Showing posts with label slow travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label slow travel. Show all posts

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Home for the Holidays

Home. Family time. Abuelos. Tios. Primos. Speeding. Curves. Jungles. Volcanoes. Black velvet sand. Atitlan. Maya. Photo shoots. Languages. Snorkeling. Sting rays. Squid. Baby turtles. Roaring currents. Sun. Fresh air. Shit music.

If my appreciation of Christmas were based on food alone, this would not be my favorite holiday. Formal family gatherings and extended holiday celebrations have become considerably more complicated since becoming a vegetarian. Nevertheless a bit of home time surrounded by my crazy family is always refreshing. Needless to say there is never a dull moment. The parties and gatherings which are supposed to be a blast - literally with all the fireworks set off - never are, and the impromptu visits evolve into full fledged adventures becoming ingrained into your memory forever.

It's a bit of family tradition I suppose to cram as many activities in as many different places, in this case as many different places in Central America, when we're together. The traveling gene is very much ingrained whether it's by plane, boat, bicycle, car, or bus - sadly there are no trains here. One day you're stepping off the airplane just to pack a different bag which will accompany you for the next 2 weeks. The adventure begins with the sun rising over a misty Guatemala City as it falls away from you and you dive into the clouds. Next thing you know, you're zooming across turquoise waters, diving with squid and stingrays, surfing with dolphins and observing missionaries and narcos interacting. San Pedro is a small island in Belize which I'm told used to be a little haven away from home. Its two block commercial area has turned into a full fledged centro comercial, but at the end of the day it's still an island small enough to traverse various beaches in the hunt to find your father who's on the hunt for windsurf equipment but big enough to cycle an entire day and not get all the way around. Time slows down and the sun is warm. From here, it's back for a day and on to the next destination.

El Salvador is an amazing country even when compared to the cultural giant which is Guatemala. Of course, I'm biased. There's no questioning that streak of patriotism which invokes hyperactivity on arrival and "blows dust in my eyes" on departure, but where else can you physically feel the power of the earth and its roaring oceans, see rocks come to life, and hear the twitter of diversity? You can scale the face of a volcano to find yourself in a field of hummingbirds, flowers and butterflies. You jump in the ocean to get tossed around like a rag doll as you throw yourself against 1.5 meter high frothy waves and emerge laughing covered in black sand. You burn your feet on the sand and cool them off in the ocean. At sunset, you can hear the clicking of canegues (hermit crabs) clambering over black silky rocks as they scavenge for food. The people are friendly and genuine, laughing, smiling and open. The food is heavy and filling. Cheese lovers, you'll never find a cheesier and more satisfying dish than pupusas. I don't care if the name is funny, once you try them you love them. The politics are exciting and despite the high rates of internal corruption, there are many good people within the system.

Another early morning start, three hours later we're back in Guatemala City for a couple hours before getting back on the road this time to the Mexican border. There's an archaeological site called Tikalik Abaj which for all the hassle, the bad roads, potholes, and pitch black darkness, I didn't even get to see much of, but from what I did see, I would go back again. The Tikalik Maya Lodge was one of the coolest hotels I've ever been to, especially for being an eco-hotel. The rooms are large and spacious, completely environmentally friendly (no electricity yes) but plenty of hot water and amazing views from your roof top balcony.You wake up with birds singing and the rainforest at your doorstep. I'm not particularly fascinated by birds but you can't help but be amazed at the sheer variety of bird calls, and bird sightings of all different colours and shapes. Another three hour race for your life past sugar cane trucks, across the agricultural basin of Guatemala and down death provoking curves and you're in Lago Atitlan appreciating the deep turquoise waters and the view of seven volcanoes. Temperatures are mild at this time of year but it's the only time you can really swim in the lake. Panajachel is one of the few places in Guatemala where both men and women walk in the streets wearing their traditional outfits.

That basically sums up two weeks of being home, a flurry of activities, nearly four countries and it all culminates here on the brink of the New Year surrounded by notebooks, journal articles, yellow notepad paper and a very clingy cat preparing to pounce on the last slice of semita

Thursday, December 1, 2011

wine, beer and tangerine

Something has to be said about SOAS, it's incredible atmosphere, it's complete and utter openness to all pathways of life, and its non-judgmental attitude and acceptance of different cultures. I almost wish I had come here for my undergraduate degree, but maybe I wouldn't have appreciated it as much back then.

I guess I'm just talking like this because the slow travel talk I went to today mentioned Mongolia. <3 Mongolia. One of these days, or maybe a few years from now, I will take a good three months of my life and board the trans-siberian express and travel from Moscow to Beijing, taking the time to get off at Irkutsk and Ulaanbaatar.

So slow travel is the next big thing it seems. Traveling while minimizing your carbon footprint by avoiding the gas guzzling aluminum sausage, and opting for more eco-friendly options like trains, buses and cargo ships. Funny, you wouldn't have thought of a cargo ship as an eco friendly option eh? Well it is, and apparently their captains are happy enough to take you on-board with their crew for a minimal price. Whole websites are dedicated to finding the right cargo ship for you on your slow travel journey. I'm definitely intrigued. The idea of traveling at the luxury of your own pace without the rush and stress of airports and security checks is very appealing. Sure, I'm aware that boat travel has its literal ups and downs, but come on, adventure. Ever thought about island hopping with canoes? I have. Off the coast of Thailand, dodging the anglophone masses of gap yah youths. One day. If only holidays were longer than two weeks.

To get the travel bug jitters visit:

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/this-britain/globetrotters-with-a-conscience-around-the-world-in-381-days-799016.html


Sunday, October 23, 2011

It's been a while. Britain's welcomed me back with the open arms of a banker embracing a new customer. It's good to be back. Observing, absorbing, getting back in touch with the anti-nature that is civilization. Realizing it's so easy to be absorbed by the hype of the media, new phone, new film, new tv, new underwear! Falling in love left and right with all the new actors, musicians, writers and artists who have popped up over the past year.  Feeling how detached the rest of the world is, how good Europe and the western world have it.

I was on a train today for five hours. I listened to conversations in different languages taking mental notes of patterns of code switching and creolization. It just happened. This is what I do now. I record languages for the greater good so that if one day a great natural catastrophe temporarily focuses the eye of the world on the islands of Micro-Polynesia, the deserts of Mongolia or the turtles of the Galapagos, those vocab and grammar books can be used to communicate with the natives.
http://www.hrelp.org/

Watch this space.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Tales of Nepalgunj Pt. 2

Chomping on green mangoes, visa issues sorted out, this is as good a time as any to continue the tales of Nepalgunj...
***

The caravan from Surkhet departed early in the morning. A brief meeting at the district office of the fellow travelers to collect the means of transportation and its handler and we move off. 

It is my personal opinion that all journeys to the field should be conducted via elephant according to colonialist traditions. It is not more uncomfortable than traveling by car (especially with the conditions of the road), more environmentally friendly and infinitely more exciting. Both means of transportation need special handlers especially trained in the field of working in adverse conditions, both consume fuel of some sort (bet you it'd be cheaper to feed an elephant that to fill up a tank of petrol) and both attract as much attention. We didn't travel by elephant but I'm going to pretend like we did since the rocking movement of the car climbing over boulders, ditches and streams perfectly immitated the movements of a walking elephant. Placing a company logo on the elephant wouldn't be much of a problem either, and if Ncell can advertise phone rates using Kathmandu's local elephant why can't GIZ use elephants to transport its staff to the field? I'm sure there would be enough space and willingness to include a paragraph or two on animal rights next to our conflict sensitive and human rights policies. Probably shouldn't talk about this stuff on here.

Madan the mahout was an excellent handler. He coaxed the grey pachiderm over hills and protected him from the rocks of nasty children. After a long days's drive, the means of transportation was always wiped down and put to rest in a safe location away from curious hands and feet. Occasionally local children were allowed to play with Nissan and climb all over his grey back. 

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Moving Day

And yet again I have moved. Not as drastic as change as the last move, this is after all within the same house, but still a hassle. Pack everything up into my bag and once again stress about the fact that I waaaay too many things to actually fit comfortably into the one already oversized bag. And that's just clothes. Books? Don't talk to me about books. I've come to terms with the fact that some will have to be left behind, but sketchbooks? Not a chance. Where do all these things come from?

In the spirit of moving in Nepal, I also decided to move house like the Nepalis do. The first time I packed all my belongings into a Suzuki taxi like you see the Nepalis do only to have my belongings dumped in the dust in front of the alley of my future house. This time I packed things on my bicycle and half walked/cycled precariously balancing a 1 m x 1.5 m bamboo shelf on the back, after being assured by the shop keeper that that bit of string would keep the shelf "secure". It did, but that's beside the point. It wasn't until I had to unmount the shelf that I realized it had been tied with a bow. Stopping on the way to buy fruit and veg was great as well. Apparently having a shelf on the back of your bike makes you much more likely to get automatic discounts. My awesome Nepali skills contribute as well of course.

Now I have a new room. My own room with an actual bed (even if it isn't earthquake safe), a roof terrace and an outdoor toilet with a view to a carpenter's workshop. Pigeons do their best to make sure I get to sleep and wake up happily by crooning songs through my window but really I just want to run out there yelling and screaming, and strangle each and every one of them. It's only been one night but my back and neck already miss sleeping on the floor.

Monday, February 7, 2011

A Weekend Away

Long hours of nothingness, long weekend, long work-day of nothingness. This is starting to get unhealthy.

First weekend away from the city and it was lovely. Took a two hour taxi (paid 14 bucks all together :0) up to the village of Nagarkot - a lovely site for amazing sunrises - to not see an amazing sunrise. It was an exciting car journey, the four of us and the taxi driver jammed into a white suzuki, half asleep and unwashed, jerked awake in terror by careening mountain roads and monstrous tourist buses charging to overtake us. It was best to just close your eyes and retreat to a happy place.


Left at 8, an hour and a half later we were up in the mountains surrounded by pine trees and fresh air, stuck behind pick up truck and its billowing black clouds of exhaust fumes. Talk about irony. A couple of wild turns and near death experiences later, little Susuki chugged to a stop on the particularly steep hill that led to our pink monstrosity of a hotel. A rude receptionist man ignored us beyond awkwardness and directed us to the restaurant where we were asked to wait half an hour for our rooms to be tidied. An hour and a half, two English breakfasts, two Special breakfasts and four pots of coffee later, our rooms still weren't ready. It took four stubborn, whining females to get two clean and prepared rooms in an otherwise empty hotel. Despite the distinct unfriendliness, I thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in a comfortable bed and the luxury of the albeit luke warm water in freezing temperatures shower.

We hiked, walked, trekked and explored. Saw the backyards of villages, an infinite number of goats, chickens and kids playing and frolicking in the sun. The view wasn't amazing, it was too hazy to see anything, but the sun was warm and the exercise a welcome relief from keyboard workouts and bad posture. Seeing as it was a holiday weekend most Nepalis seemed to be in a particularly good mood, music and singing echoed through the mountains the way it does during festival season of the British summers.

Sunrise
Viewing tower
Sunday was an early start, 6:15, to catch the (un)amazing sunrise. Mountains were visible to the naked eye, but virtually invisible through a lense. This didn't stop hordes of Chinese, Japanese and Korean tourists from setting up mini portable studios on the hotel viewing tower and chirpily snapping away. It was amusing to watch the crowd dynamics. As soon as one discovered a new sight in the scenery - the emerging glow of the snow covered mountains, or the orange crescent of the rising sun - the rest would quickly follow, running from one corner to the other, external flashes, tripods and telephoto zooms in hand to capture that one perfect moment which never arrived.

The feeding of the masses followed and the hotel made sure to profit as much as possible by serving us leftover potatoes, toast, boiled eggs and instant coffee. We were ready to go and soon enough embarked on a 4 and a half hour hike from Nagarkot to Changu Narayan a world heritage site north-east of Kathmandu. For 100 rupees you get to go in and see an exquisitely preserved village with its tall intricate wooden temples and and metal idols, the faces of which are smudged in yellows, reds, and flower petals; incense and candles decorating the shrines on an otherwise peaceful Sunday. The initial idea was to hike all the way to Bhaktapur then catch a bus or taxi back into the city, but as the day wore on, and our feet grew weary of the sun, dust and mountains, our plans slowly evolved. The visit to Bhaktapur was abandoned and an orange, red and blue boombox of a bus decorated with all the appropriate hindi paraphenelia and blaring bollywood music drove us short of a half hour walk to our houses. Kathmandu city greeted us in all its glory of congested traffic, and suffocating air.

The pink dots on the map below are the points to which my group traveled to over the weekend. Starting in Lalitpur (Patan), taxi to Nagarkot. Spent the night, hiked to Changu Narayan. Collapsed in a heap for lunch, took the groovy love bus of perpetual happiness down to Bhaktapur, looked out the window and continued out journey back to Kathmandu where we were dropped off next to the river. In case you were wondering the bus journey from the world heritage site to Kathmandu cost a whole of Rp 30 - 40 American cents, 30 Euro cent, 25p. Amazing.