Mexican Dogs, Sharks, and Dirt Bikes

I’ve been trying to get to Mexico for years. Somehow it just never happened. I think because its so close and so available that I have been saving it for later, there has also always been this sense that its either for relaxation or partying, neither of which has ever appealed to me. The initial plan was to go to Cozumel Island on the east side of Mexico for its famous diving, but after some research, Cabo ended up being easier access, similar pricing, and had higher likelihood of seeing sharks while diving.

What had started as a solo trip was smiled on by good fortune. I had been able to talk Natalie and her boyfriend Cole into joining me. We all arrived in Cabo within an hour of each other, and Cole had some distant, vague, family member who kept a truck in Cabo. Expecting an old dusty Toyota, I was quite shocked to find we were being lent a brand-new-top-of-the-line hybrid F150. This seemed a way better idea than taking a bus or taxi. They delivered me to my luxurious two star hotel and took themselves to their rental condo. My hotel was clean, but dated and rough. Lots of cracked tiles, sagging ceiling, and throughout the time I was there, I saw a lot of little beetles and bugs. I realized, my step-brother may be right about my willingness to sleep anywhere when I absent mindedly slapped a cockroach-looking bug off my pillow, and laid down to relax without so much as a flinch or pause for concern. Maybe next time I should splurge for that 3rd star.

My luxurious accommodations

In the morning they picked me up and we went to a dog rescue to do a hike. It was near the marina and a very eccentric man led a big group of tourists and his many dogs on a hike that was more climbing than walking. We ended up just above the famous Cabo Arch. Along the way the guide would occasionally stop and tell the large group his philosophy on reality and physics. At one point he mentioned the vibration of the earth and the universe impacting your brain waves… and something about special breathing techniques to unlock higher understanding. Now, dont get me wrong, I enjoy a good cult as much as the next guy, but you have to start with peace and love…then work into brainwaves. Biology lessons aside, it was a great hike and the dogs were super friendly.

Sign is probably meant for other people.
Interesting sign to see on a hike…
This helps give scale of how steep it was. We started and ended at sea-level.
Guess these are kinda tricky to fly.

After the hike we stopped into the dive shop and solidified our plans, I was booked in for four days of diving and had brought cash to pay. We clarified the schedule and the bill, I was told $850cad, however the next morning when I came in, they ran the numbers again and it was $780. I was happy to not question it. Lunch was at a restaurant called Asi y Asado, it turns out it had be featured on Guy Fieri’s show. The food was pretty good, afterward we went to Costco and stocked up on snacks and bottled water… and I just realized I am yet to pay Cole back for that case of water… lets hope he also forgot. Two of Natalie’s friends arrived that evening, Sarah and Koda, they were sharing a room just below me in the hotel and it was a bit rougher than mine, largely due to the obvious mold on the bathroom ceiling.

Sealion in the marina.

When diving, its typical to have one outing, either morning or afternoon, that consists of two dives, with one tank used per dive. My first outing I was in for a bit of a surprise. For fear of my stomach, I skipped breakfast and got there early to get organized and avoid stress and rushing. I had also emailed in advance to ask if I could be put on a boat with a bathroom. Though, technically, the boat did have a toilet, they waited until we were out on the water before informing everyone on the boat, that it was “light duty” and for “number 1 only”… I think there was a miscommunication in my emails. My stomach didn’t feel great but I survived the first dive without incident. I was partnered with a very experienced diver from the US and was relieved to find I wasn’t using too much more air than my companions. This fear stems from my time in Thailand were I was on the mend from Pneumonia and was sucking through air much faster than anyone else on the dives. The dive itself wasn’t anything too wild, highlight being a Guitar fish, which I had never seen before.

Guitar fish.

While on surface between dives, my stomach began to boil a little. I mentioned to the guide that my stomach was a bit upset, he replied with “oh no, you might puke?” “no, other end”. He without much concern, said something along the lines of “well, if you go in the ocean, thats totally fine” which was weirdly reassuring. Luckily it didnt come to that. The second dive of the day was much clearer visibility at a place called Land’s End, which is just off the tip where the Cabo Arch is. Under the surface, I had a great view of the wreckage of an old ship. I was told it had been down there since the 40’s. At this point it was mostly scrap metal scattered along the bottom, but still an interesting experience.

Diving Lands End, ship wreckage in background.

The afternoon was spent at the beach with the girls while Cole took his open water diving course. Lunch was tacos and in the evening we played card games at the rental condo.

With fresh food available on every corner, its easy to understand why people love Mexico so much.

Day two of diving was with Natalie and Sarah, this was the first time I had ever gotten the opportunity to dive with friends. Its no surprise that it was a much better experience, I’m a friendly guy and will chat with strangers, but you just have better conversations and more jokes with friends. On our way to the first dive site we got a very close look at some whales which was amazing. Both dives had good visibility and we saw schools of small rays both times.

When we saw the whales, I stuffed my camera under water and filmed blind. In the video its more visible, in the photo, you can just make out the fins (tail fin lower left, pectoral fin middle bottom).
Sarah being silly.

Dinner that evening was at another Guy Fieri restaurant, this time it was Solomons, a higher end establishment. I had a Caesar salad that was prepared from scratch at the side of the table. The table next to us had Mexican coffee which got lit on fire and transferred back and forth between cups resulting in quite a light show.

Day three the dive shop was able to shuffle some things and have Cole, Natalie, Sarah, and myself all dive together. We went to the same places as I had on day one, this time we saw an eel out in the open, multiple octopuses, puffer fish, and Cole officially finished his training. At the end of the second dive, the current was strong on the surface, so we had to grab a line on the side of the boat and get towed away from the jagged rocks before boarding. It wasn’t far or fast, but it was an interesting experience. That evening we stayed in at the rental again, I retired early in the evening as I had a big day ahead of me. That was also the last I would see of Cole, Natalie, and Sarah as they were all leaving the morning. Sarah was headed home, and Natalie and Cole were headed north.

I took a picture of the famous arch, just before jumping into the water for a dive.
We had many friendly puffer fish on the first dive.
More of the sunken boat.
Natalie grabbed my camera and got a shot of me.
Natalie and a school of fish.

Day four was the big day. I got to the dive shop early and was given, along with two others, a ride to a partner dive shop about half an hours drive away. We got our gear sorted and loaded into the boat. We were introduced to our guide, the captain, and the first mate… a dog. He was introduced as an emotional support dog and a lookout, we were told if he starts barking to start looking around for wildlife, especially whales. No one is sure how he does it, some suggested he could hear them, other think smell, I don’t think its for us to know. Skeptical as I was, once we got out of the marina, the dog barked, and sure enough, a few whales just off the bow.

We got to the first dive site, Gordo 2, and were walked through the plan. It was a deep water, blue water dive. This meant, we would be going down deeper than standard recreational diving (in this case a maximum of 40m). We were instructed to stay behind and above the guide for safety, we were hoping to see scalloped hammerhead sharks and that if we encounter a group, its likely that one or two will come circle us and see. The understanding is they will be looking if we are large enough to be their predators or small enough to be their food. Luckily, we are about the size of a hammerhead so we would be fine. However, if they get too close for comfort, we were told just go vertical which will make us look bigger and they will likely go away. The boat dog cuddled me the entire time this was being explained to us.

We descended down to just below 30m and let the current carry us, we couldn’t see bottom and had no landmarks for reference so the guide followed his compass. The guide also kept a buoy above so the boat could track us. Shortly after we got to depth, the guide pointed to the left and there it was, a school of hammerheads. A few larger ones came our way and had a look, then rejoined the group. In the excitement, I started filming but got tunnel vision, and didn’t realize I was starting to sink. I took a look around and couldn’t find my companions, there were a few seconds of concern until my guide reached down, grabbed my BCD, blipped some air into it and pointed both fingers at his eyes, the universal signal for pay attention. Lesson learned. All in all, the closest the sharks got to me was maybe 10 or 15 feet, likely further, its hard to have a sense of distance or scale. We surfaced and rested on the boat, I apologized to the guide, he didn’t seem too worried about it and said it happens all the time.

The school appeared to contained hundreds of sharks.

The second dive was at Gordo 1, same setup, rules, and safety. The only difference being that we could see the bottom here, but it was at 60m, so we weren’t allowed to go down to it. Not going down to the bottom sounds easy, but the habit is to swim a few feet off the bottom so you really have to fight your instincts. We made our way down to depth and didn’t see anything too exciting, just a few small fish here and there. I noticed I was starting to get close to half my air (1500psi) and knew I needed to notify the guide, but he was a little far and I couldn’t get his attention with waving. By the time I did, I was at 900psi. We started to ascend to end the dive, he called me over and handed me his secondary air source. I wasn’t about to argue with him, but it did strike me as strange since I still had air, I took his and we slowly went up. During our ascent, a sealion started circling us and darting between. It was an amazing show, but also quite odd considering we were 8 miles from land. We hit our 3 minute safety stop at 5 meters and I was signaled to go back onto my own air source. Once back on the boat, I apologized again, and explained myself. The guide, ever the professional, didn’t seem to think much of the incident, just reiterated that I really needed to tell him sooner. I asked how much danger I was in with that little air, he said “none, I would have just shot up a second buoy and the captain would have sent a second tank and regular down on a rope”. Looking back on it, I think I may also have had a bit of nitrogen narcosis as I remember being a bit confused, and when he initially went to share air with me I thought we were at the 5m safety stop, in reality, we were at 32m. Its also entirely possible I just made an error and my pride wants an excuse. I made sure to tip that guide a little extra for saving me… and/or putting up with me.

I am on the left.

Once back on land and back to the original dive shop. I had lunch with my diving partners for the day and Koda. Afterward Koda and I went back to the beach, had an early supper, then turned in early as she was flying out the next day.

Koda’s last day we went to the local museum, it had the spirit but was a little underfunded and underwhelming. She caught a ride to the airport and I went to a bar that sold mojitos and cigars, and enjoyed one of each. The following day I moved from my hotel to a resort and immediately regretted it. It felt fake, isolated, and sterile. I want some grit on my vacations. I want people to wonder how I do it, not how I afford it… thought this resort was pretty cheap so there’s no mystery there.

A well balance lunch as far as I’m concerned.

My last big activity of the trip was a good one. A man in a dusty Toyota truck pulled into the resort to retrieve me, he had a passenger with him and both had a “hell yea” attitude. It was a comical juxtaposition with the continuously swept tile of the foyer. While we made our way to the clubhouse, traffic was terrible, the driver looked at me and said “hold on, I have an idea” and cut off the road, down some gravel to an open sandy expanse. He drove his truck cross country for a few minutes explaining that he had a lease on all that land so its fine.

We got to the clubhouse and I was kitted with all manner of protective gear except for riding boots, I had to provide my own on account of my size 14 feet. I was paired with a young guide, who definitely weighed less than his 450cc dirt bike. I was given a newer version of the same bike, a honda , and told to follow the guide. We made our way across the sandy field we came in on, then onto sandy roads, then gravel, then rough pavement, then back and forth through all manner of road, track, and trail. We stopped occasionally to take in the view, drink some water, or step behind a cactus. Ripping on a dirt bike around Baja was just one of those things like hiking in the Himalayas that feels weird to say out loud, I just know that’s someone’s life goal and I did it casually on a two week trip.. go do stuff people, its easier than you think.

Flying down a sandy road.
Nice bird in an old cactus.

The half way point of our trip was at an ocean front restaurant. I ordered three tacos, a coke, and pet the local dogs while I waited for the food to come out. It was delicious, tacos in Mexico and a cold soda after driving in the heat, it was almost a religious experience. We climbed back onto our bikes and headed back along a slightly different route, this one took us more along the side of the ocean. While riding, the guide pulled over abruptly and excitedly pointed at some whales. If memory serves, that was the 5th group I had seen on this trip, starting to look like an infestation at this point (this is a joke, protect the whales). We made our way back, this time much faster across the sand now that I had some time to find my groove on it. Riding in sand is an odd experience, its sort of like driving on ice where you have limited control or traction. It differs wildly from ice in that you are always in a bit of a floating sway, like a vaguely controlled hydroplane. Speed is your friend, you want to glide across it, and that feels very unnatural.

Selfie at the restaurant, note the ocean in the background.
Dog that joined me for lunch.
Returned along the coast.

After the bike was back safely and parked, the guide offered me a beer, it was my favorite brand… free. Post-beer, I was given a ride back to the resort. I must have looked quite the sight, covered in dust, carrying my boots through the clean building on the way to my room. It was good feeling.

Technical

I want to get out ahead of the scuba incident. I got a great photo of him and I while I was using his secondary air. He politely asked me not to post it on social media because a lot of internet “experts” will have a lot of criticism about it. I screwed up by not banging something against my tank to get his attention, and he rectified the situation easily. Despite what I will tell ladies on dates, I wasn’t actually in any danger at any point. In fact, the most dangerous part of running out of air on a shark dive was the sea lion… apparently they have a sense of humor and have been known to nibble fins and hoses, but rarely do divers actually get nipped. After the dive I asked about the air share when I still had air left, he said it was better to not exhaust your own air completely before sharing just in case there’s an emergency and you need to split up again. This explains why he signaled me back onto my own air once we were at the safety stop, at that point I could just surface if I ran out.

Also, I went through all this deep water dive for a chance to see hammerheads, which I did… but Cole saw one while taking his course just outside the marina in 18m of water. So, no dive is a bad dive and you never know what you’ll see.

The bike I used was a Honda CRF450 with some modifications and I just stuffed my own boots into my checked luggage, they took up a lot of space but I didn’t bring a lot of much else. I brought my duffel bag instead of my usual backpack which felt very weird, but I was glad to have it. The extra room ended up being for souvenirs, cookies, a t-shirt, and koda gave me a cheap towel she bought for the beach.

My parents bought me a Casio G shock model DW-9052 just before this trip so I kept sending them photos of it in questionable places. Not surprisingly, its a great travel watch, has all the features I want, not too expensive, not too flashy, and can handle abuse… Probably why NATO uses them.

At the top of the hike.
Deep diving. Those blurs in the top right are hammerhead sharks.

Lastly, this was a fun trip to explain to my travel insurance provider…


Posted in Dirt Bikes, Hiking, Motorcycle, Photo Drop, Scuba Diving, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , with 1 comment.

Thailand Notes Part 4: A Resort And An Ending

For the remainder of my trip, I wanted sun, beaches, and relaxation. So I picked a small island and booked a scuba resort.

Koh Tao Island

The process of getting from Chiang Mai to my hotel on Koh Tao Island was quite a long-drawn-out event. Here’s the short version. I caught a plane to a city who’s name I dont recall, and had to deal with taxi drivers and tourists arguing over the cost of transportation… again. I will never understand why a tourist will argue with a taxi driver over $2cad. Spent the night at a hotel, then took a taxi to a bus to a boat to another boat and spent a lot of time baking in the sun between. At some point someone stuck a sticker on my shirt that showed my final destination. It made me wonder how many tourists they’d lost before they came up with that idea. Once again I was alone, heading out to somewhere I had never been surrounded people I don’t know. Luckily Thailand is visually more inviting than Nepal and I arrived at my destination during the day. They also had someone from the hotel pick me up at the dock. I had booked my stay at Ban’s Diving Resort, thinking, to hell with it, I’ll spend the last of my money at some beachside motel and relax. Well, I thought it was a little hotel claiming to be resort, a common exaggeration when you budget travel, but this was, by far, the nicest place I had ever stayed. They had multiple pools, a dozen buildings to house guests, a landscaped garden between, and even a golf cart that worked like public transit. I signed in and signed up for a scuba refresher in the morning, I had my license, but I was rusty. After food I went to bed, sunbaked, desperate for sleep, and thankful I had paid extra for AC. 

The refresher was fairly uneventful. I was tossed into a pool with another diver and an instructor and retested on the basics. It didn’t take much for me to get back into the groove. However, I was a little suspicious of the other diver with me. He claimed to have done over 100 dives and to have his advanced open water. His skills in the pool and general lack of knowledge shed some doubt on that. It crossed my mind that no one actually asked to see my certification, and therefore, one could easily lie and just go diving. It strikes me as needlessly dangerous for yourself and those around you but, it could be done. I believe this was the case with that individual but it wasn’t for me to say. After class, I got talked into an afternoon excursion and the dive master was the instructor who gave me the refresher, so it all worked out well. The first dive I was plenty nervous but it was fairly uneventful. It was exciting enough I decided to ignore my budget and take my advanced open water course. The following days dives were a little more exciting. I dove with a French man who was rather rude and pushy underwater, swimming too close to me and to wildlife. He got within inches of a turtle and bluff charged by trigger fish, shame they didn’t nibble him a bit, pain may have taught him a lesson. In the evening I went for a long walk up and down the beach. It was beautiful, but it was lonely. It’s a strange feeling to be lonely in a place many consider to be paradise. I had once read that resort towns, like the big ski towns in The Rockies, have a really high suicide rate because people move there and find it doesn’t solve their problems.

Chatting in the water

Getting my advanced open water was a lot easier than I had expected. I assumed there would be some course work, maybe some theory, or a test. We just did specific dives. Basically there is a list of dives and you pick 5 of them, that’s the class. In this case, the instructors picked based on what was available to us and what they felt would be the most fun, which is a fair way to operate. We started with a deep-water dive, we went down to 28m and played a math game to check for nitrogen narcosis. A condition I am told will cause a sensation similar to being intoxicated and impact motor skills and brain function. The test was: the instructor holds up fingers and we hold up however many we needed to add to get to 11. For example, she holds up 6, so I hold up 5. It’s a smart test, though somewhat revealing of how bad some of us are at mental math. We were only that deep for about 4 minutes, then slowly worked our way up and took in the sights. Interesting side note, at that depth we hit the thermocline, that razor sharp edge where water gets very cold, if you’ve ever jumped into an Alberta lake you may know what I am talking about. Our next dive was supposed to be a “fish identification” dive where in we practiced hand signals for different species of fish. Once we got down to depth, we saw that the ocean was littered with plastic bottles, one of the instructors went up and got a large mesh duffel while the other got us all stacking the bottles into a pile. In the end we only made a small dent but cleaning garbage out of the ocean was very satisfying. I like the idea of having a task beyond looking around, much like hiking, I prefer to have a goal. After the dive we dumped water out of the bottles and stashed them away. I’m hoping they didn’t just go onto a barge and back into the ocean somewhere else.

My advanced open water class, I am in the red hat.
I believe this was the dive we cleaned the garbage.

Night Dive

We sat on the boat and waiting for dark, as the sun set, we slipped back into the water. Truth be told, I was terrified while waiting on the boat, but as soon as I got in the water I was just excited. It was like motorcycling in the rain, I was so focused on the task and it was such a rewarding challenge, my brain just didn’t have room for fear. We pointed our flashlights and saw the blue patches on a stingray glow. The instructor brought us in a circle and had us shut of our lights and wave our hands. As we did, bioluminescent plankton lit up. It was very faint and you had to really look for it, but the little blue flashes were there. It was not a light show that rivaled fireworks, it was just faint whispers of light not intended for the human eye. After the dive I went to the restaurant attached to the resort and found I couldn’t get anyone to come take my order, or even bring me a menu. This was a common theme at that establishment during my stay. Throughout the week I just went to the nearby 7-11 for suppers and ate them on my balcony. It was quite isolating, and very stereotypical of a tourist to eat all his meals from 7-11. Towards the end of my stay, one of the instructors informed me there was a really good fried chicken restaurant about a block away… I became a regular there during my stay.

Screen shot from gopro footage my dive master sent me.
Stingray during a night dive.

The rest of the week was more diving and relaxing. One of the dives was a navigation dive where my partner and I were shown a map, given a slate to draw our own and make a plan, then off we went. I suggested she take the lead as I have a lot of experience with maps and she said she needed the practice. She got lost almost immediately. I recognized a large rock crack and took the lead. We did a lap around the pinnacle and did a swim-through at 26m. I was about to lead us south west to a rock pile, but she stopped me. It turns out I was running very low on oxygen. We made our safety stops and surfaced. The entire ascent, we locked arms ready to share her air via the spare regulator. It never came to that, I ended with just under 15 bars on the gauge. Typically, you try to end with somewhere between 40 and 50 bars of pressure. After that dive we did a shipwreck, unfortunately visibility was horrible. I could barely see my outstretched hand. So I followed the group only able to see their silver tanks in all the green algae. We did a swim through on part of the ship and got some pictures. It was a strange disorienting sensation to be swimming and see the current change direction, without a fixed object for reference, it felt like I was spinning and changing direction against my will. It felt like drunken spins. Diving in poor visibility is something I thought would be terrifying, but once down there I realized that no matter how bad it got… I could just go up. This made it an interesting learning experience, but I was sad I didn’t get a good view of the ship, the pictures I have seen of it look amazing… One more reason to go back.

Taken on the ship wreck dive, note the poor visibility. In the photo I am passing through the bridge in the photo and it cannot be seen.

I decided I wanted to get a tattoo on my second last day on the island. My diving was done and I wanted a full day to recover before taking boats, busses, and planes where aftercare would be difficult. I booked my appointment at a well reviewed shop. He quoted me a price of about $150 cad and told me to be there at 3pm. I came back at 3, after my last dive. He was tattooing someone else and without looking up, he told me to come back at 5. I went for pizza and never came back. To hell with him if he can’t keep a schedule. Didn’t need that tattoo anyway. Later, I had a few drinks at the bar with some of the dive instructors. It was nice to see they were super friendly even off the clock. After a dozen dives and about a week on the island some part of my mind was considering finding a way to stay, maybe get trained as a dive master and make my living that way. Its weird, I was still quite sad and alone feeling, but I wanted to stay. I liked the diving, I didn’t like the empty hotel room. 

Back To Kathmandu

My full week in a private room on the resort and diving daily resulted in a bill of just over $800. I don’t know how it ended up that cheap, I was expecting a little over double that but they offered discounts for dives and accommodation. I didn’t ask too many questions or look too close. Happily and hurriedly, I paid my bill and left the office. The next few days were just an uneventful blur of busses, boats and a plane back to Bangkok. I stayed at the edge of town near the airport far from anything a tourist would want to see. The next day I went to the airport and waited for my flight back to Kathmandu. In the airport, I did a tourism survey and was given a small coin purse. It really felt like a scam of some kind but they never asked me for personal information so it must have been legitimate. I also took the opportunity to send a few post cards to my family. While waiting to board the plane I noticed a Nepali man wearing a Magpul shirt. Naturally I went over and complimented it. He informed me he was from Nepal but lived in the USA, hence the firearms shirt. On the plane, near Kathmandu, we hit some hard rain and turbulence. We circled the city for about an hour waiting for the weather to clear. We were told we may divert to Delhi, luckily it didn’t come to that. This time I stayed at the same hostel, they just texted me the room number and I helped myself. It went much smoother than the first time I stayed. I was also very relieved to see the duffel bag I had left behind in storage was still there, dusty, but untouched.

Kathmandu from the airplane.

I spent the next few days wandering the streets of Kathmandu in a smug self-satisfied way, I was proud of myself for all I had done. I picked up a few more gifts for friends and family from the various little shops and decided to splash out and stay at a $35 a night hotel my last two nights. It was beautiful, big, and clean. The balcony overlooked a little shrine statue in the alleyway. In the evenings I smoked cigars on the balcony while writing in my journal. Mamita asked to meet me at a café at 9pm. I wandered the dark streets to get there, thinking about how 10 weeks ago they would have terrified me. Upon arrival I found my phone was off, I turned it on and found she had texted me to reschedule for the morning. Mamita met me for breakfast and I told her about my travels, it was nice to catch up. On the way back to the hotel I bought Natalie a Royal Enfield T-shirt to match mine, she had requested it. I wasn’t sure when I would see Natalie again, but we were already talking about her coming to visit me at home during the summer to do some hiking, that did end up happening, along with a few other trips. Repeatedly I repacked my gear for the flight home, and relaxed in my hotel room, for supper I had a water buffalo burger that was positively amazing. 

I just like this watch and the prayer flags made a nice background.

The last day was dull, almost intentionally so. I tried to sleep in, I checked out at 2pm and stored my bags. I walked Thamel one last time and tried my best to soak it in and remember the feeling and the smells. After some lunch, I bought a 200npr copy of H.G Well’s The Time Machine. Finally, it got late enough, I got a ride from the hotel to the airport and started the long trip home. There were long flights and layovers and I had no idea what my life would hold when I got home. At the time, I had no job, and no plan, and was somehow, ok with that. My friend Troy picked me up at the airport, fed me a burger, and delivered me to my apartment. Everything was how I left it, and I didn’t feel too terribly different… Maybe a little thinner… I was sad it was over, and I was glad to be home, it was time to sleep in my own bed, and see what the future held.

Kathmandu skyline.

There’s no great way to say this, but I took this trip because I hated my job and was depressed about my divorce. It’s hard to say if it helped with either of those much, but I think it turned out to be a net positive for me in other ways. I made friends that I am still in touch with and in less than a week of posting this, I will be meeting Natalie, her boyfriend, and two of her friends in Cabo to do some diving. And probably never would have gone to Guatemala if it weren’t for Natalie and Renata. Aside from the people I met, it let me do a bit of a hard reset and take stock of what I want to do with my life. Certainly I don’t have all the answers, but I know now that I want to keep travelling and I know I want to spend time with friends and family… After some time at home and at a semi-office job, I took another run at HVAC, it turns out that job wasn’t a good fit, but the industry is and I am now a first year apprentice and going to trade school in the new year. Turns out I like working with my hands and fixing things. Not everyone has the opportunity to travel like I do, but that was the life I had built for myself… and this trip has made me optimistic about what the rest of my life could look like now that I have a better understanding of what I do and dont want out of it. As for healing from my divorce, it didn’t help, only time was able to do that. But hey, it might help you, so book the trip, and tell me all about it when you get home.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading these stories… more to come in the future.

Natalie and Renata in Jasper when they came to visit me a few months later.

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Thailand Notes Part 3: The End Of The Loop

In the morning, we all agreed to stay an extra night at the same hotel in Mae Hong Son, I needed the rest and I think the others did too. We decided to do a day trip to visit a Long Neck Kayan village (sometimes spelled Karen). Riding to the village, the roads deteriorated from nice tarmac to dirt, and just before the village there was a steep downhill. The road was cut out of a hill and had a steep berm on both sides. Courtney and Will were far ahead of me and when I came to the hill, I saw the Courtney had been the victim of our first crash. She was, for the most part, unhurt. She had some scrapes on her elbow and knee, but nothing serious. Her bike took a few dings, and a mirror had spun loose. I used my multi-tool to tighten the lock nut holding the mirror in place, and we continued. We arrived at the village and found it small and nearly empty. We walked the main street and saw a few vendors had small huts set up selling trinkets. The Karen people are refugees from war torn Burma, the women famously wrap brass coils around their necks to give the appearance to a longer neck (it actually pushed down the collar bone creating the illusion of a long neck). The women were friendly, but the village was primarily peoples houses and small stalls selling to tourists. I didn’t want to invade peoples’ privacy and wander into their homes, which I have heard of other tour groups doing. A local woman with excellent English introduced us to some other women selling their souvenirs, I bought a bottle opener for myself and a post card for my nephew. I decided not to take pictures of the locals, it already felt like an awkward invasion of privacy and snapping pictures felt like another level of that. After a very brief tour, we headed out.

I grabbed this in town at some point… I am unreasonably proud of it.

Natalie had mentioned seeing a sign along the way for “something she wanted to check out” so we stopped and had a look. It was some sort of business sign outside of a farm and while we debated what it was and if we should pull in, a woman was riding out on a scooter. She informed us that it was a restaurant owned by the farmers. Natalie was interested but Courtney and William weren’t, I wasn’t overly interested myself, but Natalie didn’t have a GPS to get her home. With all the charm of a wet blanket, I decided I best have some lunch with her while the others headed back. We went in to the empty open-air restaurant. Our table was shaded by a thatched roof held up by beams and no walls. The waitress spoke little English so, I just pointed at the cooler and ordered us a glass bottle of soda water, thinking it was cool. It turns out that cooler was just for show. We were brought glasses and a bucket of ice to go with it. I wash shocked at how refreshing that was in the heat. We finished the small bottle, and someone who spoke better English came by. We ordered another bottle of soda water and some chicken with rice. While we ate and chatted, I got my phone onto the Wi-Fi and translated the menu. It turns out their specialty was frogs. I was tempted to try some, but we had just eaten and I was full. At least, that’s the excuse I used. This lunch, somehow, stands out to me as the best meals of my trip, or possibly ever. It was probably the company, and the fact I was in a country I never thought I would see and doing something I never thought I would do. But there I was, on the other side of the world riding a motorcycle in a jungle, and now eating lunch with someone I had known for little more than a month. There was no rush to do anything for the rest of the day, the food was good, and the drinks were cold. We explored the grounds a little and then went back to the hotel to relax for a bit before doing a hike up many many stairs to get to two large stupas. While there we saw monks doing evening prayers. I don’t know for sure, but that high up, we looked west and I am sure we could see Burma. Or, rather, trees that were growing in Burma. We went for supper and then went for a walk so the others could show me roti, a local dessert. It started to rain and we ate our crispy, crepe-like dessert under the eave of a building next to the sweet woman who made it for us. Afterward, we had a late night at the hotel, we sat on the patio out front of our cabin until nearly midnight talking a lot about not much at all and stuffing our faces with snacks from the local convenience store. 

Mae Hong Son during the day. Note, our hotel was near that pond in the center of town, I believe.
Mae Hong Son at night.

I woke not feeling well, a price paid for my over indulgence in sweets before bed. Our first stop of the day was at the Su Ton Pae bridge. On the way there, Courtney and Will had gotten ahead, and Natalie, without a nav system, missed a turn. I struggled to catcher her on the winding narrow road, eventually I flagged her down and we got going in the right direction. It was a large bamboo bridge across a field. I think the field flooded seasonally to necessitate the bridge, but I don’t know that. The bridge ends at a Buddhist temple. While there we hung a small slab of wood, about 2 inches by 6 inches on a wall with others. People write their names and their wishes on them, we put “loop group”, our initials, and “good vibes” on ours. I used the bathroom, on the way out saw a dog curled up drawing ragged breath, I found an empty bowl on the ground and filled it and put it near him. I hope he was just dehydrated and that I helped, but I will never really know.

Bamboo bridge.

Our next stop was at Fish Cave, a spring fed cave that became a stream full of carp. They were called Mad Carp because they contain a toxin, and possibly as a result, they are considered holy. At the entrance we were sold a small pail of greens to feed them. When dropped into the water, it was an absolute frothing feeding frenzy. The grounds were well kept, and the river was crystal clear. Natalie had mentioned seeing a sign about a hike from the main road and wanted to investigate after the fish cave. We went and followed the trail until it led to a steep hill with some signage. My phone translator wasn’t overly clear but it seemed to say do not enter, and possibly something about danger. Will and Natalie promptly ignored that sign and continued. Courtney and I decided to head back and wait. We sat in a small wooden hut near a bridge at the trailhead where the bikes were parked. The others were gone for nearly an hour and I think we were both fairly annoyed by that. I think the heat was starting to get to me and my attitude. My grump session was interrupted by seeing locals spear fishing in the river. They had scuba style face masks on and rudimentary fishing spears and were having pretty good luck, it seemed.

Mad Carp.
Young men fishing. Note the old style, oval single-lense style goggles.

Eventually Will and Natalie came back, having found some sort of small monastery at the end of their hike. It was now time to head for the hotel. Unfortunately, we got somewhat separated and Courtney got far ahead. I ended up guiding the others to our destination, the town of Ban Rak Thai, a Chinese settlement, about 1km from the Burma border. I read online it was started by soldiers who were opposed to the communist revolution in China. The town had beautiful red lanterns hung over the streets. At the hotel it was a bit of confusion about rooms but we settled on a 3-bed dorm style room for 1000 baht total. The hotel was also very confusing, it was mostly concrete and wood and had a variety of stairs and ramps going every which way. It felt somewhere between a treehouse and a maze , or perhaps a combination of the Winchester Mansion and The Lost Boys hideout in Neverland. We went for supper, but the first place only had Chinese soups and noodles that my western eyes didn’t recognize as food. Luckily, they were sold out of what the others wanted to order so we went elsewhere. The next place we went to was lakeside and much nicer inside. I got a pork omelet and it was amazing. On the walk back, we bumped into another tourist on a scooter who was very much lost. He wasn’t very clear but it sounded like he had missed the turn to get to a monastery. We wished him luck as he left, I do hope he made it.  

Ban Rak Thai. This is probably my favorite picture I took the entire trip.
The weird hostel also had strange décor. I know a lot about guns, that top one looks like a homemade, but functional, one.

We got a late start on the day and ended up leave at about 12:30, it was raining lightly and I bought us some cheap rain ponchos. Somehow I still have mine here at home and still take it with me on motorcycle trips. We initially wanted to go to a small town called Ban Jo Ba to do a farm stay. Just before town, I was in the lead, and rounded a corner followed by downhill S- curves. The curves surprised me and I hammered on the rear brakes to lose some speed before the turns. As I rounded the second corner, I looked in my mirror in time to see two scooters high-side in near perfect unison. I parked my bike and ran up the hill. Courtney and Natalie seemed to have come in a little fast and hit the brakes too hard, I think. Both girls were shaken, but uninjured. Natalie’s jacket seemed to have taken a good scrape on the shoulder but luckily, I think, she rolled on landing instead of taking the impact or skidding. Courtney’s bike needed another mirror adjustment and it was good to go, aside from the addition of a few extra scratches. Natalie’s bike also got a mirror tweak, and when I went to move it, the bike revved but didn’t go. It didn’t take long to see that the chain had come off the rear sprocket, sadly, it was hidden under a chain guard and my Leatherman wasn’t up to the task of removal. A local, who spoke no English, stopped his truck and took a look. He motioned for me to follow him, I jumped on my bike and we went into town. He stopped at a house and spoke to a man, he was on his step sitting like buddha in loose fitting and somewhat grubby exercise clothes, his long hair piled on and around his head. Shortly, he jumped up and drove off in a hurry on a scooter that had to be push started, had I not seen it running, I would have assumed it had been stripped for parts. When he returned, he had a little nylon duffel bag full of rusty wrenches, and I spotted a set of vice grips that had been ground flat like a spanner wrench (which strikes me a genius). He handed the bag to the man in the truck. We then went back up the hill to my companions. The man propped the bike on the stand, pulled the guard off, loosened the rear wheel, set the chain on, set the proper tension, and put it all back together. It was very impressive, the speed and confidence with which he did it. We gave him 1000baht palmed in a hand shake to thank him, it was all we had for cash that wasn’t buried in our bags. I then drove the two scooters up the hill as the girls didn’t feel confident doing so. We debated the merits of facing the hill again and decided against going down it. A consideration was that the town below didn’t appear to have much and having to come back up the hill in the rain felt a bit risky to them. As we got back on the road, the light rain turned into proper rain. Luckily, the next town was only about 15 minutes down the road. We went slow, dead slow. Everyone had a bit of a spook in them and I feared another accident could result in a refusal to get back on the bikes and we were far from home. In hindsight, I think all members had more grit and dedication than I was giving them credit for. The hotel was nice, but the man checking us in spoke no English so he just held the phone while someone else walked us through check in. William and Natalie went for supper, I walked to the local corner store and grabbed food for Courtney and I. Neither of us felt up to dinner out. I had been not feeling well and her spirits were low. It was an early night for us all. 

Cheap ponchos in the rain.

In the morning, considering the previous days events, I was relieved to find the weather was clear. We opted to skip breakfast and drive straight to Pai. We made it without incident and stopped for lunch. While waiting for food, I grabbed a Rubik’s cube off a nearby shelf in the café and solved it. I thought I was a big deal for that, Courtney then solved it much faster than I had. We didn’t waste much time in Pai, and I was thankful for that. Its hypocritical of me, but, that place is an absolute tourist trap and I hated it. It looked like a town the tourists were taking advantage of. Entitled foreign teens everywhere and in the way. Scooters flew by us with riders wearing little more than swim suits and clearly lacking skill and hoping blind arrogance would make up the difference. There was also no shortage of tourists with large bandages covering areas commonly afflicted with road rash after a crash. Outside of town and clear of its chaos, I started to feel pretty good on the winding road. Unfortunately, the girls were possibly still a little shaken and a bit slow on their much smaller scooters. I would race ahead, making full use of the street tires affixed to my dual sport bike, get my fill of thrill, and then sit and worry while they caught up. That must be how my mother feels every time I go somewhere. I didn’t mind, but my mind did wander to the idea of doing the trip again solo someday or even with more experienced riders on sportier bikes. Not worrying about others sounded nice, in that moment. We hit some rain towards the end of our ride, but nothing too severe. As we got into town, I missed a turn. Courtney offered to take over as navigator. I was glad to see her up to the task. Were I a better navigator, I may have done that on purpose (I am not a great navigator, and that was not a ploy, but I may use a ploy like that in the future). My bike read one bar of fuel remaining and we were stuck in Thai rush hour traffic. I once was lost in Aukland rush hour in a rental van with the fuel light on. That was far more stressful, I can push a bike and I wasn’t lost. I informed my companions of my low fuel and told them I was heading directly to the rental shop. When I pulled into the shop I was expecting a full white glove and magnifying glass inspection, but the woman barely looked up from the counter before giving me back my deposit. Honestly, I felt a little annoyed, I was mentally prepping for this all week, I was ready to defend myself with pictures of every scratch and scrape on that bike.

Courtney and I having a chat in traffic. Note, the orange bag is all of my luggage for the trip.

We went for supper at a very fancy, and empty, steak house. After the weeks of vegetarian Nepalese food and the various gas station and street food of the motorcycle trip, a big slab of meat was just what I wanted. So I treated myself to pork chops. Our trip was over and I was sad about it. All that was left to do over the next few days was for the others to return their bikes and for me to book flights for the next leg of my trip. The entire loop, I was worried about bike damage and had read some horror stories about insane charges and even scams involving the rental company stealing the bike from in front of your hotel, but ended up having no issues. The girls got a lot of their deposits back and weren’t charged much at all for damages. They inspected Will’s bike a lot, I guess he looks like the type to crash, but he kept it shiny side up the entire time and they gave him his full, deserved, deposit.  We had a few lunches and dinners together after that, but eventually all had to go our separate ways. Natalie caught a train and I got a plane. I was worried I had seen the last of my friends.

The crew. I miss them and I miss this trip. There will be other trips, hopefully they can be part of one of them someday.

Technical

The only technical thing I can think of, is that I made sure to pack light for this trip and that really paid off, I just had a small 20L dry sack and a 25L collapsible backpack and neither were full. The waterproofing ended up being a big savior. I really liked the jacket the rental agency lent me, it was from a company called Dianese, and I did try to find it in Canada but the model is out of production and was quite expensive when it was in production, so maybe someday I’ll buy the new model when I am feeling spendy. The Mae Hong Son Loop is famous for a few reasons and the twisty roads are a big part of that. I met a few people along the way who were on their second or third time on the loop and had done it decades ago before smart phones and GPS maps. I could definitely be talked into going back, and I would definitely try and talk this same group into going again. Another fun thing I did do on this trip that was perhaps a little silly, I would text my parents what hotel I was staying at so they could use google street view and satellite images to see the layout.

A big thank you to everyone I came across on this trip, the locals were always friendly, welcoming, and did their best to help tourists who had gotten themselves into trouble.

The jacket in question.

 


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Thailand Notes Part 2: Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son

Motorcycle fever had gripped me and made it easy for Natalie to talk me into the trip north to do a week long ride called The Mao Hong Son Loop. A very short version of this story found its way into Motocycle Mojo Magazine.

After much research, we rented our bikes from two different shops. Mine, from a larger shop that carried full size motorcycles with manual transmissions and the others rented scooters, Natalie and Willy rented “semi automatics” which were essentially clutch-less manuals. Courtney rented a true automatic. We agreed to pick up the bikes in the morning. That night we went to a very crowded street market, I felt very claustrophobic and was annoyed to see some of the items I bought at The Silk Factory in Bangkok were for sale for a fraction of what I paid. The food smelled delicious but I didn’t dare risk being sick the next morning. That night I also read up on common scams from rental agencies. The most predominant seemed to be trying to get you to pay for pre-existing damage.

When we got started the morning, I had brief moment of being everyone’s dad and somewhat forced everyone to get a full-face helmet. Thailand is littered with road-rashed tourists and I was hoping to not add to that demographic. All the rental shop helmets had some kind of damage on them ranging from scratches to full splits down the middle, which made for excellent visuals during my presentation. No one else seemed worried about that. We picked up the other’s bikes first, and Natalie was so uncomfortable, she asked me to drive the bike back to the hostel with her as a passenger. That was a nerve-wracking endeavor, she wore a helmet and I had a ballcap. It wasn’t rush hour, but there was definitely more traffic than I wanted to deal with. In my life, I have done some questionable things on motorized equipment, but that one made me the most nervous.

Once back at the hostel, I packed my bag, a 30L waterproof stuff sack, and picked up my bike. The only helmet they had that fit me, and had a visor in good enough shape to see through, had a big doobie on each side and “420” on the back. I found it funny but a little annoying. To avoid getting scammed, again, I took dozens of pictures of my rental bike and a video, when I left, the owner was well aware of every scratch. Once we all met up with our rides, we realized Courtney and I had the only bikes with phone mounts so I asked her to lead so I could bring up the rear. We were finally on the road at 3pm, which annoyed me greatly. Traffic out of the city was bad and Natalie was unfamiliar with bikes so her and I went slower than Will and Courtney. Somewhere deep in my memory, from an unknown source, was a belief that the most capable rider should bring up the rear. Sadly for our group, that was me, but I didn’t mind going slow and seeing the sights.

My Honda 300. I have almost purchased this same model at home several times.

The only thing of note on the highway was a very large reclining buddha statue on the side of the road. A ways out of the city, we got separated enough that Natalie and I stopped at a run down shop for water and to contact the others ahead of us. Natalie ordered the fried chicken, looking at the state of the place, she will never have to prover her bravery to me. Though it did look crisp. We regrouped but the park we wanted to drive through was closed, we detoured to the town of Hot, the name felt appropriate given the absolute heat of northern Thailand. Courtney picked a hostel for us, and it was an absolute winner. It was little two bed cabins, with attached bathrooms and AC for 400 baht each. Will and I shared a room and I mused at the thought that I was paying $8 cad a night. We walked along the street and found a vendor selling noodles, this was my first Thai street food experience. It had, I believe, pork and fish balls in it (though I am not sure what part of the fish is the ball and I intentionally don’t think about what part of the pork that is), it was good and filling and cost 40 baht ($1.60). We went back to the hotel and sat chatting in the girls’ cabin, the power had gone out and we debated how to pass the time. Someone suggested cards. With nothing better to do, I walked to the corner store and purchased a deck, not realizing they were 375 baht ($15!). They are nice cards, heavy waterproof plastic and in a nice case, but that still pretty steep. By the time I got back, the power was back on and no one was interested in cards now that we had TV and internet. I went to bed thinking about how much nicer the roads in Thailand were than the roads in Nepal. I was also somewhat grumpy about the heat and our late start, I reminded myself that I am on vacation and shouldn’t worry so much about clocks. 

We left Hot at the crack of noon. I was a bit frustrated to leave so late. From there we went on a very winding road and stopped at a temple but it wasn’t open to visitors. It was still interesting to drive up to it through the main gate and see the architecture. From there we went to Bo Kaio Pine Tree Garden. It was a nice forest walk, a smooth dirt track through well spaced conifers like we had driven through in Nepal. We also witnessed a bride and groom getting their photos taken. As we headed back to our bikes, it began to rain. We drove to a nearby restaurant and had dinner. It was chicken and rice on cheap plastic plates, and cups that didn’t look clean to me. I asked for the bathroom and got a lot of confusion and pointing and was eventually sent out back to an unlit outhouse with a squat toilet. The rain eased and we continued our trip.

I had seen so many temples that I dont know which one this is.
Frolicking in the pine woods.
Note the helmet. Natalie in background.

Unfortunately, the rain came back even stronger, we were thoroughly soaked by the time we found a roadside shelter to stop at. After a long wait, it became clear the rain wasn’t stopping and it was now getting dark out. We packed our gear as best we could to avoid damage to electronics. I put my phone in a bag in my pocket and let the mapping app guide me via my headphones, Courtney did the same. Within a mile of leaving our shelter, we passed an overturned semi truck. We slowly snaked around it, it served as a reminder that this was real and dangerous, up to this point, in my mind, it was just uncomfortable. We continued on, driving as a team. Courtney was leading and would give hand signals showing when to pass slow traffic and when to turn. It felt so coordinated, high stakes, and the quiet concentration made it feel somewhat clandestine. It felt like we were a team sneaking into town. Looking back, it reminded me of being a boy and playing soldiers with the neighborhood kids. The rain slowed and stopped as we came into town. The residual heat in the pavement dried the water off in minutes. The steam filled the air like a fog. It was the closest I had been to cool since I had entered the country (both temperature and otherwise). We wove through back roads to find a hotel Courtney had picked before we left. Unfortunately, it was hard to find and when we did get there, it was full. She quickly picked another and headed toward it. We rounded a corner and suddenly I was driving on a main road lined with vertical lights, there were hundreds, all about 4 feet tall, like a vertical fluorescent bulb. They lit the road in an interesting effect and the steam from the rain made it look like a dream or maybe a rave. I could have driven back and forth for hours. We got to our new hotel, a white stone building, we parked along the street and went in to check availability. The place had no guests and the woman at the front had to call the owner to come in. He was excited and rented us dorm beds and told us to bring our bikes in off the street. As we backed our bikes from the curb and pulled into the court yard, Natalie dropped hers. I think it was just a result of the low speed and perhaps tired from the days riding. I lifted it back up for her. We parked in the courtyard out front and he closed gate to the street. We all had showers and gave our wet clothes for laundry. I spent the evening in a long sleeve shirt, underpants, and a towel around my waist. I guess only a single pair of jeans wasn’t a great strategy, but at least they got a wash. We sat outside and ordered food from the attached restaurant. We ate a variety, mostly fried, and drank sodas. We stayed up late eating, drinking, and telling stories and I went to sleep happy. This was the best slumber party I had ever been to and the days riding in the rain was a real team building exercise. Before this we were friendly, after this we were friends.

Waiting under shelter during the rain. Myself (left), Natalie (middle), and Willy (right).
Our bikes parked in the courtyard.

I woke up feeling terribly ill. Likely a result of supper the night before. After several trips to the washroom, I dosed myself with anti-diarrhea meds and hoped for the best. I bought toast with jam from the restaurant attached to the hostel, it was outright nasty. The bread was yellow and had a sour tang to it, it reminded me of bread I had in Colombia years before. To me, it tasted like it was made with rancid butter, but that cant possibly be accurate. Throwing the bread in the trash, I forced down a granola bar that had been rattling around in my bag and we headed to a café to get breakfast for the others. After a rather lengthy ordering and eating process we hit the winding road again.

The ride was really getting exciting, these curves are what the trip is known for and Thailand’s climate allows for road surfaces to stay nice. Natalie and I stopped for gas and found an odd self serve station. It was a small pump, inset on a wall on the side of the street. I put the nozzle into my tank, loaded my cash in like a vending machine and hit the green button. Immediately the gas started flowing and a little tune played. I was glad I had the nozzle in already, the handle did nothing to stop or start the flow, that could have been a disaster. I declined lunch that day as I still was not well. We rolled into the city of Mao Hong Son around 6pm and had no rain that day. We checked into a nice hotel with a pool in the courtyard. Courney and I went for a swim while Will and Natalie sat by the pool. Somehow a joke came up about Natalie and I doing the lift from Dirty Dancing. We never actually got to try it, until a year later in Guatemala. After the pool we went off in search of food. I was positively starving, and Thai food was getting the best of me. I requested that we go for western food, and somehow the few places that sold it were all closed. I was getting very down and outright frustrated, I was in that stage of hunger where I no longer felt hungry, and just felt grumpy. We eventually found a little restaurant and I had some kind of spicy rice-based dish. It was good but I could barely eat it. I went back to the hotel long before the others and relaxed. Truth be told, I was having fun overall, but in that moment I just wasn’t feeling it. Luckily we still had a few more days of riding to enjoy so I didn’t have to end on that note.

A pond full of fish across the road from out hotel.

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Thailand Notes Part 1: Scammed in Bangkok and Cooked on a Train

I flew to Thailand with very little research and absolutely no guide book. Something I had never done before. This whole trip was a big whim and I had no idea what to expect, it was exciting and scary to think about.

Bangkok

I flew into Bangkok without a plan or clue. The hostel I had booked was dorm style, I wasn’t looking forward to shared accommodations, but private room prices were outright wild. In the airport an official scolded me for having an Ushuaia stamp in my passport she warned “this is for official stamps only” and waved me along. I had gotten the stamp at the tourist center in the town of Ushuaia in 2016 and no one said anything about it until now.  As I walked out of the airport, I was shocked by the heat, and the cleanliness, of the city. It was a long cab ride to the hostel and the entire time I marveled at the smooth roads. Going from the infrastructure of Nepal to that of Thailand felt like being hurled into the future, it was a bit of a shock.

The next day I could barely leave the hostel, the heat was so extreme. I would walk building to building, refreshing in the air conditioning. In my travels, I spotted a gun shop. I went to walk in to see how they compared to Canadas. Before I could get a single foot in the door, an old lady shooed me out. It was then I spotted the sign on the door “no tourists, no pictures”. I kept walking and suddenly discovered dozens of gun shops all with the same stickers and equally welcoming. I even saw a street vendor selling accessories, I thought some wood grips for my 1911 would be a neat souvenir but he wouldn’t even look at me, never mind sell to me. I laughed at the fact that I had officially been kicked out of a gun store. That evening, I went to Kao San Road and was thoroughly disgusted. It was a short walk from my hostel and it was everything Thailand had to offer sleazy tourists… bars, “massage” parlors, laughing gas, grilled alligator, knockoff clothes, and drugs. There were also old men walking around asking people if they wanted to see a “ping pong show” and making a popping noise with their mouths… I didn’t spend much time there, it wasn’t my scene. 

On my last day in Bangkok, I got scammed. I was walking around, bogged by the heat, and waiting for the streetlight to change so I could cross the road. A man said “in Thailand, we just cross, like this” and walked with me across the street. I thanked him and kept walking. He then kept pace and asked me about myself and what I was doing etc. He then claimed to be some sort of tourism board something or other and had suggested I see some temples and a silk factory. I said that sounded nice, and he wrote their names down. He also said the silk factory usually only exports but for a few days a year they do local sales.. I wasn’t interested in buying anything but I was curious how a silk factory worked. He told me most tuk tuks would take me for 100 baht to all 3. He then waved one down on the road and chatted with the driver, then turned to me and said “he will take you”. So I hopped in, thinking it was odd but some temples would be nice. The man drove like a maniac, I had no idea these little 3-wheelers could go so fast. We went to the first temple, The Happy Buddha Temple. It was small and somewhat unpopular, but I went in to see. There, a man was praying and started talking to me. He asked what I was up to, I told him and he said he really liked the silk factory, that it was where he bought his suits from for business trips. The driver took me to the next stop, the silk factory… instead of a factory tour, it was just a sales pitch, which wasn’t shocking, I figured they just had all the tuk tuk guys on some kind of consignment. I politely declined the salesman’s offer to have several custom suits made… Shockingly, I am not a suit guy, and I didn’t feel like stuffing 6 of them into my backpack. As I was leaving, he asked if I needed anything for gifts, I looked around and picked out a tie set for my brother and a silk kimono for my dad, he then said he could do a custom dress shirt for me since I was buying something. I said sure, I went with a dark green linen material in a long sleeve button up. The salesman asked for my hotel and said he would have them delivered that evening, all in I spent about $180 cad. Our next stop was a temple complex, beautifully built and maintained. I wandered the ground and took some pictures and was ready to leave.

The tuk tuk driver suggested a trip to the docks, he had a friend who could take me out on a boat, I declined because my stomach was upset and I had had enough heat. I went back to my hostel and relaxed. As 5pm approached, I went downstairs and asked the hostel staff if any parcels had come for me and then explained my day. The woman looked at me worried and said “how much did you give them?”… then proceeded to explain there are lots of scammers. I looked online and googled the shop, it turns out everything about that day was a setup, the man walking, the tuk tuk, the man at the temple, all of it. They also run another scam, which is they take you out on a boat and refuse to come back to land until you pay the driver off. It sounds like I almost got the boat scam too. Reading online, it looks like people were scammed into slightly over paying for suits, usually multiple suits. I guess its harder to get scammed when you are cheap. I had paid by credit card and was now hoping the salesman wouldn’t show up so I could just cancel the purchase… I also wondered if violence was the answer if or when the delivery guy got there, but they seemed to use a 3rd party delivery service. The items did arrive, and sure enough, the shirt fit, little short on the sleeves but the torso was long enough. I usually roll the sleeves anyway so it was a practical shirt and I paid about $90cad for it. I essentially got scammed into paying western prices for things. Later in my trip I found the tie set I had bought for $40 for about $5 at a night market… I got got, no doubt, but not for much, and its sure a funny story now. I still laugh at the idea of an elaborate four man setup just to rope me into paying $180. At this point I was more or less done with Bangkok.

The Heat Train

Natalie had reached out to me and suggested I meet her in Chiang Mai, in the north, to do the Mae Hong Son Loop with some travelers she had met there. When I first planned my trip to Nepal, I considered trying to get into India as well for some kind of train trip. The idea interested me but I just couldn’t make it work. So I was excited to get my chance at train travel. For this trip I had booked the train online, the website was in Thai and I used google translate, making sure to book a carriage “With Air”… Before departing I loaded up on various drinks and snacks from the local 7/11 and hoped for the best. I boarded in the early afternoon, I quickly learned that a car “with air” was not the same as one with air conditioning. In my seat, looking out the window I saw that it was bolted shut. The small ceiling fan did its best, but it was over 40 degrees outside. The landscape was beautiful, but it was sweltering in the car.

Old structures everywhere.

Initially the train was rather full and there was an American couple that staff had to walk back to their seats several times. They seemed to have trouble with the idea of assigned seating and eventually settled for leaving their bags unattended while wandering to seats they liked more. Over time, the train made stops and people got off. They were the lucky ones, to escape that sweltering heat. Around sunset, a well dressed man with white gloves came through and converted my seat, and the one facing it, into a bunk. Similar to a dining table in an RV being converted into a bed. He also put on a clean sheets, a pillow and a top sheet to be used as a blanket… in case I got cold. The bed was a little wider than me and a bit shorter, it had a fabric curtain I could close for privacy, but that blocked airflow. I tried to sleep but it was simply too hot.

Buddha statues everywhere.

Around midnight, I ran out of beverages. What little sleep I did get had bizarre fever dreams, I had dreams that my ex was texting me, when I came to, I checked my phone and couldn’t find them. When was the last time you saw a cellphone in a dream? Sweaty and confused and more than a little dehydrated.

I was leaning against the headboard during this photo.

The train arrived an hour and a half late, which was confusing to me, I can’t imagine it got lost or stuck in traffic. I stepped off the train into that, comparatively, cool 5am air and decided I wanted to walk. Prior to leaving Bangkok, I had asked Natalie to book me a bed at her hostel, she said she would, late in the night she had texted and told me she was not able to, “but it would be fine”. I was anxious about that, but it was morning now and there was nothing to do but head to her hostel and go from there. I talked to my dad on the phone while walking. When I passed an open McDonalds restaurant I hung up on him… I ordered a breakfast sandwich, a water, an orange juice, and an Iced tea. I took my time getting it all in, and felt thoroughly nauseous, I think I had mild heat stroke. My head felt foggy, I was weak, and my stomach was rather upset. Throwing some anti diarrhea meds down, I proceeded toward Natalie’s hostel. I arrived around 8am and sat in the waiting area reading my book until 10 am when she got up. I was rather annoyed by that, she knew when my train was coming in, I didn’t expect her to meet me at the station, but waking up at a more reasonable time just seems considerate. Mentioning it seemed like a bad idea, I correctly assumed my irritability was the dehydration and exhaustion. We walked together to a hostel our other would-be travel companions were staying at. It had proper AC and I got a private room with a small bed, but couldn’t check in until the evening. I put my bag in storage and went for a shower. The shower area had no AC and I struggled to peel off my sweat-soaked clothes. After the shower, I was still sweating so much I struggled to dry myself.  I was then introduced to William and Courtney, our travel companions for the trip. Even now I am not sure how Natalie found them, but I am glad she did. William was a Swedish man who had been living and working in Australia, throughout the trip I would find he was immune to stress or worry. I found myself envious of that. Courtney was from Chicago and was very sweet, her and I were very different politically and yet I still enjoyed all of my time with her. Of our group, I had the most motorcycle experience, which was minimal. I had my International Drivers Permit and a motorcycle license, Natalie and Courtney both had regular driver’s licenses, and William had nothing. I was far and away the most experienced on two wheels with my total of about 4 days of riding. I was immediately worried, but no one else was. 

Night Market in Chiang Mai.

Technical

There’s not much technical here beyond maybe read the guide book or google common scams in the country you are visiting otherwise you may end up with a funny story. Furthermore, always try to get clarity and never make assumptions about AC, beyond assuming it won’t be working. In south america I learned to ask “does the bus have AC? does it work? will it be turned on?” because sometimes the answer to those questions is no all the same.

Overheated, dehydrated, and delirious on that train, in my opinion, was probably the most dangerous part of this trip. I brought a lot to drink and I shudder to think what would have happened had I been less prepared. I’m also a little sad that my first and only real train ride experience was so terribly uncomfortable, I had been romanticizing the idea for years.


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Nepal Notes Part 9: Old Fashioned Nepal

If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.

After spending weeks in Pokhara doing not much of anything, I suddenly had a very busy week of seeing Chitwan and Bhaktapur, then hopping a plane to Bangkok. There were definitely a lot of things I was able to do and see in Nepal and yet every time I talked to a fellow traveler, I found out about something else. I think a person could easily spend months here just hiking and site seeing.

Bhaktapur

I had a few days left before my trip to Thailand so I decided to see Bhaktapur, an older outskirt of Kathmandu, famous for its architecture, temples, and a living goddess. I took the Nepali version of Uber and caught a half hour ride on the back of a scooter, while wearing my big backpack. Things like this are why I pack light. We found the neighborhood easily enough but my driver spoke no English and couldn’t find my hostel. Eventually he made some calls and someone came and found us. I was walked down a street, through a yard, a construction site, and down an alleyway to my new home… Hostel Swastik. And yes, their logo was a huge swastika. Glad it means something else there. The hostel was rough around the edges, but the staff were friendly. The man at the desk said he was friends with the owner of Planet Nomad, where I had spent so much of my time in Thamel. My room was outside of the hotel and the flimsy wood door opened directly onto an alleyway. I tired to shower but the water was cold and little more than a trickle. With my entire body tensed, I washed my hair, then went for a walk. I think I found the Nepal I was looking for, the one I had imagined in my head for years when someone talked about the far off land of Kathmandu. The architecture was what the guide book claimed it was and then some. Beautiful orange bricked buildings with hand carved wood accents lined every street. Every corner had some sort of shrine or temple. It felt like a person could spend a lifetime finding, documenting, and researching them all. Old public baths were everywhere, but they were all full of murky green water. They weren’t built with this many people and this much pollution in mind. Every doorway and window had hand carved details. Even dead end alleyways had some kind of statue or shrine at the end. It felt like the city had been there for thousands of years. The narrow streets kept most cars out so at times it felt untouched by modern man… then a scooter would fly by. It was also a relief to walk the streets and not see tourists and trinket sellers… or drug dealers.

Typical architecture in the city.

That night I did not sleep well as I had a rather strange incident. A man in the alleyway was yelling a lot and banging on a door across from mine. My belief, even at the time, was that he had gone out for a few drinks, locked himself out of his house, and was now trying to wake someone inside to let him in. That said, I wasn’t interested in taking chances. I quietly got out of bed, left the lights off, and silently moved the small table and chairs to block the door. It was a wood door with a dead bolt across, but I didn’t trust it, and I dont trust drunk strangers. My fear was he would get tired of fruitlessly banging on his door, and possibly try another. So, the simple solution was barricade the door without him seeing or hearing it happen so as to avoid drawing attention. Eventually the yelling stopped, I hope and assume someone let him in to bed. It was an odd incident and, in the grand scheme of things, shows just how safe Nepal is. This being the most worrying incident I had in regards to other people, and it was just a drunk man pounding on his own door.

Not the most welcoming sign to my western eyes, but the owner was very kind.

My only full day in Bhaktapur I went to the main square (also called Durbar Square) to see the sights. I was fast talked into hiring a guide for an unknown amount. I would later learn the price was $20usd AND I had to hear his sale pitch on art. The guide was good, he showed me around and had lots to say. I also got to see the Kumari. She is a living goddess, and very young girl, who is somehow the ideal beauty in Nepal. She occasionally comes to the window and stares at the crowd, it is said, if she smiles, it’s a bad omen. Photos are strictly forbidden. It was strange but fascinating. The guide also showed me several other small squares I would have never found on my own, it ended up being a full day of touring instead of just a quick walk to a square. I do think I over paid, but not by much. After my tour, the guide took me to his art studio to sell me some paintings, as with all art in Nepal, it was all religion based and wouldn’t fit in my backpack anyway. I took his card and promised that if I were to buy any art, it would be from him. Silently, I promised myself I would buy the first painting that didn’t have a god on it, just to support and encourage diversity in the art world.

Square from the top of temple stairs. Note how few people were there, and few appeared to be foreigners.
I cant help but think how nice these would be with clean water in them. Note the details, that is a snake in the center, and the ring around the edge is it’s body.
15th century carving called “The Peacock window” it is very famous and people sell a lot of replicas and merchandise based on it.

That night I asked about the movie room they had a poster for. It turned out to be a very old beat up projector that took some effort on their part to get connected to a barely running laptop. They had about half a dozen pirated movies on offer, the only one that stood out to me was Uncharted. I had played the video game series and had been thinking that Bhaktapur looked like something out of one the games… so it felt fitting. The theater room was large, the projection covered an entire wall, and I had the place to myself. For 50 rupees, I ordered a bowl of popcorn. On the floor cushions, I sat thinking… I have a bizarre knack for ending up in empty hostels and hotels. My ex and I once had most of the island Nananu-i-ra to ourselves, it was just us, alone at the hotel, and 5 Germans at a neighboring resort… It kind of felt like we were about to be hunted for sport. 

Thousands of hands have touched this statue over hundreds of years.

Back to Kathmandu

The follow day, I took a taxi to a hotel near the Kathmandu airport. I walked to the nearby aviation museum and did my best not to laugh at the small plastic scale models, similar to what I built as a kid. Some were more of the fantasy styles but rounded out the collection nicely. The entire museum was contained within a hollowed out jetliner, which was quite interesting. The day before my flight I walked to the Pashupatinath Temple, it was quite an experience. I was swarmed by trinket sellers and guides right at the gate. The entire place smelled like death, literally and figuratively… there were homeless people who had parts of themselves rotted off, my guess is gangrene infected injuries. Nepalis, in my few weeks experience, didnt strike me as thieves, but all the same, I opted to keep my phone in my pocket to prevent a snatch and grab. Having gone this long without a theft, I opted to not temp fate. The temple is also a common place for cremation and the wind was blowing from the pyres to the walkway I was on. The smoke choked me and burned my eyes a little, but mostly, I was grossed out by the idea of what was creating the smoke I was now breathing. Like all of Nepal, the architecture was nice and you could feel the history around you. With the smell, the crowd and being hounded by desperate sellers, I just didn’t stay long. I was ready to leave Nepal, and in the morning, I would. 

Kathmandu Aviation Museum.
Note the damaged model.
One of the few pictures I took of the temple complex. There were many of these small structures.

Technical

The shame, oh the shame. I was mistaken in my previous story when I had mentioned hiring a guide for a tour of old town… upon review of my notes, the guide was in Bhaktapur, that story has been edited and the information has been added to this story. My apologies.

I poked a little fun at the Kathmandu Aviation Museum. The truth is, the staff were friendly and doing their best, like many places, they are simply under funded.

With my illness and just how crowded the city was, I was hitting a mental wall and was glad to be leaving Nepal. I had a great time while there, and I think if I were to have stayed longer it would have been in my best interest to try to get into smaller surrounding towns or do another hike. For me, sitting around the city wears down on me quickly and the rough busses make exploration outside of the city a bit daunting. As I write this, I do miss Nepal, and have just texted my travel buddies to suggest we go back as I have just noticed I am missing a 500 rupee bank note that would complete my set… seems as good of an excuse as any to go back.

This is the final story of my Nepal series.. well of THIS Nepal series, maybe someday I’ll go back and have more to say. I did return after Thailand for a few days before flying home. It just worked out logistically to keep my original flights and fly round trip between Kathmandu and Thailand. All that is to say, Nepal was great, I highly recommend it… and next week I’ll have Part One of my Thailand adventure.

I was told this was the oldest Buddha Statue in Bhaktapur. It was hidden in a small room, in a building at the back of a square, at the end of an alley. I would have never found it on my own. I was glad to have seen the historic side of Nepal before I left.

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Nepal Notes Part 8: A Wild Tiger And A Life Changing Coin Toss

If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.

My two day motorcycle trip, part 7 of this saga, gave me a sufficient kick in the rump to get me moving. Despite still feeling the effects of my pneumonia, I was determined to get out of Pokhara, I had abruptly hit the wall for how long I could stay in that town. I had read about Chitwan National Park before my trip, but dismissed it under the assumption there wouldn’t be time, turns out there was time.

Chitwan National Park

The bus ride back to Kathmandu was 12 hours so I decided to break it up a bit by taking a detour to Chitwan National Park, its located south of and somewhat equidistant from Kathmandu and Pokhara. I was told the bus to Chitwan would be about 4 hours, it took 7.5. At the but station I was met by a man in a very rough pickup and taken to my hotel. It was hard to tell who was there to work and who was just a friend of the employees hanging out, nobody wore a uniform of any kind and everyone was just kind of hanging out. Also all of the men had short hair except for a small patch on the back left long, it was strange. It reminded me of my cousin who, in the 90s, had what we called “a rat tail”. I was fed a large, late, lunch and then was shown to my room. It was dated, dusty, and overall tired, but there were a lot of geckos around so that was nice, they look nice and keep the bugs down. Luckily they weren’t too noisy, sometimes geckos can make a barking noise that reminds me of a turkey yelp/cluck. With its thatched roof and wicker furniture, it reminded me of the budget hotels in Fiji. One strange thing that stood out to me at this hotel, the bed sheets only covered the top ¾ of the bed, meaning my feet were on bare mattress. It grossed me out, but I was so used to rough accommodation at that point, I just tucked the blanket under my feet. At about 4pm I was walked to a river front to take in the 630 sunset. We arrived at 415 in the blazing heat, after half an hour of standing on a concrete flood wall roasting in the sun, I decided to walk farther down the bank. At the end of the flood wall was a river front restaurant and beyond that were two locals riding elephants along the river. They saw me and wandered over, I took some pictures and patted one on the trunk. I had never seen an elephant up close like that. I wandered back to the restaurant and ordered a cold soda… it was now about 515… Finally, the sun set in a rather lackluster way and I was able to go back to the hotel. There were 4 other guests there, two couples and they said little more than hi to me. 

My first time petting an elephant.
Maybe the heat and my attitude made the sunset less enjoyable.

Morning of day two I was crammed into a dugout canoe. I was sat near the back on a square stool with 2 inch legs and someone was place ahead of me, and someone ahead of them and so on until we were just shy of a dozen. It felt like a back massage chain, but sweatier. 3 canoes took off around the same time and we all floated down the shallow river, occasionally bottoming out right under me… I was still not feeling great about my weight, before this trip I had never considered myself in shape, but I also never thought I was overweight. I definitely put some pounds on after the divorce, I just never realized it was this bad. My more pressing consideration was that we were spotting crocodiles from a boat where the gunwales sat 6 inches above the water. It felt low to me, and apparently I would make a well marbled snack. Along the way we also spotted a wide variety of exotic birds include some beautiful teal coloured King Fishers. The boats brought us to a steep bank where we all piled off. I was fortunate that I was the only person my guide was taking on the jungle trek. We were able to see monkeys, spotted deer, barking deer, and in the distance some Rhino. I was surprised at how quiet my guide could walk the jungle, he seemed impressed with me too, all those years of hunting whitetail deer seemed to pay off for me. I was glad it was just the two of us, in my experience, very few people actually know how to be quiet. Our jungle trek ended at an elephant breeding center. I didn’t love the elephant center. Initially it was just elephants chained to posts under simple shelters, like a farmer’s pole shed. As I learned more, I found out the elephants were trained to be used for patrols in the park and were walked twice daily. It wasn’t a life too far off from some horses, but it still didn’t sit well with me. 

Being loaded into dugout canoes.
Low and narrow, note the crocodile picture later.
Photo taken from boat.
Photo taken while walking.
Ranger tower(left side), just beyond were Rhinos.
A shed antler. Note, I did not find this, the guide had it to show guests. Shed hunting there probably would be fun.
Elephant shelters.
Staff feeding a young elephant.
Elephant skull at the information center.

In the afternoon I went on a jeep safari (I had the option of an elephant ride, and declined). I was loaded into the back with an American man, and a large, loud, Nepali family. We spotted a lot of wildlife but the preteen son kept trying to call the animals by yelling at them… It was a bit frustrating but also a bit funny. Our guide did his best to keep everyone quiet, and himself, used only a rock tapped against the metal bars on the jeep to communicate with the driver. It was a good system, were it not for my chatty companions. I also saw a wild peacock, and up until that moment, I had never thought about where they are native to, turns out they’re from Nepal and India area. They were just an animal that was around, like a loon in Canada. It was beautiful dark blue, high in a tree, and its long tail flowed gracefully as it jumped down and glided away. The jeep drove us to a Gharial hatching facility. It was about a dozen pools surrounded by chain link fence all full of little crocodiles. Its a good program, though not particularly photogenic. On our way out we passed some forest fires, at first it looked like small fires, but before long we were going fast down a dirt trail with flames on both sides and I thought I was at risk of losing eyebrow hair. It’s a strange feeling to be in nearly 40 degree heat and drive by a roaring fire, its like sticking your arm in the oven when its already just too hot outside.

Note, wildlife photography is really hard.
Driving through a forest fire.

At a military checkpoint, near the exit of the park, we crested a hill and saw, about 50 meters ahead, casually walking away, a tiger. The first thing that happened was the American grabbed the kid’s shoulder and pre-emptively hushed him. A much appreciated gesture. For about 15 seconds it walked down the dirt track without a care in the world, then turned left into the tall grass and wandered off into the wilderness. It looked thinner than I expected, to be honest, and its walk had more of a casual sway than the stealth walk my mind had imagined. It walked more like a domestic dog than a wild apex predator. Everyone in the jeep was glowing with excitement. The guide claimed he only has about 3 tiger sightings a year. I was skeptical about those numbers, he worked for tips and definitely wanted me to open my wallet a little farther, I did. When I got back to the hotel everyone there was exciting about it, wanted to hear the story, and made sure to remind me to mention it on my google review of the hotel. It was mentioned, along with the sheets.

A tiger in the wild. Sorry for poor quality, this is a screen grab from a video from a camera phone.
Rhinos. Note my camera phone was on maximum zoom.

The end of my action-packed day was to take in some cultural dancing in town. I was driven there in the box of a truck with a young couple that were a little better dressed than me. I was clearly in Nepal for the hiking, and they were there for the sights. It was a small theater with a broad stage and I was witness to some of the most impressive athletic dancing I had ever seen. In my youth I had witnessed Ukrainian dancing, French dancing, Powwow dancing, and breakdancing… none were quite on this level of both athleticism and team work. The first dance was a group of young men with staffs dancing and hammering them together, sometimes blind behind their heads, and doing it to make a melody. All I could imagine was a pinched finger. The ladies came on and did impressive dances with drums and twirls, then a man came on solo and spun fire in the dark. The fire spinning in the darkness with the hammering of drums felt like a trance, I was locked in and couldn’t look away. Towards the end there was a comical dance with two men, one dressed in traditional women’s attire who basically dodged the others romantic advances with twirls and jumps while the other tried to impress with dance moves, while closing the distance. Despite it not being in my original itinerary, I was glad to have made the trip south. I got some sleep, the next day was my bus to Kathmandu, and I could only imagine how long that would really take. 

Screenshot of video, note everyone is swinging quite hard.

Back to Kathmandu

The 4-hour bus ride to Kathmandu was, naturally, about 8 hours. The American from the jeep tour was on the bus with me, we decided to share a cab from the bus to our hotels. While waiting for luggage to be unloaded, a woman beggar tapped my arm and held her hand out. I was in no mood and had been desensitized to beggars by this point. She kept stepping in front of me and tugging on my luggage and then giving me a blank stare with her hand out. Somehow that stare just felt entitled to me, like she expected me to pay a tax. Finally, as she was blocked me from getting to the taxi, I faked left and rolled right, just like I used to in my basketball days. The American said he thought I was being attacked by bugs, I guess my technique has rusted over the years. The cab driver scolded her and explained to us that she is always there and it pays her better than a normal job. Checking into Planet Nomad hostel was much smoother this time, I had texted the owner directly, a few days prior, and she just told me what room would be mine and to let myself in whenever I arrived, easy, peasy.

Being given a tikka for luck as I left the hotel.

The following morning I started asking around about hiking Everest Basecamp. KTM airport was under construction and I was told I would have to take a 4-hour night-bus ride to a nearby airport then fly to Lukla. All in all it would cost me just over $2k USD, I could get it down a small amount without a guide, but not much. I thought about it for the day, I was still recovering from my pneumonia and had actually pulled a muscle in my chest causing some painful breathing. I didn’t have the heart for more frozen squat toilets and Nepali busses. I called my airline and asked about changing my flights to get home early, motorcycle fever still had me so I thought maybe I would buy a bike and tour around Canada. The customer service rep, without a laugh, told me to fly home early would cost me seven thousand dollars, the only available flights were first class. Naturally, I wasn’t about to do that. Natalie suggested I come to Thailand… over breakfast with her and some fellow travelers, I flipped a coin. Thailand it is. Within about an hour, I booked a round trip flight from Kathmandu to Thailand, it was cheaper than cancelling my flight home from Nepal. Natalie was headed to Thailand in a few days. Before she left, a bunch of us made friends with a Dutch girl and gave her all the hiking gear that we didn’t want to take with us on our next stop. Natalie gave her clothes, I gave her mitts, water tablets, and hiking poles. I burned a few days in Kathmandu, a few were spent just going for a walk to get food, much like Pokhara. Those days did make me feel a little guilty, like a fake traveler, hiding out in his hotel and venturing out to get western food. That said, one of the days I did wander to the old town part of Kathmandu, I took in a museum and the town square. It was called Durbar square, and I was mobbed by sellers and would-be tour guides, I also did some book shopping and found a few worth buying. In my wandering aimlessly about Thamel I also found an amazing burger place that sold buffalo burgers (water buffalo, not bison). In preparation for Thailand, I bought a cheap rubberized duffle bag and filled it with trinkets for my family as well as any gear I felt I wouldn’t need for the next leg of the trip. The hostel let me store it in their spare room. I put my information on a card in the top and plunked it in a dark corner, hoping I would see it again when I got back. My only real fear was losing my beloved sleeping bag, but I have a lot of trust in the Hostel owners and travelers dont usually steal as that just gives them more stuff to carry around. I had a few days before my flight to Thailand left, so I opted to have one more Nepal adventure, but that’s a story for next week.

Old town Kathmandu.
The best burger I have ever eaten.

Technical

There’s not much in this story for gear other than me being thankful I brought some shorts and my crocs. They came in very handy in the 30 to 40 degree Celsius (86f to 104f) heat.

The elephant breeding center was certainly a mixed bag of emotions, it felt cruel, but it was mostly just under funded. The animals appeared fed and in good health and this center did increase the elephant population, but it wasn’t a wild population so does it even count? The elephants were trained and used in anti poaching patrols so they were doing good. I suppose, like most things, its shades of grey rather than black and white.

The coin toss. I was debating toughing out Everest base camp, trying to get home early, or going to Thailand. I’m rarely one to gamble and usually only do anything AFTER a lot of research. It was out of character for me but a coin toss felt right and it ended up working out. I had a lot of fun in Thailand (you’ll see) and spending more time with Natalie, built our friendship and as a result, led to me gaining a few travel friends and ended up inspiring 3 trips so far and two more are in the planning stages, so I am calling that coin toss life changing in more of a butterfly effect kind of way.

Lastly, a bit of gloating or maybe therapy? I sometimes on this trip, on days I didn’t do much, felt a bit of a fraud. Like I wasn’t really having an adventure because anyone can fly to any country and just hide out in a hotel only venturing out for western style food… Upon writing and proof reading this story I realized that driving a jeep through an active forest fire in the jungle is barely a note, so maybe, just maybe… I should go a little easy on myself when I take a day or two off during a long trip. Also shoutout to my sister for telling me to be nicer to myself in my stories.

And if you ever find yourself in Kathmandu, I know a place for a good burger.


Posted in Hiking, Photo Drop, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , with 2 comments.

Nepal Notes Part 7: Motorcycle Trip

If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here. As always, questions and feedback are always appreciated, as is sharing my stories with your friends.

Before my trip, I looked online and had found a motorcycle club called “Hearts and Tears” in Pokhara that did tours. I had motorcycle fever since my divorce, and had the foresight to get my International Drivers Permit before leaving. This was what I needed to get out of my rut. I had looked for the physical location before, but wasn’t able to find it. Some locals pointed me to where they thought I should look and all I found was closed garage doors in an alleyway. Rita, of all people, told me she had found it. She had gotten stoned at breakfast and gotten lost getting back to her hostel and came across it. She walked me over, it was right where I was told, this time they were open. I went in and talked to the main guide, Prabin. I told him I was after just a day trip to get a feel for the bike, a Royal Enfield Himalayan, because that’s what I was thinking of buying back home. He suggested an overnight trip because he knew an interesting hotel that was a fun drive to get to. I exchanged numbers with him and agreed to go in two days time. 

The club house was very cool.
The Bullet 500 bikes they used to use.
The more appropriate dual sport and adventure bikes.

That afternoon, Natalie finished the Annapurna Circuit and met up with all of us at the Juicery, she also introduced me to her friend Renata (keen readers will note that Natalie and Renata have come to visit me here in Alberta and I have gone to Guatemala with them).

I asked Natalie if she wanted to come with me. At first, she said she wasn’t particularly interested, but later changed her mind. She also suggested that since we were leaving early the next morning, that she should just sleep in my room on the spare bed. I worried briefly if this was another case of someone using me for my generosity and what little money I had, but she paid her fair share of everything as a matter of her own principles.

The Bike Trip

As though the good lord has a sense of humour, Rita left town that morning, unfortunately she did so with a book I had lent her that I never got a chance to read. There was also an odd introspective moment for me the night before. I had known Rita was leaving but didn’t get a chance to say goodbye in person, Natalie asked me if I was sad about that… and I really wasn’t. I was ready for her to leave and for me to get out of my rut.  Natalie and I started our motorcycle trip and that morning was a real pivot for me on my trip, this is when my plans went out the window and I went off script. This is when I started to reflect, learn, and heal instead of pine and brood.  

We met our guide at the shop, he was 15 minutes late, but called to let us know he was late. We had loaded our gear into my little fifteen-liter day pack and strapped it to the back of my bike, I then put my water bottle in the tank bag. Prabin gave me a quick primer on Nepali driving: don’t trust signal lights, honk as you pass, and try not to stop. With that, we were off. The first challenge was following Prabin, who had Natalie as a passenger, down the narrow alleyway from the shop then through heavy morning traffic on roads that to my understanding, have no rules and no maintenance. It was absolute white-knuckle chaos at first, but then I fell into a groove. It was actually a bit intuitive, it felt like walking in a crowded area. Everyone was constantly watching and weaving around each other. The only hazard was stopping and interrupting traffic flow. My “no rules” theory was, somewhat, confirmed when we crossed a double solid line to blaze by two cops on a motorcycle who did little more than glance at us. Eventually we broke free of the city into the winding country roads along the edges of the steep foothills of the Himalayas. The roads were a variety of gravel, fine dirt, cobblestone, tarmac, and pavement. Most were in a state of disrepair. Tight switchback turns were the norm, which created blind corners that buses liked to take wide, I got in the habit of riding on the far edge of the road, and still had some close calls. 

Natalie was kind enough to take pictures while riding.
Note the hair sweated to my forehead that no one told me about.
Our first pit stop out of town.

We stopped for lunch at a roadside hotel and restaurant. The guide checked on the kitchen and then informed us they just made fresh Dal Baht. This was by far the best meal I had my entire trip. The chicken was crispy and spicy, but in a flavorful way. As we ate we watched music videos on the TV and Prabin translated the songs for us. Their music carried a much more wholesome atmosphere than what we seem to get in the west. Our next stop was the main draw of our trip, The Kushma suspension bridge. To my understanding it is the highest and longest in Nepal. I have a normal, healthy, fear of heights. I let the guide know, to which he replied “I can drive the bike across for you, if you like”. In this situation, despite the almost comical length of the bridge, my ego had more pull than my fears. I wasn’t going to let another man drive my bike across for me, especially in front of a girl. Yes, its that fragile. Prabin and Natalie crossed first, I was told to wait until they were all the way across before departing. When it came my turn, I took a deep breath and slowly released the clutch. Every cell in my body screamed in terror, but I wasn’t about to stop, and this was no place to lock up. I looked out at the valley and suddenly felt very high above the hand rails while seated on the bike. I had to make frequent stops and crowd to one side when pedestrians and I crossed paths. Somehow a motorcycle/pedestrian bridge felt like it shouldn’t exist, but I was the only one who seemed worried about it. The view was amazing, but staying upright on the slick steel bridge took all of my concentration as a novice rider. The crossing probably took less than a minute but felt like ten. 

Very long.
The people on the bridge give a nice sense of width.

On the far side of the bridge, we took a few minutes to rest and have some water, I did my best to hide my frayed nerves. While crossing I had passed an older woman carrying a large sack of potatoes loaded on her back and held on with a strap across her forehead. Me being a taller blond man, I stand out as a foreigner, this always leads to conversations, and this was no exception. Using Prabin as a translator she asked all about us and told us she was a proud mother of 8 and walks this bridge daily. A tuk-tuk taxi came to pick her up, and without a word or hesitation, Prabin grabbed the potatoes and loaded them for her. I already respected Prabin, but this little gesture told me a lot about him.

Immediately after the bridge, the road was beautiful smooth tarmac lined by spaced conifer trees. It felt like we had briefly left the country, I felt I was back in the Alberta foothills. Nepal is normally shrubs and rough roads. The last leg of our days ride was a return to the familiar rough roads, and a few water crossings that found my foot pegs well under water… on a public road, shared with buses. The only other time I had seen a bus cross water was in Iceland, and it looked a little more purpose built than the busses here. Towards the end of the day, the weather started to turn, we got rained on for a few minutes then hit with wind, which caused the dust and dirt to stick to us. Then with little notice, we took a right up a steep hill to a gate, honked, and were let into a large, well manicured, yard with a beautiful mansion on the far side, opposite the gate. The yard was amazing, and as soon as we entered, even the weather got better. It was like magic. 

Parked in front of the Hotel.
A well manicured yard, and a friendly dog.

We were introduced to the owner, Mick. He had worked in New York for years and had English better than mine. He told us the story of his hotel. His great grandfather, a colonel in the army, had built the huge house. Then, the family retained the property but moved away from it, for two generations it sat abandoned. Slowly it crumbled under the hard monsoon rains year after year. When Mick was ready to come home and retire, he restored it to a hotel. He replaced the roof and said the support beams, eroded by rain, had been cut so cleanly it looked like a saw had done it. The brick walls and dark wood furniture created an amazing atmosphere of old-world cozy relaxation. 

The halls had a warm feel to them and every surface looked comfortable.

We were shown to our room, a large room with two single beds and a fireplace. We had showers, got changed and relaxed on the front steps before supper. An old, decrepit, Land Rover in the back of the yard caught my eye. Mick said he belonged to his dad and he was going to fix it up someday. 

Our room felt more spacious than this photo depicts.
The “I’m going to fix it someday” field car appears to be universal among men.

For supper we were treated to barbequed chicken and a sweet desert. It was some sort of small donut like pastry, think donut hole or Timbit submerged in sweet syrup. I tried to thank our server in Nepali by saying “Dhanyabad” which came out close to “dandi-bad”. She gave a confused look, said something to Mick. Mick looked at me and said “she just asked if you were asking for Dal Bhat.” The table erupted with laughter as I tried to explain I was extremely full and was just trying to say thank you. I decided I best just stick to English. A testament to Nepalese hospitality, I do believe that woman probably would have whipped me up a batch if I were serious. 

The two days of motorcycling had the best food of my entire trip.
I believe this is called Gulab Jamun, and I know its delicious.

After supper we had long and fascinating conversation. It turns out Mick and Prabin had been friends for over a decade. The hotel was a regular stop on the way home for longer motorcycle trips that Prabin guides into Mustang and even Tibet. After a few drinks came the stories of rowdy Australians burning patio furniture and Americans making midnight beer runs into towns, that shut down at 4pm. They also told us of the time Prabin and a client got food poisoning on their way to Micks hotel. They were so sick they needed to go to the hospital but there was an election so travel was banned that day to prevent people voting multiple times. Mick was able to reach out to the local police and get a permission slip to travel, but only because it was a tourist that was sick.

Prabin sent me this picture of the hotel before the trip, I kind of didnt believe him at first.

It was a nice cultural experience to spend time with two locals giving their perspectives on politics and telling us the history of Nepal. Prabin told us he was a porter first, then a cook, and he saw how well the guides got paid so he learned English. He was a mountain guide for years but got injured and decided to switch to motorcycles, somehow, they are safer. I think that tells me more the dangers of mountains than the safety of bikes. The only flaw with the evening was treating myself to too many cups of milk tea. The caffeine and excitement meant I didn’t fall asleep until nearly 3am, I should have had the rum instead, but I had recently sworn off drinking. 

The following morning, I found myself a little green around the gills and not wanting to stray too far from a washroom. The reality was we had to get moving, so I swallowed a fist full of diarrhea meds and hoped for the best. The rumble of single cylinder engine was not ideal, but the distraction of the road and sights was a great help. As we passed through small towns, kids rushed out to wave and get high fives from us on our passing bikes. It struck me as odd because bikes are very common even in small towns in Nepal, maybe kids just don’t have much else to entertain themselves. I started to partake in the drive-by high fives… until… I stuck my left hand out for an enthusiastic young boy. As my hand made contact, he grabbed it. I pulled my left hand away from him and my right, on the handle bar, also pulled in. The bike swerved hard towards a parked car. I leaned hard left and saved it, but it definitely put a scare in me. In that moment, I had a quick thought about how far away a hospital is from here and how just how rough those hospitals had looked. The thought of getting loaded in the box of a stranger pickup and hauled across these roads for a few hours to an underfunded hospital send a chill down my spine. I gave my head a shake and carried on. 

Taken with my gopro when I thought I was in video mode.

We made a stop in the town of Baglung to see the Kalika Bhagwati Hindu Temple. We parked our bikes and Natalie and I made the walk in. It was a wide cobblestone path cut into the forest. At the end were rows of bells and large brick buildings with beautiful sculptures of animals. A local woman grabbed us and forced us to dance in a large group with her friends. I don’t think that was religious, I think she did that for entertainment purposes. We looked around a bit, made a donation and Natalie received a Tika (red dot on the forehead, I’m told it’s a blessing/ well wishes/ safe travels). I declined as I was worried it would smudge around in my helmet, I guess my loosening up has its limits. 

The walkway to the temple.

To my dismay and my companions’ entertainment, our next stop was for lunch at The Cliff. It is a resort that caters to adrenaline junkies with bungee jumping, sky walks, cliff-side swings, and all other sorts of fear inducing antics at heights. The catch was that we had to cross, on foot, another very high, and very long suspension bridge to get to the restaurant. This bridge had bungee jumping in the middle.  Prabin joked he would pay for my jump if I wanted to go… Some small part of me considered it, just to say I did. My hand over hand grip on the side rails of the bridge explains why I didn’t take him up on the offer. After lunch we made the short trip back to the club house.  I was sad it was over. I wish I had planned a three- or five-day trip instead but, my back was sore and my wallet was draining like there was a hole in the bottom. 

Since this trip my fear of heights has seemed to subside, Natalie and Renata visited me here in Alberta and we hiked Crypt lake and I had zero trouble with it, unlike when I did it 10 years ago and was white knuckling the cables and crawling up the rocks. When I told my therapist I was going to Nepal and was going to have to face my fear of heights, she tried to explain to me that I don’t have to face all my fears. She told me its perfectly OK to just avoid things you are afraid of, and I just couldn’t help but disagree with her on that one point. I think I needed to face that fear, I think I need to face a lot of fears. One by one, I am working on them. 

After getting back to Pokhara, I decided it was time, I had to get moving. I had planned on only spending a few days in Pokhara and then doing the Everest basecamp hike, I had, instead, spent nearly two weeks in a depressed confusing spiral of self discovery, all while on the mend for my pneumonia, which I still didn’t feel fully recovered from. I had to leave. I had to do something. It was time to get back to Kathmandu and get my trip back on track.

Technical

The motorcycle rental agency is called Hearts and Tears and if I ever win the lottery I will use that money to go on each and every trip they offer. Don’t tell my mom, but I am currently saving my pennies for their trip into Tibet, so if anyone wants to donate money to that cause… I am kidding, give money to charity, not people going on vacation.

The bike I rented was a Royal Enfield Himalayan 411cc. I did try to buy one when I got home, but the dealership in Vancouver that had them in stock was an absolute nightmare to deal with so I ended up buying a used Interceptor 650, lots of photos in my story here. It ended up being a smarter purchase, despite my soft spot for the Himalayan, it suffers from a lack of power that makes it less than ideal for the amount of highways we have here in Canada. That said, Royal Enfield Himalayans will always have a special place in my heart and someday when I spot a cheap one on the used market, it’ll be coming home with me.

My Interceptor 650

In the first photos you can see some older style bikes, Prabin had told me they used to run the 500s before the Himalayan went onto the market, they just dont hold up as well as the purpose built adventure bikes. He did offer to rent me one of the bullet 500s to take a drive around town, in hindsight I regret declining the offer, but I am a far better rider now than I was then, so it was probably smart to decline.

I did bring my gopro on the trip, but I am inexperienced with it and its a less user friendly older model. As a result the footage is not great, I have it on Youtube here. If you jump to 4:42 you can see the bridge crossing, and at 2:00 you can see one of my close calls with a bus on a switchback.

If you want to get a better idea of what riding in Nepal looks like, there is an organization called Rally For Rangers. It is a charity where individuals buy motorcycles and then drive them to be donated to park rangers around the world. I actually saw them in Kathmandu towards the end of my trip but I didnt connect the dots on who or what they were until I watched a documentary about them on Amazon Prime. I found the trailer for it on Youtube, I highly recommend it, its an interesting watch.


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Nepal Notes Part 6: A Tibetan Themed Birthday

If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.

At a café, half a block from my hotel, I ran into Linda on her last night before leaving. We shared a vegetarian pizza and a Sprite, for old time’s sake. Over dinner, I told her about my growing pains, she was polite, and non-judgmental. Likely wanting to change the subject, she told me all about a Tibetan cultural tour she had done. She really sold me on it and I decided I needed to do the tour. The next day, I found the tour office and booked. It was expensive, but I didn’t care, I needed an activity to get me out of my rut. Anytime something is expensive, I just remind myself how much I have wasted on other silly things and how much I save by not smoking cigarettes. 

Originally I had planned the tour for the day before my birthday, but it got delayed and it ended up being how I celebrated my birthday. A local man, the grandson of Tibetan refugees, took me, and 3 others on the tour. We took a taxi, I was comically big even in the front seat, the small Korean girl who sat behind me thought it was hilarious. She was also a bit thrown off by me opening and closing her door for her, is that not a thing in Korea? The guide took his motorcycle. He informed us that this was because he was not Nepali. Nepal gives citizenship based on paternal lines, ie: you can only be Nepali if you father is Nepali. This means that him, being a child of refugees, despite being born in Nepal, will never be a citizen. Non-citizens are not allowed to own businesses or “anything with 4 wheels” because having a vehicle lets you start a business as a taxi or delivery service. Its strange to think of so many people in a citizenship limbo for generations. Our first stop was a small Monastery where we were given a quick tour and a bit of Tibet history. Across the road was a rug factory. All the rugs were hand tied and had beautiful designs. I declined to purchase one as they were quite heavy and cost nearly $400. Our next stop was a Tibetan doctor. He checked my pulse and looked at my tongue then gave his diagnosis. Lower back pain, a stomach ache, and pneumonia. He told me my insides were cold and I needed more cooked foods. He also suggested exercise… point taken, Nepal. We had lunch at a Tibetan restaurant followed by a meet and greet with a monk. The monk was an interesting young man, I was surprised by how much freedom they actually had in their lives. He said simply “you are your own master and your own enemy” which was kind of reassuring. He also told us that he had joined the monastery when he was 7 years old and somewhat avoids going home to visit as he find he speaks a different language than his family. He didn’t say it, but I got the impression there are maybe some lifestyle differences, and how much could you have in common with people you only lived with until you were 7?

First monastery.
Prayer books.
Prayer wheels.
Hand made rug. Note, image has been rotated to show design.
Second monastery, where I met a monk.
A closer look at the statue in front.
Our tour group and the monk (center, obviously).

We then, went to yet another Monastery to take in the evening prayer. We were instructed to sit on the sides, do our best to be quiet, and take no pictures. At first it was a little slow, lots of chanting and singing from the young monks in the middle, kneeling at desks. An older monk carried up offerings from the locals and put them at the front near some pictures of recently deceased individuals. A white woman walked in, after prayer had started. She was wearing the typical yoga hippie trying to have a spiritual trip outfit. It was baggy yoga pants, a baggy linen shirt, fun blue framed glasses and hair that looks intentionally messy. That “its important to me that others know I don’t care” look. It’s the kind of person a lot of us loathe on sight. She wandered in, plopped down… sat for about a minute, then pulled out her phone and started taking pictures. A stout, bald, middle-aged monk, sat near the door, overseeing the prayer, waved at her and wagged his finger, we all speak that language. She looked confused, then kept taking pictures. He did it again. Then she went over to him and they spoke, I couldn’t hear but I can guess he told her not to take pictures. She sat back down for about one more minute, then got up and left. I rolled my eyes at her “I need to document my Eat, Pray, Love trip” attitude… I probably shouldn’t judge, I wrote all this about my trip. Once she left, the prayers got louder and faster, the gongs rang, and the horns blew. A strange auditory trick happened, the prayers sounded like small groups having conversations, then suddenly they would all fall into unison, then apart again. It was a fascinating and moving experience.

Inside before evening prayer started. Note butter sculpture on left side.
Statues made of butter (mostly), set on the altar for prayers.

After the prayer, we were taken to our final stop, a local’s house for snacks. We tried Tibetan butter tea (think of a soup broth pretending to be tea) and a barley porridge, which tasted like a blander oatmeal somehow. The real star was Tibetan bread, it was like a fluffier naan bread and was amazing with some jam on it. As we tried the foods we were told all about the current struggles of Tibet and His Holiness the Dali Llama. I won’t get into that here as that is several books that already exist, but it was interesting to hear the story from someone so close to it. A funny thing also happened on the tour, one of the people on the tour with me was a very sweet Italian man. As a show of thanks for letting us enter her home, he gave the home owner some Italian pasta and some white powder to be mixed with water to create the sauce. He gave our guide detailed instructions of how to cook it properly and he translated for the homeowner. It struck me as such a hilarious stereotype that, of course, an Italian would travel to another country and try to teach them how to cook. He was very nice and very well meaning, to be clear.

Tibetan tea.
Butter tea, very salty.
Barley porridge.

I went back to my hotel for a shower, it was 30 degrees outside that day and I had sweat through my shirt. It was still my birthday and Rita had texted me asking what I was up to. I told her I was going to get some cake, because it was my birthday. I was really starting to see a pattern with my diet and people commenting on my weight… Was it really getting THAT out of hand? I did just hike Annapurna!… barely, though… I guess. At any rate, she met me at The German Bakery and I had an underwhelming slice of dry cake and felt a little self conscious. We then walked to the end of the lakeside boardwalk and back and stopped at a Café near my hotel. I had an iced tea and some nachos that were so bad I, uncharacteristically, sent them back, they were replaced with bruschetta which was a little better. From there we went to Rita’s hostel and chatted with other guests in the common area about my tour. I then went back to my hotel and went to bed, unsure of how I felt about the day. 

I spent the next morning being a bit lazy, but in the afternoon I decided I wanted to rent a canoe. At the docks the prices were about $5 an hour and an extra dollar to hire someone to paddle for you. Having proud Canadian heritage I am a firm believer in “Paddle your own canoe”. It must have been a rare thing because people sure got excited to see me paddle that bulking boat. What they called a canoe was more of a narrow row boat. Heavy wood slabs just narrow enough to allow for a canoe style paddle to be used. The edge of the lake had dozens of them, sank to the bottom in less than 10 feet of water, I wondered if anyone ever tried to recover them and if it was heavy rain, tourists, or negligence that sank them. As I went along a lot of people waved and chatted with me. One man spotted my red hat with the Canadian flag on it, cheered and said “hey Canada! Looking good!…. smoke hash?” and gestured toward his mouth with his fingers. In his boat with him were two elderly Asian tourists laden with cameras… I chuckled at the thought of a boat-to-boat drug deal with witnesses snapping pictures. It was one of the few times in my life I wished I did do drugs. I declined and continued on, one thing about Nepali drug dealers, they’re very polite about rejection. After some miscommunication and confusion, I found Rita waiting for me at the shore. She was supposed to meet me at one of the docks but “got bored and went to use the bathroom and didn’t see her phone ringing” it struck me as a no accountability move. I paddled us around the lake for a few hours including a lap around a small but crowded temple on an island just off the main shoreline. It was a nice little outing in the sun. 

Note the smoke, there were several wildfires in the area during my time on Pokhara.
People getting to Tal Barahi Temple, a small Hindu temple on an island.

That evening we went to The Movie Garden. An open-air theater that played all kinds of movies. That night we watched The Grand Budapest Hotel. We ended up at The Juicery, again, and split two beers. I then called it a night and we went our separate ways. I decided that night I needed to do something to get out of here. The ladies at the local shop were starting to give me the local discount for bottled water. My “relationship” with Rita, for lack of a better word, was starting to annoy me. To be honest, I think I am better company than she is. I still don’t know what she wanted from me, but I felt a little used, like she just had nothing better to do than waste some time with a dork like me. Digging through the chambers of my memory, she does not seem to be the first woman that found me just tolerable enough to spend time with when no one else was available. Its an odd place to be in this world, like the bad fast-food of men. 

Movie Garden theater, one of my favorite things in town.

Technical

I did it on a whim, but I now believe a Tibetan cultural tour is a must-do activity if you ever find yourself in Nepal. The guide had also recommended a few books on the subject, the one I read was titled Buddha’s Warriors and it was quite good.

The brick of tea pictured earlier is actually how most tea used to come and still is sold in solid bricks in a lot of the world, we just dont see it much in the west so I thought it was interesting.

I found prayer wheels interesting and was happy to spin them, being told they bring good karma and/or good luck. The guide was kind enough to explain that in Buddhism you gain “merit” by saying and reading prayers (you also gain it by doing good things). The idea with prayer wheels is inside them are rolled up written prayers over and over, when you spin them you gain merit similar to reading or saying them. That said, it is important to spin them the right way, so as not to “read” them backwards. Below is a photo of what they look like inside. The guide opened it to show me. Despite my curious and tinkering nature, I would have never thought to pop the lid off one.

Inside of a prayer wheel.

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Nepal Notes Part 5: Totopani and Pokhara

If you are just coming into this, Part One is available here.

The hike was over, and I was still pretty rough around the edges. The trip had been taken for mental health reasons and my time in Pokhara was a little emotionally rocky, and a bit awkward to write about, but it happened and the next few stories were a time of real growth and recovery for me. Its a little weird, I am not super comfortable sharing it, but to gloss over it feels like a weird lie.

Totopani

The bus left Muktinath in the morning, David was on it, heading to Pokhara, I was headed to Totopani. Sick and tired, I wanted to rest at the hot springs, and Linda agreed to meet up with me at the hotel along her hike out. Also, I didn’t have the heart for a bus ride beyond 3 or 4 hours… In Nepali fashion, the 4-hour bus ride stretched out when we stopped at a military base and loaded it full of soldiers and gear which added a little over an hour. We then hit road construction that delayed us another two hours. The soldier beside me on the bus decided we were friends and added me on Facebook. He has since messaged me a lot with various business ideas, all of which seem to require my money. He doesn’t believe me that I have none, and I don’t believe he isn’t just trying to take my money. The hotel I finally arrived at was up a steep staircase, sans any kind of railing, on the face of a cliff above the hot springs. I was given a private hut with a queen-sized bed and a balcony that afforded me an amazing view of the mountains I had just hiked through. On the first night I had dinner with a German couple who politely looked down their noses when I told them my hike started at Chame instead of Besi Sahar. In the morning Linda met me and brought a Dutch friend. A very attractive blonde girl in her early 20s, she didn’t wear much in the hot springs and leaned in very close when she talked to me. Given our minimum 10-year age gap and me being aware of how I look, I attributed her flirtatious nature to a cultural difference and continued on with my life. The following morning, Linda and I caught the long bus ride into Pokhara and went our separate ways once we hit the city. I was sad my Annapurna adventure was over, but I was looking forward to a warm bed and warm showers. I checked myself into a budget hotel room, it was clean and I had two twin beds. My initial plan was to only stay for a few days. 

The landscape around Muktinath is interesting.
The military base we picked people up from.
Typical Nepal roads. Note, traffic flows both ways on this road.
Construction along the road.
The hotel grounds. Very different from the cold and snow I had hiked through just a day before.
View of the Himalayas from my balcony.

Pokhara

Pokhara is a strange town to say the least. Its Nepal’s main tourist town, it sits on the edge of a huge lake and has endless bars and restaurants. I found out that Rita was staying at the hostel across the street from my hotel. We met up the first day I got back. My first impression of her in Kathmandu was quite positive and I was rather taken by her charm and beauty. Rather quickly I learned that her and Pokhara were not good for me, like a curse, I just couldn’t leave. The first night there, we went out drinking at a bar called “The Juicery” it was a bar/café/restaurant/nightclub depending on time of day and half of it was open air. I bought us dinner and a few drinks, and things were pleasant enough at first. We were chatting and the live band was playing some wild instrumental psychedelic rock and I was drunk enough to appreciate the music reverberating in my bones. Into the evening, she became a gremlin, taking drinks off of other people’s tables, trying to be friends with everyone, and trying to get on stage with the band. There was one brief, odd, moment, where she leaned in and kissed me, it may as well have been a siren’s song. Unfortunately, what should have been a fun night out turned into me babysitting. I suddenly felt responsible for this train wreck and tried to get her from the bar back to her hostel. On the way she dragged me into another bar, a local’s bar, where she harassed patrons and helped herself to their hookahs on the tables. The locals were not as enthusiastic as she was, it was their bar and they didn’t like us there, not in a threatening way, in an awkward uncomfortable way. Eventually she got bored and we left. I got her back to her hostel and myself back to my hotel. The next day I felt like hell and she was nowhere to be found. I have a hard time with depression and drinking makes it worse. Something about waking up alone with a hangover just pushes me down a hole. Days later, she got ahold of me and I explained how out of hand she got, and she somewhat apologized.

Over the next week we had a few meals together, did a day hike, and saw some of the local temples… all on my money, which admittedly wasn’t much, but I still felt a little used, but my rural western upbringing won’t let me make women pay for things. She was somewhat flirty with me the entire time, in hind sight it seems manipulative but at the time it felt promising. 

Giant Shiva high above town.
View from a temple we hiked to.

Rita had mentioned she was making her way to Korea to teach English. The thought crossed my mind of going with her, it wouldn’t have taken much to pack my apartment into storage. She suggested it out loud saying it would be great to have a friend there. I wouldn’t be comfortable taking that jump with just a friend. The fact that I was considering this, even in passing, tells you just how much of a spin I was in. I think the altitude may have been effecting my brain still.

Just struck me as funny.
I did not go on any rides, but it was interesting to walk through.

We also did a hike to Australia Camp, a base camp of some sort for alpine teams. We… I, hired a local guide to take us. With my bad lung and cough, I was surprised how well I kept up with the guide and how much Rita struggled (remember this detail for later in the story). The sun was hot and the trail was mostly going up stairs. We eventually came to a settlement at the top of a hill with a little restaurant and tents that could be rented. We sat for a while and had some lunch. We spotted Himalayan Vultures and the guide told me that in Mustang, where he is from, the dead are chopped into pieces and priests use a big horn to call them in. The big vultures swoop in and take the pieces. 

The stairs along the Australia Camp hike.
Australia camp.
Fishtail Mountain seen on the Australia Camp hike.

One really fun activity I did was the Gurkha museum. Dedicated, of course, to the famous Gurkha soldiers. It was far enough away to justify a taxi but the entry fee was minimal. The displays were simple, primarily of uniforms and photos, but was still well worth seeing.

The Gurkha Museum.

In the days that followed, we went out drinking again, and it was another disaster. This time it was a DJ set at an outdoor lakeside bar, The Krazy Gecko. That night was worse than pneumonia in the alpine, if I had to choose between this and that night at High Camp, I would take sick and cold at High Camp every time. I bought us a few beers and she vanished into the crowd, then came back, introduced me to Micky, a very flamboyant gay man. He was friendly but was also hitting on me a lot and kept commenting that he wanted to find drugs. A while later, Rita grabbed my stomach and said “you have a cute face, but you need to start working out twice a day”. And that was more or less the end of my night. I was plenty drunk, and now plenty grumpy. I am well aware that I am a little doughy, and have been for most of my life, I didn’t need the reminder. There I was, sitting minding my own business, when Micky came by, gabbed my hand, and poured a dark brown liquid on the back of it near the base of my thumb. “do it, do it, do it!” he yelled. I had no idea what IT was… I looked at it, and him, long enough that he just grabbed my hand and licked it all off… I got up, washed my hands, and left. I was done. The next morning, I met Rita for breakfast and, for the second time, explained what she had done and said during an evening of drinking. She gave another half-hearted apology, that neither of us believed. I ordered a strawberry smoothie with my breakfast and was brought a huge glass mug full of pink ice cream. We both looked at it and neither said a word about it. I don’t recall touching it. I decided I was done drinking for the foreseeable future.

Technical

There’s no real gear or equipment to discuss in this story (though my crocs did come in super useful in the heat). This little blip above, was actually a span of nearly two weeks, it was longer than I was on the trail. It didn’t fit into the story but there were some days where all I did was sleep in, get some food, read my book, scroll social medial, get supper, and then go to bed. I was still quite sick and I had even developed a pain in one of my ribs from coughing so much. Part of the reason I stayed so long was that I didn’t feel well enough to take the long bus ride back to Kathmandu and I definitely didn’t feel up to doing my next planned hike. So I hid out in a cheap motel and told myself I was recovering, which is true, but it isn’t the entire truth.


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