Are you interested in following The Nakavika Project in Fiji? Surely you're dying to know how two grads with no money and a bit of skill will tackle their own self-created humanitarian effort in the Fijian highlands. Surely you're a sucker for beautiful and engaging videos, touching pictures and articulate prose. And surely you've got a few minutes per week to check up on our project and offer us a little moral support. I'm so tempted to do a surely/Shirley joke right about now, but I'll refrain because I'm in the midst of trying to pull you into my world.
Consume & Update: Air Traffic, Hatred and Two Days To Go
Soak it in, boys and girls. This is the last dose for a while! This week's good news...
World Air Traffic in 24 Hours
Really Going Rogue
Numbers 15 and 31 on my Life List mention an inexplicable draw towards countries not easily accessible to foreigners (or just Americans). Well, maybe not so inexplicable...
Pakistan = mountains
Afghanistan = rural landscapes
Cuba = culture and salsa
Digging into the archives a bit, I found Chris Guillebeau's How to Travel to Rogue States, which of course got me salivating for Cuba again. Who knows when my next new country will be blazed and if it could be one of these massive non-trail destinations. Any plans for a trip like this in your future?
When To Put The Camera Away
Visiting orphanages for 30 minutes?
I've been checking out the Acumen Fund this week and found a compelling blurb on travel and documentation called When To Put The Camera Away. Marc Manara makes a comment on our intentions for taking photographs and how they come off to the subject of the moment.
Though the desire to snap a telling shot of reality may seem harmless for the sake of your own memories or appear a good move for the sake of informing others of what you've seen...you may be bruising someone's dignity or making them feel like a mystery species on a game drive.
There are times when I truly wish I could have secretly snapped the photo, but I also think that frequent inner turmoil - when these opportunities present themselves - has a lot of truth and validity. I think spending more time with the people/potential subject matter of the photograph(s) helps smooth over many of the worries one has with taking vulnerable photographs of others.
I get upset when people stare at me, and I get especially testy when people photograph me without my consent (e.g. in Doha, Qatar). I definitely don't want to make others feel the same way, especially when there could appear to be a socio-economic difference and a stress on personal dignity.
Travel and Hate
What has often been a companion of my culture shock is something akin to hatred, an ugly emotion that has the ability to take hold of my soul even against protest. I've come home angry at many things, and though it's not the way I actively choose to be, Joel Carrilet gives me a little comfort in knowing it's not just a massive character flaw. It happens with due cause.
Read Joel's article on How Travel Teaches Us To Hate, and let me know if you find travel's combined effects of love and hate in yourself.
Other Discoveries
Chris Guillebeau's new site for Unconventional Guides
Rolf Potts' interview with new writer and former English teacher in the Marshall Islands
Join in the conversation about Women Hitchhikers over at Vagablogging
Don't forget to have quiet time on the road
28 Things I Wish I Knew Before Traveling
Update on Nomadderwhere
In the coming months, I'm going to be a bad consumer. This will be the last weekly Consume & Update as you've know it until I return to reliable internet coverage, constant electricity and a life not centered in a remote village. However, I will still attempt to keep updates coming on a weekly basis or as often as I can.
The last steps in preparation:
Emptying out the piggy bank
1. Buy mosquito net: check. All supplies in bag: also check. Empty the piggy bank and cash in for dough: oh geez check. The village knows we're coming, and we have two days until departure! Nothing left to do but document every step and meet Garrett at LAX! Our sponsors are stacking up and sending their contributions. We're so grateful for all the people finding this project relevant.
2. I threw a Michael Jackson Dance Party in my basement to fundraise for the project. It involved Dirty Diana martinis, trivia and prizes, black and white food and a chronological ordered playlist with every great hit by MJ ever created. I also dressed up as MJ throughout the decades: the Jackson 5 era, the Bad/Thriller era...yeah, I get carried away. I'll let you know how the event went and how much was raised at a later date.
3. BJB Challenge: Remember this? I wanted to write 20,000 words in my narrative on the Big Journey. This challenge began a month ago, before I had booked the tickets for Fiji. Needless to say I was preoccupied this month to keep up with my own, self-imposed deadline for writing. It was sad, as I continue to grow away from these experiences from 2008. But among other things in Fiji, I hope to find time to write about this experience in the detail it deserves. I'll be a word machine before you know it.
Journeys of a Lifetime in November
Welcome back to my new monthly series on Nomadderwhere, one which highlights the incredible trips one could take in that current month - thanks to a vibrant book called Journeys of a Lifetime by National Geographic. Every month I will pick out a couple adventures from each section in the book in order to provide you inspiration for 365 days from now. Read the brief description to whet your appetite, and click on the trip name for further information (links provided by National Geographic...of course you could be a gritty backpacker and make it on your own).
Across Water
Kerala Backwaters: A gorgeous chunk of an enthralling nation, Kerala is webbed with narrow, seemingly endless channels connecting large lagoons with lush banks. Prepare to live on the water and be sustained by veggie meals and coconut milk.
Nile Felucca Cruise: Aboard a white-sailed falucca on a historical stretch of the Nile, this trip will present mummified crocodiles, ancient architecture and a rural glimpse of Egypt unknown to most.
By Road
The West Coast Road: For me, nothing is more satisfying than seeing oceans and mountains converge. Driving along the west coast of the south island of New Zealand will give you all the vistas you could hope for.
The Forts of Oman: A round-trip drive from capital Muscat offers the viewing of thousands of castle and forts built with mud and stone. They'll have you thinking about Oman's strategic position and its ancient culture.
By Rail
The California Zephyr: "Through the Rockies, not around them" - this train route takes you through the Wild West, starting in Denver and ending in Salt Lake City. Mountains, grasslands, rocky outcrops, the natural works - bring your camera.
The Chiva Express: It's actually a specially adapted bus lacquered in bright colors and murals that transports people from the Andes to the tropics. Travel through diverse terrains while strapped in below or seated on top.
On Foot
The FitzRoy Massif: "Cross icy, rushing creeks, traverse valleys, and circuit lakes" - oh sweetness, who wouldn't dream of traipsing around Mount FitzRoy in Argentina? Remember, it's summer down there!
The Rigsum Gompa Trek: You know you're obsessed with traveling, traveling to the exotic, traveling to the seemingly unattainable areas, and Bhutan is just waiting for your wallet and your open eyes. Why not make that trek next November?
In Search of Culture
Temples of Thailand: It's still going to be hot but not nearly as humid if you travel to Thailand in November for some spiritual awakening along the spine of this content and enlightened country.
Cathedrals of France: The search for culture seems to often be inhibited by the hordes of crowd often present in Europe, but late fall should be a gorgeous ambiance for adoring massive works of stone and mastery.
In Gourmet Heaven
Search for Sushi: I'm still not sold on this culinary obsession, but they say there's no bad time to visit Japan for the real thing. I actually visited the Tsukiji fish market before it was closed off to visitors. That's one fish-crazy country.
Cape Winelands: Africa + Wine = Stellenbosch outside of Cape Town, South Africa. Remember this equation, and when you find yourself in that gorgeous city, you'll know to book a day tour and go after that pinotage!
Into the Action
The Belize Barrier Reef: Get ready for a seemingly endless list of awesome marine life: manatees, sharks, rays, turtles, crabs, fish, and all the coral you could shake a snorkel at!
Elephant Safari: Ride atop a slow-moving pachyderm with a panoramic view of the grasslands of Nepal. Does that spell out "exotic" or what?
Up and Away
Island-Hopping by Air: Fly above some gorgeous granite islands that change color in the sunset light. The south Indian Ocean delivers, and the Seychelles are a great place to see these magical tropics from above.
Great Australian Pub Crawl: Imagine a pub crawl without matching t-shirts, without clomping in your high-heels to each establishment, without ground transportation in between. That's right; fly from pub to pub in the Oz Outback. Whoa, that's serious drinking.
In Their Footsteps
Pablo Neruda at Home: Fly down to Santiago and visit the homes-turned-museums of Nobel laureate (of literature), Pablo Neruda, and you're sure to walk away a little more savvy of the political landscape and attitude of late 20th century Chileans.
A Voyage to the Galapagos: What comes to mind with the words "Galapagos," "Darwin" and "animal utopia?" Your upcoming, awesome vacation in November of 2010, that's what.
How's that brain? Spinning with innumerable desires to traverse continents and climates? Pull out a pen and prioritize your life by putting one or more of these trips at the top of the list. And by planning a year in advance, you'll be quite able to save, prepare, and anticipate the rigors of your adventure in every way. Check back in December for the Journeys of a Lifetime you could partake in next year!
Where are you inspired to travel to next year? Leave a comment and be my new friend.
Video of the Week: World Traveler Intern Highlights
One of my least favorite questions to answer is "What was your favorite part?" Slimming down a trip into the best moments leaves out all the thrills in between and the trip's entirety as a journey, which amplifies the highlights even more. The experience of the World Traveler Internship had an obvious highlight for me: the job itself. Going back to my room at night to write a blog or make a video was fulfilling and affirmed my desire to be a travel writer.
Oh, but if I must tell you what was fun, here are some highlights from Australia, East Africa, India, South Africa, and Fiji.
Consume & Update: Poetry, China and Band-aids
What a smorgasbord! There is great material across the travel community this week, and here are some of the highlights.
Poetry in Motion
This looks like a truly lovely opportunity:
The Amy Lowell Poetry Travel Scholarship is brand new to me and seems like the most incredible chance for those who breathe and move to the rhythm of their reflections. The application is due October 15th for those hoping to receive this honor and travel starting in the Fall of 2010. Where would you travel?
Happy 60th Birthday to One of the Oldest Civilizations on Earth!
Dan Chung creates a video for the Guardian, based in the UK, one which displays the beauty that comes from the interpretation and presentation of little moments in reality. This video displays the reasons why I became interested in photography. Of course, that's all on an unrelated note to the fact that this is about China's 60th birthday. Man, are there a lot of people in China...
Eye Candy
Shannon Stapleton's photograph of a surfer in New York makes me smell fresh air just looking at it.
Spreading the Love
Rolf Potts, author of Vagabonding and feature writer of Ask Rolf on World Hum, answers the question: How can I convince my friends to travel overseas?
...the best way to win over travel skeptics is to humbly allow your overseas journeys to deepen your life. Over the course of many years, as you return from exotic places energized and inspired—with your body (and bank account) intact—your friends may start to take an interest. Once they start barraging you with questions of how and when and where (instead of just why), odds are they’re seriously starting to consider their own international trips...
...A good strategy at this point is to answer the “who” question for them—i.e. offer to have them meet up with you during one of your own journeys. Your companionship and confidence will help allay their fears on that initial overseas trip, and odds are they’ll catch the travel bug in the process...
Wisdom from the Pros
Dan and Audrey of Uncornered Market take a moment to lay out seven habits of highly effective travelers for those of us ready to learn from two people with a lot of miles. And what are these magical tips?
1. Adapt Constantly
2. Make Plans A, B, C, D, E...always
3. Work a Way In. Leave a Way Out.
4. Negotiate and Compromise
5. Tune In. Filter Often.
6. Have Less. Do More.
7. Find a Common Language
Obviously these somewhat cryptic tips have descriptions to be found on the post as well as references to specific instances when Dan and Audrey implemented their tricks. You could be reading - and learning - for hours.
Other Greats this Week
Celebrating in Rio from Intelligent Travel
Hermail: a free e-mail based service that allows any woman anywhere in the world to connect at this site with other females who love to travel.
Vagabondish displays a beautiful photo of Popa Taungkalat Temple in Myanmar
Update on Nomadderwhere
I didn't think it would be possible, but only a couple months after the internship, I'm back on the road! Actually, I'm back on water. I am currently at sea off the west coast of Mexico with my parents and about 4,000 other 60-somethings playing shuffle board and shooting skeet off a Princess Cruise vessel. Stories and photographs will come in the next couple weeks, and if you have any questions about destinations such as Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlan or Cabo San Lucas (or questions about cruises or Mexico), comment below!
Want to help out Nakavika? Under the tab entitled "Behind it All" sits Nakavika village in Fiji, a community at the end of an undulating road through the Namosi highlands, surrounded by thick tropical jungles and topped with a transformative sun. Education is an emphasis for these residents, but health seems to be an afterthought. In the coming months, I hope to plan another trip to Nakavika, Fiji and figure out a sustainable means of providing first aid supplies. If you have any advice on books about first aid, setting up a system for restocking supplies, fundraising and collecting Band-aids and Neosporin, e-mail me at Lindsay at Nomadderwhere dot com. You are also most welcome to donate to this project by going to Nakavika Village and purchasing a box of Band-aids or a tube of antibiotic ointment.
Street Smarts: Transport Scams
Rickshaws in India
Walking around India with glowing blonde hair, parachute pants, and the backpack/daypack humpback/pregnant belly combo is a sure-fire way to indicate, “I’m not from around here.” What does this mean to the rickshaws slowly following your swagger or the cyclists hoping you’ll turn around and want their transport services? Some might see an honest service opportunity while others will only see dollar signs. Unfortunately, many cabbies, rickshaw drivers, and transporters have found ways of making ends meet through games of haggling, deception, and tugging at the heartstrings of traveling passers-by. Even catching a taxi on the streets near your hometown watering hole can prove difficult. All it takes is practice and charm to avoid a driver getting the best of you.
Striking the Deal
Each city, or country, has its own transport scam trends. The best way to identify them is to find someone you can trust – one who does not have an affiliation with transportation. Hotels, clubs, fancy restaurants and many like-establishments have an allegiance to drivers who charge more than the Average Joe Cabbie in order to supply the referrer a commission.
With six hours to spend in Bangkok before flying home, I wanted to shop, eat, and get to the airport by 4:00am in the most economical fashion. I utilized the rapport I created with a patch vendor on Khao San Road to find out what I should be paying for everything from taxis to Thai massages. In the midst of the haggle, I had his full attention as a customer with needs. He had no affiliation with the resident cabbies and nothing to gain from leading me into a scam. He just wanted to make the sale and move his merchandise away from my toxic, penny-pinching ways.
Anticipate the Game
Even if you do discover the correct price for a ride from A to B with a willing driver, with un-metered taxis you’ve only just begun dealing with the mind games of transportation. Some drivers sense your discomfort and attempt to exploit it for the reaction: “I’ll pay anything; just get me outta this cab.” Others may tap into your compassionate side and share their lives, accentuating the struggles, to bump another dollar on the fare. And then, there’s the classic lost-in-translation method that makes a cabbie agreeable and understanding when a price is set and miraculously lose his memory, or language skills, upon reaching the destination.
When it comes to drivers anywhere, I’ve found two things pay off: being amicable and ever-so chatty.
Hot Buses in Brazil
Travelers who make small talk tend to be more comfortable with the situations they’re in, and when we appear comfortable, we seem savvy and less vulnerable to instant inflation. If I strike a connection with my cabbie, the likelihood of getting swindled lessens a considerable degree. Some respond to conversation very well, as to a breath of fresh air amidst a stuffy list of customers. Though you’ll find some that couldn’t be bothered to mumble, not everyone gives the driver the opportunity to share how he’s doing.
This, however, is his perfect chance to recommend places in town that commission him for your visits. Drivers can make the local bargain market seem like a myth.
It helps to anticipate what they may try and call them out beforehand; displaying your awareness of the games they play.
“So I know we agreed on 40 rupees to the Siliguri bus station, but I know you’re going to forget this deal, even though I wrote the fare down on my hand. I’m really hoping you’re an honest and swell guy who claims he has change when he really does.” With this sort of dialogue, it’s all about tone and appearance. Speak kindly and smile the entire time. It doesn’t work any other way. And a word from experience: the more you make them laugh, the better the fare becomes.
Cyclists in Delhi
And when you’re back on North American soil, be sure to watch the meter for extraneous button-pushing for luggage or extra people. Chances are, if you’re taking a cab at home, you know the best routes to take; so you’re likely to notice if your driver is taking you for a costly ride. Again, be a charmer and call him out with a wink and a smile.
When a driver begins telling you things that don’t make sense, making side comments on changes in the route, note the impending inflation tactics. “There’s lots of traffic this way” - “I’ve got twenty-two kids” - “I must go all the way around to the other side” - This is when you assure him how pleased you are that he’s a swell guy who is surely taking the best route and charging the fair amount upon which you both agreed.
The Transaction
When abroad, it’s important to make the final transaction with five simple steps:
1. Thank the driver kindly; 2. Ask any questions you may have about where to go next while you still have his money and, therefore, his attention; 3. Ask for the change beforehand, or as you hand the cash, making sure he knows you’ll wait for it; 4. Thank him again and compliment his integrity while shaking his hand; 5. And, if he gives you problems with the change, don’t let go of his hand and keep smiling (since so many drivers are softies for a smile).
I now look forward to the little battles because it’s not just my mission to pay the right price but to befriend and amuse the driver for the short time that our paths converge. Looking at these moments in your trip with dread will take away from your opportunities to make great exchanges several times a day. It’s unfortunate we’ve come to expect dishonesty from those on which we must rely abroad. Reward the drivers who exhibit their integrity, and hopefully this act will ripple to benefit future travelers looking for a ride.
Journeys of a Lifetime in October
I welcome you to a new monthly series on Nomadderwhere, one which highlights the incredible trips one could take in that current month - thanks to a vibrant book called Journeys of a Lifetime by National Geographic. Every month I will pick out a couple adventures from each section in the book in order to provide you inspiration for 365 days from now. Read the brief description to whet your appetite, and click on the trip name for further information (links provided by National Geographic...of course you could be a gritty backpacker and make it on your own).
Across Water
Yangtze River Trip to the The Three Gorges: A trip in early fall through some incredible, mountanous landscapes could coincide with October 3rd and the Chinese Harvest Moon Festival.
The Mangoky River: Madagascar's baobabs and the "slowly-slowly" mentality of the land give me two reasons to desire floating in an inflatable raft across the tip of the big island. October is the last month of reasonable weather before the ghastly heat sets in.
By Road
The Fall in Vermont: Does my longing to going on a fall foliage drive make me an old lady? Either way, I don't care if it means I get to log miles around a beautiful chunk of America and potentially camp out in the cool nights between drives.
The Dolomites: Northeastern Italy gets great weather and less tourists than usual in October, which is perfect if one desires to see sky-splintering peaks, Alpine pastures, and still speak l'Italiano all the live-long day.
By Rail
The Reunification Express: After reading Catfish and Mandala, making the 1,000 mile jaunt across Vietnam seems like a trip worthy of filling numerous journals and marking off loads of "once-in-a-lifetime" experiences from the list. This train would make this trip possible, that is if you're not a crazy/cool cyclist relying on your two wheels.
Trans-Siberian Railroad: Fall colors, warm days, and cool nights - that's quite a list of benefits for traveling from Moscow to Beijing in October via a world famous train ride. The trip takes one week
On Foot
Greenwich Village: True, this area can be enjoyed any time of year, but the crispy atmosphere of fall makes pleasant a couple days of perusing galleries, visiting Edward Hopper's house, and eating at former speakeasies, like Chumley's. Maybe you'll get inspired to "keep moving" while taking in Figaro Cafe, a hang-out of the "beat generation".
The Inca Trail: Dry weather meets the hearty soul that wants to trek through the thin air of the Andes in October. Machu Picchu, Huayna Picchu, and loads of misty sights are calling you...
In Search of Culture
Treasures of Jordan: October is just as great a time as any to hire a car in Amman and hit up some ancient relics of the past in the Middle East. Fancy yourself an Indiana Jones as you bound around the ruddy sandstone of the Treasury of Petra.
India's Golden Triangle: I can attest to the fact that going on this trip in the heat of summer is just plain mean to your boiling spirits, but alas, the relief that comes in October! Agra's Taj Mahal at sunrise, Jaipur's Amber Fort and Rajasthani culture, and Delhi's urban jungle are real experiences to be photographed, reflected upon, and absorbed into the mind forever. Read my blogs from the Golden Triangle here.
In Gourmet Heaven
Bourbon Trail: Another prime opportunity to see good fall color while sipping some classic American spirits. Even though we Hoosiers are supposed to make fun of Kentucky, I've always been a fan of the horse farms and Appalacian foothill country, and I'd imagine pumping some whiskey into the equation wouldn't hurt it!
Central Valley Wine: Go from fall to spring, harvest to planting season, with a trip to Chile for some grape guzzling. The Andes are supposedly visible from every vineyard in this region, which has a unique climate sure to cause some exciting fermentation to occur. Go skiing, walk along the beach, and then go find some good wine in the hills.
Into the Action
Polar Bears in Canada: October marks the start of a great bear-watching season annually, and Churchill is known for their outsized bears. Not as elusive as the tiger, but apparently just as easily camouflaged into their surroundings; a couple days looking for polar bears sound like thrilling days well spent.
Sea Kayaking off Baja: I know I'm going to be taking full advantage of being around Baja in October by partaking in a gorgeous and exciting activity: sea kayaking. Rocky cliffs edging an ample marine world in the blue Pacific waters; it's the stuff of dreams. Check back for upcoming blogs on this very activity.
Up and Away
Flying High in Paradise: Take a heli for a spin (don't worry, you're not driving) around the volcanic islands of Hawai'i, where you'll be dumbfounded by how green and undulating the converging ridges appear. Great weather and better prices will please you in October. I've experienced this flight and loved it.
Fly the Coral Route: Tahiti, Rarotonga, Samoa, Fiji, Auckland, Dreamland - it sounds like purging your wallet for an aerial island-hopping experience in the South Pacific couldn't disappoint if it tried. And with October providing some drier conditions, you'll be able to see the blue silk in 360 degrees around you.
In Their Footsteps
On The Road after Kerouac: Though my opinion on Kerouac's instant classic novel is still unformed, I can't deny the pulsing urge inside me to hop in a car and take I-80 as far as it will take me. Maybe that makes his work a success in that it instills the desire to move for the sake of moving. From New York to San Francisco, such a road trip would be quite a thrill to take while reading the novel and hitting up Denver and Chicago along the way, not to mention the great weather October would bring across the entire stretch.
The Silk Road: Avoid the extreme weather conditions by traveling in October through western China to Turkey and some of the world's oldest inhabited cities. The spanning cultures are sensory-linked with landscapes that could slap a yak with amazement.
How's that brain? Spinning with innumerable desires to traverse continents and climates? Pull out a pen and prioritize your life by putting one or more of these trips at the top of the list. And by planning a year in advance, you'll be quite able to save, prepare, and anticipate the rigors of your adventure in every way. Check back in November for the Journeys of a Lifetime you could partake in next year!
As this is a new series, I'd love to hear your feedback on the effectiveness of this concept. Leave a comment and be my new friend.
Red Rock, Roadkill, and Rough Transit: Days 18/19
Our penultimate Oz experience was nothing short of a red rock smorgasbord. King's Canyon had a steep start and a smooth finish as we hiked around this fault line in the Earth's oldest crust. Nature and rock are gorgeous themselves, but for some reason, we felt it necessary to complement the experience with our own humorous interpretations of the red rock. Chris made it very clear he knew absolutely nothing about the terrain, and I had a ball feeding him lines like "This looks like Grandma's Elbow Red Rock" or "This should be entitled Teenager's Complexion Red Rock." We're so global and mature.
Descending the canyon, our fingers swelled from the blood flow and feet ached from stomping around six kilometers of hard rock. We happily boarded our luxury overlanding vehicle to sleep and relax for the five hour drive back to Alice Springs. Upon parting with our tour and very cool guide, we had two objectives for the evening: to buy mad loads of internet minutes and to eat the most uncommon meat we could find. In between our feverish bouts of work all night long, we took the much needed break to have dinner at Bojangles, the local famous saloon that served the meat lover's platter with our names on it.
We chewed around some kangaroo, crunched into a crocodile spring roll, sawed into an emu sausage, and topped it all off with two pitchers of beer we mistakenly ordered. Who knew "lost in translation" moments could happen in countries that speak your native tongue! Two beers please. Two pitchers?! Well, okay, that will have to do!
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DHVoUXFBgc
We made the long walk back to our hostel (the fourth time I made this jaunt that evening since I forgot my ID and needed it to get into the ever-so classy and popular saloon) and passed some shadowy characters in the night. Someone on our Fiji tour announced to us that Alice Springs wasn't the safest of destinations, and I think we figured out why this was the case. Unfortunately, the stats on Aborigines in local society do not describe great birth rates, high literacy, or many things positive at all, and considering the fact that Australia only formally apologized to the original Oz inhabitants only LAST YEAR for their horrible treatment for centuries, it's understandable that they are hurting as a group.
And then began the process of sleeplessly uploading our many, many blogs, photos, and videos from both Fiji and the most recent tour. We froze outside near the only wireless hotspot, trying to meet our deadlines, but ended up getting slap-happy and playing games of "Slap the Bag" with the boxed wine our tour guide gave us. What professionals we are. We boarded a bus the next day at 11:45am, which started our 27 hour transit period between the smack-dab center of Australia and the steamy capital of India. For 2 hours, we were bumping and cramped, sleepy and hungry, disoriented by time and location, and increasingly concerned for Chris' swelling ankle. That thing got massive, and he developed a disturbing limp.
But that all didn't matter. We were heading back to a country both of us have not only experienced but grown to love. We were destined for the Subcontinent. Hindu country. India. Oh, and on the way...we saw Mt. Everest.
Morning Ponderings at Kata Tjuta: Day 17
My favorite time of day is without a doubt the pre-dawn hour. Observing a blackened sky that slowly rotates toward the sun gives me the feeling that I can watch the Earth move. And the colors of light in the pure atmosphere, refracting off lush mist, bring to mind Monet paintings, along with others who understood the power and beauty of the pastel. Unfortunately, my body finds the early morning repulsive and demands rest when the world is waking. However, give this lifeless corpse of mine an activity amidst natural wonder, and I become alive with the spirit of the dawn. My feet scrambled up the rocky paths to Kata Tjuta. The sun's first peek set the massive rocks on fire. This was my time of day, my type of setting, and my ideal way to spend my hours on this Earth: hiking among natural wonders.
A short geological explanation (the details of which I can't seem to recall, sadly) of why these 36 rock domes occur in the middle of a flat desert plain made me briefly contemplate the ground I stand on. How can the World be so old that over the course of its existence, all this land we see was underwater, slathered and molded by the tides, squeezed and pushed by other tectonic plates, and still continues to move and shift before our very eyes (ever-so slowly, of course)? We gotta stop complaining about being too old to stay up late or remember what we did yesterday. We're babies on this planet, babies I tell ya!
And so, as we wandered in between these massive monoliths, the breeze whistling through each hump and affirming the name Valley of the Winds, I gazed as the rising winter sun of the Australian Outback, looking through layers of atmosphere, mist, and space. Along with my extreme awareness of each [potentially] ankle-rolling step, I felt incredibly connected to the home planet. And with our sighting of a wild camel pack moments later, I felt even more like a primordial animal wandering for purpose and necessities across the crust.
The Outback: its trippy.
Rocks, Man...Rocks: Day 16
After coming off a trip all about connections with people, I will admit I found it hard to enthusiastically jump on board a tour of rocks. What used to be one of the most remote locations on planet Earth, Alice Springs in Australia, was an easy plane ride for us into the dry interior. And the luxury overlanding vehicle we rode in took every harsh aspect of the impossible terrain out of our minds. It was understandably easy to at first under-appreciate the wonders and experiences that were soon to be ours.
Australia’s Outback is probably the hardest place for anyone or thing to survive, and to completely comprehend the age of this place is virtually impossible for the human mind. You know Pangaea? Yeah, this place is older than our former single continent. And to realize how minute and insignificant your presence at these multi-million year-oldies is could surely cause some severe existential issues.
Humbling. But that’s not why I like coming to these places.
When it comes to connecting with a location, an environment, something inanimate, here’s what I do. I coexist with it, make an experience never able to be recreated, invite that thing into a moment with myself. Does it sound like I’m talking a lotta crap? Ney.
At Ayer’s Rock, I decided to wander her periphery and experience the awe and grandeur from below. I popped in my earbuds and started dancing around the place like no one could see me. Every new song brought me to a new part of the rock that looked dramatically different than the last vista, and I snapped my shutter like a photo-crazed fool. What resulted was an experience no one else was having.
For that one moment in her long, LONG life, Ayer’s Rock and I were dancing partners.
Oz is Scary, Dorothy Agrees: Day 15
Even though I’ve hiked through Yeti country and bush camped in East Africa among wild buffalo and hyenas, never have I been so afraid to walk around a country as I was when I got to Australia. This place could hard core kill ya. What a statement to encourage tourism in Oz!
But really, I say this because of the research I did on this country/continent. Bill Bryson, in his book In A Sunburned Country, mentions that the top ten most venomous, dangerous, poisonous creatures on the planet all live on, or in the waters surrounding, this massive island. If the crocs in the mangroves don’t snatch you off the pier, then maybe the box jellyfish will whip you with the World’s deadliest sting while swimming at the reef. Or maybe you could just be that unfortunate one that sits down on a toilet seat where a poisonous spider has made its home.
Gives ya the heebie jeebies, huh?
The reality, as it is in most countries, is that you’re more likely to simply get hit by a car crossing the street than you are to encounter the trigger-happy animal kingdom. But the fact that Australia has such hard core creatures (and terrain!) has certainly altered their mentalities. They live fast. They live like they’re still young. They travel. They do ballsy things. They seize life by the huevos and cheers to it with their incredible beer drinking abilities. They’re fun-loving, adventure seeking people who know that nature and fate have the ability to take what’s theirs at any time, making them the kind of people that live enviable lives.
Oz is where the young and young at heart can write their big life stories. I’ll take a page from their book and work my youth like it’s my job…which it is, right? ;)
That's a Big Ol' Island: Day 14
Chris said it right. Our descent into Sydney revealed a coastline that seemingly never ended. This is the country/continent I've been reading up on for the last month, and never have I been so scared of a country's wildlife than I have coming into Australia. And after being all over East and Central Africa, I think that's saying something. I couldn't wait to giggle at everyone's accents, and Chris welcomed back civilization with open arms. I was still bumming off our departure from Fiji, but boy was this a cool city we stood in. Looking at our itinerary, we knew we were heading for an ultra-modern, powerhouse of a hostel for the evening. Wake Up Sydney wins international hostel awards, and being two travelers who love to find the hidden gems and steer clear of the easy path, we were very skeptical we'd enjoy this stopover.
But when Christian, the general manager, awaited our arrival out of customs, we got the pleasant surprise of seeing the personable side of the institution. He dropped our things at the hostel after hooking us up with all the amenities and took us for a drive around a very wet coastal city.
Chris instantly fell in love with the place, which called to mind his home in the Bay Area. I was just plain blown away by the sheer size and expanse of the harbor, surrounding houses, buildings; it was all so cosmopolitan...and huge!
"There's where Russell Crowe lives, up on that entire top floor."
"Here's the best view in town of Harbor Bridge and the Opera House."
"This is where the massive New Year's Eve celebration occurs every year. The place is absolutely packed and rowdy. We're already booked up for the holidays!"
It probably didn't make it easier coming from a remote Fijian village, but I was more in culture shock of Sydney than of little old Nakavika.
Christian offered to take us out for drinks that night and give us the opportunity to see the Opera House become alit by an evening light show, and it was our best intention to make that happen. But, a lack of sleep, a pile-up of work, a need to shop and eat, and power up for the Outback stopped us from doing Sydney right.
We're both determined to return; needn't we worry. And neither should you.
Why I’m coming back to Fiji
Yes, people are wonderful all over the world, and we often forget how helpful and open those we meet in transit can be. But there’s something about the Fijian mindset and attitude that makes your heart long to weave fern mats for your home on stilts and play a muddy game of rugby with your village mates during a golden sunset.
At the office: Days 12/13
At the office
And then the real work began. After over a week of so many people catering to our needs of creating stories and footage, we had to hunker down in our hotel room and make some game plans for production. It was sad how long it took us to learn that we had a Fijian power adapter and could charge all our hardware. And once we learned the ropes, we were off.
The next day, we said our goodbyes and thank you’s to the Madventure clan and piled our bags into a taxi, blazing the trail to Nadi, where we would catch a flight the next morning. Our hostel turned office blasted the techno and rap music until the wee hours while we pulsed to the music, buds in ears, working feverishly on making content.
Office time came to a close, and we boarded a very large plane (on the top deck, might I add) to Sydney, Australia. We were both truly sad to see Fiji go, as the country made a solid impact on us. The view from above made me long to be on the land again, but this job has no room for spontaneous plan changes and sentimentality. It’s a go-go-go lifestyle to see the big, big world.
But we know we’re going back some day, and it will be up to the Highlands for us. Oh, sure there may be a beach squeezed in there somewhere to rid us of these nasty farmer’s tans, but Fiji really spoiled us from the get-go. We now know the feeling of being completely connected to the destination and have a high meter stick with which to measure the rest of our adventures.
But I think Australia won’t have trouble measuring up.
Back to Sugar City: Day 11
At 4am, I arose to pack my bags over a sleeping six year-old. At 5am, I pulled my bags onto the billiard table and waiting for the call to the carrier. At 6:30am the mosquitoes claimed victory over my right leg as we crawled up into the carrier, which would take all the volunteers and a scattering of locals down the mountains into the city of Sinatoka. We waved goodbye to some sleepy and sad faces. The village was in our wake. When we hit asphalt, I pulled my Blackberry out so fast, I nearly elbowed the girl next to me. One week without internet made Lindsay an anxious girl. How sad. But once we boarded the bus to Lautoka in the city, I peeled myself away from facebook notifications and twitter updates to hang with Abel in the back, listening to my iPod and his favorite song on repeat (My heart will go on by Celine Dion...seriously). The speedbumps sent us flying into the air and crashing down with a back crack and big laughter. The open windows threw my hair around in a frenzy. And the views never let up from being awe-inspiring.
After a week of sharing kava bowls and receiving a rough nutritional spread, I acquired my first WTI travel bug...and not the good kind. I didn't feel much like hitting the bar hard with the other travelers, and instead Abel invited me to hang with him at his brother's house in the city (since Abel came back with us to work for his future school fees for two months).
Brother Elia's house shook from the little pounding feet of two children, Kenny and Faresa, both male, cheeky, and energy-packed. While dinner cooked in the kitchen, I received playful slaps from the two year-old, Kenny, that got me right in the kisser. He had a face smeared with his earlier dinner, and a laugh that meant mischief and ulterior motives. He was, in a word...hilarious.
Abel and I ate together a meal of noodle soup, village taro, and pig skin, and because of my subtle uncertainty with devouring slippery, jiggly pig, Abel sensed I was disgusted and began to beat himself up. He spoke only one or two words during dinner and nearly cried for being a bad host. I felt awful that I couldn't scoop the pig skin into my mouth feverishly, which would have been the only thing that would ease his worries, but I reassured him over and over that I loved the meal...I was just not as hungry as he was. Those from the villages in Fiji have such an innate desire to care for you, and when Abel thought I wasn't receiving a meal up to my normal standards of apparently royal feasts, he grew upset with himself. Had he only known how happy I was to still be soaking up village culture and company, he wouldn't have felt so sad.
The long meal drew to an end, and Abel went outside with his brother to pound some fresh kava for a small savusavu, or welcoming ceremony into the new household. Meanwhile, I created games that broke through the firm language barrier by making sounds with my mouth, creating rhythms of slaps and punches in the air to be repeated, mainly just doing anything that would entertain two kids who would quickly turn to violence if bored.
Abel and Elia welcomed me into their Lautoka home, and after a few bowls, I lounged by the mother of the household to gab about the boys. Her abilities to predict their next moves and behaviors was stunning.
"Next they are going to play a slow love song and start blinking for longer periods of time. That's the difference between men and women kava drinkers: we throw on the party tunes and gab while the men want to wallow in sweet songs and fall asleep. We're more fun."
As the rest of the Madventures group was bouncing around Ed's Bar, I was glad to know I was still connected with the village I just left behind. It made sense to be there, and it was yet another moment I cherished in the moment and beyond.
Last Day with Second Families: Day 10
Our final day in the Fijian village had quite a build up. I must have answered the question "What day are you leaving Fiji and the village" about twenty times during my entire stay, unsure as to why they were so anxious to know my departure date. I believe they were just gearing themselves up for the big day when we say our goodbyes and experience one final jolt of the "True Fiji" culture. I took it fairly easy during the day with a writing session and a swim at the waterfall, and when lunchtime finished, I leaned to my side and suddenly passed out cold, as if I had really done any real labor that day. I awoke to a bunch of ladies weaving fern mats around me and giggling as little Pio, my host cousin, took photos of my groggy state.
During my waterfall adventure and delicious nap, my host parents constructed a lovo, or underground oven with firewood, stones to be heated, coconut shells holding various foods, and banana leaves to cover the entire situation. The grub finished with an aromatic uncovering in the dark of evening. Fane dressed me in one of her grand sulus and a flowery lei, and we all walked with food in hands to the party down the path at Chris' house.
A tablecloth stretched the length of the room on the floor, with plates scattered at intervals of various noodles, taro, and lovo goodies. We joined the men watching rugby on the TV (Chris' house was pretty set up) until Moji announced our turn to thank the village formally for the entire week.
"I just want to thank all of you for being a part of this experience. I want to thank my lei and my nau and my new friend and sister, Bui, for their hospitality. I had so much fun doing everything and nothing with you. From the kava sessions to just hanging out, it was incredibly fulfilling. I know you all just be aware of how lucky you are, to live amidst such a wonderful landscape and among such wonderful people. I have to make it back here, THIS YEAR!"
That was the gist of my announcement. Words of appreciation and love exchanged among everyone and clapping commenced after everyone's speeches. And then we went to business on the food for a couple hours.
With two dollars in my hand, I walked in the dark behind Fane to a private area in the village, an open air building where fundraising dances took place. As the pop/island music blasted into the quiet night, we shimmied our leis and sulus, kicking up the dusty soil into a fog. Chris would spontaneously whip out his Ace Ventura dance moves, while I would be challenged by the village ladies to ask multiple men to dance (using my new line "Au nakwati e koko daro danisi" or "I want you to dance with me"). Traveler Tom had moves that would stop Michael Jackson in his tracks, and the entire house was shaking with laughter and hilarity.
Most of the men sat on one side of the building drinking kava and occasionally looked to see what all the fuss was about on the dance floor. It resembled a middle school dance in a sense. My feet were the color of milk chocolate by the dance's end and my body limp from exhaustion. The next morning we would leave, and I couldn't have imagined a better way to bid it adieu...dancing to Akon.
What Little Work and Plentiful Play: Day 9
Being a “volunteer” in this village of Nakavika seemed to barely have the connotation that any work would be done by you. Given we came on the weekend and had to do no labor, I assumed Monday would crack down on our fun time with some blood, sweat and backaches in the farm. Ah, but the village spokesperson said nothing needed to be tackled that day. So Tuesday came, and I was sure the work would pile on, but the reality of this program became very obvious when our first big job was to dig a 3’ x 3’ plot with three shovels among ten volunteers. They had no need for our lagging Western manual work ethic or inabilities to perform in the equatorial heat. Though we seemed to make some productive use out of our time by finding firewood, so concluded our work portion of the village experience.
What was blatantly evident though was that our purpose for being there: to share, learn, and know they live the good life. A commonly repeated phrase was “the true Fijian life”, uttered by every villager hoping you’re picking up the meaning. They know they are lucky, and so are you for being there among the idyllic and paradisiacal world of Fiji’s interior.
When I walked back from the farm with a vine backpack filled with firewood, the sight of me melting seamlessly into jungle life tickled my host mom, Fane. I turned around and took off for waterfall again, this time with the other travelers for a quick dip. I was one of the few that knew where we were heading, so I led the way into the slick jungle belly towards the watery stairway. There was lots of screaming due to the frigid waters, and I sprawled my body across a fallen log below the falls to rest as the squeals continued.
The kids at the village school have daily activity time once the academics are done, and we travelers decided to join the hilarity by partaking in the schoolyard sports and games. While Chris and the boys took the future rugby stars for games and drills, I went with the ladies to entertain the younger crowd of ruffians.
Deciding to kill two birds with one activity, I turned this time into a work-out for myself and led the kids on obstacle courses, performed gymnastics, and pumped out some push-ups while counting in Fijian. My bones and joints were in shambles by the end of it, as I actually thought I could try and keep up with the kids. I needed a good subsequent rubdown.
That night my host mom told me we were hosting a kava session at our house, which I was always cool with, and to join us were some ladies of the village and about half the traveler crew. As the evening progressed, roughly 20 rowdy men and women squeezed into the kitchen area where the kava bowl sat (an area the size of the Empire State Building elevator). Chewing on mango skins to rid the taste of kava, I bounced my head to the rhymes of Fiji's own Sammy G and told my friend, Weiss, all about real American "gangsta" music, as if I'm a connoisseur.
My night closed with an eventful full moon stroll around the village, where my presence had a strong shadow and my head was covered with stars.
Cookin’ Old School Fijian Style
It was my great pleasure to witness the incredible hospitality of the people in the Namosi Highlands of Fiji. Not only did they make sure we were properly fed and watered at all time of day, but they made every aspect of their village culture into a lesson learned by us sponge-like backpackers on a mission to absorb the true Fiji. Only a couple hundred years ago, Fijians were picking their teeth with the bones of men, that is until cannibalism was wiped from their list of approved behavior. And with that outside influence also came luxurious items like pots and pans, which made cooking much easier than the techniques they used before.
My friend, Ambele (or Abel in English), was the first to jump at the opportunity to show us how it all used to be done here in the Highlands with two techniques: cooking in bamboo shoots and using an underground oven called a lovo.
Taking a young and fresh bamboo segment, Abel placed some cassava down nature’s pipe, filled it with water, and covered it with taro leaves. Putting this on the fire for about a half hour or more created an end product that tasted as smooth and luscious as a sweet potato.
The lovo consisted of a rolling fire that heated up stones sitting on top, after which the fire is put out and stones are covered with taro chunks and coconut shells filled with taro leaves and other jungle goodness. A little banana leave coverage makes this baby cook up a mean feast within an hour, one which we graciously enjoyed on our last night in the depths of the Fijian interior.
What made these cooking lessons that much sweeter were the kids who popped in and out of my video production, posing for the camera and teaching me phrases like “Au nakwati na tavioka” (Gee golly, do I like cassava!).
Bamboo Bear Grylls: Day 8
Bui and I could only appreciate a few games of “Last Card” before one bite of breakfast had her running for school Monday morning. I took my books and journals to a mat on the patio for a little writing when Abel joined me for a quick lounge and giggle. The important thing to note about village life is the emphasis on relaxation. Note it. Do it. Love it. Chris, Lina, Moji and I grouped together in the late morning to head out for an exciting program by the river. Hiking in flip-flops proved a bit difficult, but we were soon bounding from rock to rock barefoot by the flowing waters that cut into the jungle’s core. We forged rapids, stumbled on mossy boulders, and ended on a small beach beside a bamboo forest. Moji chopped away about ten shoots and assembled them into a trusty raft, with our ever-so useful helping hands,of course. I felt so Bear Grylls, I attempted an English accent that turned into an Aussie one…which I didn’t even know I could do.
Once the raft was sea-worthy, we floated about 10 meters away to a trickling spring on the other side, a hot spring that spewed 80 degree water with a sulfuric twist. Chris, our gondalier, wasn’t content with just moving across the river after all that hard work of tying knots with vines, so he pushed us towards the rapids downstream.
The waters were at best about two feet deep and incredibly rocky. Our vessel tried to skewer a couple boulders and toss us into the river before it finally wedged itself into a pool for an eternal rest. The walk back through the rocks gave us red and bloody knees, but the laughs induced by the mini-adventure on a self-made raft were worth the potential for wound infection.
Walking back upstream the way we came, Moji and I attempted a little prawn fishing with one pair of goggles and a young bamboo stick topped with ten rusty nails. I tried getting one school of fish for about 20 minutes, continuing to jab and announce, “Aw, I came so close!”, and Moji humored me by letting me continue, adding later that "it always seems like you’re just that close". Touche.
The climax of the program was certainly the literal high point…and the last event of the adventure: a 30+ foot cliff jump into teal, chilly waters. The crawl up the mossy rock face was nearly as scary as the impending plunge, and upon reaching the final step before the jump, I nearly busted my own vocal chords with spontaneous screams. It took about three minutes of nervous dancing, slow countdowns, and self-encouragement to rock myself to that point of no return. I had enough time to scream twice until my feet and outstretched arms broke the water surface. It was a slap heard ‘round the jungle.
Of course it took Lina, Moji, and Chris a combined 20 seconds to do their jumps (twice might I add). Advice for others: don’t look down.
We returned to the village by the singular dirt road entrance and indulged in belly filling meals on the floor. Soon after, Fane pulled out a sulu and shirt for me to wear to the school, where I was going to volunteer a little time to unintentional complete classroom distraction.
Lina and I wanted to offer any services we could provide in order to make some progress, but what usually occurs in these situations is a rowdy, screaming classroom with one or two kids actually following your instructions as opposed to just giggling at your outfit. Our social studies lesson on “How Roads are Made” didn’t change mindsets or anything but hopefully taught one person how to draw a road cross-section. So useful in the practical world.
When my time as a Fijian village teacher expired, I changed back into my appalling Western attire in time for Abel’s lesson on cooking with bamboo. It was a practice from the days before pots and also one that is used on modern day picnics. As the cassava boiled inside the young bamboo shoot, the kids giggled wildly, running in and out of my video footage. Abel taught me how to say some hilarious and simple phrases, while older women walking home from the farms stopped to laugh at my attempts. The cooked cassava was as soft as a well-cooked sweet potato, and just as sweet. We ate it with our fingers while practicing ballet moves and more phrases until the darkness settled.
With the night came a few more travelers from Lautoka, our friends from the Madventure house, and many of us ate together by candlelight in my host uncle’s home next door. The kids, Bui and Pio, played with the wax from the dripping candles and created a guessing game for after-dinner entertainment.
Why is it so easy to have a completely lovely day in a place so secluded from our favorite vices, activities, and daily pastimes? I think it’s because life is meant to be simple. Simple and vibrant. Like a Fijian village.
Kava and Waterfalls: Day 7
Bui’s knees in my back and adorable, obvious rustling in bed wake me caused a laugh to accompany my first breath of the day. She had spotted something in my bag that she liked, so I proceeded to pull out the bag-o-tricks from my sister-in-law that included bubbles, a very high-pitched whistle, a hypnotizing hourglass, and a flower for her church-ready hair. Instead of going with Chris and a fellow traveler named Lina to the next village for family time, Abel offered to take me on a little trip to a nearby waterfall. Bui jumped on that bandwagon with a smile that spanned her entire face. And as we walked, more children tagged along, sliding down muddy slopes for the poised camera and pointing out the sensitive fern before cautiously stepping over its little thorns.
The first waterfall was like a natural stairway with cascading clear waters making the descent a little dicier. Some of the kids plummeted into the teal pool with us while others remained on top, shouting down to us and each other, as excited as though this were a candy store shopping spree. The water was as cold as it was wet, but we disregarded this discomfort by trying to balance on a fallen log like American Gladiators.
Across the pool, Abel and I climbed onto some flat rocks shaded by a fantastic tropical canopy to find a second and much more deadly waterfall. Dropping a large rock down, he demonstrated what would happen to our heads if we jumped. Obliteration. We sprawled there for a while, talking about the village and America, while fluorescent spiders walked by our resting chins that overlooked the ledge. The kids on the other waterfall sang and danced for our attention.
When we came back to the village, hair dripping and laughing, my host parents and all their friends were lounging in the yard, drinking kava, sharing a sticky bowl of colorful popcorn, and awaiting my inclusion. The adults and parents posed for photos as enthusiastically as the kids and pulled me into the frame for a few shots.
We moved the party inside my house when the clouds began spitting, and for the next three hours, I witnessed a hilarious evening among lifelong friends that included my serving of tsunami bowls to every man, card tricks, riddles, and childhood games. Sometimes the volume and amount of laughter during certain Fijian games caused me to believe they weren’t so family friendly, at which point I would turn my head left and right asking anyone, “What’s so funny?”.
Abel, while mixing bowl after bowl of kava, asked me to put my camera on video mode while the men harmonized songs of pride and love for their country and countrymen. 15 to 20 men closed their eyes to reach high notes and perfect tones in a concert just for me. My eyes fluttered by lamplight to the tunes of the Highlands, head heavy to my pillow in the middle of the crowded, sleepy room. It was the kind of peace John Lennon would fantasize about.