March 6th. Having chosen the tour on a complete whim, I'm really not sure what's in store for me, other than getting to see the tallest sand dunes in the world and a few German towns by the sea.<br /><br />My plans after my tour have also changed. Rather than making a 'J' route down the coast of Mozambique, further down the coast of South Africa, and finally to Cape Town, I have decided on a 'backwards 'J.'' First, I will take a bus from Windhoek to Cape Town. Once in Cape Town, I'll either take buses or rent a car and make my way eastward along the coast, finally reaching Johannesburg. From Johannesburg I will (time permitting) take a bus to Mozambique's southern beaches, which are supposed to be a highlight of that country. I will then return to Johannesburg and fly to Asia for the next chapter of my journey!<br /><br />Sorry for being a bit long-winded. I've discovered it's harder to find time for the Internet than I was expecting, so my thoughts keep accumulating in my head until I can share them on here.<br /><br />In general, I'm enjoying the backpacker lifestyle, skimming the surfaces of various countries, getting a brief snapshot of their cultures and lifestyles. It is definitely a contrast to the kind of traveling I've done before, which was almost always tied to work and, thus, a single specific place. When I was working in a single place, I was slightly jealous of those people I met backpacking across the continent. Now that I'm the one backpacking, I realize I would probably be very unsatisfied with this experience if I hadn't previously immersed myself for an extended amount of time in a single foreign country and culture. Driving by thatched-roof villages, I find myself wondering what it would be like to live in such a home, to share their food, and to become a temporary member of their family. My memories of Mongolia, Chile, and Uruguay temporarily calm my curiosity and keep me from getting off the bus, halting my journey, and spending the next few months in a village in rural Africa.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-66721791800210786062008-02-23T04:00:00.002-05:002008-02-23T04:17:12.934-05:00train delays in DarI'm currently in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, waiting to board a train to Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia. The train was supposed to leave yesterday, but 'mechanical difficulties' caused a one day delay. Apparently delays in Africa's train system are pretty normal.<br /><br />Dar isn't a bad place to be stuck for a day. I have a basic room at the local YWCA with a bed, mosquito net, and sink. It's pretty comfortable, but the midnight curfew was a bit annoying. Last night I saw "Gone Baby Gone" at a mall near the university. Seeing movies while traveling is always an enjoyable experience for me--it's like getting a little taste of home. I've also been reading a lot lately. I'm making my way through Dan Brown's "Angels and Demons," which is entertaining. I'm looking forward to beginning some of the other books I recently bought (a couple books by Nabokov, Turgenev, and Tolstoy). In my room at the YWCA I also found "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and clay," which I'm looking forward to starting. I left "Animal Farm" in its place for the next visitor to room 9.<br /><br />My train should leave at 3pm today (7am EST I think). The trip from here to Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia, will take just over forty hours. In Kapiri Mposhi, I'll find a bus to Lusaka (Zambia's capital), then to Livingstone, the gateway to Victoria Falls. After Victoria Falls, I plan to take public transportation back to Lusaka, then to Malawi's capital, Lilongwe. From there I'll head east to Mozambique (I got a 2-month, multi-entry visa without any problems). I plan to make my way down Mozambique's coast to Swaziland and South Africa. But I should be posting again long before that.<br /><br />I hope you're all doing well. I got to see a good friend from Florida, Katie, here in Dar. She's studying abroad here, and invited me to explore a bit of the city, and to visit an English class she teaches for local craftsmen. It was a wonderful experience, and I was very impressed by their dedication to their studies.<br /><br />Dina left for New York City a few days ago, which means I'm now officially on my own. It's a bittersweet transition, but I'm excited about the adventures that lie ahead, and the new friends I'll make. Backpacking usually provides a constant supply of interesting and unique characters.<br /><br />I hope you're all doing well! I'll be back soon with an update.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-14980479241883533822008-02-17T14:18:00.008-05:002008-02-17T15:48:35.809-05:00Tanzania, Zanzibar, and the next chapterHello from Zanzibar! I just took a few minutes to include links to some maps that I hope you'll find useful--the links are in the sidebar on the right side of the screen (over there------>>>>>). Thanks to UT-Austin's Perry Castaneda Library Map Collection, definitely the best I've come across. I've left the Fulbright-related links up in case anyone decides to read my older posts from Uruguay.<br /><br />It's strange to think that a few months ago I associated Zanzibar with Tenacious D and Disney World, and now here I am wandering around its busy markets and resting on its beaches. For those who are like I was, the island of Zanzibar is part of Tanzania, and is located a short distance off the shores of the mainland part of the country. I've posted a map of Tanzania--Zanzibar is just off the coast.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R7iI15tvUuI/AAAAAAAAAb8/Ou49Aa6N4s0/s1600-h/tanzania_pol_2003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R7iI15tvUuI/AAAAAAAAAb8/Ou49Aa6N4s0/s400/tanzania_pol_2003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168031032014754530" /></a><br /><br />Zanzibar is a great place for resting--it is a unique paradise with beautiful beaches with bright blue water (comparable to Cancun), amazing food that showcases the many spices grown on the island, and a very strong Islamic influence that is apparent in the various calls to prayer one can hear echoing throughout the city and the apparel worn by both men and women. The people are very friendly, and Stone Town (the section of the city where I'm staying--a UNESCO World Heritage Site) is a great place to get lost among the many winding alleys. At almost every turn I'm tempted to take a picture of what I see--Zanzibar is incredibly photogenic, from its architecture to its inhabitants, and, finally, its beautiful sunsets over handmade boats that sail along its shores.<br /><br />The past couple weeks have been filled with amazing experiences, which I'll try to summarize while still doing them justice. Dina and I arrived in Zanzibar early yesterday morning (just as George Bush was wandering around Dar es Salaam, a short distance away). For the week before our arrival, we were wandering around the game parks located in the northern part of Tanzania (very close to Kenya). We were very near to Mount Kilimanjaro and the city of Arusha, which you can see on the map (as a side note: contrary to what Toto sings in their hit song "Africa," Kilimanjaro is not visible from the Serengeti). To be more specific, we spent one day on Lake Manyara, three days in the Serengeti, and a couple days in or around the Ngorongoro Crater. All three places were spectacular.<br /><br />Dina and I really lucked out. We arrived at the safari company we booked with to find out that no one else had signed up for our trip--it was a private trip with just us, our guide, and a cook. Voyaging around the parks in a beefed-up Land Cruiser was a magical experience. At Lake Manyara, a large family of about thirty baboons wandered along the road with us, a couple babies lagging behind to roll around next to our truck. Elephants and giraffes blocked our route on several occasions.<br /><br />Ngorongoro Crater, the result of the collapse of an ancient volcano, is breathtaking not only due to the animals that live there, but also due to its sheer size and beauty. Inside the crater I felt as though I was wandering around either dinosaur territory or a fantasy world--a land that seemed untouched by humans. There were large, green hills, a mirror-like lake covered with flamingos, and, constantly in the distance, the enormous walls of the crater. I have a hard time describing Ngorongoro; Dina called it "Eden."<br /><br />The Serengeti lived up to its reputation. At this time of the year, millions of wildebeests migrate through the Serengeti National Park, and many of the animals give birth there. As you can imagine, this provides a ton of food for the lions, cheetahs, and other predators that inhabit the Serengeti. Watching the drama that plays out is like being in an interactive show on the Discovery Channel, or really several shows--we wandered from "Leopard Country" to "Elephant Country" to "Lion Country," and each region in the Serengeti's over 14,000 square kilometers had a distinct character.<br /><br />We watched as hundreds of thousands of wildebeests grazed along the vast Serengeti plains, as a pair of cheetahs gnawed at their kill while ducking from buzzards that hovered above their heads, and as hippos fought with each other only a few meters from the shore where we stood. At one point, we found three cheetahs gazing into the distance, looking for food. We followed them for an hour as they stalked a family of gazelles, only to be noticed and left hungry. In defeat and searching for another target, they wandered right by our truck, only ten feet from us. While watching the way the cheetahs stalked, walked, and waited, I understood just how different it is to see them (and all the other animals) in their natural habitat instead of up close and caged in at a zoo.<br /><br />Each night we found a campsite and put up our tents. There are no barriers between the campsite and the rest of the park--at night we could hear the sound of hyenas wandering around our tents, and one night I literally walked within feet of a grazing water buffalo. Once, at 4am, I awoke to the sound of water buffalo "mooing" in the nearby wilderness. Suddenly, this sound was followed by a roar--in the morning my guide told me he had also been woken up by the sound of lions hunting the buffalo.<br /><br />And so, carrying tons of memories and hundreds of pictures, I left the parks of Northern Tanzania and arrived here in Zanzibar. I only plan to be here a few more days--just long enough to visit the beaches along the northern coast and to plan the next leg of my trip. Dina will be flying back to New York in a couple days, which means I'll soon be forced to begin my journey as a solo traveler. It's been wonderful traveling with Aditya and Avani in India and Dina here in Africa, and now I'm excited to see what kinds of experiences I'll have on my own. Of course, I am going to be taking a few precautions--tomorrow I'll be visiting a tailor to have pockets sown inside my blue jeans, and on the underside of my belt.<br /><br />Although my plans are very tentative at this point, here's what I'm thinking (I hope this map helps!):<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R7iWsZtvUwI/AAAAAAAAAcM/q3PG38PFszs/s1600-h/africa_pol_2003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R7iWsZtvUwI/AAAAAAAAAcM/q3PG38PFszs/s400/africa_pol_2003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168046261968786178" /></a><br /><br />I plan to fly from here to Dar es Salaam later this week. From Dar es Salaam, I'll take a train west to Zambia, where I'll visit Victoria Falls (which is on the border with Zimbabwe, south of Lusaka). From the Falls, I plan to go back east to Malawi's capital, Lilongwe. Once in Lilongwe, I'll find a bus and head south to Blantyre, where I can take another bus to Mozambique's border. Once across the border, I'll make my way further east, all the way to Mozambique's coast where I'll arrive at Ilha de Mocambique (supposedly a beautiful island). Once in Mozambique, I'm planning to make my way south along the coast, past Swaziland and into South Africa.<br /><br />Of course, all these plans are tentative, but I'll do my best to keep you all posted on how things play out. Since arriving here in Zanzibar, I've received some advice (and inspiration) from some of the people I've met, including social workers, Peace Corps volunteers, and even a man who backpacked from Cairo to Cape Town. No matter how much I travel, I'm always impressed by the variety of people I run into. I'm going to stay flexible to the advice and information people share with me, which, in addition to my guide, will be the main influences on where I go from day to day.<br /><br />I hope you're all doing very well, and I'm wishing you the best.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-2709206796930213112008-02-09T09:35:00.000-05:002008-02-09T09:48:21.566-05:00a quick updateHello everyone! I have only a few minutes here in Kampala, Uganda to write, but I'll start by saying that things are going very well. Uganda is a beautiful country, with rolling, green hills, tons of flowers and vegetation, and some of the friendliest people I've ever met. Riding in a taxi, all the kids wave and yell "mzungu!" which means "white person!" Fortunately, Uganda is very stable, and the people seem to take a very active interest in the events of their neighbors. This has given me some great opportunities to learn about the turmoil that often affects Africa from a perspective I've never had before.<br /><br />Last week, Dina (my college friend and travel companion) and I went hiking in the Bwindi impenetrable forest to track down a family of mountain gorillas. The experience was spectacular and unforgettable--we got within 10 feet of the gorillas, including a silverback. They were incredibly docile as they munched their leaves, and seemed to only be mildly curious in us.<br /><br />Yesterday was another highlight, as we went rafting the Nile. We rafted about four class 5 rapids (the highest allowed for rafting). Contrary to what I was expecting, the experience was really intense. Two times our raft was flipped, and I was held underwater for about 15 seconds (the first time only to come up under another raft!). The second time a kayaker had to rescue me--I was coughing up water for about five minutes. It was pretty awesome!<br /><br />Tomorrow Dina and I will fly to Kilimanjaro, in Tanzania, in preparation for our trip to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater. Following that, we will head to Zanzibar, where I will plan the next five months of my journey!<br /><br />I'm wishing you all the best--I'll write again when I get a chance!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-15277759491721450612008-01-31T01:56:00.000-05:002008-01-31T01:58:40.607-05:00namasteI'm writing from the airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, a very bright and sunny place. On the flight here from Delhi, I was upgraded to first class, after being incorrectly told by the airline representative that my reservation had been cancelled since I didn't re-confirm it. So I ended up having a great flight in the almost empty first-class section, complete with an omelette and champagne. The highlight of the flight was waking up to a beautiful sunrise in a perfectly clear sky. Below us were vast sand dunes and not a single sign of civilization. The stewardess told me we were flying over Oman.<br /> <br />After having an enjoyable three weeks in India, I'm left with that frustrating feeling that I only got a small sample of a truly vast and fascinating place. With such a small amount of time, I limited myself to the western region of Rajasthan, which also happens to be the most touristy region in India (40% of tourists who visit India head to Rajasthan). As a result, I was constantly on the beaten path, struggling to see "real" India and being haggled by people used to dealing with tourists. The sites I saw were beautiful, and quite a few of the locals I met were kind and colorful, but I know I left a world untouched. I keep telling myself it's a good thing that I left something for the next time I visit!<br /> <br />I haven't done a very good job of keeping you all updated while I visited the "Three J's" (Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer, the three main destinations in Rajasthan along with Udaipur, which I wasn't able to visit). I first visited Jaipur, a pretty large city a few hours from Delhi that is known for its pink Old City. The highlight of being in Jaipur was spending time with Aditya and Avani, who were doing work there. Together we had wonderful food, did a little bit of exploring the Old City, and went to an interesting carnival complete with local food, traditional dances, and even elephant rides (which I thought were surprisingly comfortable). While not with Adi and Avani, I spent most of my time wandering around the Old City's markets, seeing notable sites including the City Palace and Amber Fort (a huge fort just outside the city), and talking a bit with locals. It was while in Jaipur that people first greeted me ("Namaste!") without the intent of selling me something. This was refreshing. Coincidentally, I also met a French guy about my age who has been traveling in India for the last four months. Having volunteered in a hospital in Calcutta, he gave me some very valuable information on doing volunteer work. By inviting me for a cup of chai tea, he also helped to break in my fear of sampling India's street food.<br /> <br />After a couple days in Jaipur, I took a bus to the blue city, Jodhpur. The bus departed at midnight, and was scheduled to arrive in Jodhpur seven hours later. These turned out to be the worst seven hours of my trip, and some of the worst in all my travels. Prior to the trip, Avani and I decided to have a very large, tasty meal from a street cafe. One hour into my trip, on the dark bus where I was crammed in a small seat near the window, I got sick. Needless to say, the next six hours of the trip were far less than pleasant. I finally arrived in Jodhpur, and spent the first part of the day doing laundry and recovering from the trip. Then I determined to make the most of my one day in the blue city. I'm glad I did.<br /> <br />Jodhpur was a beautiful city--the blue was more of a deep indigo, and made the city glow in the sunlight. Straying from the busy markets I got lost among the tiny pathways lined by blue. Children ran up and greeted me, inviting me to throw a ball with them. A few adults smiled and asked where I was from. I finally found my way to Mehrangarh, an enormous, spectacular fort that overlooks the city. The fort, which looks more like an huge, intricately detailed palace, seems to have been carved directly into the mountainside on which it rests. I spent most of the day there, wandering around the fort's many rooms and balconies. I sat, wrote in my journal, and had a cup of soup (my first food--excluding a chocolate chip cookie Avani gave me before my departure--since I got sick).<br /> <br />While writing in my journal, people would stand next to me and watch me write. I asked them if they could read what I was writing, and they never could--they just wanted to see my handwriting. Once, a whole family--a father, mother, uncle, and three small children--stood over my shoulder watching me write. They asked a few questions about me, then they each thanked me and shook my hand. Meeting people helped to reinvigorate me after my bus trip ordeal. I was again excited about traveling, in spite of its inevitable risks and discomforts. I was also reminded of the element that is most important to me in my travels: the people I meet.<br /> <br />Interestingly, after this reminder new friends regularly started crossing paths with my own. On the seven-hour overnight train ride from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer, I sat with a couple older Australian women whose passion for India was contagious. They shared some traditional Indian sweets with me, told me about the latest in Bollywood gossip, and further convinced me how essential it is that I see more of India.<br /><br />I slept very well and woke up in the desert city of Jaisalmer. Made of sandstone, this is known as the golden city. It is also much smaller than my previous destinations in India, having less than 100,000 inhabitants. The focus of the city is its fort, which is still inhabited and full of life, containing eclectic shops selling leather journals, books, colorful clothing, and spices.<br /> <br />I decided to spend my time in Jaisalmer escaping it all, so I hired a guide to take me into the nearby Thar Desert on a camel for three days and two nights. The Thar Desert, which borders Pakistan only 30km from where I was, is not the dune-filled desert you may imagine. It does, however, provide some beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and amazing views of the stars--views that vividly reminded me of Mongolia for maybe the first time since leaving there in 2004.<br /> <br />The highlight of the trip, though, was spending time with the other travelers who were also along for the ride--three adventurous 19 year-old Australian students. Spending time with these three was great. Their kindness, joy, and sense of adventure was contagious. Even though they were only 19, they gave me advice on traveling China, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam, and they wanted my advice for a year-long trip they plan to spend in Latin America. Although I wish we could have traveled together longer, we had to part.<br /> <br />And so here I am in Ethiopia! Having only been in the airport, I can't say much other than that it is definitely a cool feeling to set foot in Africa for the first time!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-77640921944970430902008-01-21T13:54:00.001-05:002008-01-21T14:42:35.213-05:00Leaving for RajasthanThanks to Avani's help, I am right now holding three train tickets that will allow me to explore Rajasthan, India's western region of deserts and palaces, and also the region that borders Pakistan. The region is famous for its "Three J's: Jaipur, Jodhpur, and Jaisalmer," three cities each with its own unique look and flavor. Jaipur is the pink city, Jodhpur the blue city, and Jaisalmer the gold city, which seems to arise out of the desert like a mirage. I will be gone about exactly one week visiting each of the three cities; here's the itinerary (you can find good maps here: http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/india.html):<br /><br />January 22:<br />Leave Delhi at 6:10am<br />Arrive at Jaipur at about 11am<br />See Jaipur<br /><br />January 23:<br />Jaipur<br /><br />January 24:<br />Jaipur<br />Leave Jaipur late night (around midnight)<br /><br />January 25:<br />Arrive at Jodhpur early morning (about 6am)<br />See Jodhpur<br />Leave Jodhpur at 11:25pm<br /><br />January 26:<br />Arrive at Jaisalmer early morning (about 8am)<br />Go on camel safari in desert<br />Spend night on dunes<br /><br />January 27:<br />Return from camel safari<br />See Jaisalmer<br /><br />January 28:<br />Leave Jaisalmer at 4pm<br /><br />January 29:<br />Arrive in Delhi at 10am<br />Leave for Kampala, Uganda, late that night<br /><br />I'll send more details of my travels in Rajasthan as soon as I have an internet connection and some free time. For now, I'll leave you with a few of the pictures I've snapped so far...<br /><br />Images from Jama Masjid, one of the largest mosques in India:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvEtOO3_I/AAAAAAAAAac/IKf7Rnjm_0Q/s1600-h/DSC_0048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvEtOO3_I/AAAAAAAAAac/IKf7Rnjm_0Q/s400/DSC_0048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158010337383866354" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvFdOO4AI/AAAAAAAAAak/D4WMELCJ1Gc/s1600-h/DSC_0064.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvFdOO4AI/AAAAAAAAAak/D4WMELCJ1Gc/s400/DSC_0064.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158010350268768258" /></a><br /><br />Delhi:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvGNOO4BI/AAAAAAAAAas/pZ5ljdmpoLk/s1600-h/DSC_0089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TvGNOO4BI/AAAAAAAAAas/pZ5ljdmpoLk/s400/DSC_0089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158010363153670162" /></a><br /><br />The view in a rickshaw:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwjNOO4CI/AAAAAAAAAa0/QCQXz2KnAlA/s1600-h/DSC_0102.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwjNOO4CI/AAAAAAAAAa0/QCQXz2KnAlA/s400/DSC_0102.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158011960881504290" /></a><br /><br />My backpack is delivered!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwjtOO4DI/AAAAAAAAAa8/4T3_IyP6N1g/s1600-h/DSC_0126.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwjtOO4DI/AAAAAAAAAa8/4T3_IyP6N1g/s400/DSC_0126.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158011969471438898" /></a><br /><br />Hamayun's Tomb (like walking into a fairytale):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwkNOO4EI/AAAAAAAAAbE/OjaTzGI4qkY/s1600-h/DSC_0203.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TwkNOO4EI/AAAAAAAAAbE/OjaTzGI4qkY/s400/DSC_0203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158011978061373506" /></a><br /><br />Me and Avani:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TyjtOO4FI/AAAAAAAAAbM/iB29P2Oe_Dw/s1600-h/DSC_0451.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TyjtOO4FI/AAAAAAAAAbM/iB29P2Oe_Dw/s400/DSC_0451.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158014168494694482" /></a><br /><br />Sunrise on the way to the Taj Mahal:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TykdOO4GI/AAAAAAAAAbU/VWUX3KYGUwk/s1600-h/DSC_0453.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TykdOO4GI/AAAAAAAAAbU/VWUX3KYGUwk/s400/DSC_0453.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158014181379596386" /></a><br /><br />Aditya rapping to "Intergalactic" on the way to the Taj Mahal:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TyktOO4HI/AAAAAAAAAbc/7otk_hYwN0k/s1600-h/DSC_0492.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5TyktOO4HI/AAAAAAAAAbc/7otk_hYwN0k/s400/DSC_0492.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158014185674563698" /></a><br /><br />The trio at the Taj:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0j9OO4II/AAAAAAAAAbk/we7j99eYjEY/s1600-h/DSC_0537.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0j9OO4II/AAAAAAAAAbk/we7j99eYjEY/s400/DSC_0537.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158016371812917378" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0l9OO4JI/AAAAAAAAAbs/XVbNw03C2rg/s1600-h/DSC_0555.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0l9OO4JI/AAAAAAAAAbs/XVbNw03C2rg/s400/DSC_0555.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158016406172655762" /></a><br /><br />Monkeys at the Taj (there are monkeys running all around Delhi, too)!:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0mdOO4KI/AAAAAAAAAb0/lDGptEmKS2c/s1600-h/DSC_0701.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_A_IG2j2ASWw/R5T0mdOO4KI/AAAAAAAAAb0/lDGptEmKS2c/s400/DSC_0701.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158016414762590370" /></a><br /><br />Good night!Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2956815377513999320.post-22734738965509208482008-01-16T16:12:00.000-05:002008-01-16T17:38:56.158-05:00playing the gameIf you've ever wanted to be shown all the ways you can possibly be ripped off, come to India. One could pack a decent-sized book with all the scams one may encounter here: taxi drivers tell you your hotel has burned down just so they can take you to another hotel that pays them a commission; individuals approach you at free museums claiming you forgot to buy an admission ticket, which they happily collect for; when you finally find a rickshaw with a working meter (most of them work; the drivers just claim they don't), the drivers take you three times the distance to your actual destination, claiming they misunderstood where you wanted to go. My guide even tells of a scam that occurred before the police cracked down on it: restaurants would poison the food of tourists so that they would be sent to a local hospital. The hospital would then reimburse the restaurant a part of the insurance money.<br /><br />Arriving, finding your hotel, navigating the public transportation system, and finally stepping into that park or museum you've been looking forward to is a trying process in any foreign country. When there are numerous individuals at every step of the process trying to make money off of you by feeding you false information, it's easy to become daunted. I reached a low point yesterday.<br /><br />I had decided to walk between two relatively close sites in Delhi. Unfortunately, a bridge for only vehicles blocked my path, and forced me to hire a middle-aged man to take me the ten-minute ride in his rickshaw. "How many rupees?" I asked him. He promised me, in fluent English, that he would use the meter. Once in the rickshaw, comforted by being able to watch the progress of my fare on the meter, the man began telling me about himself. He explained that he has lived in Delhi his whole life. He shared his favorite parts of India, which he travels every year, and why those places mean so much to him. He told me his son collects coins, and I offered him a quarter from the US. His son would be visiting tomorrow, and would be very happy to find the coin waiting for him. He was even planning a big celebration for his son. "You can ask me anything about Delhi," he told me, "I will give you an honest answer."<br /><br />I opened up to him too, seeing no reason not to since I had my current fare right in front of my face--no reason to worry about the possibility of this open, nice guy ripping me off, right? Wrong. I should have known things weren't as they seemed when he acted like he misunderstood my destination and headed in the wrong direction. I caught him in the act, but decided, instead of turning around, to go to another site I wanted to see in the direction he took.<br /><br />We finally arrived, and I thanked him for the ride and conversation as I withdrew money to pay the 67 rupee fare. "Sixty-seven rupees," I said. He responded: "Oh no, sir. The meter is only a gauge for distance. You need to multiply that number by five." Multiplying 67 rupees by five means I owed this guy eight dollars--at least two times more than any conceivable rickshaw ride around the city could cost, not considering the fact that he even went the wrong way. I told him that price was entirely unfair, and that I thought 100 rupees would be more than fair. He looked at me in the eyes and said, "Sir, that is simply not enough. This meter does not show your fare; it needs to be multiplied by five." I told him I would only give him 100 rupees and he said the words I have already heard and been confused by several times: "Sir, I have never wanted money. I will accept what you will give me, but I ask that you be fair." I swallowed my pride (and my common sense), thought about the good conversations we had about him and his family, and handed him 200 rupees. "If I give you any more, I'm going to have to walk home," I told him. He accepted.<br /><br />Walking away from the man, I was furious. I was frustrated that I had been ripped off once again. But, even more, I was upset that someone had gained and betrayed my trust so overtly. I wanted to be able to trust people, to listen to and believe what they told me about themselves. I took it personally.<br /><br />While fuming, I stepped into a nice statue shop, where I was greeted by a reserved young man. I looked for a few minutes, then began to walk out when the man said, "Please know that we will give you 40% off of anything in the store. That is just how it is done here in India." For some reason the man's words resonated with me. It is an assumption in India that things are listed as being more expensive than they are; it is an assumption that they will be bargained down. These assumptions are part of India's culture and society, and here I was taking them as personal attacks and betrayals of my trust. I decided I could either be frustrated with this aspect of India, or I could learn about it and play along. Considering how useful the ability to bargain would be while traveling through my next destinations (Africa and China), not to mention in life in general, I decided I would learn to play along.<br /><br />Realizing there was no shame in getting the lowest price possible, and that I had little to lose if I tried to offer a price too low, I went to work. I wandered into a packed, chaotic underground market and decided to go shopping for the first item on my shopping list: tape. I only needed a piece, and I eventually found one at an electronics shop. The guy wanted 100 rupees--yes, $2.50 for a piece of tape. After a minute of bargaining, I walked out of the store with a free piece of tape (the guy told me he was only kidding with me--that he didn't actually want me to pay for it. That's after he asked me for 100, 80, and, finally, 50 rupees).<br /><br />It was only a piece of tape, but it was like a big shiny trophy to me.<br /><br />When it was finally time to go home, I walked to the rickshaws, knowing that I would pay no more than 100 rupees for the ride back home. "How much to take me to Vasant Vihar?" I asked. "150 rupees." "I'll give you 60." "No way," the first driver told me. "Okay, thank you," I said, and walked away. After this conversation repeated itself with three drivers, I decided I was probably shooting too low. In the end, I got home for a fair price to both me and my driver. From what I've heard from the locals, a foreigner getting a fair price on a rickshaw is a pretty big deal.<br /><br />Earlier tonight I went out with the interns working with the Clinton Foundation here in Delhi. One of them shared her perspective on being ripped off in India. She considered that India is packed with people, each of whom is on his or her own. Many of these people are extremely poor, and on a daily basis watch people who bought a trip to India for a small fortune that could change their lives forever. Is it really any wonder that they try to earn an extra few rupees off of these foreigners?<br /><br />I suppose, in the end, that I'm grateful that Indians give foreigners a chance to use bargaining to defend what they have. In many of the other countries I've visited (Chile, Colombia, and Brazil stand out), violence is viewed as a much more effective tool for getting one's hands on a foreigner's wallet.Dustinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16604495798619201680noreply@blogger.com3