Both Hands Up: Letters from Overseas

Dear 2010,

2010-12-31T08:20:00.000-08:00

It's 6:00 AM. December 31st, 2010. The last day of a year which began with floating lanterns in a small town in Northwest Thailand and will come to a close over champagne on the balcony of a friend's East London apartment. For now, however, I am lying wide-awake in my bed in West London with a severe case of jetlag and a sudden urge to take a survey of what has been the most transitional and certainly the most peripatetic (look it up) year of my life to date.

American Abroad - Some movies which feature Americans traveling abroad: The Talented Mr. Ripley, Hostel, Brokedown Palace, The Beach. My year has been like that, minus all the gruesome murder and jail time.

Big Friendly Dog - Just a head's up: if you're cycling near a wooded area and you see a big friendly dog running straight toward you...it may in fact be a bear. But don't worry, I found out recently that B.I.cycle carries bear spray. Just in Case.

Century of Centuries - 100 mile bike ride in 100 degree weather in 1 day. Bam. Gator Bite and Zeke: 1. Common sense: 0.

Dale Simmons - Have you met this girl? You'll laugh your ass off...and luckily for me, she was my saving grace my first few weeks/months in London.

Eleven - Countries visited

Fifty-Two Kilravock St. - The most lovely bunch of people I could ever imagine living with in London.

G-A-Y - The only place where you can see Katie Waissel perform live in front of hundreds of screaming gays. And Mark Pesavento get really really into crappy gay pop.

Hiking - Why do I ALWAYS have to poop on the way back down?

Islands - Spent a lot of time on Islands this year: Koh Tao, Koh Samui, Koh Phangan, Singapore, Java, Bali, Lombok, Gili Trawangan, Gili Air, Sumbawa, Flores, Tasmania, Iceland, Great Britain, and of course...Beautiful Bainbridge Island.

Justin&Emily - Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Kangaroos - Saw 'em. Ate 'em.

Loss - Sadly, my grandmother passed away on Christmas day this year. It is a great loss for my family, and especially for my mother. Loss, but also Love.

Manual transmission - I won't go as far as to say I learned how to drive stickshift this year...

but I will say I drove it.

Niece - Got to hang with the bro and Evan this summer. Favorite memories: all of them.

Open Heart Surgery - My dad had two potentially life threatening surgeries this year, and managed to coast through both of them like a real trooper. He's basically now the bionic man.

Petronas Towers - So tall.

Queen's Park Farmer's Market - I officially gave up my pescadarianism this year to become what I call a "Conscientious eater." Eating responsibly sourced, organic meats and produce, and cooking most meals has been a huge boost for my conscience and my health.

Restroom - Best bar name ever...and the site of my 2010 New Year Countdown.

Staph Infection - Something I learned this year: always treat coral scratches as if they are infected. 7 months later, after about 6 isolated breakouts and about 10 different courses of insufficient antibiotics...I managed to kick the bastard. Knock on wood.

Trigger fish - Advanced Open Water Diver...show 'em your guns!

UCL - So, so, so happy to be back in school, in a discipline I love. All that 2009 scrambling with applications definitely paid off.

Vows - Flew to Kansas for Tim and Jill's wedding. The wedding was wonderful...the Embassy Suites was the real show stopper.

Washington - Despite my incessant wandering, I managed to root myself in my home state for 4 months this summer, and as my friend in the airport pointed out: I'm a true blue Washingtonian.

X-Factor - Two words: Katie Waissel

Year-end - As the end of 2010 draws nigh, I can't help but be thankful for all the wonderful friends and family who have helped me, supported me, loved me, taught me, given me, and shown me so much love and happiness this year. Tonight I will raise my glass to 2010 and to my travel companions, my friends new and old, my family, and myself.

Zed - Hynam gave me shit when I called it A to Zee.

Happy New Year Everyone!

Dear Emilia Elizabet La Mantequilla es Fria y Guapa Kroman,

2010-11-20T04:46:00.000-08:00

I should be writing a paper right now. I just want to make that clear. Because I should have written this paper when I was in Spain. But guess what I found out recently... three years out of school actually makes you a better procrastinator. And the truth is...Spain didn't help my cause too much.

Excuse me for using the word Spain. I should, of course, be writing Espana. But I know if I do that, I'm going to start typing Ethpana, and then we will have to have that conversation again. So Spain it is. But not without reservation.

This post is turning into a list of excuses, which probably goes hand in hand with the whole procrastination thing, but while I'm at it: You will note that there has not been a posting about London yet on my blog. Fact is - I live here now and it's a lot harder to turn your everyday experiences into a gripping exotic travel blog entry. I'm not saying that my life hasn't been eventful, or that there will never be a blog entry about London....I'm just really enjoying the whole excuse thing right now.

Spain

As you may recall, in the UK, fall break is called: reading week. Ha. That's a euphemism if I've ever heard one. I decided to "read" in Marbella, Spain, where I hoped to catch a few final rays of mediterranean sunshine before the onset of what I have a feeling will be a long grey winter. Lucky for me, I wasn't the only one hoping to get out of London for the first time since arriving in September, and I was joined by three (relatively) new friends: Dale, Puya and Chloe.

Not gonna lie: the vacation began in the airport, where Dale attempted to bring a 15 kg bag on a 10 kg limit plane. Fantastic. After about 20 minutes of awkward laughing and a whole slew of unamused looks from the lady behind the desk, Dale managed to get her 11.7 kg bag through the bag check as she waddled off toward the gate wearing 3 jackets, 2 sweatshirts, 3 books, all her toiletries, a computer charger, a pair of shoes down her back, and god knows what else. I pretty much peed myself.

In Spain, the laughing didn't stop. Sometimes it even erupted for no particular reason. And without further ado...I give you: Dale.

Marbella is on the southern coast of Spain and if you own a yacht and like to wear skinned animals and loop sweaters over your shoulders, you'll fit right in. We, on the other hand, rented a car and made our way around Andalucia from Cadiz and Sevilla to Granada and the hills around Ronda. And if anyone asks from the rental car company....Yes, I have driven stickshift before, just like I read during reading week. If, however, someone from the line of cars piled up behind me on the ridiculously steep hill that I have stalled half way up asks...the answer is: everyone has to learn at some point....so please stop honking because I'm about to have a panic attack/slash break the clutch/slash roll the car directly into your impatient face. (but you have to translate it into Spanish first...and pronounce it with a saucy lisp).

I found that the best way to calm down from experiences like this was to focus on the natural beauty of Spain and in particular: the small things.

3 cheers for macro setting! Really, though, the entire week was just a big excuse to relax and drink wine and eat paella and do a whole lot of nothing. And that's exactly what we did.

Dear James,

2010-10-03T06:09:00.000-07:00

You've known me since we were 7 years old, so I'm sure it won't come as a shocker to hear that my curiosity has gotten the better of me again and I am off to explore once more.

Nor will it come as a surprise that my life has begun to mimic that game I used to play as a kid where I would spin a globe and put my finger down somewhere randomly to see where I was going to (hypothetically) end up. Well this time, the globe landed on Iceland. Iceland. Go figure. So here I am, with my mother, in the frigid Icelandic wind, struggling with a years worth of luggage (This is just a week long stop on the trans-global relocation project that is my life.), just a short jaunt south of the arctic circle...and I'm thinking to myself: I have got to stop playing that game.

But then of course, it's 3 AM my time and perhaps in the morning things will look a little...less bleak.

They do.

Everyone knows the funny little irony that is Iceland and Greenland. You know, how Iceland is really green, and Greenland is really covered in ice. Well, I can't speak for Greenland, but Iceland is not green. Iceland is blue, red, brown, black, grey, gold, white and green. Really green. Like, how-does-a-country-with-no-trees-or-agriculture-to-speak-of-get-so-green green. So, after a little shuteye, my mom and I set out to discover what makes Iceland so colorful. (and by a little shut eye, I obviously mean we accidently overslept by like 4 hours on the first day...because let's be honest...it was me and my mom).

BLUE

As any bachelorette can tell you, it isn't a trip to Iceland without a dip in the Blue Lagoon. So without delay, mom and I hopped in our little rental car (the company ominously named: SAD cars) and beelined it for the geo-thermal spa famed for it's constant 100 degree temperature and aquamarine blue color.

We couldn't have planned our late start better, arriving just as all the tourist buses were pulling away. Not to mention that we got there just in time to book the last two in-water massage and salt scrub appointments. If you have never experienced an in-water massage...do.

Although, take a tip from mom...

...getting back on your feet can be a bit awkward.

RED (ish)

As you might expect from a place with geo-thermal spas, there is quite a bit of volcanic activity in Iceland. Or maybe the recent eruption of Eyjafjallajokull gave it away. However you figured it out, the rumors are true. And you can't really go anywhere in Iceland with out accidently wandering into a volcano.

Exhibit A:

Make sure to note the location of the "you are here" black dot. Right there nuzzled in the heart of the "Virk megineldstöð." Translation: Active Central Volcano. Don't worry though...I was traveling with the fearless D Sharon Osborne, who laughs in the face of volcanoes.

BROWN, BLACK, GREY

You would be surprised by how beautiful these colors can be when they take on the form of endless blacksand mud flats, plunging brown crevasses that literally penetrate the earth's crust (this is where the European and American continental plates are ripping apart), and miles and miles of rolling landscapes covered in a grey-green moss that make the scenery look as though it is perpetually stuck in the hour of sunlight just before dusk.

GOLD

Yeah, you read that right: Gold. The golden circle of Iceland is a loop drive that includes some pretty amazing waterfalls, the original geysir (called...."Geysir"), and the site of the first Icelandic viking parliament at Þingvellir. We aren't ones to brag, but with our SAD little car, we managed to make every stop and then some for a fraction of the price of the multiple daytours leaving from Reykjavik.

And we made it with only one or two wrong turns.

Mom and I call this picture: Don't tell dad.

WHITE

There is so much to do and see in Iceland that despite its small size, in one week, we only managed to cover the south and southwest of the country. Fortunately, however, we managed to make it as far East as Skaftafell and Jökulsárlón, both part of Europe's largest glacier: Vatnajökul. Certainly the highlight of our trip...I think the pictures speak for themselves (and trust me...this IS me narrowing it down).

GREEN

Green is the color of nature...and I don't think you could pick a better place to go searching for a little natural wonder than this incredible island.

And, James, if you are wondering if I had the CKY2K song stuck in my head the entire time...the answer, unfortunately, is yes.

Dear Patrick,

2010-09-03T13:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the advice.

So, I've decided that maybe the best way to fall in love with a place is to experience it as a 13 hour intensive on little to know sleep. Okay, that may seem a bit extreme, but it worked in Seoul and now that I am back in the states, I can officially say that Seoul is the best city (that I have been to) in Asia.

Elaborate? okay.

I started my day watching the sun rise on the 14th of May from my window seat somewhere between Hanoi, Vietnam and Seoul, South Korea. Upon touching down, I hopped a bus that dropped me off right downtown in front of the most informative and free tourist info-center I have ever been to. I am pretty sure I said the phrase "all free?" about 27 times before I left stocked full of maps and literally books on things to do in the city. Books. Obviously, only the most important things caught my eye:

As I walked around the city, I kept thinking about how clean and friendly everything seemed. Now, obviously, I understand the difference between cities in countries with flourishing economies vs. the not-so prosperous. But there was something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. And then it came to me. Motorbikes. There were no motorbikes in Seoul. Now, don't get me wrong, despite my recent catastrophe, I remain a big fan of the motorbike, but after 5 months of choking back exhaust and near-death street crossings, the lack of Honda Waves was...refreshing.

After a few temple visits,

a couple of free museums,

and some aimless, yet enjoyable, wandering,

I decided it was time for lunch. How do you pick where to eat lunch in Seoul? Follow the flocks of businessmen. I ended up sitting at a low table, shoeless, on a pillow eating the most incredible mystery meal (nobody spoke english) I had eaten in a long time. I think there was Kim Chee involved...but this is just a guess.

Perhaps if I'd thought to take the picture before I gorged...I might have better luck with identification. Oh well, the point is: it was good. After lunch, on a whim, I walked about a mile down a random street with no intended destination, only to stumble across a traditional drumming and singing class attended by the friendliest old Korean women who invited me in, gave me a drum, and sang for me.

If only I had more time, I probably would have signed up for a year's worth. After my old lady jam sesh, I started making my way back through the market, down the river walk (which was incredibly serene considering it is in the dead center of a huge, jostling city), and through a giant memorial celebration. At last, I was back at my favorite little tourist info-center, where I unnecessarily returned my borrowed literature, and hopped a bus back to the airport.

But, don't fool yourself into thinking that the day in Seoul stopped there. Back at Incheon airport, I still had time to take a much-needed shower and even do a little arts and crafts...for old time sake.

And then, at the end of 138 days on the road, it was time to head home.

But not before seeing the sun rise on the 14th of May one more time as I crossed the International Date Line. Now there's something you don't see twice every day.

Dear Nora,

2010-08-06T22:53:00.000-07:00

An ode to Carhartts:

They said you were too heavy.

They said you took up a third of my bag.

They said you were too hot.

That I would never wear you.

That you wouldn't come in handy.

They said I was being stubborn.

But they didn't see it coming.

And when I crashed my motorbike on the streets of Hanoi

You saved my life.

Dear Tammie, Emily Lee, and Amanda Nicol,

2010-07-19T15:53:00.000-07:00

There were supposed to be three more posts to cover the rest of my trip in Vietnam. Each with a theme which directly related to one of the three of you. But for the sake of EVER getting back on track, I have combined those three posts into one MEGA-Post. So without further ado, I give you Vietnam in 10 stops or less:

1. Dalat:

Please note my reaction at 1:03 to the fact that, surprise! the rope doesn't go all the way down. Uh, what? I have to jump....from here? Well if that's the case...why don't I just make it an extremely painful spread eagle back flop. Great idea. Welcome to Dalat. My first stop on my Vietnamese journey north. Aside from partaking in adventure sports like this canyoning trip, I also visited a silk factory (yes, Tammie, you heard right) and began an affectionate relationship with Vietnamese drip coffee during unexpected torrential downpours.

Hi: Winning solitaire on my first try during torrential downpour while sipping first Vietnamese coffee

Lo: Winning solitaire on my first try during torrential downpour...now what?

Hero: Friendly Vietnamese/American who translates "I am allergic to MSG" for me so I don't die later on in this trip...

2. Mui Ne:

Mui Ne is a little tourist beach town on the southern Vietnamese coast. Originally, the plan was to skip over Mui Ne, but then again, when you are traveling alone, the "original plan" is a phrase often used only to compare with the "on a whim, cause I feel like it, why not plan." And of course, it was the latter which boarded me on a bus to the coast.

Hi: Lemongrass Tofu and a good book at a table on the beach

Lo: Leaving my ATM card in the ATM machine. Again.

Hero: Jung, the little boy who took me sledding in the sand dunes.

3. Hoi An:

I had been waiting four months to arrive in Hoi An. And four days later when I said goodbye, my bag was heavier by 3 pairs of custom designed shoes, two tailored suits, three shirts, four skinny ties, a vest, a winter coat and a pair of slacks. Not to mention that the fact that I got to go diving, eat incredible food (some of the cheapest at that) and happened across the lantern festival, when there is a mandatory power outage (save decorative lanterns) in the whole town and they float candles down the river.

Hi: When the french woman thought I was french, and then when I said, "american" she assumed Quebecois. Yesssssss.......

Lo: No electricity during Lantern Festival also means no fan in room at night.

Hero: My tailor. Excellent fit.

4. Marble Mountains - Hue - Dong Hoi

Caves, caves and more caves. And an elephant. There's nothing like a trip to Southeast Asia to rearrange your life plan. But after some careful considerations, I have decided that when I grow up (still saying that by the way) I want to be Indiana Jones. Or Lara Croft. But the latter may prove to be slightly more difficult.

Hi: Drinking and arm-wrestling with my hotel owner and his brothers. weird.

Lo: Note to self-when you get off the beaten path...bring an extra book...because reading english-vietnamese dictionaries are not thrilling...to say the least

Hero: The founder/owner of "QB teen" in Dong Hoi, because sometimes a hot dog and fries can make EVERYTHING better.

5. Sapa:

From Dong Hoi, I hopped on a sleeper bus to Hanoi, where I met up with Tom, an Aussie friend I made while canyoning in Dalat. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was loading a rented motorbike onto a night train while drinking Vietnamese Rice Vodka mixed with fanta in homemade aquafina bottle cups. Classy....

Sapa is incredibly beautiful. And having your own transportation makes it that much more striking as you climb through the cloud-covered mountains of Northern Vietnam. It took us about three times as long to make it from the train station in Lao Cai to the mountain town of Sapa, as we kept stopping to take in the the views. Once in Sapa, we had plenty of time to explore the little french-influenced town, interact with the local hill tribes, and partake in some pretty harrowing meals. Yes, you read correctly. Because you see, when you walk back to the bathroom by way of the kitchen, and see this:

You start to wonder which cage contributed to your lunch.

Hi: Learning how to count to 10 in H'mong

Lo: Allowing myself to be convinced to eat baby bird shish kebab fricasee. Does it get lower than that?

Hero: The guy who drove a motor bike with one hand, while holding a stick with live snake tied to the end of it in the other.

6. The Frontier:

With 5 days more to roam around on my motorbike, Tom and I decided to hit the road. Destination: the frontier. ooooooooooooooo. The Frontier is an area in the Ha Giang province in the far North of Vietnam. Right on the Chinese border. If you are not Vietnamese, you need a special permit to enter the zone, and getting that permit can be a real pain....just ask Tom. But it is so incredibly worth it. As you drive around on roads that are practically untouched by outsiders, you wind through various terrains from dirt red river valleys to black stony cliffs, green carved out mountainous peaks to the occasional unpaved thigh deep muddy slip'n'slide they call a road. And at the end of the path: China.

Hi: Surviving a 20 mile, 4 hour, unmarked, unpaved, obstacle course detour on a manual motorbike.

Lo: Crashing my motorbike in Hanoi, only 10 km from the end of our 9 day journey.

Hero: My carhartts for saving my body and my helmet for saving my life. (see next post)

7: Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island:

Nursing my wounds, I headed off on a 3-day pleasure cruise of Ha Long Bay. Sometimes after a traumatic experience like my motorbike crash, there is nothing better than a little R&R&K (rest and relaxation and karaoke). And while the picture above suggests quiet serenity, in my mind it says only one thing: Tom Jones, baby.

Hi: Keeping everyone on the boat awake with the fine karaoke stylings of Tom Jones' Sexbomb.

Lo: When the electricity went out, and cut us off right in the middle of our Sexbomb karaoke reunion tour the second night.

Hero: John Buckell. Never will I have a karaoke partner with such fine attention to the artistic subtleties of Sexbomb.

8, 9, 10. Hanoi:

I actually went to Hanoi 3 different times, but for the sake of clarity, I will combine them into one brief but telling experience. Perhaps you will recall from my previous post, that my travels in Vietnam begin and end with a snake. Well after 28 days of beach bumming, mountain climbing, waterfall scaling, mystery-food eating, unabashed shopping, karaoke singing, biking, hiking, diving and a handful of narrow brushes with an ill-fated death, on my last evening in Hanoi, I came face to face with an old friend. Hello snake. Hello Adam. Nice to meet you. Nice to eat you.

And in case that didn't do it for you. Perhaps this will do the trick:

Hi: Vietnam

Lo: Leaving Vietnam

Hero: The snake.

Dear Tracy,

2010-06-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

Hello, Vietnam!

To be perfectly honest, I wrote those words, "Hello, Vietnam!" about a month and a half ago. At the time, I was sitting in an internet cafe in a town called Dalat in the highlands of the South Central Vietnam. My internet connection was flickering in and out, and my photos took about 20 minutes to upload. Each. Currently, I am back in the U.S., sitting on my mac with all of my photos pre-uploaded and a lightning-fast internet connection. And for some reason it is now the words that are coming at 20 minute intervals. Nonetheless, if you will humor me by putting on your time-traveling hat (rice hats acceptable) and turning off your squeamers (I made this word up, but have grand plans of adding it to the urban dictionary ASAP) : this story begins and ends with a snake.

With one month left of my travels abroad, I knew from the start that I wanted to make the most of my time in Vietnam. It was all about staying active: Doing rather than Watching. Saying "yes" when I might otherwise say "ehhhh...." And this brilliant philosophy is how I ended up with this huge snake around my neck....and arms....and legs...and ahem. Carpe Diem. Or in this case: Carpe Giant Snake.

To get to this point, however, I had to survive a Saigon monsoon of epic proportions, a not-so-pleasant reminder that I am most definitely allergic to MSG, and the heat of a thousand blazing suns. Or at least one blazing sun...but I promise it was a really really hot one. Leaving Saigon, I headed south into the Mekong Delta, where I had every intention of making my big sis proud and taking off on a three day bike ride through the delta. Unfortunately, the janky bike I rented, the aforementioned sun, and the heavy traffic, did not agree that this was the best idea ever. Instead, 3 days became 1. But it was nice to get out of the town and onto the back roads. And judging by the stares and gaping jaws I elicited, I would say it was as novel for the locals as it was for me.

The next day, I checked out a couple floating markets, which are really convenient if you have an urge to purchase 500 dragonfruits.

And while I wasn't in the market for dragonfruit...I did finally try durian. For those of you who are unfamiliar with durian - stay that way. The taste is somewhere just in between rotten pineapple and gasoline. A little closer to the gasoline side. Now toss in the consistency of a slime mold and you've got yourself a Southeast Asian delicacy. And an Adam retching on the side of the road.

If I had to make a wild guess...I would say this sign reads: Don't eat this god-awful fruit. Ever. Or something to that extent. After recovering from that nauseating experience, I decided to pamper myself a bit with a haircut, massage and, always intrigued by local medicinal practices, a little cupping:

But don't worry, I didn't go quite as extreme as this guy:

From the delta, I headed back north through Saigon on my way up to Dalat...where I learned that arriving in a town where you don't speak the language at 3:30 AM without hotel reservations...is not the most prudent of actions. But that brings me to another sister of mine....

Dear Faithful Readers,

2010-05-03T04:34:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone! As you have probably noticed, my blog has fallen a bit behind real time, and with less than 2 weeks left before I return to Seattle, I have made the executive decision to spend the rest of my time focusing on making the most of my trip (rather than fighting unreliabel internet connections and painfully slow photo uploads).

But don't fret! I will have plenty of free time when I get home to fill everyone in on my experiences in Vietnam this month--which have certainly been a highlight of my trip.

Lastly, I figured I would take this time to officially announce that I have made the decision to take off overseas again in the fall! I will begin graduate studies in medical anthropology at University College London in September. I am certainly looking forward to the big move, and all the continuing adventures it will be sure to bring.

Thank you again to everyone that has been following my blog...and be sure to check back in a couple of weeks to read all about Vietnam (and a special one-day side trip to a mystery location!)

Adam

Dear Alison,

2010-04-15T04:42:00.000-07:00

Recipes from the Nullarbor

     1. Top Ramen
          a. Light camping stove with a minimum of 32 matches
              as the wind never stops on a treeless plain.
          b. Watch the water boil…because there is nothing
              more interesting.
          c. Put in noodles and flavoring packet.

d. Serve hot…with pepper.

     2. PB&J
          a. Don’t even suggest that you are eating this
              sandwich to an Australian. They will look at
              you like you are insane

          b. Spread peanut butter and Jam (Jelly=Jell-o)
              on any semi-flat carb-containing substance you
              can afford.

          c. Eat.
3. Pasta a la desert
          a. See 1.
          b. For sauce, combine chopped tomato with
              italian seasoning packet and oil in saucepan.
          c. If you were thinking about adding any other
              vegetables…think again…they got apprehended
              at one of the multiple fruit-fly inspection stops.
          d. Combine pasta and sauce. Serve hot…with pepper
4. Fajitaustralias
          a. Black beans/pinto beans do not exist in Australia…
              much less in nowheresville Australia.
          b. Tortilla, chopped veggies (before the checkpoints),
              and the satay flavored rice you purchased for $1.50.
          c. Add chalky burrito seasoning.
          d. Serve hot…with pepper.
5. Trail Mix
          a. Eat at least 20 servings per day…to ease the boredom.
6. Easter Brunch/Dinner
          a. Select one of options 1-4
          b. Supplement with option 5
          c. Throw in melted chocolate bilby
          d. Seve hot...with a sense of humor

Well. You can imagine my joy when we hit our first town that had more than a gas station, an overpriced tourist shop and a gigantic fiberglass animal of sorts.

After three consecutive 10 hour days (I think...it got a little confusing with the 30 minute time change, followed by a 45 minute time change...and then yet another 45 minute time change) we pulled into Albany, Western Australia. In other words: we didn't die in the outback. In fact, I was so happy, that I just had to jump for joy!

After a recovery day on one of the multiple secluded and surprisingly deserted beaches of WA, we headed into the national parks of the Southwest where the tingle trees rise to incredible heights. So high...that I had to see it to believe it. And that is how I ended up over 180 ft. in the air standing on a metal rod the size of a pool cue.

Apparently, the fact that I had just survived a three day trek across the desert wasn't daring enough for me. But really, I couldn't think of a better way to have spent my 100th day on the road!

The other highlight of the tree climbing experience, was the 45 minutes I spent heckling from the bottom with a couple of friends I made on the climb (a right of passage, I think). In addition to some witty comments, these friends also offered a very wise bit of advice: there is a chocolate factory in Margaret River where you can eat as much chocolate as you want.

Uh...sign me up.

Turns out, Margaret River is also WA's prime wine country. So, Denise and I went on a little sampling frenzy. Here's a picture of Denise enjoying a fine Shiraz.

Oops...maybe I should go back to just the chocolate...

From Margaret River, we headed up to Perth: my final destination in Australia. And who better to meet up with than my new bestest: Jane.

If the face looks familiar...that's because Jane made an appearance in my blog back in January during our travels together in Thailand. And here in Perth, the adventures didn't stop. I got to explore the Funky Flare of Fremantle, the Killer Panoramas from Kings Park, and Jane even took me on a Rockin' day-trip to Rottnest Island, where we did a little biking, a little snorkling, a little animal watching and a whole lot of beach bumming.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Goodbye DangerDoom

Goodbye Jane

Goodbye Perth

Goodbye Australia

Dear Mia,

2010-04-02T08:28:00.000-07:00

(I think this story could benefit from a little illustrating...)

Once upon a time there was a campervan named DangerDoom.

When DangerDoom was young, he had made many journeys all across Australia, but nowadays, he mostly sat in a caged parking lot guarded by his wicked owners on the outskirts of Sydney, dreaming about his glory days. Some might say that DangerDoom was a bit intimidating, due to his tough name and a rough exterior, but the truth is: DangerDoom also had a soft side.

One day, two unlikely friends, Adam and Denise, showed up at DangerDoom's wicked lair and invited him on one last cross Australia Adventure Extravaganza! DangerDoom was so excited that he promised them both that he would show them all of his favorite parts of the Southern coast of Oz. And to prove it, he took them straight away to the world famous Sydney Opera House, Sydney Harbour Bridge and Bondi Beach.

Over the next few days, as Denise and Adam explored the Blue Mountains and Melbourne, DangerDoom showed them all his tricks and secrets. Of course he was very proud of the fact that he came equipped with inside and outside eating areas, a propane stove, pump sink and kitchen storage. He also had secret compartments for storing bags and supplies, 4WD, and a nifty gauge that would make sure that he wouldn't overheat. He even had a BED!

There was so much to show, DangerDoom may have forgotten to share one little secret. But with all the excitement...who could blame him? With all the scenery to discover on the Great Ocean Road, it's easy to forget a thing or two.

But eventually, DangerDoom's secret would have to come out...and just East of the South Australia border, it finally did: Uh..oh... Electrical problems!

DangerDoom didn't mean it, but everytime Adam flicked on the brights, DangerDoom fell asleep for about 2 seconds. hmmmmm.... And then the next day, DangerDoom was SO sleepy, he had to be given a jolt every time he stopped driving. Even if it was just to get gas! Well, with no delay, Adam and Denise took DangerDoom straight to Adelaide to have him looked at in the Wicked clinic. While Adam and Denise enjoyed the parks and markets of Adelaide, DangerDoom got a little bit of R&R...(and a new electrical thingy). Phew! Let's get back on the road again!

But first, a quick stop off in Kimba! One of DangerDoom's favorite roadside wonders!

At long last, came the part of the cross-Australia Adventure Extravaganza that many without DangerDoom's courage and experience would dread...the Nullarbor! This 2000 km stretch of flat bushland is just what the name would imply: Null arbor...No Trees! (and no towns, and no people, and no radio stations, and pretty much no nothin'):

And while it may have started off all smiles, as the km's racked up...Adam and Denise started to wonder:

Would they make it the long distance?

Could they avoid the treacherous local wildlife?

Are there really camels in Australia?

And did DangerDoom have any more sneaky secrets under his hood?

To be continued......

Dear Miranda,

2010-03-27T01:31:00.000-07:00

Looked for you everywhere.

Had a lovely picnic though.

Dear George, Sandy and that pitcher of Sam Adams Summer Ale,

2010-03-23T00:39:00.000-07:00

Midway is a small local bar in the middle of Ashford, CT. It is also the place where 10 months ago, a homesick Aussie made a promise to the two people sitting on either side of her at the bar that if they came to Australia, her dad would take them on an outback adventure. Lots of hypothetical plans have been made at midway over the years. Only one that I know of ends up like this:

Welcome to Outback, New South Wales!

Where emu's roam, ancient human (and mega fauna) remains abound, and you can actually see the curve of the earth over the Mundy Mundy Plains. And don't even get me started on the flies.

Before heading off into the red center, however, we had to await the arrival of our third member of the Summer Ale pact: Denise. And her arrival couldn't have been planned better, as St. Patrick's Day was just around the corner. So we did what we are good at and celebrated in style:

In fact, we made such a big impact in the land down under...we made the local news. Yep, we are kind of a big deal.

And thus began our outback adventures! Our first stop was Mungo National Park home to the remains of a people who lived over 50,000 years ago. And also home to a lot of flies. Now, I don't want to distract from the historical importance of Mungo Lake, but it is a little hard to think clearly when there are about 50 flies crawling into your mouth, up your nose and over your eyeballs. In fact, it's pretty hard to do anything other than this:

Luckily, Craig came prepared:

Ahhhh....much better!

Now, properly attired, we headed further into the center. Passing gigantic wedge-tailed eagles, flocks of rare red-tailed cockatoos and who knows what else was hiding out there...

After about 1000 km cruising along the mighty Murray River and up the Darling, we landed in our ultimate destination: Broken Hill. Anyone that has had the great fortune of seeing Priscilla Queen of the Desert will remember Broken Hill from the epic standoff in the Palace Hotel between the local miners and the Sydney drag queens. Today, the actual broken hill, sitting just on the edge of town, has been turned completely inside out, a reminder of the former glory of the mining town. While a few mines still run, they are mostly shut down relics like this one

Strangely enough, in the place of the old mining boom, Broken Hill and its surrounding have found themselves in the center of a new art boom. The pinnacle of which being the Broken Hill Sculpture Garden. Armed with champagne, cheese and crackers (typical miner's fare) we made it to the site just in time for sunset.

Other highlights from the trip included: a visit to the Royal Flying Doctors Service hangar, a class session of the School of the Air (computer based schooling for isolated farm children), Silverton (think mad max), and of course some sand dune shenanigans:

Believe it or not, after a month based in Victoria, the return from Broken Hill marked the end of my time with the Iskovs. A sad day indeed. But thank you, thank you, thank you to Craig, Kay, Megan, Brylie and Richard for putting up with me and offering me a home quite literally on the other side of the world.

Dear Japhy (and Kat and Dave)

2010-03-14T07:55:00.000-07:00

"Ah Japhy, you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can't fall off a mountain."

-Jack Kerouac Dharma Bums

I am not a huge Kerouac fan. And I am even less of a fan of people who quote Jack Kerouac on travel blogs. But recently, as I was scaling boulders solo on the peak of Cradle Mountain, this quote resonated in my head. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be comforting or if it was more of an internal taunt. Nevertheless, it did the trick and my reward was this incredible view of the Tasmanian Western Wilderness.

But I have jumped the gun a bit. Rewind to the first week of March when I am trying to plan a driving trip from Brisbane to Sydney. Enter cyclone. Exit that idea. Luckily, Kay Iskov (Megan's mum (I'm getting good as at Aussie slang by the way)) suggested Tasmania as an option. Now, as an American here is what I know about Tasmania:

And that about sums it up. So as you can imagine...there was a certain amount of intrigue. Fastforward now, and I am sitting in a huge botanical garden in a quaint little seaside port on the southern coast of Tasmania with cockatoos flying over my head trying to decide which of the "60 Great Bushwalks" in the more than 20 national parks I would try to hit in my week-long circumnavigation of what I would soon coin: "Nature's best kept secret." With no time to waste, I headed to my first chosen destination:

Cape Huay, Tasman Peninsula, Tasman National Park

Believe me, it's even higher than it looks. Which is particularly harrowing when you consider the fact that I was racing sunset and spent the last 45 minutes of my bushwalk in the dark. After a great start, I set off up the coast and found a great place to camp right on the beach. Ultimately, I hit nine national parks in five days. Here are just some of the highlights:

Tasmanian Devil Crossing, Tasman Peninsula

Apparently they are real...and ferocious!

Wineglass Bay, Freycinet National Park

Often ranked as one of the world's top 10 beaches

Douglas Apsley National Park

Where I may or may not have gotten scared of snakes and turned around...

Bay of Fires Conservation Area

At sunset the rocks glow orange and red and if you take enough picture your camera will run out of batteries....oops.

Cradle Mt. from Dove Lake, Cradle Mountain National Park

My hike went from where I took this photo to the top of the first hill on the right, back behind to the base of Cradle Mt., up to the furthest peak to the right, back down to the dip of the cradle, across to the peak on the left and then back down around the left hand side of the lake.

Cradle Mt. Summit Trail Marker, Cradle Mt. National Park

You can't fall off a mountain, but you can roll your ankle twice once you've gotten back down to the bottom. Thank God for icy mountain streams...

Dove Lake from the Cradle, Cradle Mt. National Park

Day 74 is definitely in my top 5

Fallen Log over River, Wild Rivers National Park

Let's face it...not every timed shot can be a winner.

Platypus Bay, St. Clair National Park

Platypus observation is great...you should try it...it's very similar to dancing with ferries and riding unicorns, all you need is some water and a couple free hours to waste staring into oblivion. But make sure you are very very quiet...we wouldn't want to scare away all the nothings.

Mt. Field National Park

If you want to see Australian wildlife, Tasmania is the place to be. Wombats, echidnae, wallabies, yellow-tailed cockatoos, kangaroos, quolls (Hey, Megan...did you hear I saw a quoll?) and of course my buddy the pademelon. This guy let me hang out with him from about 2 feet away while he munched on the grass.

Strathgordon, Southwest National Park

This place is so remote that the only radio station I got on either AM or FM was in Spanish. Bromas aparte.

Basically, I loved Tasmania. And, to be honest, I think a big part of it has to do with the fact that in all its beauty and diversity...it kept reminding me of all of my favorite parts of Washington. This is a place to re-connect to the outdoors and experience the fullness of nature. Forgive me, but I feel a Kerouac quote emerging:

"I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling."

-Jack Kerouac Dharma Bums

And while I never did come across one of these:

I did get the opportunity to meet this fella:

"In fact with one of my greatest leaps and loudest screams of joy I came flying right down to the edge of the lake and dug my sneakered heels into the mud and just fell sitting there, glad. Japhy was already taking his shoes off and pouring sand and pebbles out. It was great. I took off my sneakers and poured out a couple of buckets of lava dust and said, 'Ah Japhy, you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can't fall off a mountain.'

'And that's what they mean by the saying, When you get to the top of a mountain keep climbing, Smith.'"

Dear Becky Haynes,

2010-03-07T21:06:00.000-08:00

In 3rd grade, I wrote a gripping report on "The Eastern Grey Kangaroo." Now, it may not have sold a million copies, but after working tirelessly to cut out photocopies of kangaroos and paste them to multi-colored construction paper, I must admit that Miss Connelly deemed it worthy of a check/plus (that's right...a check/PLUS). Frankly, I'm kind of an expert on the matter. So you can imagine my sheer joy upon touching Australian soil*** for my first time and beginning what shall hitherto be reffered to as:

THE GREAT KANGAROO HUNT

(feel free to clap)

At the airport I met my co-conspirator and local terrain expert, Megan Iskov. With no time to waste we hit the road and headed North-East into roo country. My eyes were peeled as we headed through open farm land, or what the locals refer to it as "the bush." Third grade research had told me it would take a keen eye and super intuitive knowledge to spot one of these graceful creatures. What third grade research left out, is that I would see multiple "sleeping" on the side of the road all the way to Wangaratta...

Of course, "sleeping" kangaroos don't count in:

THE GREAT KANGAROO HUNT

so on we drove. Carefully. The next day, Megan had the brilliant idea of heading up to the top of Mount Pilot to get a survey of the territory. Perhaps with a little luck we might spot a roving band of roos down below down under. (get it?) No Roos, but we did get a spectacular view:

And our first big break in the case:

Fresh roo marks! We were on the right track. After the hike, we headed back to basecamp: Doon Kuna Farm in Byawatha, Victoria...and home to the most welcoming and wonderful family I could ever have imagined. So inviting in fact that the whole lot of them joined

THE GREAT KANGAROO HUNT

dedicating their time and efforts to finding an Eastern Grey. Barbed wire be damned....we were going to find one.

However, after a series of failed foot-based expeditions, I decided it was time to step it up...and hit the backroads on wheels. Surely, with speed on my side, I would be able to track one down.

Biking on unsealed roads in the heat of the Australian sun is a slightly different endeavour than the New England roadbiking I am accustomed to...but with a little extra effort, I made it about 10 miles out into the mountains to a little place called: Kangaroo Crossing.

Truly, prospects were grim. Meanwhile, back at Doon Kuna, a plan of attack was hatching. Apparently, sunset is the best time to see wild kangaroos; as most of the day they stay hidden, resting in the shade. With the 4-wheel drive freshly back from the shop...we weren't going to leave anything to chance. If only we could just get some sort of sign, something to tell us we were on the right track. And then it happened, yes, the moment you have all been eagerly waiting for:

Roo Poo!!!!!!!!

Spirits refreshed, Megan and I set out toward where the sun ducked behind the Warbies. In no time at all, we chanced upon a small group of Eastern Greys just off the side of the road.

(Photo thanks to Megan Iskov)

And with that,

THE GREAT KANGAROO HUNT

came to a spectacular close.

Epilogue:

Since the end of the great kangaroo hunt, I have grown very close to the kangaroos (practically becoming one myself) and while I still have yet to make into the pouch, Becky....I have very high hopes that with time, I will be taken in as "just one of the roos"

*** Unfortunately, Australia also meant parting ways with my two-month travel companions, Justin and Emily. Many many thanks to both for helping me get on my backpacker feet. I miss you guys and hope that your travels have continued to be as amazing as mine were with you!

Dear Marina and Ryan,

2010-02-26T19:49:00.000-08:00

You may be asking yourself: Why would anyone put themselves through a 28 hour bus ride like that? And I have a good reason for you:

LEEEEEEEEZARDS!!!!!

We finally made it to Flores in the heat of the afternoon (well over 100F) and I booked myself into a $3 bedroom to catch up on some of the sleep I never got defending myself against the rambutan ant brigade on the bus the day before. Before heading for bed however, we ran into a hodgepodge group of fellow travellers (Canadian/Dutch/Chinese/American) who had similarly come to Flores for its close proximity to Komodo. Before the end of the evening, we had chartered a boat, complete with chef, for the next 2 days and I went off to bed with hopes of catching a glimpse of a real Komodo Dragon in the wild. Little did I know...

As we docked the next day on one of the three islands in the world which house these massive dragons (Leezards!), I was shocked to find that there were no guard rails, no electric fences, just a path and a couple guides with long sticks. At this point I figured: considering the lack of attention to safety measures the likelihood of my coming across one of these things was probably pretty low and if all they use for defense is this stick...they surely can't be THAT big. This is what I thought, until I looked directly below the staircase I was standing on to find an 8 foot monster staring back.

Cue the heeby-jeebies. It is hard to explain how ridiculously massive and intimidating these creatures really are. Perhaps it would help to add that the water buffalo, komodo deer and wild horses that live on the island are all helpless against their deadly saliva. (yes, I did say saliva. They actually don't produce venom, but rather have the most bacteria infested mouths of any animal on earth). This one, decided it was a good idea to crawl directly toward me while grunting (apparently a sign of aggression. super.):

Please note the death saliva dripping from the corner of its mouth. After a few hours exploring Rinca and Komodo I really started to become more at ease with the beasts, stopping here and there for a few photo shoots:

After a hard day of dragon-hunting, we anchored our boat in one of the bays on Komodo, had a big feast, and watched the flying foxes (giant bats) fly over our heads as the sun fell behind the horizon. And that was just day 1! (Or Day 52 of my trip...if you're keeping track)

The next morning, as we sailed through the islands, we caught a glimpse of a splash in the distance. The captain (who tended to steer the boat with his feet) jumped to, and started a course directly toward the splash. "Manta! Manta!" some of the crew shouted, and I raced up to the top deck, hoping to get a glimpse of one before they dove down. However within minutes, we were surrounded by enormous shadows in the water. Giant 15-20 foot flapping bat-shaped silhouettes surrounded our boat, and I couldn't believe what incredible luck I was having. In fact, I was so shocked, that I almost failed to notice the captain and crew staring at me in wonder as to why I wasn't throwing on my snorkel and mask like everybody else... You mean...I could actually go IN the water with these? You didn't have to tell me twice.

Thanks to Peter and Kim for this great footage

So there you have it: Komodo National Park. Where foxes fly, bats swim and dragons walk the earth. Sounds a bit like somewhere out of one of Ryan's sci-fi novels, no? From Komodo, we embarked on a trans-Flores tour which included some incredible views, unique opportunities to see some relatively traditional villages, and yet another sunrise hike to tri-colored lakes at the top of Kelimutu in Eastern Flores.

And while we were feeling pretty comfortable in our air-conditioned 4-wheel drive, I think these kids really had the right idea on mountain road travel in Indonesia:

After a series of layovers in West Timor, Bali and Kuala Lumpur I will be on my way to Australia...but not without having been thoroughly influenced by this "dangerously beautiful" country.

Dear Becky,

2010-02-22T00:37:00.000-08:00

I wish I could see your face.

I wish I could see your face as I tell you about a new friend of mine I have made in the last couple of weeks. His name is: White-tip Reef Shark. Yes, I have entered the world of insane people who actually choose to swim with sharks. But I can't help it, Indonesia does that to you. Let me explain:

We left Bali behind two weeks ago and decided to head East into the Nusa Tengarra (which is a fancy way of saying east of Bali). From the moment we set foot on the ferry bound for Gili Trawangan (the first of eight islands I would hit in the last two weeks) I knew I was in for something special. And the reason I knew this was because a pod of about 50 dolphins came back-flipping and barrel-rolling out of the ocean to tell me.

Dazed by the dolphin olympics, I stepped onto Gili Trawangan ready to explore the rest of the aquamarine playground surrounding the three Gili islands famous for their excellent diving, warm water and remote beaches. It didn't take much to convince me that enrolling in the Advanced Open Water Diver Course was the way to go...and next thing you know, I'm swimming with sharks.

And while I am absolutely certain that you are horrified right now, just wait...because I haven't even told you about the night diving yet! Seriously though, the diving in the Gilis was amazing and all in all, I saw octopi, giant morays, turtles, stingrays, scorpion and anglerfish, cuttlefish, squids, and of course a couple sharks. And that doesn't even hit the hundreds of species of tropical fish, nudibranchs, and on and on. Basically what I am getting at Beck, is that you better start putting away time for some dive vacations...because I won't take no for an answer...

The Gilis are the type of place where you can sit in a thatched roof bungalow on a white sand beach and drink fresh squeezed fruit juice while you waste the day away patting yourself on the back for all the hard work you did that day walking down to the waters edge once or twice. It looks a little something like this:

And when you have had it up to here with all of this pain and suffering, don't worry, you can just hop a longtail boat from one Gili to the next...as I did when after 4 days on Gili T, I decided it was time to make the big 20 minute move to Gili Air (Air, by the way, means water in Indonesian...try to explain that one to the captain planet team).

Since there are no motorized vehicles on the islands, you have two options for getting around.

1) Circumnavigate by foot (this took me one hour on Gili Air)

2) Hop a ride on a wagon that is pulled by Sparkles the Christmas Pony.

But of course, every dream must come to an end, and while I hate to not give sparkles his fair share of the transportation discussion in this blog, I must switch tracks to tell you about the next leg of our journey across Lombok and Sumbawa.

Where to begin? Okay, imagine you are in a bus, and you are in the back row. Next to the toilet. And the seats don't recline. But, hey, everything is okay because you have got loads of legroom. I mean, really it was very thoughtful of this bus designer to consider that those of us that won't be able to recline for the next 28 hours may require a bit extra legroom. So the bus leaves, and you are a little bummed about the 20-30 ants that are crawling around near the toilet, but when all is accounted for it could be worse. really.

20 minutes roll by and the bus stops, the back door swings open and a giant white sack filled with fresh fruit flies into the bus at your feet. hmmmmm....you think, that's different, okay, no big deal. And here is another. Two Bags! wow! crazy. But it doesn't stop. A giant sack of carrots, maybe 10 giant boxes and a man. A small man who crawls up behind your seat and crunches in above your head.

And then come the ants. An endless eruption of tiny black ants that crawl out of the various sacks and boxes and creep up your legs and down your back and you are stuck. 28 hours. Twenty-eight hours.

But the good news is (and there is good news...I promise): at least they know where the best apples come from.

Love you miss you happy birthday.

Dear Jessalee,

2010-02-10T04:33:00.000-08:00

Boo!

In honor of the fact that I have stolen your "big ----ing Dog" story and told it a thousand times to anyone who will listen, I dedicate this story to you. Maybe you can use it as a long form monologue...although, I guess that would defeat the purpose of improv. Anyway, without further ado: Bali.

Bali. The magical and idyllic island somewhere between paradise and heaven. For 24 years, I have equated Bali with places like Zanzibar, Fiji and Tahiti. Just the word alone conjures up images of lazy white sand beaches, dense tropical forests, a rich and unique cultural heritage, and maybe even a few beverages of the fruity, frosty, pineapple-on-the-rim variety. But today (and I am going to go out on a limb here and extend that to eternity) the word Bali has taken on a new connotation for me. And that connotation is:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAKAKAKKAKKKKKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perhaps I should explain. One of my new favorite activities is motorbiking. It is an excellent way to get to know a new place and have a little freedom while doing it. After arriving in Bali on a very slow, very uncomfortable version of a Bainbridge ferry, Emily, Justin and I headed up to the less-visited north coast of the island. The next evening, we decided to rent a couple of motorbikes just to get a good idea of the surroundings. (And also to get a little wind in our faces after a sweltering day). So there I am, cruising down backroads on BALI on a motorbike...livin' the dream. Justin and Emily are just ahead of me, and as they swerve a little right, in my headlight I catch sight of this huge (and I mean HUGE) snake in the middle of the road. Now you may be thinking: Ah-ha! hence the AAAAAK(etc.). False. The snake was huge, but it did little more than give us a temporary thrill as we continued up the hill in search of a possible vantage point of the ocean.

At a fork in the road, we took off our helmets for a short stop during which we visited a spooky Balinese temple and discussed our slithering friend at length. After a few minutes, I slipped back on my helmet and we took off down the road. (For those of you who love details: we took the right fork).

Now I must entreat you to step inside a split-second of my life. Imagine if you will, the sound of the simple flutter of a moth's wings. Have you got it? It's really just a soft whooshing...isn't it? Now, and please stick with me here, imagine the sound of that same moth FLYING INTO YOUR EAR, CRAWLING DOWN YOUR EAR CANAL AND BURROWING INTO YOUR BRAIN!!!! Because THAT is what happened to me on my picturesque back-country joyride on the hills of beautiful Bali. (minus the whole burrowing into my brain part).

Jamming the breaks, I ripped the helmet from my head and proceeded to go insane. Because here is the thing: the moth is so far in my ear that not even my pinky can feel it. But, oh no, don't be fooled, I can feel it. I can feel it from the inside...and it is STILL FLUTTERING. So, yeah, I started going insane...thrashing my head around and honking my horn to signal Emily and Justin. It is pitch black. I am in the middle of nowhere (there are snakes here remember) and a mystery-bug is playing the bongos on my eardrum. Stop me if I am over-reacting. I dare you.

Justin and Emily return, and upon my request, Emily commandeers my bike and they drive me back down to our hotel. Lots of people have ideas about how to remove the bug. A friendly Balinese man and his wife suggest a Q-tip, which is a great idea....if I want to shove the bug further down into my ear canal. The owner of our hotel suggests the phrase: "Oh Shit!" Thanks, dude. Much appreciated. But it is Emily who finally locates the white abdomen of the moth deep down in my ear, and it is Justin who picks up a pair of tweezers to start going to town on my ear operation: milton-bradley style.

First attempt: Ear wax, and the bug digs down. Second attempt: more earwax (I should really do something about that) and the bug digs down. Third attempt....moth. A moth. And not just any moth. A disgusting, white-abdomened, ear-attacking, hari-kari moth from Balinese hell. And then here is the kicker: Justin lets go of the tweezers...and the moth flies away.

Here I've been, checking my bags at every airport and border crossing just to make sure nobody has pulled a Brokedown Palace on me...and I forgot the number 2 scariest thing about that movie....the bug-in-the-ear crazy spells. Kate Beckinsale...I hear you. A+ for that acting.

So there you have it Jessalee. And I've even added in pictures because I know you don't like wordy posts. And maybe, someday, I will look back at these pictures and remember the rest of my incredible stay on Bali. But my guess is: probably not.

Dear Jamie,

2010-02-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

Just finished reading High Fidelity...you might hate me...but go buy it and read it. Now.

Top 5 best songs to hike around the rim of an active volcano to (in chronological order):

1. Supermassive Black Hole, Vitamin String Quartet version: Ok, true, this song is the theme from the movie Twilight...which makes me incredibly lame. BUT it is also the VSQ version which ups my cool-factor a smidge and at the end of the day, none of that matters a bit when it is 4 in the morning and you are walking across a gray dim valley covered in ash with a low misty cloud hovering overhead. Think: The Road by Cormac McCarthy. As if all of this wasn't enough, throw in this song to the mix and you will be covered in goosebumps for the next 3 weeks.

2. Solsbury Hill, Peter Gabriel: Sunrise. I am standing on the rim of the volcano. I use the term rim loosely. A better phrase might be: where the two cliffs that plummet to my potential doom meet in crumbling ashy rock. I have to sit, because standing is the scariest thing I could possibly imagine. Ever. Behind me is the valley I have just traversed. In front (and down, down, down): the cracked center of the volcano where a steady stream of sulfurous smoke climbs straight up into the sky. Behind the smoke: sunrise.

3. Be Here Now, Mason Jennings: To be honest, I am arrested in fear. Within 10 feet of leaving the "guard rail" behind I can't move another step. I would like to pretend that at this moment I made the decision to face my fears and circumnavigate the entire volcano. I did not. What I decided to do, was stop sitting on the crumbliest part of the whole thing and move a couple feet more to where it was a little safer. I use the term safer loosely. The first 5 minutes went a little something like this: just a little more, ok, too far, too scary, too alone...just a little more, ok, farther, a little less scary, just as alone. And then I hit my first peak. My first vista. Suddenly the sunrise was 4 shades of red deeper and I knew that there would be no turning back. I was here. Now.

4. All My Days, Alexi Murdoch: If I focus on the music, I don't think about the danger. If I don't think about the danger, my head doesn't spin. If my head doesn't spin, I don't topple off the volcano. I mean seriously? "Topple off the volcano?" I'm not kidding...I feel like a dinosaur is going to pop out at any moment...that or Tom Hanks (anyone? anyone?) Dawn is an amazing time of day. You know what else is amazing? Volcanoes. I am obviously an 8 year-old again.

5. Living in Twilight, The Weepies: This song came on shuffle right as I was returning to start: about an hour later. I am beaming from ear to ear. I have never done something that felt so.....so.....

Perfect.

Be here now
no other place to be
all the doubts that linger
just set them free
and let good things happen
let the future come
into each moment
like a rising sun

sun comes up and we start again
sun comes up and we start again
sun comes up and we start again
sun comes up and we start again
sun comes up and we start again
sun comes up and we start again

(Mt. Bromo, Eastern Java, Indonesia)

Dear Jen,

2010-02-05T02:00:00.000-08:00

You wanted Indonesia...you got it!

(see people...there are rewards for being an avid reader and commenter!)

After a rocky plane ride over the equator, we landed in Yogyakarta (pronounced Jogja) which is a really busy little town in Central Java. Why so busy you ask? Well, because the entire town is working extremely hard at selling me batik art. And when I say the entire town...I literally mean every single person is involved in this highly elaborate scheme to convince tourists (of which there are about 20 total) that they have happened to arrive on the very last day of an art exhibition which closes at 2pm (4PM, 8PM, in 20 minutes...come now, I will show you). But here is the thing...everyday is the last day of this "temporary" exhibit.

When you get past this little trick though, you realize this really is the Batik capitol of the world and the arts and cultural capitol of Java...and I am pretty sure I heard a local or two refer to it as "Janice Baker's Wonderland," but I'm not sure.

Aside from the hustle and bustle of the city, the main attraction in Cental Java is Borobudur, the largest stupa in the world. Although, I still don't know what a stupa is. But I do know Borobudur is the biggest (but not the tallest (I think)). Clearly I did a good job of reading all the signs. I'm more of an experiential learner anyway.

But here are some things I did learn: you must circumambulate (I love that word) the stupa as you ascend. This, however, isn't difficult because if you want to see the over 2500 reliefs and 400 statues of Buddah on the towering structure, then it only makes since to wind up each level until you hit the top.

Of course, after all those circumambulations (try that one for scrabble, jen...) you can get pretty tired.

At the end of the day (11AM) I was exhausted and headed back down to Jogja where I could feast on fried fish with rice and a fresh guava juice with a chocolate and peanut butter pancake for dessert. All for a little over a dollar.

I can't wait for the rest of this month in this country...which one sign described as:

DANGEROUSLY BEAUTIFUL

Dear Cora,

2010-01-28T01:00:00.000-08:00

Life-size scrabble? Yes, please.

reposing, sparing, ion-grapes. I'm pretty sure ion-grapes is a word. Don't even challenge it.

So you may be wondering why the only pictures I have of Singapore are of alphabetical origin. And here is the reason: How many pictures of malls do you keep on your digital camera?

And while this comment may seem unfair, or judgemental, I assure you it comes from a very positive and supportive place. I love Singapore. I love air conditioning, and food courts and sparkling clean streets. I love timely metros and monks buying 10 packs of black dress socks at the mall.

I love guava gelato by the world's tallest ferris wheel (although I do NOT love the price to go on the world's tallest ferris wheel and am therefore content with the fact that I will die having only been on the world's second tallest ferris wheel: the London Eye).

I love discovering sour candy for the first time since leaving the states. And I don't love that the scale is broken so the guy won't sell it to me. But no fear: I love going back the next day and getting the new guy to sell it to me. Because let's face it: What wouldn't I do for sour belts and peach-o's? (If only they were CVS brand: sigh...)

I love hitting my one-month mark on my travels. Has it already been a month? Has it only been a month?

I love the merlion. In fact, I love the merlion so much I bought a shirt with the merlion on it. The merlion is the symbol of Singapore and it is, as you may have gathered, a lion with a mer-tail.

I do not love carrot cake. This may seem shocking, as anyone and everyone should know that carrot cake, according to me, is the only cake worth even mentioning. But I repeat: I do not love carrot cake. Because in Singapore, carrot cake is made out of stir-fried gelatinous goop with spring onions and shrimp and really isn't carrot cake at all. What it really is...is disgusting.

I like (not love...but this won't be a shocker) going into a hospital again for the first time since leaving work. Don't worry, I was just asking for directions and I didn't even leave the lobby, but it was cool to be transported back to that place.

I do not love spiced butter milk. In fact I do not love it so much that I almost gagged while sampling Justin's. Justin, too, does not love spiced butter milk. Nobody who has taste buds likes spiced buttermilk. If I ever meet someone who does, I will give them an award...and then slap some sense into them.

I do not love saying goodbye to Ashlee. I do not love rude hostel roommates who turn on the lights at 4 in the morning. I do not love when I step in vomit on my way to the shower. I do love the shower though.

I love that I am so close to crossing the equator for my first time. That the Southern Hemisphere is at my fingertips. That Indonesia is just around the corner.

And I really love having the opportunity to experience this little corner of Asia that is pretty unlike anywhere else I have been so far.

Dear Dad,

2010-01-25T01:54:00.000-08:00

You are on my mind everyday.

After three weeks in Thailand, we decided it was time to ditch the beaches and head off to Malaysia where the towers are taller, the highlands are higher and the jungles are denser and older than any other. Either that was the reason...or maybe it was Emily and Justin's expired visas. Not quite sure. Either way, we arrived in Kuala Lumpur on the 18th after a flight where only one piece of the airplane fell off during landing:

We consider that an AirAsia success story (especially after the unnecessarily nasty lady today at the Singapore airport...but I digress). Being in Kuala Lumpur was especially exciting for me, as I am a big nerd and have been interested in the Petronas Towers (the tallest twin towers in the world) since high school. I spent the bus ride from the airport staring hopefully out the window waiting for my first glimpse....which turned out to be well worth the trip.

If you haven't seen the movie Entrapment staring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones...I suggest you rent it immediately...you may just become a Petronas-nerd convert like me!

After two days in krazy KL, we decided to hop a bus to the Cameron Highlands which we learned were a refreshing 70 degrees this time of year, and therefore could be uglier and more boring than dirt for all we cared. It was time for a cool-down. Turns out, it's one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. period. Here comes more pictures than necessary!

Clearly, in the Cameron Highlands I rediscovered my love of tea...both as a piping hot beverage and in plant form. But that's not all I discovered in the extremely under-rated and under-appreciated Malaysia. Take for example my new found love of bizarrely-named canned beverages like: "Poccari Sweat" "100-Plus" and who can forget one of my personal favorites:

None of these liquid delights have any indication of flavor on the can...so every purchase is a surprise. But here is the secret--9 out of 10 times it will taste somewhere in between carbonated gatorade and watered-down fresca.

After our stay in Cameron Highlands where we lodged in what I'm pretty sure were rooms modeled off of Harry Potter's room under the stairs at the Dursleys (anybody? anybody?) we headed by bus and 2 hour boat ride to the heart of Taman Negara - considered the oldest rainforest in the world.

Every day we took a water taxi across the river to hike in the rainforest spotting everything from treacherous plants, stick bugs and wild orchids to flying lemurs and ants the size of my pinky (no joke).

At one point Justin and I went on a wild tapir chase which is much like a wild goose chase except their is a loud grunting sound coming from about 10 meters off the path. Only when we remembered that their are wild tigers in Taman Negara did we decide to ditch the off-roading and return to the path (as if that would do anything to help us).

The other highlight from our time in Taman Negara took place on a 500 meter canopy walk which towered above the forest floor. As Ashlee and I lingered on a platform, re-applying bug spray to combat the mercenary mosquitoes, we noticed a scampering behind us. When we turned around, we saw a Giant Squirrel following us down the walkway. Okay, so you say: big whoop a big squirrel. I say to you:

Google it: Giant Squirrel

We left Malaysia overwhelmed by the how fast it came and left. The people, and I am quoting Ashlee on this one "are AMAAAAAAAAZING," the food is delicious, the views are incredible, and the kickapoo joy juice is always on tap (and by on tap, I clearly mean covered in a layer of dust in a semi-cold fridge at every mini-mart).

Basically if I can offer you a small bit of advice:

Dear Fellow Camp Song Enthusiasts,

2010-01-17T00:51:00.000-08:00

Alas, Thailand has come and gone. I can't believe how fast the time goes. After leaving Koh Phangan, we headed to Phuket, where we eventually had to say goodbye to Jane and Alison. Luckily, however, not before spending a crazy night at patong beach, which for the PG-rating of my blog will remain photo-less. Instead I will offer a song which I think nicely sums up my experiences in Thailand.

Big Buddah, Big Buddah, Big Buddah.

Big Buddah, ah yeah.

Big Buddah Number 1
(Bangkok, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 2

(Phuket, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 3
(Ayuttaya, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 4

(Bangkok, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 5
(Phuket, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 6

(Nam Tok, Thailand)

Big Buddah Number 7

(Largest Buddah in Thailand)

Ah Big Buddah. Big Buddah, Ah Yeah...

Dear Sarah, Jess and Julie,

2010-01-10T13:23:00.000-08:00

That's right ladies. You guessed it. You are looking at the smiling face of a certified Open Water SCUBA Diver. And those guns he's flashing can only mean one thing: TRIGGERFISH!

But let me start with boats. Because, you know how I love rocking on the high seas. And by rocking...I clearly mean ripping out my regulator and feeding the fish from my insides. Gross. Sorry for that image. Anyway, I boarded my first boat on my way to Koh Tao (Turtle Island) 8 days ago. Since then, I have spent every single day on a boat. Proof:

But thankfully, a little elf slipped some anti-nausea medicine into my stocking and I have championed my way from from Chumphon-Koh Tao-Koh Phangan-Koh Samui-Mu Koh Angthong-back to Koh Samui- back to Koh Phangan-Surat Thani. Throw in 3 more boat trips for the SCUBA certification, and you can start to understand why I am so proud of my ability to keep my pad thai down.

Of course, the island hopping has been well worth it. The diving in Koh Tao is not only some of the cheapest in the world, but also incredibly stunning with huge colorful coral formations, stingrays, moray eels, angelfish, pufferfish, clownfish and on and on. But the underwater highlight has been the 6 or 7 Triggerfish that I have seen which always remind me of the three of you.

To the south, Koh Samui offered us:

The arrival of two more friends (Ashlee and Jane)

Easy access to Mu Ko Angthong, a protected group of limestone islands.

And Beach Bungalows 5 meters from the surf

Now back on Koh Phangan for 4 days, we are taking it easy in every way we can (as if any of this has been stressful, right?) beach bumming, motorbiking, and cards have been a great way to spend time with friends and maximize our island-life experience.

And while I decided to cut travel scrabble from my bag at the last minute, have no fear...Justin and I negotiated a fair price for a Thai knock off. Relaxing: 78 pts.

"I got a peaceful easy feeling and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground."
-The Eagles

Dear Caitlin,

2010-01-02T21:14:00.000-08:00

Mission: Accomplished!

You will be proud to know that the first thing I did when I woke up on my first morning in Bangkok was rip off a piece of an old Chang Beer box and craft this "Day 1" sign. I then folded it up and proceeded to carry it all over the city with me (despite the fact that in this heat having anything bulky in your pocket is next to unbearable) as Emily, Justin and I tuk-tuk'ed our way throughout the city. Ultimately, The tuk-tuk photo I think sums up the feeling of day 1: fast and a little overwhelming.

The next morning, we decided to leave the city and explore a little bit of central Thailand. In Ayutthaya, we biked, walked, climbed and boated in, on and around the incredible ruins of ancient Siam.

In Kanchanaburi province we celebrated the new year with fireworks on the river Kwai and an amazing bar called "restroom" (seriously) which was packed to the brim with Thais who LOVED to take pictures with us (and randomly take sips of our beers...which was a little bizarre). The peak of our night however, was lighting our lantern at midnight and watching it join the hundreds of other lanterns floating up past the full moon.

I have also had a bunch of "firsts" since arriving in Thailand:

First Thai Massage - ฿120

Minibus to Ayutthaya with surprise
stop at Ancient Wat - ฿200

Riding the Death้้้้้ Railway across
the bridge over River Kwai - ฿100

My first time in Asia with two incredible friends - PRICELESS

And while I am already having all of these new adventure I am starting to understand how difficult it is going to be to be so far away from my friends and family for such a long time. Luckily, and thanks to you, I have the wisdom of Pooh to keep me going.

“If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”

- Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)

Dear Santa,

2009-12-27T18:40:00.000-08:00

I thought the best part of leaving the day after Christmas was going to be the fact that you would be helping me with some of the key ingredients of my travel supplies. Sorry, Santa, turns out I was wrong. The best part about leaving the day after Christmas is having your whole family at home to hug goodbye on the morning you leave.

I made it to Bangkok safe and sound.

Dear Mom and Dad

2009-12-25T00:10:00.000-08:00

Despite my best efforts to rewrite history and erase this little blemish from my past, in order to best explain how this blog has come to be, I must face two glaring realities:

1) I once lived for 4 months in Russia and took only one roll of film;
2) I once lived for 4 months in Africa and only called home 3 times

-cringe-

So, in light of these, shall we say--oversights of documentation and communication(?), I have decided to increase my level of accountability and responsibility and set up this blog. Merry Christmas mom and dad! True, it is a christmas gift that cost me $0. But think of how much you get for my no-money... frequent updates of my travels accessible at any time, pictures along the way (so you don't have to sit through a 3 hour slideshow of my whole trip) and of course, more technology to deal with (which I know you guys love).

When you are reading my blog, try to think of my adventures as a roller coaster. There will certainly be highs and lows, ups and downs, corkscrews and everything else you might expect. That's all part of the journey. Now consider that there are two ways to ride a rollercoaster. Eyes shut, hands clenching the safety bar, praying to make it back safely. Or laughing out loud, eyes open to the world with both hands up. I choose the latter.

And to everyone else who is following along: Thank you for helping me write this story.

"The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head. There is the illusion of aliveness."

- Tim O'Brien