A rainy day in Thailand...

... is better than a sunny day at home, I suppose, but it's still a rainy day. After almost two months in Nepal I was looking forward to a few relaxing days in the sun on a beach in Thailand.

I'm still looking forward to it.

I planned my arrival in Thailand after the monsoon season. But the southeastern peninsula has its own, special, late season. It apparently begins the day I arrive.

There are three islands off the southeastern coast that I wanted to check out for different reasons. Ko Samui is the southernmost, the biggest and the most developed. I did get some decent weather there but the place is 'touristy' in the worst sense. For instance, it's possible walk the entire length of the town of Chaweng in a leisurely 30 minutes and yet there were dozens of idle taxi cabs lined up along the sidewalk.

On the good side, I was able to satisfy my Starbucks craving. They had their holiday promotions in gear and were featuring their seasonal drinks. Christmas carols were playing. On November 15. In a country that is 95 percent Buddhist.

But if the tourist nonsense gets to be too much you just escape to the beach, right? Not so fast. It's about as wide as dental floss. This is low tide:



You can see the businesses form a solid wall along the beach. In the foreground is a sign for one of the massage parlors on the beach. The ratio of massage parlors to grains on the sand on the beach is approximately 2:1. At high tide the beach disappears completely and the surf rolls over the steps of the resorts. All the chairs, umbrellas and sandwich boards are pulled off the beach so they don't float away.

I went to the other extreme, a beach called Hat Lamai where -- get this -- there are only three 7-11's, one McDonald's and not one Starbucks! How do people survive there? I only stayed there two nights. I was afraid that without a Frappucino I might resort to cannibalism or find "The Heart of Darkness".

The horror. The horror. Oh, and with an extra shot of espresso and a cranberry scone, please.

I stayed in a cute little bungalow right on the beach with what would have been a stellar view on a sunny day.



I then took the shuttle to Ko Pha Ngan, the island most famous for being the home of the legendary Full Moon Parties. Young folks come from all over the world to dance all night Hat Rin (Sunset Beach) fueled by their substances of choice, all officially illegal but readily available. I made a point to avoid the full moon. I did get the day after the Half Moon Party. You've got to give them credit for milking the moon for all it's worth.

This is the beach after a monster storm and a monster party.



Locals spent the entire day clearing the beach of storm debris and party trash. In the background are bungalows with boulder-front views. The beach was nice, but I had received dozens of recommendations to check the place out and it fell short of the island paradise it had been built up to be.

The weather was terrible but luckily the restaurants all have big screen TVs and show movies. So I watched a bunch of 'Family Guy' episodes and a bootleg of 'Tropic Thunder'.

(Memo to Hollywood:
On behalf of the human race and probably some extraterrestrial intelligences as well, I beg you: Please stop putting Jack Black in movies.
Thank you.
P.S. I am still awaiting responses to my previous correspondences regarding Colin Farrell and Nicolas Cage.)

If you're a 'Friends' fan, go to Ko Pha Ngan. Now. It's all 'Friends', all the time. I stood in the street -- and by that I mean the only street -- and was able to see four different episodes playing simultaneously in four different restaurants. Wacky hijinks ensued in every direction.

Getting around Thailand has been astonishingly easy. I just happened to arrive Bangkok in the middle of a royal funeral. The king's sister died in January but they were kind enough wait until I got here to shut down the city and lay her to rest. That was nice of them.

But even in the midst of the funeral getting to the islands was a breeze. There's a company that arranges door-to-door service. My guest house arranged a taxi to the bus station, a bus to the port, a ferry to Ko Samui and a taxi to my guest house for about $30.

The company has fast catamaran shuttles they use to get people back and forth between the islands. The shuttles each have a snack bar and show movies. Seats are comfortable and the staff is efficient and professional.

All of which counts for doodly-squat in a monsoon. The hour or so it took to get from Ko Pha Ngan to where I am now, the island of Ko Tao, was like something out of a made-for-TV movie.

Fear Ferry!

The staff simply could not hand out barf bags and tissue fast enough. Easily two-thirds of the people on the boat were sick. Women were crying hysterically and men were curled up on the deck in their own vomit.

In retrospect, yours truly should not have had that last bottle of Singha beer at the restaurant the previous night while watching 'Team America: World Police' for the 50th time. I unintentionally ended up re-enacting the scene from the movie where Gary vomits continuously for almost a minute. By the end of the trip I had purged my digestive system so completely -- two bags' worth -- I thought I was going to throw up the soles of my shoes.

It should be noted that we were perfectly safe and dry on a fairly state-of-the-art vessel, but this vessel just happened to be navigating some choppy seas. I think if there had been any danger the crew probably would have paused the movie. Even as I was puking my guts out I found it funny that the retching was so loud it was drowning out the subtler plot points of what seemed to be a straight-to-video teen comedy starring Jack Bauer's daughter from "24".

I arrived on Ko Tao the kind of weather that inspires men to build arks. I had planned on spending the morning wandering around comparing prices on guest houses and scuba shops. Instead I went to the first place I saw.

I took a half-day scuba refresher course to make sure I still remembered how to put on my gear, clear my mask underwater and um, you know, not drown and whatnot, and then went on two fun dives in the afternoon. It was great to be back in the water. There were lively reefs with millions of fish. But it was raining and visibility was poor.

So I'm in Bangkok to make arrangements to move on. I've already done the top three items on my "to do" list for the trip: See Mount Everest, walk on the Great Wall and ride the Trans-Siberian. It's time go to Cambodia and check off number four: Angkor Wat.

The protests here have stranded thousands of travelers but I'll be traveling overland so hopefully I won't be affected.

Giving thanks

Today, first and foremost, I'm thankful to feel safe. I've received emails from people wondering if the protests in Thailand are affecting me in any way. If I were trying to fly in or out of the country it would be a problem because the airport has been shut down. I've met quite a few stranded travelers.

The protests are centered on government sites around Bangkok. It's a big city, so it's easy to avoid. There is no unrest in the neighborhood where I am.

I'm also thankful I didn't include India on my travel itinerary, because the logical time to do it would have been after Nepal, which would have meant I'd be there now, maybe even in Mumbai. In Nepal I met dozens of people who were traveling to India. I hope they're OK. The news stations here are covering the attacks in Mumbai and believe me, as a stranger in a foreign country, it worries me. But I do feel safe here. So don't worry.

On a lighter note, I am thankful that today also marks the six-month anniversary of the beginning of my adventure. When I envisioned this trip I hoped to backpack through Asia. My departure was delayed a bit, so I couldn't go with the original plan, which was to start here in Bangkok. So although I'm halfway done in a way I'm just beginning!

I've been island-hopping for the past ten days or so and hope to have a post about it soon, but in the mean time I want to say how grateful I am for all the support I've received from friends, family, former colleagues and even complete strangers from home. There have been days when I've been tired, frustrated, lonely, etc. Knowing that people are paying attention has given me an extra boost on days like that.

To those of you who have contributed to my travel fund, thanks very much. It's been a huge, welcome surprise, and a big help.

I'd also like to thank all the wonderful people, too numerous to mention, that I've met along the way, that have helped to make the first half of this odyssey so wonderful and memorable.

To my family and friends back home: Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello from Bangkok

The Thai word for hello is sawatdee and is traditionally accompanied by a wai, a slight bow of the head with the palms of the hands held as in prayer. The higher the hands are held in relation to the face and the lower the bow, the more respect the giver of the wai is showing.

Farangs aren't expected to wai, but I thought it would be nice to learn, so I had a local demonstrate.



So far, though, it hasn't been necessary to learn. All the signs are in
English and virtually everyone I've encountered speaks English. The one exception was the cab driver who drove me from the airport. Finding the hostel was a treat.

As thankful as I am that communication isn't an issue, I'm vaguely disappointed that in Bangkok, of all cities, it's so easy. The exotic mystique of the city is diminished somewhat every time I walk by a Burger King or Subway or 7-11. I'm not upset to see Starbucks, though. I went almost two months without a decent cup of coffee.

Krung Thep

I'm in the capital of Thailand, which we all know is Bangkok. Right?

In Thai it is known as Krung Thep, which roughly translates to "City of Angels". That's an abbreviation of the full name, the longest place name in the world according to Guinness:

กรุงเทพมหานคร อมรรัตนโกสินทร์ มหินทรายุธยามหาดิลก ภพนพรัตน์ ราชธานีบุรีรมย์ อุดมราชนิเวศน์ มหาสถาน อมรพิมาน อวตารสถิต สักกะทัตติยะ วิษณุกรรมประสิทธิ์

The English transliteration:

"Krung Thep Mahanakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Ayuthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasi"

As long as the name is, Bangkok isn't even part of it! The name means:

"The city of angels, the great city, the residence of the Emerald Buddha, the impregnable city (of Ayutthaya) of God Indra, the grand capital of the world endowed with nine precious gems, the happy city, abounding in an enormous Royal Palace that resembles the heavenly abode where reigns the reincarnated god, a city given by Indra and built by Vishnukarn."

I'll stick with Bangkok: "village of wild plums".

At one time Bangkok was the capital city and was located west of the Chao Phraya river. King Rama I decided to build a more defensible capital across the river in 1782. Apparently we in the western world didn't get the memo about the move and the name change.

But let's not be too harsh on ourselves. Even locals can't be expected to understand the full name since many of the words are archaic and no longer used in modern Thai.

Thais are easy-going people who generally avoid conflict, which may explain why they haven't bothered to correct the rest of the world. Or, as detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep, says in "Bangkok 8", John Burdett's delightfully decadent thriller: "Krung Thep means City of Angels, but we are happy to call it Bangkok if it helps to separate a farang from his money."

"Farang" is derived from the word for French, "farangseht". It's a generic term for western tourists, and can be anything from an insult to a term of endearment, depending on the situation.

Now I know my ABC

After doing the Everest trek I thought I was capable going solo, so I did the Annapurna Base Camp trek I went alone: no travel companions, no porter, no guide.

(First, some terminology. ABC is Annapurna Base Camp. MBC is Machhapuchhre Base Camp. EBC is Everest Base Camp. NBC is National Broadcasting Company.)

It was one of the most challenging things I've ever done. I wasn't sure it was a great idea. This is the Himalayas, after all, not a local state park. There was risk involved. If I were to get sick or injure my back again or fall off a cliff there would be no one there to help.

The altitude of the ABC trek is generally much lower than on the EBC trek. ABC is the highest point on the trek, at 4,100 meters. Even so, Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS), also called altitude sickness, is always a concern when hiking in Nepal. It's potentially fatal.

I wanted to test myself. This is the first and probably only time I'll ever come here. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.

The lesson here, as always: I am a moron.

But my poor old body held up pretty good. I ended up doing 12 days of hiking in about 8.5 days. The first day was difficult. The second day was hell. By the third day I was praying for God to strike me down and end my misery. But eventually my body got used to the wear and tear and it was quite enjoyable.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I had to delay my departure for two days due to local difficulties I can't really discuss without sounding culturally insensitive. I was really itching to get out of the city. I should have waited.

I didn't get AMS but I left for the trail even though I was suffering from it's lesser-known cousin, ALS: Awful Lasagne Syndrome.

I had been eating at the Everest Steak House at least once a day. I decided I should at least try another restaurant, so I went to an Italian place recommended by my guidebook. Even as I was eating my dinner I was thinking, "Oh, this is going to end badly". So I started the trek with a seriously upset stomach.

I stayed in Chhomrong, and was treated to a spectacular sunset. Heavy gray clouds cast inky shadows over the valley, but then started to recede, revealing the peak of Machhapuchhre, surely one of the world's most beautiful mountains. It was if I was there at the dawn of time, watching the mountain coalesce from the primordial ooze. It was truly eerie.



I took dozens of pictures of Machhapuchhre. It's like the supermodel of mountains. You can't take a bad picture of it. And you can't have it. (Climbing it is forbidden because it's sacred.) Its razor-sharp edges are fluted like a champagne glass, so it always looks different depending on the light and the clouds.

From Pokhara the name doesn't make much sense. It's only when you've circled around a bit that you can see the double summit that gives it it's name, which is Fishtail in English.

The third day was the worst day of hiking I've ever had. From Chhomrong the trail leads down an absurdly long and steep staircase to the river ... and then all the way back up again. And so it went, all the way to ABC.

This is looking back at Chhomrong (on the right), after the first hill.



I did this for nine hours. At the end of the day I thought this must be what it feels like to run a marathon. And then get hit by a cement truck.

The overall elevation change wasn't much but it was a constant series of ups and downs over steep, rocky terrain. I hadn't been hiking with a full pack since last year. And I didn't expect heat to be a factor in the Himalayas in November. Even with a lot of my gear sitting at my guest house in Pokhara it felt like I was carrying a grand piano full of molten lead.

My legs felt OK from the EBC hike -- I only carried a daypack -- but my hips weren't accustomed to carrying the weight. I felt like there was broken glass in the joints. I started fantasizing about giving away all my clothes and burning my backpack. I also berated myself for attempting the trek at all when I could be on a beach in Thailand.

For whatever reason I didn't encounter many people on the trail that day. So I was plodding along, lonely, miserable, tired and plagued by self-doubt. I contemplated turning back. But I kept moving, slow and steady, and found myself making decent progress. I even decided on a crazy plan.

I realized that if I pushed just a little further I would only have a short walk to ABC in the morning and could walk up there as the sun rose -- two days early! One problem with this plan was, aside from the physical difficulty, finding a bed. As the trail goes deeper into the mountains there are fewer lodges. Hikers in groups and even with just a personal porter or guide can send someone ahead to book a bed.

I was on my own.

I made it to the Shangri La lodge in Deorali at about 4:30.



The tent in front is where I slept. It was filthy, but I was overjoyed to have it. It's common for lodges to have sherpas and hikers sleep in the dining hall when all the beds are taken. Not only were all the benches spoken for, there were even people sleeping on the table.

I was off early the next morning and at ABC in time to watch the sun peek over the mountains. The area surrounding ABC is called the Annapurna Sanctuary, and with good reason. You really get a sense of your place in the universe when you're completely surrounded by snowcapped peaks.

I got there just as the sun was cresting my favorite mountain.



Here's a nice dramatic shot of Annapurna South.



And here is a 2-for-1 shot, with the shadow of Machhapuchhre on Annapurna South.



Annapurna I is the world's 10th-highest mountain, but because of the way its nested in the Sanctuary I didn't really get a good look at it until I was nearly at base camp. It's more of a wall than a mountain and, compared to its neighbors, rather plain, quite frankly.



It is also considered the world's deadliest mountain, with a 40 percent fatality rate. Forty percent! (Ironically, though, it was the first of the 8,000-meter peaks to be climbed.) One of its victims was Anatoli Boukreev, the villain/hero of John Krakauer's "Into Thin Air". Boukreev and his partner were lost in an avalanche on Christmas Day, 1997. There's a momument to them just below the prayer flags in the picture at the top of this post.

It was so beautiful I planned on staying two nights. I watch the sunrise. And then the storm rolled in. The temperature plummeted and the weather turned from blue skies to this.



When it started snowing it was time to leave. I planned on going as far as I could, but when I stopped for lunch it started raining buckets. So I stayed the night where I was, which happened to be the same place I had slept in the tent two nights earlier. This time, though, I had a bed! Woohoo!

The traditional ABC hike more or less heads back the same direction I came. I decided to cut over to Ghorepani, so I could see the Dhaulagiri Massif. I had seen a lot of the Annapurna Massif. It seemed a shame to come so close and not see the other gigantic wall of mountains the region is famous for.

In Tadapani I had a hard time dividing my attention between the awesome mountain views and the troop of langor monkeys playing in the trees right in front of my guesthouse. The two in the middle were kind enough to smile for the camera.



I had seen rhesus monkeys several times on the trail, while rafting and at the famous "Monkey Temple" in Kathmandu. No offense to them, but langors are more beautiful and more fun to watch. I love the contrast of their all-black faces surrounded by poofy, all-white manes.

I was really glad I took the detour the next day. It was one of the most enjoyable days of hiking I've ever had. Most of it was through cool, damp rhododendron forests over gentle trails. Earlier on the trek I had felt alone. That day I enjoyed the solitude. Big difference.

I followed a forested ridge where I got glimpses of Dhaulagiri I, the world's seventh-highest mountain. And then, just before I got to my final destination, there was a grassy knoll with an absolutely spectacular view of both mountain ranges. This was my first really good look at Dhaulagiri.



Amazingly, this spot has no name. The blue rooftops visible down below were my stopping point for the night. I was there nice and early so I found a room with a great view. I walked around to find the best place to look at the mountains and watch the sunset and startled when I discovered it was my room!

This is the view of the Kali Gandaki river valley, the world's deepest, from my window.



Dhaulagiri is impressive. Unlike Annapurna, Dhaulagiri towers above its neighbors, like a broken tooth. It's lumpy asymmetry makes it oddly endearing.

The reason people hike to this particular spot is to climb nearby Poon Hill to watch the sunrise. There are shorter loops of three to six days or so for which Poon Hill is the goal. I had talked to quite a few hikers who said it was a tourist hell. So of course I had to go and see for myself.

The sunset was good. The view was good. (The view from the anonymous grassy knoll the previous day was better, though.) The crowd was as awful as advertised. I woke at 4 a.m. hoping that I could beat the crowd and enjoy a few minutes of quiet. I was told the hike would take 90 minutes. But since I was hiking without a pack I felt like I was floating. I made it up in 35 minutes. The only other people for the first 20 minutes were the guys in the hut getting tea and coffee ready for tourists.

There were hundreds of people. From the observation tower I watched an endless series of headlamps ascend the hill, like the headlights in "Field of Dreams". I took a few photos and then left when the pushing and shoving began. This is looking down from the observation tower at the stairwell and the ground beneath.



I went back to the guesthouse, grabbed my pack, and hiked to Naya Pul, where I where I caught a cab back to Pokhara in time for lunch.

I felt so sorry for people coming the other way. Unlike other sections of the trail, this was all one way. Aside from a few dips it was all uphill for them. I flew down the stairs. It takes people three days to hike to Poon Hill, two if they really push it. I made it down in less than five hours.

Today I'm in Kathmandu. I fly to Bangkok tonight. I am thrilled to finally visit Southeast Asia for the first time, to check out the famous beaches and spicy food. But I was truly sad when I left Pokhara two days ago, realizing that it's probably the last time I'll ever wake up surrounded by the Himalayas.

Travel tips: Nepal

To my great surprise, people actually seem to be reading my blog. It's fun to write, but even more so knowing someone is paying attention.

I've tried to focus on the positive and only write about negative experiences if I can find the humor in them, or if there's some sort of lesson to be learned. There have been too many great experiences and so many fantastic people to write about, so it doesn't make sense to waste any time on the the few exceptions.

However, perhaps it makes sense for me to at least point out cities, hostels, restaurants, travel agents, etc., that I think should be avoided, as well as ones that are worth checking out.

Thus begins the first installment of travel tips:

In Kathmandu, if you're looking for a travel agent do NOT use Himalayan Glacier. They were hideously expensive and set me up with one of the worst travel guides I've ever had. He was lazy, sleazy and dishonest.

In Kathmandu, if you're looking for a travel agent do NOT use Himalayan Trail Finder. I booked my trip to Chitwan National Park through them and they failed to pick me up, not once, but twice!

If you're looking for a place to stay in Chitwan National Park, do NOT go to Island Jungle Resort. I wrote a lengthy post about it in which I called "the world's most remote tourist trap."

In Pokhara, I highly recommend paragliding, but do NOT use the Blue Sky company. I wrote a post about how my pilot screwed up and I only got about half the time I paid for and all they offered me by way of "apology" was a free t-shirt.

In Pokhara, if you're looking for a guest house, do NOT use Karma Guest House.

If you want further details email me.

Hail to the Chief

It occurred to me before I left for my Annapurna hike that I would be on the trail during the election. I wasn't going to let that delay my departure, though. On the way up I stayed at a lodge that had internet access so I busted my butt to get back there so I could check the results online. Of course, the internet was down that day...

A guide at the lodge had to call Kathmandu so we asked him to find out the result. Everyone cheered.

Way to go, America.

I try to keep a low profile as I travel. Partly it's because I don't want to live down to the stereotype of the obnoxious American traveler. (Sadly, it's true.) But it's also because we're not very popular thanks to our current president.

Now I stop pretending to be Canadian and start saying 'about' instead of 'aboot'. I'm joking, but I have encountered Americans who claim to be Canadian.

While I was on the trail I was often asked if I had any news about the election, as if, as an American, I was privy to some secret information source the other trekkers didn't have. Sorry, folks, I'm in the dark, same as you!

I've been traveling for nearly six months now and find myself talking about American politics quite a bit. What happens in America affects the world, after all. But I'm often asked to "explain" Bush. People are genuinely baffled by him, as if he's some peculiarly American practical joke the rest of the world just doesn't get.

For what it's worth, everyone I've met since I've been traveling -- and I mean literally, without exception, everyone -- wanted Obama to win. I saw this election as an opportunity to restore America's credibility in the eyes of the world. If McCain had won the world would have slammed its doors in our faces for good. Now they'll at least be willing to listen again.

I should point out that in my days as a cub reporter in Washington, I ran into McCain a lot. Because I worked his "favorite newspaper", one with a strongly conservative agenda, he was always friendly to me. I really liked and admired the guy. Back then he was the guy his campaign tried to portray him as, a straight-talking guy who didn't bow to the party line.

We should have elected the guy 12 years ago.

More Sherpas

I think it's incredibly rude to take someone's picture without their permission. I see so many tourists stick their cameras in the faces of local people just going about their business. I understand the fascination. That's why I wait until they're not looking. Yeah, it's a slippery moral slope.

Here are some pix of sherpas at work. I saw this tiny old man on my last day on the trail.



Like most sherpas, he was wearing rubber shower shoes. I stepped out of the way to let him walk down a long, stone stairway. The pipe was just barely above the level of the steps. Not once did I see them hit the stone.





This guy is the Mozart of sherpas.



Those are 6x6's, muddy and soaked from a day of rain. Guys, I challenge you to carry one of these any way you choose. Now imagine lugging two of them up and down steep mountain trails using a strap around your head, and nothing else. I had seen people carrying lumber vertically, like the plywood above, but not like this.

This guy was walking sideways, gently turning his head to swing the boards through the tight passages. He bonked against the occasional rock or tree, but it was astonishing how accurately he was able to swing the lumber with just the slightest movement of his head. If he had turned his head just a little too much the weight and the momentum would have screwed his head off. Even by Sherpa standards this was pretty amazing.

Bono once said "Every man knows he's a sissy compared to Johnny Cash." We're all sissies compared to sherpas.

Popular wisdom has it that sherpas have such superhuman stamina is that they have larger hearts than those of us who live at sea level. This is not true. Their bodies have adapted, but at the molecular level. Long story short, their blood, heart and lungs process oxygen more efficiently.

While it might not literally be true, metaphorically speaking sherpas are big-hearted people. Whenever you pass them on the trail they're always ready to greet you with a hearty "namaste", almost singing it, rather than saying it. Na-mas-TAY!

I try to learn the basic phrases before I visit a new country, but it's not necessary here. Most people here speak fluent English. Porters are the exception. I only know one word in Nepali, but it's a good word to know. Literally translated, Namaste, a Sanskrit word, means "I bow to the divine in you". So it works well as an all-purpose expression of politeness, for hello, goodbye and even thank you.

Self-portrait, Annapurna Base Camp

This me in front of Annapurna I, the world's 10th-highest mountain, five days ago. I've been moving pretty quickly...



This morning I woke up at 4 a.m. and walked up to Poon Hill, elevation 3,210 meters, to watch the sunrise over the mountains.



Then I went back and grabbed my bag and headed down to Pokhara, almost 8,000 feet of descent in just over four hours. So I'm a wee bit tired, and not terribly bright, apparently. But I wanted to let everyone back home know that I returned from my first solo trek in the Himalayas in one piece, albeit a sore and tired piece.

Lots of stuff to write about and some great pics, I hope, but first I must sleep...