Looking Back

It’s been a pleasure to photograph Asia, a wonderful discovery to film it, and an exasperating labor of love to write about it. I’ve toiled away not days but weeks in front of the keyboard to craft a record of my experience for my own personal satisfaction and your mild entertainment. At times this effort has been as easy as tying your shoes and at others as vexing as filing your taxes, so believe me when I say I’m ready to give the keys a rest. So how do I summarize an experience like this and put on a neat little bow on nine months’ worth of highs, lows, friends, dirty bathrooms, and memories? Simple, by looking back…

Blog This When I board that plane on Wednesday I will have filled well over two hundred pages worth of blathering nonsensical ramblings, so I begin this recap with a look back at some of my personal favorite and finest.

Planes, Trains, Automobiles…and Ships

• Shirtless, shoeless, salty, and sandy, with the turquoise Indonesian water not 100 steps away, I was in a very good place both physically and mentally while writing this.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/09/27/planes-trains-automobiles-and-ships/

Kiefer Sutherland, The Rolling Stones & Central Java

• This one just flowed off the fingers.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/10/04/kiefer-sutherland-the-rolling-stones-central-java/

Trans-Sumatran Highway: A Game of Inches

• I did my best to scribble down memorable quotes and key descriptors late into the night while the bus lurched from side to side. The notes were almost illegible but the write up was one of my favorites.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/10/12/trans-sumatran-highway-a-game-of-inches-sadily/

Day 51

• Of all the writing sessions I logged none matched the satisfaction I felt afterwards while walking home down an empty dirt street through the black Burmese night. I felt I descriptively nailed the experience in every sense and did complete justice to both the events and emotions. Perhaps my favorite of all.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/11/01/day-51/

Planes, Trucks, Bikes & Whiskey – An Epic 24 in Asia

• I was tired, it was late, and I was a good twenty minute bike ride from the closest computer, yet I knew I was in the perfect mindset to do the ‘Buddy Movie’ events justice. Writing about my Third World travels with a best mate until 2am was very easy that night.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/planes-trucks-bikes-whiskey-an-epic-24-in-asia/

From Prison to “The Beach’

• I scribbled out most of this on the ferry from Ko Lanta to Railay Beach in the company of the great trio: Devin, Jane, and Laura.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2009/11/29/from-prison-to-the-beach/

Southeast Asia on a Shoestring

• I knew my departure from Southeast Asia would mark a line in the sand. I knew India would be different from everything I’d experienced in SEA, and I wanted to bring closure to the region. It took hours of reflection and writing in a Khao San Rd café in Bangkok before I could comfortably put a stamp on the First Act and lower its curtain.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/01/25/southeast-asia-on-a-shoestring/

Holy #@!&ing &%(!

• Composed in two parts, the first from a window seat above the Bay of Bengal and the second from a gnarly hostel room I’d come to love. The emotional high I experienced come through loud and clear.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/01/28/holy-ing/

Pomp, Circumstance & Pakistan

• The settings in which I wrote drove the writings almost more than the events themselves. PC&P was composed on the roof top of a hotel at the foot of the snowcapped Indian Himalayas, as the sun sank into the flat Indian breadbasket below. The events I had to describe were as colorful as the setting in which I wrote them, and the words flowed.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/02/18/pomp-circumstance-pakistan/

Soul of India

• I labored with this one for awhile. My experience in Agra was exotic and romantic, almost spiritual in a sense, and I wanted to do more than just recount the events. I was eventually able to capture the way Agra magically checked off every Indian box.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/02/28/soul-of-india/

Morning Extractions

• Light on events but heavy on sentiment, ME was ultimately my homage to riding a motorbike across the subcontinent.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/02/28/morning-extractions/

An Everest of a Man

• Compelled to articulate the life of a great man I drew heavily from my father’s eulogy of his father, which he emailed me days after his death. If not for his passing I never would have visited Everest.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/03/07/an-everest-of-a-man/

Urumqi Surf Forecast: Flat

• From the comfort of the warm Islam Hotel, with nothing to do but wait from my Kazakh visa, I fondly recall doing my best to capture the logistical juggling act that was Urumqi. Islam Hotel: perhaps the best hotel value in all of Asia.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/04/17/ulumqi-surf-forecast-flat/

What I Learned About Russia Today (Part I)…

• Nervous as hell about Russia, after three days my fears had subsided and the legs did all the writing. I posted this at 2am from the subterranean internet lair of a pack of nerdy online Russian gamers, after which I enjoyed a surreal and satisfying walk home through the cold and empty Siberian streets of Tomsk.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/05/05/what-i-learned-about-russia-today-part-i%E2%80%A6/

With East In Mind

• Mongolian steppe. Enduro motorbikes. Four globe circling Swiss. Yes, yes & yes.
• https://indefinitewalkabout.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/with-east-in-mind/

.

Days & Dayz In case you haven’t realized by now I’m a bit of a meticulous and nerdy historian when it comes to travel detail, so the following should come as no surprise. Here’s what my three quarters in Asia look like:

-1		9/9/2009		Transit
0		9/10/2009		Transit		# Beds
1		9/11/2009		Seminak	Bali, Indonesia	1
2		9/12/2009		Seminak	Bali
3		9/13/2009		Seminak	Bali
4		9/14/2009		Seminak	Bali
5		9/15/2009		Seminak	Bali
6		9/16/2009		Seminak	Bali
7		9/17/2009		Seminak	Bali
8		9/18/2009		Ubud	Bali	2
9		9/19/2009		Ubud	Bali
10		9/20/2009		Ubud	Bali
11		9/21/2009		Ubud	Bali
12		9/22/2009		Ubud	Bali
13		9/23/2009		Gili Trawangan	Lombok	3
14		9/24/2009		Gili Trawangan	Lombok
15		9/25/2009		Gili Trawangan	Lombok
16		9/26/2009		Gili Trawangan	Lombok
17		9/27/2009		Gili Trawangan	Lombok
18		9/28/2009		Rinjani	Lombok
19		9/29/2009		Rinjani	Lombok
20		9/30/2009		Seminak	Bali
21		10/1/2009		Seminak	Bali
22		10/2/2009		Overnight Bus to Yogyakarta	Java
23		10/3/2009		Yogyakarta	Java	4
24		10/4/2009		Yogyakarta	Java
25		10/5/2009		Yogyakarta	Java
26		10/6/2009		Jakarta	Java	5
27		10/7/2009		Jakarta	Java
28		10/8/2009		Medan	Sumatra	6
29		10/9/2009		Danu Toba	Sumatra	7
30		10/10/2009		Danu Toba	Sumatra
31		10/11/2009		O.N. Bus to Bukittenggi	Sumatra
32		10/12/2009		Bukittenggi	Sumatra	8
33		10/13/2009		Bukittenggi	Sumatra
34		10/14/2009		O.N. Bus to Dumai	Indonesia (34)
35		10/15/2009		Singapore	Singapore	9
36		10/16/2009		Singapore	Singapore
37		10/17/2009		Singapore	Singapore
38		10/18/2009		Singapore	Singapore (4)
39		10/19/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia	10
40		10/20/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia
41		10/21/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia
42		10/22/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia
43		10/23/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia
44		10/24/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia
45		10/25/2009		Kuala Lumpur	Malaysia (7)
46		10/26/2009		Yangoon	Myanmar	11
47		10/27/2009		Yangoon	Myanmar
48		10/28/2009		Yangoon	Myanmar
49		10/29/2009		O.N. Bus to Bagan	Myanmar
50		10/30/2009		Bagan	Myanmar	12
51		10/31/2009		Bagan	Myanmar
52		11/1/2009		Bagan	Myanmar
53		11/2/2009		Mandalay	Myanmar	13
54		11/3/2009		Mandalay	Myanmar
55		11/4/2009		Mandalay	Myanmar
56		11/5/2009		Hsipaw	Myanmar	14
57		11/6/2009		Hsipaw	Myanmar
58		11/7/2009		Hsipaw	Myanmar
59		11/8/2009		Kalaw	Myanmar	15
60		11/9/2009		Kalaw	Myanmar
61		11/10/2009		On Foot to Inle	Myanmar
62		11/11/2009		On Foot to Inle	Myanmar
63		11/12/2009		Inle	Myanmar	16
64		11/13/2009		Inle	Myanmar
65		11/14/2009		Inle	Myanmar
66		11/15/2009		Inle	Myanmar
67		11/16/2009		Inle	Myanmar
68		11/17/2009		Kengtung	Myanmar	17
69		11/18/2009		Kengtung	Myanmar (24)
70		11/19/2009		Chiang Rai	Thailand	18
71		11/20/2009		Chiang Mai	Thailand	19
72		11/21/2009		Chiang Mai	Thailand
73		11/22/2009		Phuket	Thailand	20
74		11/23/2009		Phi Phi Don	Thailand	21
75		11/24/2009		Phi Phi Leh	Thailand	22
76		11/25/2009		Ko Lanta	Thailand	23
77		11/26/2009		Railay	Thailand	24
78		11/27/2009		Railay	Thailand	25
79		11/28/2009		Ko Pha Ngan	Thailand	26
80		11/29/2009		Ko Tao	Thailand	27
81		11/30/2009		Ko Tao	Thailand
82		12/1/2009		O.N. Bus to Bangkok	Thailand
83		12/2/2009		Bangkok	Thailand	28
84		12/3/2009		Bangkok	Thailand
85		12/4/2009		Bangkok	Thailand
86		12/5/2009		Bangkok	Thailand	29
87		12/6/2009		Bangkok	Thailand	30
88		12/7/2009		O.N. Train to Chiang Mai	Thailand	31
89		12/8/2009		Chiang Rai	Thailand (20)	32
90		12/9/2009		Pax Beng	Laos	33
91		12/10/2009		Luang Prabang	Laos	34
92		12/11/2009		Luang Prabang	Laos
93		12/12/2009		Luang Prabang	Laos
94		12/13/2009		Luang Prabang	Laos
95		12/14/2009		Vang Vieng	Laos	35
96		12/15/2009		Vang Vieng	Laos	36
97		12/16/2009		Vientiane	Laos	37
98		12/17/2009		Vientiane	Laos
99		12/18/2009		Vientiane	Laos (10)
100		12/19/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam	38
101		12/20/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam	39
102		12/21/2009		Halong Bay	Vietnam	40
103		12/22/2009		Halong Bay	Vietnam
104		12/23/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam	41
105		12/24/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam
106		12/25/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam
107		12/26/2009		Hanoi	Vietnam	42
108		12/27/2009		O.N. Train to Hue	Vietnam	43
109		12/28/2009		Hue	Vietnam	44
110		12/29/2009		Hoi An	Vietnam	45
111		12/30/2009		Hoi An	Vietnam	46
112		12/31/2009		Hoi An	Vietnam
113		1/1/2010		Hoi An	Vietnam
114		1/2/2010		Quy Nhon	Vietnam	47
115		1/3/2010		Quy Nhon	Vietnam
116		1/4/2010		Doc Let	Vietnam	48
117		1/5/2010		Doc Let	Vietnam
118		1/6/2010		Doc Let	Vietnam
119		1/7/2010		Doc Let	Vietnam
120		1/8/2010		O.N. Train to Saigon	Vietnam	49
121		1/9/2010		Saigon	Vietnam	50
122		1/10/2010		Saigon	Vietnam
123		1/11/2010		Saigon	Vietnam (24)
124		1/12/2010		Siem Reap	Cambodia	51
125		1/13/2010		Siem Reap	Cambodia
126		1/14/2010		Siem Reap	Cambodia
127		1/15/2010		Phnom Penh	Cambodia	52
128		1/16/2010		Phnom Penh	Cambodia
129		1/17/2010		Phnom Penh	Cambodia
130		1/18/2010		Phnom Penh	Cambodia (7)
131		1/19/2010		Bangkok	Thailand	53
132		1/20/2010		Bangkok	Thailand
133		1/21/2010		Bangkok	Thailand
134		1/22/2010		Bangkok	Thailand
135		1/23/2010		Bangkok	Thailand	54
136		1/24/2010		Bangkok	Thailand
137		1/25/2010		Bangkok	Thailand (7)
138		1/26/2010		Mumbai	India	55
139		1/27/2010		Mumbai	India
140		1/28/2010		Mumbai	India
141		1/29/2010		Mumbai	India
142		1/30/2010		Mumbai	India
143		1/31/2010		O.N. Train to Jaipur	India	56
144		2/1/2010		Jaipur	India	57
145		2/2/2010		Jaipur	India
146		2/3/2010		Jaipur	India
147		2/4/2010		Pushkar	India	58
148		2/5/2010		Pushkar	India
149		2/6/2010		Udaipur	India	59
150		2/7/2010		Udaipur	India
151		2/8/2010		Udaipur	India
152		2/9/2010		Jodhpur	India	60
153		2/10/2010		Jodhpur	India
154		2/11/2010		Jaisalmer	India	61
155		2/12/2010		Jaisalmer	India
156		2/13/2010		Jaisalmer	India
157		2/14/2010		O.N. Train to Jalandhar	India	62
158		2/15/2010		Amritsar	India	63
159		2/16/2010		Amritsar	India
160		2/17/2010		McLeod Ganj	India	64
161		2/18/2010		McLeod Ganj	India
162		2/19/2010		Mandi	India	65
163		2/20/2010		Chandigarh	India	66
164		2/21/2010		Delhi	India	67
165		2/22/2010		Delhi	India
166		2/23/2010		Delhi	India
167		2/24/2010		Agra	India	68
168		2/25/2010		Agra	India
169		2/26/2010		Kanpur	India	69
170		2/27/2010		Varanasi	India	70
171		2/28/2010		Varanasi	India
172		3/1/2010		Varanasi	India (35)
173		3/2/2010		Lumbini	Nepal	71
174		3/3/2010		Lumbini	Nepal
175		3/4/2010		Tansen	Nepal	72
176		3/5/2010		Pokhara	Nepal	73
177		3/6/2010		Pokhara	Nepal
178		3/7/2010		Pokhara	Nepal
179		3/8/2010		Jhinu (ABC)	Nepal	74
180		3/9/2010		Dovan (ABC)	Nepal	75
181		3/10/2010		MBC (ABC)	Nepal	76
182		3/11/2010		ABC (ABC)	Nepal	77
183		3/12/2010		Chhomrang (ABC)	Nepal	78
184		3/13/2010		Pokhara	Nepal	79
185		3/14/2010		Pokhara	Nepal
186		3/15/2010		Kathmandu	Nepal	80
187		3/16/2010		Kathmandu	Nepal
188		3/17/2010		Kathmandu	Nepal
189		3/18/2010		Kathmandu	Nepal	81
190		3/19/2010		Monjo (EBC)	Nepal	82
191		3/20/2010		Namche (EBC)	Nepal	83
192		3/21/2010		Pangboche (EBC)	Nepal	84
193		3/22/2010		Dingboche (EBC)	Nepal	85
194		3/23/2010		Thokla (EBC)	Nepal	86
195		3/24/2010		Gorak Shep (EBC)	Nepal	87
196		3/25/2010		Gorak Shep (EBC)	Nepal
197		3/26/2010		Namche (EBC)	Nepal	88
198		3/27/2010		Lukla (EBC)	Nepal	89
199		3/28/2010		O.N. Flight to Shanghai	Nepal (27)
200		3/29/2010		Shanghai	China	90
201		3/30/2010		Shanghai	China	91
202		3/31/2010		Shanghai	China
203		4/1/2010		Shanghai	China
204		4/2/2010		Shanghai	China
205		4/3/2010		Shanghai	China
206		4/4/2010		Shanghai	China
207		4/5/2010		O.N. Train to Xi’an	China	92
208		4/6/2010		Xi’an	China	93
209		4/7/2010		Mt. Hua	China	94
210		4/8/2010		Xi’an	China	95
211		4/9/2010		O.N. Train to Urumqi	China	96
212		4/10/2010		Ulumqi	China	97
213		4/11/2010		Ulumqi	China
214		4/12/2010		Ulumqi	China
215		4/13/2010		Ulumqi	China
216		4/14/2010		O.N. Bus to Almaty, KZ	China (17)	98
217		4/15/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan	99
218		4/16/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan
219		4/17/2010		O.N. Train to Taraz	Kazakhstan	100
220		4/18/2010		Sarykemer	Kazakhstan
221		4/19/2010		Skymkent	Kazakhstan	101
222		4/20/2010		Skymkent	Kazakhstan
223		4/21/2010		Zhabagly	Kazakhstan	102
224		4/22/2010		Zhabagly	Kazakhstan
225		4/23/2010		Zhabagly	Kazakhstan
226		4/24/2010		Turkistan	Kazakhstan	103
227		4/25/2010		O.N. Train to Almaty	Kazakhstan	104
228		4/26/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan	105
229		4/27/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan
230		4/28/2010		Bolshoe Lake	Kazakhstan	106
231		4/29/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan	107
232		4/30/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan
233		5/1/2010		Almaty	Kazakhstan
234		5/2/2010		Astana Airport	Kazakhstan (18)
235		5/3/2010		Tomsk	Russia	108
236		5/4/2010		Tomsk	Russia	109
237		5/5/2010		Tomsk	Russia
238		5/6/2010		O.N. Train to Barnaul	Russia	110
239		5/7/2010		Gorno Altaisk	Russia	111
240		5/8/2010		Onguday	Russia	112
241		5/9/2010		Chibit	Russia
242		5/10/2010		Kosh Agach	Russia (8)	113
243		5/11/2010		Olgii	Mongolia	114
244		5/12/2010		Olgii	Mongolia
245		5/13/2010		Khovd	Mongolia	115
246		5/14/2010		Khovd	Mongolia	116
247		5/15/2010		O.N. Van to Bayankhongor	Mongolia	117
248		5/16/2010		Bayankhongor	Mongolia	118
249		5/17/2010		Bayankhongor	Mongolia
250		5/18/2010		Arvaikheer	Mongolia	119
251		5/19/2010		Kharkhorin	Mongolia	120
252		5/20/2010		Kharkhorin	Mongolia	121
253		5/21/2010		Kharkhorin	Mongolia
254		5/22/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia	122
255		5/23/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia
256		5/24/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia
257		5/25/2010		Kharkhorin	Mongolia	123
258		5/26/2010		White Lake	Mongolia	124
259		5/27/2010		White Lake	Mongolia
260		5/28/2010		Battsengel	Mongolia	125
261		5/29/2010		Mongol Els	Mongolia	126
262		5/30/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia	127
263		5/31/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia
264		6/1/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia
265		6/2/2010		Ulanbaatar	Mongolia
266		6/3/2010		O.N. Train to Beijing	Mongolia (24)	128
267		6/4/2010		Beijing	China	129
268		6/5/2010		Beijing	China
269		6/6/2010		Beijing	China	130
270		6/7/2010		Beijing	China
271		6/8/2010		Beijing	China
272		6/9/2010		Beijing	China (6)	130

1	India	35
2	Indonesia	34
3	Thailand	27
3	Nepal	27
5	Myanmar	24
5	Vietnam	24
5	Mongolia	24
8	China	23
9	Kazakhstan	18
10	Laos	10
11	Russia	8
12	Malaysia	7
12	Cambodia	7
14	Singapore	4

.

Getting Around The navigation of fourteen countries in nine months required planning and patience, but most of all endurance. Asia is overflowing with creative means of moving people and I’ll be damned if I didn’t test just about every one: jets, prop planes, trains, tuk tuks, rickshaws, marshukas, sedans, trucks, buses, vans, SUVs, motorbikes, canoes, skiffs, ferries, junk boats, horses, Dutch Fokkers, and one Silver Tuna.

Flights (within Asia): 13

• Longest: Kathmandu to Shanghai
  • Give it up for the birthday flight.
• Shortest: Lombok to Bali (Indonesia)
  • A 777 for a 25 minute flight? Strange.
• Most Unforgettable: Kathmandu to Lukla (Nepal)
  • Prop plane. Himalayan airstrip. Yeah.
• Most Surreal: Heho to Kengtung (Myanmar)
  • Flying high over the prohibited eastern region (think opium production) while playing low-stakes blackjack with Lucius Polk for handfuls of Burmese kyat.

Trains: 12

• Longest: Ulaanbaatar to Beijing (31hours)
• Shortest: Yogyakarta to Jakarta (Indonesia)
  • The calm before the Jakarta storm.
• Most Unforgettable: Bikaner to Jalandhar (India)
  • Stuffing a 500lbs Royal Enfield motorbike into a packed freight car at 2am at an obscure railway station 70km from Pakistan.
• Most Forgettable: Xi’an to Urumqi (China)
  • Three words: Instant. Noodles. Slurping.

Boats: 7

• Longest: Bali to Gili Trawangan (Indonesia)
  • Two hour ferry ride across the calm blue Lombok Strait. So good to leave Bali.
• Shortest: Thailand to Laos
  • Two minute skiff ride across the murky brown Mekong.
• Most Unforgettable: Huay Xai to Luang Prabang (Laos)
  • Two day slow boat ride down the Mekong.
• Most Forgettable: Bali to Java (Indonesia)
  • A traumatizing claustrophobic ferry ride experienced with inside a locked bus.

Motorbikes (countries ridden): 8

• My love of the two wheels was born on the roads of Bali, Java, Sumatra, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam, but matured on those of India, Nepal, & Mongolia.

Anything Containing Three or More Wheels: too numerous & painful to count

One last time: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&oe=UTF8&start=0&num=200&msa=0&msid=113857108228539669434.000475cd617df8978ac81&z=3

.

Nine to Remember The only dependable constant in life is change, and perhaps nowhere is that change more constant and tangible than living on the road out of a bag. Change has come in many different forms to my experience: company and currency, language and latitude, faces and food, and through that change comes with it the ebb and flow of travel highs and travel lows and the eventual realization that your best or worst day is always just around the corner waiting to be discovered. That said here are the fifteen best and worst of my nine months:

Day 14 – Gili Trawangan, Indonesia

• The perfect Robinson Crusoe fantasy come true on a heavenly droplet of sand just under the Equator’s belt…somewhere in the Indonesian archipelago.

Day 51 – Bagan, Myanmar

• Touring the ancient temples of Bagan from the back of a local teenager’s motorbike before serving as honored guest at his family’s primitive dwelling for a traditional Burmese dinner by candlelight. It never got more authentic and real than this.

Day 68 – Kengtung, Myanmar

• Lucius and I relished two pickup trucks, two motorbike taxis, and three separate take-offs/landings during an epic travel day from Inle Lake to the heavily restricted Golden Triangle. The day ended by shaking hands with the police chief…from inside Kengtung police station. Male hijinks at their absolute finest.

Day 75 – Phi Phi Leh, Thailand

• Living the ultimate Southeast Asian backpacker beach fantasy with an overnight camping session on an empty “Beach.”

Day 91 – Luang Prabang, Laos

• Ascending the stairs in near darkness from the Mekong’s edge having just spent two long, slow days drifting down it, neither Meghan nor I could contain our excitement at the overwhelming beauty and serene charm of Southeast Asia’s most romantic locale.

Day 138 – Mumbai, India

• The day I awoke in Bangkok and fell asleep in Mumbai might be the day I’d choose if given the chance to relive just one. It had everything: crossing oceans, tears of joy, crippling sensory overload, and much more that will forever remain on tour.

Day 199 – Lukla, Nepal to Shanghai, China

• The emotional rollercoaster of events that transpired between when I awoke at the mountain airstrip of Lukla to when I fell asleep on a Shanghai-bound plane ultimately conspired to produce the best birthday present I could have received: a standby seat to China.

Day 220 – Sarykemer, Kazakhstan

• Where did the rabbit hole ultimately lead? To an unforgettable twenty-four hours of Kazakh hospitality alongside an Uzbek, Kazakh, Russian, and Afghan.

Day 250 – Arvaikheer, Mongolia

• Tagging along for a 230km slice of an around the world motorbike journey. The stuff of dreams. Well, at least my dreams.

Six to Forget

Day 31 – Overnight Bus to Bukittenggi, Indonesia

• The original long distance overnight ride from hell. There would be longer and more uncomfortable bus journeys, but you never forget your first.

Day 49 – Overnight Bus to Bagan, Myanmar

• Crowded, hot, and miserable. Fifteen hours complete with smelly feet in close proximity.

Day 71 – Chiang Mai, Thailand

• Coming off the travel high of Myanmar, the tourist-heavy landscape of northern Thailand made for a rude & unwelcoming transition.

Day 95 – Vang Vieng, Laos

• After four incredible days in Luang Prabang, Meghan and I suffered an agonizing five hour bus ride through the pot-holed roads of northern Laos only to arrive in ugly, hot, and tourist-manufactured Vang Vieng. Heighted stress on my part, ants in our room, and a Lao football loss to Malaysia in the Southeast Asian Game semifinals set the stage for a near altercation with a fiery hotel staff member. Perhaps the most forgettable day of them all.

Day 156 – Jaisalmer, India

• One jolly hotel owner and two bottles of military grade Royal Stag whiskey later, I’d find myself horizontally incapacitated for an entire day. Alcohol poison be damned! Day 156: the hangover of all Asian hangovers.

Day 247 – Overnight Van to Bayankhongor, Mongolia

• The ultimate long distance overnight ride from hell. 800kms. 30 hours. 200% occupancy.

.

Q & A

I’ll save myself some air and jump the gun on a few questions:

Favorite country?

• What I accomplished and experienced during my thirty five days in India (most in any one country) is ultimately impossible to top. I gotta say it really is !incredible India.

Easiest country to travel in?

• Got to go to Thailand. The tourist infrastructure and systems are so well established and in place you get the feeling you’re more cattle than tourist after awhile. Everyone speaks English and you can’t walk more than a kilometer in any one direction before running into a booking agent who can get you a flight/train/message/tour/ship/joint/room. All of which helps make Thailand my least favorite Southeast Asian country.

Hardest country to travel in?

• Got to go to China. For a people who count to ten on one hand, the Chinese can’t communicate in the most basic of universal sign language. Nothing is written in English and no one speaks it. Caution: China Ahead.

Best value?

• Got to go to India. No country packs in as many sites, sounds, & smells and delivers a more rewarding cultural punch than India. Despite its size it’s relatively easy to navigate the one-third of the country which most tourists visit, and no country tastes better and can accommodate you for as little. India delivers.

Worst value?

• It was more expensive to eat, drink, sleep, and travel in Russia than in any other Asian country (the solution: a Trans-Siberian railway journey). Also in the running is Kazakhstan. It’s not Russian expensive, but it’s not Chinese inexpensive either.

Return to first to?

• I would return first and foremost to central Asia, as the ‘Stans hold great appeal. Next would no doubt be Indonesia, as the warmth of its people coupled with the ability to completely lose yourself among its 10,000 islands makes for an unrivaled experienced in Asia. With enough time and means you could visit islands where no tourist has ever gone. That’s something special. Third, I would travel back to Vietnam. Incredible food, incredible history, incredible service, and incredibly cheap. Motorbiking through Vietnam definitely finds itself on the Bucket List.

Strangest food?

• Drinking horse milk in Kazakhstan only later to learn it was horse milk takes the cake over fried duck head. Sorry, no scorpions, spiders, or snakes.

Biggest Regret?

• No regrets but if I had to do it over again I’d have shaved off two weeks out of China and Mongolia and dipped in Uzbekistan.

Top 5 favorite countries (in order)?

• India, Myanmar, Kazakhstan, Indonesia, Vietnam.

.

If I had a nickel for every time I…

• Used my jacket as a pillow cover…
• Unzipped my camera case…
• Made a green handkerchief disappear for an Indonesian child…
• Unscrewed my malaria pill bottle…
• Retrieved my passport since I can’t for the life of me remember its ­nine-digit number…
• Listened to a Dutch, German, or Swiss traveler incorrectly say “make a picture” instead of “take a picture”…
• Listened to So Cool…
• Squeezed a clutch…
• Pointed to a stranger’s plate of food to order a meal…
• Was asked to pose for a photograph…
• Buckled my pack’s waist belt…
• Watched Fashion TV because it was the only English language program…
• Pressed on a bed mattress to inspect its give…
• Watched Inglorious Basterds (Inglorious Walkabout? Indefinite Basterd?)…
• Toggled to my phone’s calculator function…
• Placed a bottle of water on a sales counter…
• Slept in my jeans, just because…
• Recounted my in-country travel route for a local…
• Shook the unsanitary extended hand of someone I really didn’t want to…
• Incorrectly changed tense, inadvertently omitted a word/letter, or unnecessarily used a comma, semicolon, or parenthesis during the construction of these blogs…I’d have:
  • US Dollars: 664
  • Indonesian Rupiah: 6,144,313
  • Singapore Dollars: 930
  • Malaysian Ringgit: 2,192
  • Burmese Kyat: 664,250
  • Thai Baht: 21,920
  • Laos Kip: 5,526,560
  • Vietnamese Dong: 12,620,750
  • Cambodian Riel: 2,793,171
  • Indian Rupees: 31,220
  • Nepalese Rupees: 49,155
  • Chinese Yuan: 4,537
  • Kazakhstan Tenge: 96,981
  • Russian Roubles: 20,392
  • Mongolian Togrog: 919,986

.

Theft, Loss, & Health There were scores of ‘______ almost happened’ on this journey. I almost dumped my motorbike on a sandy road in Sumatra when I took my eyes off the road to look at a waving child and the front wheel went sideways (it was the closest I came to a vehicular accident in nine months). Almost. My film project was nearly compromised at the thieving hands of Thai scumbags had I not heeded the advice of an old lady who advised me not to leave any valuables in my bag during a five hour bus ride. Almost.  I almost slipped on a bathroom floor in India, which would have resulted in blood and a trip to an inadequate hospital. Almost.

There were countless occasions where the almost could easily have turned into a crippling disaster, but through good judgment, a lot of luck, and Pam O’Neil’s daily prayers I was thankfully able to avoid any serious hiccup. I’m proud to report my injury list as follows:

• Stolen: One bottle Listerine mouthwash (Thailand)
• Lost: One USB transfer cable/one pair socks (Mongolia), one t-shirt (China)
• Health:
  • Stomach viruses: 0
  • Head colds: 0
  • Fevers: 0
  • Bouts of diarrhea: 1 (Bangkok, Thailand)
  • Broken bones: 1 (left pinky toe – Jungle Beach, Thailand).

The Sum Total I learned more than a few things about the way the Asian world works and in the process a few things about myself, but at the end of the day it all boils down to seven lessons or truths:

• When all else fails the solution can be found at a fancy hotel.
• Asians don’t rock the boat, they avoid conflict at all costs.
• Mobile phone technology has penetrated every corner of the world.
• Asians hold hands. A lot.
• Sometimes you can’t put a price tag on the value of a hot shower.
• No one particularly cares for China.
• The naïve and curious innocence only found in children is universal the world over.

…my Asian experience in a nutshell.

Looking Through The Lens: IV

CHILDREN…

(Indonesia)

———

(Malaysia)

———

(Myanmar)

———

(Laos)

———

(India)

———

(Nepal)

———

(China)

———

(Kazakhstan)

———

(Mongolia)

BJ

I’m not sure I feel the same way about the rest of China but I absolutely love Beijing. There are countless Asian cities in which you just be, as there is little in the way of tourist attractions to see. Beijing, on the contrary, is a city in which you do. A trip to Beijing delivers the Oriental goods. First, there are the sites:

• There’s that little old infrastructure project that can’t be seen from space: The Great Wall
• There’s that small urban gathering space (OK, it’s the largest on the planet), where no less than 50 surveillance cameras monitor your every step. Tanks are allowed but bikes are off limits: Tiananmen Square
• There’s that modest piece of central real estate that happens to have been off limits to the world since before Columbus landed on San Salvador: The Forbidden City

There are the ever present reminders of China’s discipline and muscle: the legions of baby-faced young military men standing stone still at attention outside most every municipal building. There’s the technology. I can only recall three moments in which a visual stopped me dead in my tracks. Call them Wow Moments. First, watching an elephant split rush hour traffic in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Second, stumbling across the outdoor pool ‘hall’ in Olgii, Mongolia. Third, observing a digital ad projected from our moving subway train onto the concrete Beijing subway wall. Didn’t see that one coming. There is the food. Over the last three days I’ve downed steaming noodles, street dumplings, the most incredible duck on the planet, and loads of other delectable morsels. And that’s not getting into the various street snacks I could have enjoyed: scorpions, beetles, worms, and snake. Snake? Snake. A choice exchange from the Dong Hua Men night market last evening:

Me: What’s that on the stick?

Him: Lamb testicle.

Me: You got to be kidding me.

Him: How many would you like?

Me: None.

Him: OK, just one [as he reaches to grab a skewer].

Me: Stop!

Unlike the high-rise cityscape and commerce-centric feel of neighboring Shanghai, Beijing truly looks and feels like the historic and political beating heart of the country. It looks and feels like China at its finest, at its most mesmerizing, most ordered, most charming, most friendly, and most captivating. I’ve had more than a few moments standing still surrounded by hordes of tourists from the globe over, where I’ve truly felt at the center of the Asian universe. I feel like I’ve just tattooed North America for the first time and I’m ending in Washington, D.C. on the 4^th of July.

Early June in Beijing: simply fantastic.

———

It’s 10:32pm on Monday night on my 270^th day in Asia. I’m inside 48 hours and counting so here’s a question: How the hell am I and where the hell is my head at? To start I’ve had more than my share of Steve-O moments while wandering Beijing where everything kind of slows down, I slip into a momentary trance, and the gravity of what’s about to happen hits me…hard. At those moments I get that heavy sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind you get while watching your last sunset of the summer. It’s the feeling of ending.

I first experienced this sensation about a week ago in Ulaanbaatar while wandering among the thousands at the city’s largest market. Without warning I was overcome by a flood of emotions triggered by the realization that my world of Asian chaos was rapidly slipping away. I got choked up and hid a few tears behind my sunglasses as the river of human traffic swept me through my final market. That feeling of ending has reared its head numerous times here in Beijing over the last four days, but I don’t fight it because I’m ready and its time. For eight months, three weeks, and five days my world has been as different from yours as black from white, so there is no way I can prepare myself to leave Asia and simply slide back into America overnight. It’s just not going to happen. So I’ll savor what’s left over here, and play it by ear over there. I’ll savor the final dumpling, the final sunset, the final hostel bathroom, and most certainly the final tears. I’ll savor and smile, but the reality is I’ve been savoring for a long time now…eight months, three weeks, and five days to be exact.

Looking Through The Lens: III

FACES…

(Indonesia)

———

(Myanmar)

———

(Vietnam)

———

(India)

———

(Nepal)

———

(China)

———

(Kazakhstan)

———

(Russia)

———

(Mongolia)

Looking Through The Lens: II

NATURE…

(Indonesia)

———

(Myanmar)

———

(Thailand)

———

(Laos)

———

(Vietnam)

———

(India)

———

(Nepal)

———

(China)

———

(Kazakhstan)

———

(Russia)

———

(Mongolia)

Looking Through The Lens

I’ve taken a lot of film and a lot of stills. Here’s the first look over my shoulder.

SUN…

(Rise – Indonesia)

———

(Rise – Indonesia)

———

(Set – Myanmar)

———

(Set – Thailand)

———

(Set – Laos)

———

(Rise – Vietnam)

———

(Set – Cambodia)

———

(Set – India)

———

(Rise – India)

———

(Set – India)

———

(Set – Nepal)

———

(Rise – China)

———

(Set – Kazakhstan)

———

(Set – Kazakhstan)

———

(Set – Russia)

———

(Rise – Mongolia)

———

Urumqi Surf Forecast: Flat

Xinjiang: Not the China I Hate

Since Xinjiang and Urumqi little resemble the China of the east I’ve come to despise I thought I should put my eastern sentiments to rest before moving on. A few curious findings, observations, and annoyances from the Moon:

1. The Chinese may very well have manufactured the least masculine motorbike in Asia. Ultra efficient, ultra quiet and ultra boring. Like a silence Ninja fleet of two-wheeled Priuses.
2. The Chinese have a spitting disorder. No environment or setting (inside or out…day or night…breakfast, lunch, or dinner) is sparred the cacophony of phlegm-clearing eruptions and snot-filled expectorations. The sidewalks are literally a minefield. It’s foul.
3. The chomping noise that accompanies the average Chinaman’s food or beverage consumption is revolting. I’m not sure anyone in this country knows how to chew with their mouth closed. Seriously, it’s horrible. I’ve had perfectly adequate meals ruined because I couldn’t stop concentrating on the sound. Regardless if it’s instant noodles, dried fish, a tube of processed meat or doughy dumplings…the “Chinese Chomp” is reason enough to skip a visit.
4. With no verbal or written means of ascertaining the identity of a dumpling’s core contents, I’ve created the Dumpling Test. This consists of buying a single dumpling, which is essentially as absurd as buying a single buffalo wing back home, and taking a brave bite. Sometimes you win (pork) and sometimes you lose (unidentified fried jelly substance…might as well been jellyfish).
5. All taxis are metered. Thank God. One point China.
6. Overall the Chinese cuisine (including Urumqi) has been uninspiring at best. Maybe China and India could work out a deal? In exchange for teaching how to build decent roads, India could give China a lesson in food flavor. Flavor. There just isn’t any anywhere.
7. There are entire stores whose sole business is the sale of cigarettes. Think about that. Think about the various types of doughnuts you can buy at D&Ds. Now imagine each variation of the munchkin is a unique brand of domestically produced cancer stick. That’s a lot of brands. That’s a lot of smoke. This country may have no flavor but it’s all about Flavor Country.

Hard Sleeper to Urumqi

When the train finally left the station in Xi’an I dialed the time on my phone: 9:22am, Friday April 9^th. When it arrived in Urumqi I did the same: 12:57pm, Saturday April 10^th. Duration: Twenty-seven and a half hours. Now I know you probably just spit out your diet coke, but in all honesty it wasn’t that bad. By this point I’ve pretty well conditioned myself to deal with lack of space, invasion of privacy, and general discomfort. So what do you do during a twenty-seven train ride, other than block out the sixty-five other passengers in your train car? Not much. I slept a great deal. I wrote a bit. I drank a pop or two. Then I slept some more. To no surprise I was the lone westerner in the eight cars I had to cross to find the beer fountain. Interactions were limited, my dislike of China grew, and my ear plugs seldom came out. That’s about says it all.

The world out the window was an entirely different story. I woke up Saturday morning to find sand and desert mountains in every direction. We might as well been hugging Interstate 15 between L.A. and Vegas. A great feeling came over me as I stared out the window at those distant peaks. A feeling that I’d entered a whole new realm. This wasn’t China anymore. This was Xinjiang. The bordering neighbors weren’t familiar places like Nepal, India, and Vietnam. Instead they were Pakistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Russia, and Mongolia. I had entered a new world and it felt freaking exhilarating. I’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, since watching Ewan and Charlie ride through Kazakhstan to be exact.

Communication Vacuum

The travel Gods threw me an unexpected curveball just outside Urumqi. I had seen pictures of the developed skyline and knew the capital city of Xinjiang wasn’t going to be some redneck outpost. I knew the climate would be cold, but I wasn’t expecting to arrive into:

Upon exiting the railway terminal into a sideway snow storm, everything immediately felt different. In the best way. I was back off the grid and out in left field. I felt home. Not another westerner in sight, a disorganized taxi queue ahead, and snow coming down like mad. I took a deep cold breath and exhaled. I was pretty happy.

I knew communication in this corner of China was going to be near impossible so I employed a familiar tactic and showed my taxi driver the address of the nicest hotel in town, according to my three year old Lonely Planet. I hadn’t showered in two nights, my hair looked like a pot of spaghetti, and I wasn’t in the mood to crisscross the town hunting for value. More often than not a swarm of affordable hotels can be found within the very shadow of a city’s crown jewel. This couldn’t have been more true and timely then when I walked two blocks from the $100usd/night four star luxury tower and found my current home. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Islam Hotel:

(Look closely. Everything in Urumqi is written in both Arabic & Chinese. Just to make you feel even more out of place.)

It was in the lobby of the Islam Hotel I discovered the first real challenge to my planning session in Urumqi. The Chinese government has indefinitely suspended all internet service in the Xinjiang Autonomous Province following a bloody clash between Uighur and Han nationals in Urumqi that killed 184 in July 2009. I hadn’t done my homework and wasn’t aware of this not so insignificant fact. Five days without the internet. God forbid! But given my need to secure visas and transport to some seldom visited central Asian countries, loss of internet is more significant than you think. It meant I had to rely entirely on local information, local communication, and local human interaction. More on that later.

The second challenge was entirely my own fault. I got completely sidetracked in Shanghai by booze, food, and Gerard’s tomfoolery. The end result being I didn’t locate a Lonely Planet Central Asia guide as I had intended. I don’t know why I thought I could find one elsewhere, but sadly there isn’t a single bookstore in Xi’an or Urumqi that carries it…let alone an English text. Seriously, I haven’t laid eyes on an English language publication since Shanghai. I mean why the hell else would I be writing so much? I simply have no alternative.

Here’s a challenge for ya: With no real information on Kyrgyzstan or Kazakhstan, no guidebook, no internet, and the inability to meaningfully communicate with 99% of the population…research, plan,  secure, and execute visas and transportation to ‘Stan One, ‘Stan Two, or maybe both.

Along that line I had an epiphany the other day. While sitting in my third cab in as many hours running around Urumqi chasing down research leads, the followed lighting struck: It’s entirely possible I don’t actually enjoy traveling, as most people would define the term. And perhaps the only reason I’m continuing down this road is that “traveling” presents what I’m really interested in: a steady fix of increasingly challenging problems to solve, back-dropped by exotic locales. Just like sharks Mr. Walter, I like Third World problem solving. People might argue however that with enough money and time any person can navigate their way through a Third World travel obstacle. I would agree. The challenge and thrill for me though, is doing it on a budget and under time constraints. Two factors that make every decision accountable. Did I maximize value and did I maximize time efficiency? With that, an announcement…

On The Clock

I’ve kept my cards pretty close to my chest thus far. I’ve enjoyed keeping you in the dark and writing only enough to (hopefully) entice you back for another read. The reality is I’ve known for months and months where this Indefinite Walkabout was going to wander, and for the last month I’ve known precisely when it’s going to end. Like anyone who’s ever redeemed airline miles knows, you need to plan ahead. On March 15^th I sat in a hotel lobby in Kathmandu and phoned United Airlines over Skype. I had spoken to them ten days prior about availability from Beijing to Washington D.C. From that initial call the calendar was wide open and seats o’ plenty. That afternoon in Kathmandu the news however was quite different. My free flight home had suddenly been reduced to two options: mid-August out of Hong Kong or June 9^th out of Beijing. I’ll save you the guesswork. I land Wednesday afternoon at Dulles airport exactly 9 months to the day I left. Fitting, as Devin and I took off at 9am on 9/9/09.

As far back as Myanmar I put a bulls-eye on Mongolia in July. Sunsets at 11pm and empty grasslands to the horizon. I always envisioned ending this journey on horseback riding through a warm and green Mongolia and I’ll be damned if that’s not going to happen. Ever since that afternoon in Kathmandu I’ve been researching and strategizing how possibly to fit it all in. I may have been writing about the next week but I was always thinking about the next month (well, three to be exact).

So here it is…the whole shebang. If all goes well I pick up my Kazakhstan tourist visa tomorrow morning at 9am. I then board an overnight bus to Almaty, Kazakhstan’s largest city. In Almaty I immediately apply for a Russian tourist visa (a transit visa would serve my purpose but my application would have holes and be rejected). If I’m successful with Russia I’ll head north through Kazakhstan into the former Soviet Union, at which point I’ll bang a hard Rickey and have to choose between two open Russia – Mongolia borders. If I can’t secure a Russian visa in Almaty I’m essentially screwed. The reason being I’ll have no means of entering Mongolia without significant back tracking through China and likely a flight. Kazakhstan does not share a border with Mongolia and despite China’s lengthy border with its neighbor to the north, there is but one open crossing…all the way back near Beijing. It’s worth mentioning for clarity that Mongolia issues tourist visas to U.S. citizens upon arrival at all land borders (a rarity in the region).

At this moment I have 57 days left. Look at a map. Kazakhstan, southern Russia, and Mongolia. That’s a lot of ground to cover in two months, but it’s that very challenge that’s driving me. This Walkabout is now on the clock and as such I plan to squeeze every last desire, urge, and country out of it while I can. No more secrets. Anyone want to meet me in Mongolia in May? Still feel like reading?

Dress Rehearsal

I checked into the Islam Hotel in Urumqi around 3pm on Saturday. The afternoon was for eating and resting. Sunday morning I’d go to work. I needed to locate addresses for the Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan consulates and visit both to confirm the addresses were legit and business hours. Visa information and rules change like the weather, and despite having read that Kazakhstan could be done in two working days I wanted to be there front and center Monday morning when the doors opened up.

The small mountainous country of Kyrgyzstan was always my top priority given its proximity to the Chinese city of Kashgar and the fact its border crossing read straight from my Wish List. A remote and unsealed mountain road leads to Tourgart Pass, and a seldom used Kyrgyzstan – China border crossing. Chinese immigration is apparently fickle about tourists crossing, but recent message boards claimed it was very passable. I reasoned that if Kyrgyzstan took a full week to process I would get it first and land a Kazak visa in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan’s capital. The first step was finding the consulate.

There are five rotating people working the desk at the Islam Hotel. Only one speaks extremely broken English, but with patience and the use of visual aids she was able to make several calls and write down the supposed consulate addresses on little white slips of paper in Chinese characters. These little slips of paper have been my keys to the city. My floor is littered with them. After a day I started calling them something else though: clues. Sometimes the clues got you exactly where you wanted to go and sometimes they lead to another stranger giving you another slip of paper and another clue.

Sunday morning I handed the taxi driver a white slip and a hotel address. The Kyrgyzstan consulate was supposedly inside. As the ride dragged on I gazed out the window as the faces on the street morphed from Chinese to central Asian. Short, thin Chinese physiques were replaced by stocky, barrel-chested, strongmen. Skin complexion, hair, and eye color lightened. The shops and restaurant names changed as well. Chinese and Arabic characters were replaced by those funky inverted Russian letters familiar from any Tom Clancy film. I was in China still but it didn’t feel like China.

When I finally walked into the hotel lobby I got chills. Pure excitement. I was giddy. I felt like I could have been in Moscow from all the black leather jackets, gold teeth, and ascents. For the price of a two dollar taxi ride I had essentially jumped countries. It was an awesome moment and I knew immediately I was going to love central Asia. The hotel ended up being a dead end, but I walked out with another clue. This time it proved spot on. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the no-frills Kyrgyz Republic consulate in Urumqi:

After finding the Kazakhstan consulate later that day I went to work on transportation. Three options to Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. Planes, trains, and buses. That meant three trips to the airline agent, the train station, and bus station. Trust me, those little white slips begin adding up on the floor. In a place like Vietnam or Thailand or even India it wouldn’t take but twenty minutes to find a travel agent and aggregate the same information that took me six taxis and three hours.

CCTV

China has something like 40 government-run TV channels. Only one of them, Channel 5, is in English. Every thirty minutes a pompous and aging Brit, straight from the George Plimpton mold, regurgitates live the same news broadcast from thirty minutes earlier. Channel 5 is for all intents and purposes my only link to the outside world, and I’m pretty sure I owe it a thank you. On its Sunday night broadcast I learned that last Wednesday in the Kyrgyzstan capital of Bishkek, 81 people were shot and killed by military troops following a wave of violent civilian protests over government corruption. President Bakiev has fled the capital while an interim government has begun talks of reorganization. I figured in light of that news my mother would probably prefer I visited stable Kazakhstan instead…

Last thing on CCTV. The reported weather forecast for Xinjiang on Monday: “Sandy.” How great is that? Don’t forget your goggles today Honey, it’s going to be sandy.

Monday Morning Queue

There were over sixty people milling about in front of the Kazakhstan consulate in the freezing cold at 8:45am on Monday when my taxi dropped me off. I stood out just a little bit from the others in line. Two hours later a middle-aged German traveler and I walked out having set the process in motion. Pickup we were told was Wednesday morning.

Fingers crossed but tomorrow could be my final day in China. Oh please sweet Jesus let me get my visa to glorious Kazakhstan.

What’s Grosser Than Gross?

Street squid available in the city most furthest from an ocean:

Wow. Just wow. China. Skip it.

The Greatest Tale I Can Tell

How did I spend my 27 hour train ride from Xi’an to Ulumqi, China? By finally putting into words the greatest tale I can tell…

WARNING: If you’ve been in a long distance car ride with me during the last decade you may want to skip the following.

………

It was sometime in November of 2001, after the world had decidedly changed forever, when I found myself as far from Ground Zero on the globe as one can get without using a boat. It had taken me some twenty days but I had hitch hiked from the southwestern most tip of Australia to a tiny forgotten town called Kununurra in the northwestern corner of Oz. Hitching up the west coast of Australia is not as hard as it might sound. In fact it’s remarkably easy. There is but one road that stretches from Perth in the south to Darwin in the north (the same distance from New York to San Diego) and it has but two lanes. One heading north, one heading south. Like I said, easy.

When my temporary work visa expired in October, thus ending my illustrious career as an American Express credit card salesman in Perth, I bought a tent and a one-way bus ticket to a town called Augusta. Augusta, in the state of Western Australia, has the distinction as being the most southwestern settlement in the country. A thirty minute walk further south and further west from Augusta down a deserted road you come to a magnificent lighthouse at the very end of the continent called Cape Leeuwin. Its here you’ll find a small sign with four words and two arrows. The arrow pointing to the west is labeled Indian Ocean while the one pointing to the east reads Southern Ocean. With the confluence of two beautiful yet angry bodies of water before you, and the knowledge that Antarctica is the next solid landmass over the horizon, Cape Leeuwin lighthouse delivers a truly marvelous End-of-the-World feel.

The reason I digress here is that Cape Leeuwin holds a much greater significance than serving as the commencement point of my freeloading road tripping escapade. Its significant relevance to me (and in reality a large portion of you reading) was completely unknown when I strolled into the tiny lighthouse gift shop and found a news article hanging on the wall from….the Washington Post!?!? The Post had apparently sent one of their junior reporters on a mission to locate and write a piece on the antipode of the U.S. Capital Building. Every point on the globe has an antipode, a corresponding point you’d reach if you ran a perfect axis through the Earth. The two most famous antipodes: North Pole and South Pole. Make sense? As this junior scoop’s research revealed the antipode of the U.S. Capital Building is in fact a watery point several thousand miles off shore between Cape Leeuwin and Antarctica. This obscure geographic factoid thus gives Cape Leeuwin the distinct honor of being the further point on land from Washington, D.C. on which one can stand. Given that I grew up just up the road in Baltimore I quickly purchased a postcard, scribbled “I’ll never be further from home than I am right now…and it feels great!”, and dropped it in the mail to my parents. I share this as an intro to this story in case you ever want to get really far from home.

Some twenty days, thirty rides, and 3,300 kilometers later I found myself jumping out of shotgun from an oversized white pickup truck onto the streets of Kununurra in the northern Australian outback. To properly tell this tale I need to explain two things. First, a word on geography. The Australian outback as its most commonly thought of consists of the remote, empty, and arid interior of Australia. I’ve been there and its remote, empty, and bone dry. It’s also breathtaking, friendly, and home to one of the world’s strangest natural sights: Uluru (or Ayers Rock if you’re not an Aborigine). Western Australia, the country’s largest state, enjoys all these physical attributes. It’s empty, flat, and dry as a desert. There is however a strange geological anomaly in the northwest corner of the state known as the Kimberley region. In this far flung corner of Oz the land rises up into a Seuss-like mountain range (just Google “Bungle Bungle”) and the desert yields ever so slightly to allow greenery to flourish. I’ve often referred to the Kimberley as the outback of the outback. It’s as far from cosmopolitan Sydney as one can be both physically and culturally.

Second, a word on crocodiles. It’s in the Kimberley’s latitude, north of the Tropic of Capricorn, that you enter the realm of the Australian crocodile. There are two types of crocodilian living in the wetlands of northern Australia, the fresh water crocodile and the salt water crocodile. If you’ve ever seen a National Geographic special on Africa or an Indiana Jones movie, you’ve seen the salt water crocodile. It’s massive, powerful, and vicious, with a grill of teeth on par with Terrell Suggs or Sloth from The Goonies. “Salties,” as they are known, are the ones that snatch wildebeest from the river’s edge without warning and chomp the bad guys at the conclusion of Temple of Doom. Freshwater crocodiles on the other hand are the opposite of their notorious sibling. “Freshies” are smaller, have two symmetrical rows of teeth, and are surprisingly docile. If you don’t mess with a freshwater croc, you can assume it won’t mess with you. They are not aggressive and will mind their own business as long as you don’t provoke them or mess with their eggs. With that said we can begin…

In the Kimberley, and the far north of Australia, populated towns and settlements are few and far between. During the eight hours I spent in that white pickup truck getting to Kununurra I passed but two towns and two hotels. The next town I was hitching for after Kununurra was Darwin, a lazy 15 hours away. With such a great distance and unpredictable transportation to follow, I figured I’d hold up in Kununurra for a few days before setting off again. I found a hostel and set in for some downtime. Upon my arrival the hostel contained no more than a dozen guests at best, so it was with great surprise and pleasure when a tour group of some twenty internationals suddenly descended on my accommodations. The group had originally intended to traverse the Gibb River Road, a famous 4×4 dirt track that cut through the Kimberley, but recent rains and adverse conditions made the passage impossible. Suddenly my hostel was overflowing with activity as the tour organizers scrambled to formulate a plan for their disgruntled clients.

By early evening the organizers had their temporary solution. While waiting for conditions on the Gibb Road to improve the clients were presented the opportunity to spend the next day boating around nearby Lake Argyle and camp overnight on a remote island in its center. Transportation, accommodations, and food included. No one turned the offer down, and neither did I…for something like $20usd.

The following morning our group set off early for Lake Argyle. The ride lasted roughly an hour, the majority on a bumpy single lane dirty track. Where are we going? I was twenty-two at the time and pretty well versed at going with the flow, so I embraced my good fortune to be included in the spontaneous mini adventure. Big lake, strange people, overnight camping? Right up my alley.

Lake Argyle is the largest man-made lake in Australia, with its backwater and branches extending for kilometers. Landlocked and separated from the ocean by hundreds of miles, the lake is a freshwater body. The tiny barren islands that dot the interior are actually peaks of a submerged mountain range. We’re not talking about world class beauty here by any means, but the remote setting was terrific.

When our caravan arrived at the water’s edge we were greeted by a glistening white 75 foot motor yacht. This is what I’m talking about. The yacht, and the accompanying ten person pontoon boat, were owned and run by three local good-old-boys in their thirties (aka The Kimberley Boys). Their business was running tours on Lake Argyle, but from what I could gather business wasn’t exactly booming. Our itinerary for the day was to cruise the lake on the yacht and use the pontoon boat to access hard to reach waterfalls and hiking trails. With all aboard the music speakers quickly came to live, with the flow of alcohol not far behind.

Before pulling away from the dock our loose cannon captain announced that if anyone was interested in a swim, a jump from the third level sun deck was the best way to go. Myself and Jamie (a fisherman from Perth) quickly jumped on the idea and donned our swim trunks. As we were making our way outside I casually asked the captain, expecting a different answer, to confirm my belief that there were no crocodiles in the lake. To my shock and amazement however he replied instead that the lake was “teeming” with freshwater crocodiles, yet he stressed the safety of the situation and reassured me that the Kimberley Boys themselves routinely swam in the water. With that startling discovery in mind Jamie and I made our way to the sundeck and positioned ourselves precariously on the railing. Below was the greenest, murkiest water I’d ever seen. SPLASH!

We were in. In short time Jamie proposed a contest. We would both swim straight down into the murky depths and the first to turn around would lose. I of course accepted and after taking deep breaths we both sank like stones head first. Within a few kicks, the sun’s light near completely gone in the green world, we both panicked and made for the surface. It was too much. It was too scary. And with the knowledge that somewhere in that green realm lurked supposedly friendly crocodiles, we both lost our nerve and quickly scampered back onto the boat’s deck.

The late morning and afternoon played out as promoted. We sunned, we hiked, we swam under a waterfall. Nearing dusk we made our way to the tiny treeless island we’d call home that night. As dinner was being prepared Jamie and I descended down a rock staircase to the water’s edge. Jamie wanted to throw a line in the water and try his luck. By this point nightfall was well upon us and the assistance of a flashlight was necessary. After several minutes of unsuccessful casting we lost patience and went for a stroll. Within minutes Jamie’s light landed on sometime strange up ahead. When we arrived we were amazed to discover the severed and rotting head of a large male crocodile. With the sale of croc skins normal business in Australia, the discovery made sense to us, but all the sense in the world couldn’t reduce our shock at the size of the head. After all, we’d be swimming in the water.

We quickly went to work trying to extract a souvenir tooth. At this very moment one of the Kimberley Boys, named Ryan, arrived on the scene. He quickly went into a lecture on respecting the creature and instructed us to leave the head be. His words became ironic as the evening unfolded. After Ryan left we went back to work and were able to extract a shapely and well preserved tooth, which I carefully placed in my pocket. With that we rejoined the group.

With dinner over and the camp fire roaring the three Kimberley Boys presented an unexpected opportunity on the group. “Who would like to wrestle a live crocodile tonight?” In my twenty-two year old, fear nothing, go-with-the-flow mentality I quickly raised my hand without needing further details. Details did follow though as the Boys explained that their version of crocodile wrestling included stripping naked and covering oneself in Aboriginal paint. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the absurdity, but I figured When in Rome (as said in the voice of R. Burgundy). I apparently wasn’t the only one intrigued by this idea and in no time, guys and gals alike, started losing articles. A truly ridiculous spectacle ensued, aided in no small part by a few cocktails, as complete strangers began applying brown, yellow, and white okra (a ceremonious Aboriginal paint) to one another’s naked bodies. Don’t get me wrong this wasn’t a scene from Caligula or anything, but it was overly surreal with male and female anatomy on full display in the firelight. As the pontoon boat was only large enough to handle roughly ten people, it was announced that more than one trip would be needed. After naturally securing a spot in the wave, I descended the staircase to the waterline. As our group motored away from the tiny island it occurred to me we hadn’t received a single word of information or instruction on what was to follow.

Within a few minutes we were out of sight of the island lights and engulfed in blackness. Just when it would have been appropriate to ask What Now? one of the Boys flicked on a high powered flashlight and brought it to the horizon. The vivid image that appeared is one I’ll never forget. Staring back at us was the light’s reflection as reflected in the red eyes of what seemed like hundreds of freshwater crocodiles. Apparently the lights reflection could be seen up to 0.5km away in the reptile eyes. Talk about an eerie sight. Endless pairs of stationary dinosaur eyes beaming back at you. A most unsettling visual given the fact Jamie and I had voluntarily placed ourselves in their world only hours earlier. What was to happen next was anyone’s guess.

The boat began motoring towards the closest pair of eyes. When we pulled up alongside the eyes dropped below the waterline and our first croc disappeared from sight. Strike one. The Kimberley Boy at the wheel turned the boat and headed off towards the next pair. When we pulled up alongside our second croc Ryan, the other Kimberly Boy on the boat, reached overboard and scooped up a foot long baby croc much to the excitement of the female contingent on board. Following a few minutes of Pass-The-Croc Ryan dumped our catch overboard and we headed off again. In no time we found ourselves approaching our third pair of eyes. I took it to mean we were in business when the captain let out an Ooooooh, as he slowed the boat to a crawl. Our third croc was roughly three feet long and perfectly stationary as we inched to within eight feet of it.

Suddenly, without announcement or warning, Ryan dove naked from the bow of the boat hands first into the water. The unexpected explosion of action and water startled everyone. Within seconds Ryan reemerged from the waist deep water holding his prize, head high, with his right arm. In one swift motion he had dove from the boat and using both hands grabbed the neck of the unsuspecting croc. Now, standing upright, Ryan held the crocodile firmly around the neck with one hand as the croc aggressively snapped its jaws and haphazardly threw its head from side to side. Everyone onboard was taken aback by the demonstration and fixated on Ryan as he stood firm. But something wasn’t right. The look on Ryan’s face wasn’t quite right. And then, without warning, blood began to run down Ryan’s neck…

What no one onboard had been able to see was that when Ryan leapt into the water with his upper body leading, he landed not only on the croc but a submerged stick. That fateful stick had entered his throat and punctured his windpipe. So here is this naked painted man standing in waist deep water holding a meter long crocodile by the neck with a ghostly pale look on his face and blood now beginning to stream down his throat and onto his chest. The feeling and atmosphere on the boat rightfully changed instantly from pleasure cruise to life or death situation. The captain immediately jumped overboard, threw the croc, and managed to pull Ryan back to the boat. We pulled him onto the deck and propped him upright on a bench seat. His eyes were open but he was non-communicative. He quickly began uncontrollably vomiting blood onto the pristine white deck floor. With that you’ve never seen people lose their sh*t so quickly. The women onboard retreated as far away as the boat’s surface area allowed. The men just stood in shock. No one knew what to do. How could you?

When you’re traveling in a remote and captivating place like Australia, let alone the outback, you tend not to appreciate just how far removed from relative civilization you in fact are. I certainly hadn’t up until that moment when my mind began rapidly assessing the scene before me. Here was a man in a clear life or death situation who without serious and timely medical attention was likely going to die. Then you look around and it hits you. The real severity of the situation lay in our surroundings. Here we are on a tiny boat in the middle of a massive lake, some 5km from the dock where we began. That dock a good hour from the closest town. And backwater Kununurra having limited medical facilities at best. It all hit me quickly. This was bad. Real bad.

I thankfully had never been faced with a situation like that before in my life, so I had no idea how I’d react. I’d never had a real Fight or Flight moment until then. It was strange. The initial reaction of most everyone on board was to flee. Flight. My instant reaction, after we had Ryan seated, was to put my hand on his throat and stop the bleeding. Fight. I’m by no means trying to make myself out to be something I’m not, simply telling the story how it happened and how I remember. There happened to be an Australian nurse on board, rather buxom too as I recall, who quickly pushed me aside and took over. As this was going down the captain gunned the boat in the direction of the island and camp. Within a minute or two, having arrived back at the island waterline, the captain ordered everyone to get off. You’ve never seen women disembark a vessel so fast. Men too. I had already made up my mind I wasn’t going anywhere. I was fairly fit at the time and figured at the very least I could add some value down the line when it came time to move this large and incapacitated man. Whatever was going to happen that night I committed myself to see it through.

With that the captain gunned the throttle and bombed us across the lake at top speed. At this point the characters included the captain, Ryan, the nurse, an Israeli, and myself. With the boat on course to the dock the captain used his satellite phone to contact Kununurra hospital and gave instruction where the ambulance was to meet us. Meanwhile the nurse and I could do little more than hold Ryan tightly and tell him help was on the way. I’d never had to reassure someone that they were going to live before. It was all surreal. In a night of images I’ll never forget, two stand out. Crouched, naked and covered in blood and paint, one knee on the deck floor and one arm around Ryan, I recall looking up at a near full moon and thinking Is This Really Happening? as the pontoon boat sped across a black Lake Argyle.

It must have been sometime after midnight when we arrived back at the boat dock. Nothing but a long strip of wooden planks and an empty two-door pickup truck. We lugged a still-conscious Ryan down the dock and hoisted him onto the pickup’s flatbed. The captain told the Israeli to stay with the boat. The nurse and I wrapped Ryan in a blanket from the truck and joined him on the flatbed. The captain started the engine and gunned us off down the bumpy dirt road. I recall not being able to sit still as the heat from the steel flatbed was unbearable hot on my bear backside. After no more than thirty minutes we were met head on by the ambulance’s headlights. As I’ve said many times when recounting this tale, God only knows what those two ambulance drivers must have thought when they laid eyes on the four of our bloody, naked, painted bodies. No time was wasted on questions as they quickly transferred Ryan into their ambulance and hastily took off in a cloud of dirt.

With that the three of us caught our breath and exchanged names. There was nothing more we could do at this point than shower, dress, and make our way to the hospital. The drive to the captain’s house, a shower, and a borrowed set of clothes went by in a blur. When we finally arrived at Kununurra hospital my original fears were confirmed. The hospital, a single story building no larger than half an end zone, was eerily quiet at 3am. No reception, no waiting room, no people. We literally had to follow the sound of distant voices to locate the lone doctor and two nurses who had been called in to work on Ryan. When we arrived the doctor took us into an adjacent room and said surgery was needed to save his life. Surgery, however, that could not be performed in Kununana with the limited manpower and equipment. He explained they were going to knock Ryan out and transport him on the Flying Doctor to the Northern Territory capital city of Darwin (Australia has a government sponsored airline, the Flying Doctor, which literally flies patients in need of medical attention from remote locations to medical facilities around the country). After nonchalantly dropping the words “it doesn’t look good” the doctor led us in to say goodbye before the nurse administered anesthesia. I remember standing at the foot of the bed and looking into his bloodshot eyes as the captain said a few assuring words. With that we walked out.

For a reason I can’t remember the nurse and I rode on the pickup’s flatbed back to the dock. The second image from that night, which stands clear as day in my mind, is from the hour long ride back to the dock. I remember looking at the horizon as the black night sky gave way to a yellow dawn, a sleeping nurse in my arms. Is This Really Happening? We arrived at the dock and informed the Israeli of what had happened. We boarded the pontoon boat and took off across the lake to rejoin the others. I spent the trip seated on the bow, legs hovering over the water. No words were traded between the four of us. Adrenaline had been replaced by exhaustion. We reached the island shortly after the sun broke the mountain line to a flurry of nervous inquiries. A somber breakfast was had before the entire party (yacht, pontoon, and all) retreated back to the dock and our waiting transport vehicles.

We arrived back at the hostel where twenty-four hours earlier we had set off. I ate, slept, and composed an email. The next morning I checked out early, walked to town’s edge, stuck my thumb out, and hitched a final ride up to Darwin in an 18-wheeler.

In Darwin I wrote a letter to my younger brother recounting the stranger than fiction story. In the letter’s envelope I included a single croc tooth which had been strung on a leather necklace band. I signed it Merry Christmas.

To this day I have no idea what became of that Kimberley Boy.

………

Ulumqi, are we there yet?

Mount Hua: A Picture Book (almost)

I Hate China #171…The Great FireWall of China and its blockage of Facebook, Youtube, & all things porn related (sorry, I had to). A most bothersome side effect is the loading time for a single blog picture is slower than my 40 yard dash in Fletcher Fieldhouse while wearing a full one-piece spandex suit in February 2000.

There are two well known sights to visit just outside Xi’an: 1). A room full of motionless clay soldiers (Terra Cotta Warriors). 2). Mount Hua…

Now I didn’t take it personally, but the above photo is the very reason I’ve known about Mount Hua for well over a year and the reason I slept in a smelly dorm room last night alongside 11 other Chinese halfway up a mountain all so I could watch one of the world’s great sunrises this morning.

As the title suggests I was planning to assemble a See Spot Run-esque child’s picture book to tell the story of my 20 hours on the mountain, but Beijing will have none of it. So check out the picture link below and make up your own story about the 20 hour period when I actually liked China…

http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?token=769729984803%3A716005207&sourceId=533754321803&cm_mmc=eMail-_-Share-_-Photos-_-Sharee

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Hua