We went back to a small beach community Jemeluk where we had stayed 15 years ago.Of course it had grown immensely and with all the choices for accommodation, none seem just right.After some looking, at the end of the village, a well-built young man, obviously a fisherman, as opposed to a tout who gets a commission for renting a place, invited us to look at his rooms.
Down a dirt path we went for about 150 meters, through a field, past the small black pig tied with a rope, past the chickens and two brown cows to a wall with a small opening that led to two bungalows, in front of which was a small open café and all of this no more than 30 feet from the stormy Bali Ocean.
The room was obviously just built and had crisp white linen with a huge four poster bed.I knew this was the perfect place for us. I asked about the rate and with only a smile and a hint for a discount, the $12 a night rate with breakfast, seemed like a gift.
It was only when we were moving into the room that I noticed a neatly monogramed towel “Papa’s Home Stay”.
Later in the small eatery, sipping a hot ginger tea, the wind blowing, the white caps dancing, the local children running around freely,I had tears of joy. I had come home.
My father, whose birthday is today, was called "Papa".
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Bali Sanur to Tanah Lot
Having flown across the Pacific on 17 hour flights on numerous occasions, the short hop from Perth to Bali was perfectly uneventful, other than it was via the no frills airline Jet Star, that charges for everything, plastic sandwiches, blankets and $10 per movie on tiny hand held tablet computers, but to my relief not for the use of toilet… yet. Somewhat incongruously we ate our home-made smoked salmon sandwiches to the slight amusement of the entirely Asian staff.
On our arrival we cleared immigration quite quickly as the woman agent, with full Muslim head covering, barely took notice of us as she had a cellphone discretely tucked against her ear and was in full conversation the whole time, easing the transition from formal Australia to the ways of the island of Bali.
We were met at the airport as arranged, and a small pickup truck, with me and the bikes in the back, were quickly delivered to our Sunhouse Guesthouse. Alas, it being overcast and very humid, it did not live up to that sunny part of the expectations, otherwise its a charming family place, air con and hot water, when there is power, including WiFi throughout, and it helps that I can sit outside looking at the small pool and sip a cup of tea, from the help-yourself kitchen.
Riding in a pickup gives a very different first impression of a place than one gets from the glossy brochures with gleaming white sandy beaches. In heavy traffic I enjoyed the buzz of scooters around our car and noted how friendly and curious the drivers were of this stranger amongst there mist; I was also too aware of the large pools of water that collected by the sides of roads, reminding me that it’s the rainy season, and my profound distaste for riding in rain.
The shock of the heat and humidity and the pollution added to the feeling of weariness despite or perhaps being immediately transported to a different milieu and not quite knowing where we were. However, after unloading bikes and bags, we headed to the beach, where some locals were playing ball and others pulling in colourful, narrow wooden canoes with stabilizers after a day of fishing.
A night market was just starting up and I could not resist the invitation for roasted corn on the cob from a woman who had a tiny clump of charcoal simmering. When I ordered two, she with a big smile and vigorous effort fanned the flame, filling the air with sparks and that unmistakeable aroma of charcoal. Within a few minutes she was waving at us as the corns were ready, their smoky flavour enhanced by copious butter and in my case hot chillies, applied with a brush.
The feeling of wellbeing started at that moment and we slowly made the transition and started to discover why Bali is referred to as the Land of the Gods. Having been here 15 years ago, the changes are all too obvious, and like people before us, we can tell the first-timers, I remember when Sanur beach was... For ourselves, I try to keep in check, the inevitable expectations from before and to appreciate the here and now.
Signs of progress include the usual new hotels, eateries and simply more of the same. Given all the choices, from fish and chips to pizza, sushi etc. that first night, and many times since, we had the simplest of Indonesian staples, Nasi Goring which is enjoyed by the locals for breakfast, lunch and dinner and it too helped make the connection to this place.
The first day was spent putting the bikes together, (at least an hour) walking around, getting a local SIM card,buying drinks and having lunch overlooking the beach and the sea.
Having gotten a slow start, we were determined to perfect the technique, and booked another two nights stay at another hotel, (ours being full) slightly more upmarket, with a much larger pool and an irresistible offering of a buffet breakfast, albeit we had not earned the rights to consume as had done zero kilometers on the bicycles.
On the fifth day, having built up caloric reserves, we headed to the famous seaside temple of Tanah Lot. I had given some thought to our route, as it meant going through the capital city of Denpasar, and heeding the warning of guidebooks of impossible traffic, and yet we found the dreaded bypass road, to be perfectly smooth, and traffic well behaved, certainly compared to places like India and other parts of South-East Asia. The one regret was that in focusing on the ride, I did not stop to take a photo of the sign advertising “ANTIQUES, MADE TO ORDER”, a motto that continues to resonate as we continue trying to differentiate the real or authentic Bali from the made to order Bali experience, in luxury villas, with private pools etc.
Sadly, even the trusted bible of the backpacker and off the beaten traveler has bought into the crass theater of the "Bali experience",which can only be considered as conspicous consumption, such that the Lonely Planet is now calling the Four Seasons and similar hotels as its TOP CHOICE, at prices starting at $800 per night.
Paul Theroux’s comment seems so appropriate, "Luxury is the enemy of observation, a costly indulgence that induces a good feeling that you notice nothing. Luxury spoils and infantilizes you and prevents you from knowing the world".
In contrast, we have had perfectly comfortable accommodations, ranging from $15 to $30 per night, often in small family establishments where the smiles and welcome were genuine. We also had the ability to compare and contrast places to stay, gently negotiate prices until a place said “hello”. In Tanah Lot, we stayed at Dewi Sinta, that same comfortable hotel, overlooking the pool, where we stayed 15 years ago, but LP no longer deems it worthy of mention.
Beyond the souvenir sellers, the temple and the jagged coastline is still magical and the army of instant photographers did a rip-roaring business, as all the Indonesian tourists wanted to have their pictures taken of us with them, and we became part of their authentic experience in a quest to know the world?
On our arrival we cleared immigration quite quickly as the woman agent, with full Muslim head covering, barely took notice of us as she had a cellphone discretely tucked against her ear and was in full conversation the whole time, easing the transition from formal Australia to the ways of the island of Bali.
We were met at the airport as arranged, and a small pickup truck, with me and the bikes in the back, were quickly delivered to our Sunhouse Guesthouse. Alas, it being overcast and very humid, it did not live up to that sunny part of the expectations, otherwise its a charming family place, air con and hot water, when there is power, including WiFi throughout, and it helps that I can sit outside looking at the small pool and sip a cup of tea, from the help-yourself kitchen.
Riding in a pickup gives a very different first impression of a place than one gets from the glossy brochures with gleaming white sandy beaches. In heavy traffic I enjoyed the buzz of scooters around our car and noted how friendly and curious the drivers were of this stranger amongst there mist; I was also too aware of the large pools of water that collected by the sides of roads, reminding me that it’s the rainy season, and my profound distaste for riding in rain.
The shock of the heat and humidity and the pollution added to the feeling of weariness despite or perhaps being immediately transported to a different milieu and not quite knowing where we were. However, after unloading bikes and bags, we headed to the beach, where some locals were playing ball and others pulling in colourful, narrow wooden canoes with stabilizers after a day of fishing.
A night market was just starting up and I could not resist the invitation for roasted corn on the cob from a woman who had a tiny clump of charcoal simmering. When I ordered two, she with a big smile and vigorous effort fanned the flame, filling the air with sparks and that unmistakeable aroma of charcoal. Within a few minutes she was waving at us as the corns were ready, their smoky flavour enhanced by copious butter and in my case hot chillies, applied with a brush.
The feeling of wellbeing started at that moment and we slowly made the transition and started to discover why Bali is referred to as the Land of the Gods. Having been here 15 years ago, the changes are all too obvious, and like people before us, we can tell the first-timers, I remember when Sanur beach was... For ourselves, I try to keep in check, the inevitable expectations from before and to appreciate the here and now.
Signs of progress include the usual new hotels, eateries and simply more of the same. Given all the choices, from fish and chips to pizza, sushi etc. that first night, and many times since, we had the simplest of Indonesian staples, Nasi Goring which is enjoyed by the locals for breakfast, lunch and dinner and it too helped make the connection to this place.
The first day was spent putting the bikes together, (at least an hour) walking around, getting a local SIM card,buying drinks and having lunch overlooking the beach and the sea.
Having gotten a slow start, we were determined to perfect the technique, and booked another two nights stay at another hotel, (ours being full) slightly more upmarket, with a much larger pool and an irresistible offering of a buffet breakfast, albeit we had not earned the rights to consume as had done zero kilometers on the bicycles.
On the fifth day, having built up caloric reserves, we headed to the famous seaside temple of Tanah Lot. I had given some thought to our route, as it meant going through the capital city of Denpasar, and heeding the warning of guidebooks of impossible traffic, and yet we found the dreaded bypass road, to be perfectly smooth, and traffic well behaved, certainly compared to places like India and other parts of South-East Asia. The one regret was that in focusing on the ride, I did not stop to take a photo of the sign advertising “ANTIQUES, MADE TO ORDER”, a motto that continues to resonate as we continue trying to differentiate the real or authentic Bali from the made to order Bali experience, in luxury villas, with private pools etc.
Sadly, even the trusted bible of the backpacker and off the beaten traveler has bought into the crass theater of the "Bali experience",which can only be considered as conspicous consumption, such that the Lonely Planet is now calling the Four Seasons and similar hotels as its TOP CHOICE, at prices starting at $800 per night.
Paul Theroux’s comment seems so appropriate, "Luxury is the enemy of observation, a costly indulgence that induces a good feeling that you notice nothing. Luxury spoils and infantilizes you and prevents you from knowing the world".
In contrast, we have had perfectly comfortable accommodations, ranging from $15 to $30 per night, often in small family establishments where the smiles and welcome were genuine. We also had the ability to compare and contrast places to stay, gently negotiate prices until a place said “hello”. In Tanah Lot, we stayed at Dewi Sinta, that same comfortable hotel, overlooking the pool, where we stayed 15 years ago, but LP no longer deems it worthy of mention.
Beyond the souvenir sellers, the temple and the jagged coastline is still magical and the army of instant photographers did a rip-roaring business, as all the Indonesian tourists wanted to have their pictures taken of us with them, and we became part of their authentic experience in a quest to know the world?
Friday, December 30, 2011
On the malaise of modernity
Perth, Australia, December 31, 2011
I recall with nostalgia, the days when I awaited with some anticipation the annual letters of distant friends that highlighted with wit and nostalgia events that transpired for them and their families, during the previous year. As this year is about the end, in contrast, its with some apprehension that I contemplate this blog, aware that many have asked if I will “blog” our travels to Australia, Indonesia, Malaysia and Taiwan this year and deciding what it is that I really want to say. For now at least, since I am comfortably ensconced in Perth Australia, our second home, or perhaps more correctly our first and only home, since we have sold our house in Toronto and all of our earthly possessions, other than our touring bicycles and minimal amount of gear with which we travel now reside, in a 10’x 17’climate controlled storage unit in Toronto, in what was formerly a factory that manufactured widgets, I feel the onus of what to write about acutely, in our rapidly changing world.
I am much too aware, that in this age of desk top, lap top, note-book and net book computers, not to mention the pervasiveness of smart phones, tablets, and the advent of social media and countless apps, communication is increasing at an exponential rate and yet I find that most messages are correspondingly denuded of content. Devices as status symbols are becoming the message as witnessed by the little signature lines that proudly state that the message was brought to you courtesy of some i-phone, i-pad, berry or some variant of an android attesting to the smarts of the owner.
While not quite a Luddite, since I own a most basic cell phone, and travel with a netbook, I am aware that majority of people are content answering the most frequent of questions in their communication: “where are you”? and “what are you doing?” I have a need to express, if anyone cares, what I am thinking and feeling and of course long to hear from others beyond the simple indication of where they are located and what particular activity they are engaged in.
Travel has always been an eye opener for me, especially over the last nearly two decades, in the less economically developed parts of the world and the influence of technology on our behaviour and our values.
I recall being in Israel in the early 1970s, and people lamenting how prior to the prevalence of telephones, friends and family used to arrive unannounced and were entertained spontaneously. Today, I am told that in some contexts its considered impolite or intrusive to telephone someone without arranging for a telephone conference time by some other device.
I am also old enough to remember the great European tradition of coffee houses, where the cadre of intellectuals and the romantically inclined would while away hours discussing some important matter of state, possibly the next revolution or some revolutionary romance, as the case may be. Today, coffee houses are virtually devoid of any conversation as the focus is on the keyboard at hand, or perhaps on intrusive cell phone conversation.
I can also recall the days when going to a gym meant some interaction with people and when it was common practice to exchange greetings on the street. Now with i-tunes most people are plugged in and tuned out, oblivious to the world around them.
Another effect of technology is that we are googelized, and no longer experience the world directly, but filtered through some technology that allows us to live vicariously from second hand information that we can so readily collect from cyberspace. No need to experience the snow, sun, rain or humidity when the trusted device provides minute by minute updates. The world of opinion leaders and reviews can tell us what to eat, read, watch and consume, and if need be, most or all our needs can be delivered to the comfort of our homes. If we do venture out we can fully expect that peak, perfect experience we have had the opportunity of googelizing to a predictable pablum like pulp.
The advent of all enabling technologies also have social consequences that reinforce patterns of dependent behaviour. Cell phones initially were sold as communication devices to be used in cases of emergency. Now we have become so fearful of not being able to communicate where we are and what we are doing at all times, that even seven year old children must have the latest smart phones, so parents can helicopter over them and protect them from all manner of perceived evils that may befall them. Needless to say, with a heightened awareness of the dangers of the world, children no longer walk to school, take public transit, play on the streets but join their parents, safely cocooned indoors: kids glued to their video games and the parents to so called “reality” TV shows or spreading the latest disease of inane videos to go even more viral.
While travelling on two wheels on the back roads of south-east Asia is not a complete or by any means the only anti-dote to escaping the malaise of modernity, it is a step in the right direction. The world is a far safer, warmer, more welcoming and exciting place, than the dependency inducing self-indulging technologies would have one believe.
It is still possible to have unique, unanticipated “aha” experiences by leaving behind the creature comforts of our confines. However, time is running short. As we in the economically advanced world are quertying away much about nothing, oblivious to others around us, the planet is being blanketed by the same devices and there are no guarantees that our world will be a safer and happier place for it. Au contraire, given the recent experiences of the Arab Spring and the Occupy Movements demonstrate, anyone with or without a legitimate case can cause governments to topple or the rights of democratically elected peoples to be trampled upon. Worse, anyone can produce a device of mass destruction causing much more than minor social disruption. Do I hear the clarion of anarchists to unite? But that’s another story. Happy New Year.
‘
I recall with nostalgia, the days when I awaited with some anticipation the annual letters of distant friends that highlighted with wit and nostalgia events that transpired for them and their families, during the previous year. As this year is about the end, in contrast, its with some apprehension that I contemplate this blog, aware that many have asked if I will “blog” our travels to Australia, Indonesia, Malaysia and Taiwan this year and deciding what it is that I really want to say. For now at least, since I am comfortably ensconced in Perth Australia, our second home, or perhaps more correctly our first and only home, since we have sold our house in Toronto and all of our earthly possessions, other than our touring bicycles and minimal amount of gear with which we travel now reside, in a 10’x 17’climate controlled storage unit in Toronto, in what was formerly a factory that manufactured widgets, I feel the onus of what to write about acutely, in our rapidly changing world.
I am much too aware, that in this age of desk top, lap top, note-book and net book computers, not to mention the pervasiveness of smart phones, tablets, and the advent of social media and countless apps, communication is increasing at an exponential rate and yet I find that most messages are correspondingly denuded of content. Devices as status symbols are becoming the message as witnessed by the little signature lines that proudly state that the message was brought to you courtesy of some i-phone, i-pad, berry or some variant of an android attesting to the smarts of the owner.
While not quite a Luddite, since I own a most basic cell phone, and travel with a netbook, I am aware that majority of people are content answering the most frequent of questions in their communication: “where are you”? and “what are you doing?” I have a need to express, if anyone cares, what I am thinking and feeling and of course long to hear from others beyond the simple indication of where they are located and what particular activity they are engaged in.
Travel has always been an eye opener for me, especially over the last nearly two decades, in the less economically developed parts of the world and the influence of technology on our behaviour and our values.
I recall being in Israel in the early 1970s, and people lamenting how prior to the prevalence of telephones, friends and family used to arrive unannounced and were entertained spontaneously. Today, I am told that in some contexts its considered impolite or intrusive to telephone someone without arranging for a telephone conference time by some other device.
I am also old enough to remember the great European tradition of coffee houses, where the cadre of intellectuals and the romantically inclined would while away hours discussing some important matter of state, possibly the next revolution or some revolutionary romance, as the case may be. Today, coffee houses are virtually devoid of any conversation as the focus is on the keyboard at hand, or perhaps on intrusive cell phone conversation.
I can also recall the days when going to a gym meant some interaction with people and when it was common practice to exchange greetings on the street. Now with i-tunes most people are plugged in and tuned out, oblivious to the world around them.
Another effect of technology is that we are googelized, and no longer experience the world directly, but filtered through some technology that allows us to live vicariously from second hand information that we can so readily collect from cyberspace. No need to experience the snow, sun, rain or humidity when the trusted device provides minute by minute updates. The world of opinion leaders and reviews can tell us what to eat, read, watch and consume, and if need be, most or all our needs can be delivered to the comfort of our homes. If we do venture out we can fully expect that peak, perfect experience we have had the opportunity of googelizing to a predictable pablum like pulp.
The advent of all enabling technologies also have social consequences that reinforce patterns of dependent behaviour. Cell phones initially were sold as communication devices to be used in cases of emergency. Now we have become so fearful of not being able to communicate where we are and what we are doing at all times, that even seven year old children must have the latest smart phones, so parents can helicopter over them and protect them from all manner of perceived evils that may befall them. Needless to say, with a heightened awareness of the dangers of the world, children no longer walk to school, take public transit, play on the streets but join their parents, safely cocooned indoors: kids glued to their video games and the parents to so called “reality” TV shows or spreading the latest disease of inane videos to go even more viral.
While travelling on two wheels on the back roads of south-east Asia is not a complete or by any means the only anti-dote to escaping the malaise of modernity, it is a step in the right direction. The world is a far safer, warmer, more welcoming and exciting place, than the dependency inducing self-indulging technologies would have one believe.
It is still possible to have unique, unanticipated “aha” experiences by leaving behind the creature comforts of our confines. However, time is running short. As we in the economically advanced world are quertying away much about nothing, oblivious to others around us, the planet is being blanketed by the same devices and there are no guarantees that our world will be a safer and happier place for it. Au contraire, given the recent experiences of the Arab Spring and the Occupy Movements demonstrate, anyone with or without a legitimate case can cause governments to topple or the rights of democratically elected peoples to be trampled upon. Worse, anyone can produce a device of mass destruction causing much more than minor social disruption. Do I hear the clarion of anarchists to unite? But that’s another story. Happy New Year.
‘
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Reflections
Three weeks ago, Alison and I decided to sell the house I have lived in for nearly 31 years, which needless to say involved a great deal of de-cluttering,selling most of our furniture and letting go of STUFF, which no doubt in our newly found lightened, if not enlightened but homeless state, will allow us the freedom the explore more.
It is as if I have to let go of the past to make room for the future.
As I applied this principle of making room on my computer's C Drive, I came across the piece below that I wrote on the occasion of the tragic death of two infant boys.
LIFE AND IMPERMANENCE
All life is impermanent. We are all children of the Earth, and, at some time, she will take us back again. We are continually rising from Mother Earth, being nurtured by her, and then returning to her. Plants are born, live for a period of time, and then return to the Earth and in doing so, they nurture our gardens. We humans are unique in our knowledge of our own immortality, and our ability to deal with our own passing through reason. We also have choices about and some sense of what we leave behind.
Today we are here to reflect on the passing of two souls who did not yet have the awareness of the meaning of life. We are also here to comfort two parents and in some way all of us, who have the ability to reflect on the imponderable question of “why”.
Leslie and Susan from their meeting and deciding to share their lives, from their determined plans to have a family, from their earliest knowledge of life having been formed, from the moment of knowing there were two fertilized eggs, to the surprise of anticipating two tiny males, with each passing week watching them grow, planning for their care, the myriad of details, its hard to conceive of two beings more anticipated by two parents than whose passing we are here to observe today…alas, they are no more.
We are grieving with Leslie and Susan… for what might have been: the hands they longed to touch, the faces they longed to kiss. Their arms hold no small lives; their hearts are filled with sadness. We are all confounded by the overwhelming sense of loss of never seeing the world through four eyes and two inquiring minds, to not knowing what they might have looked like, what they might have thought and what legacy they might have left behind.
Our rational minds crave order. We have a tendency to think that life is a linear progression, where we go from A to B to C and so on, and if don’t get to B we can't get to C. Events like this, tell us that order can be an illusion. If we think carefully about our own lives, we know that the pattern of our past is often serendipitous and accidental as when fertilization formed the miracle of two lives; and the mystery of why they are no more. We don't know why.
Perhaps our challenge in life is not to know precisely where we are going, but to prepare ourselves so when those wonderful moments of serendipity occur or when we are confronted with mysterious painful ones, such as the passings we are observing today, at times like these we can listen to our hearts and know what it is we need to do. So in remembering the loss of two tiny souls, let us reflect on the joys, the excitement, the anticipation, let us remember how their possibility fertilized our imaginations and hope that their memory will yet take us to a higher plane, where our hearts can roam free and where we can listen to the little voices inside all of us. Life is impermanent; memories live for ever.
September 23, 2003
It is as if I have to let go of the past to make room for the future.
As I applied this principle of making room on my computer's C Drive, I came across the piece below that I wrote on the occasion of the tragic death of two infant boys.
LIFE AND IMPERMANENCE
All life is impermanent. We are all children of the Earth, and, at some time, she will take us back again. We are continually rising from Mother Earth, being nurtured by her, and then returning to her. Plants are born, live for a period of time, and then return to the Earth and in doing so, they nurture our gardens. We humans are unique in our knowledge of our own immortality, and our ability to deal with our own passing through reason. We also have choices about and some sense of what we leave behind.
Today we are here to reflect on the passing of two souls who did not yet have the awareness of the meaning of life. We are also here to comfort two parents and in some way all of us, who have the ability to reflect on the imponderable question of “why”.
Leslie and Susan from their meeting and deciding to share their lives, from their determined plans to have a family, from their earliest knowledge of life having been formed, from the moment of knowing there were two fertilized eggs, to the surprise of anticipating two tiny males, with each passing week watching them grow, planning for their care, the myriad of details, its hard to conceive of two beings more anticipated by two parents than whose passing we are here to observe today…alas, they are no more.
We are grieving with Leslie and Susan… for what might have been: the hands they longed to touch, the faces they longed to kiss. Their arms hold no small lives; their hearts are filled with sadness. We are all confounded by the overwhelming sense of loss of never seeing the world through four eyes and two inquiring minds, to not knowing what they might have looked like, what they might have thought and what legacy they might have left behind.
Our rational minds crave order. We have a tendency to think that life is a linear progression, where we go from A to B to C and so on, and if don’t get to B we can't get to C. Events like this, tell us that order can be an illusion. If we think carefully about our own lives, we know that the pattern of our past is often serendipitous and accidental as when fertilization formed the miracle of two lives; and the mystery of why they are no more. We don't know why.
Perhaps our challenge in life is not to know precisely where we are going, but to prepare ourselves so when those wonderful moments of serendipity occur or when we are confronted with mysterious painful ones, such as the passings we are observing today, at times like these we can listen to our hearts and know what it is we need to do. So in remembering the loss of two tiny souls, let us reflect on the joys, the excitement, the anticipation, let us remember how their possibility fertilized our imaginations and hope that their memory will yet take us to a higher plane, where our hearts can roam free and where we can listen to the little voices inside all of us. Life is impermanent; memories live for ever.
September 23, 2003
Finally, our trip in Northern India and Nepal
As the first taste of winter has arrived in Toronto, and am planning this year's winter getaway,I am reminded that I left the blog incomplete. I have no excuse. Below is our route, should anyone like to follow our fading tire tracks.
INDIA
January 8 – February 15, 2011
Date Destination Distance
Km
Jan 7 Perth - Kuala Lumpur 0
Jan 7 Delhi 0
Jan 8 Delhi - Gurgaon 0
Jan 9 Palwal 72
Jan 10 Vrindavan 87
Jan 11 Vrindavan 20
Jan 12 Agra 78
Jan 13 Agra 0
Jan 14 Agra 0
Jan 15 Agra 0
Jan 16 Dhaulpur 61
Jan 17 Gwalior 69
Jan 18 Datia 76
Jan 19 Orchhe 50
Jan 20 Orchhe 0
Jan 21 Nowgong 110
Jan 22 Khajaraho 71
Jan 23 Khajaraho 0
Jan 24 Khajaraho 0
Jan 25 Panna 47
Jan 26 Satna 73
Jan 27 Chittrakoot 83
Jan 28 Chittrakoot 0
Jan 29 Allahabad 137
Jan 30 Allahabad 0
Jan 31 Mirzapur 95
Feb 1 Varanasi 67
Feb 2 Varanasi 0
Feb 3 Varanasi 0
Feb 4 Varanasi 0
Feb 5 Varanasi 0
Feb 6 Varanasi 0
Feb 7 Sarnath 18
Feb 8 Sarnath 0
Feb 9 Sarnath 0
Feb 10 Sarnath 0
Feb 11 Sarnath 0
Feb 12 Gazipur 72
Feb 13 Dohrighat 81
Feb 14 Kushinagar 92
Feb 15 Gorakpur 57
TOTAL 1,516
1,516km in 21 full cycling days = 72km per day (average)
NEPAL
Feb 16 Sunali 100
Feb 17 Lumbini 26
Feb 18 Lumbini 15
Feb 19 Butwal 46
Feb 20 Tansen 40
Feb 21 Waling 62
Feb 22 Pokara 62
Feb 23 Pokara 0
Feb 24 Pokara 0
Feb 25 Bandipur
Feb 26 Bandipur
Feb 27 Malekhu 76
Feb 28 Kathmandu 46
Mar 1 Kathmandu 0
Mar 2 Kathmandu 0
Mar 3 Kathmandu 0
Mar 4 Kathmandu 0
Mar 5 Kathmandu 0
Mar 6 Kathmandu 0
Mar 7 Kathmandu 0
Mar 8 Kathmandu 0
Mar 9 Kathmandu 0
Mar 10 Kathmandu 0
Mar 11 Daman 0
Mar 12 Daman 0
Mar 13 Heteuda 57
Mar 14 Sauraha 74
Mar 15 Sauraha 0
Mar 16 Narayanghat 24
Mar 17 Butwal 118
Mar 18 Chatauta 66
Mar 19 Lahami 60
Mar 20 Kohalpur 118
1,136km in 18 full cycling days = 63km per day (average)
INDIA RIVISITED
Mar 27 Radrapur 100
Mar 28 Moradabad 75
Mar 29 Ghaziabad 14
Mar 30 Ghaziabad - IGI Airport 0
Mar 31 Toronto 0
TOTAL 189
GRAND TOTAL: India + Nepal 2,841km in 42 full cycling days = 68km per day
INDIA
January 8 – February 15, 2011
Date Destination Distance
Km
Jan 7 Perth - Kuala Lumpur 0
Jan 7 Delhi 0
Jan 8 Delhi - Gurgaon 0
Jan 9 Palwal 72
Jan 10 Vrindavan 87
Jan 11 Vrindavan 20
Jan 12 Agra 78
Jan 13 Agra 0
Jan 14 Agra 0
Jan 15 Agra 0
Jan 16 Dhaulpur 61
Jan 17 Gwalior 69
Jan 18 Datia 76
Jan 19 Orchhe 50
Jan 20 Orchhe 0
Jan 21 Nowgong 110
Jan 22 Khajaraho 71
Jan 23 Khajaraho 0
Jan 24 Khajaraho 0
Jan 25 Panna 47
Jan 26 Satna 73
Jan 27 Chittrakoot 83
Jan 28 Chittrakoot 0
Jan 29 Allahabad 137
Jan 30 Allahabad 0
Jan 31 Mirzapur 95
Feb 1 Varanasi 67
Feb 2 Varanasi 0
Feb 3 Varanasi 0
Feb 4 Varanasi 0
Feb 5 Varanasi 0
Feb 6 Varanasi 0
Feb 7 Sarnath 18
Feb 8 Sarnath 0
Feb 9 Sarnath 0
Feb 10 Sarnath 0
Feb 11 Sarnath 0
Feb 12 Gazipur 72
Feb 13 Dohrighat 81
Feb 14 Kushinagar 92
Feb 15 Gorakpur 57
TOTAL 1,516
1,516km in 21 full cycling days = 72km per day (average)
NEPAL
Feb 16 Sunali 100
Feb 17 Lumbini 26
Feb 18 Lumbini 15
Feb 19 Butwal 46
Feb 20 Tansen 40
Feb 21 Waling 62
Feb 22 Pokara 62
Feb 23 Pokara 0
Feb 24 Pokara 0
Feb 25 Bandipur
Feb 26 Bandipur
Feb 27 Malekhu 76
Feb 28 Kathmandu 46
Mar 1 Kathmandu 0
Mar 2 Kathmandu 0
Mar 3 Kathmandu 0
Mar 4 Kathmandu 0
Mar 5 Kathmandu 0
Mar 6 Kathmandu 0
Mar 7 Kathmandu 0
Mar 8 Kathmandu 0
Mar 9 Kathmandu 0
Mar 10 Kathmandu 0
Mar 11 Daman 0
Mar 12 Daman 0
Mar 13 Heteuda 57
Mar 14 Sauraha 74
Mar 15 Sauraha 0
Mar 16 Narayanghat 24
Mar 17 Butwal 118
Mar 18 Chatauta 66
Mar 19 Lahami 60
Mar 20 Kohalpur 118
1,136km in 18 full cycling days = 63km per day (average)
INDIA RIVISITED
Mar 27 Radrapur 100
Mar 28 Moradabad 75
Mar 29 Ghaziabad 14
Mar 30 Ghaziabad - IGI Airport 0
Mar 31 Toronto 0
TOTAL 189
GRAND TOTAL: India + Nepal 2,841km in 42 full cycling days = 68km per day
Monday, August 08, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Changing gears in Kathmandu
When we set out from Delhi to Kathmandu, we not only had in mind a ride through a kaleidoscope of sights and terrain, but a mission to support a cause that Alison is involved with, namely to raise funds for a program to help kids in various parts of the world have educational supplies. Alison calls her mission Kinder Kit Fundraiser: B.I.K.E = Bicycling In Aid of Kids Education and thus far she has raised more than $3000 but I am sure she would be delighted by additional contributions, which can be made by following the link https://secure.e2rm.com/registrant/donate.aspx?EventID=62239&LangPref=en-CA&Referrer=http%3a%2f%2fwww.veahavta.org%2findex.php%2fcurrent-event%2f
After a couple of days of sightseeing, being in a UNESCO World Heritage Site, we shifted into a neutral gear an became tourists. There are in Katmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur literally thousands of temples, stupas, monasteries scattered around narrow alley ways and the famous Durbar Square which dates back many centuries. Besides the Nepalese Buddhist and Hindu temples, there are a large number of beautiful Tibetan temples with lamas in Burdgundy robes, all in a setting of east meets west and everything in between. As might be expected there are countless shopping and eating opportunities and the gamut of places from simple rooms in guest houses to five star hotels, all in a valley that on a clear day seems magical and on others, it’s easy to see, or should it be not seen why it’s one of the most polluted cities in the world.
While we did a lot walking, riding buses and taking an occasional taxi, we changed gears, not that of bicycles, but immersing ourselves in a humanitarian organization from Israel, called Tevel B’Tzedek that is doing some marvelous work here. http://www.tevelbtzedek.org/ We have literally moved in with them over the last six nights, since Alison in particular wanted to learn about the organization and to participate in trips that started very early in the morning to see firsthand in the field the fruits of their labour which indeed are impressive. Alison also had some meaningful input into some organization development issues with TbT, which is one area of her expertise.
Their achievements to date are substantial in terms of empowering youth and women, education, agriculture and early child development which can be seen from the numerous school and extra-curricular programs, arts activities, women’s groups, farming, bio gas, sanitation, water supply and health education programs which they have established.
TbT adopts a holistic approach by working closely with established community leaders and partners, and has 23 Nepali staff who manage and operate programs throughout the year. Each year, TbT operates both long and short term volunteer programs. The four month ‘’Full Program’’ operates twice a year with two cohorts and the 5 week ‘’Backpackers’’ program consists of 6 cohorts between October and May. TbT conducts extensive orientation sessions for the volunteers to prepare them for their placements including Nepali language, culture, history, site visits, workshops and discussions on Jewish values and responsible volunteerism.
During our field visits we saw terraced fields of various crops that only a couple of years ago were dormant. TbT brought water from nearly a half kilometer, introduced wells, toilets that are linked to a system to produce bio-gas for cooking year around, concrete enclosures for animals, and a new fishpond. We met with various youth, womens ‘groups, saw programs for blind kids, day care centers, school programs and much more that were TbT’s initiatives. Perhaps most moving was our living and at times participating with 20 young very energetic and enthusiastic Israeli’s who are going through a one month intensive training program, that includes learning Nepalese, prior to them going into the field for three months.
After a couple of days’ delay, which in large measure was due to the need to get an extension of our Indian visas, an entirely unpleasant bureaucratic experience, as of the time of writing, we are planning to leave from Daman, a hill town at an elevation of 2,300 meters, unless we continue in neutral gear at the urging of our hosts and stay for Shabbat.
After a couple of days of sightseeing, being in a UNESCO World Heritage Site, we shifted into a neutral gear an became tourists. There are in Katmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur literally thousands of temples, stupas, monasteries scattered around narrow alley ways and the famous Durbar Square which dates back many centuries. Besides the Nepalese Buddhist and Hindu temples, there are a large number of beautiful Tibetan temples with lamas in Burdgundy robes, all in a setting of east meets west and everything in between. As might be expected there are countless shopping and eating opportunities and the gamut of places from simple rooms in guest houses to five star hotels, all in a valley that on a clear day seems magical and on others, it’s easy to see, or should it be not seen why it’s one of the most polluted cities in the world.
While we did a lot walking, riding buses and taking an occasional taxi, we changed gears, not that of bicycles, but immersing ourselves in a humanitarian organization from Israel, called Tevel B’Tzedek that is doing some marvelous work here. http://www.tevelbtzedek.org/ We have literally moved in with them over the last six nights, since Alison in particular wanted to learn about the organization and to participate in trips that started very early in the morning to see firsthand in the field the fruits of their labour which indeed are impressive. Alison also had some meaningful input into some organization development issues with TbT, which is one area of her expertise.
Their achievements to date are substantial in terms of empowering youth and women, education, agriculture and early child development which can be seen from the numerous school and extra-curricular programs, arts activities, women’s groups, farming, bio gas, sanitation, water supply and health education programs which they have established.
TbT adopts a holistic approach by working closely with established community leaders and partners, and has 23 Nepali staff who manage and operate programs throughout the year. Each year, TbT operates both long and short term volunteer programs. The four month ‘’Full Program’’ operates twice a year with two cohorts and the 5 week ‘’Backpackers’’ program consists of 6 cohorts between October and May. TbT conducts extensive orientation sessions for the volunteers to prepare them for their placements including Nepali language, culture, history, site visits, workshops and discussions on Jewish values and responsible volunteerism.
During our field visits we saw terraced fields of various crops that only a couple of years ago were dormant. TbT brought water from nearly a half kilometer, introduced wells, toilets that are linked to a system to produce bio-gas for cooking year around, concrete enclosures for animals, and a new fishpond. We met with various youth, womens ‘groups, saw programs for blind kids, day care centers, school programs and much more that were TbT’s initiatives. Perhaps most moving was our living and at times participating with 20 young very energetic and enthusiastic Israeli’s who are going through a one month intensive training program, that includes learning Nepalese, prior to them going into the field for three months.
After a couple of days’ delay, which in large measure was due to the need to get an extension of our Indian visas, an entirely unpleasant bureaucratic experience, as of the time of writing, we are planning to leave from Daman, a hill town at an elevation of 2,300 meters, unless we continue in neutral gear at the urging of our hosts and stay for Shabbat.
Friday, March 04, 2011
Pokhara to Kathmandu and the 99% solution
The distance from Pokhara to Kathmandu is only 200 kms but when traveling by bicycle, these measurements can be deceptive, since they don’t take into consideration the terrain and that we have been on the road for over two months, with hardly a rest day, which as rare as they are consist of hours of walking and climbing, as fueled by the inexhaustible sights at the expense of depleting our energies. All this as an introduction to the conclusion that after 2,069 kms, and having reached the village of Naubise, we decided to cover the last 26 kms to the city of Kathmandu by hitchhiking in the back of a small pickup truck, a bumpy and hair raising experience as we crawled up the steep mountain, leading to the rim of the Kathmandu valley. The road is steep and tortuous, but what makes it daunting, is the continuous stream of trucks, buses, cars and motor cycles fighting for space on a narrow road traveling in both directions, often slowing to a crawl, and at each hairpin turn we could see the traffic ahead of us snaking up and down, like a train, hardly an inviting experience for two loaded, and admittedly tired cyclists. While disappointed, I was not entirely unhappy to have opted for the one per cent solution.
After Pokhara it was 71 undulating kms to the foot of the hill town village of Bandipur, the last 8 kms of which is straight up hill and we had already done about 30kms of climbing, we took the local shuttle truck which to our delight was just leaving. The village perched on a level portion of a high hill, became one of our favourite stops, as we enjoyed not only the uninterrupted views of the Himalayas in the distance, but the fact that this one street village with a handful of guest houses, with no car or motorcycle traffic, is a well preserved “museum” like Newari community, carrying on life as it has done so for centuries, warm and welcoming, almost oblivious to even to the in-your-face, small group of Japanese tourists, who with giant telephoto lenses, were taking pictures in unison one afternoon.
Apparently Bandipur for centuries was an important trading center on route from Tibet to India, and traders built two to four storey dwellings from local and imported hard woods, with shops on the main floor and accommodations above. Some 70% of the buildings in the village are original and many are well preserved, even though some 50 years ago, the highway below diverted the traffic, which has led to the community’s decline, hence a magical window onto the past, with women carrying heavy loads of wood or fresh grown produce, children playing amongst the handful of temples and the occasional goat or cattle that passes by. We explored the track up several hundred meters to get the best view of the snow-capped Himalaya and the lows down the valley, with verdant agriculture. The two nights spent in a family home with a marvellous view of the valley were fair compensation for the basic nature of the facilities.
The early morning ride downhill to the main highway was exhilarating in the cool mountain air with the clearest views of the high Himalayas, taking nearly an hour to cover the eight kms. The constant breaking and the alternating coolness in the shade and warmth in the sun invited us to stop frequently. As competitive as I can be, I did not mind being beaten by the many groups of young kids on the way to school who raced us running downhill but had the advantage of taking the near vertical footpaths as we slowly followed the serpentine road.
While in Pokhara, the manager of our first class hotel recommended that we stop in Malekhu, where there were fine accommodations and we were looking forward to a goodnights sleep, as more than half of the 76 kms we covered were uphill. Alas, the first place that looked somewhat inviting was full and we were forced to settle at the Midway Garden Restaurant, in a room with cold shower, that I will leave to the imagination, although at about three bucks a night, was decent value.
The upside of the Midway Garden was that its restaurant opened at 5 a.m. for hungry truckers so that we were able to get going early in the morning, in anticipation of riding to Naubise, the last stop before Kathmandu. Although only 46 kms with lots of steep short hills, we were ready to settle for the night and it took some searching and the intervention of a very friendly English speaking man, who took it as a principle of national pride to ferret out for us the two potential places to stay for the night, both of which seemed worse than the room the night before since they had no nearby toilet facilities and were no doubt appeared darker and dingier since most days, electricity is unavailable for about half the time.
We had a late lunch to consider our options, and as the day was at its warmest and our mood at the lowest, we decided to flag a bus or truck down, when a driver for a local hospital picked us up and we covered the last one percent of our journey, in the back of his truck. Not entirely out of altruism, he dropped us at a guest house, no doubt anticipating a commission, but after a near two hour in ride we were happy to settle near the heart of the main tourist district in Kathmandu, the Thamel, and I managed to salvage some of my pride by striking a hard bargain and we moved out the following morning to a comfortable hotel next door, after carefully considering a myriad of options.
Still, for the first day, having been dropped in a middle of this teaming metropolis, I went through a bit of emotional adjustment asking the question “where am I?” an experience I am sure many tourist ask as they travel on organized tours and not having been connected to the land that they traverse. The experience reminded me of the many times when we took walks in the evening in the small villages of India, when many a local out of amazement would ask, “where are you from?”, as if we were Martians who have landed on the planet. When we told them we are from Canada, they probed further to find out how we got there and to be even more surprised to be told that we came on bicycles.
Happy cycling or being where ever you find yourself or others find you,
andrew
After Pokhara it was 71 undulating kms to the foot of the hill town village of Bandipur, the last 8 kms of which is straight up hill and we had already done about 30kms of climbing, we took the local shuttle truck which to our delight was just leaving. The village perched on a level portion of a high hill, became one of our favourite stops, as we enjoyed not only the uninterrupted views of the Himalayas in the distance, but the fact that this one street village with a handful of guest houses, with no car or motorcycle traffic, is a well preserved “museum” like Newari community, carrying on life as it has done so for centuries, warm and welcoming, almost oblivious to even to the in-your-face, small group of Japanese tourists, who with giant telephoto lenses, were taking pictures in unison one afternoon.
Apparently Bandipur for centuries was an important trading center on route from Tibet to India, and traders built two to four storey dwellings from local and imported hard woods, with shops on the main floor and accommodations above. Some 70% of the buildings in the village are original and many are well preserved, even though some 50 years ago, the highway below diverted the traffic, which has led to the community’s decline, hence a magical window onto the past, with women carrying heavy loads of wood or fresh grown produce, children playing amongst the handful of temples and the occasional goat or cattle that passes by. We explored the track up several hundred meters to get the best view of the snow-capped Himalaya and the lows down the valley, with verdant agriculture. The two nights spent in a family home with a marvellous view of the valley were fair compensation for the basic nature of the facilities.
The early morning ride downhill to the main highway was exhilarating in the cool mountain air with the clearest views of the high Himalayas, taking nearly an hour to cover the eight kms. The constant breaking and the alternating coolness in the shade and warmth in the sun invited us to stop frequently. As competitive as I can be, I did not mind being beaten by the many groups of young kids on the way to school who raced us running downhill but had the advantage of taking the near vertical footpaths as we slowly followed the serpentine road.
While in Pokhara, the manager of our first class hotel recommended that we stop in Malekhu, where there were fine accommodations and we were looking forward to a goodnights sleep, as more than half of the 76 kms we covered were uphill. Alas, the first place that looked somewhat inviting was full and we were forced to settle at the Midway Garden Restaurant, in a room with cold shower, that I will leave to the imagination, although at about three bucks a night, was decent value.
The upside of the Midway Garden was that its restaurant opened at 5 a.m. for hungry truckers so that we were able to get going early in the morning, in anticipation of riding to Naubise, the last stop before Kathmandu. Although only 46 kms with lots of steep short hills, we were ready to settle for the night and it took some searching and the intervention of a very friendly English speaking man, who took it as a principle of national pride to ferret out for us the two potential places to stay for the night, both of which seemed worse than the room the night before since they had no nearby toilet facilities and were no doubt appeared darker and dingier since most days, electricity is unavailable for about half the time.
We had a late lunch to consider our options, and as the day was at its warmest and our mood at the lowest, we decided to flag a bus or truck down, when a driver for a local hospital picked us up and we covered the last one percent of our journey, in the back of his truck. Not entirely out of altruism, he dropped us at a guest house, no doubt anticipating a commission, but after a near two hour in ride we were happy to settle near the heart of the main tourist district in Kathmandu, the Thamel, and I managed to salvage some of my pride by striking a hard bargain and we moved out the following morning to a comfortable hotel next door, after carefully considering a myriad of options.
Still, for the first day, having been dropped in a middle of this teaming metropolis, I went through a bit of emotional adjustment asking the question “where am I?” an experience I am sure many tourist ask as they travel on organized tours and not having been connected to the land that they traverse. The experience reminded me of the many times when we took walks in the evening in the small villages of India, when many a local out of amazement would ask, “where are you from?”, as if we were Martians who have landed on the planet. When we told them we are from Canada, they probed further to find out how we got there and to be even more surprised to be told that we came on bicycles.
Happy cycling or being where ever you find yourself or others find you,
andrew
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