The Vietnamese don't mess around with their cafes. Forty lawn chairs
and accompanying tables setup on the sidewalk, not clustered, but
facing the street. Unabashed people watching. The world is our
television. A sidewalk barber, unseen since India, plies his craft to
my right as the sun dips lower. A fresh pack of "craven" brand
cigarettes stowed away in my backpack, a gift for a chain smoking
crony. What a name. My tummy tum has been filled with pho
and bon mi. Approximately one dollar each. God I've missed bread. The
bon mi rolls are extraordinary. Fluffy inside, crusty outside, adding
texture to the combination of chicken, julienne cucumbers, peppers,
lettuce and a hint of chili infused basil. My munchings brought
envious stares from shirtless gaggles of loafing middle aged men as I
ambled down to destination unknown. At the cafe all heads snap to
attention as a Russian Michellan man staggers past moping his doughy
brow in the suns last dying rays. The spectacle passes, the show goes
on, all from the comfort of my street side living room.

I made it to Vietnam. Showed up without a visa, so I was forced to pay
a bribe, but all is well. It was better than being forced back onto a
plane to Malaysia. And kind of exciting. My first of many "Back in 'Nam" stories. 

Email to Family

Wrote this email about a week ago to my parents / sister and decided it would make a good blog post...

Hey there everyone, sorry I haven't called lately. I am 11-12 hours ahead in time zone and the internet cafe's here open late and close early so it's really hard to get a call through when anyone would be awake. We are leaving northern thailand and heading all the way back south to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia tomorrow or the next day. To help you with what that actually means, please take a look at this link: Google Maps: Chiang Mai to Kuala Lumpur Its a long ride back - about two days by bus. Its a good thing the buses here are ridiculously nice and put our american greyhounds to shame. The public transit in general here seems mostly ahead of the united states. If we just took a fraction of the money we spend in foreign wars and put it into public transit we would probably all have personal hovercrafts with robot chauffeurs instead being outdone by tiny southeast asian countries. Maybe its because they have more asian drivers here, so they want everyone on public transit....eh eh eh jokes!

We just completed a 4 day motorbike ride through the hills. It was pretty nice except that its slash and burn season meaning a large portion of the countryside was literally on fire. (slash and burn=burning last years crop to clear it out for the spring season and return some of the nutrients to the soil). The sky was smoky for hundreds of miles and at many points the sides of the road were blazing high with flames and cows eating ashes or something else they seem to have found delicious. The views could have been a little less post-apocalyptic. You ever see that movie "The Road"? It was kinda like that except no one was eating babies.

I was riding a rather seasoned motorbike. It had a lot of character. On day one the rear tire blew out on me and I found out the whole rear rim was missing 8 spokes. One of these broken spokes jammed itself through the rim and into the tire, puncturing it. Fixing it was quite easy though. Stopped at a roadside shack where an old man fixed the tire and then we stopped again just down road from the old man where a retarded guy replaced my spokes. He was not full on retarded, but was unable to speak and made up for it by gesturing about and making loud mumbling noises. This gave me a glimpse of what we must look like to the Thai people when waving our arms about speaking incomprehensible English. Fortunately his verbal inabilities did not detract from the special guy's talents at replacing my spokes. He appeared to be an ace mechanic. 3 dollars spent and we continued happily on our way.

On day 3 I crashed the bike in a pothole that a normal motorcycle might have just bumped through. I was not driving a normal motorcycle, so immediately upon hitting this pothole the bike and I parted ways to embark on separate journeys across the expanse of gravel and bumps in the road ahead. Luckily i am very experienced at falling off//into/over things and it appears that the bike had also had also had its fair share of crashes in decades past, so i was able to ride it for another day and a half to successfully complete our trip (yes, mom i was wearing a helmet. it was baby blue).

When we got back chris and i went to a very legit honda service center where the technician gave some unsettling responses while looking at the bike; "Oh no good! Very bad! Motor bad! Alignment bad!". The damage was assessed at 2,700 baht (about 90 bucks) and would take 2 days to repair. This was not an option because our Thai visas expire in 3 days. I risked bringing it back to the rental shop and throwing myself at their mercy. When i got there and handed the keys over, the guy tried to start it, realized it doesn't start, then rolled it into the shop, and just threw down the kickstand appearing satisfied with there being no indication it would ever run again. He then gave our passport back, and said "thank you". Trying my best to be honest as it seemed these people had no idea how much damage i caused, i showed them what happened pointing to the bent shifter, twisted foot peg, and the front tire (which was kind of bent to the right). The entire front of the bike above the tire including the mangled cargo basket was visibly askew pointing off to the left and drooping a bit as if it had motorcycle palsy. The electronics in general were shot after the incident and i had to kick start it and keep gassing it for the engine to remain running. They ignored all of this and with a pipe and hammer started banging/bending things until the whole thing reached a shape somewhat resembling a motorcycle and charged me 200 baht (about 7 dollars). Maybe they have been waiting for someone to run it into the ground and officially total it so they can finally cash in with their insurance company and get a new one to take its place? More likely were distracted by the 8 shiny new spokes on the rear wheel. Either way there was no need to ask any questions. By the time they took my payment, put it in the drawer and looked back up, I was halfway down the street.

Overall, it was a great success! We are back in Chiang Mai and I just had some delicious noodles for a dollar. Life is good. Hopping on a luxury bus tomorrow to begin the long journey back to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to greet the Bott family who arrive on the 16th. I hope i can call sometime soon. By the way, no need to worry about me, i just had a little road scrape on my elbows like when i was a kid and would fall off the bicycle. Flying off of a 2 wheeled machine was instantly recognized as a familiar sensation and i was not hurt. Tuck and roll works best when practiced. Love you/talk to you soon.

Western Comforts and New Years in Mumbai

 

 

Chris and I departed Diu on a 10 hour overnight bus to Mumbai. The inside of the bus smelled inexplicably like rotten fish, which unfortunately was concentrated somewhere near or around where we were sitting in the very back. I even believe the odor managed to gradually increase as the night went on. Stepping off the bus in Mumbai felt like completing the process of being eaten, digested, and excreted from a large whale. Mumbai immediately came across as a clean, rich, western city with tons of delicious street food. This is exactly what both of us were looking for after the filthy bus ride and 2 weeks in northern india. A welcome respite from the dusty trail. As a whole the city is not all clean and has one of the largest slums in all of asia, but we stayed in the nicer areas as we had about enough filth and the goal was to participate in minimal tourist activities. Just stroll around the city, eat, and relax.

We wandered around the upscale tourist area of Connaught by the Gates of India, an enormous archway on the waterfront by the glamourous Taj Hotel. After the first night, we moved slightly north to the Fort Area, which was just as nice but more quiet and had less tourists. Soon it was new years eve and as a result of various posts on reddit and couchsuring, we pulled together a group of 12 people to meet up for dinner and bar hopping in Bandra. Bandra is a very rich area in Mumbai full of trendy bars / restaurants. After shopping around, we found and purchased some "real people clothes" to wear for the evening as our backpacking shirts and pants are not the attire you would find on any self respecting human being.

Cricket At Oval Maidan - Mumbai

I found a massive multi story Levi's (Levis is considered high end clothing here) and gave in to buying a pair of 501's for $90 dollars motivated partially by the irony of buying my most expensive jeans in India, which were made in America. After being so cheap for so long and counting every penny spent it also felt great to buy something unnecessary and expensive for a change. After changing and cleaning up in the employee bathroom on the roof of the levis building, we were looking sufficiently presentable enough to go meet our new friends for dinner at an italian restaurant. After many drinks and some delicious food we went out to an indian version of an american punk rock bar where we gathered around a table drinking pitchers of kingisher beer and listening to an eclectic mix ranging from the Ramones to Journey . It was fun to spend new years with people from different parts of the world.

The punk rock place closed down at 2 and we went to a tiki themed bar where we waited outside to get in. The cops had temporarily shut everything down, but 15 minutes later the owner payed a the appropriate bribe to stay open until 5am. This is completely normal. Being the only group of white people in the bar we received lots of attention from groups of indian men, who were fun to talk to as all seemed very well educated and one of them bought me a shot of Jack Daniels. It was all around good times. We walked out around 5 and once i had finished drunkenly calling anyone at home whose phone number i remembered and telling them I'm in the future and we all have flying cars (10 hours ahead here), it was time to start heading back. We split 2 taxis between everyone and got back to Connaught to catch the sunrise at the gates of India. Crashing in our buddy's room we slept until 5pm that day and got a train the day after that to head south to the beaches in Goa and Karnataka. I wish i had some photos to post, but chris has all the new years shots on his camera and he is at a yoga ashram for the next couple weeks.

A little left to fill in and i will be up to date and making current posts. Right now, I am heading to Sri Lanka in a couple days to go surfing while chris stays at the yoga ashram and makes his way to sri lanka to meet up again 2-3 weeks from now. Adios!

Christmas In Diu

The beach was just the change up we needed after months in the mountains and high plains. The cold had begun to nip at our heels. We were ecstatic to arrive at the island of Diu, just off the southern coast of the largely Muslim and alcohol free state of Gujarat. The island is unique for two reasons. From 1535 to 1961 Diu was a Portuguese colony and trading post. It also serves alcohol, making it the only watering hole for about 800 kilometers. The result is a charming island half covered by Indian men drinking with reckless abandon.

After nearly 24 hours of train and bus travel we stepped off the bus into the blinding heat of midday. The air smells strongly of the fish market across the street. We rented scooters and crossed the island from east to west on winding roads dotted with dilapidated churches.

For the price of a Motel 6 we took a room at the island most exclusive resort. The Hotel Radhika staff stifled their scoffs as Jay and I rolled in wearing shorts, flip flops and our grungy backpacks. Diu is off the tourist trail, attracting few foreign tourists to its mediocre beaches. Most travelers head further south to Goa or Kerala for the holidays. We chose the island because it sounded interesting and was the nearest to our prior location in Rajasthan. As a result we were the only white dudes at the resort, distinctly different from the conservatively dressed Indians that surrounded us in the hotel lobby. I smiled as I noticed a small plastic Christmas tree alongside a statue of the elephant god, Ganesha.

Indian and Muslim cultures being very conservative, the beach scene seemed bizarre to us. Nagao beach was wide and long but almost entirely empty. Whereas most of us hit the beach to lay down our towels in quiet seclusion, the Indians cluster tightly together in order to chat. There were no blankets, umbrellas or swimmers in sight. Adults were fully clothed, women wearing full length saris while the men who managed to stumble out of the bars looked as if they were about to meet a client for their 2pm. Children splashed in ankle deep water, most unable to swim. We laid out our towels away from the throngs and went for a swim. Indians occasionally walked up to us to take pictures and ask where we were from.

In the name of sociological inquiry Jay and I frequented the local bars of Diu town. Most of the bars were identical, like cozy caves smelling of stale beer. No women were ever present in the bare bones, utilitarian pubs. The men drank either watered down whiskey or strong malt liquor. We happily slurped down tall Kingerfisher beers and observed the spectacle of grown men acting like high school girls at their first party.

Our five days on Diu were spent lounging on the beach, riding scooters along the back roads or feasting on Portuguese inspired seafood dishes. It was enjoyable but somewhat sad. A hollow feeling rested in our chests as we went through the motions of holiday. Luxurious hotels, relaxing surf and good food is no replacement for a loving family during the holidays. Half way across the world, we wished we were home for Christmas.

Rajasthan Recap

It has been a while since the last post in Nepal and a lot has happened since then, so i will start to fill in the gaps with our trip from Nepal south through Rajasthan all the way through Gujarat where we spent our christmas on the island of Diu on the Arabian Sea.

Having finally got all our papers in order for departure, we hopped a flight from Kathmandu, Nepal to Delhi, India. We had both swore we would never return to Delhi, but I was very interested to see the place again with desensitized eyes gained from 3 months in Nepal. Looking at my journal now i realize it has almost been a month since the last post. Sorry.

December 15 - New Delhi - The view out the window of the plane was absolutely stunning - the Himalayan mountains running as far as you can see along the horizon. A 2 hour flight was much better than the 2 day bus ride we took to get to Kathmandu. From the airport we took the metro train, which was awesome. The most beautiful train i have ever been on and was more like the starship enterprise than a train. When we got to the stop at Paharganj i did not want to leave my futuristic air conditioned spaceship and step into the madness, which seemed centuries behind. Delhi was not so bad the second time around. Having grown numb to the population density and aggressiveness of the city we wandered around excited by all the street food and ate various snacks while waiting for our overnight train to Jaipur.

December 16/17 - Japiur, Rajasthan - We arrove after an all night train to relentless touts (salespeople) outside the train station in our face shouting to get into their rickshaw. It was 5 in the morning. Being very tired with little patience we shoved/cursed our way past these animals, found a guesthouse and passed out until 11. We walked around all day and saw very little of interest in this dusty city. Taking advantage of the cheap alcohol we bought some bacardi, coke, and limes returning to our room to spend the evening watching satellite tv in our really luxurious room. The evening was spent watching Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia and Madmen on FX. It was glorious. The following day we left Jaipur to take a bus to Bundi having heard some good things about the town.

December 17/18/19 - Bundi, Rajasthan - After a 5 hour bus ride through endless fields of yellow flowered mustard plants that stretched to the horizon, we arrived in the small town of Bundi. Bundi is dense with alleyways, temples, and stepwells. Every building is painted a different color of pastel with blue being the most dominant and popular color. Above the city on a hill is an enormous palace and fort where we spent an entire day wandering the monkey infested ruins. Felt like Indiana Jones climbing around the ruins scaring off the aggressive monkey troops. We ate some delicious food - Rajasthan is known for spicy cuisine, and spent evenings lakeside at our guesthouse with two other americans from the northwest staying in the next room. We took the night bus to Udaipur on the 19th.

December 19th/20 - Udaipur - The night bus from Bundi was a terrible experience. We spent extra to get the "sleeper" bunks not knowing the road was so rough there would be no sleep. The bus would hit enormous bumps in the road every minute or so and launch us off our beds, sometimes hitting the low ceiling above or against the walls. It was like laying in a box slightly larger than a coffin that was being shaken around by a giant ape for 9 straight hours. Arriving in Udaipur our rickshaw driver attempted persistently in an obvious attempt to rip us off. With no sleep at all and being banged around all night there were little patience for this kind of behavior. We fought with him for a while as he pretended to not have any change for our 100 rupee note when we clearly saw him hide the money from us. We got the change ourselves, paid him less than he asked for and released a torrent of relentless swearing on him and those responsible for his bottom dwelling existence. The shouting was followed by a nap and then exploring the city. Udaipur was beautiful with ornate buildings all around a large lake. It was very relaxing and had many outdoor cafes to read on the waterfront and there was excellent food. The original plan was to stay here and take cooking classes, but we still had to cross the entire state of Gujarat to get to Diu for Christmas, so the next day we took an over night train followed by a 4 hour bus ride. After a day and a half of travel we were in Diu on the 22nd. The beach was a welcome site after 3 months in Nepal. Chris will pick up with the next post on Christmas in Diu.

Motorcycle Madness

Himalayas Faintly In The Background 

After finally going through the long and hilariously complicated process of getting a new passport and renewing my Nepali visa the final step remained of obtaining a new Indian visa - the last hurdle necessary in order to legally exit Nepal and head south for Christmas. After waiting all day at the Indian Embassy my number was finally called. I went up to the window and handed in my form. The wait was finally over. The visa official took my form, looked up at me, and said "Come back next week". He handed me a paper with the pick-up date of December 14^th.

After being in Nepal for over 80 days and Chris somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 days, we were at a loss for ideas on how to fill this last 7 days. The only one thing was certain - we had to get out of Kathmandu. After some discussion it was decided that we will rent motorcycles and take a trip south. There were two major problems with this plan. Neither of has ever technically driven an actual motorcycle before and Nepal has the craziest roads I have ever seen.

Us & The Hogs in Khadichaur 

We went to a rental shop near the guesthouse and rented two 150cc Bajj Pulsar's, which seem to be the most common motorcycle in the country. After handing over 2000 rupees each for a 4 day rental ($24 USD), leaving a passport as deposit, the keys and helmets were presented, and once the enormous parade passing by the shop gave us an opportunity we were off. The first hour was pretty terrifying. It was a real challenge to simultaneously get a feel for driving a motorcycle, get used to driving on the left side of the road, and also not get into an accident amidst the seemingly unpredictable swarm of motorcycles, buses, cars, people, fruit carts, animals, and trucks. Chris was having particular trouble getting a feel for the clutch and struggled a bit with first gear. Having never driven a standard transmission before it was especially challenging for him to grow accustomed to. We eventually managed to get through the traffic while being perpetually blasted at face level by thick black clouds of smoke from passing buses and trucks. After an hour we hit a major intersection where we hopelessly lost each other in the sea of trucks and cars. With no cell phones, there was no way to find one other. After searching for about an hour I got on the bike and continued along our planned route stopping at an internet cafe to email Chris the meet up destination. While I rode ahead, Chris gave up his search for me

No One Here Can Read A Map

I arrived in the town of Dhulikel as planned and got an email from chris who arrived about the same time. We soon found each other at the guesthouse and went out for an insanely cheap and not so delicious dinner of rice with cloves and unusual spices. Walking back from the restaurant through the old Newari town during a typical power outage the stars shined impressively bright unimpeded by any city lights. We made our way through the narrow streets past candlelit vendor stands and watched a lunar eclipse take place. The whole scene felt like being in another world of centuries ago and I kept an eye on the rooftops half expecting to see a ninja leap through the darkness. Despite the fact that it was the most appropriate setting for a ninja sighting I have ever experienced I still failed to spot one.

Jay Shredding Up The Dirt Roads

After breakfast the next day we continued heading south (or so we thought). Finally out of reach of the insane traffic of Kathmandu, the mountain roads and fresh air were a welcome change. We stopped a couple times to ask directions and our intended route (south to the warm lowlands) was confirmed by two locals. After heading on another hour along a gorgeous river valley we stopped again for a break and found out we were nowhere near where we were trying to go. Instead of going south we were driving north along the road to Tibet. It also turns out that some Nepalis are unable to read a map and don't know their actual geographic location on the planet. It does not help when the map is written in English either. Encouraged by the beautiful scenery and just going with the spontaneous nature of the trip we decided to head north to see Tibet.

Holiday Parade In Barabise

As the day wore on, the roads wore down. The mountains around grew increasingly higher as did the unprotected cliff drop off the side of the road. Trucks and buses often whip around these curves on the opposite side, but keeping with the road rules of Nepal we used our horns excessively to alert oncoming vehicles of our presence and to scare goats/dogs/chickens/cows out of the way. You would not understand how effective this is unless you actually drove here. We passed through a town along the way where we were held up by yet another parade (every other day in Nepal is a holiday of some sort). There was a sacrificial goat and masked people in colorful and creepy costumes in a large procession. After observing the festivities we continued north. We drove past some massive waterfalls dropping from the towering cliffs above, various stream crossings later, and a mishap involving chris breaking his rear view mirror off the handlebars while going over a hidden speed bump, we made it to the border. The mountains across the border were even higher and various towns dotted the slopes leading north to the Tibetan plateau beyond. We stopped just short of the gate and armed guards since my passport was left as the deposit for the bikes and its not legal to enter Tibet from Nepal anyway.

Magic Buddha Statue: Tatopani, Nepal

We found a guesthouse a half an hour south of the border town and walked around. While staring at a 40 foot high "Magic of Buddha" statue complete with severed heads on a stick and a strange mustache, we made friends with a local monk. Later that day while asking him for advice on a place to eat dinner our conversation was interrupted by a horn honking up ahead. Various monks walking nearby and some locals simultaneously started running towards the truck in a mad dash (including the one we were talking to). Without discussion or hesitation me and Chris ran with everyone and hopped in back of the truck. Hitch hiking with Buddhist monks by the border of Tibet is not an opportunity to miss out on. The truck brought us back to the bordertown again where we ate dinner and walked back through the dark mountain roads. The waterfalls we passed earlier were now just thin ribbons of silver illuminated in the dark by the moon, which barely gave us enough light to not walk off the side of the road.


The next day we rode back to Dhulikel. Now more comfortable and confident with the roads and motorcycles we made it back to town in two hours. Heading south from Dhulikel is the road to Namobudda, a beautiful golden roofed monastery on top of a ridge overlooking the Himalayan mountains where we decided to go next. Taking the bikes off road on the path to the monastery was a lot of fun. Some of the highest peaks in the world were visible the entire way along the skyline.

Our Home For The Night

The monastery was breathtaking and we were the only tourists staying there. Bells, Horns, and Tibetan throat singing was heard in the background while we walked around taking pictures constantly in awe at the views and the serene atmosphere. Having dinner in a room full of buddhist monks with their marroon robes and shaved heads was another first time experience, but it didn't last long. The servers walked around with enormous cauldron sized pots of rice and soup and filled everyone's plates up endlessly. Being the only meal of the day for the monks they ate at a shocking speed and the room emptied out about 15 minutes after we entered. Full after downing two mounds of rice and two bowls of soup I waddled back to the room. Being a monastery, bedtime was early and sleep came at around 730.

Namo Buddha Monastery

The next day we headed back to Kathmandu through a different route taking us off road to some very poor rural villages. We passed through a beautiful and neglected square of Newari temples along the way, which unfortunately seemed to have been the town dump and was also the location of the village trash fire gathering. Once back in the city we navigated the traffic like pro's weaving around the cars and trucks following the flow of the other motorcycles and made it to Thamel in half the time it originally took to get out of the city. Along the way we stopped for a new rear view mirror and it was fixed in 15 minutes by skilled 12 year old mechanics and for just 250 rupees ($3.25 USD).

View En Route To Monastery

With the bikes returned unscathed and my passport collected, it was time for a major high-five. We both agreed that our first motorcycle adventure was the most exciting activity yet. What a blast. I can't wait to get back on another bike and explore some more less traveled areas. Not only is this the best way to travel and get off the beaten path, it is really fun. Once we got used to motorcycle driving and rules of the road it turned out to be not nearly as dangerous as it seemed at first. The traffic here is far less chaotic than it looks.

The drivers in Nepal are far better than most back home. They communicate through beeps and signal for you when its safe to pass them. It is cooperative! People actually help each other while driving! Just about everyone drives defensively and I didn't see one accident anywhere in our 4 days of riding yet almost every day driving to work in New Jersey i would see a fender-bender or worse on the largest and most organized roads I have driven on. There is a certain arrogance and righteousness to our driving attitudes back home that causes accidents, which is completely absent here. There is no "right or wrong", people just stay out of each others way. There was minimal yelling, or angry behavior. If someone cut someone off, or failed to signal, it is just accepted. Adjustments are made and everyone continues on their way. Driving is not used as a tool to take out your aggression here. Americans could learn a thing or two from the roads in Nepal and believe me, they have a whole lot more to be pissed off about than we do....


Anyway...regardless of any further bureaucratic surprises with our visas, the next post WILL be from India. If necessary we will resort to "Plan B" and sneak inconspicuously over the border in a two person horse costume.

about the same time and decided to grab some lunch nearby where he checked his email where received my message. It is very likely I ran right past him at the intersection while frantically looking for him.e most chaotic traffic I have ever seen. The city is infamous for its roads and the mountains are equally dangerous however, we were really desperate to leave the city. The excitement and challenge of a new experience was too much to turn down.

Kathmandu & the Osho Tapoban Commune

Hanging with Osho in our robes

      After a few rest days in Pokhara we returned to Kathmandu to wait on the arrival of Jay's passport. The city is not charming by any stretch, but returning to a city again and again provides a certain comfort when on the road. The streets, sights and vendors are familiar. The small charms of daily life slowly materialize, a good hole in the wall restaurant here and a quiet street there.

      The hustle of the city began to wear so we headed to a meditation ashram to wait out the remaining time before the passport was ready. A short taxi ride brought us to the Osho Tapoban Forest Commune, a spiritual hermitage just outside of Kathmandu. Tapoban is one of a huge number of ashrams based on the teachings of the guru Osho. India & Nepal are full of Gurus, spiritual as well as religious. These are the people who promote spirituality, meditation, love, peace, brotherhood and other humanitarian values. In the world of gurus Osho is somewhat controversial. Before his death in 1990 he drove a different Rolls Royce every day of the week while preaching free love, responsibility to ones self and the evils of institutionalized religion.

      Although fairly culty, I found it it to be interesting and amusing. I dont think Jay was quite as amused as I was. Full length robes must be worn at all times in the ashram, maroon by day and white by night. Osho's face was plastered everywhere. A huge closeup hung over our beds. Open the bathroom door and theres Osho again, staring you in the face. 

      Osho promoted a practice called dynamic meditation. Basically he believed that meditation as traditionally taught is very difficult to achieve in the modern world. Our minds have become clouded due to overexposure to stimuli and the increasing complexity of life . In order to properly meditate we must purge ourselves of subconscious thought processes and urges that are supressed due to adherence to societal norms. 

      Dynamic meditation has five stages, with music accompanying four of the five. Stage one is essentially hyperventilation, breathing in and our of your nose as deeply and powerfully as possible. It brings tremendous energy to the body. During stage two the music becomes frantic. You use the energy gathered during stage one to freak out. Scream at the top of your lungs, cry, laugh, roll around on the floor. The idea is to remove yourself from the process mentally and allow your subconscious and body to work in perfect union. People don't hold back in this stage and it was somewhat alarming initially. Stage three the music changes and you jump up and down yelling "hooooo" from the depths of your stomach. Supposedly this releases some form of pent up body energy. The music cuts out for the fourth stage, silent meditation. After fifteen minutes music starts up again and everyone dances, celebrating life. Again, people rock out completely unselfconsciously during this time.

      Dynamic mediation is just the first of five that take place throughout the day. All involve some type of movement or dance. Before bed there is a final meeting of everyone at the ashram called sangha. Sangha is a celebration at Osho Tapoban. Everyone dances like crazy people to surprisingly good Indian beats then lays down to listen to excerpts from osho lectures. Each song ends with everyone throwing their hands in the air and yelling "Ooosssshhhhhooooo!" As we are all wearing white robes, you can imagine the cult- like nature of the scene. I freaked out, danced and threw my hands up with the best of them. Jay sat down and closed his eyes, occasionally opening them and laughing.

      After a few days we received word that Jays passport was ready for pickup and we prepared to leave the ashram. Although I didn't agree with all of Oshos teaching, there were some points that resonated. Either way, the short stay in a commune and out of my comfort zone was a great experience and one that I will not soon forget.

 - The question is not whether life exists after death but whether your are alive before death.  - Osho    

Trekking the Himalayas

And...... we're back. For the past ten days Jay and I have been hiking throughout the Annapurna region of the Himalayas, northwest of the city of Pokhara. The blog map is now fully functional and I've charted our course through the mountain villages of scenic Nepal (for all the map junkies out there).
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The bus screeched to a stop in the village of Nayapul following a bus ride from the outskirts of Pokhara. Thankfully, we had managed to procure seats in the far back of the bus, saving us from a two hour game of duck and cover with the compartments overhead.

The strong sun was refreshing following two weeks of overcast fog. Passing roadside refreshment stalls we headed down our first of many dirt paths on our way to Birethanti, the starting point for the 10 day trek to base camp of Annapurna I. Having finally reached the countryside of Nepal, we laughed over the presence of candy wrappers that littered the ground. As the trek progressed we would see less of these eye sores, replaced by the heights of snow capped mountain ranges.

For three days we hiked through lowland forests and terraced cliff side farm land, stopping for water or a rest at the villages that appear every two hours along the route. As the sun lowered over the horizon each day we searched out a guesthouse for the night. Lodging costs are very cheap ($1/night), but its an unwritten requirement that all guests eat overpriced dinners and breakfasts at the guesthouse. Daily routines took form as the trek continued. Early wake ups and turn ins book ended six hour days of hiking, the morning air becoming crisper each day. Discounting a sick day we made good time on our way through the villages of Gorephani and Tadapani.

On day four Annapurna I and its neighboring behemoth, Gangapurna rose even higher. A strange phenomenon that I have never experienced, the longer we hiked into the mountain range, the larger the mountains seemed to loom.   Following days of occasionally glimpsing a mountain peak the range became our permanent backdrop. Altitude increased and thick vegetation gave way to stunted scrub and blue white glacial streams. During the day we sweated through our t shirts. At night the temperature quickly dropped. Guests wore down jackets and gloves at they hungrily gobbled down starchy dinners or poured over a book.

Our foresight in bringing spare food and snacks was offset by the mistake of not hitting the ATM before leaving town and we anxiously worried that our money wouldn't carry us throughout the journey. Asking the locals for an their nearest ATM location was useless. Buffalo are staunchly opposed to financial institutions.

On mid day of day seven we reached Annapurna base camp, altitude 4130m (13629 ft). White snowy peaks surrounded us as we craned our necks upward toward Annapurna I, towering ominously at over 8000m. Our legs ached as we posed for victory pictures, our new hippy friend from Colorado taking off his shirt in the freezing wind that blew across the glacier below us.

We stayed the night at Macchapucchre Base Camp, feasting on pizza, pasta and steaming hot mint tea as fog crept eerily up the valley to envelope our guesthouse. The next morning we barreled down the trail, conquering the thousands of stairs that run through Chomrong to reach the hot springs of Jhinu. Our final day of the trek was spent lumbering through the idyllic countryside buffering the river. Our legs ached as we boarded the local bus back to Pokhara, this time with beers in hand. 

14 days in Pokhara

We originally assumed we would be in the small lakeside town of Pokhara for around 3 days before going trekking however this was not to be the case. A string of various incidents involving chris's debit card not working, my being locked out of my own bank account despite having told them before leaving the US that i would be traveling, and finally the loss of my passport have forced us to remain here for two weeks. After around a week or so the financial issues were all worked out and we were preparing to leave when my passport and i were permanently separated on a local bus forcing me to go through a long process. I filed a police report and took the long ride back to Kathmandu to put in the papers for a new one at the US embassy and then again returned to Pokhara. I am definitely ready to get out of here. We have spent too much time walking up and down main street while continually hearing "yes please" left and right from local shop owners gesturing towards useless obscure items such as Tibetan singing bowls, wooden flutes, or questionable Pashmina fabrics. Despite the overwhelming psychological power of this sales tactic we somehow managed to abstain. The highlight of the two weeks was probably getting a haircut and having getting my terrorist-caveman beard shaved off. Nice to look like a human being again although i will miss the heightened problem solving abilities that result from contemplative mustache twirling.

We will be getting on a bus out of Pokhara tomorrow morning to begin the two week Annapurna Sanctuary trek after which we will be returning to Kathmandu to get my new passport/visa and heading south. Sometime around the beginning of December we should be leaving Nepal for warm climates, spicy curries, and seafood in India. A lot has happened and been learned here, but I have stayed a little longer than anticipated and its about time to move on.

Patan To Pokhara

We stayed in Patan. It is the old part of Kathmandu - originally its own city, now a part of the metro. The architecture there is incredible. Building facades covered in ornate wood carvings. Elvin doors lead to hidden courtyards surrounding individual shrines. Hindu influenced Buddhist temples dot street corners and intersections, with animistic iconography carved alongside the enlightened being. Meeting up with Jay was excellent, as I was feeling very out of sorts. Its much easier to cope when you are not alone.

Explored the area on day one. Ate traditional Nepali food; bakery goods, momos, then Newari food for dinner. The Newari consists of curried meats, primarily buffalo. The restaurant was empty when we walked in and the meats unrefrigerated. I was hesitant because of these reasons. We drank Chang, alcohol fermented from millet. Milk

white in color, it tasted like acidic watered soy milk. My stomach churned.

Walked back home past teenage Nepalis out for their night. The city closes down completely at 10pm but its lively until then. Ate delicious ice cream (very popular in Kathmandu). Passed old by men in a dimly lit rooms drinking masala tea.

Tightness in my stomach wakes me up throughout the night. Buffalo taste stuck in my mouth. The next day was not good.

The morning shower cannot break my daze. We walked down the streets looking for breakfast and I drag my feet like a zombie. The sights are too bright. Everything feels disorienting and alien. Smells are overwhelmingly strong. I feel empathy for pregnant women and go to lay down.

Lazed around all day watching Breaking Bad on our computer. At night we headed to a restaurant and ordered anything other than Nepali. I ate chop suey and Jay, Indian Masala. On the streets I breathed through my nose

to avoid the smell of buffalo.

The next day is better. Having exhausted Patan we taxi to Bodinoth, an apparent oasis of calm withing the city. Buddhist monks circle a gigantic golden stupda. Prayer flags rise to the stupa pinnacle. Gift shops encircle the stupa. Tourists raise their camera in all directions. It is not peaceful. Lonely Planet has failed us. We take a cab to the shared taxi station.

Traffic is very bad in Kathmandu, pollution is worse. We sit in the cab for 40 minutes. People burn trash along the road. My eyes water. Jay seems used to it by now. Many people cover their nose and mouth when walking around the streets.The cab approached the shared bus station. It looked like a market with many touts. Fifteen passenger vans troll the market periphery and hype men yell out the vehicles destination.

Our cab stopped and the hype men began banging at the windows. They yell "WHERE YOU GO?" A man pulled my bag away from me and told me to get in his van. I pull my bag away from him and tell him to get lost. Drivers crowd around to bargain.

How Much? I ask

------500 they call out

I laugh - 300

They collectively scoff

350 a voice offers.

Jay and I agree.

We pile into the last remaining seats in the van, bags in lap. The rise is bumpy. We ride through the Kathmandu Valley and the air becomes clearer, the views better. It rains outside and the pollutionof Kathmandu is replaced with the earthy smell of the country.

I put my headphones on and listen to the Grateful Dead and Kanye West, ruminating on the line
"Im living in the future so the present is my past". Either Ye is experiencing the thrill of living some futuristic existence or the struggle of staying in the present moment.

We wind down tight turns on the slippery dirt roads. Two cars have collided head on. People gather around but our driver doesnt blink as we roll through another muddy switchback. The rain pours down and brings a feeling of clean and refreshment, so much different than the dusty city. My head feels much better at this point.

The passenger van arrives in Pokhara after dark. We don our rain jackets and jump out of the van and into a cab. The driver crawls into the darkness and down to the lakefront of Pokhara.

Arrival at the Gates of Hell

To say that arrival in Delhi was a shock would be an understatement. As I exited the airport the air smelt slightly smokey, reminiscent of burning plastic with a distinct rubber finish. Thick heavy smog hung over the parking lot lights. I got a cab and headed for Paraganj, the backpackers ghetto of Delhi. Taxis and motorbikes coast down the road without acknowledgement of traffic lanes, lazily changing lanes on a whim. The pace was unhurried, drivers seeming resigned to move slowly but steadily in a city where traffic is ever present. Honking seems to be regarded as a courtesy used to warn others of their intention to pass or merge. Many vehicles have “Please Honk” painted on their rear bumper.

    Delhi is not what we would call a “vacation destination”.  In my case, its a destination of necessity. Incoming flights are cheap and the location is in close proximity to Nepal, where Jay and I will be trekking in the coming days. Deep puddles pockmark the dirt roads that cut through narrow lanes of dilapidated storefronts. Many buildings are missing their facade entirely. Mangy stray dogs line the streets, rising to their feet to dodge oncoming taxis and rickshaws. A thick film of filth covers everything. Touts harass with offers of guesthouses, tours and taxis. And why is there so much poo on the streets? Needless to say, the place is a hell hole.

I woke up extra early (due to the time difference) and sat on the street drinking chai tea and talking with the vendor. Before the frenzy of the day began the street was filled with people going about their everyday business. Children in uniforms headed off to school. The boys wear these excellent cauliflower blue pants that crack me up. Shop owners open their doors before gathering around to chew betel leaf, a mild stimulant with bright red juice.

I walked the city almost all day just scoping it out. Confirming that it would be best to get out of

Delhi as soon as possible. I headed to the ATM to take out some cash to discover that Indian ATMs did not recognize my card. After many worried hours at the computer Mike was able to patch through some info that activated an ATM card I was carrying for Jay, saving me from sleeping in the Delhi train station. I booked a 42 hour bus ride to Kathmandu and slept through the night.

On and off the tourist trail

Much has happened since my last post. The mountain climb never happened as there were no boots that the company promised would be brought by the porter and no rental shop in all the Everest area had size 13 boots. I was surprisingly given a refund on my return to the office in kathmandu, so it wasn't much of a problem. I got out of the tourist area of Thamel as quickly as possible and vowed to avoid tourist areas at all costs. Tourist areas are halfway houses of overpriced mediocrity where people have flown 14 hours to the other side of the world to eat practically pizza and sometimes spaghetti. Who spends 1200 dollars for a round trip flight to experience some foreign interpretation of the very environment which you spent so much time and money to escape from? Most people it seems... they stay around all the other tourists thinking it is the safe choice to stay in a familiar habitat even though this happens to be where all of the shifty mcgriffs preying on tourists and aggressive touts gather to find creative ways of parting you from your money. It is also where the majority of beggars will be found.
Escaping the sushi and wifi I found solace in Patan where the architecture is hundreds of years old and pretty good meals can be eaten at street stalls for around a dollar. I spent a few days taking in the scene at other-worldy Durbar Square sitting on the temple steps reading the paper every morning with a cup of Masala Tea and a coconut roll. I even made some friends who lived in the area. Rahul who is a college student in Nepal took me out for dinner where we had a spread of different types of Newari food washed down with Chang, a local rice beer, and even insisted on paying - what a nice guy!
The contrast in what one experiences on and off the tourist trail is unbelievable. Two people staying less than a mile away will go home with descriptions of drastically different countries. If you want to get drunk, eat pizza, and go shopping for goods from another culture, you could accomplish this without even leaving your couch.
On another note chris frinally arrived after taking the nightmarish overland journey from delhi to Kathmandu. I cant say i didn't amuse myself with thoughts of his experience in Delhi and the bus trip having gone through the miserable experience myself. It is so outrageously awful you can't help but laugh about it. We since have left Patan spontaneously and are now in the cleaner lakeside town of Pokhara (on the tourist trail again) and are leaving soon to the mountains for a couple weeks to trek to Annapurna Base Camp once he gets over his fever induced by the feast of buffalo meat we had in Patan. Newari food is various parts of the buffalo served with beaten rice (practically woodchips). I found it pretty delicious, but his stomach may not have been ready as he has been here barely a week and probably not adjusted to all the foreign substances in the food. Photos coming very shortly.

Taking the Plunge

     Five hours until departure from Newark airport. Fourteen hours on a plane before descending on New Delhi, India. The first stop on an open ended travel to the subcontinent and south east Asia.Ill be meeting Jay in Kathmandu, Nepal some time next week.
     Im anxious and excited . Jay and I have been planning this little adventure for a few years now. Even as I moved to San Francisco I did so with the understanding that it was a temporary home. Somewhere beautiful and exciting to hunker down and earn my travel fare. During work hours Jay and I excitedly chatted back and forth, listing off potential destinations and longings for how life would be. How we would bust out of our monotonous nine-to-five existence and see the world. 
     Well, now that time has come. I quit my job on August 12 and left the first place that felt like home to hit the road, literally. Its exhilarating to talk and plan a great adventure, but now that departure is upon me, im kind of alarmed. The goal of this trip is to become comfortable with the unknowns in life. Confident enough to know that whatever arises, Ill be able to handle it. A great writer once said "People wish to learn to swim and at the same time to keep one foot on the ground". Its time to take the plunge!

Down Time

Finally back on the internet again. 2 weeks without a reasonably priced connection! The mountains are a truly unforgiving environment. I have been all over the place the past 14 days... I went to Everest base camp and discussed climbing conditions with an Argentinian guide who has been there ten times, traversed the Cho La Pass where some french people got naked and crossed yet another insanely massive glacier (the Ngozumpa) while viewing collapsing ice shelves and rock slides around me as i walked through the eerily unstable environment. I then spent a couple days at the lakes of Gokyo which were the color but not temperature of the Caribbean, climbed Gokyo Ri to get that classic view of Mt Everest and several other 8,000m peaks, and then walked down yesterday through Gokyo along the Dud Kosi River on one of the most scenic days I've had so far. All this was a combination of the three main treks in the area (Everest Base Camp Trek, the Three Passes Trek, and the Gokyo Trek) and have now finished my custom Khumbu Circuit. The perfect way to see the whole region.

I've met alot of really great people along the way from all over the world and all walks of life. Surprisingly the average age of trekkers around here is around 35-40, (many are even older retired folks and i had the pleasure of having dinner with one 75 yr old from California who made it to just below base camp around 17,000ft). He started hiking in his 50's and has been all over the world now...pretty amazing all you can squeeze into life when you never take a moment for granted.

Its been quite an amazing trek. Now I'm at Namche Bazaar again hanging out for a couple days and using the Namche Laundromat (all your clothes in a tin bucket with soap and water while a Nepali woman stomps on them with her bare feet) before heading back up to attempt to climb one of these monster peaks with a group of people i have yet to meet. Although its at 12,000ft, the air at Namche seems a whole lot thicker than it did when i got here 2 weeks ago and I feel like i can just about blast off and fly out of here like its the Matrix. Just had a hot shower, pringles, and a mars bar, so i am really living the high life right now. Might even treat myself to a sizzling yak steak, but maybe ill save that for after the climb.

Until then I'm going to relax and attempt to make sense of some of the more nonsensical journal entries i jotted down as brilliant ideas while under the influence of thin air the past couple weeks. Be patient for photos, i'm awaiting the arrival of my USB cable when i get back to Kathmandu and have probably over a thousand pictures to sort through. Mostly of Yaks.

Himalayan Dispatch - recap of past week

I am in fact alive and thriving in the mountains. What an adventure it has been the past week! I just completed an 8 day trek through the Solo-Khumbu, which is where you find barely any tourists and experience the "real" nepal. I stayed with familys and ate nepali food with them most of the time. I have been out of touch for a week as these people have no phone, internet, and often no power or hot water.

I have reached Namche Bazaar (12,000ft elevation), the main hub for the tourists entering the Everest area, which is why i am back in contact. It has been 8 days up steep mountain passes of 10-12000 feet and plunging down
into deep valleys across long suspension bridges only to climb another 3-4,000 feet back up. There are no roads in this area as the terrain is too steep to allow road construction.
99% of the thousands of tourists who come to the everest area fly from kathmandu to Lukla and walk to namche in 2 days. They employ a guide and a porter to carry all their gear as most people cannot carry a full backpack up the steep mountains especially getting into higher altitudes. I decided to take the harder route for training and adventure purposes and took a bus to Jiri (which was an adventure in itself sitting on the roof on top of a pile of luggage and boxes of fruit with my feet dangling over the cliffs - my asian sized bus seat was too small for my large white body.

I trekked through the region where the Sherpa people are from called the Solo Khumbu carrying a 55 pound backpack. It was very difficult at first trekking 8 and sometimes 10 hours a day carrying this weight. I made friends with the only other 2 crazy people along the way (2 Germans from the Bavarian Alps about the same age as me) and trekked with them for the first 5 days during which it rained most of the time and i ended up getting a fever.
I continued trekking growing more ill and weak, barely managing to carry my pack over the passes. Eventually i wore down and had to insist that my friends move on while i take a rest day. I physically could walk no further and needed to recover. The reason i pushed it this far while already sick was because the only place with any medication was still 4 days away in Namche and i had to try my best to get here quickly if my illness got serious. The only way to get here was on my feet. I spent a day recovering in a small town where i drank 10 cups of strong ginger tea, ate several bowls of tibetan noodle soup, and slept for 13 hours. My fever peaked that night and being alone in a remote village curled up in my sleeping bag with no one for miles around that could help me and no way to call/email anyone I had possibly the loneliest night of my life. I kept having dreams of being with my friends only to wake up back in my dark hole with no heat deep in the mountains.

The next morning i woke up feeling absolutely amazing. Never have i recovered so quickly and strongly from being sick in my life. I had a massive breakfast, drank 2 cups of coffee and literally jogged through the mountains my pack feeling lighter than ever before. I was flying up and down passes as if i woke up with an entirely different set of legs. I felt such an amazing sense of freedom being alone for the first time while trekking and the excitement gave me even more energy. Not to mention being thrilled to be feeling better again. Despite being 4 hours behind, I made
up all the lost time that day. Today i woke up feeling even better, which is good because it was the toughest climb so far. I managed to make the 3,300 foot climb to Namche in 5 hours which was one hour less than average while carrying one of the heaviest backpacks on the trail (besides the Nepali porters of course who carry in excess of 80 pounds). I am taking 2 rest days here to prepare for the high mountains and am feeling as healthy and strong as i have ever felt before. I am really excited to get to the high mountains of the Khumbu. My trek takes me above 17,000 feet and my climb will be to 21,000 ft. The rain has cleared and the biggest peaks in the world are shining impossibly high above me. It will be great weather now as the monsoon is over.
Despite its luxuries of pizza and wifi, Namche is still a small village resting in a notch with 20,000ft peaks looming overhead. There are valleys plunging thousands of feet below these peaks and waterfalls carrying snowmelt the entire way to the river below.. Its an other-worldy place, well the Himalayas are another world altogether.... This may not be my best thought out entry and merely a day to day recap, but internet is very expensive here so i had to be quick. It will be another 2-3 weeks before my next dispatch as im going way up into the mountains now.

Until next time,

Jason Sherpa

The Search for Adventure

I have been in Rishikesh for 2 days and spent most of it hiking in the hills and reading on my balcony overlooking the Ganges. I decided to splurge for a room with a view and it has been worth every rupee. Below the balcony is a long suspension foot bridge with cows, monkeys, holy men, and motorbikes crossing throughout the day between the various temples and Ashrams perched on the steep hills on either side of the river. Prayer bells and sanskrit chanting can be heard throughout the day.

As beautiful as it is here I have the urge to move on. This is a vast improvement on Delhi, but I am still feeling dissatisfied. There are numerous tourists here (mostly israeli for some reason) and I have yet to escape the same redundant continental restaurant menu, which has plagued me since I got off the airplane. I am under the growing suspicion that this is the culinary situation in every town listed in the guidebook. Thanks Lonely Planet! Although the breakfast omelettes and hashbrowns are surprisingly good I cannot help but consume them with guilt. This is not what I came for.

In my abundance of down time I have been reading an autobiography of the impressive adventures of Sir Edmund Hillary (the first man to summit Everest), which has lead me to instantly realize the obvious missing component - my perpetually insatiable desire for adventure.

I was under the naive assumption that after taking a 14 hour plane ride to the other side of the world into a vastly different culture than my own that adventure would be waiting for me once i cleared customs holding a sign with my name on it, but not unlike my driver it failed to show up. The search for raw life experience shall continue and i think it may prove to be more difficult than I anticipated, which should only make it all the more worthwhile once i find it.

Initial Observations

I arrived around 830pm. My driver was not at the airport (i had anticipated this) so i took a taxi to the main bazaar, which is the backpacker/budget tourist area of the city where my hotel is. I failed to locate the hotel as it was somewhere in the network of un-named alleyways off the main road. I proceeded to walk around dodging low hanging awnings, vendors, rickshaws, cows (who get treated like royalty so they walk anywhere they please knowing people and traffic will part ways for them), a stray dog fight, cowpies (poop), tourists, motorcycles, ascetics, etc and found a hotel, which although out of budget (33$) would do for the first night. It was only 930 and i passed out quickly.

Today i found a did some effective shopping and bargaining and found a place for 300rs (6$) a night. It has been pouring and the streets are flooded since there are no sewers to catch the rainwater. On the way back to check out of my hotel i was looking for a way around a flood in the road and wandered off the main road into the labarynth. Alleyways and unbelievably tiny passages darted every which way. Eventually there were no tourists, guesthouses, or shops - Just residences and small shrines. In passages only 3 feet wide more people seem to live than in acres of suburbia back home. Children were playing in the water of the flooded alleys, women washed clothes, men talked, and everyone smiled and said hello as i walked by. Eventually an amiable man holding a baby came up to me, asked where i was going, and said it was a dead end up ahead. He accompanied me and we had a nice conversation then parted ways. I walked back on to the main street already soaking wet and followed everyone else walking casually through the ankle deep street water.

This is a particularly chaotic and dirty area of the city, but still im enjoying it. The touts and vendors are less aggressive than i anticipated. Everyone says hello and smiles. Sure it serves their best interests to be nice to the rich white tourist, but I have been to areas in other countries that are not as poor as here where the people are very aggressive and much more prone to violence when it comes to trying to get your money (Jamaica and any US city for example). Off to find a cell phone and some outlet adapters and maybe some food....

Ready for the Unknown

With a little over a day to go before my solo departure to Delhi, people keep asking me if i am ready to go. I have worked out all the details of travel logistics and preparations such as insurance, visa, and shots. The question of whether or not i am mentally prepared is a difficult one to answer. Having never been to India or any of the Asian side of the world, there is no way to truly prepare myself. I will have my patience tested constantly, be continuously overwhelmed, and often confused. I recently discovered some feelings of apprehension towards what I am doing. What rational person would voluntarily throw himself into this kind of situation?

I then remembered the last couple years when predictability was the very reason i lacked the motivation to get out of bed early enough to make it to work on time to a job that wasn't even that bad. I would lay in bed and envision the entire day before it happened. The only changing variables reduced to what i would eat for dinner and if there would be more/less traffic than the day before. I felt as though I was living the part of Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I'm just not cut out for routine.

Having already had an amazing trip out west this past August, I am full of excitement and energy again. I was reminded that new experiences make you feel truly alive. Just four weeks travelling and climbing in the northwest has done so much and that was barely the beginning. I can't wait to see where this journey takes me.