Phil and Scott and Chris and Auggie Do Earth.

Nepal - Trekking the Annapurna Circuit

2009-05-31T20:50:00.005+08:00

After an exhausting 220-km hike through the Annapurna Circuit, I'm currently resting in Pokhara. I expected the trail to take 18-20 days, as suggested by Lonely Planet and other apparently conservative sources, but happily hustled through the route in 10. The trip was gorgeous and tiring, given the pace I chose. Some highlights:

-Hiked about 80% of the trek with a 28-year old Israeli named Shlomi. He'd been on the road for nearly 7 months, seeing just about every part of Asia (including an Auggie-esque bike trip through Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Yunnan Province). Shlomi's "everpresent frugality" helped keep costs low: the guy's one helluva bargainer. An example of one day's costs on the trek (1 USD = 75 Nepali Rupees):

Breakfast (Black tea, chocolate biscuits): 40 rupees
Lunch (Instant Noodles, hot water): 30 rupees
Dinner (Fried rice with veggies): 150 rupees
Room at guesthouse (split with Shlomi): 50 rupees

So I spent about 4 - 6 USD per day. Pretty awesome. Then again, all I was doing was eating, walking, eating, walking, eating, and sleeping. Like Michael Phelps with shoes.

-One uncomfortable night of sleep. On day 6, we stayed in Upped Letdar at 4200m. The weather was particularly bad, though we didn't pay much attention. After a delicious potato-curry dinner next to the kitchen fire, we retired to our rustic room, oblivious to the light rain dancing off the mud-and-wood roof. After fifteen minutes, we noticed a pair of leaks dripping onto the bedroom floor. No problem, we said. We just put our packs on top of our beds and went back to sleep. After fifteen more minutes, more leaks. Though these were positioned above our beds, striking the thick blankets provided by the guesthouse. No problem, we said, and repositioned our beds diagonally to avoid the water. After fifteen more minutes, we heard a plopping sound striking the floor. Using a candle and my handphone to survey the situation, we discovered that the rain had softened the mud-roof, and our room was essentially collapsing (the "mud" was probably mixed with yak manure, meaning that it was quite literally "raining shit"). Our patience tested to the brink, we finally gathered our things, woke up the owners, and piled into the dining room with the rest of the 8-person family for our sleep.

Sadly, we did a poor job of reciprocating this hospitable act, as neither Shlomi nor I remembered to shut the door of the failing bedroom. Come morning, the bedroom's second guests, a pair of cows, had left two large piles of excrement on the floor. Only in Letdar.

-Visited the World's Highest Lake: Took the time to make a two-day side trip to Lake Tilicho, the world's highest at 4919m. The sight was beautiful: half the lake remained frozen from the relentless Nepalese winter, while the other half shone a deep blue. A truly awesome experience, well worth the brutal hike (and shivering night of sleep).

-Thorung La Pass: The pinnacle of the Annapurna circuit was the 5416m high Thorung La Pass, a torrid wind-tunnel through the Thorung mountain-range. Due to bad weather, the visibility was quite poor but it still felt like a great sense of accomplishment to reach an altitude of nearly 18,000 feet. Breathing was akin to inhaling through a crazy-straw.

All in all, the trail was relatively deserted, given that this is the start of "low season," which pretty much means that a monsoon blankets all of Nepal from 5PM until 5AM. Pros: more privacy, more negotiable room costs, less touts. Cons: incredibly wet, stinky socks. Shlomi's were worse: he wore the same pair 8 days straight.

Currently chilling in Pokhara, a touristy lakeside town with plenty of cheap food, odd massages (I paid 80 rupees for a 20 minutes "eyebrow" kneading at a barbershop: no joke) and independent travelers happy to share their experiences and views (legalize marijuana, free Tibet, ban razors and haircuts, etc). Though traveling alone has been exciting, I do miss the four-person globetrotting dynamic: it takes more than just one to Do The Earth.

-Phil

(NOTE: Phil had to post this on my behalf from Singapore because the Chinese government has caught on to our act and blocked access to the blog)

2009-05-17T18:14:00.002+08:00

Phil and I split up on Thursday (just a separation, it's only temporary), saying our goodbyes before dawn as he headed to the airport to try and find a way to Nepal. As for me, I took a cab to Chengdu's long-distance bus station and boarded a 6:30 a.m. bus to Danba, 10 hours west of Chengdu. The ride ended up taking 13 hours, for a few reasons: First, the roads are already in horrible shape in this region following the destruction of last May's Great Sichuan Earthquake. In addition, We stopped for an hour on the side of the road when heavy rains made Chengdu's suburban roads undriveable. Then around 3 p.m. we ran into a roadblock near the county of Kangding, and waited for two hours while China Hydroelectric Bureau Number 5 deployed and then detonated dynamite ahead to aid its construction of a dam.

The latter delay reflects a general trend here in Western China, that of the government investing billions of dollars towards infrastructure development to bring the country's economic miracle to those least attached to the idea of a Chinese nation, people like the large groups of Tibetans that live in Yunnan, Gansu and Sichuan Provinces. What Tibetans consider Tibet actually includes a much larger area than what the Chinese Central Government has arbitrarily deemed the Tibetan Autonomous Region. Small towns frontier towns like Danba, which has a large Tibetan population, would fall inside greater Tibet if the Tibetans had their way. More important, for foreigners who want to avoid the ridiculous rules that the Chinese government has placed on foreigners travelling to Lhasa, towns like Danba are a great way to experience Tibetan culture. That's why I went.

Danba proper fits the description of other towns in minority areas of China: It's pretty boring and soulless, mainly because Beijing has done its best to dilute and marginalize the Tibetan heritage here in favor of the conformity of a bland Chinese town. The nicest and newest building here is the government's Public Security Bureau. The people out here are among the poorest people in a nation with the world's largest wealth gap, and the construction of electric dams, power lines and other efforts to develop the region represent an attempt by the Chinese government to rein in the disgruntled masses of the west. Chinese business has reached Danba as the government has tried to prop it up as a tourist destination for the Han Chinese (The Han Chinese, one of China's 56 different ethnic groups, make up more than 90 percent of the population). Tibetan culture still thrives out here, you just have to venture outside of Danba to find it. Luckily, a man named Ah Ba offered me a ride from the bus station to my hostel and a friendship was born. Ah Ba, a Tibetan, hails from the nearby mountain village of Suo Po. Ah Ba explained that Suo Po not only offers a glimpse of real tibetan culture, but it also can lay claim to containing the world's only 13-angled watchtower. Believe it.

Stone watchtowers up to 40 meters tall, built by the locals around 1000 years ago, line the hills around Danba. Some of the watchtowers have four angles (or points), some five, and a couple even have eight. Most tourists can pay an entrance fee to take a tour and see some of them. But only one watchtower has 13 angles, according to Ah ba, and you don't need a ticket to see it. Daring Ah Ba to prove it to me, I arranged for him to pick me up early the next morning and take me to his village.

Ah Ba showed up outside my hostel door in his beat-up VW sedan at 7 a.m. and we began the rocky drive on a winding dirt road into the hills above Danba. Ah Ba explained to me that the Tibetan people who live in this area might resent the disruption brought on by the influx of Han Chinese influence from the east - especially the introduction of power lines - but things here have still remained peaceful. Protests in March 2008 between Tibetans and Han Chinese in Lhasa spread to other parts of Western China, but not here.

On the way up the hill, I also learned a little more about Ah Ba. He's 43 years old and a chain smoker, like virtually every other adult male in China. He has a wife and his 17 year-old son attends high school in the nearby county of Kangding. He lived in Chengdu for about 6 years, but didn't like itwhere he bought his wheels and drove it all the way back here to make a living as a driver. Ah Ba said he makes 2000 RMB (about US$300) a month, in-line with the average monthly wage nationwide but pretty good for these parts. Other than a visit to Kunming in neighboring Yunnan Province, he's never left Sichuan.

After about an hour Ah Ba pulled the car over and pointed me up a path, saying if I followed that path for about an hour I would reach the watchtower. He said he would accompany me if his lungs would allow it, which they wouldn't, so I was on my own. The walk up began along a stream rolling down the river underneath a forest canopy, but the path eventually emerged above the trees and wound its way up a sprawling hillside grassland. With the tower not yet in my view, I ran into a few Tibetan peasants who showed me the way.

Eventually I saw it. The 13-angled watchtower reached up into the sky, high up on the mountain above the village of Suo Po. It overlooked the whole valley and the dozens of other inferior watchtowers scattered below. Words can't do it justice, but I'll try. I sat in the watchtower for about an hour, peering out into the distance and (poorly) imagining myself as a guard 1000 years ago on the lookout for mongolians or whatever other pests were feared to be invading from the north or east. Talk about having the high ground. Despite its odd construction, I don't know if Ah Ba was right about this being the only 13-angled watchtower in the world. Either way, it was worth taking Ah Ba up on his offer and seeing it for myself.

I made the 13 hour journey back to Chengdu today (with another long stop so China Hydroelectric could blow up some more dynamite). I'll spend the night here and then take the 19-hour train to Kunming tomorrow afternoon. I had planned to fly before losing my wallet this week (see Phil's latest post), so now I have to conserve my remaining cash and give up the sleeper bed in favor of the hard seat. I'll let you know how it goes.

(Pictures to come. - Phil)

If I had another chance, I'd Cheng-du it all over again...

2009-05-13T21:21:00.005+08:00

As I prepare to leave China tomorrow enroute to Nepal, I thought I would cover some of the highlights of my 2+ weeks here.

Beijing:
- Purchased a host of fake clothing at the Pearl Market. It turns out that wearing Lacoste and Polo shirts is actually recession proof. (Each shirt cost about 12 USD).
-Camped out on the Great Wall. Our local guide, Aseem Nambiar, offered to help organize an overnight trip to the Great Wall in exchange for us picking up a foot-long Italian B.M.T. from Subway for him. Fair trade.

After a 60-minute public busride and a heavily negotiated private car trip, we arrived at Jinshanling, a portion of the Great Wall. We set up shop in an old guard tower just before dark, and did what the guards 600 years ago always did: we ate Subway sandwiches, using our battery-operated headlamps for lighting.

Later into the night, we passed around a bottle of Bai Jiu - literally "white liquor", a Chinese-made concoction of ethanol, baby tears, and Satan's urine, which made our poker game much more entertaining (we used peanuts for playing chips, and Aseem's Bruce Lee playing cards, each of which had some blurfled English quote - "Bruce roundhouse kick inspires for all pretty girl"). Under the stars, with the wall all to ourselves, we all fell into a firm, Bai Jiu-induced sleep.

At 4:45AM, we packed up our sleeping bags, gathered our empty bottles and sandwich wrappers, scratched our bug bites and began the 10km hike towards the Simatai entrance. The sunrise struggled to break through the Chinese pollution, but it didn't matter, we practically had the entire wall to ourselves. (I say "practically" because we did come across two other tourists who had opted to stay overnight, in a different tower. We found them naked in their sleeping bags, facing a camcorder and a giant photo-studio light. Gotta love home movies...)

By 8AM we arrived in Simatai, happy to avoid the flock of daily tourists, and once again negotiated a ride back home.

Shanghai:
- Visited a gym for the first time in over a month. I used one of Scott's friend's membership cards to enter Physical Fitness. Scott's friends had failed to mention that Physical Fitness, was for the most part, a very gay hangout. I discovered this myself when I visited the steamroom. While seated in the corridor-shaped room, a nude man paced back and forth through the middle walking area, choosing to sloooooowly pivot and turn around directly in front of me. If you gauge the logistics of my head's position while seated, and his you-know-what's position while pacing, you'll see where I may have felt uncomfortable. I didn't use the steamroom the next day.

-Celebrated Scott's birthday prematurely at an awesome nightclub, right on the Bund, with a view of the Shanghai skyline. I met a bunch of really cool people doing really cool things in China, thankful that our generation is so worldly and adventurous.

Chengdu:

There are Cheng-do's, and there are Cheng-don'ts:
Cheng-do:

-Pandas! Went to the Chengdu Panda Research Base, where I got to witness over 30 pandas living in captivity. I envy their daily regiment of eating and sleeping. I think I could do it with more style (seriously, doesn't bamboo get boring eventually?).

Cheng-do:

-Celebrated Scott's REAL birthday. In search of the famous Spicy Sichuan Hot Pot, we considered ourselves blessed when a local Huo Guo joint offered both the cuisine AND 1 Kuai beers (1 kuai = 15 cents). Upon sitting down, Scott informed the restaurant owner that today was his 23rd birthday. Immediately she ran to the refrigerator and returned with three beer bottles and took a seat at our table, kicking off what would turn out to be a long - and frugal - night of drinking. Following our initial gan bei (literally "empty cup", it's the Chinese version of "cheers"), the owner had a waitress blast "Happy Birthday", in both English and Chinese, on the restaurant's PA system. As luck would have it, another patron was celebrating her birthday too!

We continued to drink Green Dragon Beer (hey, for 15 cents you can't be picky) and sweat from our food, while the Owner explained a bit about herself:

1) Her restaurant had suffered because of america's poor economic policy-making
2) She had served in the Chinese army for 15 years, based in Lhasa
3) She was best friends with China's national badminton coach (who we spoke to on her phone)

Thirty minutes into dinner, the restaurant patron adjacent to us returned from outside with an 8-inch birthday cake. With little explanation, she lit five candles, sang Happy Birthday to Scott, and promptly sat down, failing to remove her gaze from Scott (her daughter arrived at the restaurant soon thereafter). After blowing out the candles, Scott received yet another surprise when the Owner dug a spoon into the cake, reached across the table, and SMEARED frosting all over Scott's beard. I guess there are some Chinese customs we have yet to learn or understand.

Cheng-don't:

Sixteen Green Dragon Beers later, we settled the bill, and in an inebriated state, hopped into the cab, already reminiscing about how we loved Chengdu. Scott, in a subconscious effort to give something back to Chengdu, left his wallet in the front seat. In the final moments of the night, I can proudly say I saw Scott run down Xing Huixi Lu barefoot, screaming for the cab (and his personal effects) to stay.

They did say it would be tough to leave Chengdu.

I am off for Nepal tomorrow morning. Zaijian, Zhongguo.

Phil's Gastronomic Adventure #6: Seoul, Korea

2009-05-03T11:51:00.003+08:00

The Location: Seoul Fish Market

The Dish: Live Octopus

The Ingredients: ummm....live octopus?

Thanks to the mass production of guidebooks and travel channels, eating live octopus in Korea has lost some of its mystery. But let's face it: it still sounds gross. After a tour of the DMZ, we headed to the Seoul Fish Market and came across a lady selling small octopi out of a plastic washing basin filled with water. Making a gesture to our mouth with our hands indicating "can we eat that?", the old fishmongress with rubber gloves and boots happily nodded. We shelled out 4,000 inflated Korean Won (about US$3) for a pair of the tentacled creatures.

We brought the pair in a clear plastic bag to the second floor of the market, where a japanese-korean restaurant accepted our raw ingredients and offered to "prepare" them for us. Two minutes later, the chef delivered a plate of furiously wriggling tentacle pieces. We dug in, watching the pieces cling on for dear after-life to our chopsticks. Each bite was an adventure, the suckers latching on to my tongue or the roof of my mouth. We chewed ferociously to put them down, surprised at how good live octopus actually tastes. Like calamari, but with feelings.

Who needs a toilet made out of solid gold when Japan has these?

2009-04-24T11:26:00.005+08:00

Phil said it best: "Japan is the best place in the world to get diarrhea."

The folks at Phil and Scott and Chris and Auggie Do Earth can go no longer without shedding light on the wonder of Japan's sanitation services, by far the cleanest and most technologically advanced in the world. We could eat food off the bathroom floors, even in subway stations. We wouldn't — and didn't — but we could. And the toilets feature not only heated seats, but spray, bidet and dry features as well. It's enough to make the guys want to pee sitting down. No, really.

We didn't, but we still spent plenty of time sitting on these bathroom beauties. At least I did. Something (maybe all that raw fish?) did not sit well in my stomach during several days this week, leaving me thankful that I found myself in Japan and not in North Africa or Peru (where running water had run away).

But enough about toilets. We've had an unbelievable time during our week in Japan, during which we've exhausted our vocal chords singing countless cheesy yet classic karaoke songs till dawn, watched a fish auction, eaten breakfast sushi, gone to arcades and maid cafes, learned Japan's revisionist war history, watched Japanese baseball, seen old friends and met new ones. Our Asian re-entry could not have gone better, and today we're off to South Korea.

Look out for our run-in with soft-shell turtles, to likely be featured in Phil's next gastronomic adventure.

Singing and Fish

2009-04-21T08:41:00.008+08:00

Auggie, Chris and I took a nocturnal adventure through Tokyo. We started with some shisha in Kitazawa, followed by an emotional Karaoke session with our Tokyo-based friends Kumiko and Kelly. All Journeyed and Bon Jovied out, we waited in a local McDonald`s until the first train of the "morning" rolled in at 4:40AM. Parting ways with our hosts, the three of us took the train to Tsukiji Fish Market (pronounced kind of like "squee-gee") to watch their famous tuna auctions. Big Bluefin Tuna can fetch up to US$185,000 at the world`s largest fish market. Still traveling on a budget, we kept our cash in pocket during the auction but did cough up some Yen for a plate of the freshest sushi in the world. Toro (tuna belly), Uni (sea urchin), Unagi (grilled eel), Maguro (tuna), squid, and an unidentifiable white fish. All washed down with an icy Asahi beer. All consumed by 6:15AM.

We took the train home, wandered the streets of Roppongi and got lost in the sea of briefcases and suits making their way to work (including one Gary Wigmore - no joke). The clock struck 9, and we went back to Motoazabu Hills #24-06 to find Kelly on her way to class. It`s nice not having responsibilities.

Detained

2009-04-21T00:24:00.009+08:00

Intending to take the subway back after a late dinner, I ended up riding to the Wigmore's apartment in the back of a Tokyo Metropolitan Police squad-car. My crime? Not having my passport, therefore having no way to prove to the police that I legally entered Japan.

Maybe the beard tipped them off, but who knows. Standing in front of a ticket machine in the Ebisu Station with an "I have no idea what I'm doing" look on my face, a policeman approached me and asked for my I.D. I pulled out my ISIC student card (accepted everywhere, my ass) and my driver's license, but he was unimpressed. He tried for a while to talk to me, but I speak no Japanese and he spoke no English, so we got nowhere. It's amazing how much people keep trying to communicate in a language even if they know the other person can't understand. What, did he expect something to suddenly click in my brain? Did he think that if he said it enough times it would finally process and I would go "Ohhhhh, THAAAAAT's what you said!" Frustrating.

Anyway, after a fruitless back and forth he escorted me to the station's police hut, where 5 other eager officers surrounded me and tried, in Japanese, to explain the situation. It was like a scene out of Harold and Kumar - "This one's mine, this one's mine! Finally, some action!" Once aware that I could not understand a word (incredibly observant, these ones), they phoned police headquarters and put me on the phone with somebody who could speak to me in English.

Once connected, the police officer handed me the phone and the man on the other line said that I was required by law to have my passport on me at all times so that the police could verify my status in Japan during random midnight subway station checks. I explained to him that I had just gone out to dinner with my friends and was unaware of the strict rules. I explained to him that while I always carried my passport while in such police states as Egypt and Peru, I did not know the same would be required here in Japan. He was not amused with the comparison, but still conceded to me that pleading ignorance helped my cause. It's better to just not know the law, he said.

The back and forth (and forth) which continued for over 30 minutes went something like this: The policeman would bark something to the man on the other line in Japanese, then hand me the phone so the other guy could explain to me (in English) why I had been detained and what I needed to do, then I handed the phone back to the policeman so the guy on the other line could tell him (in Japanese) what I had said. The scene resembled a horrible bi-lingual rendition of "Who's on First?" I played Abbott, they all played Costello.

By now, with the clock on the wall moving torturously past 12:30 a.m., I had lost all hope of making the subway before it closed. Eventually, through my new translator, the police agreed to drive me back to the apartment I'm staying at so that I could show them my passport and put them at ease. I was escorted to the squad-car surrounded by 4 officers because apparently they viewed me as a flight risk. Two officers drove me back to the Wigmore's, where I'm staying, and accompanied me upstairs. A little peeved at the whole situation, and at the fact that they wouldn't let me listen to my i-Pod in the car, I made them take their shoes off at the door. I showed them my passport, assured them it was real, they wrote down my information and headed on their way. After almost two hours in their custody, the whole thing ended in about 3 minutes.

What to take away from it all? It's tough to say, really. On one hand, it all could have been avoided if I had carried my passport with me. On the other hand, who does that? Especially in a place like Tokyo. In the end I cut my losses and, in a rare moment of optimism (for me), went to bed thankful that I had gotten a free ride home.

Photo Links

2009-04-20T14:18:00.018+08:00

Time to purge South and Central America from my camera and mind (though I had a blast) and enjoy my Asian re-entry. Enjoy the photos:

Buenos Aires

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045638&id=4402407&l=99c2955c0 5

Mendoza

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045699&id=4402407&l=7ee59fc175

Western Argentina

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045845&id=4402407&l=bc852f93f5

Chile

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2045877&id=4402407&l=c316671544

Cuzco

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046119&id=4402407&l=4519dda275

Machu Picchu

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046411&id=4402407&l=965c617aee

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046412&id=4402407&l=ac6603ce96

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046413&id=4402407&l=5a007101e9

Lima

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046469&id=4402407&l=9bd4fd3ab

Guatemala

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046716&id=4402407&l=6223890406

Mexico

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2046755&id=4402407&l=7141289ba3

Back in Asia

2009-04-20T07:37:00.002+08:00

It has been a while since my last post. It has also been a while since I have typed without the use of an apostrophe key (which, on Japanese keyboards, is so disguised it is obsolete), so please dismiss my uncondensed typing.

It has been great to return to the continent we call our own. Right now I physically sit on the foot of Chris Wong (please remember I have no apostrophe key, and that Chris can sleep in any orientation, even standing up), three hours removed from an all nighter in Tokyo. A lot has changed since I left Japan in 1995 (is that right, Mom?), but not Shibuya. The "Times Square of Tokyo" still permits pedestrians to cross the busied intersection diagonally, something we partook in to save time when meeting Kelly and her friends at the cheapest bar in town (where beers still cost 300 yen, or 3 USD). Afterwards, Scott and I watched a British soccer masterpiece at an English bar, eager to see Everton take on titans Manchester United in the FA Cup Semifinal (see results here). We finished the night in Asian fashion, meeting the gang at a congested Karaoke bar down the street. We wailed away on American classics like "Proud Mary" and "What a Wonderful World", eager to impress (see: embarrass) Kelly and her friends. Post wailing, we took an expensive cab home, now cognizant of the non-frugal Yen and our forgettable bid for singing stardom. Ten cuidado, Japan: the boys are back in town and ready to wreak havoc (exchange-rate permitting). Did someone say Instant Ramen?

Back to sleep, I need it. Hopefully Chris can sacrifice 30% of the mattress, since I still physically sit on his foot (does he really not notice?). It is great to be "home".

-Phil

"Ruins and Shit"

2009-04-17T06:05:00.018+08:00

We paid nothing for our guided tour through Guatemala. Our esteemed guide, Andrew Wigmore, met us at the airport last Friday with printed itineraries for Easter Weekend (Semana Santa, as they call it here) and the rest of our six-day stay. Andrew's friends Marilu, Jose and Eddie joined us for the weekend and we hit the road. We spent Friday heading away from Guatemala City - "only stick around if you want to see nothing interesting and then get mugged," according to Andrew - for the beach on the South Coast.

Andrew stressed the importance of sticking to the itinerary, and for good reason. Our schedule for the beach, jam-packed, included such Saturday activities as "kick soccer ball, float in ocean, cuba libres." The beach in Guatemala looks very similar to that in Bali because of its wide stretches of black volcanic sand. And while the waves pale in comparison to those we encountered in Rio, the current was deceivingly strong. Still, we welcomed the warm water and a chance to relax after our Machu Picchu bonanza.

Saturday night we headed to the center of Puerto San Jose, the town nearest our beach, where "Puerto Rico's reggeaton sensation" Calle 13 held a concert. Our post-taco binge siestas on the beach, however, caused us to be a little late getting to the concert and we missed out on tickets. Dejected but not defeated, we got wind of an alternate party - a surfer rave on the beach - and hitched up our wagons. The rave was, well, what you would expect: lots of surfers camping on the beach in anticipation of a sunrise surf shredding, lots of strobe lights, electronic music, booze and dozens of people passed out in the sand. It was awesome.

On Monday we said goodbye to Marilu, Jose and Eddie, and hopped aboard a chicken bus bound for the town of San Pedro on Lake Atitlan. We spent two nights among the hippies of San Pedro, hippies of all ages but hippies nonetheless, each with their own stash of lanyard material and their own pair of hippie pants. After learning how to blend in, we enjoyed ourselves. The highlight of our visit to the lake, as written in Andrew's itinerary, was an area with "high rocks to jump off, big lake to break your fall." He was right.

In between activities we ate...or rather, in between eating we found time for activities. The cheap Quetzal (Guatemala's local currency) allowed us to dine like kings, and dine we did. Fish Tacos, Beans, Avocado, Shrimp, Eggs, Burritos, Chinese Food, Sausage, Candy, and Pollo Campero (the local fast food chain and one of Guatemala's only multinational corporations, according to Andrew). I gained over 2 kgs in Guatemala, completely negating everything I lost while rumbling up the trail to Machu Picchu in Peru. But it was worth it.

We spent our last two nights in the sleepy town of Antigua, 20 km from Guatemala City and the Cuzco of Guatemala. Old buildings (the tallest building in town had 3 storeys), cobbled roads, and lots of gringos. In between meals and UEFA Champions League fixtures, we followed the itinerary: "wander around town, photos of ruins and shit."

All good things must come to an end, and Guatemala failed to thwart that horrible rule. We said our goodbyes to our tour guide (no tips, though) and flew out early this morning for Mexico City. I now understand why Andrew chose to stay here for the better part of the past couple years.

Not that we can complain with our current situation. Here in Mexico City we are staying with the Neidermires, who lived in Singapore in the early 90s. The Neidermires live in a beautiful apartment, so big that it seems like a house, within a sprawling gated community overlooking part of the city. What part of the city? We have no idea. We do know that the Neidermires have U.S. television channels and a stocked fridge, clean beds and hot showers, and we might not feel like seeing anything else in Mexico City during our two days here. No, serious. We know the backpacking life is rough, but we're just trying to hold ourselves over till we get back to Asia on Sunday...stay tuned.

Machu Picchu

2009-04-10T22:55:00.012+08:00

Machu Picchu is no Everest, and it is no Kilimanjaro, but it's also no Bukit Timah Hill. After a 4-day trek of nearly 75 km through the sparsely populated but beautiful and sprawling hills of the Salkantay valley to the town of Aguas Calientes, we found time for a short nap before our guide Milthon banged on our doors at Hospedaje Choquequirao shortly before 4 a.m. and said we had to go. Our journey up Machu Picchu began in darkness, head lights in tow, as we climbed the steps to the ruins for about 75 minutes before reaching the top shortly before the gates opened at 6 a.m.

Hundreds of other people joined us by foot or bus (wimps) to rush the gate when it opened because only a limited number of people (400) gain entry to Waynapicchu, the famous narrow peak which overlooks the ruins. Waynapicchu, meaning "young mountain," proved a greater test than it's older sibling after Phil and I jovially took a turn off to a place marked "the great cave." Our smiles soon followed the lead of the trail as it went down, descending further and further into a valley until we reached the grand cavern at a lower altitude than we had entered Machu Picchu at several hours earlier.

We huffed and puffed all the way to the top of Waynapicchu after our 90-minute detour and caught a fog-filled glimpse of the ruins from above, then bounded down the mountain and down Machu Picchu towards Aguas Calientes for lunch. By the afternoon Auggie, Chris, Phil and I had boarded a train back to Cuzco and said goodbye to the wilderness and the trail we had known for the last four nights.

Our journey began in Cuzco at 4 a.m. Saturday, as most of the gringos stumbled home from the city's clubs, with a long bus ride into the mountains and towards the base of Mt. Salkantay, the second tallest peak in South America. Two muliteers (that's what they call them), who would stay with us to guide the mules which carried our stuff, and a chef named Chef joined Milthon as the local contingent in our trekking party. Two Canadians, Mike and Laura, and a Brit named Joss came along as well, and we started trekking around 9 a.m. on Saturday.

When we started the trek I couldn't help but mourn - all too publicly - the fact that we would miss both college basketball's Final Four and the opening of the MLB season, but by mid-day I accepted that we would probably not find any wi-fi along the trail and decided to enjoy myself anyway. Every day presented us with breathtaking scenery. The first day we went mostly uphil, over the pass which curled around Mt. Salkantay and into a valley to our campsite. We spent the next few days going through the valley which marked the alternate route to Machu Picchu. The very popular but less hardcore Inca Trail limits the amount of people who can enter each day, and we waited too long to book our trek. Our trail had less people and better scenery, though, so we didn't think we missed much.

Our dawn ascent to Machu Picchu made every step, every slip on every rock, and every day without a shower worth it. Though the fog would hang over the peak and the ruins throughout the morning and into the afternoon, it didn't keep me from noticing how incredibly intact the ancient Incan city remained. You could see the royalty sitting on their comfy chairs nearly 500 years ago and accepting offerings of giant boulders (the customary gift of the time) from the visitors and townspeople, all 500 of them, in this cloud-scraping pueblo on a hill. You got a sense that the view of the surrounding mountains, rivers and valleys hadn't changed much at all since then. And for a second, just a second, you looked down on the hundreds of people below you in their "Texas Music Rules" t-shirts and Manchester United jerseys and shook your head that something so beautiful ever had to be discovered and violated by the heavy footsteps of tourism...but you got over that because you, too, were part of the tourist rat-king.

I hadn't seen anything cooler than Machu Picchu on this trip, and doubt I will over the next two months. Still, we welcomed our arrival on Thursday night at the Airport Hilton in Mexico City (thanks Moms) and the soft beds, room service and shampoo top-ups that came with it. We also gained whatever weight we lost on the trip right back during the hotel's morning buffet. We're in Guatemala now (sans Chris, who has made a short detour to Canada before rejoining us on April 19 in Tokyo) visiting our friend Andrew, who printed out itineraries for our 6-day stay. It's great to shun guidebooks and know a local. We spent a couple nights at a beach on the south coast, and have spent the last two days here in the lakeside town of San Pedro. Three more days in Guatemala before heading back to Mexico for a couple days and then flying to Japan.

Cuzco

2009-04-04T10:30:00.013+08:00

We arrived in Cuzco, Peru on Wednesday after a long day of travelling that began Tuesday morning in Arica, Chile. After making our way across the border to the Peruvian town of Tacna, we bought a bus ticket and spent the rest of the day and night travelling north to Cuzco, the old Incan capital.

We weren't just travelling north. We were also travelling up. Cuzco lies more than 3,000 meters above sea level, and the altitude hit all of us almost immediately upon our 6 a.m. arrival. Initial lightheadedness soon turned into a steady headache that lasted most of the day. The altitude hit Auggie the worst, and he took a personal day to rest up. By the end of our first day, we were all hurting. Especially the legs, which became really sore under the high pressure.

The highlight of day 1, other than our altitude issues, was a protest that took place outside the police station in the center of town. 300-strong turned out to protest what Phil translated as volations of social justice by the local government against the people. Eventually the riot police arrived to clear the street, but not before a small flare fragment buzzed by and nicked Phil's nose.

By day 2 we all felt much better and were able to enjoy Cuzco, the natural jumping-off point for anyone looking to check out Machu Picchu. Our guidebook dubbed Cuzco the "gringo capital of South America," and we saw it for ourselves. This place is crawling with foreigners, which made us all feel a little less cool. Still, there's a reason why gringos flock to Cuzco. The city, surrounded by lush sprawling hills, has great old buildings and narrow cobblestone streets. You also feel like you can touch the clouds because you are so high up. The local delicacy here is guinea pig, served streetside (see the before and after photos below). Most restaurants also serve Alpaca meat (very tasty). You'd also be hard-pressed to find a dish that doesn't come with avocado, continuing a much-welcomed trend from Chile.

In between our good meals, we've had a chance to visit some of the Incan ruins in the immediate area surrounding Cuzco. Today we took an all-day tour of the Sacred Valley of the Incas, which started frustratingly as a market-hopping bus ride but culminated in a trip to Olantaytambo and one of the Incan empire's more important temples.

Today was just an appetizer, and we start on the road to our main course tomorrow. A bus will pick us up at 4 a.m. and take us to where we will start our 4-day trek to Macchu Picchu. We were all hoping to get one last shower in before the trek, but the water supply to the entire city of Cuzco shut down this evening and word on the street is that it won't be on again until 5 a.m. tomorrow.

We will be off the grid until April 9 or 10, but expect major reflections from all four of us following the trek.

Phil´s Gastronomic Adventure #5: Arica, Chile

2009-04-02T07:26:00.005+08:00

Location: Arica, Peru

The Dish: Ceviche in a Cup

Ingredients: Tall glass, raw egg, four types of ceviche (raw fish or shellfish marinated in lemon juice), cilantro, onions, scallions, salt, pepper, lemon juice

It comes as no surprise that a country with over 6,400 km of coastline has great seafood (we´ve all heard of the Chilean Seabass, right?). However, while in Iquique for 3 days we had little success finding a cheap, legitimate seafood restaurant. After heading north to the coastal town of Arica, we were pointed towards a Mercado down Avenida Colon. Upon entering, we still felt lost: the place resembled an indoor food court, only three times as chaotic, wet and smelly. Using broken Spanish, I asked a juice vendor which stall made the best seafood. He pointed over his shoulder and said aca ("over there"). We followed his directions to a crowded, sushi bar-esque stall with seven seats and large buffet vats of ceviche. Jackpot.

Auggie and I noticed that everyone kept ordering something in a cup, so we asked for dos copas. What we got was a concoction of raw egg, lemon juice, and raw fish. But it was unbelievably refreshing. I felt like I had just opened my mouth in the ocean. Who cares if it was potentially unsafe, the ceviche was a welcoming change from the heavy meat dishes we´d grown accustomed to in Brazil and Argentina. Following suit, we slurped the remaining juices of the cup after the remaining morsels of whitefish and clams were gone.

Cost: 1,500 Chilean Pesos (US$2.80)

What we learned yesterday...

2009-03-31T08:26:00.003+08:00

... is that Chileans don't really like Peru very much. The two fought an intense 4-year war in the late 19th century for control over the abundant nitrates in the northern desert surrounding the town of Arica, where we arrived yesterday after a short bus ride from Iquique.

Chile won the War of the Pacific in 1883 and gained control over this border region, but animosity between the two countries continued into the 20th Century and still exists today. Last night, the two countries battled in a football qualifier for the 2010 World Cup.

It's a good thing Chile won.

Our bus pulled into Arica just after the Chilean national team finished off a 3-1 victory over Peru (in Peru, no less), and the bus driver already knew. He honked his horn profusely as the cars aroud him did the same and the rest of the Arican locals took to the streets. Cars drove by waving Chilean flags, and other people left their homes to turn their car alarms on and join the cacophonic symphony. Eventually we figured out what had happened, and breathed a sigh of relief that a riot wasn't taking place.

As we wandered around some of the more seedy areas of outer Arica searching for a place to sleep, we counted our blessings that Chile came out on top. People seemed to want to drink beers with us rather than strangle-mug us, which surely would have happened had Peru won.

Spent most of the day today in internet cafes trying to figure out our apartment situation for New York when we have to re-enter the real world (barf), but ended up back at square one by the end of the day (due in no part to the efforts of Phil's brother, Nick, who is doing everything he can on the ground in NY to find a place for the three of us). So, we each bought bottles of wine so that we could play catchup and seize back some of the lost day. Tomorrow we plan on taking a bus across the border into Peru, where we will make our way to Cusco in preparation for our trek to Machu Picchu and a glimpse of its famous guinea pirates, guinea bees and the guineasaurous rex.

Freshy Pow-Pow on the Dunes of Iquique

2009-03-31T08:08:00.007+08:00

It's true, you CAN sandboard in Iquique. Actually, they invented it here.

On a mission to shred the sticky gnar gnar on the dunes overlooking the coastal town of Iquique in northern Chile, we found an adventure sports shop near the beach and rented 3 sandboards for the day. After lunch at a Chinese restaurant (they're everywhere in Chile for some reason), we grabbed our boards and took a cab to the edge of town.

There are no chairlifts at the sandboarding area here, but there's also no need to pay for an entry ticket. We spent 3 hours or so hiking up the tall dunes (it's not easy to hike up hills of sand) and boarding back down again. Hike up, board down. Hike up, board down. It was tiring but worth the righteous thrill of cutting up the dune on the way down.

If only we were so skilled and graceful. We each had our share of wipeouts, and most of them were caught on camera (look for blooper footage sometime in the next two weeks). By 7, we were covered in sand and ready for a shower and a cold beer.

There's a reason people board on snow instead of sand, but it was worth it.

Rio Reflections, Argentina and Chile

2009-03-29T08:21:00.003+08:00

Rio Di Janeiro, Brasil March 10-19

First Impressions:

There are absolutely no modern buildings in Rio, all the architecture seems to be frozen in the early part of the 20th century, when Rio was said to be in it´s prime. There´s a famous saying about Rio... ¨Rio, the city of the future... and always will be.¨ The Copacabana Palace directly in the heart of Copa Beach is the iconic shrine of the golden years, what I would consider the Raffles Hotel of Rio, really impressive place.

Some Highlights:

A morning run across the entire stretch of Copa Beach and back. I had forgotten how incredible and rewarding a nice morning jog on the beach can be. Definitely the highlight of my time in Rio (is that weird?)

Day Trip to Cabo Frio (Cold Cape) fishing and empanadas on the beach.

Local football match Flamenco v Tigres at the largest stadium in the world (capacity over 200,000 pax).

Savoring the local liquor Cacacha at the popular Academia d´Cacacha. Indulging in the Tagines of Brasil, Carne Assadas (steak sandwiches) at the well-known and award winning Cervantes Restaurant, their speciality sandwich adds some pineapples slices for a nice little twist.

The last day in Rio, Phil, Chris and I took a 7min helicopter ride (first time in a chopper for all three of us) ¨Sir your aircraft is ready.¨ YES. The trip gave us some dreamy views of Copa Beach and Sugar Loaf Mountain and quite the arresting aerial view of the impressive Corcavado (Christ d´Redeemer).

After spending a week in our rented apartment in Rio we were forced to move to a hostel because the apartment had been reserved for our last day by another party. We had to move to Copa Hostel, which was the opposite of a fantastic experience. Not only was it expensive, but the room we slept in bedded 12 other dudes all wet from the beaches and stinking of carne assadas and meat sweats. Basically it was like sleeping in a poorly ventilated men´s locker room for 20 dollars. Not good value. After crying ourselves to sleep we were ready to leave Rio for the BA.

Dieting Challenge. 9 Days in Rio had put a lot of meat and beer into our systems and we were feeling.... I wouldn´t say worthless, but close to that.. more like we needed to possibly move in a healthier direction in terms of eating habits and general lifestyle. After weighing ourselves at the luggage counter (oh yea we´re those guys), we recorded our respective weights and set weight targets for the next few weeks/months. My plan is to go on a wine and water diet for the rest of the trip: cutting soda and beer out of my diet as well as moderating my eating habits, avoiding bread and white carbs as much as possible and no ice cream (so sad). Also making bolder attempts to exercise (HA HA HA) running or being active whenever possible, hostel room pushups/situps. Having it be sort of competitive makes the diet a bit more entertaining as well.

Argentina Highlights (Buenos Aires, Mendoza and the outskirts near the Chilean border)

BA is great. It´s like Europe but instead of getting slaughtered by the Euro, we are eating four course meals with steak and wine for the cheap cheap. So yeah, basically to sum up BA: we ate a lot of really tasty steaks, enjoyed the Malbecs and the area we were staying in San Telmo was young and lively. I think it´s safe to say, minus the sleeping arrangement (another sauna of a room) we all enjoyed BA.

Mendoza is also great. After a 14hr comfortable ride on a double decker cama bus (seats are like business class seats on airplanes) which included a dinner stop, we arrived in Mendoza. Known for its vineyards and outdoor activities.. we immediately jumped into a 1/2 day bike tour of the vineyards, learned about the aging process of wines and how to properly taste vinos. We also celebrated Phil´s birthday in Mendoza. Nothing like a nice pleasant lunch at the popular Anna bistro and then winning big at the casino (twice) before making our triumphant return to Anna´s bistro for dinner to splurge our dirty casino winnings on gazpacho, carpaccio, goat cheese crostinis, tapas, steaks, desserts and vino tintos.. all free courtesy of Sheraton Casino Mendoza! The next morning we awoke pregant with energy (even with only 1-2hrs of sleep) to head up the mountains to Posterillos for a half day of white water rafting (3o dollars/each good value) on some t3 rapids. We were lucky to have an affable, down to earth Canadian Danny as our rafting guide who really made the day worth it.

After our afternoon of rafting, we camped out nearby in Posterillos at a hippie haven, run by Paco, a pretty ¨righteous dude.¨Upon setting up camp we came across a group of hippies threading some bracelets that they were planning on selling. Very authentic hippies, not hippie-crites (get it? haha). Anyways, camped out and it was great, rained on our tents in the middle of the night, but it wasn´t too bad. Took a 7am bus to Puento de Inca (Inca Bridge) about 2hrs away. Glorified truck stop with a bizzare natural bridge as one of the main tourist attractions. But a few kms away is the base of Aconcagua (tallest peak outside of Asia). Walked around some lagoons and took some photos at the base. We were already over 3000 meters up in the Andes and the summit of Aconcagua is about 6800m. Quite breathtaking scenery.

At 5pm we took a minibus over the border into Santiago (about 3hrs) evading the 130 dollar visa for Americans that you are charged upon arriving at the airport. Spending only a few hours in the Santiago bus station we boarded another bus, but this time for a total travel time of 25 hours. YES! After watching the Hot Chick and Jerry Maguire in Spanish, two Nicolas Cage including Bangkok Dangerous (probably the best movie ever made) we arrived at our planned destination of Iquique, Chile. Iquique is known for its sand dunes and Free Zone shopping center (duty free equivalent). Also, there´s a lot of Chinese people in Iquique, so we had some medicore Chinese food for lunch, but were able to utilize our Mandarin language which was nice. The afternoon was spent ¨shredding¨some ¨righteous¨ sand dunes with some rented sand boards. Interesting experience, afternoon well spent. Heading next to Arica, the border town before Peru, but probably going to roam the Free Zone shopping mall beforehand. woo

So it´s been about a week since we made our informal dieting pledges:
-1/2 day bike tour of the vineyards. YES
-No soda, except one sip from Chris´pepsi at a truck stop near the Andes Mt Range by the border of Chile. YES
-I´ve probably had a total of 4 bottles of beer. not too bad.
-Ate steak practically everyday in Argentina and gorged ourselves one night after winning big at the casino in Mendoza. NO
-But haven´t been ordering fries with my steaks. YES Generally sticking to the diet, let´s see if I´ll actually see some results. More to come in the coming weeks! hahaha

Phil´s Gastronomic Adventure #4

2009-03-29T02:13:00.004+08:00

Location: Aconcagua Cafe, Puente del Inca, Argentina

Dish: Lentejas

Ingredients: Lentil, calabash (whatever that is), carrot, sweet potato, bacon, pork sausage, spices

After a quick busride from Pontrerillos to Puente del Inca (two small Argentinian villages on the road between Mendoza and Santiago), we plopped ourselves down at the only open restaurant in town, Aconcagua Snack Bar. With America´s tallest mountain (and the world´s tallest, if you ignore Asia, which I most certainly cannot, lah) as a backdrop, I ventured away from the menu´s Continental classics (sandwiches and pizzas) and tried the only thing on the menu that sounded different: Lentejas. What arrived some 10 minutes later was a green stew, chock full of lentils and assorted pieces of pork. Dipping a small portion of bread shared with Auggie (who ordered Lentejas as well), we chowed down, enjoyed the view, and pretended to scratch the beards that accompanied everyone else´s faces in this neck of the woods.

Hippies

2009-03-27T10:24:00.006+08:00

A quick word from an internet cafe at the bus station in Santiago, Chile, where we arrived a few hours ago after spending the day near the border on the Argentina side.

Yesterday was great. After staying out all night to celebrate Phil's birthday (except Wong. He fell asleep at our streetside table and made the walk of shame home while the others raged on), a bus picked us up at 8:30 a.m. to for a rafting trip. Our boat (dubbed the "power boat" by our extremely nice Canadian guide, Danny) braved the class 3 (yawn) rapids and completed the 12 km stretch without losing anybody to the frigid cold of Rio Blanco. Auggie did lose his watch, though.

In a brainstorming session the day before, we had decided to try to camp somewhere between Mendoza and the border for a night before heading into Chile. Though we had read about a few possible camping places, we had no choice but to wing it after rafting and lucked out when Danny and the other river guides hooked us up with a ride from the rafting area to a nearby campsite in the tiny town of Postilleros.

Our door-to-door service took us to the campsite/sleepy hippie enclave owned by Paco, a beanpole of a man with a long nicotine-stained beard who looked like he had a story or two to tell. I'm sure he did, but he spoke no english and we never really got to hear it. Still, he had what we wanted. His "campsite" consisted of a kitchen hut, bathroom and cold shower facilities, an office and a small newly-constructed building which housed about 8 beds. Paco offered us beds in the new building, but we had our hearts set on camping and he instead provided us with two tents. We shared the campsite with a group of gypsy hippies who spent the day making bracelets with lanyard (which they would then try to sell the next day). They didn't say much to us. We just weren't hippie enough for them.

Undeterred, we spent the rest of the day exploring the surrounding area, which included some hills and the beautiful Posterillos Lake. We crashed early (had to axe a plan to sleep under the stars when a storm moved through), and woke up the next morning in time to catch a 7:30 bus to the border town of Puente del Inca.

There wasn't much to Puente del Inca, but it sits only a short hike from the base of Mt. Aconcagua, the tallest peak outside of Asia. After buying tickets for a 5 o'clock bus over the border to Santiago, we hiked up the road (thought about hitchhiking but never really had the chance) and visited the park surrounding the mountain. It was a great way to kill time and wear our legs out before the upcoming bus ride.

We are in Santiago now but don't plan on staying. If all goes well we will be on a 24-hour bus north to Iquique, near the Peruvian border. We have plans to arrive in Cusco, Peru on April 2 and have some time to kill before we get there, so we have decided to check out Iquique after a Slovenian from our rafting boat recommended it. Apparently you can go skiing on sand dunes there. We'll let you know how that goes.

Mendoza: In search of Señor Hugo

2009-03-25T03:31:00.009+08:00

After a 14-hour busride from Buenos Aires, we arrived in Mendoza and set up shop in Hostal International Mendoza, a cozy spot about 300m from the city center that provided us with a private 4-bed room, complete with hot shower and crappy fan (though it does oscillate, which prevents any tiffs between the four of us at night). We set out for a cheap bite, and found Mr. Dog (come for the weiners...stay for the buns), which offered Heart Attack Value Meals and 4 peso beers (Quilmes is the local flavor). With regards to this blog title, a number of independents sources had told us that we HAD TO find Sr. Hugo to rent bikes and see the vineyards in Mendoza. However, my guidebook mentioned nothing of the man, and our hostel had not heard of him either. Somewhat deflated, we opted to make our own bike tour, and hopped on local bus #10-171 to Coquimbito, wine country. We boarded the bus and paid our toll. Immediately afterwards, the bus driver, hidden behind his reflective Aviator sunglasses, offered me an orange flyer from his outstretched hand. On the top, in massive bold font, it said SEÑOR HUGO WINE TOURS. Do you believe in miracles? After 30 minutes, the conductor dropped us off in front of a collection of bicycles and a portly gentleman, who we could only assume - and we assumed correctly - to be Señor Hugo.

For 3 hours we biked around the valley and stopped at a number of vineyards, tasting a variety of Malbecs, Cabernets, and one dessert wine (which was gross). After an inebriated bikeride back to Sr Hugo´s (in which we passed by a police van transporting four Israeli travelers that were deemed too drunk to ride their bicycles - no joke), we were greeted with empanadas and unlimited free wine - uh oh.

Back in the city, we chowed on Sarmiento street and people-watched. An American couple in their sixties told us that they were high-school sweethearts: dating at age 12, married at 19, parents of four boys by 24. This marital and familial efficiency nearly shocked us into sobriety. We ordered another bottle of Malbec and pledged to stay young forever.

Buenos Fucking Aires

2009-03-22T11:54:00.003+08:00

Argentina has come along way from its inflation-marred days of the 1980s, or even more recently in 2001-2002. But while people may no longer carry money around in bags, your dollar still takes you incredibly far here (especially compared to Brazil). We have been dining on steak and wine for three nights, at an average cost of about US$ 10-15 per person. Oh, and the portions are huge (think meat sweats). Some places, anticipating a further inflation of the Peso, even accept US dollars at a very generous rate.

Really, we haven't done much here besides eat steak, drink wine and play a little (or in some cases, too many) cards. Today we DID put our tourist pants on and took a 3-4 hour bike tour of Buenos Aires, which was cool way to both see things and to work up our appetites for more steak and wine.

We made the most of our first two nights here, for a couple reasons. First, things don't get going until very late (see Madrid). On Friday night, we met up with one of my Middlebury friends and her friends for dinner around 11 p.m. Second, our first two nights were spent in horrible squalor at a hostel in the otherwise beautiful San Telmo area. For a TOTAL of US$15 per person for the two nights, we slept in a dorm-style room without windows, air conditioning or even a fan. The saying holds true: you get what you pay for. Dreading a return to the hostel, we stayed out until nearly 5 a.m. on Thursday and nearly as late on Friday.

Not willing to sweat ourselves to sleep for a third straight time, we decided to uprade for our last night here in BA. We've spoiled ourselves and moved down the street to a "Bed and Breakfast," staying in a 3-person room (with a mattress put down to make 4, Wong drawing the short straw) for a $15 per person. It has airconditioning, clean towels, a continental breakfast buffet and a very nice female receptionist who may or may not have armpit hair.

It's just after midnight on Saturday night and we want to go a club nearby, but it won't even open its doors to us until 1. So Phil, Auggie and Chris are taking a late-night siesta (If I try to take a nap I'll be down for the count) before we head out to enjoy our last night here. We are leaving tomorrow night on a 14-hour bus ride to Mendoza, in the heart of wine country, where we'll hang out in the vineyards and hot springs for about 4 days before continuing west to Chile. We four amigos sure have it rough.

Phil and Scott's Final Four Picks

2009-03-22T11:33:00.003+08:00

Phil:
Louisville
Memphis (Champ)
Duke
UNC

Scott:
Michigan St.
Connecticut
Villanova
UNC (Champ)

Scott's Photo Links (all of them)

2009-03-20T07:55:00.002+08:00

I swear I'm going to pistol-whip the next person who says shenanigans

2009-03-18T04:22:00.007+08:00

Today is St. Patrick's Day (and my 30th day on the road), so we are putting on our finest green garb and heading to an Irish pub in Ipanema called Shenanigans. We've got two more nights in Rio, our longest stop on the trip to-date, and we want to make the most of it. Tomorrow we'll kill what's left of the alcohol we bought on our way in at duty free.

Yesterday we took a short 2.5 hour bus ride to Cabo Frio (Cold Cape), a quiet beach town first discovered by Americo Vespucci in 1503. Lots of people fish here (Phil and Auggie got in on the act), and the water was clearer and calmer than in Rio. It was nice to get away from Rio for a day and escape to a place where we weren't constantly worried about a potential strangle-mugging.

I should give Rio a little bit more credit. It isn't nearly as dangerous as every guide book and self-proclaimed Rio expert had warned us about before our arrival. It's like any other big city- if you're stupid and go where you shouldn't when you shouldn't, then maybe you deserve to get mugged. We travel mostly as a group of 4, which is helpful - although one of our four is a giant Chinaman, so we are usually a walking bulls' eye - but we've been careful and haven't run into any issues.

Overall, we've come a long way since our first night of frantically searching for a place to sleep. Our apartment is only a 30 second walk from Copacabana beach, and we've done just about all that Rio has to offer (Christ the Redeemer, Sugarloaf Mtn, Soccer game at Maracana Stadium) except a Favella tour. None of us really saw the novelty in taking a tour of a slum.

So it's been a good week here. We're all looking forward to tonight's shenanigans (ja ja ja) and drinking some green beer. Still, I'm beached out and ready to move south to Buenos Aires.

Phil's photo update

2009-03-16T09:53:00.003+08:00

Bom Dia! Our arrival in Rio

2009-03-14T01:10:00.006+08:00

With great regret we arrived in Rio with no Brazilian Rials, no phone, and no accommodation to speak of. At the airport, we crossed over from Terminal 2 to 1, exchanged money (except Scott, whose debit card was repeatedly declined), bought a SIM card, and called a number in our guidebook in search of a studio apartment for Auggie, Scott and myself. When we arrived in Copacabana, the apartment, though well equipped with the essential amenities (air-conditioning, hot shower, and a blender), was quite cramped for three people so we went street-side in search of an alternative for our 9 day stay.

After walking around for nearly an hour and realizing that nearly every hostel and hotel was fully booked, our 15kg packs suddenly felt much heavier. Distraught, lost and exhausted, we "lucked out" when a pair of beer-drinking locals saw our heavy packs and decided to offer us a deal on an apartment. In a mess of Portuguese and broken English, Framcisco (with an "m") and his brother Bene offered us an apartment with view of the water, which we agreed to look at. We hopped into the back of Bene's small pick-up truck (only after he produced his identification as a military policemen in an effort to convince us he didn't want to kidnap us) and cruised down Avenua Copacabana for 5 minutes, arriving at a building whose ground floor was co-occupied by Bob's Restaurant (Rio's response to McDonald's) and "Pussycat Cafe," an establishment that likely needs little explanation.

The apartment itself was about what you would expect in a building whose ground floor housed a strip club: the general contractor had, at one point, installed a plywood wall that only rose to about six feet high and attempted to separate the tattered queen-sized bed from the tattered living room. The bathroom contained artifacts of the last visitor, who must have had a legitimate reason to leave his half-used toothpaste, dirtied toothbrush and rusted razorblade aside the sink. A half-smoked cigarette also sat on the edge of the grungy bathtub. Tired and anxious to get on with our lives, we accepted the R$150/night rate offered from Bene.

After handing over the cash to Framcisco, we sh*t, showered, and shaved (with our own razors, except Scott who is bearding it), hopped into our 3-man elevator (how convenient!) and met the rest of the crew for an eventful night in Lapa.

The next day, we cleared out of our apartment and ended up signing a one-week lease on the first apartment we had looked at the day before, an apartment that suddenly seemed much bigger, cleaner and more comfortable to us.

-Phil/Scott/Auggie

Rio by the Sea-O

2009-03-13T09:30:00.011+08:00

In the past two days, I've eaten about 5kg of meat at Churascarias, drank bottles of wine, laid out by the beach in Copacabana, gone to samba clubs and seen Christ the Redeemer.

I am very satisfied.

I split up with the rest of the crew because Laura came down from

New York to visit me in Rio, and we stayed at the Sheraton which to me felt absolutely amazing. Hot water that lasted forever and big soft free towels! I was obsessing over the towels.. the tiny travel towel was getting a little old and grimy. Basically got to enjoy everything that I've taken for granted before and it was great.

The other guys went from hostel to hostel because everything was booked solid. They have a funny story about hopping in the

back of a pickup truck by a dude on the street who asked them if they were looking for a place to stay. Look forward to the whole turn of events next time they post.

We met up with Vince, Amrit, Dali and Sophie for the first day before they flew back to Sao Paolo. It was great to hang out with some old friends to change the pace of the Phil, Scott, Auggie Chris extravaganza. We ate dinner and went to a samba club where we listened to live music until late, and went back to the beach to have a few cervezas.

The next day Laura and I went to a highly recommended Churascaria,

(brazilian style restaurant where waiters bring unlimited swords of meat.) Laura became very entertained by the fact that I completely stuffed myself with meat until I looked lethargic and sick by the end of the evening. My goal was to eat everything.

Today the guys came over to the hotel and we all

relaxed by the pool, taking a nice breather from the hectic schedule of the previous weeks.

Afterwards we decided to hike up to the Christ the Redeemer statue, to which the taxi driver

seemed a bit concerned about our safety. Most tourists take the train or a car to the top. The hike was about an hour and was decently steep. We passed by a Favela (slum), and there was a rather shady character looking at as with a saw, as in hacksaw. That kinda irked us a little and we walked briskly past that area.

Once we got to the top, the view was absolutely amazing.

The statue itself was huge, but it's really the fact that it was located on the top of a cliff that makes it thoroughly impressive.

Tomorrow we are all planning to go on a helicopter and fly around the statue. None of us have ever been in one before and we are all pretty psyched for it.

More updates to come soon, and if we don't it's because Rio is being pretty great to us.

Lisbon

2009-03-10T16:14:00.002+08:00

We're in the airport in Lisbon waiting to take an early getaway to Rio de Janeiro for the start of about 5 weeks in South America.

I could have spent much more time in Lisbon. Everything - the weather, the people and the prices - all surprised us and made the trip very enjoyable. Some highlights of the three-night visit:

- The Maritime Museum (Auggie definitely made his euros count here).

- The Oceanarium (one of the world's biggest, with a sunfish and sandtiger sharks, who reproduce through intro-uterine cannibalism, by which 9 emryos fight until only two remain).

- Dirt-cheap beer - A home-cooked meal at the best hostel in the world.

- Not missing our flight out

We have no idea what we'll do or where we'll stay when we land in Rio late on Tuesday afternoon, but we're excited. We're excited to stop spending euros, and we're excited to fly as far away as possible from any tajines, couscous, shawarmas. We're also excited to see how far Phil's Spanish can take us. But most of all, we're excited to move one step closer to seeing the flute bands, guinea hamsters and guinea pirates of Peru.

Phil's (and Auggie's) Gastronomic Adventure #3

2009-03-09T18:44:00.005+08:00

We had first heard about it from my Marrakech pocket guide. In a lackluster attempt to mention cuisine options that weren't French, the author had inputted a 2'' by 2'' square listing some common Moroccan dishes. We were quickly drawn to the last entry, something called tete d'agneau, or sheep's head. There was no description past the title.

By way of pure luck, while wandering through a nearby Souk we found ourselves staring at a row of sheep's heads proudly displayed atop of a display counter outside a restaurant, much like football helmets in a trophy case or mooseheads in a hunting lodge. We ordered one tete d'agneau for 60 dirhams (US$7) and waited at a table, anxiously.

The waiter responded to our request by dropping his hand into a vat the size of a backpack and removed a whole sheep's head. With cleaver in hand, he split the head into two, removed the prized brains (that would cost us extra) and plonked the halves onto a plate, much like a chef would do with a flayed chicken breast. A sprinkle of paprika-salt later, we dove in. By Auggie's insistence, we each dug around for an eye within the socket and threw it in our mouths. Salty, chewy, and unfortunately unforgettable. Moving on through, we sampled a consortium of Sheep face bits, like rubbery skin, savory flesh and some awful, chew-then-spit pieces that lacked classification. And the aroma - I beg your pardon, the odor - resembled the smell of rotting animal carcus. The meat itself was incredibly tender, tasting similar to a lamb shank, and went well with the flavored salt. However, the remaining portions just got in the way. Money well spent? We can't complain.

Boom! Roasted.

2009-03-08T19:02:00.006+08:00

We missed our first flight today. At the bus station in Essouaria, we were given empty promises by bus touts who told us it would only take 5 hours to Casablanca. After inquiring with each company we decided to save $4US dollars and took the cheaper option. 5 hours to Casablanca probably would have been true if we didn't stop and pick up 20 different passengers along the way who each demanded to be let off in their city of choice. People were cursing at the bus driver in Arabic until he got off the freeway and dropped them off at their optimal locations (door-to-door service!). Then of course, the driver got hungry and stopped to pick up meat and vegetables along the way. We then proceeded to a Tajine (where else!) restaurant to have his buddies BBQ it for him on a grill. While we were waiting for him to finish his tea we watched as the $4 more legit bus fly by. Even though we were 3 hours behind we still would have been O.K. except for the fact that we took a cab to the airport that topped out at 50km/h. Perfect example of when each little thing goes wrong. We rushed into the check-in and got the horrible no-go from the lady behind the counter. Disappointed, we ended up coughing up 200 euros to take Royal Air Maroc, whose logo happens to be a star with wings and a crown drawn on it. The plane was a little prop ATF plane, which we believed to be french and from the 70s. However, we made it to Portugal in one piece, and found us some very swank accommodation for a reasonable price!

The Man:1 Us:0

Hello! Maroc

2009-03-08T18:49:00.005+08:00

Hello! My first blog post. Hopefully with this humble attempt at writing a blog entry I will be able to offer a 4th perspective on our travels.

Here are some highlights from our 5 days 4 nights spent in Maroc:

After arriving in Casablanca (where the film Casablanca was not filmed) at around 1am, we subsequently peaced out of that semi to very medicore city taking the 4:50am train to Marakesh. After dodging the degenerates and crazies at the train station we managed to grab seats on the train, only to take notice that train cars in Morocco double as meat freezers. Shivering ourselves to sleep is the only way to do it.

Marakesh is what you would expect from a tourist-favorite Moroccan destination. Exotic, congested and an incredibly lively atmosphere. Basically the opposite of 1st world European life (which is probably why so many Europeans make the RV trip over to Morocco to escape the banality and comforts of civilized society) Marakesh certainly has its charm, and the people are generally endearing. Phil and I managed to try the pride of Moroccan cuisine: snail soup and sheep's head. Both, quite bland and the sheep's head def initely gave off a strange aroma. Another food staple that is practically ubiquitous (not in a good way) throughout the country are tagines. Vegetable tagines, beef tagines, poulet tagines, big tagines, small tagines, tagines for two people. I think you catch my drift. Basically, tagine is a fancy word for stew that is cooked using quite the unique cone-shaped cover with a hole on the top acting as sort of a chimney. Anyways, tagine is grea t maybe the first few times but after 8-10 tagines, I can confidently say I'm quite over them.

Moroccan nights were also culturally different and we were quickly forced to grow accustomed to them. Beer and alcohol are only served at restaurants and bars and are relatively expensive. After some investigating we found out you can certainly buy alcohol at stores but they close at 8 and by stores they mean one store in the new French development, a cab ride away. Being the alcoholics that we are we made the trip not just once but twice, two separate nights (so that's ok).

Marakesh during the day, we made use of our time getting lost in the many souks, taking in the activity at the famed Jamaal El Efna square right next to our hotel. The square is the heart of Marakesh were orange juice peddlers, street food stalls, witch doctors, teeth sellers and snake charmers all congregate to push their respective goods and services.

After the second night in Marakesh we decided to escape the intensity and congestion and take a day trek to Setti Fatma, the High Atlas Mountains and waterfalls near the Ourika Valley. We purchased a formal tour from a dubious tour operator in Marakesh for 200 derhams each (under 25 usd). They claimed we would leave Marakesh at 9 and hike and see the waterfalls for 5 hrs from 10-3. Obviously we were somewhat skeptical when everytime we asked what we were doing the answer was always yes (regardless of whether or not the question was a yes or no question), but no way did we imagine we would be going to each of their relatives' shops for the first three hours of the trip before even reaching our point of interest. Given we were quite upset, once we did reach the mountains and undertook the picturesque hike, it definitely ameliorated our anger towards Morocco. Met two new friends on our tour who we chilled with later that night. Unimpressive, not worth indulging about in the blog.

Our last full day in Maroc was spent at the great little beach town of Essouria. We were spoiled by the Suprabus that took us there under 3 hrs (without picking up hitchikers or the driver stopping to buy meat: something we found out was the norm on our bus trip back to Casablanca) Essouria was great, very relaxed. The seafood wasn't terrific, but we did meet some down to earth Americans who were studying in the capital of Rabat on an SIT study abroad program and were in Essouria for the weekend. Had some nice tea and abinsthe concoctions, recommended by our new buddies and lucked out with her hostel staying at a rooftop apartment fully equipped with a terrace for 100 derhams each (approx 12 usd). Essouria is pretty cool, a place I wouldn't mind visiting again.. seems like a lot of foreigners set up shop here, it also exudes somewhat of a surfer beach bum atmosphere. Overall Morocco was pretty great.

Oh yea. we missed our flight to Lisbon.

Auggie

Black Market Beers

2009-03-07T14:53:00.004+08:00

Took a 3.5 hour bus yesterday from Marrakech to the coastal town of Essaouira and spent the night here. Essaouira is much quieter than Marrakech and a little less hectic for a first-time visitor. Like Marrakech, however, Essaouira also goes dry shortly after evening prayer. With seemingly no option for booze as our last night in Morocco approached, we received a lifeline when a helpful man on the street directed us to a man named Raheem and Essaouira's black market for beer.

For a very reasonable 15 Dirhams a bottle (half the price of a beer at one of the many restaurants or hotels in town, often the only places to buy alcohol after dark), we negotiated to buy 20 bottles of Special Flag from Raheem, who disappeared down an alley and returned carrying a large black plastic bag filled to the brim with beers. Raheem got what he wanted, we got what we wanted, and after giving a little baksheesh to the runner who opened the door of the black market to us, we headed back victorious to our terrace apartment in Riad Jemalhi Mogador.

Leaving this morning on a 7:45 bus to Casablanca to catch a 4:20 p.m. flight to Lisbon to have the euros sucked out of us for a couple nights before hopping down to South America. Stay tuned...

Marrakech

2009-03-04T20:01:00.004+08:00

We've arrived in Marrakech. The market/bazaar/carnival is ridiculous, and the medina just booms with activity and energy. More stories and pictures to come.

Also, below are public links to Phil's photos of Sri Lanka and India (you don't need to have a facebook account to view them). I'm currently having photos issues with my newer destinations. Egad.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2110716&id=1708274&l=24162 (Sri Lanka)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2111239&id=1708274&l=1cd8a (Sri Lanka)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2111240&id=1708274&l=44ea7 (India)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2111677&id=1708274&l=1a542 (India)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2111736&id=1708274&l=51936 (India)

Everything is Bon

2009-03-02T16:50:00.004+08:00

It's been a week since our last post, so we decided to splurge and drop the 2 Euros for Internet time here at the Bulldog hotel in Amsterdam, where we've been staying since Saturday.

Tunisia was a blast, and we managed to get by despite speaking little to no French (Wong said Merci every once in a while, that was about it). After arriving in Tunis around 10 p.m., we took up two rooms at the Hotel de Suisse and managed to fit in both beers with drunk locals at Pub Gentleman (a must-see for any visitor to Tunis) and a few hours of sleep before catching a 6 a.m. train south to Gabes.

Once in Gabes, we dined on Tunisian salads and roast chicken, then lucked out and secured a 4-wheel drive vehicle for an overnight journey even further south to the Sahara desert. On our drive down, we stopped in Matmata to see the site of Luke Skywalker's boyhood home in the first Star Wars, then drove to our campsite as the sun set over the desert. We spent the night in a tent under the stars (a bromantic evening), and woke up early to check out the endless sand dunes and then head north through Chenini, Tataouine and Medenine before arriving back in Gabes in the late afternoon.

George Lucas clearly hijacked the traditional garb of southern Tunisian Berbers when outfitting his Jawas, and we were inspired to pick up our own Jawa suits (cool and not-at-all-creepy pictures to follow soon). We decided to take the overnight train back up to Tunis, so we dug our foxholes at a local bar until midnight, then hopped on the train back north.

Arriving in Tunis at 6 a.m., we stored our bags at Hotel de Suisse and then hit up a local Hammam for a good scrubdown because it had been a few days since our last shower. Auggie and I splurged on a massage while Phil reluctantly offered to scrub down a rather bicurious Italian man as he returned the favor. We had a lot of time to kill in Tunis before our late night flight out, so we did some laundry and took a brief train up north to Carthage, which at one point over a thousand years ago was the center of power in the Mediterranean (before the Romans raped it).

Back in Tunis, we headed to the airport around 10 p.m. for a 4 a.m. flight. Once there, I managed to sell my computer to the man working at the post office for US$300 (quite a price for a 2004 Laptop that runs slower than my brother). After an arduous early morning flight, we hit an Amazing Race-esque road block at the Frankfurt airport when we discovered that the round-trip train ticket to Amsterdam would cost more than 200 Euros per person (twice what we anticipated). We ended up renting a car for just under 200 Euros, total, and burned it up the Autobahn in our Ford S-Max for the 450 km drive to Amsterdam. It took us only 3 hours (we love the Autobahn).

Amsterdam has been great, and we're ready to ship back down to Africa for a 5-day visit to Morocco. We're alive, rejuvenated and ready to tread on. Pictures from the last week to follow soon.

Camels, Pyramids and Bombs

2009-02-23T05:55:00.006+08:00

Today had a little bit of everything, as we experienced first-hand both the beauty of ancient Egypt and the chaotic reality of present-day Cairo.

We spent most of the day out at the Great Pyramids of Giza, riding camels and horses around the pyramids for 4 hours. It was beautiful and we even avoided the scams that afflict most tourists. Look out for pictures tomorrow.

As great as the pyramids were, today will be looked back on and remembered for other reasons. An explosion rocked one of Cairo's main tourist areas today, when somebody threw a grenade into a crowd in the Khan El-Khalili shopping district around 7 p.m., right as we finished dinner. Luckily we were nowhere near the ar ea and are all safe. We had met up with my friend Theo after dinner, and rushed with him to the scene of the blast when he received the news. We looked on as Theo and other journalists from all over the world attempted to piece together details of the attack so that he could write a story. The area was packed with policemen, reporters and onlookers, and numerous ambulances zoomed by as we tried to figure out exactly what occurred. Reports varied as to what really happened. Those on the scene claimed that the bomb was placed under a chair in a cafe, while others said the bomb was in a parked car, and still others insisted that it was actually thrown from a window above the square.

The latter report actually seems the most reliable now, based on reports we are seeing online. A French tourist has been confirmed dea d, while numerous other foreign tourists were injured. Most of the injuries actually occurred during the chaos that ensued after the blast, as the crowd dispersed and some people were trampled. As of this posting, nobody has taken credit for the attack. Either way, our adrenaline was pumping and we were definitely luc ky that we didn't decide to go to the market today. We'll go tomorrow for sure though. In fact, it's probably the safest place in the city right now.

Phil's Gastronomic Adventure #2

2009-02-22T14:16:00.005+08:00

February 20, 2009

Istanbul, Turkey: Lunch at Sampiyon Korokec

We didn't need much to eat, more of just a meal to kill time before a late afternoon of narghile (waterpipe) and backgammon. With that, Duruhan took us to Istanbul's equivalent of American late-night-diner food: the restaurant looked like a clash between Arby's and Mos Burger. I followed all of Duru's orders: Midye Dolma (Mussels stuffed with rice) to start, Kokorec (fried cow intestine sandwich) and Ayran (goat's milk yogurt) to wash it all down. Our waiter presented our food suspiciously quick, but I was eager to wake up the palette. The mussels tasted as you would expect, and the cow intestine somewhere in between fried sausage and caramelized onions. So, it tasted awesome. I could picture myself wandering the streets after a late night of drinking and stumbling into Sampiyon Kokorec for some beer-absorbing fare. The Ayran reminded me of a sour Lassi, and I concluded that goats and cows produce very similar-tasting milk. The meal cost around US$5. Cheaper than Arby's.

Goodbye Istanbul, Hello Cairo (and Auggie)

2009-02-22T07:44:00.006+08:00

3 became 4 today, and our group took full shape, when Auggie flew to Cairo from Athens to meet Chris, Phil and me in Cairo when our flight arrived from Istanbul. Turkey treated us very well, much better than backpackers deserve. Our stay in Istanbul could not even really be considered backpacking, but you'll hear no complaints from us (More photos from our time in Istanbul here and here).

My friend Theo, who graduated from Middlebury last May and has worked in Cairo for the past 9 months as a freelance journalist, met us at the airport and escorted us into the city to find a hostel. We are staying in the heart of downtown, just a short walk from the Egyptian museum in a very cool neighborhood. Everything here is dirt cheap and the people so far have been great to us. While looking for a hostel, a man named Aladdin (no joke) approached us and offered to help us find a place. He walked with us down several blocks until we located one (called the Bedouin Hostel). Theo was sure he was after a tip, but when he offered him several Egyptian Pounds (about 5.5 to the U.S. Dollar) Aladdin surprisingly turned him down. Theo said that in all his time in Cairo, nobody had ever refused a tip like that.

We hung out most of the night at a local bar that Theo recommended, drinking Egyptian brandy and the local beer (called Stella). Waking up early to go see the Pyramids.

Happy Ending? Thanks, but No Thanks

2009-02-20T02:38:00.019+08:00

A man-on-man scrubdown and bath never felt so good.

We three amigos decided to spend Thursday afternoon the same way the sultans of Istanbul used to spend their afternoons: by decompressing in a bath house (Hamam). After a quick lunch near the Hagia Sophia, we headed to the 300 year-old Cağaloğlu Hamamı. Named in the well-known 2003 travel book "1,000 Places to See Before You Die," the Cagaloglu is the most famous bath house in the city and did not disappoint.

The Sultans enjoyed scrub-downs from their beautiful concubines. We went a different route. After changing out of your clothes and donning only a towel (a very small towel), visitors to the Cagalogu spend 1o minutes relaxing in a hot and huge white marble domed steam room. The goal of the first ten minutes is to sweat, which loosens up the dirt on your skin in preparation for the bath. Then a massive Turk with imposing man breasts (Phil drew the short straw and got a skinny old man) massages you, rubs you down with a Turkish-style loofah before lathering you up with soap and rinsing you off with hot water. You finish up with a 10-15 minute session in a 110-degree sauna, rinse off again and then head back to the changing room to get dressed.

It was pricey (60-80 Lira + Tips to the man-breasted man-beasts) but worth it. The three of us emerged from the bath house feeling fresh and victorious. We'd like to say we closed our eyes and tried to imagine that the hulking man-hands of the massive masseurs really belonged to a lean and pretty masseuse, but we'd be lying. It just wouldn't have been the same.

The Taj Mahal

2009-02-19T15:08:00.004+08:00

One last picture:

India Highlights

2009-02-19T14:54:00.010+08:00

-On Jet airways to Chennai, the stewardess spilled on me not once but TWICE, the second time was a whole cup of some indian yoghurt drink. And everything I was wearing I laboriously hand-washed in the sink the day before. I was expecting at least another 3 days in those clothes. Sigh. But I was just not in the mood to make a big deal of it, so I just did damage control in the airplane lavatory and couldn't get rid of the tart yoghurt smell until we landed.

-Cozy Inn in the Paharganj backpackers area. (it kinda reminded me of Christiana area in Copenhagen). 7 dollars a night. The window had a wood board nailed to it, and Phil and I shared a full size bed. No mosquitoes though so we were happy. The street food on our alley was 2 feet from the public toilet "stall" which was just a cut out in the wall and a hole in the ground. A+ for space utilization.

-Phil called me a pussy for not eating the street food (a different stall then the one by us). Phil now has double the delhi-belly count than I do. I'm okay with this. However, the food in general was all around great and cheap! All the butter chicken we could ever want.

-Saw all the sights in Delhi, Jaipur and Agra. By far the highlight was the Taj Mahal at 7am so you could see the sunrise. Very cool. I ended up taking like 300 pictures. Everything else that day kinda paled in comparison.

-Observatory in Jaipur. Some sultan built the biggest sundial in the world in order for it to be accurate to 2 seconds. He also built a range if fairly ridiculous instruments. We were both very impressed. Nice to see a guy have a hobby.

-Our Tuk-tuk driver we hired for the day in Agra was the evil Fonz of tuk-tuk drivers, not only did he wear a leather jacket, he drove up to random stalls and demanded m

oney where the shopowner ends up handing over a few hundred rupees. He then slapped a guy in the face later in the day. Ridiculous. His lame

was Saleem and I have his card if anyone is i

nterested (you don't want him). We wanted to like him but he

ended up taking us to places we didn't want to go to. I'm also disappointed that he didn't let us drive his tuk-tuk like he promised. And then he slapped a guy on the face.

-Indian trains are awesome. In general class people were jumping

in through the windows and climbing on the roof cause the cabin was so packed. Did

n't get to experience that though since we splurged on reserved seats.

-India was everything we were missing in Sri Lanka, crazy cities, crazy buildings, crazy people.

More Photos can be accessed here and here (you don't need an account):

Phil's Gastronomic Adventure #1

2009-02-18T15:55:00.003+08:00

February 13th, Old Delhi, India:

At a vegetarian street-side stall in Old Delhi, it was morning. locals happily chomped away, surrounding a chaotic table of curry and dhal vats and a giant Indian-style wok making sweet roti. The combination was served on the classic Indian tin dish. Space was limited, but available: enough for a pair of elbows. All the cooks watched in wonder as I, the foreigner, tried to fit in. I ate cautiously, tearing off bite-sized roti pieces and applying curry to them with my lone item of silverware, a dirtied - but fully functional - metal spoon. As I continued, an old gentleman, somehow affiliated with this layman's F&B establishment, constantly reminded me that it was curry and roti that I was eating. "You eat curry and roti!" he repeated, pointing to the respective foods with his frail, wrinkled right index finger, not once confusing one for the other. He also happily refilled my waterglass from a distressed, mangled aqua-blue watercooler that had likely hydrated the morning masses on this street for years and years. I used my final Tapas-sized roti to proudly wipe away the curry from my mouth and fingers (sorry mom, no Wet Wipes), finally popping the morsel-turned-serviette into my mouth; the Phil Haslett gesture of gastronomical approval. I gratefully handed over my 10 Rupees, full and satisfied.

Istanbul Poop Count

2009-02-18T14:33:00.007+08:00

It's only been one day, but we wanted to drop you a line about the perseverance of Dehli-belly:

Scott: 1*

Wong: 5

Phil: 11*

Looks like Phil is running away with the title.

*updated since first publishing

Besh Kebab, Enshah'Allah (5 Kebabs, God Willing)

2009-02-18T04:32:00.016+08:00

2 became 3 today when Phil, Chris and I all arrived in Istanbul.

East meets west here, literally. With water separating the Asian and European sides of the city, Istanbul exhibits a dense yet beautiful confluence of culture: Byzantine and Ottoman, Roman and Greek, Christian and Muslim. Sprawling hills hug the shores of the Golden Horn, Bosphorous and the Sea of Marmara, and the hills feature a maze of narrow streets lined with shophouses, mosques, markets, museums, palaces, parks and other buildings that look like they've been around for centuries (most have). Walls from the 5th Century still surround parts of the city, the same city once inhabited by the likes of Richard the Lion Hearted and Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror.

We spent today in the Sultanahmet area and Bazaar Quarter, home to some of the oldest and most well-known sites in the city. We saw the Hagia Sophia, built over 1,400 years ago as a Byzantine Church before the Ottomans converted it into a mosque in the 15th Century (which we agreed was kind of cheap and unoriginal; they just painted over the old mosaics and added a few minarets...still, it's beautiful and the most impressive structure in a city full of them). Then we hopped across the square (which used to be the site of a 100,000 seat Roman stadium) to the Blue Mosque, which was not so blue but still very cool.

After a visit to a section of the Basilica Cistern, a cavernous underground vault which once supplied water to the entire city, we made a pit stop for some tea and sheesha before braving the Grand Bazaar. It's a huge labaryinth of stalls selling everything from hookahs to jewelry to handbags to clothing. Chris paid 5 Lira for a small souvenir, then Phil found the same for 1 Lira and celebrated. I celebrated too, for Phil. Phil and I then bought soccer jerseys of the two biggest clubs in the city and bitter rivals, Galatasaray (Phil) and Fenerbahce (me).

Chris is staying with his college friend, Duruhan, on the Asian side of the city, while Phil and I stay on the European side with the Akavis, a really nice family who used to live in Singapore and offered their place up to us during our stay. The Akavi household (Judy, Michel, Chris and Daniel) staunchly supports Fenerbahce, but they've forgiven Phil for buying the jersey of the enemy and the two of us could not have a better setup here. We enjoyed a huge home-cooked meal, Phil finally washed the India out of his clothes and we have utilized the services of Ilhan, the best driver in Istanbul (no joke).

We were unable to find a good kebab, but we will be vigilant tomorrow. All in all, it was a great start to the trip. 1 day down, 119 to go.

Trailer Video

2009-02-17T03:48:00.001+08:00

We are at New Delhi airport where they have free wi-fi! So while Phil and I wait for our plane to Istanbul, we uploaded a short video we've been working on to kick off our trip!

Quick update

2009-02-16T03:07:00.003+08:00

Hey everyone,

Chris and I are in Agra, India. Took a "5 hour" (see: 8 hour) train from Jaipur to here. Having uploading problems at the Internet Cafe, so we will post again in the next few days. All we have to say is that Delhi is crazy, Jaipur is gorgeous (and really interesting: they were studying some serious astronomy over 300 years ago!), and the Taj Mahal should be breathtaking tomorrow during sunrise/sunset. Some quick notes:

-Starting to feel what has been infamously labeled as "Delhi Belly"
-Chris and I have not had separate beds since leaving Sri Lanka (but we don't cuddle)
-My zip-off pants are awesome. They are to travelers what capris are to European men.

Prices in India:
"cozy" room in Delhi: 350 rupees
1 Liter mineral water: 15 rupees
Chapati and Dahl breakfast at street-stall: 10 rupees
3rd class A/C sleeper seat on 6-hour train: 450 rupees
(exchange rate: 48 Rupees = US$1)

That's it, that's all. Pictures/better blogging to come in a few days.

Namaste,
Phil

Rest of Sri Lanka

2009-02-14T11:15:00.002+08:00

Phil and I arrived at the Colombo train station with our full packs on and ready to take on Sri Lanka's capital. Knowing that when we'd walk out of the station we'd be endlessly harassed by tuk-tuk drivers, we decided to walk on our own to the nearby YMCA. (Only $6 a night!) Phil had his compass handy so we followed our map and walked. And walked, and walked. In the midday heat we finally solicited some help from an old shopkeeper, who was terribly excited to be able to be of some assistance. It didn't take awhile to notice that everything he was pointing out on the map wasn't where we'd thought it'd be. And since the old guy looked like he doesn't do much but hang out in that area, I had a hunch and dug around for my own (badass) compass to find out that Phil's bulls*** Brookstone compass was exactly right if the world was upside down. Phil = minus one point.

Now Phil would want me to mention that we almost missed a train because I was having some stomach issues, so now the point spread is about 0.5 points. Hope that makes you feel better Phil, you and your little girl compass.

Later that day we fell victim to our first tourist scam. We were walking by the presidential palace when this guy started asking us where we are from etc. After a bit of walking we noticed that there were tons of Sri Lankan soldiers on the road and no one else in sight. The guy with us said that area is restricted (which it was) and that we should hop into this tuk-tuk that conveniently just showed up, so we did. Long story short the tuk-tuk cost us about 1500 rupees, which is about 15 US dollars, which is also about enough for the driver and his friend to go on an all expenses paid beach holiday with their extended families. Phil and I were not pleased, but we took some consolation that it was a cheap lesson for us to learn for the rest of the trip.

Colombo doesn't really have all that much to see, and the markets were full of horrible name brand ripoffs like ESPPIT, so there wasn't much to buy. Who even buys real ESPRIT these days anyway? We left early the next morning for Kandy hoping that the lush interior of Sri Lanka would offer us something more.

The Sri Lankan trains are much more comfortable than the buses. Phil and I spent lots of time on the doorway of the train and looked out onto the tracks. The cool air was refreshing and the never-ending sceneries made it arguably more comfortable than sitting inside (although more dangerous). The steady incline up to Kandy provided us with a contrast of the beach Sri Lanka we have come to know, as the drop off cliff rolled into a continuous sea of green foliage. Sri Lanka natural beauty: A+. Sri Lankan Cities: C+ at best.

Kandy was a passable city, the one main tourist attraction was a temple where apparently Buddha's tooth lies, hence the aptly named Temple of Tooth. Great. We strolled along and constantly got harassed by the locals, which we were warned about as Kandy is a popular tourist city. Anxious to get away, we went on local train to the Pinewalla elephant orphanage, ranked number 3 of things to see in Sri Lanka according to our guide book. (Rough Guide to Sri Lanka = D-. Lonely Plant, sorry for forsaking thee.) While there were numerous elephants and it was cute watching them eating, and while yes we got excited and took loads of pictures, it wasn't really worth the trek up there. It was as if Jurong Bird Park was 5 hours away from Singapore and someone made a trip to see that. Plus the elephants were chained as if they were in some Oliver! style orphanage. Yeah anyway.. lame singer joke. I apologize.

We decided to take a local bus instead of a tuk-tuk. And since the bus was a completely packed 16 seater van with people pouring out of the windows, the bus guy told me to just hang out of the door and hang on to the window pillar. Phil made it inside because he's not as big (fat?) as me. Holding on the bus was easy until it started to make turns away from the door, making it significantly harder to hold onto the pillar. After five minutes with one leg in the air and the other straining to keep a grip on the step, I made my way inside the bus as people left. Phew. Hanging on to the side of a bus checkbox, is now checked. Done. By the way if you are my mom reading this, everything is complete fiction.

We hopped onto a train back to Colombo during when all the schools let out, so the train was crowded with school-kids and their ESPPIT backpacks. As we got closer to Colombo it got considerably more packed. When we got back to the YMCA, we were pretty ready to leave Sri Lanka and excited to see what India has in store for us.

Oh and I did laundry in the sink, I washed my Exofficio travelling boxers, which Phil and Scott also have. They are made of nylon so they dry really fast, AND they are incredibly comfortable. Is it weird that while we sleep in the same bed we are wearing the exact same thing?

Chris and Phil Share a Bed

2009-02-10T12:13:00.004+08:00

First of all, A+ to Phil and his Singapore Airlines PPS Credit Card. Even though technically it still isn't supposed to get us into the lounge, the lady at the counter looked way too afraid to turn us down after seeing that the card had the PPS symbol on it. The booze tasted better than usual, but that's because it tasted free. We landed at Sri Lanka airport at midnight where we first noticed that everyone was making quick duty free purchases. Not liquor mind you but full size Korean refrigerators. Sri Lanka must have an exorbitant tax on imported refrigerators, ahh it must be good to be a local Sri Lankan fridge manufacturer, go protectionism!

The first night we had a complete infestation of mosquitos in our hostel room and all we had were these anti-mosquito patches that mom stuffed in my backpack (along with countless other pariphinallea, if anyone needs 10 spare syringes "just in case" let me know). I already knew these were useless from previous experiences, but Phil and I in desperation adhered about 6 patches each, for each arm, leg, neck and forehead. With it already being hot I even decided to put on my jeans and patagonia to reduce my skin bareness. We ended up not sleeping and instead kept telling each other "oh my god I hate mosquitoes" every 15 minutes.

At 5am we were practically looking forward to peacing out of the hostel and going for our bus ride. We've been warned of the experience on the public buses and they weren't exaggerating. It's either full acceleration or full brakes with these guys and the fact that I had to jam my knees in the seat in front of me didn't help (Da Zhong Guo). The driver smiles with glee after every successful overtake on the two lane road, and his smile is proportional to the amount of time he plays chicken with the every oncoming bus. Phil moved to the back of the bus to try and get some sleep after the previous night's festivities, as I watched in anticipation of which Lanka Ashok Leyland model bus would be the end of us. We picked up tons of passengers along the way at various bus stops (poorly named because the bus never actually stops, it just slows down just enough for people to hop on.) Thankfully our driver has serious bus driving skills, and they were nice enough to stop the bus completely so that Phil and I could clumsily hop off with our packs. We are such tourists.

Unawatuna is awesome, a great beach destination. We both agreed that this must have been what Phuket was like before it became obnoxiously touristy. Cafe huts and bars litter the beachfront, and are nicely done and aren't trashy at all. (read: no ping pong shows) We spent the day lounging on the beach, eating local fare and planning the next few days on this great island. Tomorrow we are going to TRAIN it back to Colombo and head out towards the wonders of inland Sri Lanka. Overall an excellent start to our trip.

Phil lost the coin toss and he is little spoon tonight.

-Chris

Aaaaaaand we're off!

2009-02-09T23:35:00.002+08:00

Chris and I have begun "doing the earth." So far, the experiences have been very polarizing: either they're great, or they suck. For instance:

We finagled our way into the Singapore Airlines Lounge in Bangkok, and thus enjoyed complimentary food and alcohol (Great);

Upon arrival in Sri Lanka, we decided to stay in a guesthouse near the bus-station while waiting for the 6AM bus to Unawatuna. However, the room did not come with any air-conditioning or mosquito net, and we were subsequently victims of a Mosquito Massacre, enduring over 50 bites each during a sleepless 5-hour toss-and-turn marathon (Suck);

The bus to Unawatuna was running ahead of schedule and we just got on before it left (Great);

The bus-driver thought he was a character in Mario Kart and disregarded every traffic law known to man: we felt like Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves in Speed (Suck);

Unawatuna is beautiful! the food is fantastic, people are incredibly friendly, and our guesthouse has BOTH air-conditioning and a mosquito net! (Great)

In summary, the trip has taken a turbulent start. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Looking forward to tomorrow's journey to Colombo and Kandy, where we will visit the world's largest elephant sanctuary.

We'll keep you posted.

Adios,
Phil

Thaipusam

2009-02-08T17:30:00.005+08:00

Phil and Chris left for Sri Lanka and India today (I will meet up with them in Istanbul and Auggie will meet us in Cairo after that). So what did we do for Phil's last few hours before heading to India? What piece of Singapore did he want to experience one last time?

We went to see a Hindu Festival.

Not so fast. Thaipusam is banned in India and now only allowed to be practiced in Singapore and Kuala Lumpur. Devotees make a gesture of bondage, oftentimes as a way to protect themselves and their families from great misfortune. After fasting, abstaining from sex and meditating for a month preceding the festival, they conduct the ceremony by walking along a set route while wearing kavadi (burden). Kavadi is a wooden frame or canopy carried on the shoulders while numerous needles and hooks penetrate the person's front, back and side.

Ouch. Look out for the first real post of the trip, which is now officially underway.

Better Late Than Never

2009-02-02T06:39:00.009+08:00

And so it was that on a beautiful but bitterly cold January day I rolled and tumbled down the Middlebury College ski slope in my cap and gown to finally celebrate my graduation. There's a longstanding tradition here that January graduates (about 120 of us) follow up the formal graduation ceremony with a group ski down the Snow Bowl. I was that guy who lived in the mountains for four years and went skiing only a few times, so on Saturday I made it down to the bottom of the mountain in one piece but with a face full of snow.

I haven't posted on this blog yet. I like to write but haven't had anything worth writing about until now because I haven't gotten to go prawn fishing in Vermont. Plus, I haven't started doing the earth yet so I didn't want to jump the gun. But now that college is done and the trip is right around the corner, I wanted to make my debut in the blogosphere.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that Phil and Scott couldn't have made plans to do the earth without Phil graduating early, but equal credit should be given to he who graduated a semester late.

Now, it's time to do the earth. Stay tuned...

Updated Itinerary

2009-01-26T22:35:00.001+08:00

2/8: Fly from Bangkok, Thailand to Colombo, Sri Lanka

2/9-2/11: Hikkaduwa, Sri Lanka

2/12-2/17: Agra (Taj Mahal), Jaipur, and New Delhi, India

2/17-2/21: Istanbul, Turkey

2/21-2/24: Cairo and Giza, Egypt

2/24-2/28: Tunis, Tunisia

2/28-3/2: Munich, Germany

3/2-3/4: Amsterdam, The Netherlands

3/4-3/7: Casablanca and Marrakech, Morocco

3/7-3/9: Lisbon, Portugal

3/9-3/16: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

3/16-3/20: Buenos Aires, Argentina

3/20-3/22: Travel from Argentina to Santiago, Chile (by way of Mendoza)

3/22-3/31: Chile

4/1-4/2: Cuzco, Chile

4/2-4/7: Inca Trail to Macchu Pichu, Chile

4/8-4/10: Lima, Peru

4/10-4/18: Guatemala City, Guatemala

4/19-4/25: Tokyo and Kyoto, Japan

4/25-4/29: Seoul, Korea

4/29-5/3: Beijing, China

5/3-5/7: Ulan Bator, Mongolia

5/7-6/20: Southern Provinces of China to Lhasa, Tibet, and Annapurna Circuit trek near Kathmandu, Nepal

132 Days, or ~18 Weeks, 21 countries (22 if you include Tibet).

Culture Shock Training - Prawn Fishing in Singapore

2009-01-20T18:31:00.000+08:00

To prepare ourselves for the wild and unfamiliar recreational activities of cultures unknown, we decided to take a trip out to Bishan Park and go Prawn Fishing.

We paid $30 per person for 3 hours of fishing, which included all equipment and bait.

After our time was up, we successfully barbecued and consumed the fruits of our labor. Great success!

New Travelers!

2009-01-18T19:29:00.001+08:00

Auggie Bautista (Hamilton '08) and Chris Wong (Wharton '08) have joined our worldwide quest for action, adventure, and real Peruvian flute bands.

Auggie will be joining us in Turkey (February 17th) and Chris will start with me in Bangkok (February 8th).

Visiting the doctor tomorrow for my inoculations, and also to pick up a first-aid kit (see: anti-diarrheal medication).

Visa Update: No visa required for Brazil for British Nationals. Chinese visa is $50 less than if I were American, and the Indian visa is also $20 cheaper. God save the Queen!

Adios,
Phil

Up and Running

2008-12-05T05:35:00.000+08:00

Hey everyone! Scott and I will be posting as often as possible on this site about our travels. Any suggestions or comments can be posted here. Or you can send us a postcard. Either way works.

Look here for an update on all the super-cool innoculations that Scott and I have to get before departure (is Polio still floating around in Peru?).

Adios,
Phil y Scott