Twirlers on the Edge

Aleppeylooza

2009-07-22T21:56:00.007-07:00

Off to Aleppey. Hoping to find our way on to a house boat.

Alisa: We heard about the glory of the houseboat adventure and figured that we should partake. As we sought out prices, however, we discovered that our budget might have to be compromised a bit. Eventually we were able to let that concern go...we were going to indulge ourselves.

Tessa: We had one of those boats to ourselves. Just us, the river, and a three man staff.

Alisa: And that we did. Before we boarded the boat, we decided we should stock up on drinks and a few snacks. Just so we could set the mood. This seemingly simple task turned into quite the memorable affair. We went to purchase the gin in a back alley. We were some of the only females making a purchase. We then decided to grab a bite to eat and entered a halal restaurant for a little breakfast. Someone (I won't say names) may have accidentally dropped the newly purchased bottle of gin. It exploded everywhere. I don't think I have ever seen Tessa more embarassed.

Tessa: First, it is important to know that Kerala is a conservative part of India and drinking is looked down upon. Especially drinking by women. Second, we were definitely the only women buying alcohol in the back alley through a caged window and all the men were stuffing their paper-bagged goods underneath their shirts. I put the gin in my purse. Keep in mind that this was the only time our whole trip we bought a bottle of alcohol like that and it was just to celebrate.

Then we go to breakfast at a little Halal restaurant. Halal=Muslim=Absolutely no alcohol. My purse is on my lap and then somehow tips forward and since the zipper is broken all the contents crash onto the floor. The bottle of gin shatters. The family with small children seated next to us screams and jumps back. Everyone glares. The staff moves all the surrounding table and chairs out of the room so the floor can be thoroughly mopped.

Oh, yeah. It was 9am Sunday morning.

Definitely our most embarrassing stupid tourist moment of the year.

Alisa: So we eventually bought another bottle. Thank goodness. That gin served us well.

Tessa: The Kerala backwaters really are serene.

Tessa: Water taxi!

Tessa: One of our crew members took us to visit his home which sat right on the water, and might have only been accessible by boat.

Tessa: This was the inside of the home. Notice the cabinetry - the son is in the "alumonium fabrication" business.

Tessa: Eyes!

Alisa: We had our own personal chef...

Alisa: and our own personal dance sessions.

Alisa: and our own personal sunset, which we used to contemplate the beauty of our joint adventure.

Tessa: Insert Monk theme song.

Varkalacation

2009-07-22T21:56:00.005-07:00

While in southern India, we decided to take a little vacation because, as we all know, traveling can be hard work. We set off to the state of Kerala, heralded by many as one of the most beautiful places in the world and referred to by locals (and the tourist industry) as God's Own Country.

And since neither of us can necessarily remember a lot, from now on we're just going to post individual captions of whatever we do remember.

Alisa: Our first night in the town of Varkala we were asked to help promote a dance club/restaurant. We jumped on the chance! (They offered us half priced drinks!) Within seconds we transformed our hair into cones and were actively trying to get others to join the club. Hours later however, not too many people had joined our crew. Nevertheless, we made it out to the dance floor and danced, danced, danced.

Tessa: I can't believe we failed to draw a crowd. At least the employees (pictured above) were perhaps a little less bored than they would've been otherwise. Although, by how seriously they danced, I think this was a typical night for them.

Alisa: "True Love is True Hearts."

Tessa: So . . . true.

Alisa: "A Positive attitudes create a chain reaction of positive thoughts." This is the philosophy we live by.

Tessa: Auto rickshaw decorations never fail to provide invaluable wisdom.

Alisa: I don't remember this but it reminds me of "The Lion King."

Tessa: It reminds me of dinosaurs.

Alisa: This reminds me of Kansas.

Tessa: Minus the mountains.

Alisa: Florence, Oregon.

Tessa: Especially the palm trees.

WE'RE BACK!

2009-07-22T21:56:00.003-07:00

We're back! After months of saying we would catch up on the blog, we are finally getting caught up. We decided that if nothing else, it will nice for us to be able to look back on this blog and see a bit of representation from the whole journey. We have 17 posts almost ready to post and over the next few weeks, we will post a couple every few days. So, keep checking back in!

This first post, however, is dedicated to our friend, Tina. We met Tina in Laos last November and last weekend she came to visit us in Eugene, Oregon on her way back to London after a year of travel.

We decided immediately that we would have to spend all our time together in "fancy dress." Luckily we throw our fancy dress outfits together really fast.

Our first fancy dress was 80s . . . ish.

Then at 12:30am we decided that our true selves were fairies and that it was really important for us to make wings. With a few pairs of nylon and a couple hangers, we were in business.

To reconnect with our fairy selves we spent some time communing with our natural environment.

After driving up the Oregon coast and meeting lots of wonderful locals like this family:

and this guy:

and these folks:

and this glass jeweler:

and this kid who gifted us with beautiful flowers:

Well, after that, we were in a rush to get to Portland so we pulled over in the Thriftway parking lot and gave our wings the final touch: glitter.

Masterpiece.

We found a bar with a really big bathroom so we could change into our outfits and attach our wings. We spent the rest of the night spreading fairy love and gifting lucky individuals with fairy power-infused seashells that if placed under one's pillow will grant you a wish.

The next day we snuck into the northwest reggae fest. However, we did not incur bad karma because we were dressed as rastafaeries, which officially deflects bad karma.

To bring it all full circle, we went out to dinner with both our parents - just as we did before we left in January 2008.

On our last morning we sported Alisa's special business suits and went on a walking tour of Eugene.

A special little place on earth.

All Good Things Must End

2008-12-13T21:18:00.000-08:00

Over the past two weeks we have had a seriously fantastic trip in The Philippines with Jenevieve Francisco and Paolo Posadas and though we can hardly believe it, today is our last day. Alisa will be back in Eugene on Tuesday and Tessa will be in Eugene on Friday (after a stop in Hawaii!).

Though our trip is ending, we still have a lot of photos, stories, and facts that we plan on posting. So, if you are interested, keep checking the blog because we will probably be posting a lot over the next two weeks or so. The blog lives on!

Though we are very sad about this year coming to an end, we are really excited to see friends and family. We hope that you are having a lovely holiday season thus far, and maybe we will be seeing some of you soon!

Calcutta and Pondicherry

2008-12-01T07:43:00.001-08:00

Upon arrival in Calcutta, we decided to slow it down and relax a little. While the Western world often holds images of an extremely impoverished city, among Indians, Calcutta is also heralded as a center of arts and culture, thus we made sure to visit the downtown and explore the night life. We spent our days wandering amongst the downtown streets, through colonial tree-laden cemeteries, around the parks, and into a colonial art museum. We were also quite fortunate to have a connection with a man who worked for a micro-financing NGO. We spent a day with him, learning about the current issues facing Calcutta and the West Bengal province in general. We walked with him into a slum community where we were able to meet women who had received micro-finance loans and were able to start small ice-chopping, clothing, and food vending businesses. On our way home, we decided visited the Sisters of Charity, where we were able to walk through a little exhibit detailing the life and vision of Mother Theresa. In the adjoining room, the Sisters were singing their daily prayers, aware that Mother Theresa's flower-covered tomb was sitting right beside them.

We didn't take too many photos while in Calcutta, but we did manage to a get a few photos of our favorite restaurant and a little Sikh boy down the corner from us...

Cheap and best. This Indian slogan, which you hear on every street corner virtually everyday, adequately captures the essence of this restaurant. For under 75 cents, we could get 2 chai teas, 3 aloo parathas (an oily, flaky bread that is a close relative to naan), and a vegetable curry.

The man in the center was our waiter (one of our favorite waiters that we have had this whole year). He kind of reminds me of an elf.

Inside a tiny travel agency that you could barely stand up in, we asked this kid's cousin (a guy about our age) about flights to Thailand, and he answered us with all his opinions on the current state of India and the world. He told us that his young cousin was the embodiment of India's doomed future - all he does is play computer games, he doesn't care about school, and he already has a few girlfriends. Kids these days. He also joked that his computer-savvy little cousin is the world's future terrorist. We thought this joke was funny, mainly because it would be so unfunny to the majority of Americans who don't understand the wide variety of reasons for wearing the many styles of turbans and might take one look at this photo and actually think this little kid could be a terrorist.

Lamenting over the corruption in India, the travel agent told us that the only person people listen to in India is Mahatma Gandhi. Wow, we thought, this relentlessly cynical comedian has a heart. And then he held up a 10 rupee note with Gandhi's face on it. "Get it?" he asked.

In the little French colonial town of Pondicherry lies Sri Aurobindo's ashram. People from all around the world flock to this ashram so that they can learn more about the vision of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, his French co-worker who has developed a serious following of her own. Sri Aurobindo's work is fairly complex and a few of the people we met at the ashram have decided to dedicate their lives to understanding his philosophies. The Mother is the creative inspiration and founder of Auroville, an experimental town that seeks to have people of all countries come together and live in progressive harmony while researching practical and innovative ways to spread peace. Auroville, at its essence, is a community of people seeking human unity.

The guesthouse we stayed at belonged to the ashram and so photos and sayings of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother were everywhere: in the bathrooms, the cafeteria, throughout the garden, on the walls of each individual room, directly above every single bed . . . We were lucky enough to have this photo staring down at us all night.

The Matrimandir. This is Auroville's pride and joy and is considered to be a symbol of the Divine. The Matrimandir itself is situated within 12 lotus shaped gardens, an ampitheatre, and an awe-inspiring banyan tree. Inside the Matrimandir lies a 70 cm crystal ball (apparently one of the largest in the world) with a single ray of sunshine concentrating at its center. This crystal ball, according to the Mother, is supposed to be a perfect symbol of human realization. We, unfortunately, were not able to go inside.

On our ride back from Auroville, we were invited to visit our rickshaw driver's home. The house was an impossibly tiny single room for a family of four to eat, sleep, and live in. The driver ran out to buy milk and then made us creamy, sweet tea on the small kerosene stove that sat on the floor in the corner of the room that functioned as a kitchen. The driver's wife, who works from her home creating flower garlands, gifted us with her personal creations.

Sarnath and Bodh Gaya

2008-12-01T07:34:00.001-08:00

This is the Jains, the amazing Servas family that we stayed with in Sarnath, India. They run an impressive educational project for the rural children in the villages surrounding their town. Gini, the lady standing in the middle, is from France and was helping with the project while we were there.

Sarnath is the place where the Buddha spun the Wheel of Dhamma by giving his first sermon, and therefore why there is a Vipassana center just outside the town. This is the beautiful countryside that surrounded the center where we did our Vipassana meditation retreat.

We, of course, never saw the countryside because we were not allowed to leave the compound. In our retreat there were us four women and maybe ten or so men. The men and women slept in separate buildings and even had separate paths for walking from the meditation hall to the dining hall (where the men and women ate in separate rooms). There truly was no talking. This picture is from the last day when we talked to the other girls for the first time.

The two of us had really different experiences in the retreat, but it was incredibly intense for both of us and we would both say it was the most physically painful experience of our lives. Being silent and avoiding eye contact was actually quite nice and relaxing. The actual meditation -- sitting cross-legged and trying to maintain continuous concentration for 10 days straight -- is what was really difficult. It was a weird experience, as well, in that you had no idea how what you were feeling compared to what others were feeling. You could tell that other people were in pain though because everyone would stretch like they were about to run a marathon before sitting down. I think we all still thought that no one else could possibly be feeling as much pain as we were.

The object of Vipassana is not to calm the mind, but to concentrate the mind. At the beginning of every session we would listen to a recording from a cassette tape to learn how we ought to do this. In the beginning, it was really funny (read: really hard and confusing) because the quality of the tape was so poor that we couldn't actually understand any of the directions. Luckily the quality improved a little during Day 2 and so we were able to gather that we were supposed to be focusing on our breath (for the first day Alisa thought we were supposed to be focusing on "bread"). More specifically, we were supposed to focus all of our attention on the triangular area between the upper lip and the tip of the nose and try to notice all of the sensations in that area. Of course, the overwhelming sensation in that area was sweat because it was incredibly hot and the electricity kept going out.

As the days went by, we began spreading our area of concentration to the rest of the body, trying to notice as many obvious and subtle sensations as possible. The object is to observe these sensations and have neither a positive nor a negative reaction to them. One is making progress when one is so focused and attentive that the obvious and painful sensations transform into subtle sensations.

This probably sounds confusing, and we're not even sure we understand it ourselves, but we'd love to talk with you about it if we see you in person. There's lots of Vipassana centers all over the world, so if you're interested in trying it out for yourself, there's probably a center nearby your home.

When Day 10 came and we knew that we would be able to talk to each other in a few hours, we both began falling apart. As soon as we we're allowed to speak, we immediately began laughing and crying at the same time. Neither of us have eve experienced such a feeling a pure relief and release.

After the retreat, we discussed our experience with an Israeli-Australian monk who had also been on the retreat. He took us to the Tibetan monastery to meet these wonderful Tibetan novices who are receiving their monastic schooling in Sarnath.

On our last day in Sarnath, we went with Dr. Jain to visit his education projects. This is one of many preschools Dr. Jain has started to prepare children under 5 years old for school. He hires local woman to teach in the preschools. The women only need a 5th grade education to teach and so it is also a great way to give opportunities to women who might not have many otherwise.

Some of the children from the preschools get to attend a primary school that Dr. Jain and his oganization have just built themselves. The primary school uses an alternative education model. Children in the surrounding villages who are not able to attend the alternative school, or who are too old, can be sponsored through the organization to attend private schools in the area. It pretty much goes without saying that the children's other option of going to a government school is not a very good one. Dr. Jain said that some parents feel that a government school education is so worthless that they choose to keep their child at home rather than send them.

This child is hard at work in his preschool class.

Preschool's over for the day! The kids do lots of singing in their classes and so Alisa and I had to teach them our standby: the chicken dance.

Also, if anyone is interested in sponsoring a child for a year of private school education, or simply interested in donating to the organization, let us know. We have more information about the organization and more information about how to donate.

After Sarnath, we took the train to Bodh Gaya where we stayed in a Burmese monastery with Julie Arcaro. Julie had just arrived with a study abroad program to learn about and practice Buddhist meditation. Alisa and I were graciously invited to participate in a number of the program's activities. We sat in on meditation, philosophy, and yoga classes and we ate meals with the group. It seems our camera was out of batteries or something at the time because we have hardly any photos to capture what a great stay we had. This is a photo of us with Julie outside the Mahabodhi Temple where it is believed that the Buddha sat under a Bodhi tree and attained enlightenment over 2500 years ago. The temple was beautiful and it was really nice to see the large groups of pilgrims that come from all over the world to pay their respects to The Enlightened One.

Back to India

2008-12-01T07:28:00.001-08:00

We spent a total of 2 1/2 months in India and posted very little while we were there. Part of the reason is that in the weeks prior to India we had been moving very fast, always thinking about our next move. When we got to India, we tried to let the time open up a little. We didn't want to be planning too far ahead or feel beholden to deadlines. Hence, a lack of blogging. Of course, keeping up the blog is a chore that sucks up time and money wherever we are (we still love doing it, though!), and right now (as in 1:02 am our time) we finally happen to have a few hours to do some India photos before our eyes start blurring from staring at the screen for too long.

I'm sure most of you haven't really had a clue as to where we are from day to day over these last 10 1/2 months, so posting about India makes as much since as anything else, even though we left there on October 11th and have since touched foot in Sri Lanka, Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. But for those of you who like a little certainty, we are currently in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. While in Laos, we realized (with the help of our new travel consultant, Ellis Ballard) that the cheapest way to get from Cambodia to The Philippines would be to fly through Kuala Lumpur. According to Ellis, KL is the new BKK when it comes to cheap flights. We decided we might as well see the city so we are staying three nights with Polly, a Servas host, and then one night in the airport before flying to The Philippines on Thursday. Polly has graciously shared with us her spare bed and her wonderfully speedy mac.

So far, Kuala Lumpur is absolutely unlike anywhere else we have been in Asia. It is almost aggressively modern, the streets are clean with wide sidewalks and street signs, the population is diverse ethnically and religiously, and there is a rich variety of delicious foods ("they call Malaysia 'The Palace of Foods,'" said our ridiculously positive taxi driver). Frankly, the city reminds me more of San Francisco and Silicon Valley than it does of other Asian cities we've seen. Plus it sits amidst lovely green hills.

Before I go further, I'll just say that the posts from now on have little to do with linear time. The photos you are about to see were taken sometime between today and August 28th.

Back to India. Another reason why it has been difficult to blog about India is that it is simply a very intense country. We contend that every day in India you will see something that you not only have never seen before, but could not even have imagined possible. It is one of those countries in which you really have to go there to get what we mean. The barrage of sights, smells, and sounds can be super invigorating and also really overwhelming. The landscape changes dramatically from state to state, as does the clothing, the religion, and the language. Sometimes it feels like wonderful surprises await you at every turn, like a stream of yellow-clad Hindu devotees stopping traffic as they carry sacred Ganges river water to their homes, or the Dalai Lama waving at you from the passing car. Yet other times the things you've never seen before are also the things you prayed you would never see, like a family of six sleeping on the meridian of the highway . . . in between countless other families of two to ten.

For this last reason, India was also our most difficult country for us emotionally. There were always endless things to write down and frustratingly inadequate time and words and emotional stamina to actually write. Perhaps this is another reason why we actually took relatively few photos and posted little. So although we won't delve much here into the complexity of our experience, the next few posts will hopefully give you a sense of some of the incredible that makes India the Incredible India that it is ("Incredible India" is India's big tourism campaign slogan, of which locals often, and endearingly, like to remind you). Also, we would seriously recommend you read A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. We both read it while in India, admittedly compounding the intensity of our time there, and we are still trying to process the truth to which it bears witness.

Our favorite hole-in-wall breakfast place in the old city of Varanasi. Lacking just the right standards of cleanliness it takes to make food taste really good. The old city of Varanasi is an incredible maze of tiny alleyways in which you never know what you will encounter around the next bend. Will it be a gigantic bull with colored horns, a hoard of children selling bindis, an orange-robed sadu doing puja at his tiny shrine, or simply a wall? This chef's kitchen is actually in the alleyway, leaving the 6 ft by 6 ft room of a counter and stools to be crowded by his customers.

We met this boy on our first day who I (Tessa) actually remember meeting three years ago when I was last in the city. Three years ago he was selling postcards. Now he is a "tour guide." His first question was "Do you know Goldie Hawn?" and at the time we didn't know that this was code for "I won't give up until I earn commission for the scarves you don't even know you will most certainly buy." By some miraculous event that Goldie may or may not know she participated in, every single child wandering the streets of the old Varanasi has an "uncle" who is Goldie Hawn's best friend. Apparently she did buy some scarves here, because this kid did take us to a man named Pappu who had photos of Ms. Hawn in his shop buying scarves as well as a typed (but signed) letter from her expressing her undying commitment to their friendship.

Since Alisa and I can't seem to resist trying on scarves, even ones involved in a scam, and even though we try not to support child workers, we ended up buying a couple. Honestly, once you've been cornered into the back room of a shop, the effort it takes to make it out of there alive without buying something sometimes does not even feel worth the energy.

The boat crew that took us on a Ganges River cruise. The boy on the left is also a "tour guide," and he recruited us for the ride. The thread he wears across his chest denotes that he is a Brahmin, a member of Hinduism's priestly caste group. Brahmins, who are traditionally entrusted with the duty of knowing and preserving all the sacred rites and rituals, are supposed to wear this thread at all times, changing it in a special ceremony annually.

For Hindus, the Ganges is incredibly sacred. Hindus believe in samsara, or the cycle of birth and death. Dying in Varanasi is one way in which Hindus can finally break free of this cycle and achieve moksha, or liberation. Hence, Indians come from all over the country to die here and have there bodies ritually burned on the banks. Some people, however, cannot be burned and their bodies are simply wrapped and placed into the river. These people include children under age 5 and those with leprosy. A dead body floats in the foreground and a boat presumably carrying some of the thousands of daily pilgrims is in the background.

Into this river, people give their deceased relatives, but in it they also bathe, do their laundry, drink out of thirst, and empty their household trash. Life goes on, from every angle, all at once.

The Ganges.

One morning we sat watching people perform their morning rituals in the river and we befriended these girls. They also all have uncles who know Goldie Hawn. They sell bindies and every day seems to be a school holiday. We decided to bring them along to breakfast with us because they were fun company. We had just started eating in the upstairs section of the restaurant when one of the girls accidentally jerked her elbow knocking a glass of water of the table. We were essentially sitting on a deck, so rather than hitting the floor, the water fell directly onto the head of the lady sitting below us. Let's just say she was less than thrilled. Oops :)

This man is hand-painting one of the million hand-painted signs that cover the alley walls.

Unfortunately he's already made a spelling error. We see the hand-written piece of paper that the man is working off of, and we realize why almost every sign has errors. How many of you could accurately paint a Hindi sign onto a wall?

We went to a puja at a goddess Durga temple that had live classical music playing all night. We sat on the roof and watched the throngs of people slowly make their way around the temple and eventually into the holiest of holies just to glimpse an image of the divine and receive a blessing from the priest. We waited our turn as well, and we can assure you that the stone goddess' glittery purple robes were so stunning that even RuPaul would have been envious.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

2008-11-28T04:20:00.000-08:00

These last few weeks have been flying by; we can hardly believe that we will only be visiting two more countries before we reach the States (Malaysia and the Philippines)! That being said, we are packing our days full: waking up before sunrise and not hitting the beds until the wee hours of dawn (okay, that might be a little exaggeration but it does feel like we are on the run all day and all night).

Yesterday we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving. We dressed in our finest holiday attire, drafted a little sign, "ARE YOU AN AMERICAN LOOKING TO CELEBRATE THANKSGIVING...if so, come talk to us!) and hit the Russian market in downtown Phnom Penh. We held the sign for hours, but to our dismay, we discovered that there were not too many (or any) Americans frequenting that market. We then got back into a little tuk tuk and drove to the US Embassy, hoping to catch a few Americans who were looking to celebrate their home-cooked turkey dinner with a few travelers holding a sign on the street corner. Unfortunately, the embassy was closed. Luckily, however, our sign got the attention of two americans in another tuk tuk. They shouted the name of a restaurant on the riverside and we told them we might meet them there later.

We then took a brisk walk through the neighboring park and visited the temple on the top of the hill. As we were walking, we bumped into a man visiting from San Diego (and his young daughter who had just been bit by a vicious, wild city monkey). He ended up giving us a Christian missionary's phone number. So we walked to the nearby hotel and tried to call. No answer. No worries. We decided to sit down and enjoy the happy hour specials.

An hour or so later, we picked up and went down to the riverfront to meet the Americans from the tuk tuk. As we walked through the bustling riverside area, we spotted a bar with no one inside. It turned out to be a Vietnamese karaoke bar that was simply waiting for its regulars to arrive. We figured we could do no harm and quickly put in our requests, hoping to have the karaoke bar to ourselves. The second we hit the stage (with "Stop" by the Spice Girls), however, the Vietnamese karaoke bar went into full swing. They gave us the VIP treatment of free songs and after every performance, various other customers gave us things like napkin roses, grapes, and dried shrimp. Everyone else in the bar was singing very serious Vietnamese love ballads so we thought it was important to spice up the evening with Shania Twain's "Man, I Feel Like A Woman" and TLC's "Waterfalls." We finally finished our night with none other than Helen Reddy's classic, "I Am Woman." The crowd probably couldn't understand any of the lyrics but they still went wild. Who would have known that the American feminist movement would be so popular with the Vietnamese? Maybe they were just feeling the Thanksgiving Day spirit. You know we were.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Luang Prabang

2008-11-09T21:19:00.000-08:00

Happy Halloween! We arrived in Luang Prabang on the evening of Halloween. Upon Alisa's insistence to incorporate balloons into a costume, we began a desperate, last minute search for the must-have costume component. We were hoping for green and purple balloons so we could be grapes, but we only found red and blue - a little accidental patriotism and a bit of a confusing costume, but people were amused all the same.

Leaving the disco with our new Laos friends and Rich, a friend from the Isle of Man (ten points if you've ever heard of this place). Young Laos people take the disco very seriously. They even do synchronized dancing that they've learned from how-to-dance videos.

The next day our friends took us to a waterfall and on our way home we were invited to a village party. They were celebrating their victory in a women's kayak race and we have never seen such ecstatic winners. Karaoke, dancing, and booze a plenty. This man was one of the evening's all-star dancers.

Alisa letting a bird go free at a temple on the top of the Phousi Mountain in Luang Prabang.

We crossed the Mekong River to take a walk through the villages. We gave the kids the balloons left over from our Halloween costumes.

Novice monks collecting their morning alms.

Laos has really beautiful waterfalls.

Elephant Crossing!

The world already feels like a different place

2008-11-09T21:08:00.000-08:00

We woke up at 6am to watch the election returns with other Americans at an American-owned bar. Cheers, tears, champagne - we just wish we could have been in the United States to experience this momentous event with all of you.

The owner of the bar later that night.

Still celebrating late into the night. Yay, Obama.

Since bars in Luang Prabang close at 11:30pm, we spent the rest of the evening jumping for joy in our hotel room (notice the cool wall art) and taking photos of ourselves.

5 days later and we are still devoting every drink to Obama. We really do feel like we can be less ashamed of being Americans. In nearly 10 months of travel we have not met a single person, be it Thai villager, Indian rickshaw driver, or fellow traveler who was not rooting for Obama. Here's to continued American hope and mobilization toward change!

Laos: Untitled.

2008-11-09T20:36:00.000-08:00

In eastern Laos we visited the mysterious Plain of Jars where there are fields and fields full of huge . . . jars. Why are they there? No one knows . . .

This area is also one of the most heavily bombed areas in the world. To see the jars, we had to walk along specific paths that had been cleared of unexploded ordnance. The unexploded bombs are left over from continuous US bombing between 1964 and 1973. Apparently the US dropped an average of one bomb every 8 minutes during these years. This is half a metric ton of bombs for every person living in the country at the time.

Laos people continue to be killed and injured by the bombs every year. In an already impoverished area that survives off of farming, the people's livelihoods are seriously inhibited by the bombs that lie hidden in much of the farmland.

In the local villages, military shrapnel is used for fencing, housing material, and flower beds. The villagers also sell the shrapnel and it is converted into all kinds of things such as forks and spoons. Recently, an increasing number of people are dying in the process of trying to salvage shrapnel to sell. To give you a sense of how little they make off the shrapnel, one side of a cluster bomb (what you see forming the fence) earns US $15. This is a lot of money for subsistence farmers.

Our tour guide, whose two cousins were killed by an unexploded bomb just last year, invited us into his home and shared with us some traditional Laos whiskey - poured out of his grandfather's military canteen. One side of our tour guide's family worked for the CIA during the war and the other side worked for Pathet Lao, the communist resistance group that eventually succeeded in gaining control of their country.

We were lucky enough to arrive in Vientiane during a big festival. The area surrounding the national monument was jam-packed with carnival rides, souvenir shops, food stalls, and lots of stages with singing and dancing performers. This wonderfully inventive man was selling special pancakes for kids. He first used colored pancake batter to draw cartoon characters in the pancake. Then he would write the kids' names in sweet chili sauce, add fried fish sticks, and lots of sweetened condensed milk. We know this combination of sweet, savory, and seafood sounds too good to be true, but the kids loved it. And so did we. So much we nearly vomited.

We visited "Buddha Park" outside of Vientiane. Basically a park full of all kinds of beautiful and strange statues of the Buddha and an assortment of various other gods and creatures. Here two novice monks are posing inside a statue. The park was full of novice monks looking for fun on a Sunday afternoon. This was a photo they were taking of themselves and we just asked if we could take a snap, too.

Novice monks trying to take a photo of us on their cell phone. Even monks have camera phones.

Come On, Drink for the Children

2008-10-28T05:38:00.000-07:00

By posting this, we have automatically offset 350 pounds of carbon!

And this isn't the only thing we've been doing to make the world a better place . . .

We have now made it to Laos. The mountains are really beautiful and the children are refreshingly unjaded. We are staying in a city called Vang Vieng that sits next to the Namsong river. We spent a few days helping out at an organic farm. You would be surprised to know that what they really needed help with was selling mojitos! Of course, we happily rose to the challenge. It seems that the city's main attraction is a wild inner-tubing drink-a-thon designed especially for foreigners (imagine rope swings, zip lines, mud pits, slides, and free shots). The organic farm is situation at the inner-tubing starting point so they wisely set up a bar to raise money for their local education projects. They specialize in organic mulberry mojitos (they're good, trust us) and all the proceeds go towards education. One of their main projects is a bus to get rural children to school. Since no one can resist a slogan like "Drink for the Children," we spent two days convincing passing foreigners into getting drunk for the sake of making the world a better place. Apparently the farm can raise as much as 5 times the profit when a foreigner works the bar. We are proud to say that on our first day we raised 1.5 million kip for the farm (never mind the conversion rates, just think about how big the number 1.5 million is! It's huge!).

While on the farm we also sat in on a Lao children's hip hop class, helped milk goats, learned how to make goat cheese, and ate mulberry pancakes, mulberry fruitshakes, mulberry tea, deep-fried mulberry leaves, and, of course, mulberry mojitos. So far Laos is treating us pretty well.

Look below Amritsar

2008-10-16T02:17:00.000-07:00

We just posted about our time in McLeod Ganj, India and our posting will appear below our Amritsar posting...

Amritsar: Home of the Sikhs

2008-10-12T17:05:00.000-07:00

We arrived into Bangkok yesterday and we are now in northern Thailand in a city called Chiang Mai. We are already loving the amazing Thai street food: mango sticky rice, pad thai, fresh fruits, thai iced tea, and crepes!

We still have a lot to share about India. Here are some photos from a city called Amritsar that we visited in August.

Note the "Horn Please." It does not seem that anyone here needs a reminder. This photo was taken on our way to Amritsar - another overnight bus ride in a bus with one of the world's worst horn systems.

The Golden Temple. This is the holiest place in the world for the Sikh religion, and after visiting numerous holy sites in various countries, Alisa and I will be so bold to say that this is our favorite. It seems to us that it is hard to find the fine line between serenity and earthliness. Some places are so serene they feel sterile - the police men and soldiers make the serenity seem so forced that it is no longer human. Then other places are so "human" they can be suffocating - when people can sell merchandise, pee, or take photos on temple grounds in can be harder to find the serenity. For us, the Golden Temple, which receives tens of thousands of visitors a day, still maintained a satisfying balance of the sacred and the profane.

The community kitchen, or langar, is a good example of this balance. Every Sikh temple has a kitchen which serves all who enter, regardless of caste, class, or creed, 24 hours a day.

There were lots of volunteers hard at work to keep everything running very smoothly.

Everyone sits on the floor to eat, partly as a symbol of all people's equality. Even the prime minister of India has eaten on this floor.

Anyone is allowed to sleep inside the temple.

They have rooms with beds for a small fee, but also free accommodation on the floor. The temple also has free accommodation for foreign visitors, like us, in a special dorm room. In this room, we met people from all over, including Mexico, Spain, Malaysia, Korea, China, Ireland, and Argentina. We even randomly ran into Sean Andrew, who goes to Santa Clara University, but we had never met before!

A shoe salesman getting his beard curled.

Hindu gods, Sikh gurus, Indian movie stars, and white babies. This man has it all.

We had the following conversation with this man:

Man: To which country do you belong?
Us: Amerrrica.
Man: Ah, I'm going to Germany next week.
Us: Uh . . . wow, sounds great!

A similar type conversation with a young Indian woman we met 3 weeks ago:

Girl: To which country do you belong?
Us: Amerrrica.
Girl: Ah, my uncle lives in Australia.
Us: Uh . . . wow. We hear Australia's really nice . . .

Usually, though, the conversations are pretty much always like this:

Indian person: To which country do you belong?
Us: Amerrrica.
Indian person: Ah! Amerrrica! Good country! Very rich. My uncle (or aunt or cousin brother or friend) lives in Texas (or Washington DC or California or New Jersey or Chicago).

Until last week, when the conversations suddenly took a sharp turn:

Indian person: To which country do you belong?
Us: Amerrrica.
Indian person: Ah! Amerrrica.! Very bad economy. Very big problems.
Us: Oh . . . uh, yeah.

A man giving tattoos on the street corner next to a man making dentures.

Who wouldn't trust this face with their permanent tattoo?

We went with our new Malaysian friend to watch the nightly showdown at the Indian-Pakistani border. The Indian soldiers were looking pretty sharp.
Hundreds of Indians gather every evening at sundown to watch their soldiers have a dance-off with the Pakistani soldiers. The soldiers shout, high-step, and stomp and the crowd goes wild.

One last shot of the beautiful golden temple at night.

We know you've been on the edge of your seats . . .

2008-10-06T04:14:00.000-07:00

waiting to find out if we achieved mental liberation at our 10 day silent retreat. We actually achieved so much mental liberation we've been sitting in meditation ever since. Today's our first contact with technology in a month. Not knowing what to do first, we hesitated, turned to each other, and said at once, "we gotta update the blog."
The Vipassana retreat was the actually incredibly exhausting, both physically and mentally. We both agree that it was the most painful experience of our entire lives. Not being able to speak, read, or write was really wonderful, but sitting cross-legged for 10 hours a day meditating on the physical pain was brutal. It was also really hot. There was one day when we spent the whole day meditating on the sensations in the triangular area above the upper lip and below the nostrils. I literally spent the entire day meditating on the bead of sweat that clung precariously to the upper edge of the top lip (I never knew how resilient that upper lip is! All day I was like, "just fall, drop of sweat, fall!").
In the end, it was a transformative experience for both of us, but in very different ways. You'll have to ask us more about it when you see us in person. Let's just say, when we could finally make eye contact on the 10th day we both immediately started crying because the feeling of release was so overwhelming.

We are now in southern India in a state called Kerala. We just spent 24 hours on a supremely peaceful houseboat in palm tree-lined backwaters. In 5 days we head to Bangkok, where the Tessa-Alisa chapter will end and the Tessa-Alisa-Audrey chapter will begin. We'll tell you about it later. Get excited!

Our Ten Day Vipassana Silent Retreat

2008-09-02T06:46:00.000-07:00

Today we are heading out to a Vipassana Meditation Retreat. Ten days of silence. Ten days of meditation.

Here is our schedule:
4:00 am Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm Question time in the hall
9:30 pm Retire to your own room--Lights out

Vipassana is one of India's most ancient meditation techniques. Long lost to humanity, it was rediscovered by Gotama the Buddha more than 2500 years ago. The word Vipassana means seeing things as they really are. It is the process of self- purification by self-observation. It begins by concentrating the mind and observing the natural breath. This creates a heightened level of awareness which allows the practitioner to proceed to observe the changing nature of body and mind and thus experience the universal truths of impermanence, suffering and egolessness. This truth-realization by direct experience is the process of purification, a purification which allows one to face life's challenges in a calm and balanced way. Ultimately, Vipassana meditation aims at the highest of spiritual goals, total liberation and full enlightenment. (All of this is taken directly from http://www.dhamma.org/en/application.shtml, the site where we registered for our retreat)

Not only will we be silent for the upcoming ten days, we will not be able to read, listen to music, journal, or even practice yoga. We also need to abstain from killing all living beings (including mosquitoes), refrain from making eye contact with anyone, and refrain from using gestures. Apparently, after Day Three we will be asked to not move or adjust ourselves (no itching, scratching, picking split ends, wiping the sweat from our brow...)

Last thought: Yesterday we met a monk, of nine years, who mentioned that he did a Vipassana Retreat a few years ago and that he wanted to quit numerous times. What are we getting ourselves into...

McLeod Ganj, home of the exiled Tibetan Government

2008-08-29T05:50:00.000-07:00

From Amritsar, we took a 6 hour bus north to McLeod Ganj. During the six hours we moved from the smotheringly hot desert to the cool, green mountains and streams of the Himalayan foothills. All of a sudden we were up in the clouds, wrapping ourselves in beautiful kashmiri shawls, and enjoying the relief of the drizzling rains.

McLeod Ganj is the home of the exiled Tibetan government. We happened to be there on the day the Dalai Lama was arriving home. We stood on the side of the road with the many Tibetans of McLeod Ganj and bowed to welcome His Holiness as he drove down the street to his house. All he did was drive by, smiling, with his hands held up in a blessing, yet it was amazing how much compassion we felt emanating from him even in those few seconds.

Two Tibetan women waiting to greet the Dalai Lama. This also happened to be the last day of the Olympics and so the Tibetans had organized a large rally and march to protest the Chinese occupation of their country.

Tibetan monks at the rally. Three women spoke, all of whom had spent multiple years imprisoned in China for peaceful resistance to the occupation.

The city was full of protest signs:

McLeod Ganj is an interesting city, because although it is in India, the population seems to consist almost entirely of Tibetan refugees, foreign tourists, and the Kashmiris who own the tourist shops.

We can't help that Kashmiris are really good salespeople. When a disconcerting number of the shopkeepers knew us by name by the time we left we started to worry . . .

Signs like this are essential symbols of seriously touristy areas.

The view from our guest house.

Another view.

And another.

While in McLeod Ganj, we hung out with a wonderful crew of friends: Jackie (a Social Work major at NYU who is originally from the Bay Area) and her boyfriend Paul (who is originally from Great Britain; he is in the navy blue t-shirt). We also ran into Lee, a former IHS student from South Eugene Highschool. What a small world!

On our second night in McLeod Ganj, we realized at about 10pm that the Lord Krishna's birthday was that night at midnight. We wanted to celebrate but, given the Buddhist nature of McLeod Ganj, we happened to be in what is probably one of few cities in India not having a big celebration. We had to make plans fast. We asked around, found a very kind Hindu shopkeeper, gathered a crew and took a taxi to the nearby city of Dharamsala. And then we celebrated Baby Krishna's birth like nobody's business. Above, Alisa (in blue) dances to the beautiful Hari Krishna tunes being played by the live band. The temple and the street outside were absolutely packed with families waiting for the clock to strike midnight.

At the exact stroke of midnight the real live baby Krishna was brought into the temple! We had no idea it was going to be a real baby. He was so cute! They laid him in a cradle and all the Hindu families waited in line to rock the little lord Krishna. The little children were particularly excited and crowded around to get a closer look. After a few prayers, more music was played, women and children danced, and the priests even threw candy into the crowd!

As the festivities died down, baby Krishna's father came to meet us and let Tessa hold Lord Krishna! Tessa felt really special.

The priest is holding the sleeping baby Krishna next to statues of the adult Krishna and his wife Rada.

Agra in the Blink of an Eye: Agra Fort and the Taj Mahal, Indian tour bus style

2008-08-27T02:13:00.000-07:00

Before heading to Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple, we decided to spend an extra day in Delhi so that we could take a day trip out to visit the Taj Mahal. What was supposed to be a day trip turned into a nearly 24 hour adventure (aka a living nightmare): they shoved us into the back of the bus where our seats would not only not relcline, but were voted (by us) the most uncomfortablte seats in the world. It was like our seats were working to make us uncomfortable. And, while there should have been 4 people on that back bench, they squeezed 7. Seven full grown adults (fine, there was one baby...but it was still really really really squished). And we were running five hours behind schedule and we were covered in a swarm of mosquitoes and the bus ride was bumpy and the horns were honking and the ride was seeming to last for all of eternity...Suffice it to say, Indian tourist buses are one of a kind.

Okay, enough complaining. We arrived in Agra around 1 pm. We took a quick bite to eat and then headed out to the Agra Fort, where we were told that we had 45 minutes to explore. After heading to the bathroom, we realized that we only had 31 minutes left to explore the Agra Fort in its' entirety. We knew we had to hurry (even though that goes against every bone in our body). But we figured we should tak the self made challenge...so we ran (aka walke at a speedier pace). This next series of photos you should scroll through as fast as you can, just so you experience the Agra Fort in a similar fashion.

Arriving at the Taj Mahal. Here they gave us a generous hour and fifteen minutes, which we begged them to extend (and they obliged) to walk around and soak up the beauty and grandeur of the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal was built by a grief-stricken Emperor Shah Jhan when his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, died in childbirth. Built in the 1640's, this exquisite mausoleum is one of the finest examples of Mughal architecture.

We have heard, from many a traveler, that this is one site you do not want to pass up...we agree, full-heartedly.

Long live the Taj Mahal!

Delhi: Home Sweet Home with the Agarwals

2008-08-27T01:44:00.001-07:00

We were fortunate enough to be welcomed into the home of the Agarwal Family, where we spent a glorious few days relaxing, eating delicious food, and learning about the ins and outs of Indian weddings (Nidhi, in the black shirt, is getting married in a few months!)

Our favorite street food!

Fresh-squeezed orange juice.

The path leading up to the Delhi Baha'i Temple - a constant colorful stream of people of all different faiths. Complete silence is observed inside the temple and the only sound we heard was the soft jangling of women's bangles and anklets.

Outside the Baha'i Temple.

More street snacks. I think that all three of us would agree that the lack of street food in the United States is one of the main things that keeps us traveling.

Since Katy was heading home in few days she decided to try to cover up the children's "interesting" henna art with some professional henna designs.

The henna artists that work on street corners are incredibly talented. Unfortunately, Katy's pre-existing patterns didn't leave them with much to work with.

Jaipur: Where Rickshaw Drivers are all you really need

2008-08-27T01:16:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Jaipur, the Pink City!

We had a premonition that our rickshaw driver might have been a Muslim. Tessa, in an effort to test out our hypothesis, began to speak a little of the Arabic that she picked up in the Middle East. Instant connection. From then on he seemed to think that she was a Muslim, and he treated us all like sisters.

He even let us drive! (Katy really should keep her eyes on the road)

Tessa was the wildest of the drivers, and our taxi driver was loving it (as you can tell by his expression)! Our first stop was the Amber Fort. (We figure you have seen a lot of photos of forts, so we decided not to post any more. If you really want to see these photos, which are quite breathtaking, you can conjure up their images by just uttering these simple words over and over: Amber Fort. Amber Fort. Amber Fort. Amber Fort.)

We had a whole day of sight-seeing, shopping, eating, and wild adventures planned but we decided, after a a generous invitation from our rickshaw friend, that we would stop off at his home, and visit his family. We were immediately bombarded by children.

And invited to undergo a mehndi (henna) makeover. By the end of the day, there was not a spare ounce of remaining skin that could be mehndi-ed (another word of our creation). On a side note, we think that we were some of these children's first undergoers (possibly another word of our creation). Just wait til you see the photos.

Family love. (Isn't it amazing how many people we fit into this room! Who would have known that a 12 by 12 foot room could fit over 30 people comfortably?)

We made a quick outing to the Sun Temple, where we hiked up a little monkey-filled path to visit a beautiful Hindu temple dedicated to the Sun God.

And then we returned to the family's home, where we blew a few bubbles, ate a delicious meal, and photographed a few more children.

Lesson of the day: Trust all rickshaw drivers who want to take you to their homes (just kidding).

Accidental Encounters With Sacred Spaces

2008-08-27T00:45:00.000-07:00

Due to the fact that Alisa was suffering from acute bronchitis (as diagnosed by Shakti's doctor), we decided to splurge on our accomodations. Engage in a day of rest and relaxation. This really is our favorite hotel/hostel/guest house that we have stayed in (we are excluding our stays with our mothers and Aunt Judy).

These are the two women who manage Achal Niwas, the guest house.

And the head manager. (Notice the kohl under his eyes, a traditional Indian practice to ward off the evil eye)

Right outside our bedroom, and down the stairs, is the shrine. A small shrine is found inside most every Hindu home and it is called the "puja room." While there are many Gods within Hinduism (Hindus like to throw out numbers like 33 million to give you a sense of how many there are), Hindus can generally be divided into three categories: Shiva worshippers, Vishnu worshippers, and goddess worshippers. This is a shrine to the goddess of power named Durga and the 7 Sisters. Daily worship to these home shrines is standard in most Hindu homes.

We love the street food. This man is making one of our favorite sweets (or a variation of it), jelebi.

This is an obligatory snap of this Jaipur and Lonely Planet institution: the omelette man. He has huge books full of postcards from world travelers thanking him for his delicious streetside omelettes.

View of the Jodhpur fort from the roof of our guesthouse.

Sitting in the Jodhpur fort with "The Blue City" behind us. Blue is a traditional color for Brahmin homes. Brahmin is one of the main Hindu caste groups. Historically, members of this caste are the priests who maintain the religious texts and teachings and care for the temples. (We might post a little India 101 later on) Blue is also supposed to be good for keeping the homes cool and the mosquitoes away.

We can't count the number of times we've been nearly speared by horns like that. Walking the streets is a regular obstacle course.

Indian spices.

The Blue City.

Walking to buy bus tickets, we passed by a door that looked like an entrance to a temple. We decided to wander in and found ourselves in the home of a Brahmin priest. We sat on the floor and spent an hour learning how to improve our karma and become better people. It wasn't where we thought the day would take us but as our priest affirmed, we were exactly where we were supposed to be. Two hours into our visit he busted out all kinds of Indian instruments. His grandchildren sit behind him.

His home is also a Krishna temple. In the evenings they bring out the Krishna images and rock them in these swings. Krishna is an avatar (earthly manifestation) of the god Vishnu. Krishna is known for being a bit of a trouble maker and you often see images of him as a toddler stealing sweets. As a young man he would play his flute and seduce young women who would take off their clothes as they followed him. Today Krishna is one of India's most popular gods.

The Brahmin priest loaded our pockets with blessed sweets and sweet-smelling cotton balls to stick in our ears (apparently just so you always have a sweet smell nearby . . .) and we set off for our next Rajasthan destination!

Jaisalmer and our encounter with a prince

2008-08-27T00:27:00.001-07:00

After Katy's program ended in Ahmedabad, a group of 6 of us (Katy, Nick, Sylvia, Jake, Katy, Alisa, and Tessa) headed off to explore the state of Rajasthan. The state has a lot of desert, forts, and palaces. And since we're still not caught up, these next few posts are going to be done rapid style.

photo by Jake Stout

Just before leaving Ahmedabad and getting on our first Indian sleeper bus. The sleeper cabins are above the seats. It kind of constantly feels like you are about to roll out of the bus. And, although, we would not necessarily say that India wins for the most honking, we will definitely say that it has the loudest and most obnoxious honking. The buses in India have these multiple toned honking systems so that they can play a mix of horn sounds like "doodleloo doodleloo doo" or "wooroo wooroo wooroo" or the good ol' "HAARRRNNKKK." I don't know how to express how terrible these horn systems are. Just imagine the 6 most annoying sounds in the world intermixed sporadically, yet repeatedly, for 14 hours straight.

Tessa and Sylvia in their sleeper.

photo by Sylvia

Alisa and Jake in an auto rickshaw.

photo by Jake Stout

For Jake's birthday we all rented scooters. I trusted Alisa with my life . . . but was terrified.

photo by Jake and Katy

Off-roading.

photo by Jake and Katy

Driving into the sunset.

photo by Jake

We didn't quite have this family's style.

The Jaisalmer Fort. There is still a living city within the fort walls. It's nicknamed "The Golden City."

Katy and Tessa met a really nice lady in a doorstep inside the Jaisalmer Fort and asked if she would give us henna fingerstaches. She didn't even charge us!

"Sharing the Love" or "Making a Young Indian Girl Feel Really Uncomfortable"

And then our new friend threaded our eyebrows.

Nick and Jake getting a shave. For all you Bollywood fans out there, the man shaving Jake has also shaved Abishek Bachchan.

We spent a lot of our time in Jaisalmer hanging out with Shakti. He happens to be one of the princes of Jaisalmer (Rajasthan is made up of many kingdoms) and he now runs a beautiful hotel that feels like you're stepping back in time to the good ol' maharaja days. He took us to his uncle's (aka the king's) pleasure palace where he grew up and learned how to swim. It is a magical place of green grass and crumbling ruins set next to a lovely lake.

Shakti is also one of the number one storytellers we have met on our trip. Just to give you a taste . . . When he was a 15 year old high school student he cut off the headmistress' microphone while she was giving a speech to the entire school and blared "We Don't Need No Education" before running out, jumping on his horse, and making three laps around the school. He then rode off to get to know his people and never went back. Yet he's probably one of the smartest people you'll meet.

Cow entering Jasialmer Fort.

photo by Jake
This is India. Enough said.

Reunited with Katy Lackey in Ahmedabad, Gujarat of all places

2008-08-15T05:43:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Delhi and immediately took a 17 hour train to Ahmedabad so that we could see our beloved friend, Katy Lackey, who has spent the last 2 months coordinating a program in which volunteers teach local children about HIV/AIDS.

Upon arrival, we were invited to join in on the program's events of the day. We were presented with three options: piercing shop, salon (pedicures and facials), and/or the dentist's office.

Tessa opted for the piercing. She had never wanted a nose piercing before, but upon being presented with the option, thought "why not?." As you can see, he blunt forced a needle through. Alisa was considering getting her nose pierced but, after watching this spectacle, she decided to pass.

The final product.

Alisa settled with a teeth cleaning.

Katy's neighbors decided to throw their house of volunteers a going-away party - and who are we to refuse a party? Here we are dawning a bit of our Indian garb.

A plateful or two of Indian food and this is what you get: a night filled with lively dance. While there were a few bhangra moves practiced, we spent most of the night learning a few other, more traditional, dance forms that the house mother generously offered to teach us.

What an amazing welcome to India!

Cappadocia, where we cheated the DEATH

2008-08-15T05:42:00.002-07:00

Our tour guide (who also served as a guide for Hillary and Chelsea Clinton as well as Supreme Court Justice Scalia and his wife) took us all around the wonder-filled Cappadocia region: camel rides, mimicking rock structures, tours through ancient underground housing complexes, nights on the town, hot air balloon rides, stunning hikes...this is an area that we could spend a long time in!

These mushroom-looking structures are believed to be straight out of the fairy-tales. When climbing, make sure to duck your head!

Like mother, like daughter.

Feel free to cast a vote: Which mother-daughter duo truly captures the rock structure?

Our hike through the Rose Valley, or a valley nearby, was filled with fruit-eating. We really felt like, if there was any place to be lost (or abandoned)...this was it. The fruit truly abounds in this region!

And we think we have discovered why the fruit abounds: While walking through the valley, we would look up and see many little holes carved into the stone. Apparently the farmers chisel tons of these little holes (one foot by one foot, give or take a little) into the rock formations so that the pigeons in the area will come and rest in the safety and security of the holes. The farmers then gather their excrement and use it for fertilization. How innovative!

Eating in the dining hall of an ancient greek-orthodox monastery, home of devout monks of age old. Walking through the rock-hewn churches and dining halls, we caught a little glimpse of what life would have been like many, many years ago.

We decided to take a day trip to the Greek island of Samos, where we spent the day lounging outside of beautiful restaurants and drinking some of the good wine and the delicious cocktails that they had to offer. After our feasting, we decided to look at the sites: a statue of Pythagoras, an influential mathematician, mystic, and scientist from the 6th century BC.

Greece. (I think Tessa is really perfecting her photography skills!) This is what Pythagoras would wake up to everyday. With inspiration like this, we would expect nothing less than the Pythagorean theorem.

Janet and Alisa overlooking the beautiful island of Samos.

Surprise! The one and only Trisha Hall, as well as her two Turkish friends (which she often refers to as her bodyguards), just happened to be in the exact same city at the exact same time as us. (Thanks to Facebook, and crazy Turkish keyboards, Trisha was able to ascertain that we were both in Turkey. From there it was just a matter of meeting up! Luckily, she was traveling around the country the same time we were!)

This is to a night of wild and crazy dancing, cocktails complete with bursting fireworks, a spirited Iraqi woman who came to Turkey to escape the constant pressure of working for the US military in Baghdad, glamorous dresses, rides in little cars with hotel managers, and Trisha's guitar and singing career. This night was unforgettable.

And yeah, we were ready for the 4:30 am morning that awaited us.

Up, up, and away. Our mother's treated us to an early morning hot air balloon ride, something that Alisa has spent her whole life dreaming about. With cookies and tea in hand, we all anxiously awaited the lift off. Who would have known that hot air balloons really are hot? At some points, it felt like we would burn. We flew up and away, over the Red Valley and rock-hewn churches, over fields, and homes...

When people say that it was a crash landing, they really mean it.

"Brace yourself. Brace yourself." And then we crash, full force ahead. Afterward our hot air balloon pilot wiped the sweat off of his face and pronounced, rather shakenly (which might not be a word, but we like it!), "We cheated the DEATH."

We are always comforted when our guides, pilots, and drivers reflect on how little control they actually had. At least we have a great story for the grandchildren!

A champagne toast to life! To living!

After the rather stress-filled week (just kidding!), we treated ourselves to a Turkish bath. We entered the bathing facility, wrapped ourselves in these sarongs and then proceeded into the bathing room: a huge steam room complete with side rooms housing cool water showers and little benches. In the center of the main room was a huge elevated circular slab, upon which we laid. To the back of the room was another, more intense steam room.

After a thorough steam treatment we waited in line for the Turkish scrub down. Yes, that is the official terminology: scrub (and rub) down. It was the most wonderful, pressure-filled massage/ wash down that we have ever received. One person would be on the rectangular slab lying down receiving the full body massage treatment, complete with a sudsy bath. The other person was receiving an exfoliation treatment from a young Turkish man.

We wish we could receive these daily.

Walking in Famous Footsteps: The Ancient City of Ephesus

2008-08-15T05:42:00.001-07:00

Our second stop in Turkey was Ephesus and on our way to the city we stopped by the last home of Mother Mary. St. John reportedly brought Mary to this small house atop a lovely tree-covered hill to safely spend her final days. The setting is very serene and nearby the house there is holy water and a nice wall for leaving prayers. This modern statue greets you on the way up the hill.

Ephesus is an ancient Greco-Roman city that was once an important port city. With such a long history, the streets of this city have been graced by many a famous footstep - including (supposedly) those of Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Marc Antony, Cleopatra, Augustus Caesar, St. Paul, and St. John.

Here we are, learning our history, in front of the Celsus Library.

Celsus Library again, artistic style.

This is the theater where Saint Paul gave his last sermon before being executed. This massive theater can seat 25,000!

Obligatory photo of us using ancient Roman toilets.

Then we learned how to make a Turkish carpet. What a piece of cake - it's just knots . . . and more knots . . . and more knots . . . and endless, endless knots. Those things take forever - sometimes years! The patience of those women (apparently Turkish carpets are only made by women and prisoners . . .) is astounding.

And did we forget to mention that this is where we stayed? Our hotel was literally on the Aegean Sea. We ate huge, amazing buffet dinners as we drank wine and watched the sun set over the sea. And then Alisa did interpretive dance to traditional Turkish music and . . . butta bing butta boom, got proposed to (ring and all) 2 days later. Awkward . . . but Mother Bright was so happy to be present at her daughter's first - albeit shortlived - engagement.

Turkey: Our Vacation From Vacation

2008-08-15T05:41:00.000-07:00

We have found, at various points on our trip, that our travel feels a lot more like work than it feels like vacation. Like when we get off at the wrong stop in Amman and have to carry our backpacks 2 kilometers along the highway to get to our next bus or when we have to strategize how we can make our last couple shekel (just a few dollars and Israel is pretty expensive) stretch another 48 hours or when we pratically fight our way through touts and rickshaw drivers and then find ourselves walking nearly an hour, with our loaded backpacks, to find the metro. At some point in Israel or Jordan, Turkey became like the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel, a Friday night after an endless string of Mondays. Both our mothers would be flying together to meet us at the Istanbul airport and from then on we would not have to think about a thing - a vacation from our vacation.

Our time in Turkey was unlike any other portion of our trip: beautiful hotels, delicious meals, news clothes, daily showers, and all kinds of luxuries we had not had over the past 6 months. And more than anything else, we got to spend time with our mothers. Time with our mothers would have been enough to re-energize us for our travels even if we had stayed in $2 a night hostels . . . but being spoiled for 2 weeks wasn't bad either :)

The beautiful city of Istanbul. We think this is one of the best cities we have encountered - a fantastic mix of beautiful architecture, lovely waterways, traditional culture, and modern fashion.

A birthday celebration dinner for Tessa. You can't tell but we had a gorgeous view looking out over the Straight of Bosphorus. We are sitting on the European side of Istanbul and we could see the Asian side across the water.

Just a great way to cut an apple.

We spent two days sight-seeing and exploring the city. This is a medusa head used as a base for one of the pillars in the underground cistern.

We spent our last day in Istanbul in between two continents, cruising up and down the Straight of Bosphorus. It was a perfect sunny day and we stopped on the Asian side of the straight for lunch and jewelry shopping. Then on our walk back to our hotel, we couldn't resist stopping for baklava - and then we of course had to sample every different type . . .

Jordan: Desert Dwellin' and King Abdullah Lovin'

2008-08-15T05:39:00.000-07:00

We left the Dead Sea bright and early (a little before sunrise) so that we could cross the border into Jordan and make our way down to Petra, a city that is often cited as the eighth wonder of the ancient world. In an effort to save a few pennies (actually, the Israeli shekel is very strong, so we would have been saving dollars!) we decided to take local transportation to the border. This was a difficult endeavor because it was Saturday, and virtually the whole nation of Israel seemed to shut down in observance of Shabbat. We eventually made it to the border, however, and, due to strict Israeli security measures, had to hire a taxi to drive us up into the border crossing station. Oh well! We were on our way to Petra.

Three short bus rides later we arrived in the town of Wadi Musa and were ready to enter Petra. Petra, a wonder-filled city that is fully carved out of stone, was said to be built by the Nabataeans (an Arab people) over 2000 years ago. It served as one of the major trade crossroads, linking China, India and southern Arabia with Egypt, Syria, Greece and even Rome.

We entered the city through the Siq, a narrow gorge surrounded by soaring 260 foot cliffs. Walking through the Siq was a magical experience in itself- the astounding rock formations and beautiful swirls of color made it feel like we were entering a whole new world! We walked slowly, taking in each moment...

This was one of the many different and- should I dare say- THRILLING rock patterns that we witnessed.

The end of the Siq left us with this stunning sight: the Al-Khazneh, also known as the Treasury. This Treasury, at nearly 100 feet wide and 150 feet tall, was carved right out of the sandstone cliff and is praised as one of the most beautiful architectural buildings in all of Jordan (some may even say the world).

From the Treasury, we wandered inward to view the many other sights that Petra had to offer: caves* (where the Bedouin people actually lived until quite recently), rock cut tombs, obelisks, temples, colonnaded streets, water ways, and the Ad-Meir Monastery (which is located atop a mere flight of 800 rock cut steps). The 90 degree Fahrenheit weather had nothing on us!

*The Bedouins are historically a desert-dwelling, nomadic people of Arab origin. Until the mid- 1980's, the Bedouins inhabited the whole of Petra as their own city, making their home in the caves. In the mid- 1980's however, the Jordanian government- in an effort to preserve the monuments- outlawed living in the city of Petra. The Bedouins moved out of the caves and into a nearby village- complete with housing structures, running water and electricity- and thus entered into a completely different lifestyle.

With sunset approaching, we decided to hike up to The High Place of Sacrifice (where we were going to try and spend a few hours, hoping that we would be able to stay in the site until nightfall and catch the candle lit show around 8 pm). We spent the next hour or so basking in the delight of the setting sun (aka re-creating the sacrificial scene). Time magically slipped away, and we found ourselves walking down in the ever-darkening night (perfect!). Tessa whipped out her head-lamp and we quickly reached the main road.

As we started to approach what we believed to be the candle-lit show area, we were greeted by two Bedouin store owners who were throwing away the remains of their dinner. Our love of food, and desire to catch a free show, beckoned us into their shop where we finished their leftovers and joined them for a few (five each!) glasses of tea. We spent the time discussing everything from the tensions between the Bedouin community and the greater Wadi Musa community (apparently people from Wadi Musa try to paint the Bedouins as a group of people who cannot be trusted) to our favorite Jordanian desserts.

By the time we finished our conversation, Tessa and I were sure that we would be able to glimpse the candle-lit show. As we began the long walk back, we started conversing with another Bedouin man and he offered to walk us out, explaining that the candle-lit show was only two nights a week and that we were there on the wrong night...bummer!

We treasured his company, however, and ended up stopping at another little store to share mint tea with another Bedouin. Eventually, we finished our tea and continued our hike out.

As we walked out of the exit gate of Petra, two guys from our hotel walked up and, in a huge commotion, shared how they had been waiting for us (we have no clue why) for the past few hours and that we were in Petra for too long, "the Bedouins cannot be trusted". They then said something to the security guards (we think they were trying to teach us a lesson) and then the security guards motioned us onto the side, where we were supposed to wait for the police. Five or ten minutes later the police- a rather lacksadaisical crew- came and, rather uninterestedly, asked us a few questions. We were free- no big deal.

We've all heard that saying that one should make a big entrance. We, however, feel that it is all in the exit.

The next day we went to a castle and ended up crossing paths with Ellie, a USAID worker who loves adventure. We ended up catching a ride back with her to Amman. On the way back to the city, she pulled her car off the road and we all jumped into the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea. The salt formations here were incredible!

Back in Amman, we were able to meet up with Azalea, Tessa's friend from studying abroad in Thailand. Azalea is currently teaching English to young Jordanians. Tessa and I were the guest speakers for the day!

That last night we settled down for business with our new friend, Haya, and her family. Her family is Palestinian (according to one friend we met in Jordan, 60% of all people living in Jordan are from the neighboring countries, many of whom are refugees). Her mother cooked us a delicious Palestinian dinner, her parents gave up their bed so that we could sleep on it (half of the family said that they prefer to sleep on the floor!), the cousin brought in a huge bag of icecream treats and popsicles (we were each forced to take multiple), and the older brother (a nurse) operated on Tessa's puss-filled and swollen toe. Couchsurfing.com has really come through for us.

Our friend, Zafira, took us out to a few art galleries in Amman. She also took us to see a short and informative little documentary about Palestine and its right to existence.

Amman, the city of crisp and clean white-washed buildings all made of the same local stone. Apparently, for a time, Jordanians were outlawed from painting their houses.

King Abdullah II bin al-Hussein. He (okay, his photo) is everywhere. Literally EVERYWHERE. Smoking hookah, scuba diving, dancing at a ball...we cannot even remember a fraction of the photos we saw. Needless to say, he is loved.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

2008-08-15T05:38:00.000-07:00

We decided that since we were so close to the birthplace of Jesus that we ought to follow in Mary and Joseph's footprints and see what miracles awaited us in Bethlehem. It also gave us a good excuse to visit the West Bank. This is the little town of Bethlehem at sunset, which actually does have a wonderful small town feel.

When our bus dropped us off in Bethlehem we had no where to stay and no clue as where to go to fill our empty stomachs (remind you of anyone?), but luckily a kindly stranger (in true Bethlehem style) pointed us in the direction of a hot falafel en route to the Church of the Nativity.

The Church of the Nativity is divided into two sections, one part managed by the Franciscans and the other part by the Orthodox. The sections have completely different feels and the environment overall is rather strange because various groups have rights over different spaces and times so it seems that you are constantly being pushed from one place to another by hurried priests. We barely made it into the underground cave to see the actual birthplace of Jesus before we were kicked out by priests.

We also visited the Milky Grotto where the holy family stopped on their flight to Egypt. It is here that Mary supposedly lactated and a drop of her breast milk turned the walls of an entire underground cave white. Women have been coming to this cave ever since to collect bits of the walls and use it to cure breast feeding problems.

We stayed just outside of Bethlehem in a town called Beit Sahour with three Brits who are building a permaculture farming project. One of our hosts, Nick, took us on a tour of the area. This is a photo of the wall that cuts directly through Bethlehem dividing Israelis from Palestinians. It's crazy to see how the wall twists to keep Israelis "in" and Palestinians "out." The wall was covered in graffitti including a lot of powerful, professional art.

Near the wall, a man pulled over his car and began talking to us. It seemed he just needed someone to whom he could tell his story. He was a souvenir seller and had recently been kicked out of his spot outside the Church of the Nativity. His devastation and desparation was apparent. He was now trying to find a way to sell some of his goods so that he could feed his family. He blamed the Hamas government for his misfortune and was so discouraged with the current state of affairs in the West Bank that he told us he wanted Israeli occupation again. Our British hosts told us that this kind of talk is not atypical and that they have noticed in their community a general sentiment that things are getting worse. Many factors contribute to the Hamas government's inability to effectively govern, and the Israeli government's failure to give them the tools and opportunity certainly must be part of it.

A Palestinian refugee camp in Bethlehem.

While walking down a quiet Bethlehem street, an old man with the loudest donket we have ever heard invited us into his home. We sat with his family (including the grandchildren above) and were given an endless supply of treats - plums, apricots, olives, olive oil, and the most delectable fresh bread. In return we made origami paper cranes and did magic tricks. Our mastery of Arabic equalled their mastery of English but somehow the smiles (and the donkey's nonstop braying) filled the silence and two hours passed before we knew it.

On our walk home, Nick decided we ought to make a Palestinian flag out of all the trash that filled a wooded area used by families for picnics. He thought it would prove a good point about environmentalism and caring for the future of one's home. Alisa and I though it was a good experimental art project. We decided to test the first passerby and see if our project was a success. The first subjects were two 12 year old boys who, when prodded (by Nick, who speaks some Arabic), did recognize their country's flag . . .

and immediately destroyed it. What Alisa and I saw as art, and Nick saw as a statement on environmentalism, the boys saw as a serious affront to the dignity of their nation. They were particularly offended that we had placed a beer bottle in the green section (the consumpsion of alcohol is one of the cardinal sins of Islam). Nick talked with the boys for while and then we walked away. A mixed expression of indignancy, fiercity, mischeif and amusment was left on the boys' faces. Nick felt they had learned a important lesson in environmentalism that would be valuable to them later in life. Alisa and I felt rather sad about our work of art being destroyed. But we all agreed that it was good lesson in detachment and questions of modernization, colonialism, national pride, and childhood followed us home.

All of the above events took place on Tessa's birthday. This photo was taken shortly after a birthday barbeque celebration inside a nearby cave in which the guy on the right told us that it was really important we walk on fire. He was so convincing that we walked on the smoldering coals. He promised it wouldn't hurt. It did. But not a couple days later. He also gave us a new name for a blog which might appear later. (We've decided that we want to keep changing the name so feel free to send us ideas)

On our last day in the West Bank we witnessed a showdown between Jewish "settlers" and a group of protesters. The settlers are more or less an organized group of people who are strategically building settlements in the Palestinian territories. These settlers should probably go under the category of extremists, not typical Israelis, and many of them, in fact, are not even Israeli, but American. They seem to have the underlying, or perhaps even overt, object of gaining control over the entire "holy land." Building settlements is technically illegal but once they are settled the Israeli government has to protect and provide for them and so that area essentially becomes an extension of Israel. The space in contention this day was a former military base in the middle of a Palestinian town. The locals are trying to make the space usable and so far have established a community center for activities like art classes and youth camps. They would like to build a children's hospital but need permission from the Israeli government. Though there were locals busy using the community center while we were there, the group of active protesters largely consisted of international volunteers. This group had strategically painted pictures of children, schools, falafel shops, etc. on the old military buildings and in response the settlers painted over the pictures with things like "Jews in Judea" and "Israel for the Jews."

We left Bethlehem for the Dead Sea, possibly the most deceptive sea in the world. It looks incredibly alluring, especially since it is so dang hot on its shores, but after a few minutes you are inevitably in pain. The water is so salty that it stings every open cut on your body and you find yourself in pain in places you didn't know were possible. Then if you get it in your eyes the stinging is unbearable but you can't open them or wash them out because there's no fresh water. You finally escape the sea in terrible pain and completely dehydrated. But you do float and it's fun to play with mud.

Also, we discovered that although the Dead Sea is surrounded by the West Bank, Palestinians are only allowed to go Sunday through Wednesday and then only families are permitted. Israelis can go any day of the week . . .

Tel Aviv and Haifa

2008-08-15T05:37:00.000-07:00

Saturday at a beach in Tel-Aviv, Israel. Our day in the beautiful city was spent window shopping the boutique shops (everything was closed for Shabbat), admiring the very fashionable Israelis, and watching the sunset from the fort of one of the world's oldest port cities. We also ate the most delicious chicken schwarma ever, but felt like it cost us an arm and a leg. If anyone thinks Israel will be cheaper than the US, think again.

We then headed to Haifa to see yet another one of the holiest places in the world.

In Haifa, on Mount Carmel, is the Baha'i World Centre, the administrative center for the Baha'i faith and also the location of the Shrine of the Bab. Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i Faith, was a follower of the Bab. The Shrine is in the middle of the hill and above and below are some of the most spectacularly manicured gardens you will ever see. These photos hardly capture a inch of its grandeur, beauty, and attention to detail. Part of the reason is our poor photography skills and the other part is that the gardens are carefully protected. To see them you have to prebook a spot in a guided tour and during the tour you are only allowed to stop for photos twice. The space therefore lacks the earthy, and often gritty, humanness of other religious sites, but it does retain it's serenity, unlike most other holy places we've seen.

The view from the gardens - looking out over Haifa and into the Mediterranean.

In another major difference from other religious sites, the Baha'i administration asks Baha'is not to live in Haifa. They feel that there is already too much religious conflict in Israel and they do not want their religion to be a part of it. Therefore, all the Baha'is in Haifa are volunteers working at the center. We asked one of these volunteers where to get a cheap and delicious lunch. He told us we would have to walk to the Arab part of town and we said that's fine because we have more time than money. Once we reached the Arab area we asked a fruit vendor where we could find the best falafel. He gave us a name of a restaurant and after walking down small lanes and questioning many strangers we eventually found a tiny shop. It was truly great. The falafel sandwiches were huge, really good, and they kept adding more tzatziki and garlic sauce whenever you wanted. In the shop we met a Finnish-Arab guy who was staying with his relatives in Haifa for the summer. We have never met anyone who hates their home country like this person did. He escapes Finland as often as he can to bask in the Mediterranean sun. We went with him to the beach.

And built a sand castle. While building, a guy from Belarus came out of nowhere and started playing guitar. Then he disappeared leaving us with a huge Israeli flag . . . A huge Israeli flag is one of those things you are just not sure what to do with - hard to say what kind of response it will elicit. We took some photos with it and then tucked it away before entering the West Bank.

It's jellyfish season! Or at least it was a month ago. The beach was littered with the translucent bodies and no one dared go swimming. We stuck our toes in and got stung instantly.

In addition to Alisa's lip problems, her nose is suffering as well. It has been permanently bright red since Egypt. We have now decided it must be because of the doxycycline we are taking for malaria. We didn't know this then and went to the Haifa beach lifeguard for help. He gave her a bandage.

What made our time in Haifa really special was our couchsurfing hosts (http://www.couchsurfing.com/). We contacted an engineering student named Natalie and though she personally couldn't host us, she said her friend Igal could. Igal, also an engineering student at Haifa's Tecnion Institute, welcomed us into is shared apartment and set to work cooking us his mother's world famous chicken schnitzel. Yum.

The next night we had a pasta dinner with a special sauce prepared by Shoky and enjoyed by all. We stayed up late talking and learned a lot about what it is like to be a young Israeli. Like all Israelis, our friends will dutifully serve in the army after finishing school (girls for one year, boys for two). All of them could also relate, whether personally or through close friends or family, to a recent terrorist attack. It's hard to imagine what it would be like to be a young person in Israel, a country at once so powerful, controversial and threatened, to feel what it is like to be the attacked and the attacker. One of our friends mentioned that no other country would ever be demanded not to retailiate against a terrorist attack, but Israel is. They also talked about recent threats of nuclear attacks from Iranian President Ahmadinejad. In the same conversation we also talked about current discrimination against Arabs and the reality that Arabs and Israelis intermix so infrequently at their university (evidenced by the fact that they could name the few people that do intermix).

We really appreciated their willingness to talk about politics, their diverse cultural histories, and modern religious practice. Israel is fascinating, because while it is such a young country and contains so many people of different backgrounds (there's no such thing as traditional Israeli music, for instance), there exists an incredibly strong shared identity and history. So while our friends disagreed with each other on specific political strategies and Israeli policies, and while some came from conservative religious families and others from secular families, the commitment to the nation and the protection of its citizens is strong.

Our host, Igal, showcasing his guitar skillz.

Jerusalem

2008-08-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Israel! This photo was taken in a mall in a Jerusalem suburb. This is indeed the world's very first kosher McDonalds. Our friends told us that in the first years after it opened there were always huge lines of American teenagers waiting to get their first juicy bite of Mickey D's. We thought this story was kind of cute. Our Israeli friends thought it was pathetic. Questions of materialism, commercialism, globalization, and cultural and religious identity abound!

Our 4th of July celebration this year consisted of making our Servas hosts Vered and Rotem, and their Canadian-Dutch friend Natana, pretend to be fireworks. Can you feel the American pride?
We stayed with Vered for four days and not only did she provide us with an oasis of peace after hectic travels in Egypt and Jordan, she also cooked us wonderful, healthy Israeli meals that included lots of salads, cheeses, and yogurts.

We spent of couple days wandering around the Old City of Jerusalem. The small, walled area consists of tiny streets and alleys that wind up and down the hill and then dead end unexpectedly. It is also chock full of tourists and vendors ready to make the most out of every potential customer (if that "don't worry, be Jewish" t-shirt is the one thing you need to make your wardrobe complete, the old city is waiting for you). But if you can navigate your way through the chaos, you are rewarded with some of the holiest religious sites on earth.

The Western/Wailing Wall. This wall is venerated by Jews as the only remaining, exposed part of the Second Temple that was built on the Temple Mount. Among other things, the Temple Mount is believed to be the place from which God took the dust to create Adam and from which the universe was created. The exact place of the Holiest of Holies is unknown and, therefore, Jewish law forbids Jews from walking on the Temple Mount for risk of stepping on it. Jews come to this wall to pray and grieve. The cracks of the wall are crammed with wadded up pieces of paper and cloth upon which prayers are written. Men are on the left and women on the right. One had to go through a security checkpoint to enter the large, open space. The contrast between serious mourners and Jewish guards trying to catch all the inappropriately dressed tourists was interesting.

Via Dolorosa. Meaning "Way of Suffering," here it is written on a street sign in Hebrew, Arabic, and Latin. This is believed to be the path Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion. The stations of the cross mark the path and the endpoint is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which supposedly contains the Hill of Calvary and Jesus' burial site. Unlike the wide open spaces of the Wailing Wall and the Dome of the Rock, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is nestled in the middle of the Old City and the interior is rather dark and cramped. While we were there the Orthodox and Franciscans priests were processing through the church at slightly different times. The chanting was incredibly beautiful and mesmerizing but it was also a bit hectic as you found yourself being kicked out of one space to make room for the one group only to turn around and be pushed out of that space to make way for the other group. According to the Lonely Planet, there is so much tension between the various Christian sects that a local Muslim family has the key to the church and are the ones responsible for the locking and unlocking.

The Dome of the Rock. Built in the center of the Temple Mount, on top of a stone which some believe to be the site of the Holiest of Holies for Jews, is the Dome of the Rock. Muslims believe this is where Mohammed ascended to heaven with the angel Gabriel. Non-Muslims are only allowed to enter at certain times of the day and you must go through a security check and then walk through a covered ramp that goes directly over the Wailing Wall (the ramp is just to the right of the photo above). The Dome of the Rock is stunning and the surrounding space lovely with trees and fountains and a great view over the city. We sat peacefully and took in the scene until a Muslim guard came up to us to make sure we were not praying. Apparently praying is not allowed . . . not sure exactly why.

An graffiti image of Handala on a wall in the Old City. Handala is most famous character of the Palestinian political cartoonist, Naji al-Ali. The character represents the 10 year old al-Ali when his family was forced to leave Palestine in 1973. Al-Ali, who was assassinated in 1987, said that he would not turn the character around until the liberation of Palestine is realized. The image has become a symbol of the Palestinian liberation movement and we saw it in all different forms (graffiti, stickers, t-shirts) throughout the West Bank and Jordan.

Somehow time just slips by . . .

2008-08-10T05:24:00.000-07:00

So somehow over 4 weeks have passed by since we last updated and made our big comeback. It seems that comeback was a little premature. But don't fear because we are now in India where the high tech industry is booming and we have lots of photos waiting to be uploaded as soon as we get the chance.

Since you last heard from us: We have visited some of the holiest sites in the world for Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Ba'hais. We have seen the massive wall that divides Bethlehem neighborhoods into Israel and Palestine. Young Israelis have told us personal stories of terrorist attacks and Palestinians have testified to half a century of oppression. We have celebrated birthdays, walked on fire, pierced our bodies, had our teeth cleaned, and received marriage proposals. We swam and bathed in the dead sea and then slept on its shore. We got rejuvenated and lived the high life with our mothers in Istanbul and sailed in a hot air balloon across the mesmerizing Cappadoccian landscape. We have walked through the forts and palaces of Indian maharajas and even made friends with a Rajasthani prince (a direct descendant of Krishna, no less).

All this and more to come. Sorry to keep you waiting . . . but HOLD ON!!!

Mall Dancing

2008-07-06T16:14:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't feel life is complete without Alisa's dancing, this one's for you. Location: Food Court, City Stars Mall, Cairo.

By the way, we did make it to Jerusalem and it is fascinating - not just because of all the holy sites, but also because of the crazy people watching. Orthodox Jews, girls in booty shorts, and everything in between.

It took us 6 hours to get across the border. Not bad, but waiting in passport control at the Israel border felt like forever. Part of the room had literally become a children's jungle gym with kids hanging upside down from the railings and running in circles. The speed of the line was beyond slow and kept being further delayed by families that reached the front of the queue and then couldn't find all of their children. Honestly? You lost your kid?

The Return of the Puppets

2008-07-06T13:21:00.000-07:00

We wandered into a little tailor shop in Madaba, Jordan and noticed a fantastic puppet (or is it an oven mit?) hanging on the wall near the ceiling. The following ensued:

Jerusalem Bound

2008-07-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning we will wake up early and try to get to Jerusalem. Today we tried to look at Jerusalem from Mount Nebo, the place where Moses supposedly died (we just can't get enough Moses on this trip), but the view was really hazy. We decided we better go see the city in person.

Everyone should guess how long it will take us to get across the border. Apparently, if you could drive straight through it would take an hour and a half . . .

Amman: Where the Falafel is Good and the Hummus is Even Better

2008-07-01T11:21:00.000-07:00

We are so caught up we are posting photos taken today!

Except this photo was taken yesterday. We are now in Jordan and exactly half way through our 11 months of travel. We can't believe we're only half way, but we are feeling great and going strong. This is our half way-through celebration dinner of pita, hummus, and falafel. The food in Jordan is really, really good, and we've been a lot of places, and so we really mean it when we say this food is good.

Though also an Arabic speaking country, Jordan already feels quite different from Egypt. In Cairo everything was grandiose and elaborate - big, fancy buildings, bright colors, and bold prints. In Amman, almost every building is rectangular and white. There is a simplicity, but also an orderliness and, perhaps, cleanliness. For instance, the people selling fruit on the streets wear gloves. They might be smoking a cigarette in the gloved hand, but at least they're wearing them! Amman seems a little less conservative than Egypt as well, at least in terms of dress code. We have seem numerous women of various ages walking around without headscarves. So far there is also less hassle than in Egypt. We visited a very touristy place today and none of the vendors asked more than once if we wanted to buy. Amazing!

Another neat thing about Jordan is that the entire country is within 4 hours of the capital. Today we hopped on a minibus for an easy 40 minute drive and arrived at Jerash, home to the remains of Gerasa, one of ancient Rome's decapolis cities. Here are a few shots of the truly impressive ruins. (We really liked it, if you can't tell.)

As of now, you know exactly where we are!

A Celebration

2008-07-01T10:48:00.001-07:00

To celebrate us finally, finally, finally getting caught up on the blog (it has taken us many hours and many different computers all with very slow connections), we get to post this photo of Alisa's sunburnt lips. Just keep in mind that they got much worse before they got better. In this photo, the pussing has not even begun.

Ruins, Ruins, and More . . . Shopping Malls

2008-07-01T09:29:00.001-07:00

After we lost Marques to medical school, we headed down to Luxor to see some of the best ruins Egypt has to offer. We were awestruck, to say the least, and won't pretend that our photos come close to capturing the magesty and mystique of coming face to face with ancient temples and tombs.

For instance, this photo barely gives a taste to the sea of columns we encountered at Karnak temple. This temple was expanded and elaborated by one pharoah after another and the wealth of history is overwhelming. Almost every inch of ruin was covered in incredibly detailed carvings recounting stories of civilizations, royalty, and gods.

Next we had to visit the tombs. We couldn't take photos inside the tombs but the artwork was very beautiful and well-preserved. The walls and ceilings were full of brilliantly colored scenes of gods and goddesses, as well as hieroglyphics describing the Book of Dead. It felt as if the paintings would come alive and the gods would jump off the walls. This photo is from the the outside of Queen Hatshepsut's embalming temple. The inside of the tombs were like this times 20.

The Valley of Kings. Beneath here are unknown numbers of royal tombs weaving through the earth.

At the Egyptian Museum we saw lots of mummies but the one that was missing was King Tut's. We got to see it inside his tomb. His tomb actually is not as elaborate as the others, but it is the only one so far that has been found fully intact, making it very special. All the other tombs were robbed by tomb raiders long ago - some even shortly after the king or queen was buried. We're glad they didn't get to King Tut's - his mummy was really burnt and crispy looking. It was cool.

Also in Luxor, we took a ride on the Nile in a wind-powered falucca. There wasn't much wind and a leisurely ride down the mighty river was just what the doctor ordered.

We knew we couldn't miss an opportunity to drink from this beautiful, ancient, and sacred source of life and love.

But don't worry, hypochondriacs, we "steri-pen"ed it first. And it tasted delicious.

And then the sun set.

We spent a long time posing for these girls who lived next door to our hostel. At one point they asked Alisa to take a few photos of them. They taught her very carefully how to hold it, wind it up, look through the eye hole, etc. Alisa picked up the camera to discover there was no back and nothing inside. We loved that these girls took their jobs as photographers very seriously -- and they never ran out of film.

A striking difference between the drought in Ethiopia and the modern cities of Egypt were these public water fountains found all over boiling hot Cairo.

When we got back to Cairo we stayed with the Fathy family for our last 2 nights. Here is 8 year old Yosef and I sitting down for lunch at 7pm. After hours of playing dominoes and card games, it was 2 am and Alisa and I were dragging our tired bodies into bed. The rest of the family, however, including Yosef and little neighbor kids were just sitting down for dinner and couldn't believe we didn't want anything to eat.

Not surprisingly, the family didn't really begin to surface until noon the next day. We set out on a mission to buy pants as the only pair I had left were my pajamas. Malls can be an intense experience without 3 young Egyptian women and an 8 year old, so you can only imagine what we were in for.

We shopped and shopped, being pushed and dragged from one store to another, all while the girls maintained nonstop cell phone conversations in which we would be asked to periodically interject things such as "I like Egypt." Here is Sara and her friend at the second mall taking a much needed ice cream break. Duck fans be glad, the combo of green and yellow is all the rage in Cairo.

It took us over an hour in a taxi to get through the Cairo traffic and back home. South Africans (*cough*Gilli*cough*), we know you think you have bad traffic, but it is nothing compared to Cairo. Back home, we found the entire apartment complex strung with multi-colored, blinking wedding lights, men shooting off fireworks, and a cow waiting to be slaughtered.

The next day . . .

Goodbye, Egypt!!!

Happy Birthday, Marques Johnson. Love, Egypt.

2008-06-30T13:38:00.000-07:00

A few months ago our friend, Marques Johnson, mentioned that he would like to meet up with us on our trip. We told him the dates that we would be in Egypt (apparently the dates that I told him were a few days off...oops!) and he booked his flight.

Three weeks ago, we received an email from Marques detailing his vision for his time in Egypt: he wanted to hit up every Hard Rock Cafe in the country. He invited us along. (We would be insane to not take up that challenge. Who wouldn't want to visit expensive American chain restaurants while traveling through foreign lands with rich culinary traditions?) Needless to say, we were up to the challenge.

Our first day in Cairo we set off to find a post office. While roaming the streets in search of an English speaker, or an expert at the game of charades, we ran into Hesham. We asked Hesham, a middle-aged watchmaker smoking on the side of the street, if he could direct us to the nearest post office. He then insisted on walking us to the post office and paying for Marques' international post stamps. He spent the rest of the day making our dreams come true: arranging for us to get motorcycle rides around the city (okay, that was just me), taking us out for a delicious lunch of falafel and chicken schwarma, and showing us where we could get the best (and cheapest) fresh-squeezed orange juice. We then parted ways for dinner. I guess he did not want to join us at the Hard Rock Cafe on the Nile. Weird.

After dinner, we called our friend that we met on the airplane (a lively Egyptian woman who insisted on having us stay with her family). We packed our bags and checked out of the hotel. After they saw Marques, however, we discovered that our overnight option was no longer possible (apparently her broken English and our limited Arabic left a lot of room for confusion). Mama Ebtesam has a 22 year old daughter and, in Islamic culture (according to her) it would be highly inappropriate for her daughter to sleep in the same household as a single man of Marques' caliber. Instead we dined with the family until the wee hours of the morning. (Egyptians are WILD: They eat lunch around 7 pm and dinner around 1 or 2 am. Children play on the streets far past midnight. Business people receive personal calls up to 3 am in the morning.)

The eldest daughter, Sara, insisted on giving Tessa and me an Egyptian make-over.

Around 3 am, we mentioned that we should probably head back to the hostel. The next day we had big plans: visit the pyramids of Giza and then head off for Dahab, a town on the Aqaba Channel (off of the Red Sea), where we could easily visit the Hard Rock Cafe.

We took the metro out to Giza and then caught a bus to the pyramids. On our bus ride, we ended up striking a conversation with the man next to us. This man told us that he knew a cheaper and more adventuresome way to view the pyramids. (Not until later did we learn that one is to NEVER, ever- according to Lonely Planet- let a local on the bus convince you to take an alternative route). He guided us to a few stables behind the pyramids. We sat down and participated in what is termed 'Egyptian hospitality'. We drank some tea (the Egyptians drink it with anywhere from 4-8 spoonfuls of sugar) and planned our pyramid viewing experience.

Here Marques and I are on our camels, Micheal Jackson and Mickey Mouse respectively, trekking through the desert. Tessa is a little further back listenting to our Egyptian guide share about how he is trying to get a third wife. Apparently, it is the same price to get an additional marriage as it is to get divorced. Our guide also informed us that the pyramids were constructed around 4600 BC. We double-checked that and the 25th century BC seems to be a little more accurate.

We were some of the few out there. Visiting the pyramids during the hottest time of the year- at the hottest time of the day- does have some perks.

We all decided to go for a sunset canter through the Sahara desert. Here Marques and I are kissing our trusty companion.

Late that night we set out for the Dahab (read Hard Rock Cafe). We arrived in Dahab to discover that it was a wonderful little Egyptian tourist town just 35 km or so from Saudi Arabia (we could see Saudi Arabia out across the water). We spent a few minutes locating the cheapest possible lodging: The Auski Hotel (under $5 a night for all three of us).

So, Marques may have fallen through the bed and Alisa may have had two or three troops of ants occupying her bed...either way, we were thankful for the cheap and friendly accommodations.

That night, we discovered that we were really close to Mt. Sinai (the alleged mountain in which Moses received the Ten Commandments from God). We decided we would hike it. We left the hotel at 11 pm in the evening and started hiking at 1 am.

Marques and Tessa made it to the top around 4 am. Alisa, took it a little slower, and made it up just in time to greet the rising sun (about 2 hours later). Here we all are together, with the moon in the background.

Our friend Heimen, who sat at the top of Mount Sinai, on the steps of the church, drinking beer and selling fossils. He gave us each a free fossil before we left. We gave him our hearts.

While atop Mt. Sinai we met a friend, Diaa el Din. He lives in Sharm el Sheik (the actual city in which the Hard Rock Cafe resides) and gave us a little tour of his town. He is really knowledgeable, and funny.

Marques' Birthday Dinner! Marques insisted that we all wear the same colors. Luckily, Tessa and I had our black dresses. We had to borrow a black shirt for Marques.

We feel like we have to take part in as many cultural activities as we can. The hookah is one of the staples of Egyptian society. Many Muslims do not drink but, according to an Egyptian friend, about 70% of Egyptians smoke. Any and every time of the day you can walk out and see little coffee shops filled with men (and sometimes a few women) smoking hookah. This trip was Marques' first time smoking hookah. As you can tell by my expression, he is a really good hookah smoker.

On our last day, we all visited the Egyptian Museum. Marques was interviewed before entering. The whole interview was conducted in Arabic! We entered the museum and were immediately overwhelmed. The Egyptian Museum is essentially a huge warehouse stocked with piles and piles (yes, piles) of ancient Egyptian artifacts. Tombs, sarcophogus', mummies, and travelers sitting on top of Pharaonic antiquities- oh my!

Ethiopia: They Do Things Differently There

2008-06-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

We flew into Ethiopia with no clue as to what to expect. Thankfully, we realized a few days before arriving that Alisa has four Krista friends living in Addis Ababa. To our surprise, Josh was waiting for us at the airport when we finally got through customs (3 hours after Josh first arrived!). We were immediately welcomed into their home and with their help, we had an altogether incredible adventure in Ethiopia.

Left to Right: Sarah, Maren, Josh, and Bethany

These four are living in Addis for one year teaching English at the Hope Enterprise School. (Interesting bit about them...as we set off for our explorations, they took a 4x4 in the opposite direction where they met up with a hyena man. They each placed a stick of meat in their mouth and had a pack of hyenas run by and eat the meat off of the end of their stick! Only in Ethiopia!)

One of the many butcheries found on the streets of Ethiopia. They are all painted red and white and have either a cross or a crescent to tell you whether it is a Christian butcher or a Muslim butcher. For the most part, Ethiopians are either Muslims or Orthodox Christians. Mosques and churches are everywhere and there are almost constant calls to worship (or so it seems, at least, at 5am!) issuing forth from one or the other.

Ethiopia is unlike anywhere else. They are even on a different calendar. In Ethiopia, this year is in fact 2000 and the evidence of the new millenium, in the form of lights, streamers, and signs, is everywhere. In Ethiopia time is also told differently -- our 6 am is their 12 pm.

Ethiopia was interesting because while on the one hand it was sensory overload - colorful clothes and headscarves, intense smells, people everywhere, and crazy energy, there were many striking things about Ethiopia that just jumped out at us.

Everyone sits at streetside cafes and drinks coffee. Our favorites were the beautiful and tiny macchiatos. Every young man seems to play street foosball (no joke, foosball tables wherever you look). The fresh juice is like nowhere else and delicious. The streets are full of goats and donkeys. The paper currency is incredibly worn out. The electricity was working about half the time. The roads in the capital city abruptly changed from paved to dirt and throughout the areas we traveled most of the roads were under construction (apparently by Chinese companies). Also, more people asked things of us here than anywhere else - be it help getting to the United States, money, or the shirts off our backs. Part of the reason for this, and for the electricity being in and out, is that Ethiopia is in the middle of a drought. Nearly every river we passed was dry. Our ultimate impression of Ethiopia, however, was that the people are incredibly, incredibly kind and friendly.

In Ethiopia, they eat a bread called injera 3 times a day. Here we are at the Hope Feeding Center folding stacks upon stacks on injera.

We visited ALERT Hospital where people who have recovered from leprosy are hard at work making and selling Ethiopian handicrafts. Tessa is trying, and failing, to spin cotton.

We had great luck randomly meeting college students who showed us around their respective cities and taught us a lot about modern Ethiopian culture. We met Tilahun in Addis and he actually taught us a lot about Ethiopian history. He took us to a cultural museum and then showed us the traditional religious art he makes and sells at the Merkato, arguably Africa's largest market. One of our favorite pieces is of the Last Supper where everyone is dressed in traditional Ethiopian clothing and eating injera.

In Bahir Dar, we were walking down the street trying to find a cultural show. We asked two strangers for directions and couldn't have had better luck. The two university students broke curfew to take us to the show and then, since they couldn't get back into their dorms, stayed with us at our hotel. The cultural show involved men playing guitar-like instrument and women doing traditional dancing (lots of isolated shoulder movements - really hard to do), while both performers did improv comedy/rhyming that essentially consisted of making fun of the audience. Alisa and I, being the foreigners, of course got the brunt of it. Thankfully, Bethlehem and Encozar could translate so we at least knew why people were laughing at us. For an example of the type of jokes: the jokes directed to other audience members often had to do with balding heads, and one of the ones that was directed to us had to do with Mike Tyson biting ears and how, at least, Ethiopians had not stooped to that level . . .

We also had the fortune to meet this wonderful Indian-Ethiopian family on the streets of Bahir Dar. Together we visited the waterfall where the Blue Nile starts (it joins the White Nile in Khartoum and becomes the NILE) and also visited the Orthodox Christian monasteries hidden among the islands of Lake Tana. This was the family's first trip on a boat and they put safety first. Rightly so.

A priest at one of the monasteries showing us reeeeaaaally old religious texts. Just look at the pages. It was old.

The juice! This particular concoction is layered with papaya, avocado, guava, and mango. Heaven in a glass mug.

Lalibela is a city named after the King Lalibela (born 1101 AD). In the center of town are 10 rock-hewn churches, which according to legend or fact (you decide) were built by the chisel and hammer of Lalibela himself (with the help of God and angels) over a period of 23 years. Some "historians" say 2,000 other people helped . . . but let's not quibble over the details. These churches are awesome. Every one is very different from the next and all are connected by underground tunnels. The art on the outside and the paintings on the inside are stunning. All done by Lalibela himself.

The churches are all still in active use. Here is an orthodox priest showing us two examples of the many ornate crosses found in Ethiopia.

Tessa and Alisa mastering the church drums.

At a rock-hewn church outside the city we attended a ceremony. We had to wake up at 4:30am so we could make the 7 km walk in time for the event. After a couple hours of chanting and reading of sacred texts, hundreds crowded into the small space to collect into their plastic water bottles the holy water that drips from the ceiling of the church. At the end we received a beautiful blessing in which the priest touched his palm to our foreheads and then to our lips. Another common blessing is the touching of the cross to the forehead and the lips.

To get back to Addis from Lalibela we had two back to back days of 12+ hour bus riding. And these aren't just any bus rides. These are rides in hot, hot weather, on gravel roads that are mostly under construction, and in crowded buses in which no one opens the windows. Thankfully we met lots of good people and, despite our protests, found every meal and, even hotel rooms, paid for. Here we are with three of our bus buddies: the driver, the farmer, and the hotel owner.

No bus ride is complete, or even satisfying, without a few breakdowns. Luckily we had plenty. Here's Alisa doing her part to entertain the passengers with magic while the flat tire is repaired. (We discovered, a little too late in fact, that many Ethiopians don't actually like magic much because they associate it with black magic and the end of the world . . . oops)

The incredible bus staff of 3 brothers that eventually got us all home safely! One of our favorite moments was at lunch when we asked the driver, "How's the drive?" His response: "Danger." Hmm . . . perfect . . . Some things you just got to write off to language barriers :)

Swaziland, Christian Terrett, and Clowns Without Borders: Just Another Week in the Life

2008-06-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

While traveling, one is confronted with constant decisions. Should we stay in this town or move on? Should we sleep at this hostel or that one? Do we dare enter this souvenir shop? And the decisions can be stressful, but more often than not, the stars just seem to align and the decision makes itself. And so when we found ourselves in a hectic bus station, throwing our backpacks into the open trailer, and boarding a minibus to Swaziland with Christian Terrett and Nozizwe, there were no decisions involved. It was simply what had to be done and we were doing it.

For those of you not so lucky to know Christian Terrett, he is a long time friend of ours from Eugene who just happened to be in South Africa at the same time as us, and just happened to have free time exactly when we had the opportunity to go to Swaziland. You can check out the wonderful tales of Christian's travels at http://yankeeshoes.blogspot.com.

You might remember Nozizwe from Cape Town. She is one of the incredible film makers working on The Commandments project. Nozizwe is from Swaziland and all we knew was that we were going to her home. She thought the rest should be a surprise.

We discovered immediately that Nozizwe is not from a typical home. She grew up on the mission of an Italian priest who has dedicated his life to the disabled children of Swaziland. Traditionally, disabled children in Swaziland are abandoned or worse. When the priest arrived as a young man, Nozizwe's mother, then a small girl disabled by polio, was the first child he saved from the streets. Since then the mission has expanded into a boarding school and vocational training program that serves hundreds of children and adults every year. Nozizwe's mother is now the school's principal.

One day we visited a preschool for children affected by HIV/AIDS that is supported by the mission.
Lots of holding hands and duck,duck, goose.

And we taught them about important American traditions like the chicken dance.

The four of us eating delicious Swaziland-roasted corn.

Did you know there was such thing as Clowns Without Borders? Well, there is, and they are hard at work educated the youth of the world about HIV/AIDS through clowning. When he's not making balloon animals, this Clown Without a Border looks after the boys of the mission's boarding school.

This mission is so amazing that they make their own eyeglasses at their own lab. (Former students, now in the vocational programs, also make all the school uniforms, all of the furniture, and even transcribe text books into brail for the blind students) Here we are trying on some of the fine products. Alisa just made a really clever joke that only smart people understand.

Back in Durban, Alisa insisted on buying an ice cream topped donut (which Tessa had to eat), so that she could get the free drinking straw eyeglasses that came with it.

And the people just can't resist.

In another really good purchase, we bought matching vests with pointy hoods.

Durban: Where the Collier Family Resides

2008-06-20T09:31:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Durban with absolutely no plan. Just a contact number. We called our contacts and they came to pick us up. Within moments of meeting them, we could tell that we were in for a treat. Tracey and Alec can (and do) do it all...and they let us join in for the fun!

We toured around Durban- visited the beautiful kloofs (little canyons), walked along the boardwalk, and viewed the largest mosque in the Southern hemisphere (according to Durbanites-I think this word might be my own creation).

We then spent a day with the local Lion's Club- Tracey and Alec are active members- cleaning up the river. Tessa and I started with high spirits, but ended (as you can tell) a little discouraged. There really is a lot of trash in our rivers these days. This leads me to think that we need a revival of the Litter Bugs Me Club (the membership requirements are quite easy: Pick up a piece of litter a day. If you forget to pick up one day, just pick up two another day. If you remember to pick up litter one day, the odds are another member may forget....so still try and pick up two, three, or four pieces of litter a day!)

Our host brother, Aidan, is the lead singer of a hard-core Christian rock band, The Rising End. We spent our Saturday night at his concert, amidst all of the moshers. Truly, this scene is WILD! I do not know what all of his fans will do when he moves to Canada to study...

Family photo. Richard (the German foreign exchange student), Alisa, Tracey, Alec, Aidan, and Tessa. We took a family road trip through South Africa to the game reserve, where we were able to spot everything from cheetahs to giraffes, wildabeasts, rhinos, hippos, and zebras!

I guess you are not allowed to do this...

Notice how Tessa framed this giraffe. She really has become an excellent photographer.

While we were in Durban, we were fortunate enough to stay with one of Tracey's friends, Mahkosi, in a Luganda township outside of Durban.

While in Luganda, we ate some of the largest meals I have ever ate in my life. Truthfully, we would receive a plate stacked 8 inches high, full of ox liver, potatoes, spinach, and cauliflower. After the meal, we would watch South African soap operas and a dance show. When we were lucky, the family would dance along.

We decided to visit the sangoma, a traditional healer. Tessa met with the sangoma in her private hut. This was where she learned that she will die of a heart attack.

During the days, while Mahkosi was at work, we decided that we should work as well. We were directed to a Kreche (preschool) that was housed in an orphanage.

Day 1. We spent the whole day playing London Bridge is Falling Down, teaching children the chicken dance, and making them do push-ups and jumping jacks (to tire them out). This is them at nap time.

Day 2. Twenty minutes into our time there, the teacher says that she has a meeting and asks if we can manage the kids for the day. Of course...I cannot think of one reason why that would be a less than brilliant idea. Through the course of the day, one boy pooped his pants, Tessa was peed on, children waged war while pinning us to the ground, and at one point we noticed one of the kids running away on the street outside of the gated compound. No worries, I am sure little kids are always running on the streets with no adult supervision...

This kid loved Tessa.

And yogurt.

We finished our time in Durban with a trivia night with the Lion's Club. What more could we ask for?

Johannesburg//Jo'burg/JHB/Jozi...

2008-06-10T06:34:00.000-07:00

Don't worry girls, I'll take care of this one.

Do you know the Dervish-whirling, magic-tricking, bungee-jumping, question-asking, no-prisoner-taking, shark-dragging, shoe-losing wonders that are Tessa and Alisa?
I do.
What to do when encountering one, or both, of these unique creatures: First, stay calm. Second, make them show you a traveler's trick and third, answer all their questions - it's usually in your best interests.

This photograph is evidence in order to eliminate any doubt as to whether or not the girls actually were in Africa. I had to work for a few hours on a Sunday and so I decided to leave the girls to their own devices at the Rosebank Flea Market. When I returned they were not ready to leave. One hour later, they still were not ready to leave. Concerned, I decided to try to find them. Walking through the market I wondered what they could possibly still be doing, with stalls everywhere closing up for the day.
I happened upon the young lasses assisting a Sudanese jewelry seller with packing away all of his hundreds of sets of earrings into tiny little plastic bags. In the midst of our Xenophobic crisis we had foreign foreigners helping local foreigners. It's complicated... we know.

This was another result of the Flea Market Quest. Here you will witness true use of mind power.

Did you ever find yourself wondering how they get by, traveling the world with but one pair of sandals? What, pray tell, do they do about cold feet ?(the literal kind). Well here it is.
Now you know.

So well behaved. This image is for the viewing pleasure of nervous parents, worried aunts and other concerned individuals who suffer from constant visual flashes of their darlings jumping off bridges, taking unreliable cross-country taxi rides and other death-defying stunts.
When in doubt, come back to this photograph. Breathe. Count to ten. Resume panic.

Medical experts finding a cure for cancer; Scientists formulating an AIDS vaccine; Environmentalists stumbling upon a simple solution for global warming could not understand the pure joy of the discovery of the juice goggles.

...too much?

A little melodrama never killed anyone.

...did it?

This is a tribute to aunt Judy!
Without whom we would never have met these edgy twirlers in the first place.
Or perhaps we would have... Who knows?
The world is getting smaller - and the truth is getting harder to tell.

With Love

Gilli

Three Countries in Under 36 Hours

2008-05-30T18:48:00.000-07:00

Time is flying by...since our last blog, we have stayed with a SERVAS host family in Durban, celebrated two Shabbat dinners with Gilli's family in Johannesburg, and ventured into Swaziland with Christian Terrett and Nozizwe. These stories will all make their way onto the blog...as for now though, we are heading off to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. That will mean that, in a period of 36 short hours, we will have been present (and active) in Swaziland, South Africa, and Ethiopia.

Statistics

2008-05-26T00:48:00.001-07:00

Inspired by Carolyn's organization, we tried to figure out a few more of our statistics.

The Places We Have Slept:

From January 16 to date, we have each spent the night in

4 different planes
5 different couches
8 different floors
8 different buses
41 different beds
2 different hammocks
1 car
1 train
1 gas station

The Mysterious Disappearances:

1 quick-dry towel
1 pair of chacos
1 pair of teva sandals
2 pairs of socks
1 camera
1 ISIC card
2 camera cases
1 water bottle
2 watches
1 pair of sunglasses
1 set of shampoo and conditioner
1 camera cord
2 jars of paint
1 set of bubbles

Takin' Care of Business

2008-05-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

We simply felt that there was not enough talk about peanut butter on this blog. Our peanut butter survey was not random. It was the product, and then catalyst, of hours of discussion. Many people ask Alisa and me if we ever fight. We do. About peanut butter.

So, way back in El Salvador we were asked to buy peanut butter for the sandwiches of the study abroad students. I picked out 3 creamy and 1 crunchy because, even though I believe crunchy to be the far superior of the two, I thought that the majority of people liked creamy. Alisa then made a bold claim. She told us that she was absolutely certain that most women liked creamy and that most men liked crunchy. She later tempered her prediction to a 60-40 split. She was convinced that 60% of women liked creamy and that 60% of men liked crunchy. I thought this was absurd and so we immediately began asking every person we met how they felt about this great life mystery.

We were both amazed by the results and also by all of the new questions the discussions raised.

It became immediately clear that the majority of men and women liked crunchy, not creamy, leaving Alisa and I both to question our previously understood realities. Alisa, a lover of creamy and a member of a family in which the women like creamy and the man likes crunchy, realized that she had always assumed that what she experienced was the same as what everyone else experienced. I realized that rather than place myself in the majority like Alisa, I liked to put myself in the place of the minority. I was happy to think of myself as one of the few who truly understood how good crunchy peanut butter was. I had to accept that I had been in the majority all along.

Those outside the gender binary was the only group to go for creamy. What could this possibly mean? Those outside the gender binary are by definition an ambiguous group from the start. And did people vote in this category because they personally identify outside the binary or because they believe their peanut butter preference to be non-gendered?

Further questions:
Is a person who likes creamy unwilling to eat crunchy, whereas a person who likes crunchy willing to eat either? Like with orange juice, the pulp person will swing both ways, but the no-pulp person is a purist.
Is peanut butter preference culturally specific? Is age a factor?
Are there trends with these groups? If presented with "left or right," "curvy or straight," and "wheat or white," will the crunchy person go for left, curvy, and wheat?

Feel free to weigh in . . .

Flashback to Cape Town

2008-05-20T05:40:00.000-07:00

We're going through and backing up our photos and discovered these oldies but goodies.
Camps Bay, Cape Town

Short story: Alisa lived in New Orleans and made a friend named Andrew. Andrew is living in London and we met him for a beer on our layover. He gave us the phone number of a South African friend, Dan, who he studied with at Cambridge. We met Dan and Dan's roommate Ari at a bar in Cape Town the first week we arrived. Four weeks later, while we were back in Cape Town, we went to lunch with one of the filmmakers that we met at Tessa's aunt's workshop. Her name is Gilli and she is from Johannesburg. She picked us up and started telling us how she had procured the car from a friend named Ari. Sure enough, it was the same Ari from the first week. Later that day we ended up at his house and strangled him. He is the kind of person who lends himself to being strangled.

Gilli got us on the Invite List to a Sneaker Party. Apparently sneaker culture is huge in the US. . .have you heard of it? Seriously, let us know.

One of our last days with Aunt Judy was spent going to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela and other anti-apartheid activists were incarcerated. On the way, we stopped to dance to street music.

On the boat to Robben Island.

It was windy.

Nelson Mandela's cell.

This is the limestone quarry in which the prisoners worked. The reflection of the limestone was extremely bright and the prisoners were not allowed to wear sunglasses. Now many of the former prisoners have permanent eye damage. The cave in the corner served both as the break room where they ate their lunch and the toilet. It became one of the places where the prisoners could organize and share stories about the struggle. This is part of the reason why Robben Island came to be known as the "university" of the struggle.

Bulungula - a little slice of paradise

2008-05-14T02:12:00.000-07:00

We're getting a bit out of date with the blog. Here are photos from the week before last. For this past week we have actually been in Durban and are now on our way to Johannesburg. We leave South Africa on May 31st and are starting to think ahead to our next stop, Ethiopia, so if anyone has any information, ideas, or connections, we would be forever grateful to you!

So after the bungee jumping, pool playing and gas station sleeping, we eventually made to a backpackers lodge called Bulungula. We took the bus as far as we could and then the lodge picked us up in a 4 by 4 to take us another 2 1/2 hours over the bumpiest road Carolyn, Alisa, and I had ever experienced.

This is actually a photo of a smooth part of the road, but it shows them changing a second flat tire due to the rough terrain. The ride through the countryside was made especially beautiful by the setting sun.

We arrived at Bulungula after dark, ate a wonderfully warm dinner, sat next to a fire in the candle light, and then went to sleep early in the little hut we would share for the next 7 nights. We woke up with the sun and opened our hut door to discover that the ocean was just in front of us. A glorious surprise.

Our hut was the fourth one in from the right.

The ocean at our doorstep.

The view from our door looking the other way.

Bulungula is a unique backpackers lodge because it is 40% owned by the local village, fair trade certified, and working toward eliminating the community's cycle of poverty. Many members of the village work for the lodge doing cleaning, maintenance, management, and cooking (delicious traditional meals!) and there are also a number of community members starting their own tourist businesses. These businesses, including horseback riding, canoeing, village tours, and massage, enable the tourist to explore the area and learn about Khosa culture.

The lodge is also unique because it runs almost entirely on solar and wind energy. After sunset they use candle light and they have organic composting toilets. The showers are called "rocket showers" and entail pouring paraffin into the base of the shower head and lighting it on fire. It roars and spurts flames!

We spent the week waking up with sun, going for long walks on the beach, and exploring the community through the various community-run tours.

One of the tours we did was called "Woman Power" and we spent a day learning some of the activities a typical local woman does in a day. Here is Alisa on her way to learn how to make the mud bricks for building houses. She had to smear wet cow dung over the bricks to help them solidify.

Our faces are covered with kolin, a naturally occurring clay, that is used as sunscreen.

The village has one single restaurant that they have set up for tourists. It is a one room hut with a set of shelves, a couple stoves, and a bench. We ate delicious crepes and then had a long walk home over the hills. We reached the ocean as the sun began to set. (Photo by Carolyn)

On our tour of the village, we met a lot of great people including this little girl who stood like a queen looking over her domain and would copy every face we made. On the tour we also learned that in order to build a new field you must give the chief a box of beer, wine, and one sheep. If you want to build a hut, you must give the headman (who is subordinate to the chief) a box of beer and wine (no sheep). (Photo by Carolyn)

We spent one afternoon canoeing! Carolyn (the only one with serious canoeing experience) took the canoe with the guide, leaving Alisa and Tessa to fend for themselves. This may surprise you, but we are not exactly the most proficient canoers. Despite our struggles to coordinate and inability to keep up with the other canoe, we couldn't help but feel at peace as we kept accidently hitting the shore of the mangrove-lined river.

It is typically the children's responsibility to keep the cows out of the fields and so the government built these fences so that the children could go to school. Unfortunately, it seems that school attendance is still low. The lodge's current project is to build a proper school building so that the children of the village can have quality teachers and materials. The current school operates in the shade of a tree.

We spent one day with the local herbalist learning about various roots, barks, and leaves. There were medical remedies for everything from an upset stomach to lack of breast milk to madness. There were also other types of potions for attracting lovers, making friends, and getting people out of jail. He told us sadly that he has no herb for curing AIDS (which affects a serious percentage of the community), but is hoping one will be found soon. And isn't his outfit awesome?

Alisa and Carolyn trying a root. Villagers use this as a way to stave off hunger.

This photo is pretty much self-explanatory . . .

Alisa was walking down the beach one morning and encountered a fisherman who had just caught a shark. He struggled to reel it in. He then unhooked it and left it on the beach to die. After about half an hour, the shark died. Alisa went over with the fisherman, Samuel, and slitted open the stomach of the shark. Samuel then ripped it open and grabbed out two huge clumps of fat lard for the dogs. As they explored the shark's carcass, Samuel remarked, "I think it might be pregnant. What a shame!" Alisa then ran up to the lodge and tried to recruit as many people as she could to go and see the shark. In this photo, Alisa is trying to engage some of the locals in shark games. Let's just say they weren't quite as enthused as Alisa. (We later found out that shark catching is actually quite common. Wa wa wa.)

Priceless. A musical adventure at Bulungula. On the right we have a little boy from the village playing sophisticated African beats. On the left we have a little boy from the United States making fart noises with his armpit.

Totally unrelated to Bulungula: the next World Cup. It will be held in South Africa in 2010 and they are EXCITED. We loved that this huge countdown sign had already started. Just 768 short days away.

The World's Highest Bungy Jump

2008-05-12T06:30:00.001-07:00

Special Addition:

Here are two more photos that Carolyn took and sent to us. The first was taken right after we jumped. You can't see it, but the bridge we jumped off of is in the blackness behind us. Just imagine how high it was . . . really high :) Carolyn took the second photo at the pool hall.

A week and a half ago we decided to take the Garden Route out of Cape Town and head toward one of the top-rated, most sustainable backpacking lodges in the world (the local community owns forty percent of the lodge, it is fair trade certified and complete with solar panels, composting toilets, wind power, lots of candle light, and paraffin rocket showers...you get the drift).

We met up with Tessa's friend from Thailand, Carolyn, and she, thankfully, organized our whole adventure together (this may have been the first time we actually had a plan and had purchased tickets more than a day in advance). We mentioned to Carolyn that we would love to try and hit up Storm's River, a hamlet boasting the highest bungy jumping bridge in the world, and so Carolyn booked our bus tickets in an effort to ensure that we would make it to the bungy jumping bridge before they closed. Our plan was to arrive at Storm's River around 3 pm, catch a ride to the bungy jumping bridge, jump, spend a partial night at the hostel, and then leave early in the morning so that we could catch our 3:45 am bus out of Storm's River.

As you might have been able to guess, our bus was running a bit late. We arrived in Storm's River at 4:10 pm (the bungy place closes at 5 pm and was a 35-40 min drive and we had no transportation!). I (Alisa) started running (which is rare; you can tell that I was desperate) frantically through the parking lot asking each and every car if they were driving near the bungy place and could drop us off. Everyone was so incredibly supportive but no one was driving in that direction (or had enough room for three of us and our massive backpacks). Right as a little red car offered to take me (alone due to lack of space), a woman named Michelle from Dijembe Backpacker's drove up. We hurled our backpacks into the back of the truck and took off toward Bloukran's Bungy. The clock was ticking. She was a mad driver, originally from Johannesburg and we made it to the jump site. We were the last group to suit up.

To get to the jumping off point we had to walk along narrow pathway suspended beneath the bridge. This in itself was already intimidating! Once to the jumping point, there was loud dance music blaring and lots of energy to get everyone pumped up. They strapped us in and didn't give any instructions besides stick your arms out and jump. Alisa screamed the entire time leading up to her jump and had to be pushed off the bridge. Tessa didn't decide to jump until on the platform and then decided and jumped 5 minutes later.

It was actually a very magical experience to be flying toward the earth seeing the world from an entirely new viewpoint. Absolutely surreal.

After the jump Tessa, Carolyn, and I decided (in an effort to save a few dollars) that it would be wise to camp out at the gas station. Our next bus was coming to pick us up at 4 am and we thought that it would be quite ludicrous to pay for a night's stay when you are really only staying there for a partial night (10 hours is nothing!). As we were waving goodbye to the bungy crew we mentioned that we were going to be staying at the gas station and that we were going to start a little party there...they told us that they might drop by.

We drove back into town with Michelle, from the backpacker's lodge. She asked if she could stop off at the backpacker's lodge to serve dinner. We gladly obliged and warmed ourselves up by the fire. Eventually Michelle motioned us to the truck and drove us back to our soon to be home.

Back at the gas station, we unloaded our backpacks and went to crash in what we thought was the all-nite fast food restaurant, Steers. Little did we know that they were actually closing at 10 pm! We started brainstorming our options. 1. Sleep on the cold benches outside 2. Try and bring our backpacks into the convenient store and nestle ourselves in a corner in there 3. Call the backpacker's and tell them that we really did need a room The cashier overheard our predicament and menioned that she would try and help us out. Eventually she ended up securing a place for us-the break/locker room of the gas attendants! Right as the clock struck 10 pm and we were being kicked out of Steers, Conden and Charles (two guys from the bungy jumping crew) arrived and offered to take us out to play pool.

As you may have been able to guess, we took them up on their offer and went to a local bar to play pool. The time flew by and we didnt return to the gas station until 2 am.

We then moved our backpacks into the gas attendant station's locker room and enjoyed an hour and a half of shut-eye.

Right above me, on the wall, a little wall posting reads: "The PATH to YOUR Future"...you decide!

Monkey Valley: Where Monkeys Don't Run Wild, But Filmmakers Do

2008-04-24T06:51:00.000-07:00

This past week has been absolutely phenomenal. Last Sunday, Aunt Judy arrived and whisked us away with her to a resort outside of Cape Town where she was teaching a workshop on directing actors. Eleven of South Africa's most promising filmmakers, as well as various people within the filming industry, descended upon a tiny resort. While the filmmakers were in their workshops, Tessa and I were able to lounge about the resort, take long strolls on the beach, practice our contact juggling and fire dancing skills, read and write, befriend the waiting staff, and just take time for some much needed rest and relaxation. This is the first time in our whole trip in which we did not have to worry (and by worry I mean plan) about anything, Aunt Judy took care of our EVERY need.

This was our first sundowner on the beach. Marten supplied the champagne and raspberries, as well as mango bits, springbok jerky, crackers, and cheese. As we sat on the beach together, watching the translucent (I love that word!) waves crashing ashore, we spotted a clan of dolphins and a group of seals (and I was just sharing how one of my hopes in life was to see dolphins in the ocean...what are the odds?). MAGICAL.
sunset

Here is Marten sitting in above Monkey Valley Resort, our home for the week. Whenever you thought the party was about to die, Marten would always come out of nowhere with two more bottles of wine. He also led us in late night singing sessions, much to the delight of the other guests.

Tessa summed up our days at Monkey Valley quite well: We eat and we sleep. We think and we write and we eat. We think and we drink and we eat and we talk. And then we sleep. What a beautiful way to live!

We also watched a lot of sunsets. Here is one of many, many sunset photos. We're pretty sure Cape Town wins thus far for most beautiful sunsets.

Alisa with some of the great Monkey Valley staff: Morne, Frankie, and Cedric. Apparently, Frankie and Cedric are both former models . . . we believe it! It turns out that Cape Town is one of the modeling capitals of the world and a lot of companies come here for their photo shoots. We have witnessed two modeling shoots on the street so far.

Yet another sundowner. This time with the entire crew. The film project they are working on is called The Commandments (based on The Dekalog by Kieslowski). Each director is creating a feature film or a 50 minute episode about one of the many issues facing modern South Africa. The films are set to come out in 2010.

Here I am with Nosizwe, an apiring 23 year old film maker (who has graciously offered to host us in her home in Swaziland). Every day Nosizwe, and the rest of the filmmakers, would work extensively with Aunt Judy (also known as Judith Weston, one of the most prominent teachers of directors...if anyone is involved in acting or directing they should read her book which, allegedly, is one of the most powerful books in the field, "Directing Actors"). By night, however, the filmmakers would need to unwind...so we might have joined them in this process. My favorite part of this night was when a round of tequila shots was first brought to the table. I squeezed Aunt Judy because I really cannot take a shot well. She offered to help me but, as she was doing so, was spotted by one of the other filmmakers. He then proceeded to get Aunt Judy a shot. One. Two. Three. We all took the shot and set down our glasses. I looked at Aunt Judy's and under a half millimeter had disappeared. I love it!

On Aunt Judy's day off we set out to explore the surrounding area. Marten loaned us his rental car and so Alisa got behind the wheel and, without any practice, drove for the first time on the left side of the road. (Marten assured us that he was FULLY insured.) Our first stop was more penguins!

Eventually we made it to Cape Point. We ate lunch at the base (a baboon ran across the canopy above us!) and then rode the funicular to the top. The Cape of Good Hope is in the background.

Antartica is just over the horizon.

As we were standing at the very top of Cape Point, looking out at the edge of the world, we saw in the distance a rainbow moving slowly toward us. It must be a good omen.

Driving from Cape Point to the Cape of Good Hope we encountered an entire troop of baboons just hanging out in the middle of the road. One came up to Aunt Judy's door and tried to break in. Being the intrepid travelers that we are, we thought ahead and had locked the door. Our intrepidness only goes so far, however. Rather than immediately whip out our cameras, we all screamed and pinned ourselves to the other side of the car . . . We saw ostriches, too!

The south-western most point of the African continent.

This was the view.

We felt so elated, we literally jumped for joy.

One of the other highlights of our Monkey Valley week was celebrating Alisa's 24th birthday.
Aunt Judy, Marten, and Jacky surprised me with an outstanding birthday dinner (complete with an abundance of champagne, wine, and rich chocolate cake). I think I was in a state of bliss (you might not be able to tell from the photo).

As soon as everyone got their slice of cake, Alisa told us that we were not allowed to use cutlery. Penny, our wonderful waitress, immediately took this to heart and snatched everyone's forks.

Here's everyone! Thanks so much for an incredible week.

Cape Town

2008-04-21T05:27:00.000-07:00

Here we are hanging out in Obs with our new incredible friend Agnes! Agnes moved to Cape Town just two days after us and immediately invited us over for coffee. Within a day, we moved in with her.

We decided we ought to hike up Table Mountain. Luckily we read a couple minutes before leaving that people often die climbing . . . so we decided we ought to bring a little water.

Intimidated by hiking? Us? Never. We live for the challenge.

Two and a half hours later, we had finally dragged ourselves to the top. (The family of 6 that arrived just after us was heard shouting, "Well done, kids! We did it in one hour and fifteen minutes!" . . . they must have known a shortcut.)

The next day we were invited to hike up Lion's Head. Sore from our previous hike, we were promised that this one would be much easier. We soon discovered, however, that this hike involved hoisting ourselves up the rock face with chains.

But the views were totally worth it.

This is us on top of Lion's Head with Table Mountain in the background.

Later that night we had a dance party. This guy was a professional dancer in Germany for four years. He taught us everything he knows. We also have an awesome video of Alisa and our French friend, Thomas, doing a crazy dance called "The Tectonic" but apparently it's near impossible to upload videos in South Africa. So once we leave South Africa we'll try to remember or someone can remind us.

We rode the train along the coast to Simon's Town with Paul and April and saw loads of penguins. (You've seen these two before . . . 10 points to those who know where . . .)

P.S.

Good birthday surprises take time...

2008-04-12T07:21:00.000-07:00

And you thought we forgot about you...truly, we were busy trying to collect the most eclectic photos we could. Cape Town really loves you!

We Live for Layovers

2008-04-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

A long overdue update and we're still way behind. We have been in Cape Town, South Africa for 6 days now and are doing great, but before we get into that, we gotta talk about London.

Last week, en route from El Salvador to Cape Town, we had a three day layover in London. We were really worried about what we would do for three days given the ridiculous strength of the pound, but it ended up being incredibly fun. Thanks goes entirely to our fabulous hosts, Kate and Sara. We arrived at their flat to find couches already made into beds, a stack of reading materials, adaptors, maps, and even two ciders with our names on them (literally) in the fridge waiting for us. They also let us use all their clothes and makeup so we could feel a little bit more like Londoners and a little less like backpacking slobs.

Kate's boyfriend, Laurens, is a film student working as director of photography on his final film and so we got to be extras! We played Mourner #1, Mourner #2, Mourner #3, and Mourner #4. The film is a dark comedy about a funeral director. Hopefully we'll be able to post a link to it when it's finished!

Kate gave us a map and a route and we set off on the tube to explore the city. We especially loved getting up close and personal to the masterpieces at the National Gallery and the Tate Modern.

London has great street performers and we felt very encouraged in our goal to become street performers ourselves. Next time we're in London . . .

Celebrating the film crew's final day of shooting!

This next part is very important and very serious.

We know that there are some of you out there who have been staring at a computer screen for a long time now. There are also probably a lot of you who are sitting behind a desk at work pretending to do something important. When the boss walks by, you rapidly switch your screen to a spreadsheet, but in actuality you're bored to death and are spending your whole day reading this blog and cuteoverload.com.

We have the remedy and this is the important part.

Pick up the nearest black pen (blue works okay, too), take the inside of your pointer finger, and draw a moustache. Don't think, just do it. Now, put that finger underneath your nose. And don't take it down until you've gotten at least three people to join you.

SEND US YOUR FINGERSTACHE PHOTOS!!!

As we left at 6am Sunday morning to walk to the underground to catch the train to Heathrow, it began to snow . . . The perfect way to end a magical three days in London.

Love 'em and leave 'em

2008-03-31T14:14:00.000-07:00

After 2 1/2 beautiful weeks in El Salvador, Alisa and I are once again packing up and moving on. El Salvador concluded our time in Latin America, roughly the first third of our journey. Latin America treated us really well. We will dearly miss chocobananos, pupusas, hojaldre, acai bowls, tutu faijao, juicy mangoes, freshly slaughtered chicken meat, freshly squeezed orange juice, and churros. The people were alright, too . . .

All of Tessa's stuff:
Before.

After.

See you on the next continent!

San Salvador People

2008-03-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

Friday night in San Salvador's bohemian district. The place was packed and there was not a soul in the bar who was not standing on their chair pumping their fist vigorously to the beat of the nonstop rock music. Every single person also seemed to know every single word to every single song.

Handmade ice cream in the city with Alisa's Casa housemates, Tedde and Rochelle.

We have been so lucky to spend the last couple weeks with the students of the Casa program. They are incredibly full of life and energy. To every one of you crazy souls: you are all hilarious, we will miss you, and we hope to find you in some other part of the world sometime soon.

We decided to have a romantic last supper with our hosts at Casa Clara. We had to improvise - Alisa mixed and baked brownies in a sauce pan.

Our candle lit dinner for six.

Alisa reunited with her Casa mates at the anniversary of Monsenor Oscar Romero's death.

We can always count on Celine

2008-03-31T10:44:00.000-07:00

Last week we had the wonderful opportunity to visit a family Alisa lived with for a week when she studied abroad in El Salvador nearly 4 years ago. Getting to their home required two buses of about two hours each and then a two hour hike into the mountains. By the time we reached their house, we were technically in Honduras. 30 years ago the community consisted of 72 families. During the war, the region was perceived to be a hotspot for guerrilla organizing. The military-controlled Salvadoran government responded with a myriad of abuses including the fire bombing of all the homes in the community. One grandmother recalls the road into their community, the same one we walked up, being lined with fetuses and decapitated heads on stakes. For this reason the great majority of the community fled to Honduras and tried to gain refugee status. Today, only 13 families have returned and rebuilt their homes. These 13 families are in fact one large extended family (the occasional soccer tournaments with neighboring villages are the places in which many young people meet their future spouses).

The father, Roque, is not pictured because he is currently living in Virginia working to support his immediate and extended family. Immigration to the United States is endemic throughout El Salvador and we learned that 20% of the national GDP comes from remittances. A coyote to get you across the border costs between $3,000 and $7,000 and their is no guarantee that you will get across. The "death train" the immigrants ride results in injury and death, and Salvadorans plan on being robbed six times during their ride.

On our first bus we sat with this kind gentleman. He was a talker. We probably only understood 20% of what he said but he did manage to communicate that he had a heart condition. Later on he pulled out his "medicine" (a small bottle of alcohol in his pants) and downed a few doses.

On Tuesday morning Deysi told us she was going to kill a chicken for our lunch.

She tied the feet together, hung it upside down, and then spent about two minutes sawing through his neck with a dull knife. The drama of the rooster's slow and bloody death was perfectly captured by Celine Dion's thunderous voice singing "My Heart Will Go On" in the background. After five minutes of watching the chicken bleed, Merlin, the youngest son, began sling-shotting it with rocks.

Ready to become chicken soup!

The soup was delicious. We hope that his chicken had a good life and knows how much we appreciated him in his afterlife.

The community has its own little mill to mill their homegrown corn. The families are farmers but they don't have enough yield to sell their produce for profit. The lack of ways to make an income is part of the reason members of the community are forced to move away in search of work.

The milled corn is used to make tortillas, an important component to every Salvadoran meal. We worked hard to improve our tortillaring skills and decided to have a contest for the fastest and best tortilla maker. The competitors were Alisa, Tessa, the twin daughters, the mother, and the grandmother. As soon as the grandmother said she was competing, the twins said "oh nooo," with serious looks of discouragement. Their was no contest that the grandmother, Olimpia, was the clear winner. Her tortilla was on the grill almost before Alisa and Tessa had even picked up their corn flour.

In the afternoon Tessa taught the kids how to make paper cranes.

Later that evening we made more cranes and other paper crafts.

Olimpia asked that we make large cranes to decorate their church for the upcoming anniversary of Monsenor Oscar Romero's death.

One day we went to school with the kids hoping to learn a little since it had been a few months since our last class. We taught a little english and, of course, participated in all the recess games. One of the games was a series of one-on-one jigsaw puzzle competitions. Each person got one of two 24 piece puzzles and raced to finish it first. Tessa accidentally beat every one of the eight children . . .

This village was full of really beautiful people.

Awkward with Animals and The Search for Don Chilo

2008-03-31T10:31:00.000-07:00

We left for Canton Las Delicias, a small community outside of San Salvador, hoping to reconnect with many of the community members, have some time out in the countryside, and, most of all, learn how to cook (Mima, our host mother, promised to give us detailed instruction in the course of our stay there). Chickens in hand, we boarded the bus and set off.
As you can tell by the photos, they really trusted us with the bulk of the work.
With time, however, they allowed us to partake in tortillaring (the art of making tortillas). While we were quite proud of our work they, apparently, were not. All of our tortillas were placed on a "special" plate that we were told to eat. Oh well...
The fruits of our labor. DELICIOSA!

After lunch we decided to take a moments rest...some might even be tempted to call it a dog day afternoon. Eventually, however, we rallied and decided to visit our friends in the community: Isabel, Sister Alisia, and Don Chilo. We heard that a loved one in Don Chilo's family had passed away, so we put that visit as a priority and began our pursuit for Don Chilo (an animated storyteller who, years before when I lived in El Salvador, would always pick up Patricio and I and haul us around town). Mima, our trusted guide and cooking teacher, promised us that we would find him.

On our way to find Don Chilo, we stopped by Isabel's house. Tessa, with her bird fascination, kept us fairly entertained at this home. (Tessa had no clue that I was taking this photo).
I wouldn't say that I am a bird fan, by any means, but I did feel like I needed to reach out and engage...
Our next stop was at Hermana Alisia's house. Hermana Alisia is one fire ball of great grandmother. We shared our special magic trick with her (the stick straight hair one) and she tried to replicate it on her own hair (which is a total of four inches long). She then proceeded to force all of her grandchildren into embracing the hairstyle-only one complied.
We then walked to Don Chilo's house, and waited for his arrival. Apparently someone in the family had just passed away, so there was a small church service in the home. We sat down in their living room and participated in the ceremony. All of our friends from the journey waited with us, anticipating the arrival of our close friend Don Chilo. We all talked about what a great man he is and how excited I was to see him again. An hour and a half later, he arrived. As his truck drove up, Mima beckoned me forward, "there he is!" Much to my surprise, this was a different Don Chilo. The proceeding conversation was a bit awkward, because I had to pretend like I knew him well (I didn't want to disappoint all of our friends who had accompanied us on the journey by telling them that this Don Chilo was not, indeed, the Don Chilo that I knew and in turn make them look for another Don Chilo). We returned back to the house and were surprised to find our next door neighbor, Lilian, laughing hysterically...our hair do caught on!

Adventures with Ashlee and Anne. This one's for Janet.

2008-03-21T00:08:00.001-07:00

Meet Ashlee and Anne. They came all the way from San Diego to spend their spring break exploring El Salvador with us. The week also happened to be Semana Santa, a very holy week (and week of vacation!) for Salvadorans leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The week was full of pupusas, sisterly love, and ridiculous bus rides.

An exhausting night. Also known as the origin of the Barter Babezzzzz.

We visited a family Alisa lived with three years ago. The mother, Mima, served us up a delicious lunch and brought out special plates that they save just for the "gringos" or foreigners (the plates are pictured above!).

Pinaterias (stores dedicated to pinatas and other important treasures in life), we decided, should be universal. Not only can you find a varied assortment of every pinata imaginable, they also sell dyed, hollowed out eggs filled with little confetti pieces-perfect for smashing on one another's heads.

We asked the locals how to get to the waterfalls....they told us to pay a dollar and take a taxi. We, however, decided that it would be wiser (and more cost efficient) to walk the path...and so we did.

A few falls later, and we were covered head to toe.

Tessa had the brilliant idea of asking children to join us for a photo shoot. As you can tell, it was their idea to turn the photo shoot into a dance party. You could not keep these kids from dancing, even if you tried.

Chicharras. An excellent source of protein.

Our fascination with chicharras held strong. Mostly we would play with the dead ones (and by play I mean that the kids would throw them directly at Alisa and Tessa). Every once in a while, though, one of the kids would find a live one, hold it by the tail and then throw it as high as he or she possibly could. Moments later, during the chicharra's plummet back down to the earth, the chicharra would frantically flap its' wings, hoping to fly back up and away. We felt like we were in a Harry Potter movie.

Anne, Ashlee, and Alisa aimlessly roaming the streets of Antiguo, Cuscatlan.

Another fashion show. This time Clara Villatoro, journalist and animated storyteller, decided to participate. Eventually we ended up engaging Flor, as well.

The peaceful ride back to our home in the capital. Ashlee and Anne, come visit us again soon.

Una sorpreza para mi, una sorpreza para ti

2008-03-20T23:36:00.001-07:00

Alisa and I endured all the horrendous bus rides for one reason, and one reason only. We had to be in El Salvador by March 14 or bust. March 14 became D-Day because it was the day Alisa's sister Ashlee and friend, Anne would arrive from San Diego and it was also the day before Stephanie Edwards returned to the United States. We knew that all the cosmos would align this night or not at all. Thankfully a 5am, 12+ hour bus ride from Managua brought us to our destination by 6pm.

Anxious to reach San Salvador, and forced to sit through terrible movies like the Airbud spin-off, SnowBuddies, and that football movie with The Rock (for the second time! Seriously?), Alisa and I did all we could to stem boredom. For a long time we re-rolled toilet paper into smaller rolls, debated which puppy imprint on the toilet paper was our favorite and why, and tried to use the squares to make paper cranes. Eventually, however, our boredom culminated in an exquisite floss-strung, scrap paper "Surprise/Welcome" sign.

We happened to have told Steph that we wouldn't make to San Salvador by the time she left and so we stealthily awaited her arrival at the Casa . . . this was also our reunion at long last with Emory and Megan . . .

SURPRISE!!!

In the ensuing mayhem there were screams, laughter, and even tears. We decided we ought to surprise people more often.We then picked up Ashlee and Anne from airport (who amazingly made it here despite losing Anne's passport in the San Diego airport 15 minutes before their flight's departure . . . luckily they found it on the ground next to a trash can . . .). The glorious evening culminated in a crazy dance party with the Casa students.

Long lost loves. It feels like home.

Santa Clara in El Salvador. Annie Rovzar, we like your moves.

Saying goodbye to Stephanie at Jugolandia. We are sad to lose her, but Boston University could not be luckier.

We're explosive

2008-03-19T22:42:00.000-07:00

We are staying in a house now that is temporarily without water. There are many problems that come along with this (no showers, washing dishes, etc.), but the biggest problem by far is not being able to flush the toilet. We have learned the hard way that lack of a flushing toilet and lack of control over explosive bowel movements is not a pleasant combination. I think this brings the number of times Alisa has clogged a toilet with her diarrhea up to 3 . . . we'll keep you updated as these stats change.

P.S. We are in El Salvador now (!!!) and will be posting photos and such soon.

We do what we can.

2008-03-18T23:37:00.000-07:00

After our difficult bus ride to Waslala, we decided to pay a few extra bucks for the "Express" on the way back. The so-called "Express" failed to live up to it's name. Just like the other bus, it was overflowing with people and broke down over and over again. Alisa and Tessa took advantage of these break downs in the best way possible. We bought candy. We're good backpackers like that.

In Managua, we had the less than desirable disappearance of Alisa's camera. Unfortunately, this event also left us with but a few cordobas to our name. We used every last cent to buy two cans of beer and one dinner to share. It was worth every penny.

Master Bloggers

2008-03-18T23:01:00.001-07:00

We know that there are some people who have tried to comment and have not been able to...we just changed our settings and you should be able to comment freely and frequently from now on. Sorry for not fixing that earlier. You mean a lot to us.

Beautiful Mountains, Smiling Children, and Skinned Cats. That's Waslala.

2008-03-18T21:57:00.000-07:00

Last week we spent three glorious days in Waslala, Nicaragua, a beautiful town in the mountains of northern Nicaragua. Unfortunately, shortly after this trip, Alisa's camera, and the vast majority of our photos from these days and our time in San Jose, Costa Rica, were disappeared. A huge disappointment but also an inevitable event . . . sometimes life happens and things get disappeared . . . we move on. So these are the few photos we have to show.

In Waslala, we stayed with an incredible family and met loads of entertaining and generous people, none of whom we have photos of. So, just close your eyes and imagine. Take a few deep breaths. Let the stresses of life fall away. You deserve this moment. We live overstimulated lives, anyway. We're sure that your incredible, individual creativity can do much better than our photos.

Nonetheless, here are some vignettes:

Vomit.
The bus ride to Waslala was absolutely brutal. 5 1/2 hours on incredibly twisty, bumpy roads with no bathroom or food stops. The bus was packed full of women, men, children, chickens, and all of their belongings. The smell of vomit filled the air and the sight of it covered the floor.

Searching.
We finally arrived in Waslala with no clue as to what we should do next. We knew that our friend Meaghan had a friend Virginia who we should find. We walked up and down the main street asking people if they knew "Virginia." Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, depending on your perspective), no one knew her. Luckily, a very old man who we could barely understand took us under his wing and led us to the radio station. Just as he was about to get on the radio and send a call to action to the entire town, a young man announced that he knew Virginia. Apparently she worked just 20 feet away, across the street. Long story short, Virginia housed us for the next two nights (even though the electricity was out!), took us to work with her (she is a public health worker who worked for Red Cross during the war), and shared her huge extended family with us.

Ancianos.
As shown above, a lot of our experience of Waslala was defined by following people. In fact, that is indicative of our trip in general. We typically have no idea what is going on and simply follow the person who looks like they might know more than us.
One afternoon we visited the local parish run by two Brazilian priests. One of the priests, Father Danilo, said, "Vamos," and we followed him outside. He motioned to a big blue pick-up. Not sure what to do, we crammed out two bodies into the seat that was clearly meant for one. We drove off with no idea where we were going. Eventually we slowed and stopped in front of a small, light blue building. Above the door was painted, "Hogar de Los Ancianos" (literally, "Home of the Ancients"). We walked in and were led to a square room.
The only light came from the door at the far end, through which you could see a couple cows plodding down a hill. In the dim light you could see that every wall was painted bright green. In the room were 6 cots, each containing a very elderly person and all of their belongings. We began sitting and chatting with each one. Although, chatting is probably a misnomer since it was a definite struggle for us to understand them and for them to understand us. But we all enjoyed talking whether or not anyone could understand what the other was saying. Alisa and I rambled on about whatever we could think of . . . where we were from, what we did that day, food we liked, etc. We discovered that many of the people were there because they had no other family left.
Eventually, Alisa and I began running out of conversation topics. At one point Alisa said to the blind woman she was sitting with, "This room is really beautiful. It's so . . . green." The woman smiled and nodded in agreement. There was one woman who, throughout, had been rocking and moaning in the corner. Inspired by her music, and having no other idea of what to do, we decided to sing for them. So, in our awful voices, we attempted to sing "This Little Light of Mine." Amazingly, the men and women began joining in. They knew none of the words, let alone the language we were singing in, but they joined in gusto, singing their own language, rocking, and ringing their hands. The woman in the corner shrieked with delight. We sang a few more songs before we had to leave. It was a beautiful moment and we were very sad to go.

Beautiful mountains and village roads

Smiling children who climbed trees and picked us fresh fruit

Colorful trucks overflowing with people

Skinned cats. Wearing hats. In the Catholic parish. Enough said.

The Colombian Photographers/Computer Extraordinnaires

2008-03-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

Follow up to the survey

2008-03-09T19:15:00.000-07:00

So, we of course tried both giving money to the taxi driver and leaving it at the hostel. We decided to leave it at the hostel because the money from the cabbie was never delivered. We felt very discouraged but were determined it would work to leave it at the hostel. Our friend went to pick up the money but they staff said it was never delivered. After we assured him in an email that we did indeed drop it off, he went back and after a lot of arguing, the staff eventually handed over the money.

We also found out later the cab driver did in fact drop off the money, just later than he said he would.

All in all, we should have remembered to pay him back in the first place, but we thought it was interesting that both methods did work, just not in the way we hoped.

Also, we are hoping to do a month or so of volunteer work in southern Africa in April/May and would love any ideas/contacts/resources that you might have. (Katy, we are eagerly awaiting more info from you!) Our main interest is to stay in one community for a longer period of time and get to know people and their culture.

Nicaragua: A Breath of Country Air

2008-03-09T19:09:00.000-07:00

We just arrived into Matagalpa, Nicaragua and are feeling great. We dragged ourselves out of bed at 5am so we could catch a 6am bus to Managua, Nicaragua. We thought it would take all day to get there but we arrived at 2:30pm and so went ahead and caught another bus to Matagalpa. The 2 1/2 hour drive took us through lots of beautiful countryside and the mix of sun and rain produced an incredible rainbow. One end of the rainbow was just a few meters off the road and seemed to follow us as we drove.

We are on our way to Waslala, a small town Tessa`s friend Meaghan lived in over the summer. It already feels like a wonderful change of pace to be away from the big cities and the tourist scene, and we can`t wait to be even more remote for a few days.

Life gives you surprises, and surprises give you life

2008-03-08T17:28:00.000-08:00

Quite a few people have told us to skip over San Jose, Costa Rica. We are so thankful that we did not take their advice.

After settling down and grabbing a bite to eat we decided to find an Internet Cafe. We planned to do some heavy duty work: Tessa was going to transfer all of her photos to a zip drive and we were going to strategize as to our next move. An hour and a half into the night, however, we realized that this plan was not working out: her photos and videos were not transfering quite as smoothly as we had imagined. Luckily, we were in the company of three amiable, and extremely passionate, Colombian computer animation specialists and we were able to enlist their support. Even with their assistance, the photo project was still quite an undertaking. Eventually, one of the Colombians and Alisa decided to make a quick run to the nearby grocery store to get a few treats. We knew that we were now in for the long haul.

While the photos were transfering we continued to chat. Soon our friends were pulling out their guitars, harmonicas, and boasting their deep-throated singing voices. We sang to the likes of Johnny Cash, Louis Armstrong, Buddy Guy, and various well-known Spanish artists (like Mana and Juanes). At one point, Andres, an up-and -international photographer, looks at us and asks if he can photograph us. Tessa and I look at each other, bewildered...I don´t think we are quite the modeling types. Nevertheless, we oblige and moments later bright lights are flashing in our faces. We are told to be serious. Look at the camera. Face this way and that. Alex came to hold our hands for moral support.

The rest is history. We will let the pictures speak for themselves (hint: there was a lot of professional editing involved).

Juan David, Andres, and Alex, we are eternally grateful.

Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica...where double dipping thrives

2008-03-08T16:26:00.000-08:00

Our time in Puerto Viejo, a small town on the Caribbean side of Costa Rica, was quite pleasant. Our days were filled with bike rides to pristine beaches, short hikes through tropical paradises, juicy mangos, and some much deserved rest and relaxation. We spent the nights around a camp fire singing Spanish revolutionary songs and fell asleep on hammocks, listening to the waves roll onto the beach.

We walked through Cahuita National Park and got to view, up close and personal, two different tribes of monkeys. Two of the monkeys decided to take a bathroom break while they were above us. That spray, however, was of no concern- we quickly went to swim in the ocean.

On our way back from the park, we accidentally hopped on the wrong bus. Once we discovered our mistake, we jumped off and decided that we might as well try and hitch hike back. Within five minutes, a little fisherman and his crew picked us up and put us in the back of his truck.

Our last night in Puerto Viejo we met this crazy man. He is a famous gambler who just moved down the day before to retire. We decided to celebrate: mango margaritas, dancing on the street in the company of a fire dancer, and singing songs beside the bonfire....this man never failed to keep us entertained.

Our point of departure...

On Friday, we decided to leave Puerto Viejo. We went to purchase our bus tickets and discovered that there were no more seats on the bus. No worries, we immediately headed to the nearby, homemade dessert parlor that served Amish-prepared natural ice cream and organic coffee and cappucino drinks. (Every time we visited this place we tried to sample as many flavors as possible- and we were quite successful in this endeavor. Our ice cream parlor server would allow us to sample all the flavors we desired, but made sure that we used the same spoon throughout all of the sampling. We attribute this practice to Costa Rica´s strong commitment to conservation work).

We regrouped there for a while and eventually decided that we should attempt to hitch the 5 1/2 hour ride to San Jose, Costa Rica (this was against the advice of our ice cream server who guaranteed that we would never be able to get a ride out of her town).

It was at this point that we walked to the street and held up our sign: ¨Limon or San Jose.¨ We are pretty sure that the first car that drove by desparately wanted to take us to our destination but that they were just not able to...for that reason they honked, to show their full support of our venture. And for that, we were grateful and even more optimistic.

Within the next fifteen seconds a man in a little red car drives up and offers to take us in the direction we need to go.

This man, Mr. Ronig, has a wonderful story. He was in Puerto Viejo to finish writing his second children`s book. His first is called Hannah KaReese and the Island of Moorea (check it out and let us know how it is!). He started writing books for young people because he noticed that all the books his 9 year old daughter read starred boys. He wanted his daughter, and all other girls, to be able to read books with strong female characters.

We had wonderful conversations in the car and he shared stories about his work in the army (most recently in Iraq) and in medical missions. He tries to travel 3 times a year and never goes to the same place twice.

Originally, Mr. Ronig said he would take us part way to Limon but he ended up driving us all the way to San Jose! He wasn`t planning on going anywhere that day but he told us that he didn`t feel like writing. Later he told us that he drove us so that he would know that for at least one day that we were safe. We told him that our parents were grateful.

When we arrived in San Jose and were searching for a place to stop, we accidently turned down a one-way road. We tried to turn around in a driveway and got both front wheels stuck in a drainage trench dug between the sidewalk and the street. Thankfully, and luckily, six very helpful passerby stopped, and with a lot of effort and teamwork we managed to lift the car out of the trench.

Mr. Ronig dropped us off at a gas station and we walked into the city. We had no idea where we were but we found an internet cafe, googled hostels, and asked the man working there if he knew where the one at the top of the list was. As if things hadn`t worked out well enough already, the hostel we picked was less than a block away! We could already tell that we loved San Jose!

Bocas del Toro, Panama

2008-03-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

Shopped till we dropped

2008-03-08T16:10:00.001-08:00

We decided to splurge a bit in Panama City. We hit the streets and went crazy...

You can never have too much of a good thing...

We decided to entertain our hosts and held a fashion show. We tried on absolutely everything we have purchased on this trip. Needless to say, we are really good shoppers...