"105 Degrees and Rising"

You know that famous picture of an American helicopter evacuating troops from the roof of the U.S. embassy in Saigon at the end of the war? Did you know that was not the embassy in that photo? Or U.S. troops? Yeah, me neither. Funny how what actually happens in history is not nearly as important as what is reported to have happened. History is only lived once with no one around, but its written over and over again to an audience of millions. I love history, especially those historic moments that have some direct connection to me. (that just sounded like the intro paragraph to a seventh grade essay)

Whether good or bad, I realized that I was so interested in learning about the Vietnam War that I will definitely be excluding some amazing things to see and do in these countries. I am Ok with that, and the way I am looking at it is I can always come back and really see these countries more closely some other time. My dad just told me that he'd like to see these areas--so there you go...I'll be back. Luckily for me, Zaz was interested in getting the inside scoop also. ...

Didn't surprise me that Pol Pot (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pol_Pot ) organized often on the western border where we entered Cambodia. Like Zaz said, it was one of the lowest points of our trips culminating in tears running down Zaza's face. I wasn't pissed until I saw those tears. I was trying to remind myself that she just cries when she gets angry-it wasn't that she was upset, she just felt helpless. The guy who abandoned us without a bus to get to Siem Reap in Cambodia literally had black eyes without a hint of color or brightness in them. He really looked evil. I thought maybe he was a direct descendant of Pol Pot, who I found out later had lived and organized in that area. Or maybe he had met some of my descendants in the last 50 years. But once again a bad situation turned good and we got a taxi (way way faster and more comfortable) all for the same price everyone else paid for the entire trip from Bangkok to Siem Reap, Cambodia. Travelers now ask us for advice on how to overcome the "Bangkok to Siem Reap bus scam" (yes it has a name). When the taxi pulled up, a toyota camry covered in red mud from a road we would soon meet, some tourists with us gasped. I saw the extra suspension that was added jacking it up like a truck, and I noticed the tires were like small truck tires---I thought this thing would get us anywhere we needed to go, I was psyched. I wonder if I would have had that same reaction before experiencing India. Doubt it.

People ask us what's the best part of Cambodia (I hate that question--but I like our answer) its the people. They are so warm and friendly its like no where else I've ever been. How do borders align generosity levels? I don't know- let me get back to you on that one. Siem Reap and Phnom Phen, their two major cities. They're beautiful cities with tree-lined streets, french architecture, surrounded and dissected by rivers with walkways along them. In Siem Reap we toasted with green beer for St. Patricks Day and in Phom Phen we hung out with a local bartender named Lee who took off work for the rest of the night and took us out to the hottest club in the city: "The Heart of Darkness." Phnom Phen is stained with rich corrupt politician's kids who ride around in brand new Hummers, Mercedes, and Cadillacs with chrome wheels reflecting starving limbless kids on the street--victims of the countless landmines that are left over from the previous wars. It's a real concern here actually. Even our guide book advises us not to take a piss on the side of the road--you never know who's weapons lie underneath the dirt. It could have a Russian, Vietnamese, or American patent on it. Farmers, and kids looking for firewood get blown up all the time. We found out most of them are not designed to kill but to maim, because a maimed soldier costs more to repair and take care of for many years. How much of my taxes go to pay the economist who crunched those numbers?

The Killing Fields. It brings tears to my eyes as I write this ---10 days later. There are still human bones and clothes around the ditches that were dug to slaughter 2 million Cambodians. Check out the link above on Pol Pot. Even though he grew up wealthy, he tortured and killed almost 1/4 of the population of Cambodia from 1975 to 1979 because he wanted Cambodia to return to an agrarian society. The cities were emptied and people were forced to farm. He killed people who did not have rough hands, even though this guy never lifted a farming or "working class" tool of any kind. Uhh... its one thing to read about, but to see our taxi driver tear up just because he had to wait outside while we went in is another. We didnt even ask if one of his family members were taken....we just knew. Everyone over the age of 30! has a story of a loved one that was last seen being questioned then put into a truck. People say they were afraid to talk to anyone, even their neighbors, because people ratted each other out to protect their own families.

We crossed the border into Vietnam on a bus. We passed right over the Ho Chi Minh Trail...the direct road/ trail/ rivers that was the avenue for supplies from the Northern Vietnamese (Vietcong) to their Southern rebels. We entered Saigon on the same road that the North Vietnamese did at the end of April in 1975, after the Americans had left. The next day we took a bus to Chu Chi tunnels. This was an extensive underground tunnel network built by the vietcong completely surrounding an old American military base (their largest in Vietnam). Part of the base was even built on the tunnels allowing them access to the inside! You should see this...you drive pass the base 5 minutes and you're inside the Vietcong's tunnels. The two fronts couldnt have been more than a mile apart. At one point we were guided through the tunnels by an ex Vietcong soldier who was very friendly even when I told him that I was American. Is this unreal? It's just a different digit on a calendar year that stands between this guy killing me on the spot. There was a left over blown up American tank there that stayed where time left it. Or a bomb left it I should say, time didn't help those Americans out at all.

Then we heard gunfire. From a machine gun. I never heard a machine gun before but to those that haven't, don't worry you'll know when you hear a machine gun. Our guide was leading us to a sort of snack place where we could take a lunch-break slash firing-range where you could shoot an M-16, AK-47, or any number of assault rifles. Did I say that right Josh? Assault rifles? Aren't they all assaulting? We had this option in Cambodia but we were so heartbroken by the stories of Pol Pot's violence, we couldn't even think about it. In Cambodia they give you a bigger selection too. You can fire an AK for $30, a rocket launcher for $200, and even take the old tank out...I'm not playing. If you want, for an extra few bucks they'll let you kill a cow or a chicken. So let's just say, none of this put us in the mood, especially the "kill something alive" deal in the backyard of the Killing Fields. But, I don't know, this set-up in Vietnam didn't have such a dark cloud over it. I mean the cloud was dark from an American perspective, and an overall human kind war is a horrible thing perspective, but we were on Vietcong turf, and these guys are pretty damn proud of winning the war. You can get any number of killing machines, sodas, sandwiches, you know your every day snack bar. Ihe guy behind the counter asked me what I'd like. He said the money goes to the museum and there's too many bullets in Vietnam, so its a good way to make money. Good enough for me--conscience cleared, i'll take a coke and that AK-47 right there!

And wait....look who's tagging along right behind me wondering if we can split the clip.....that's right...the AK Zazzadoo. It was fun actually, I like guns if you just shoot stuff in the woods. There were these targets really far away (Im bad with long distances--would guess almost a football field) and we both nailed them a couple of times. Sometimes its hard to tell because an AK makes a mess when it hits so there was a lot of dust where it would land--but wow these things are not for kids man. If you held the trigger too long it would just rip automatic LATATATATATATA, or you just hit it once BBBAAAOOOM. Its SOOO loud, like lighting an M-80 in your ear. Crazy. The whole thing just kind of left me shaky. Just made me more conscious of the violence that happened in those woods.

There were huge B-52 bomb craters in the next area that we saw. After my stint with the machine gun, I was trying to imagine what the plan would be for any given battle....I mean its thick jungle (the forest is very young now due to the napalm dropped everywhere(another tragic story hopefully zaz will elaborate) but you could imagine--plus you see the thick jungle everywhere else) What would the strategy be? Go straight, and kill any Vietcong you see? Or hide and kill when people move? Go left? Who goes first? Who ever goes first is definitely dead, how do you go? What if everyone in your group gets killed and your face down in the mud in South East Asia wondering how did I get here? This is not a good place to be....for what reason? I could be at a Grateful Dead show right now with my girlfriend and I am face down in the mud preparing to die. For what? They say we're fighting commies so our kids can go to a Grateful Dead show with their girlfriends in the future.....can't we just make up with the commies? The commies won and the Grateful Dead still went on...

The commies did win. Although the American military out-fought the Vietcong(meaning they killed 2 million Vietcong -while 55,000 Americans died) and won many more strategic battles, the North Vietnamese Vietcong soldiers took Saigon on April 30, 1975 and Vietnam is still communist. The Vietnam War (or as they call it here "the American War") had two fronts and the U.S. Military "lost" the front at home with public support. The Vietcong have since said that they wouldn't have been able to hold on much longer. Ho Chi Minh has said that the American anti-war movement was crucial to victory for the North Vietnamese. Who won and what we won all depends on whos writing it. The American War museum here in Saigon reminds you how both sides are just people---so similar--but we find ways to make some the bad guys and some the good guys.

Zaz and I printed a copy of that famous photo during the fall of Saigon of the American chopper lifting people off the roof of the embassy. Just a few clicks of the mouse and you find out that the photographer's message "down the street from the embassy" got lost in translation and history was re-written, or written I should say. It was in fact an apartment building right in downtown Saigon- not the embassy. I got the address and stuffed the printed photo into my pocket and off we went in search of this famous building.

I'm really sorry for the length--you wouldn't believe how much is being left out...plus this is for me too.

Ok, we leave with the address and a photo. I felt like a journalist with some leads. We find out that the street was renamed--- at least we got that far we thought. We half-heartedly kept looking hoping with little confidence that the number was the same even though the street name changed. We found number 22 Gia Long St. This was supposedly the real CIA headquarters which was disguised as an apartment building called Pittman Apartments across the street from the fake official CIA headquarters which is no longer there. The people boarding that helicopter were CIA, some other press and South Vietnamese--not American military 'running away', as some news outlets printed. We saw 4 men in their 50-60's(when I see men this age here I always wonder: where were they during the war? Who's side were they on?) sitting in black leather chairs laughing at a joke one of them had told. They look like they work there, a few of them have badges. I write down "Pittman Apartments 22 Gia Long St" next to the photo and show it to the men because I knew that they wouldn't speak English, not many people do above the age of 30 here. I accidentally hand them this one : (which we never found the location of)http://www.elpais.com/elpaismedia/domingo/media/200310/12/reportajes/20031012elpdmgrep_10_I_LBW.jpgand eliza realizes and snatches it away and replaces it with the correct one, this one: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a8/Vietnamescape.jpg where I had scribbled the address and name. I thought they looked puzzled until one of them nodded and wrote "C I A" on the piece of paper. Zaz and I said, YES YES. At the same time, they all agreed in Vietnamese I think.

We asked, very politely, in sign language if we could go to the roof and take a picture. Confused, and not too sincerely, one of them left with the photo and it seemed we should wait. A woman came back who spoke english and she asked if we wanted to go to the roof. We told her yes if it was OK, and she politely said it was not possible. I learned in India just by asking the same question twice, many times you get the answer you are looking for. You sort of get a coupla free bees because of the language barrier, it's great I wish I could use it at home. So I said again, "Is it Ok if we go to the roof to take a picture", like she never even responded the first time. Eliza kept saying, "history, history" it was hilarious. She said wait she'll check. (See?) She came back and said she would have to get clearance from the Director of the Building(dont know what that is --Communist Bureaucrats we thought) so its not possible. I said again so politely, "Can we get clearance from Director to take picture on roof?" "It's OK?" Eliza: "history, history?" She said to wait again and came back with the first guy who we originally spoke to and she said that he was going to escort us to the roof.

We were doing pretty well considering it was our first guerrilla journalism experience. We thought he was taking us to the roof but led us into an office titled 'Director of Operations'. These are common titles in Communist countries. I think I know this from my limited study of Chinese politics at CSU. Business and politics sort of blends sometimes. We enter a room straight out of 1970 with lime green rug and brown paneled walls all included. We even got a 1960s-70s dark brown blown glass ash tray on top of those plain gray metal desks with a dirty orange desk cover, you know the kind that have the cheesy carved wooden weights on each side--they prolly mass produce these in plastic for Office Depot now. The whole thing was topped with an old roledex like a cherry on a sundae. It even smelled like the seventies- cafeteria food and old cigarettes. There was a simple non-exotic plant thrown on some metal file cabinet that had a shade of green that matched every color in the room. How DID plants survive in those places back then?

The man behind the desk seemed to be only interested in business which led me to believe that this was a our dead end. He had a young, 20-something woman in a suit standing next to his desk. He asked us to sit. We sat in the two chairs in front of his desk and I sat on the edge of my seat, sort of leaning on to his desk--I was trying to make this less important than it looked. It wasn't THAT important, I was thinking, its just a photo. Zaz sat back a little, looks like she helped me with the photo downstairs and her reassuring "history, history" back-up, but she looked more over and out now. I had to curtail this charlie 9er 9er and take us home. (sorry for that).

But when he spoke he had a huge inviting grin on his face that made me really comfortable and had Zaz inching up a bit in her chair. He asked very matter-of-factly if we spoke Vietnamese--like there was a really good chance that we did. This was when we found out that the young woman standing to our right was the translator because we didn't.

We said that we knew hello, good-bye, delicious, and thank you.....and we were IN. His smile turned into a chuckle and I knew we had this guy--or he had us with his charm. Let's just say we were all charmers. We had a great exchange of personal questions ...well not really exchange but we answered really well with funny answers that really got him rolling. Then he got somewhat serious and said (through the interpreter) that this was CIA headquarters during the war. We both thought he said it was CIA headquarters now and an image of us getting assasinated flashed my mind. Luckily it was the former, and he said if we go and look or take pictures of the roof(he didnt care what we did on the roof), afterward, when we go back to New York we should tell our friends and family about the nice people of Vietnam and forget that War forever. He said this cuz previously we had said how nice people are in Vietnam and we were surprised being Americans and all....we agreed and thanked him and we were on our way up to the roof.

That was really cool, standing on that actual spot just after the code words "The Temperature in Saigon is 105 Degrees and Rising" was said repeatedly on the radio after "White Christmas". This was the signal to the CIA and to the rest of American Saigon that this was the end and it was time to go to your designated point where helicopters or buses would be waiting. the South Vietnamese soldiers were shedding there uniforms in the streets because the Vietcong tanks would round the corner any minute. I looked at the city streets. I read about a Dutch reporter that stayed....he said moments after the last American had left Saigon the Vietcong were at the city center. he said that they were really nice and welcomed him with open arms. He described how bizarre it was to be hanging out with the "enemy" and how they were all right guys.

Even this exhibit at the Gerald Ford Museum in Grand Rapids Michigan is flawed in more ways than one. Even the ex-Pres discussed the staircase atop the roof of the U.S. embassy in Saigon when this exhibit opened. As far as this staircase, who knows where its from, maybe somebody is missing a fire escape in Queens: http://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/museum/exhibits/permanent/Shuttle-Diplomacy.asp

What a nice guy, I thought about the Director. Man I hope the War didnt effect his family. How could it have not? This is a Wikipedia site again: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vietnam_War ...It goes through the history of our involvment and why...Is it the best site for info? I don't know, but is it enough? Yes. I asked a south Vietnamese guy that was in his thirties if anyone was happy that the Americans came to help them fight the North Vietnamese. He said that there were some that were happy, they liked the new money-the capitalism, the change of pace and new culture, but most people knew that the South Vietnamese government was funded and followed the Americans interests. And when that leader(Ngo Dinh Diem) was accused of possibly making peace with the north and simply not getting control, he was killed(by his own coup supported by U.S.) and Kennedy put someone else in his place that would listen to the Americans. Eventually Nguyen Van Thieu was president in 1967 and he was abandoned because the U.S. public lost interest. Would they have fought without us? It really doesn't look like it. It was the U.S. fighting the Russians with the Vietnamese filling the roster. All the weaponry we see over here is 100% Russian made. And they like to show it off, so we see a lot of it.

I have to say, its really weird visiting places in the world ; India, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, that have all had a lot of problems because of Western interests in their politcs and economies--then sitting in all these cafes with travelers from those Western countries. Like we are the only ones that can afford to travel because we've taken advantage of their countries in the past. I know that is not the whole story but its a chunk of it. A couple of weeks ago, we were sitting at one of these hotel/ pool room/ restaurant/ lounge TV room guesthouses filled with white people that they have everywhere and we were looking across a lake in Phnom Phen. To our left were a few french, to our right were some Brits, behind us were some australians. If you looked past the beautiful red reflecting off the lake during the sunset, you could see a massive neighborhood where Cambodians lived. It was tacked together with rusted metal scraps and old rotten wood. The dirt streets were filled with garbage and sewage and it went on for miles. I couldn't help but feel guilty. There weren't any Cambodians in that bar, the local people cannot afford these places---maybe because they got f--ed by every country represented here.

Any American who is embarrassed to say where they are from because of the actions of our government, I'll let you know that we are not alone- although sometimes people want us to be. The french are not angels to the Algerians, the Aussies are in Iraq too, Britain has had its share of empires, and germans hardly bring the subject up--wonder why? And the crazy thing about it is that the people in this region know that there is a difference between the American government and the American people and the past and present. Lucky for us.

Hoi An---french food, french architecture, and tailor shops lining the streets. I have lots of ideas for hats I want to make....don't ask. The heat is kinda getting to us so its going to be nice to go north a little. "The temperature IS 105 degrees and rising!", and thats no code--it was 110 today....

over and out

p.s. if I said something that wasn't true, please inform me.....I'm interested in what happened not what was written....

gg

Who is Cambodia?

I am overdue on my piece of this story. I'm sorry for the delay but I blame the heat, the calm and the simpleness of life- on the outside. In my head I've been reviewing India and all of the moments that happened too fast to think about. I've also been devouring books- my way of avoiding/adjusting to reality. I've actually been writing a list of books that I've read on this trip because I never remember what I've read (it's genetic) and I want to trace the stories that I've been reading as they weave into the incredible ones that I've been living. I don't know if any of you are reading addicts as I am, but if you are you know the surreal quality that life can take while living inside a book- that is sort of how traveling here has been, sometimes I feel that I am living inside a novel.

Thailand finished as sweetly as it began. We had such an amazing time on the beaches, in the hammocks, swimming in the blue blue ocean.. Gregg talked about the sharks- but as the scaredy-cat of this couple, I will comment as well. I had been pretty hesitant about going out there- even after seeing many people go and come back whole.. I was pretty happy sitting on our little porch and Imagining the action under the sea. But I knew that I would be disappointed if I didn't get up the nerve to go out and see for myself. We spent one day snorkeling with a French girl we met who had gotten her training underwater doing some sort of sport fishing where you dive down with a torpedo gun and shoot your dinner. She was a pro at pointing out the fish you could eat and she spent hours out there by herself, diving down and holding her breath for long periods of time. She tried to get me to do it- and I did a little bit- but I didn't like the sensation of having that long tube filled up with water in front of your mouth. Also my ears popped like crazy.

So with her we spent a few hours in the ocean wandering the mazes of coral reef and pointing out the wild looking fish. A few times we swam with schools of hundreds which is such a strange sensation- they are totally surrounding you and going all together in changing directions- I felt very clumsy and disoriented compared to them and I got worried I would smash one by accident. She went too far though- trying to swim around a rocky point and the waves were too big and we couldn't see anything below us.. I was swallowing too much salt water so I turned around feeling like a wimp only to see the other two following me back. Going back was pretty cool- the waves just took me so easily and quickly to shore, I lay on them looking down at the world below and felt suddenly more fish-like and smooth...

The sharks felt like they should have a horror soundtrack attached. The visibility was not perfect- we could see for maybe ten feet around us and I held onto Grey's pantleg the whole time. (I figured we'd look like a bigger scarier fish that way..) As we went out to the point that people said we should wait I could feel myself getting that numb brave feeling that I get before doing something crazy. When Grey stopped and pointed and pulled on my arm I turned to catch a tail- a definite shark tail- and my heart leapt.. They all made my heart leap actually and they looked so skinny but big and mean and efficient somehow- they went so fast through the water!! I'd been used to the other slower more dopey looking fish, but these looked like killing machines. After the last one we stayed for, which was the biggest and meanest looking, (shark bay- our cabin 3rd from left)

we headed back to shore. I really didn't need to see anymore. But I'm glad I did it and even more glad that I still have all my limbs..

One word about the full moon party and Haad Rin where it took place. I didn't really like the feeling of the town.. It felt kind of empty and hungover every other time besides the actual party. And I didn't feel like the locals really liked us. They sold little plastic buckets of alcohol and mixers on tables set up all over town and owned restaurants and bars and hotels.. But I just got the feeling that we were disgusting to them- these tourists that just come and get wasted on their beach and throw their shit all over and then leave.. I didn't get a good feeling about the town and myself being one of the full mooners. It's too bad because I love the idea of a party for the moon on the beach..

I did love the other parts of the islands and the Thai people in those places who were sort of living the beach life with you, lying in the hammock during the hot parts of the day, playing Frisbee on the beach in between food orders, it was much more like they were enjoying their beautiful beaches along with us.

Being back in Bangkok was again a good time- I really like that city. We stayed at a much cheaper place with no bathroom ($6), so it wasn't as posh as the first time, but great anyway. And I wish you guys could have seen Grey trying to get out of that big puffy chair to stand for the king at the movies and landing in a heap under the foot rest- and we were in front of everyone too! I thought we might get kicked out of Thailand but they forgave us.

The long road to Siem Reap.

Our easy time in Bangkok came to an abrupt end when we departed for Cambodia. We'd heard a lot about the "scam buses" that take you from the tourist area to the border and then switch buses and proceed to take 8/9/10/15 hours to Siem Reap (a 3 hour drive on a hell road) just so you will stay in their guesthouse when you arrive at midnight. We also read that they would try to get your visa for you and charge way more than it actually cost-- we were ARMED with knowledge. But we bought a ticket (from MY HOUSE guesthouse travel agency-- Don't Do It) anyway because they were Cheap. Only $8-10 for the whole journey and apparently the guesthouses they want you to stay at weren't so bad.. So we got some good reading materials and some food and got ready for the torturous journey. The first bad sign was when bus stopped before the border at a restaurant- we had heard that they do this after the border- and said that it would be two hours until we were brought to the border. Gregg argued with him a bit- saying that we had to do our visas and couldn't we just go to the border now (it was only 15 minutes away.) But he wouldn't do it and in the process we managed to convince everyone else on the bus not to spend their money on this restaurant. So already he hated us. Then he proceeded to try and get us to give our passports to him and for 1300 baht he would get us a visa. We were prepared for this-- we said no, we'll do them at the border (where we read you should be able to get them for 700 baht - $20- if the border official was in a good mood.) So he sulked a bit but everything seemed OK. Finally we left the restaurant and made one more stop before the border- the consulate! The guy got out and told us to stay put in the bus. Gregg had the nerve to disobey him and go into the consulate anyway to see if the visa was available there. Apparently the guy tried to stop him inside the consulate- even telling the man behind the counter that he shouldn't give him a visa- but Gregg just gave his $20 and got our visas right there, no problem. But when we went and told the rest of the bus (who had given him his 1300) there was mutiny. Half the people went in the consulate and got their passports back and did it themselves. We were elated at our victory over corruption until the guy leaned over to Gregg and said "maybe no bus for you at the border." We sat, stunned and panicked. Could he really leave us at the border after we'd bought our ticket?

Well, yes he could. Or at least he did. After crossing the border by foot and racing to be right next to him through immigration (somehow we thought if he couldn't lose us we'd get on the bus..) he sneakily left us in the hands of the "next driver." The next driver waited until he left and then told everyone but us to go with him. When we joined them he said he didn't know us and we couldn't go with him. We were helpless. Slowly we realized that he had told everyone at the border not to take us. We were stuck.

When I get furious and feel totally helpless with anger I have this annoying habit of bursting into tears. So I did. I think this actually helped us because a man felt sorry for us and offered to take us to the transit station and there we could look for another way to Siem Reap.

Don't worry this story has a happy ending. We arrived at the transit station in time to find some people we had met earlier arguing over a cab price (they call it the taxi mafia here that has overinflated prices so much that people have to share the cabs with many many people.) They were thrilled to see us because it meant they had enough people that they could split the cab. So the 5 of us piled into an air conditioned souped-up toyota (GG told me this) and got to lovely Siem Reap in 3 hours with only one toilet stop. The ride was the craziest dirt road I have ever driven on in my life. It looked like the bombs had just stopped dropping an hour ago. And at one point I hit my head on ceiling so hard I had a headache for the rest of the ride. THANK GOD we weren't on one of the old school buses for 12 hours like we had planned!!! Although I still fantasize about kneeing every one of those men in the ...

Ah Siem Reap. What a shock to find this pretty little town at the end of that hellish ride. It was tree-filled and had beautiful buildings with good restaurants and cafes. Everyone told us not to judge the Cambodian people by the corrupt scum at the border and they were totally right. I am blown away by the warmth of these people. They are just so friendly and smile and say hello and try to help you find your way.. I have just wanted to kiss these people!! And after everything we've done to them and everything they've lived through- it is really astonishing. I've thought a lot about why and how and who, but I just can't really understand.. Maybe they are just determined to be happy.

There has been so much in the past week..

Ankor Wat for sunrise was a stunning ghostly vision- a vast stone structure built between the 9th and 13th century- a thousand years ago. The feeling of so many years surrounding us quieted us as we climbed around the different stone buildings. We watched the sun climb and the shadows disappear and found strange monk like people sitting in the dark corners. The whole day was filled with ancient history. We explored several different temples- my favorites were Bayon- that has 216 faces carved into the rock from a million angles, staring at you- and Ta Prohm- that has been overgrown by enormous trees with roots that look alive climbing over the rocks.

We finished our day visiting the The Land Mine Museum. Although it is called a "museum" it feels more living and breathing because many victims- mostly children- of land mines live there and play while you read the history of their scars. One of the most disturbing parts of the exhibit is the facts on how many mines each country still keeps (U.S. has so many millions) to use someday.. And haven't we learned our lesson yet?

I guess that is Cambodia- the beauty, the friendliness and the devastatingly sad history. We arrived in Phnom Penh two days ago and made our home in a room that sits on stilts over a green lake.. the fish smack the surface of the water under our floor. This city is full of small treats of beauty and good food. It is really gorgeous in parts and very poor in others. The children are back- grabbing our hands and breaking our hearts. But there is a different feeling in this city of optimism that India doesn't have. I don't know how to explain it really, but I am loving this place.

Today we visited S-21, Tuol Sleng Museum. This is an old high school that Pol Pot converted into a prison, sort of a death row. The day was so moving and devastating that I'm not sure I'm ready to write about it yet. The atrocities happened so recently and we look at the people who smile at us on the streets and think- you lived through this! A courageous people.

Well this is a long one. Making up for silence I guess. So much stored up and I'm sure I missed some- but sending love from Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Easy Rider

We took it eEeeeEeeeasy for a while..... actually-- we took it easy for THREE weeks. So easy that I didn't know what to do with myself, I was even feeling funny about sitting around all day. I never really liked laying on the beach or in a hammock, even at the beach I prefer to be in the water or going for a walk- so it was a bit uncomfortable for me. But not uncomfortable in the way that a mosquito bite would be, uncomfortable the way not getting a scoop of vanilla ice cream with your apple pie would be. I took up reading fiction books. I've always liked non-fiction, but man this week I couldn't wait to get home and find out what "Toby" was going to do next in my book! I wrote a lot of poetry, much of it inspired by India, but in India I couldn't stop long enough to write anything down. But mostly, we ate a lot of good food; fresh fruit shakes, stir fried green curry pork and fish with pineapple and cashew nuts, pad thai, singha beer, fresh bbq seafood.....hey, it was allllriiiight.

I spent a spank load of money too and it wasn't by accident. I was experimenting with my finances I guess. I realized as soon as we got there that we didn't ever leave the beach, so we were saving on taxis and our bungalows were really cheap- even compared to India. And on trips like this its really easy to keep track of your money because it only goes to a handful of expenses: food, taxis, transportation, hotels, internet, drinks, and buying things like gifts or flip flops. That's pretty much it so if you spend a lot on a few of these you just back off the others and you stay on budget. It's much better than being at home where we have 10 to 15 different bills changing amounts every month....especially when Sprint needs to cover overhead so they rip you a new bill with surprise fees. I was buying 10 dollar fish dinners at the fanciest restaurants on the cliffs of the ocean these past weeks. Now that it is all over (closing in on 1 month in Thailand in about a week) I came out spending the exact same in India for each month--1000 dollars....The experiment worked. I really didn't hold back, I bought whatever I wanted--I didn't stop, from massages to dinners to internet to drinks....Now I know if we get that 5 dollar hotel without AC and walk to the ferry instead of taking a cab, we can eat like kings...or the other way around...it's our choice. I guess I already knew these things, its sounds obvious, but I never did it. I feel much more comfortable now that I have...

You guys should have seen some of these places that we stayed. Haad Yao: white sand, turqoise ocean, with restaurants and bars lining the beach. We spent most of our nights on our porch though--the bar scene got old and we were enjoying each other's company (plus I had that 'Toby'--little crazy bastard).... We rented a scooter for two days and finally had the freedom to move on our own, a freedom we hadn't had since that red Beamer from LA to NY. We didn't look like Easy Riders though I have to admit, our bowl shaped helmets gave us more of the 'Dumb and Dumber' look--but we had Hells Angel grins. We just explored the island, going from beach to beach to dirt road to cafe to fruit shake place, just doing whatever we wanted. Zaz would just call out on the back and say, "stop, this place looks cool" or "turn right here there's a sign for a waterfall".

I can't speak for Zaz but I'm trying to really be in the moment while we're on this trip, it's never an easy thing to do(for me--and I guess for a lot of people). These stories may sound awesome but when you're actually in the moment-your brain follows with all its baggage- always. We still wonder about what we're going to do with our lives, when will we have kids together?, can I afford college?, or an apartment?, or a car?, or will I love my job?, do I want a job? will I have enough time for my kids? I have been on a few adventures and sometimes you forget that what you're doing is absolutely mind-blowing fun! When you guys send us emails of how we're giving you the itch to travel, it reminds me how wild this whole thing is. Its an experience I want to remember for sure, but much much more importantly its an experience I want to enjoy.

We saw quite a bit of Koh Pangan, we even looked at property for sale(approx $50,000 dollars an acre with an ocean view). We also booked a hotel in person (the only way round here) for the Full Moon Party in Haad Rin. Have you guys heard of this party? Haad Rin throws a huge party where thousands of people show up to dance on the beach to international DJ's once a month on the night of the full moon. It was a little European spring break cheesoid, but we didn't care, we were in India one and half weeks previous, let's rock.

The party IS everything it says it is and we're glad taht we can say that we went to a famous Full Moon party, but when we left (at 9am still with thousands dancing) I asked Zaz, "what did you think of the infamous Full Moon party?" and we both proceeded to make fart sounds with our mouths and turn our thumbs down as we laughed. I don't know maybe we've just been to better parties. We did have fun though AND I woke up with someone else's sandales and thats a
sign of a good

time right? maybe....

I only got this pic just before I fell off a table with 3 other British guys. We made new friends from Seattle to the UK to Ireland to Thailand, and we danced like we deserved it.

We took a few days to recover in a new bungalow on these beautiful granite rocky cliffs for 200 Baht a night (thats 6 bucks!!). The only time we left our bungalow that day was to eat at the restaurant at the bottom of the cliffs. The next day we took in 'Borat' and 'The Beach' at a couch infested lounge bar restaurant that was quiet to cater to the hung-over tourists. Then we hitched a ferry to Koh Tao and stayed in Shark Bay at another cream puff palace with stilts right in the damn ocean....the waves and the rocks under our porch were in a life-long battle to see who is most powerful. It sounded like the rocks had the waves beat when we were there, but on the way out I noticed the sharp, holey, lava rock had some smooth parts where the waves hit. Looks like the waves' might come out on top if they go the distance...

Zaz started prying around asking people why this place was called Sharks Bay. I think she secretly hoped that the bay was shaped like a shark head or something....when we found out there were sharks in the bay that you could snorkel out and take a look at, we were both pretty excited. I really wasn't scared at all about the sharks. I really wasn't. I had seen sharks before snorkeling and I know that most sharks never bother humans. Only tiger sharks and great whites (I think) and I've never seen those. These were reef sharks - they just mame and rip FISH apart with their razor sharp teeth. We swam out where other people were looking for sharks. And when I say other- I mean 2. The large group of snorkelers looking for sharks were now replaced with goosebumps up and down my back. Still not scared though, everyone says it's safe(right?). Zaz and I were in the deep section where we were supposed to be for about 5 minutes when I saw one. It was anywhere from 2 feet to 20 feet away from us and about 4 feet to 18 feet long, my memory has taken those measurements and ran with them--I can't keep up anymore. But it was a shark and I was fucking scared. I pushed that fear down deep to take a closer look and after a little while it whipped its tail into the darkness of the unbelievably alien ocean depths.

When it left I felt a little better--because it really didn't seem to care about us. That gave us the confidence to dip our masks again. We saw two more sharks about 20 feet away on the floor of the ocean. Each one was about 5 feet long and they looked like happy fish, maybe they were siblings we thought. Until one after another they both whipped their tails each twice with enough force to easily juggle one of us, and shot into the darkness. The strength that they showed shook us a bit. Finally as we were swimming in, we saw the biggest and closest one of the day directly to our right swimming in the same direction as we were. This littl' bugga also swam exactly where we were planning on going, so that added to the uh em excitement? I was half thinking what the hell are we doing here and half hoping it would never end. When you look across the top of the calm quiet blue ocean from your mask, you realize that that familar flat blue sight is hiding a lot.

Although it's been three weeks, there isn't much more to talk about. Life isn't as poetic when it doesn't suck. Plus, we didn't meet anyone hardly. It was strange at first how everyone kept to themselves on these islands, but then we loved it. At the end of the 3 weeks when one couple started to become interested in hanging out with us, we hid and made up lies why we couldn't!

We went to a "VIP" movie last night and we saw 300. I don't know about the movie but VIP in Bangkok is the way to go!!! I wish we had pictures but we do not. VIP movies cost 500 baht (14 american bangers), the theatre and the screen are the same size as an average theatre back home but there are only about 20 seats. They are pairs of leather extra wide extra cushiony lounge seats that tilt back with the touch of a button. I'm telling you this movie experience could not be beat. They give you a blanket and a pillow, and there is a small table between the 2 of you that you fill with the usual movie treats--except in this theatre you order from the menu from the "waiter". We tilted the seats back to where we were laying down--it was movie magic. But then we both stumbled and fell when we had to rise to stand for the King's anthem. I didnt know whether to put my hands on my heart or at my sides. What I ended up doing was failing at fitting in.....

I think we're off to Cambodia in a couple of days. What comes to mind is the Killing Fields, the secret bombings during the Vietnam War, beautiful landscapes and paradise. I hope it's nothing I imagine.

gg

a mixed goodbye to another year, another country

I got a sunburn on my birthday- my first in years. I'm not sure what happened really- I think maybe I was just too relaxed to think about danger, about reality.. All day we spent swimming slowly in the coral reef with snorkeling masks suctioned to our faces (the 3rd one from our hotel's basket of sandy wares was finally actually suctioned- before that I was a blind, fogged in mess- and serious comic relief for the gregoire.) It's been many years since I tried scuba diving and I had forgotten the stunning wilderness of the land beneath the water. The fish were intricately designed radiant colors staring at us calmly, curiously as we wove in and out of their lives. One little black and green one even followed Gregg for a long time, swimming in place when gg was still.. We forgot ourselves out there, let the last few months get swept out in the tide. That's why I forgot to put on sunblock.

So after our dinner on the beach- food that they BBQ right in front of you, a long walk and a desert with oreos and ice cream (no chocolate cake to be found in the land of tropical fruits and coconut milk), I lay on my burnt back a long time feeling the fire of forgetfulness and the weight of my body against all of these years.

It is so strange to thread our way in my memory from the snowy peaks of the Himalayas to the burning beaches of southern Thailand. It feels like it must be years, but it is only weeks!

Pelling.
We had to get a special permit to enter Sikkim- a tiny square of land squished between Nepal, Tibet and China- and don't forget Bhutan! Apparently they have been torn between India and China for a long time and have their own (sometimes violent) freedom movement. So India plies them with funds to build their roads and schools in a bid to keep them happy enough being Indian. Funnily (or sadly) enough with this money and freedom from the strict religious rules of Hindu society- they have the highest rate of alcoholism in India. The difference is immediately clear as you cross the border in the quality of the roads- whereas through the Himalayas to Darjeeling was a jarring, treacherous route- the road to Pelling was smooth and gradual.

We left Darjeeling two days after a huge snowstorm buried us on Valentine's Day- our first snow this winter- when we woke to the sounds of cheers from the townspeople in the main square. The electricity was out, and everything stayed closed (and would remain that way until after we left.) We spent the day involved in a series of snowball fights- starting when Gregg was pegged by a middle aged Indian woman giggling wildly and continuing sporadically all day.. the great equalizer.. tourists vs. townspeople townspeople vs. townspeople tourists vs tourists...Our Valentine's Day was a strange assortment of frozen donuts and waxy cookies eaten by our woodstove and crackling candles lent to us by the hotel.


That was the last time we were warm.

Pelling off season was sort of depressing- most of the hotels were missing their top floors and under construction. It poured rain so we were unable to see the mountains surrounding us or take the trek we had planned. Luckily we were with our new dear friends Alex and Beatrice and we sat for hours eating Tibetan momos, drinking milk tea and laughing hysterically at our enormous bodies wrapped in every layer we owned. There was just no way to get warm and we took to carrying the tiny heater we rented from the hotel and plugging it in wherever we were sitting.

One incredible luck of timing was our arrival just before the Tibetan New Year- during the chaam dances. One day we woke early and hiked up to the monastery to watch this ancient ritual. At our hotel an older man had explained to us his sadness that his children aren't really interested in these rituals anymore- they had video games and other distractions and the reasons he had loved it- the once a year chance to eat delicious food and get new clothes- had faded with modernity and easier access to all of these things. I wondered which was better- a real appreciation for the ritual and tradition or good food and new clothes more than once a year.. I understand better the divide at the dances themselves- they were pretty incredible: the colorful masks and costumes, the drumbeat, the slow dances. But I understood after a few hours of this that the appeal would wane in the face of movies and television and other exciting distractions. I even found a small boy monk on a top floor of the monastery turned toward the back window and when I approached him and asked why he wasn't watching the dances he shook his head with disdain and I realized he was playing gameboy!!

We went from Pelling to Gangtok- a more populated city and just a tiny bit warmer (we didn't spend the extra money for a heater) and spent our last days in India there. Our final day in Gangtok we had a thrilling glimpse of the peaks that had been surrounded by fog for most of our stay and it was strange to know that beyond them lay our last stop on this journey: China. I'm glad we finished our trip in India in the far north because I loved the Himalayas and the friendlier people there- it left me with a happier sense of India as a whole.

After the north, even Calcutta seemed gentler somehow and we actually enjoyed our last night there- eating a final fabulous Indian meal and wandering through the streets to find Mother Theresa's tomb tucked away in a busy, poor area- full of tiny shops and people washing in the gutters. I felt a sadness for Mother Theresa- spending her whole life working to heal people and there is India, still full of sickness and poverty.. Gregg said that the answer is probably in education and not charity and I thought of the businessmen in our night train- eating a huge plastic wrapped meal and then throwing it all out the window- I thought he was probably right. Actually, it was funny when they men did this Gregg couldn't help himself and asked- What happens to that garbage? They looked at him, confused and said in gestures that someone cleans it up. We sat there, silent, both knowing that it would never be cleaned up. It would just join the masses of trash piled up everywhere in India, polluting their lives and ruining their country. I left India with a feeling of my relationship with this country being incomplete- I don't think you can go to India and leave without a sense of wanting to change something in the world that allows people to poison themselves.

Gregg has done a wonderful job of explaining our entry into the modern world. The shock and relief and strange rumble in our chest for India. It is a haunted feeling- like a strange dream someone has woken you out of prematurely, or the beginning of a love that you lost and never fully understood. I don't really know how to explain the feeling- I do now understand, however, why people return.

A few words on Thailand..

Pad thai with lime and peanuts and the feeling that right now, you could eat another..

An exotic bird calling out to you from a cage on a porch, whistling a catcall and then proceeds to utter long sentences in Thai. You wish you could understand.

Lying, calm on a chair made only to stretch out on while a film plays, a pineapple papaya shake in your hand, and a sensation that something has just dropped into your lap. You look down and there is the tiniest baby green gecko staring up at you (slightly larger than a fingernail.) You stare at each other and s/he sits quietly for a long time before disappearing to somewhere.. (ring a bell oh small crew at burning man with the praying mantis?)

The girls dancing alone on the dance floor beside you- there may seem no difference, but the divide is huge- she is there for business and a good night is one in which she is pinned under a stranger- and you are there dancing out the sweat of India- feeling free.

The impulse to roll around and lick your hotel room, it is so clean.

The view you have now of the turquoise waters you have only ever read about, sitting on a porch in your own hammock, trying to figure out what has just happened to you and who you are now...

love,
foxy zaza (gregg said i needed a nickname)

ps I wrote all of this on our porch because the internet prices are crazy expensive here- THANK YOU all for your birthday messages, I'll write you back personally when we get to a more connected place..
xxxfrom the island of Haad Yao, Kho Phanang, Thailand

Yeah Ok

Culture Shock. Big Time. We have been in Thailand for 4 nights and 5 days and I now know what "culture shock" means. I've heard the term before but I didn't realize that it had physical effects....I guess I never really thought about what it meant. It might have started with the plane even though it was owned by an Indian company....it was high class! We both agreed it was the best plane trip we've ever experienced. From the meal that was not an "airplane meal" at all to the warm thick blanket and big fluffy pillow-- this airline was no joke. Jet Airways was the name-- keep it in your roledexes. The first thing out of the wonderful flight attendant's mouth was "do you want a scotch or a heineken?" (on the house).....I thought---do you believe this lady? She laughed when I asked how much it was. I never appreciated being laughed at so much. Then the meal came, well I should say the menu came which had a small cafe's worth of food on it then the meal, which was not airplane food. It was real food--like really good food. I had snapper with coconut lime chilli sauce with a side of broccolli rabe and leeks soaked in garlic and oil. Now that I think about it though, the roll was still that round white shit brick that is in every place that is called a "cafeteria" or a restaurant three hours outside of any major city. That was the only negative. The flight attendants were going out of their way, this place was in tip-top shape. Actually, one of the reasons that we booked this airline was because of its "alleged" ties to Al Qaeda. They have been accused of being funded by them......sounded good to me---meaning--- this could be the safest airline in the skies! I was also very excited before we boarded because I noticed that the plane was brand spanking new--it just made me feel like we had a better chance you know? See Al Qaeda's not all bad....

After landing and repeatedly expressing my gratitude to the flight crew, my senses were ambushed. It was Soap. No first it was South East Asian humidity but then it was definitely soap. It smelled like shampoo, cologne, hair gel, clean clothes, make-up, nail polish, new clothes, new cars, new furniture, new paint, new carpet, and maybe best of all Soft Scrub. From that faint hint of Soft Scrub anyone that grew up in the West knew that a toilet bowl was being cleaned somewhere, and after two months in India we both had to go.

The airport in Bangkok is brand new with ultra new infrastructure, cafe's, SIGNS, and all the modern goodies. The bus to the city was EASY to find and book, and didn't involve any bargaining. This woman politely asked us where we needed to go and we rudely steam-rolled her cuz we were used to the Indian "touts"(con-artists in India who prey on people in train stations/ airports and try to sell them a fake ticket or tell them their hotel is burned down so they can get you to go to their hotel of choice). She sweetly asked us again what flight we were on and we thought we'd give her a chance. She gave us directions to where the baggage claim was where our bags were coming out ---AND SHE WAS RIGHT!! I looked out the window to catch a glimpse and I saw brand new Toyota Corollas for taxis, new pavement, clean buses, green grass, and no garbage--wow this is going to be really different. I thought South East Asia would be similar to India economically--another lesson learned.

It continued on the bus ride: speed limits, obeyed traffic laws, clean cars and streets, and kept- up often brand new buildings. Even when we approached the city it looked very modern. I know that there is poverty here but so far we haven't seen it. We got off the bus where there were tons of white people--which was another shock cuz we just hadn't seen any whitey's in a long while. We noticed how weird they are with their hand bags, tattoos, sunglasses, and one splash of fashion. We weren't any different. The Lonely Planet(pretty much our bible---the guide book) described this neighborhood as Bangkok's Greenwich Village. Whether being around the "tourist" area was going to be cool or not, we were too tired to find another spot. Stepping off the bus our senses were smacked again---this time hard. The many new faces, the lighter skins, the different clothes, the dj music blasting from the lounges everywhere, the new shiny cars (I even saw a 1970 mustang), the artists selling their art, tatoo parlors, and the newly painted yellow lines on the street on top of brand new pavement. The city street smelled good- of mango and sticky rice, people dressed up going out, sunscreen!, food being sold, and the many items sold in the many many many tons of many shops and boutiques that cator to these thousands of tourists. It's not a tourist center like times square though, it is like Key West in the East Village for 1/10th the price.

We easily found the hotel we chose in the book and again---wham. Hotel: filled with sun burned westerners on line/ leaving and entering/ smoking and drinking in the lobby, a very nice well dressed staff, granite counter top, brand new hardwood floors, and brand new couches in the lobby, plants everywhere- all opening to the outside without windows so everyone could feel the cooler breeze that dusk offered. To our surprise a room was available and we went to look at it. We almost jumped on the beds and sang, "I Can See Clearly Now the Rain is Gone!....." when the doorman opened the door. New paint, clean sheets, new everything man.....and again the whole thing smelled like soap. The hotel smelled like shampoo, the hallways smelled like floor cleaner, and the room was a mixer of bar soap and detergent. I don't know if it was a mixer of me not showering for a week or the absence of clean places in India, but whatever it was we noticed it. It was hilarious, I kept saying, "I smell soap" and Eliza would say, "I know me too!"

Now I will discuss the best part: THE FOOOOOOOD!!! Those of you who love Thai food have been in our thoughts--because we know how you would be flipping out like we are(fred, jules, jon). Pad Thai. done. Yes whether it's cliche or not it was "our best ever". And now we get to be that annoying pompous guest at your birthday party at a Thai restaurant where we explain that "the best Thai food III ever had was in Baaaaangkok, but this stuff is aaayyght". What can I say? It's freakin sick. Pad Thai is dished out on the street like hot dogs in NY and it costs 30 cents a plate. We went to a restaurant and got it for a dollar 50. We can't walk by these carts without eating something. They sell fish, bbq shrimp, mixed veggies with yellow and green curry, fresh oj, mango with sticky rice, chicken skewers with peanut sauce, and heaps and mounds of other things we know are good but we haven't tried. Its like seeing an entire table full of food at a Thai restaurant back home right on one cart all for the price of one meal--it's driving us crazy.

So like I said, it's been a bit of a shock. We are even looking in the mirror and doing our hair before we hit the bars and restaurants up at night. I wasn't taking showers before let alone spritzing my hair....We were out at a club the other night that a our friend Thomas took us to (he's a friend of Kertsen and Ben from Delhi--remember them from Goa?) where there were only thai people. I actually felt more comfortable at this place because it was bizarre again. Dealing with the modern city of Bangkok was making me forget where I was sometimes. To go from India to a bar in the street sipping cold Margaritas (with ICE!) talking to a guy from Seattle sometimes had me confused whether I was dreaming or not. They convert VW camper buses into bars and serve cocktails out of them, and there are 7-11's with seating outside so you can sit and have a bucket of whiskey and red bull. And right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe with brand new LCD flatscreens and everything looks untouched and freshly painted. They even have recessed lighting up in here...

How does it make sense then that I have been missing India? Because of its vastly different culture, landscapes, and social systems. Where else can you go to a grocery store at 9pm to find 2 men building a fire in aisle 6 just for warmth? Or see arranged marriages, 28,000 foot mountains, or funerals in the streets? One main reason why its so fascinating is becuase its also very safe. There are many scam artists out there and places that look delapitated, but very few times did we ever feel unsafe (I think that has to do with the lack of alcohol and drug culture). I'd go back.

We did leave two amazing friends we made in Darjeeling. Alex and Beatrice. Alex was from France but living in Berlin with Beatrice who was from Germany. We spent about a week with them exploring monasteries, restaurants, and going on jeep trips---all through the Himalayas. We really enjoyed their company. At night before we'd separate to go to our rooms, somebody would always say,"Ok where are we meeting for breakfast?" We really miss them....They even got us thinking about Berlin and asked us to stop by on the way back.... Sounds like an affordable city that has tons to offer, and that's pretty rare these days.

Yesterday we took an actual "luxury" bus(guess in thai--unlike hindi-- it means the same as english) to a boat to an island called Koh Phangan in South Thailand. We heard about this place through Alex and Beatrice( other travelers are the most reliable source for info). This place is a postcard. And not one of those dirty sun-bleached ones- all dusty on the rack at a locally owned gas station--one of those expensive shiny ones you pay alot of money for(they say it's because it's not the standard size it's larger) at the "tourist center" where they sell local hand made goods. We just booked a cabin in the sand with a porch, and a hammock for 7 dollars a night less than 100 feet from crystal clear turqoise blue ocean.................... Yeah Ok!.....

gg

dear everyone

Don't worry, we were not on the train from Delhi yesterday..
love to all and we'll write from Thailand!!

Valentines Day Eve in Darjeeling

to begin this post, I have to pull myself away from our cosy woodburning stove with the crooked pipe.. I must wind my way slowly, treacherously switching back on myself down down down this immense slope of a quiet fog-wrapped existence in Darjeeling, and remember everything messy that came before..

well. Gregg and I have been talking a lot about if we're just burnt out or if the north has just been a harsher more depressing reality- the truth is probably somewhere in between..

From the last post in semi-peaceful Pushkar (yet still full of people who want something from you..) Gregg arose from the sleeping bag like a man reborn.. no more itchy-ness and no more fever, but a little bit changed I think. I can't tell if it was the fever or the reading of Siddhartha with a fever, but he is eating less and feeling overwhelmed by the dirt and pollution.. We think it may be an up and down existence in India, two weeks of exhilaration, two weeks of disgust- that has been my pattern.

We left Pushkar on a night near or on the full moon. We dined at our favorite restaurant (Third Eye- Israeli and delicious- and you can eat the fruit!!) and met two people from China who grew up in New Jersey(!!).. They gave us hints for China and we talked for a long time- the huge yellow moon was rising over the rooftop restaurant and we immediately slipped into that deeper level of relationship that traveling induces.. Our discussion was so intense that I seem to have thrown the bus tickets onto my empty plate and off it went.. We said goodbye before I realized that I no longer had the tickets. A frantic half hour later they were finally found by the chef in a very gooey state and we ran blindly in a vague direction toward someone who was to drive us to the bus.. It was during this rush in the wrong direction that we discovered the homeless, less lovely part of Pushkar- the bright moon lit hundreds of blanket wrapped bodies lying on the sides of the road. I wondered if these were the priests that tried to sell us prayers or the shopkeepers that sold too little. It was a ghostly reminder of our position in this town. By the way, my last day in Pushkar I bought food for a homeless boy that had been a shadow my whole time there. Such a smile!! I felt so badly that I hadn't bought him something to eat each day there- if I had known the joy it would bring him.. I guess I am sort of burnt out of pity- I can almost ignore the children now, almost. But that numbness scares me.

I also had a wonderful time with the cows on my last day. Have I talked about the cows? Probably- they are one of my favorite parts of India. I have to resist petting all of them.. They are just so nonchalant and calm and they never look desperate or sad.. (even though they are often munching on trash and filling their bellies with plastic..) And even though my first day in Pushkar two baby bulls gave me a head butt, separately, one crossing the road to do it. I was wondering if I smelled like competition, probably at that point I did. But my last day I bought a handful of carrots at the market and spent the day feeding their juicy snouts. They were appropriately appreciative- one even followed me for a while pushing her nose into my butt for more- the shopkeepers got a big kick out of that.. I was almost the pied piper of bovine.

We arrived in Agra, cowless, after another hell ride on the bus. WARNING if you are traveling in India, don't take the private buses unless you or someone you know has seen it first. We realized we had probably made mistake when the jeep that was supposed to drop us off at the bus and "show us which bus to take" left us on the side of a dirt road, alone. Several hours later we entered one of the hottest smelliest vaults I have ever had to suffocate in. There was another class system to this bus: the rich on the top with curtains across these cubicle-like spaces, the middle class in seats that lay back so that you were breathing in some one's lap, and the poor who lay, coughing, on the floor beneath our seats.. and all with horrible breath. It was a long night.

Agra. Oh nasty Agra. How could you hold such a stunning tribute to love and death and be such a shithole? The Taj Mahal is a building that I could just sit and stare at for several hours, which I did. Apparently it changes color with the sunset which I didn't actually see, but I was content in just watching the white marble play with the light. So massive and intricate. But built for a woman after she died giving birth her eleventh child. Maybe she would have preferred to have less children and instead see this incredible building, but who am I to say? I did think of her though when I watched it, how often we express our love when it is too late.

And poor yucky Agra got none of the love from the Taj (and it was expensive!!)

It seemed to be our trek through the north was about death and shit with a tiny slivers of beauty shining through the dirt.

Varanasi. We slept in a tomb of mosquito corpses- hundreds of bloody specks covered the walls- and opened our window to the smoke of the burning dead. And below us, still, sat the septic Ganges. To get to this hotel we had to fight mobs of desperate, almost malicious touts that wanted us to follow them and would cruelly give us the wrong directions.. There is nothing more awkward than sweating with your backpack pushing your way through a cremation ceremony. I felt disgusting. And covered in soot. We had heard so much about the magical aspect to this city and we searched for it in every tiny crooked alleyway. I even got up at 6am to go down to the ghats and watch the bathing.. (we decided not to take a boat because when we asked the man at our hotel if the boats ever tipped over he said "sure all the time, but no problem, the tourists can swim.. Gregg stayed in bed) I saw cold wet people and babies covered with rashes, doused in the dirty water. I did not feel moved. I felt haunted and ill. I imagined how beautiful it must have been at one time- before you could see the crap floating in the river and the buildings slowly started crumbling and sliding into the water..
But today this holy city seems a sewage pipe of souls.

And back on the train to Calcutta.. Another city we sort of wanted to skip but instead got sucked in because our train was 8 hours late (!!) and we missed our connection (for which we had given ourselves a mere 7 hours.) We spent several hours starving in the station while fighting for our money, a ticket, a dose of sanity. Finally a saviour arrived- Mother Theresa, actually, in the form of a train ticket sales agent. He did, in fact, equate himself with Mother T. and he said he loved to help people.. until he asked us if we could get him a job in the U.S., we believed him. So there we were in the city with the most beggars in India with no hotel and it was Late! We took the first hotel that said they had room and got a prepaid taxi. When we arrived it was double the price and the taxi driver was illiterate and couldn't understand from the form that we had paid already. The hotel doorman was so dismissive I felt sorry for him and tried to explain- nothing helped. I wonder if he ever got paid. The room was an overpriced nightmare. More cockroaches and dirt. We did have an excellent dinner though, Calcutta's one high point..

Off the next day to the aforementioned paradise. In two days we will be heading to Sikkim for the Tibetan New Year (wooden mask Chaam Festival) with new friends from Germany and France, and then off to Thailand..

We are sending our love for Valentine's Day, we can't send you any good chocolate, but we can send you a heart-stopping view... (and wrap you in yak wool hugs)

love,
eliza