The Backpack

While traveling around the world I carried around a good 35 pounds and was often asked what I packed. No, I didn’t carry souvenirs (there are post offices!) or evening gowns. there just isn’t much you really need to set off for a good global adventure.

1. Medicines – I had stuff for all sorts of ailments and injuries as just in case for times I wasn’t near a pharmacy or wasn’t well enough to get to one. By far the most valuable ones to me were Neosporin (it cures everything the Greeks use Windex for), Dramamine, oral rehydration salts and probiotics. Other than Neosporin the others could be bought at any pharmacy. The only preventative medicine I used was Malarone for malaria in Madagascar (I recently heard of someone taking that for a trip to Costa Rica where all they were going to do was take a tour bus and I still can’t get my eyebrows back down) and that really needs to be purchased in advance of travel. Any anti-malaria with -quine in the name seems to provide great visions and an overall odd feeling so unless that’s your goal I would go with the low/no side effect Malarone.

2. Gadgets and batteries – I had my camera, lens attachments, video camera, binoculars, outlet adapters and chargers of all sorts. The medicine and gadget bag were by far the heaviest portion of my pack, but I never could pare them down very far. I probably used the binoculars the least, but was so glad when I had them – for lemurs, whales, etc.

3. A good multi-purpose knife (knife, scissors, corkscrew) and wet wipes. I had great dreams of eating mangoes while traveling by train through Madagascar. Turned out they only had one short-ish distance train line semi-running and it wasn’t mango season. I didn’t give up hope though because the Philippines came later and there were good mangoes (along with Vietnam). India had excellent mangoes as well but I ate them civilized residential.  When you have good mangoes and limited access to a sink, you need wet wipes.

4. Clothes, Teva sandals (seems like standard traveler equipment), 50 cent flip flops for showers, a versatile walking/hiking shoe and a pair of black flats I was ready to retire when done traveling. As for clothes, there was the usual traveler/hiker North Face kinds of t-shirts and shorts (fleece top, rain jacket, no heavy jacket), but for pants I can’t say enough about Dockers. They’re cheap, they’re stretchy enough for hiking, they’re cotton so they breath, and my black pair with flats got me out of the jungle and into 777 first class seats as if I hadn’t missed a hot shower.

5. A list of addresses for postcards, copy of my passport (also emailed to myself) and a self-made photo ID listing medications, allergies and emergency contact info.

6. Sunscreen. Period.

Other than that, there’s nothing you really need to carry around for a year and a half. It’s funny when I hear about what people have to have or need and most of the time none of that would have fit in my backpack. Really, with clean water and a few necessities you are all set to set off on a world trip.

Superlicious Serbia

I have great friends, an interesting job and I live in a city with access to anything at just about any time, and yet rarely does a day go by when I don’t mentally reminisce and miss my short time in Serbia. Oh Serbia, to what do I owe this romance? It always comes down to the people, but in this case it almost seems to run deeper.

I can’t say enough gushing things about my friends there in Novi Sad, and their friends, and their friends’ friends and the friendly hotel, café and boutique staff. Serbia all started as a destination to meet former business contacts while I was in Europe anyhow for a wedding – since I don’t get across the pond too often anymore (Europe has felt so “done” for me). We had exchanged plenty of emails and talked occasionally, but I wanted to meet them as soon as I had the chance, and like so many things if you don’t make the effort you don’t get the experience. So I popped over for a week and was met by Aleksandar and his amazing wife Biljana who are the most incredible people. Not just in generosity, but in sense of humor and life perspectives. I love Biljana’s communist enthusiasm and Aleksandar’s cultural ideas. We had such a time together and they weren’t an anomaly – everyone else I met was similar. It was fantastic learning about the region and exchanging world views. So cool their currency is still tied to gold and they are all about bucking the Euro. About a week in, I realized by American standards I wasn’t just a flaming liberal (as described by family) – I was a radical. There is something about equality and fair access that I just can’t be convinced out of!

Things I loved beyond people – the old neighborhood around the Novi Sad fortress, couples making out in tiny cars at stoplights, cobblestone streets, the pace of Belgrade, café lifestyles, and old world European architecture mixed with progressive Serbian eccentricity. I spent most of my time in Novi Sad with a day in the Hardap Dam region along the Danube next to Romania and a day or so in Belgrade. If you ever drive along the Danube to Hardap Dam you have to look out for the carving of a head on the face of a cliff in Romania. It’s massively large and looks a lot like Jay Leno. To this day I have no idea who it is or how they got the forest fairies to carve it.

People in the US and even at the wedding in Denmark often asked why I would go to Serbia (but with the italicized “Why would you go to Serbia?” inflection). I was told it’s a war-torn country. There are physical reminders in Belgrade and sentiment about American foreign policy is not flying at a high (although certainly an improvement over Bush). One very interesting reminder of the sentiment was the American Embassy in Belgrade has no windows! Anyhow, the world population can rest assured, Serbia is doing just fine (thank you very much). They’ve rebounded and continue to make economic progress and the quality of life is quite high for many compared with others in European nations and the US who are burning the candle at both ends working long hours for low pay. Serbian services and increasingly products are in high demand and the local prices remain competitive.

I’ll absolutely go back and hope to explore more of the region including Bosnia, Montenegro and Croatia on my next visit. If you’re going to be there soon, I can highly recommend the hotel I stayed at in Novi Sad -  Arta Boutique Hotel http://www.boutiquehotelarta.rs/. The rooms were very cool and the staff was very helpful.

Zimbabwean Currency Note

I find this so significant and must share.  According to Wikipedia as read online March 08, 2011,

“The Zimbabwean dollar (sign: $, or Z$ to distinguish it from other dollar-denominated currencies) was the official currency of Zimbabwe from 1980 to 12 April 2009.
Although the dollar was considered to be among the highest valued currency units when it was first introduced in 1980 to replace the Rhodesian dollar at a ratio of 1:1, political turmoil and hyperinflation rapidly eroded the value of the Zimbabwe dollar to eventually become one of the least valued currency units in the world, undergoing three redenominations, and banknote denominations being issued for as high as $100 trillion.[2]
Despite attempts to control inflation by legislation and three separate redenominations in 2006, 2008 and 2009, the use of the dollar as an official currency was effectively abandoned on 12 April 2009. This was a result of the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe legalizing the use of foreign currencies for transactions in January 2009.[3]
Foreign currencies such as the South African Rand, Botswana Pula, Pound Sterling and the United States Dollar are now used instead for all transactions in Zimbabwe, and the current policy of the government of Zimbabwe has insisted that any attempts to reintroduce Zimbabwean currency should only be considered if the industrial output improves.[4]”
Have you ever traveled anyplace where the currency you used no longer exists?

Yes, I went home with the taxi driver

Whoah – don’t rush so quickly to judge!  We’ve all done things we kinda knew at the time were risky or looked back and thought yikes.  I was recently reminded of this choice I made by my dear friend whose name has changed since we first met.
To explain, there were extraordinary circumstances surrounding this.  I had just arrived in Bulawayo after a longer than need be train ride from Vic Falls (details at some future date in another post – must say it will be awesome – think, me and 3 lady bunkmates trading in Namibia, a white Rhodesian who has no nationality, a fashion designer and a guy with an electric guitar).
I was the whitie who got off the train, and clearly the freak (remember in the movie Madagascar when the king lemur Julien XIII says “Can you not see that you have insulted the freak?” – kind of like that but totally different and wonderful all the same).  Typically in other countries and cities I could walk up to the information desk and ask a few friendly questions like what’s there to do, where can I catch the bus, how do you get around, is there a locker I can use…those kinds of things.  Well, in a country with no petrol, no jobs, and essentially chaos, there is no information desk.  So I talked with the only staff that station had, who clearly thought I was nuts (astute man) and was told to wait out front for my taxi.  I stood out there looking at the parking lot and a couple ladies nearby said “watch out, you’re being watched” which I took to be a friendly how do ya do.  Clearly they were also shy as they whispered under their breath and told me not to look at them.
Not long after that my chariot arrived, a Toyota pickup truck, and the driver, Steve, was clearly the guy with connections who could get a truck, obtain petrol and conduct business all along the way.  We visited a few places in town – people were delighted to have a visitor.  And everything was way cool/groovy because it was like going back in time in some cases.  Obviously there haven’t been investments in new developments, but one thing I can say about Zimbabweans is they take pride in what they have and what they do (NOT something you can say about Mongolians – which I will go on about ad nauseum in another post).
We visited a music school which was pretty cool as they performed an impromptu concert on local instruments just because I was there (a visitor).  After that my driver had to do some business so he dropped me off in town for me to go about on my own and then meet back at the library.  I did my darndest to stay out of trouble and went to the Natural History Museum which was incredibly interesting and well preserved.  Clearly set up by the Brits and left to stay – it was fascinating to see exhibits frozen in time, untouched by recent scientific discoveries and updates.
I walked the streets a little bit and saw all the people walking along the big roads, hailing the few cars that drove by and never stopped.  Cars lined up miles long at gas stations that would only uncertainly ever pump gas.  These were desperate people making the best of times.
Eventually I got hungry and went into a supermarket to get some bread or something to eat.  Well, duh.  The aisles were empty except for a few unappealing canned goods.  Again, no petrol, no jobs, no food.  People were jobless and starving.  Those who weren’t burnt out of their homes at least weren’t homeless, too.  Mugabe was doing massive raids of “shanty towns” burning them down in flash blazes by night.  I smelled the fires.
The one challenge I had was I needed money.  I asked Steve to help me exchange the tremendous sum of $30 USD to Z$ so I could get around Harare when I arrived there next.  Eventually we met back up at the library and I plunked my bag in the back of the truck so we could move on to the next festivities and get my money exchanged.  It was maybe 4pm-ish and my train wouldn’t leave for Harare until late at night.  We drove to every guy on a street corner and white folk around town with no money, after no money, after no money (no money, no money, no – sing it now).  At some point a guy with a large gun jumped in the back.  That made me nervous.  I was sitting in the front seat while Steve went in some store to ask about exchanging the money and I suddenly thought, “crap, who’s the guy with the gun in the back.”  It didn’t seem to make sense to get out (not that I was sticking around for the $30 fortune) but hey, clearly my presence was being watched and the guy had a large gun.  Eventually Steve came back with a successful exchange.  I should mention that inflation there was beyond extreme (and there are ATM’s, but the street rate was 10 times + what the banks were offering).  Mugabe devalued the Z$ by the thousands in days and again in weeks.  They went from 40Z$ to 400000 Z$ in a month of devaluations.
No petrol, no jobs, no money, no food, no home.  No good.
Cash in hand, there were still maybe 4 hours to kill before the train departure to Harare.  So what to do, what to do.  I have no idea how this came up.  Steve and I had chatted all through the day.  He had kids, pretty sure they didn’t live with him though.  He explained how expensive it was putting them in school – paying for tuition, uniforms, books, etc.  I had forgotten how most other countries in the world do charge for those things – no matter how little money the residents (and that’s a whole other issue how people are counted/recognized as residents or citizens) had access to.
I’m not sure if it started with a dinner idea, or a place to hang out, really, I can’t remember.  Anyhow, we lost the guy with the gun in the back and drove back to his place (the guy with the gun was merely an assistant).  My thought was, we got along great, chatted about all kinds of things, dinner sounded good (hey, he had food), and what a treat it would be to visit a new neighborhood.  We drove for a bit of a while outside of town, yeah, maybe at that part I started to think hmmm.  Sure it was getting dark.  Well, we seemed to be driving through a normal looking neighborhood.  We got there and I don’t remember what I thought at first.  I realized the house was surrounded by a high metal fence with a gate.  The deal was, he would hold back the 2 pit bulls while I got through the locked fence and then into the locked gate in front of the front door space, which I quickly did.  Once the gate locked behind me as I was outside the front door and there were then 2 gates and 2 pit-bulls preventing my getting back out, I realized I was in deep.  This was the big oh sh$t what have I done now.  I pushed the envelop too far this time.
He fended off the dogs, got within the gate where I stood and let me in his place.  I felt like I was playing it cool, no doubt he could see beads of sweat.  I can’t exactly remember all the details.  Something like walk in, go left living room, go straight hallway to bathroom, kitchen left, bedroom right.  I had to use the bathroom.  Needed to collect my thoughts.  I heard him in the kitchen and thought ok.  So I walked out and we chatted in the kitchen.  He was preparing a stew he made from a fish he caught.
Steve was colored.  For those who haven’t been to Africa, Africans generally refer to themselves as colored if they are mixed black and white.  Steve told me about how he grew up and the experiences he had growing up colored.  Being colored he couldn’t swim in white kid pools.  He swam in run off, what sounded like sewage.  He didn’t have access to white folk schools.  He had scars on his face from where people had thrown stones at him and he had gotten into fights.  Being colored was something different there, although it sounded like the blacks were actually treated worse.  Soon the stew (delicious) was ready and we took our bowls out to eat in the living room where we turned on the tv and watched Oprah.
Sometime after that he took me back to the train station and offered to call his brother in Harare so I would have a place to stay when I arrived.
In a country where there is no petrol, no jobs, no money, no food, no homes for many; there is still an unrelenting sense of right, humanity and beauty.

Riots Schmiots

Sneak preview – content to be updated very soon…

The Moroccan Miracle

I suppose the real miracle is that I am finally adding content to the blog, but that’s not what this entry is about.  I just returned from 10 glorious days in Morocco – my first international travel in well over a year!   Just over a month ago I posted the desire for bright colors and wonderful scents on Facebook and my friend Tanya responded with yee ha and off we went.  The miracle is how we actually managed (after 10 years not seeing each other) to agree on where to go, book tickets, get on planes and actually have similar enough travel styles to have a successful trip!  This can not be underestimated.  She and I live in different states, have very different jobs and of course would have different ideas and comfort levels.  Not that I thought any of this through up front – all I could think was “excellent, we’re going to Morocco!”  Tanya and I picked up like no time had passed since seeing each other and off we went on our adventure.

No surprise, but I am very laissez-faire when it comes to travel/being on vacation.  I love waking up in the morning and just doing what the day has ahead for me – with plenty of time to smell cooking fires, avoid getting hit by motorcycles, eat French pastries, walk as far as my legs will carry me, and watch a slow sunset.  Morocco had all of that and went way beyond any expectations.  I can go on and on about Morocco, but really I’m most amazed by how great Tanya and I traveled together!  Just one example, in Casablanca we walked from the Hassan II Mosque along the seafront, through a wasteland with people picking through the rubbish heaps, to the finest restaurant in Casablanca for dinner.  A) We were most definitely the only patrons to ever arrive via that route (and possibly on foot), and B) Who other than Tanya would also take that route?  We got past the seafront, looked at the wasteland ahead, thought oh crap, looked at each other, looked back at how far we would have to walk back to walk around to a “better” route, looked at the wasteland, looked at each other, and went ahead. Let me tell you, there just ain’t many out there who would do that.

Alright, but on to details of Morocco.  To frame it up, we arrived in Casablanca, took the train to Marrakesh, spent 3 nights in Marrakesh, took to the Atlas mountains for 3 nights, returned to Marrakesh for a night, and then spent our last day and night in Casablanca.  There is plenty to tell.  Right away I can tell you my highlights were the mosque in Casablanca and the mountains.  Hands down I would bear the 24 hour trip (darn the connections) just to go back to the mountains and exactly to where we stayed.  Marrakesh was great, too, but I was blown away by the others.

You can check out my photos and I’ll add updates to an upcoming blog with the juicy details.

Home life in Hyderabad

Of course getting around in India isn’t always easy.  I remember buying my plane ticket to Hyderabad in Delhi at the Indian Airlines ticket counter as the lady held my passport in hand copying down all the info she needed to issue me a ticket.  She copied away and then looked up at me, passport in hand, and with no sarcastic intent asked “what country are you from?”.  I believe she also moonlighted with several IT call centers, but that’s neither here nor there.  It was one of those moments I remember so distinctly.  One of those are you serious? moments.  And that’s the other thing about India.  Just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re really not.  You’re right where you are at that moment.  With great patience I ultimately walked out with a ticket in hand and flew off shortly to one of India’s sophisticated cities.

Now this was a very special part of my trip.  My friend from Germany, Ravi, arranged for me to stay with his parents in Hyderabad because I wanted to see Hyderabad and I had heard so much about his family there.  They were absolutely lovely.  His parents took me all around the city visiting the Hyderabad markets, various monuments, a mosque and an ancient fort.  They spoiled me completely rotten and I had by far the best food of my trip there.  Ravi’s mom was an amazing cook with fantastic chutneys, biryani and vegetarian dishes.  I can’t give them enough thanks for their amazing hospitality.

One of the things they arranged was for me to have my hands painted which was done by a muslim woman (some judgment intended in the religious association – muslims and hindus aren’t yet kum bay ya’ing together).  Woman being 17 and married.  She was absolutely gorgeous with her lively green eyes and delicate features.  Amazing to think she was married at 17, and I don’t actually know how young she married.

All good things must come to an end and I had to get my ticket to fly from Hyderabad to Mumbai to catch my flight to Durban, SA (where upon my arrival my polite friends informed me a prompt shower would be best).  Yes, you know what that means.  But this time instead of going into an office, Ravi’s parents helped me purchase the ticket through their travel agent friend.  I honestly couldn’t tell you how many phone calls it took – a lot! – to accomplish this task.  I was surprised when the day before the flight I actually got the ticket.  Things happen in a whole different way there, even local to local.

Shall we meet in Varanasi वाराणसी?

I say yes. Yes to Varanasi.  Yes to many things.  I’m sure you’ve heard the saying “it’s not the things I did that I regret, it’s what I didn’t do” (or something to that effect).  I’ve always thought that saying was hooey.  I think it’s more like “say yes and things will become interesting”.

Before I continue, I must apologize. I left you hanging in Delhi a month ago.  Terrible me.  I realized I was going to hell when I let a 100 pound barefoot Malagasy man parade me through a city in his pousse-pousse as he painfully clutched to his masculinity and male pride trying not to look like he was going to keel over from the weight of me and my 40 pound backpack in his tow.  They do that on foot there – not as part of a bicycle or motorized contraption. It was at that instant I knew with no uncertainty that at the end of my days the flames of hell awaited my arrival.  Nonetheless, I can also be sorry for making you wait so long for the remainder of India.  Such a marvelous country, this India.

From Delhi to Agra by train.  They try many up-sells to Agra (they = tour books and of course travel agencies in Delhi) but there is really no need.  It’s a short train ride – something like 2 hours.  I chose to save the 50 cents and travel in 2nd class.  The train station personnel are always concerned about foreigners choosing something other than 1st class, but I decided to throw AC to the wind and let the open air breezes sweep through my ravishing hair.  Many people have asked me how to get train tickets in Delhi. There are several train stations and the lines can be confusing.  If you’re going someplace near-ish by, just go to the train station when you’re ready and look/ask.  If it’s somewhere farther away where trains might not go as often go ahead and try the train station or let the travel agent (and I use that term loosely) at/near your hotel book the ticket.  Maybe they make a few cents on the ticket, but it saves heat and hassle.  Tourists make a much bigger deal of this than is necessary.  Everything eventually happens in India and at no point in time will you have any control over the process.  Just accept that.

Once I arrived in Agra I saw what appeared to be a tour bus loading up and decided what the hey and asked what their dealio was.  Something like $10 and they would take me to the sites.  Would I normally do this?  No.  Quite simply because I like to decide my own time for visiting places, departing and arriving.  In this case I already heard all the tuk-tuks and taxi’s had fixed prices and they were higher for 1 person than just taking the tour bus – plus the idea of haggling fixed prices was not what I wanted to spend my day in Agra doing.  I hopped aboard the air-conditioned dream cruiser and set sail first for the magnificent Agra Fort.  Very big, impressive, daunting, imposing, regal.  I was impressed enough, but wait, there’s more.  Then we went on to (insert: trumpets trumpeting) the Taj Mahal aka “the Taj”.  The Taj is just one of those places, in my opinion, like the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall. No matter how often you’ve heard about it, what you’ve read or the movies you’ve seen, nothing can compare with seeing it in person.  It blows you away.  No matter how high your expectations are, you’re sure to be impressed.

You can read all about the Taj Mahal (eg http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taj_Mahal), but there’s nothing like seeing it in person.  The intricate details, the size, the beauty.  It’s definitely on my Things Everyone Should See Before They Die list.  It’s just one of those perspective-changing places.

Next, on to Varanasi the holy land.  But what fun would a trip to a holy land be without Mimi?  A question I frequently used to ask myself.  The answer is no fun at all (duh).  You may have read about Mimi in the Cast of Characters.  She’s the international traveleuress a go-go.  We bump into each other in the darndest places usually involving rivers and beer.  Vienna, London, Paris, Prague, Kirkland (eek), and in this case Varanasi.  Mimi was hanging out in India with her friendly cohort Seetal.  We of course did the sunrise boat cruise down the Varanasi.  I don’t have video ready for this site, yet, but one day it shall come.  I have the absolute coolest footage – we’re paddling along the river watching everyone bath in the holy water and come across a group of friendly men swimming madly towards us shouting “I love you!  I love you!”.  Clearly these very smart men knew a good thing when they saw it, but how funny it was to have this passionate group approaching through holy water.  Oh, and I could go on about what I’ve seen all over the world taking place in the name of holy/religion.  But that’s for another post.

Varanasi is more than just the Ganges.  It has a great Buddhist temple and some crazy nightlife, too.  One evening we were walking through a market area and for whatever reason we asked a ‘police’ officer something or he was pointing something out.  Anywho, we were following him as he was leading us through the market and we noticed that as he moved through the pathway of people and bicycles he would what seemed randomly (because who could tell what belonged to whom among the many) puncture tires with a small knife he held between fingers in one of his hands.  That seemed the strangest thing.  He was dressed as an officer, and I have no reason to believe he wasn’t an official something or other.  There he went exercising his power and puncturing tires whenever he seemed to feel the urge.  Could this be a method of exercising authority?  Punishment for not paying a sufficient bribe?  Simply random deviant behavior?  This sticks in my head because of its oddness, but I knew it was just a hint of what was to come in the international world of corruption.  More on that later.

What I should say about Varanasi to those who are planning a trip – wear a mask.  The fires really are a strain on the ole lungs.  And of course sucking on exhaust pipes is all one can do when getting around.

Cast of Characters

You will see names dropped throughout the blog posts, gallery and in photo captions. I will take some time to describe the cast of characters now so that you will feel in the know as you navigate the site. You’re one of us now.

Michelle – ah, Michelle. She has also been called Bernie and I’m sure a long list of other names. She’s a woman on the go always jetting off to some enticing isle or twisting a friend’s arm to get them to travel to some far flung destination with her. I have known her for some while now. Some while being 18 years. We have enough secrets on each other to remain friends regardless of what transpires. Michelle = friend. Countries visited with Michelle – US (we met originally in Seattle), Germany (where we worked together), Spain (where we frolicked in the sun), South Africa (where we wrote our names in the sand), Namibia (where we chased watering holes), Zimbabwe (where we enjoyed high tea), Botswana (where we climbed aboard a safari), Brazil (where we sunned our buns on the Copa), London (where she visited me while I lived there), France (for the Nice Carnival), Monte Carlo (for the gambling). I feel like I am missing countries. There must be more.

Vicky – A woman of standards. Yes, Vicky has standards so I’m afraid we haven’t traveled as often together. Oh that isn’t true, we traveled together as often as we could. We did Rio, Mallorca, Salzburg, Germany (where we worked), London (when she lived there) and the US.

Kristofer – A man of mystery. I met him in Madagascar and never figured him out. He’s a traveler who pretends on occasion to be civilized. He would much rather be out and about than home with friends enjoying regular life. I always thought it was strange how he would travel alone around the world taking photos of families, children, festivals and so on, but never staying in one place long enough to have for himself what fascinated him so much abroad. We traveled together on and off in Madagascar, Mongolia and a couple other countries.

Al, Mimi, Nadira, Kylie, Niklas and probably a few more – I originally met these people while studying in Lund, Sweden. Turns out both Mimi and I were shipped out on the UCLA study abroad program but it took a place as small as Lund for us to actually meet. We’ve bumped into each other around the world somewhat randomly – Prague, London, Paris, Varanasi. You never know where we’ll meet next. Kylie and Niklas are in Melbourne with their beautiful family. A family so beautiful I don’t know for sure if they ever really noticed I stayed in their back wing for nearly 3 weeks.

Sharon and Phil were so nice to meet me in Brisbane. Sharon and I originally met randomly in a bar in London (where no surprise Mimi also was!). Of course we were fast friends surviving the beat of the English street.

Houman – oh sweet, wonderful Houman. Gentle creature who makes me look entirely unworldly in comparison with him. He has traveled all around the world many, many times. He weekends in Rio, flies with the Dalai Lama and does many other amazing things. We’re both from LA, met in Sweden, and keep meeting up in different cities. We even spent time together in Bangkok during a coup.

Steve – Even family shall be named. Steve and I met in Bangkok for the coup while he was scandalously traveling in Asia. Lucky he even made it to Bangkok.

There are others escaping me at the moment. But this is what the world is entirely about – PEOPLE. The friends I have and the people I met along the way. It’s people that enrich the experience and make it memorable.

Just Sit Right Back and You’ll Hear a Tale – A Tale of a Fateful Trip

That started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship. Well, ok it wasn’t tropic and not exactly aboard a ship. In fact it was out of Munich aboard a 777 in Business Class on the way to Delhi. Word up. If you’re going to do it, do it in style. My entire trip was spent aboard luxury jetliners in comfort classes (not that Schweineklasse in the back), tin can propeller planes, rickety rickshaws, “pousse-pousses”, patched boats, bicycles, motorcycles, horses, camels or on foot. It’s all about variety, right? My auto-snooze turns on every time I hear about someone who traveled Asia on horseback. I also hear the sound of one hand clapping, but that may be due to some other malfunction. Travel is a sensory experience and I think should be done in as many ways as possible. Sure, do as the locals do as much as possible so you actually get to hang with locals instead of all the other ultra-independent backpackers herding together and clutching their Lousy Planets for dear life.

As I lead a blessed life, my dear friend, we’ll call her Michelle since that’s what her parents named her, extended certain shall we say benefits to me enabling me to travel the world in comfort classes at very low expense. So low you would literally have to sit on the ground and still look down. This played a tremendous role in my being able to experience the world in such vastness and for that I am very grateful.

With about a hundred printed tickets in hand I departed Munich for greater pastures (certainly not greener – if you’ve been to Munich you know they’re pretty green and of course choosing Delhi as the destination would make the idea of greener pastures quite ridiculous). There I sat in my business class seat – oh who are we kidding, that was only for meal time, otherwise I was fully reclined – and when I arrived in this great Delhi I was quickly invited into the chaos of life.

Once I arrived I met up with a couple other random travelers who were headed to the same part of town as me so we shared a taxi. After all, who could afford the $10 fortune on one’s own? A German, French and American sharing a taxi (who says world peas isn’t possible?).

It was glorious. We passed cows, elephants, tuk-tuks and pedestrians all while we were on the highway. In town was even grander. That’s the thing about India, it always gets better. So many people, such variety, the scent of spices, colorful saris and endless opportunities to get into trouble – and yet there it isn’t trouble.

The German got out at the clean hotel (Germans are raised to be very smart individuals) while the Frenchman and I continued on a short ways to that other part of town where hotel rooms were $3 and cock roaches were free. We were across from a theater. Oh, a theater you read. Well, if you read it that way, you don’t know a Bollywood theater. The lines, the amount of people that can be fit into one of those buildings. Of course the night we stayed there it caught fire – didn’t burn entirely down though so it was a successful show.

Delhi was just a couple nights and then more beckoned. It became time for Agra, Varanasi and soon Hyderabad.