Hoofing It...

The End...is only just the beginning....

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sat, 18 Dec 2010 23:22:00 +0000

Bewildered by his inability to win

We are tired. The constant state of awareness and consciousness that makes me feel so alive when travelling has worn me down after five months of being on the road and I think we can both honestly say that we are ready to come home. Our original plans of heading to Indonesia after Thailand have been put on hold to save for another time when we have fresher legs and more nimble enthusiasm (a honeymoon perhaps?!). Travelling for this long and under these conditions is a lot different from “vacationing” as Kaitlyn sometimes forgets and life on the road, in a constant state of movement and ambiguity, has a way of catching up to you. Our experiences have been truly amazing and unforgettable and we would not have done anything differently at all. To have had this opportunity to see so much and actually live out my own personal dream to travel around the world is something we are incredibly grateful for, the memories of which we will have for the rest of our lives together.

Thailand street food

We have spent the past few weeks, in whatever free time we have (ha!) and whenever we are privileged enough to have Wi-Fi, scouring the internet for potential career opportunities, trying to lay what little of a foundation for our future together we can being on the other side of the globe. Our return to the “real world” is officially upon us and we are both excited to get started on our lives together and sad that our once in a lifetime journey together is coming to an end. It’s been a bittersweet finale to the trip, but a welcomed transition back to the familiar nevertheless.
After a few days spent moseying around on the Thai beaches under unfortunately overcast skies (Phuket was quite expensive and touristy and disappointingly not even that nice at all), we took a ferry over to famous Phi Phi Island, the picturesque setting of the movie The Beach starring Leonardo Dicaprio. The island was devastated after the tsunami and is only now starting to get back to its once over-touristy roots. It was much more backpacker friendly and a lot more beautiful and natural a setting to spend a few lazy days.

We hung out on the beach on the one sunny day we had and soaked up the rays and crystal clear waters along Long Beach. We hiked up to the lookout point for a beautiful view of the incredible island. After a couple of days of overcast and one of perfect beach sun, we reluctantly caught the ferry back to the mainland city of Krabi.

It was next time for Malaysia as we began our descent southwards towards our final destination city of Kuala Lumpur. After a stopover in the allegedly nice island city of Georgetown on Penang, we decided to head into the country’s interior to a place called the Cameron Highlands to visit a tea plantation, honeybee farm, and pick some strawberries. Unfortunately, this area is also one of the most visited by Malaysian tourists and the one and a half lane road leading in and around the area made for quite the congestion. We literally sat on our minibus, a mere ten kilometers away from our destination, for two hours in a slow crawl forwards. After taking an enjoyable half-day tour of the aforementioned places, there really wasn’t much else to do so we packed onto a bus and headed to Kuala Lumpur. After a close encounter at a hostel involving some bedbugs (we moved places once they were discovered), we explored Chinatown and the rest of the city, including visiting a 7-story mall complete with roller coaster, bowling alley, and movie theater (and even treated ourselves to a bowl-off and a movie…splurge!).

We next headed south towards Singapore as our last new city on our tour of the globe. It was without a doubt my favorite city on the entire trip, an amazing blending of cultures set amongst a background of complete modernity. I’m a sucker for all things Southeast Asian and this island/city/country was just indescribably amazing. We stayed in Little India, the backpacker area though still extremely quite expensive, but managed to cover the entire city mostly on foot, also taking advantage of the incredibly clean and efficient subway system.

We checked out Orchard Road, a very posh and happening area complete with purple Christmas lights and tons of high-end shopping, walked along the water at Clarke Quay another posh area complete with upscale shopping and tons of bars, visited the Raffles Hotel, home of the infamous Singapore Sling (unfortunately it was early in the morning so we didn’t partake) and ventured along the Esplanade, complete with the highest observational ferris wheel in the world. Needless to say, Singapore was beautiful, modern and expensive, but definitely a place we plan on returning to when we can afford it!

We then headed back to Kuala Lumpur on an overnight bus to avoid having to shell out a bunch of cash for a place to stay in expensive Singapore. We arrived at our luxurious 5-star hotel for a much needed day of comfort spent at an actual nice place, an incredibly thoughtful and generous engagement gift from my Godmother Aunt Pat and Uncle Rick, for our final evening abroad before catching our flight back home at 2:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Needless to say, we napped on the pool chairs, enjoyed the delicious breakfast and soaked up the luxury for the complete 24 hours! After checking out we explored Kuala Lumpur a little more and went to see the Petronas Towers, the tallest twin towers in the world. (allegedly...they don't look very tall!)

Malaysia and Singapore are very unique countries. For one, with their close proximity to Thailand and large Indian population, you would think that the food would be somewhat spicy. Erroneous. In fact, Malaysia is actually turning out to be one the more difficult places to eat for the both of us. They seem to have an infatuation with seafood and even use it as an unfortunate garnish on seemingly every dish. Worse still, there seems to lack a consistency in what each dish actually consists of. Kaitlyn, with her love for culinary adventures, was even turned off after ordering a noodle dish that of course included mashed up fish…including the bones.

As we sit on one of our three plane rides today, the big 14-hour jaunt from Shanghai to New York, it is hard to believe that we really are headed home. Kaitlyn is giddy with excitement to see her “baby” as she continues reminding me (her dog, Elvis) and I’m sure all of you as well! We have both missed being able to see and talk to our friends and family regularly over the past few months. We appreciate everyone following along with us on our grand adventures and look forward to catching up with everyone soon…although we may need a few days to recover from the jet lag which I’m sure we are going to experience!

A store at a mall in Kuala Lumpur...a sign?!?!

Musings…

The Kuala Lumpur airport is located 70 kilometers outside the city. That seems pretty dumb to me…

My beard is pretty puffy nowadays and it affects my sleep. It often becomes itchy for no reason and gives the side of my head a bizarre elevation when asleep.

The Chinese airline offers wine and beer for free…who knew the Chinese were such lovers of the booze!

Night Markets and Samoan Children

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 15:27:00 +0000

Slurpees!

One of my chores growing up was to mow our sprawling lawn once a week using a push lawnmower. The task would take me four to five hours in the agonizing humidity of the Florida summers, going both up and down the hill in our backyard leading into the lake. Having finally completed my weekend duty, I would return inside my house, drenched from sweat and hating my wretched teenaged life more than ever, dying of thirst. I’ll never forget how refreshing the lemonades were that my mother always seemed to have waiting for me at the end of those days. They were amazingly delicious, made even the more enjoyable from my previous hours of physical anguish and exertion.

We got to Thailand on November 23. Our exodus from India and entry into the wonderland that is Thailand was, to say the least, just like one of those tall lemonades after our month-long of Indian chaos. Before entry however, India was reluctant to let us leave from its filthy grips. One late flight led to another and then after a horrendous two hours spent sitting in the stagnant air of the plane, not having left the gate due to the incompetence of some Indian airline employee having forgotten to get “some papers” that were apparently critical to our departure, we missed our connecting flight to Chiang Mai. I diligently recorded the whole debacle, ready to go all YouTube on their ass, fully expecting to wage a battle to fight for our money back. Somehow, miraculously, the Thai Indian Air employee who met us in Bangkok, even despite his limited English, swiftly took care of the situation, booked us a flight out for the next morning, gave us meal vouchers and even put us up at a luxurious hotel for the evening. This was our first taste of Thailand, a literal and figurative breath of fresh air from everything that is India.

We arrived in Chiang Mai the next day (after seeing what appeared to be Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen at the Bangkok airport- swoon!) and headed off to explore the city. On my previous visit to Thailand five years ago, I was unable to get to Chiang Mai, the former capital in the north of the country of which everyone has just seemed to rave about. After checking out a market and a few temples, we headed into a tourist office to inquire about some activities. Five hundred dollars later, we were booked up for the next couple of weeks.

We spent Thanksgiving in the middle of a jungle in northern Thailand during our trek into a Karen hill tribe village. We rode bareback on elephants and spent the evening drinking some beers with a couple of fellow Americans and a German guy hiking along with us and our Karen guide, the self-proclaimed “Michael Jackson” who had an affinity for John Denver’s hit song “Country Roads,” singing it over and over again. We had a great time, and I even recall eating a bit of frog Michael Jackson speared along the river’s edge. It was definitely a memorable Thanksgiving…at least what I can remember of it!

After two days and a night spent in the jungle (and a dozen beers later), we emerged back in Chiang Mai ready to embark upon our next activity, a one-day Thai cooking class, aka Kaitlyn’s most favorite day ever. I must admit, it actually was quite an enjoyable experience getting a hands-on lesson in the art of Thai cooking, a cuisine that I could finally throw my support behind. Along with two other couples, we each made our own portions of such dishes as spring rolls, chicken satay, pad thai, two soups, desserts, and thai curries. It was a deliciously filling afternoon.

Aside from trekking into the hilltribe villages and its famous cuisine, Chiang Mai is also renowned for its night market, an experience that I hate to admit, got the best of me. I was like a fat kid in a bakery, voraciously buying up everything I could, much to Kaitlyn’s delight that my reluctance to spend money was abating. Why the sudden change of sentiment? Prior to our night market splurge, we sat down and took a long look at our finances so far on the trip to better ascertain our current monetary status. After totaling everything up, including our return ticket home, we are on track to be far under budget for our trip, a cause worthy of finally being able to overindulge in some spending. We have taken 13 flights (including leaving and returning to the U.S., just prior to Christmas mind you!) totaling a mere $3,600 each. Not bad at all! That in conjunction with our daily budget puts us far under the $15,000 we budgeted for this five-month endeavor, which is a good thing by all accounts considering we have no place to live and no jobs once we get back! (So if you know of anybody in need of an awesome lawyer or handsome writer, let us know!)

With bad decisions made at the night market and subsequent Sunday street market, we now have an extra bag to tote around, about the size and girth of a Samoan child, which is just awesome. We haphazardly packed it all in, said good bye to Chiang Mai (one of our favorite places so far), and headed to Bangkok on a long bus ride. The net day we were heading to Cambodia to visit the ruins of Angkor Wat, a sprawling temple complex surrounded by lush jungle. After getting bamboozled by the dubious people in charge of our transportation from Bangkok to Siem Reap, Cambodia, we finally settled in.

Siem Reap, the town on the outskirts of the Angkor Wat ruins, was quite a bizarre little place. It had its own night market (curses!) and numerous massage/fish spas, where fish nibble at the dead skin on your feet while you are given a beer and sit atop said fish tank like a wading moron. ATMs in Cambodia also only distribute U.S. dollars, which is somehow their currency of choice and they use their own currency strictly as change from the dollars (4,000 riel = $1). Things were dirt cheap here, almost humorously so, as menu items were listed between less than a dollar to a whopping $2, yet still with the understanding that we were somehow getting ripped off because these were the tourist prices! Our glorious hotel room, complete with fridge, tv and air conditioning cost us a staggering $12 and our return bus trip back to Bangkok a dumbfounding $8 (especially considering we paid $40 each for the exact route there!)

After enjoying a much needed meal after our ten hour ordeal of a bus ride into the city (and eating it beside an older gentleman that appeared to be purchasing a Cambodian girl from two questionable males seated in front of him), we headed off to explore the Cambodian night market (so what…I like night markets, there, I said it!). Some $20 later (an exorbitant amount by Cambodian standards), our Samoan travel companion grew in size. The next morning, we rented bicycles and went off in exploration of the temples of Angkor Wat.

Riding bicycles all day for 30 kilometers or so didn’t at first appeal to me. However, thanks to Kaitlyn’s urging to do so, it turned out to be one of the most unforgettable experiences of this trip. It was absolutely amazing to first off, ride a bicycle through an Asian city with all the surrounding chaos. It was exhilarating to almost get run off the road at every traffic signal and watch your life flash before your eyes! Once we got to the temples however, nothing can really describe how incredible it was to ride through the peaceful pathways leading in between each ancient temple. It was surreal and tranquil to see these magnificent sights in such a natural way. Aside from being the second most extraordinary ruins we have ever seen (nothing can compare to the Pyramids), the cycling experience (for only $2!) was definitely one of those things we will always remember.

The next day we headed back to Bangkok and spent the following day exploring the city. This morning, we caught a plane to Phuket to begin our final descent southward towards Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and our return to America on December 18. It has been a long journey and I think we are both ready to get back home and embark on the next phase of our lives together. It’s been an experience we wouldn’t trade for anything in the world especially getting to share it all with one another and we have been happy to share it with you all. We really appreciate you following along on our (mis)adventures. We are both exhausted so I apologize for the lapse in posts. I will definitely post again before our final departure and probably again once more to sum everything up. We hope you had a great Thanksgiving and look forward to seeing you soon!

When the Goan gets tough, the tough gets Goan…to the bathroom!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 16:06:00 +0000

We have spent the past five days here in beautiful Palolem, Goa, India. The crescent beach, surrounded by swaying palm trees, is blessed with unforgettable sunsets and utter relaxation. The beach is gorgeous, yet undeniably purely Indian, as cows saunter along the sand, dogs and children chase each other into the waves, and locals hawk their cheap wares to you (seemingly every two minutes until you learn to either completely ignore them, pretend you’re deeply involved in some marvelous novel, or look at them with such complete and utter contempt and scorn that they are afraid to approach you once more) after finding their own nice little spot in the sand to go ahead and sneak a quick little urination in before getting back to work harassing you. Ahh India….

rickshaw ride in the rain

After a seemingly endless 24-hour period of transporting ourselves by every means available (like seriously, we took a rickshaw through the pouring rain to the airport, then an airplane from Udaipur to Mumbai, a rickshaw from the airport, a train to another spot in town, walking for miles, a 16 hour overnight bus ride to Goa, then another two hour bus ride to Palolem), tensions were understandably high. We headed to the beach with all our stuff and found a seemingly nice little place to get some needed food and relax for a minute (and get Kaitlyn a drink…or two). We then found a decent little place to stay for the next four nights, unpacked our stuff, and headed back out to the beach to watch the sunset and enjoy a “sunset drink” as Kaitlyn has dubbed it. Everything was just fine and couldn’t be better! After drinks, we headed out to the “town” (a dirt road with shops and restaurants) to try some of the famous Goan cuisine.
With my taste buds having not matured since the sixth grade (I’ll take some chicken nuggets please), I was proud of myself for deciding that I once had chicken vindaloo while in Tallahassee and I liked it so I was actually looking forward to trying some authentic Indian chicken vindaloo, one of the most authentically Goan meals available. “Good for me,” I thought, “I am growing up!” One of the restaurants we passed along the way just happened to be called “Casa Fiesta,” specializing in Mexican food, which is something that Kaitlyn just loves. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity for some “Mexican food” while in India after eating curry after curry (and noodle after noodle for me!) so we decided to have dinner there. Plus, being the schemer that I am, I figured that Kaitlyn would order something Mexican and that I could dazzle her with my new found courage in trying an Indian dish. I could, for once in the past month, be the one to rub it in HER face that I ate Indian and she, in fact, did not.

The waiter came and we placed our orders. “I’ll have some guacamole and chips and quesadillas,” she said, as I held back my elation at what was about to follow. “I’ll take the chicken vindaloo my good sir,” I proudly declared, “Take that Bagnato!”

Our dishes came and at once, I knew something was awry. Call it buyer’s remorse over not selecting the chicken fajitas or call it a sixth sense about what was going to happen over the next three days, there just wasn’t something right about my chicken vindaloo. I ate it all anyway (mostly because I just couldn’t bear to eat the alternative of crow!).

I woke up in the middle of the night several times. I will spare you the details of my life over the next few days. Needless to say, it was not pretty and my “vomit streak,” as Jerry Seinfeld would say, came to a very unfortunate demise that evening (and I can’t even blame it on a black and white cookie!).

Kaitlyn was the absolute best nurse I could have ever asked for, which makes me wonder just how amazingly good her sister Brittany must be since she actually is a nurse! Her dad was also a life saver in helping us determine what prescriptions we needed to help piece me back together again. After two days of taking care of me, unfortunately, Kaitlyn then started feeling ill herself. We spent Sunday cooped up on our bed inside our little beachside shack underneath the fan, too lazy and sick to move, playing games of Phase Ten in between drifting off to sleep.

Now, Monday, we are both feeling great again though my appetite, and the weight I could already barely afford to lose, is far from back. After two trips into town to the pharmacy to get some drugs as prescribed by Dr. Bagnato (I don’t really understand the concept of a pharmacy anymore. It seems that overseas, anyone can just walk in and get whatever medication they want, no questions asked, and for really cheap. Kinda makes you wonder about what sort of pharmaceutical cabal goes on in America), I think we’re back on track to continue our journey into the world, and just in time too as tomorrow morning we are off to Chiang Mai, Thailand!

Jaisalmer

Before we got to Goa, we of course hit up several other Indian cities along the way. We tried to see as much as possible in a short amount of time. Unfortunately, we were both also getting very sick of India and Indians in general so my descriptions and recollections of each place may seem like a blur. Nevertheless, I will try to briefly recount each place for you below:

Jodhpur, “the blue city” – Pretty crappy, overrated, don’t waste your time in ever going, and, to top it all off, not even very blue at all!

Jaisalmer, “the golden city” – Very cool, especially for India. It’s a desert fort with a living city still inside of it. We were less than impressed however after being to the Middle East and inside countless medinas, all older and more enchanting. A very cool place for a change of pace of India though.

Pushkar, a visit to the infamous “Camel Festival” – India in a nutshell. A crazy swath of humanity intermingling with animals, walking around barefoot, pushing and praying to countless gods. For us, it was a bearable eight hours before getting the hell out of there!

Udaipur, “the city of lakes” and dubbed India’s most romantic city – Definitely worth checking out! It was still real India, but at a far more relaxed and manageable pace. It was pretty, definitely, but I’m not so sure about anything in India being “romantic”….other than proposing at the Taj Mahal, of course!

Mumbai – We literally walked through it en route to Goa. It was definitely much more bearable than Delhi and shows promise of a future, i.e. there weren’t many cows wandering around aimlessly.

Joe had been grooming himself as the next winner of the moustache competition at the Pushkar Camel festival, but...

after seeing his competition, he kinda chickened out!

After more than a month of being here in India and finally being able to visit the places I have wanted to the most for all my life, I can honestly say that I’m spent and I’ve had quite enough. I really can’t describe this place whatsoever. It’s chaos incarnate, a flurry of flamboyance, and the safest place in the world to be a cow. You’ve personally kicked my ass India, albeit the chicken vindaloo or of sheer exhaustion. You’re a sweltering place in November and I can’t even imagine what you’re like in the “hot” months. You’ve taken our pictures for God knows what reason, told us “good price” one too many times, spit incessantly, stared at us, touched us, and made us sleep atop what were surely filthy sheets all too often. You’ve bobbled your head in an ambiguous manner for the last time. You’ve made me hate my life at times but then gave me the capacity to understand just how lucky I am to be alive and to be American. You’ve shown me the power of faith in something bigger than myself, something greater than the here and now. You’ve made me appreciate cleanliness, expectations, manners, courtesy, good service, safe food and potent water.

You’ve taught us the same lesson Ralphie's kid brother learns in “A Christmas Story” when he decides to lick the frozen pole outside his school. We were always curious about doing it, were told what to expect, but wanted to try it out anyway, the consequences of which we will still feel for months long after we’re freed from your grip…

You’ve been an incredible experience of which neither of us will ever forget!

Take this upcoming holiday to think about just how much we really do have to be thankful for and how lucky we are to have been born as Americans. We definitely will be! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Head Bobbles and Marriage Proposals

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 11:08:00 +0000

What an incredibly eventful past two weeks we have had here in India. After spending a few days in Rishikesh, the "yoga capital of the world" where Kaitlyn was able to get her stretch on twice a day while I made friends with the resident monkeys surrounding the ashram we stayed in, we next stopped off in Haridwar, one of the holiest cities for Hindus located on the Ganges River. Aside from the indescribable chaos that is India, we have recently been joined (at last!) by Kaitlyn's parents. Their arrival has come at an opportune time as well since both Kaitlyn and I were nearing our wits end in dealing with the Indians. Our patience (mine especially!) was wearing thin with the endless honking of mopeds and rickshaws and harrassment by storekeepers. In fact, my frustration toppled over one day as I "accidentally" kicked a guy on a moped and Kaitlyn "inadvertantly" pushed a bicycle rickshaw out of her way. This whole country is truly a crazy ass place where nothing makes any sense whatsoever. So needless to say, the arrival of the Bagnatos was impeccable timing. Aside from the incredible hotels they were treating us to and finally being able to sleep in a comfortable bed without having to wonder if the sheets were clean or not (or even present at all), it was definitely refreshing to get a taste of home and family life once again, not to mention being able to share in all the squalor and craziness of India together...and if that meant having to see it from plush hotels and resorts while being served tea, well dammit, it's a sacrifice we were both willing to make!

We spent our first day together touring the sights of New Delhi, all of us still in a slumbered state from our middle of the night awakening upon their arrival. Early that morning Kaitlyn and I headed to the U.S. Embassy where she completed the final steps of paperwork to officially become a lawyer and was sworn in by a notary at the embassy, something I'm sure not too many lawyers can brag about! The next day we boarded a flight to Varanasi, one of the oldest living cities in the world and the holiest place for Hindus. Our guide was fantastic, taking us to Sarnath, a nearby town where the Buddha first began his teachings, and to the Ganges River where we were able to watch a Hindu ceremony taking place along the river's edge.

The next day we were brought back to the river for a boat ride offering amazing views of the bathing Hindus just in time to see the sunrise and see two bodies being burned in the crematory pyres along the banks. It was definitely an unforgettable experience! From there, it was back to Delhi and then onwards to Agra to see the Taj Mahal...Oh, and also to ask Kaitlyn to marry me!

The Proposal
Back in Istanbul, I had snuck out of our room one night when Kaitlyn was fast asleep (aka snoring) to Skype with her parents. They just happened to be online and thankfully, both happened to be sitting there together, naturally expecting Kaitlyn to be on the other end of the call. Instead, they got me...shaking and awkward. I asked for permission, they granted it (thank god!), and then I told them my plan. Kaitlyn's sister, Brittany, had already been in on it and helped me out by being the caretaker of the ring since our departure. I asked if they could bring it with them to India where I planned on popping the question in front of the Taj. I had no idea what to expect once we got to Agra, nor how it would happen or when it would happen. I just knew I wanted it to happen and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Kaitlyn. I was freaking out for the better part of two days prior to our arrival in Agra, gradually becoming shakier (and gassier!) as we got closer and closer to the evening. We were only in town for one night and one morning so it had to be done sometime in there. I knew that she would kill me if I did it in a public forum so I knew it wasn't a smart move to do it in front of the thousands of people visiting the Taj the next morning. I only had that evening, Friday November 5.

After a visit to the Red Fort and an introduction by our tour guide as to the history of the Taj Mahal and its founder Shah Jahan (as our tour guide repeatedly pointed out), imprisoned by his son in a tower, forced to live out the rest of his days overlooking the memorial he built for his beloved second wife, we headed back to our rooms to shower and get ready for dinner that evening. I took the shakiest shower in my life and put on some of the nice clothes the Bagnatos brought us for all the fancy times we'd need them for, and then headed out to our gorgeous balcony that overlooked the Taj Mahal to wrap my head around the logistics of what was about to happen. Fireworks were going off all around the land below as this was Diwali, the Hindu new year, the festival of lights, and the absoultely unplanned perfect and memorable evening for an engagement. Kaitlyn finally finished getting ready and joined me outside to watch the fireworks and try to capture one going off behind the sillhouette of the Taj. I jokingly handed her a grotesque black leather bracelet, complete with dangling skulls and crossbones and asked her to wear it that evening since it matched her dress. [The bracelet itself was given to me by a woman at a store in Cappadocia, Turkey, who wanted to give me a souvenir after seeing my armful of bracelets from around the world. I, in turn, gave it to Kaitlyn, since it was obviously more her style than mine. She hasn't worn it at all really, because "it's just too special" she says, so it's been an ongoing joke between us since we acquired it.]

She laughed at the notion but indulged me in putting it on since it was black and did, in fact, match her dress. Upon strapping it on, she noticed something peculiar dangling from the silver skulls and brought it closer to her face for inspection. At that moment, I dropped to my knee, with trembles in full force and tears in my eyes, and managed to piece together a few coherent phrases of which I assume added up to be something good enough to have her say yes, but only after I had asked if she had "given any thought to my proposal."

The ring itself has tremendous meaning behind it as well. The setting is from the first ring my dad ever gave to my mom some fifty years ago combined with the diamond from her engagement ring. She told me that he would have loved Kaitlyn and wanted me to have it. I'm sure that he's smiling down from heaven right now, along with us on every step of our travels, happy to welcome such an amazing girl into the Statile family. Now, here we are...engaged!....and with a pretty cool story to remember it all by!

We next headed to the most incredible tent ever on the outskirts of Ranthambore National Park. We went on tiger hunting safaris and on our second morning there were one of the fortunate few jeeps to actually spot a tiger roaming the forest, yet another amazing experience we had and were treated to by the Bagnatos. There is no way to describe just how lucky and grateful we are to them for everything they have done for us and allowed us to share in alongside them over this past week. We got to see the luxurious side of India, something I never in my life thought I would ever have the privilege to see. We are going to miss our fancy dinners and comfortable beds of course, but we will mostly miss just being with them and all the laughs we shared in and chaos we endured together, memories we'll have forever.

After a final stop in Jaipur, the “pink city” at the heart of the Indian state of Rajasthan with all its palaces of maharajas and a visit to the breathtaking hillside Amber Fort aboard an elephant, we said our final good byes and we were once again off on our own to explore the rest of India.

We now have about two more weeks left in India to tour the rest of Rajasthan with stops in Jodhpur (the blue city), Jaisalmer (the golden city), Pushkar (to see the famous Camel Festival!), Udaipur (the city of lakes), Mumbai and Goa before heading to Thailand. Internet here is atrocious so please bear with us and we will try to post whenever we can. It will be a hectic couple of weeks as we try to see everything we can. Plus, we just love overnight bus rides, especially aboard the glorious Indian buses. Thanks for still following along with us....We'll be arriving home on December 18 just in time for Brittany to pick us up from the airport and all head to Albany for Christmas!

Cows, Monkeys, and Feces...Oh My!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 14:03:00 +0000

India is a tepid cesspool of humanity where absolutely nothing makes any sense whatsoever. There are normal toilets, yet no toilet paper; cows roaming the streets, eating from dumpsters, yet millions of people go starving; it is not just nine hours ahead of EST back home but an intriguing nine and a half; a place with a fierce hatred for their neighbor Pakistan yet with a fun little choreographed border closing ceremony, complete with handshakes and all. Shit, cow, dog, and/or human, lines the sometimes paved, sometimes pebbled, all the time dirty," sidewalks." In a matter of hours, your nostrils are treated to a cocktail of smog, engine fumes, and curries. Beggars tug at your clothes. Random altars are encountered dedicated to a Ganesha (an elephant-person hybrid), a Hanuman (a monkey-person hybrid) or another of the thousand-plus Hindu gods, with puja (an offering typically of food) set before it. Sadhus (Hindu mystics...aka homeless guys) roam the streets in their brightly orange cloth. Children ask you for money, monkeys jump from electrical poles, and svelte dogs prowl the alleyways, scrounging for whatever scraps they can find, whatever the tens of thousands of homeless people didn't get to. Shopkeepers constantly harass you for their "good price" goods while suspiciously friendly english speaking "students" want to help you along. "Tourist information" kiosks seem to be nothing more than tourist scams, even the most official looking offices. Taxi drivers, auto rickshaws and bicycle rickshaws, the caste system of the transportation world, desperately want to take us somewhere (typically, straight to one of these upstanding "tourist information" offices they happen to know about!). Indians gawk at you as you walk down the road, some sneaking pictures, while the more audacious asking to take a picture with you, then greatly desiring to shake your hand afterwards, leading to the obvious application of yet more hand sanitizer.

Welcome to India, the world's largest democracy, the birthplace of the Buddha, the land of the Hindus, Jains, and Sikhs, the home of the Dalai Lama, and the second most populous country on the planet. In short, it is, for all practical purposes, a cluster f!@#... and we adore it immensely!

After 36 hours of sleeplessness, three plane rides including a layover in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates, we finally landed in New Delhi on Wednesday, October 20, at 5:00 a.m. and promptly made our way to the train station, hoping to evade the chaos that is Delhi before sunrise. Unfortunately, we underestimated how truly crazy this place really is! After making our way to the train station, red-eyed and semi-conscious from the overnight flight(s), we amateurly succumbed to the touts outside the train station who were trying to "help" us along, taking us to "official" agencies that were going to book our fare for us northwards to Amritsar.

We were on our own, without a map, without any sleep, and without a clue in the world as to where we were or how to get to where we were going. The sun was now up and soon the streets would be mobbed. We went through the run-around that apparently is the travel system of India and, after three hours of deliberations about our next steps, we finally settled on a flight to Amritsar and train tickets to and from our next two destinations for the next ten days before meeting up with Kaitlyn's parents on November 1st in Delhi. We then walked a few blocks around the area, soon realizing that we were hungry. "Here goes nothing," I thought to myself, bracing for my first Indian meal for the next month. We found a little hole in the wall place with four items on the menu (which in hindsight, probably wasn't the wisest of choices for our first Indian meal!) and buckled down for the adventure ahead. As it turns out, whatever it was, really wasn't that bad and, 24 hours later, really wasn't too bad on our stomachs either!

We headed back to the airport for our 7:00 p.m. flight, exhausted from the unanticipated jaunt into Delhi and subsequent extra hours of forced consciousness.

Amritsar
This is the home of the Sikhs, "those guys with the turbans," and the centerpiece of the Punjab state of India. We decided to start our Indian escapade here, a place where we expected it to be a little more subdued, to ease into our host nation for the next month. What we got was a somewhat mixed bag. The craziness and plight surrounding us, rough to stomach even by our well-traveled standards, was, according to some other travelers we met, actually far more pleasant than other areas of India we will soon be looking forward to visiting! Now, in hindsight, having returned to Delhi, we must agree with that assessment! Amritsar, for whatever reason, seemed to lack a real tourist presence. Despite it being home to one of the most recognizable symbols of India, the Golden Temple, white people were rare to come across.

In between taking part in several photo shoots (though far less than our new paler British friend Laura), and enjoying three meals at what we perceived to be the safest option in town, Kaitlyn and I spent most of our two days in Amritsar inside the beautiful Golden Temple complex, a wondrously peaceful refuge from the world around it.

Built in the center of an artificial lake, the Golden Temple is at the heart of the Sikh faith. Before entering, our shoes and socks had to be removed and we were each given a head covering to wear while inside the complex. Sikh guardsmen, despite their imposing presence with large turbans, swords, and scowls, actually turned out to be some of the friendliest people we have met, eager to help answer any questions we had and proud to welcome us into their beautiful temple. Having been to several religious holy sites on our trip, I must say that the Golden Temple was by far the most welcoming to outsiders and even to locals, a testament to the Sikh faith.

The doors to the complex remain open 24 hours a day, as homeless people lined the far walkways, given a refuge for the evening. Free food and drink are also provided to any and all visitors to the complex as well as community lodging to both tourists and pilgrims alike. The temple itself was amazing, a sight we will always remember and a place I had always wanted to see. But perhaps more than anything, we will take with us just how amazingly welcoming the Sikhs were, how friendly and calm and genuine their believers were. We will remember an old man, clutching onto a cheaply framed photo of the Golden Temple, admiring it from every angle. This was his new prized possession, a souvenir he will take back with him to whatever village he was from, as a reminder of his visit to Amritsar, the holiest of holies, and quite possibly, the highlight of his simple and yet long life.

Next, we took a crammed and bumpy ride in the back of a jeep 45 minutes to the border with Pakistan to watch the border closing ceremony, what has become a major tourist draw. I remember how Kaitlyn freaked out having gone through the border of Israel before, justifiably of course, since we hear of so many problems and acts of terrorism in that country. Therefore, I decided to stay mum on how this was possibly an even riskier location for us to be, since the hatred between India and Pakistan is perhaps more intense than any two nations on the planet, not to mention the whole nuclear weapons capabilities they both have. Neglecting to mention any of this to Kaitlyn, we geared up for whatever was going to occur. Our car dropped us off one kilometer before the border where we had to walk with hundreds of Indians to the actual border site. We then had to pass through two Indian security checkpoints before we were fully upon the border. Much to our delight, we were told we were VIPs for the event since we were foreign tourists and were given a front row seat, as close to the actual border as possible. The event itself was unlike anything we had ever experienced before. Take a pep rally, complete with loud speakers blaring your school's fight song and a guy on a microphone trying to get everyone revved up, mix it with a closed off street with two iron-wrought gates, and throw in a bunch of guys with guns running around, goose stepping, taking turns yelling into a microphone while thousands of people cheer on in the stands surrounding the action while the same exact thing is taking place a few meters on the other side of one of the gates, only with far less people in the stands and quite a few more men wearing onesies. It was quite the show, a testament to the nationalism of both countries infused with a bizarrely choreographed bravado. If nothing else, it was definitely worth the trip out there to be able to peer into the other side and get a glimpse into Pakistan. The sad reality is that the show will likely soon be coming to an end as the tensions between the two nations begin to heat up and the ground that we walked upon will once again be surely off limits.

Mcleod Ganj

Next, we headed to the Indian state of Himichal Pradesh, adjacent to the Himalayas, and the home of the exiled Tibetan government and community, including the Dalai Lama. After taking the local Indian bus, complete with break down, flooded roads, and death defying twists and turns up cliffs, we arrived in one piece around midnight, ready to see a completely different side of India, notably and for the first time, the pleasure of clean air! We awoke the next morning and explored the tiny mountain hamlet around us, crossing paths with the countless saffron-clad Buddhist monks milling about. Every time I saw one wearing round glasses, my heart dropped with the anticipation that it might have just been the Dalai Lama himself, though, of course, it never was. It was our first peak at the Himalayas and Kaitlyn's first delve into the Buddhist world, both beautiful things! We trekked up a hill and saw an amazing waterfall, did some shopping, and explored the temple and Tibetan museum, learning about the plight of the people. It was definitely all a relaxing few days, a breath of fresh air, literally, from the fraction of India we had already come across in our brief stint in the country.
We caught an overnight bus back to Delhi, a really horrific overnight bus (we thought overnight buses were bad in Turkey!), and have now arrived in Rishikesh, the yoga capital of the world, for a few days before meeting with Kaitlyn's parents in one week, a reunion we both are extremely excited about! Neither of us have gotten sick (yet) and are in a constant state of sensory overload. New Delhi lacks one redeemable quality and is definitely not for the faint of heart. It will definitely be a treat to explore the rest of India with the Bagnatos...and in hotel rooms complete with toilet paper!

Moonpies and Memories

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 20:54:00 +0000

There is a chemical in Turkey called tryptophan, said to make you tired and relaxed after consuming large amounts of the meat. We've all been there before, after chowing down on our Thanksgiving cornucopia of goodness, wanting nothing more than to unbuckle our belts and lay docile...until dessert. In Turkey, there seems to be something in the air that has this same effect. The Turkish call it keyif, the art of quiet relaxation, and it seems to follow us everywhere we go on our journey through their amazing country.

After prying ourselves away from the utter contentment of Istanbul, five days later than planned, we finally hit the road to see what other gems the country had in store. We boarded an overnight bus to Pammukale, explored the geological marvel that lay before us, crystal clear water flowing downwards over the cliffside, the chemical reaction creating stark white shelves, and all set amidst the backdrop of ancient Roman ruins, what was once an ancient spa resort.

Next, we headed west for the day to explore Ephesus, what many say are the best preserved ruins of a Roman city outside of Rome. Having both been to the heart of the empire, we were somewhat reluctant to go out of our way to see even more ruins. At this point in our trip and being too cheap to ever join a guided tour or even splurge on an audio tour, all the ruins we come across seem to be one in the same: old, disheveled rocks that may or may not have been important to someone at some point (thank you Mr. Johns for making 10th grade world history so titillating!) In all actuality however, both Kaitlyn and I were pleasantly surprised at how well preserved Ephesus really was. After paying the once again exorbitant entry fee, we went inside the very impressive theatre, the largest of its kind in all of Turkey built to hold some 60,000 people inside. Next was the city itself with the amazing library at the forefront of the promenade still in its entirety. After two hours of eavesdropping in on some of the English speaking tour guides and dodging the plethora of Chinese tour groups randomly breaking out in song, we had our fill of various marble slabs and decided to call it a day and hop on a bus to the south, ready to relax once more, only this time with the crashing waves of the Mediterranean in our ears.

Fethiye, described as the most beautiful port side in all of Turkey, definitely stole our hearts. We found an amazing pension (or pansiyon as the Turkish call it, aka an "otel" [sp]) right beside the water, and offered 60 Turkish lira ($20 per night for us both)for two nights stay, including breakfast. After an assortment of wild gestures were exchanged between Kaitlyn and the lady in order to translate our offer, our hosts accepted and we settled in to a wonderful room complete with a balcony overlooking the water. The tourist season is quickly coming to an end along the Turkish Riviera, so haggling has been working quite well in our favor as of late. We were the only ones staying in the place and they were happy to have us (who wouldn't be really, I mean come on!).

We went for an amazing stroll along the water's edge and explored the many shops and restaurants inside the city center. We bought our own fish at the market and brought them to a restaurant where they cooked them and provided bread, sauces, and a salad for just 5 lira (about $3). We sat out on our balcony playing UNO and drinking wine and beer into the wee hours of the night. We befriended a stray dog and named him Doily (because Kaitlyn wiped her hands on his back after we fed him some leftovers). We took an eight hour, 12-island cruise in the waters surrounding Fethiye where opulent yachts with their fancy pants owners dock for days on end enjoying the Turkish keyif. We were given a delicious lunch, a stop at two islands whose only residents were a flock of gigantic rabbits, and an otherwise fantastic day for merely 25 lira (about $16) total. And, we made our share of retired British friends as well, since we were the only ones shy of 60 on the entire vessel! Fethiye was amazing, a truly relaxing and enjoyable (and cheap!) place to spend a few days.

Then, before heading directly to our next destination, Olympos, we decided to make a pit stop along the way at a place called Kas. Smaller and geared towards the higher end, it was nice and quaint but couldn't hold a candle to our beloved Fethiye.

The bus ride along this stretch of the coast has to be one of the most beautiful rides in the world. Last year, Kaitlyn and I drove along the Pacific Coast Highway from LA to San Francisco and were awed by the experience, both the anguish of some of the twists and turns and also the beauty of the coast. However, that drive was nothing compared to the road from Fethiye to Olympos, neither in awe-inspiration or gut-wrenchment from the bus drivers' talking on their cell phones while making nauseating turns along the cliffside. I highly recommend it! In addition, if you pay close enough attention, you may even be able to spot ancient Lycian tombs that are carved directly into the mountain sides, dotting the entire coast.

Finally, we landed in Olympos, a backpacker haven tucked away down side roads, far, far away from the Turkey we had been experiencing. We were driven by dolmus, a big van-type vehicle the thirteen or so kilometers downhill and over dirt roads into the town. Surrounded by pine trees and cliffs on either side, it felt like we were going to go camping in the Smokies rather than to relax along the Mediterranean. Famous for its "treehouses," we once again found us a deal (50 lira for the both of us, including breakfast and dinner!) and soon realized that we were, of course, the only ones staying at this particular place. It was one of the most lush environments we have ever been in, with our room being surrounded by orange, lemon, lime, peach, and pomegranate trees, ducks and chickens milling about, and peppers and squash spewing from the ground. We dropped our bags off, walked around the "town" (one dirt road consisting of numerous other treehouse type dwellings such as our own and two or so tiny convenience stores), quickly realized that it was going to be an interesting couple of days (and thus subsequently purchased some beer and a jug of wine) and headed back to our bungalow to get ready for dinner. At 7:00, we joined our hosts, the father (whose eyes never left the laptop computer sitting before him nor did he ever leave his chair in the four hours since our arrival), the mother (always moving to and fro, cooking the dinner and such), what was likely the son (a teenage boy who helped his mother), and an old man (who looked like the mother and other than one time trying to shake a tree to make a peach fall down stared off into space for most of the time we were there), none of which spoke any English whatsoever. After enjoying our truly home cooked meal in complete silence (other than the various noises emitting from the father's laptop), we were served some tea and one moon pie (yes, that little slice of heaven from our Twinkie days as kids) apiece. "I have a fun idea," I thought to myself as I often have fun ideas, and went to our room to grab our laptop. I then went to Google translate and told the mother how delicious her meal was, showing her the miraculously translated text, much to her utter delight at both the sentiment and technological achievement. I then thought to myself, "Self, you just made her day!" and then her, Kaitlyn and I tried to carry on what may have been the first English to Turkish "convergoogle" ever. It was a hoot, to say the least.

The next day we awoke to embark on an eight kilometer hike through the beach, an adjoining town, and up a mountain to visit Chimera, a bizarre cliffside with various fire spewing holes used by ancient seamen as a navigational aid and worshipped by the Lycian people living in the area. For whatever reason, the cliffside is literally on fire and has been forever. It was definitely pretty cool to see. On our way there, we borrowed (stole) a pomegranate off one of the many trees surrounding the roadside for lunch, yet another fruit to add to the list of lush vegetation in the area (and Kaitlyn's first misdemeanor as an attorney)!

Olympos itself was a very enchanting place. Aside from the omnipresent orchards and chilled out atmosphere, there were also some pretty wild ruins en route from our bungalow to the water's edge. With a river bed running through and into the sea, ancient ruins are both above you and to your side, where you are free to walk in and explore as if it were a ball pit at a Chuckie Cheese. The beach itself was one of the longest and prettiest I have come across on the Mediterranean as well, with cliffs creating a U-shaped beach and an ancient fortress in the hillside. It was really like some mystical land, far off the beaten track, that both time and high-end tourism have, for whatever reason, forgotten.

We were once again served dinner at 7:00 and ate once more in silence before Kaitlyn offered to help wash dishes, then directing me to finish the rinsing portion while she went to cut up a melon we had purchased to share with our new Turkish family for dessert. Both actions drew grand laughter from our hosts, seeing me, the bearded man washing the dishes and taking the orders to do so from the melon carving woman. In some sort of interesting fruit exchange, the mother then offered us two apples as a gesture of gratitude. Upon our departure this morning, she also handed us several un-ripened oranges plucked from the surrounding trees, hugged and kissed Kaitlyn, and made sure we got on the correct dolmus out of town, waving to us as we boarded the minibus. We liked that lady and somehow managed to communicate with one another despite our language and cultural barriers. It was one of those times we'll always remember, eating dinner with that Turkish family and forging a bond with them, that really makes travelling like this such an incredibly special experience.

In Fethiye we were walking around the market and Kaitlyn said to me, "You know, we have to start thinking about what we're going to get from here (meaning Turkey, because we have gotten ourselves a little souvenir from each country as a keepsake)." And I laughed to myself because it's so funny that for the past two and a half months, it's little silly things like that that occupy our thoughts. These are the big decisions we make nowadays along with where to eat and what time we should wake up each morning. The biggest decision I have to make is what bracelet I'm going to get to add to my ever growing collection upon my stinky left arm. We're actually living the dream; we're actually travelling around the world, I actually walked into my office one day and said that I had enough, never to return two weeks later. Oftentimes we'll pause and one of us will say to the other about how incredibly fortunate we are to be able to do this, how lucky we are to be here (wherever "here" is that day) and to be there together. We oftentimes are completely unaware of what day of the week it is nor have any reason to know the time (aside from the timer that goes off on Kaitlyn's watch every day at precisely 2:00 p.m. and of which we don't know how to get to stop). The point is that we are lucky and so fortunate to have this opportunity, have the means to do it, the time to do it in, and the support of family and friends (and loyal blog readers!) along every step of the way. We are learning so much about the world, about people, and most importantly, about one another, that we will take with us for the rest of our lives. We are incredibly grateful for all your support, in awe of the magnificence and amazingness each day we have on this trip brings us, and hope that one day your dreams, whatever they may be, will have the opportunity to be lived just like ours are.

We are currently sitting on another overnight bus from Antalya (the largest Turkish city on the Mediterranean but really nothing special) to Goreme, the central town in the Cappadocia region of Turkey where we will explore the "fairy chimneys" that dot the landscape. We'll head back to Istanbul on another overnight bus most likely on Saturday evening to get our heads on straight before landing in New Delhi on Wednesday.

Turkey has been an incredible place and we highly recommend a visit here. It's safe, fairly cheap (cheaper than Europe) and full of culture, relaxation, and history to explore. Most people don't speak English but hey, that's what makes it so much fun and good practice for Charades or Guesstures! They really like meat here as well, like they seriously love the stuff. And tea, but only in tiny glasses. So, in summation, if you want to look at some ruins while sipping some tea and chewing on some grilled meat, you should come here!

Thanks again for following along on our adventures. We really do love all your feedback so keep it coming! We will seriously miss Turkey but look forward to all the Asian adventures that are soon to come. The keyif we've enjoyed so much must now come to an end as we embark upon Phase Two of our journey around the world. Our Turkey has been eaten...bring on the Indian desserts!

Hoofing It Halfway Awards

To summarize the trip so far (and help pass the time on the bus!), we've compiled a short list of what we think of all the places we've seen/things we've done, for your reading pleasure. So, without further ado... (Kaitlyn is in red, Joe is in black)

Best Food:
I know you don’t really expect me to choose...they are all so different! Morocco had great tagines and couscous. I loved the foul and babaganoush in Egypt! Tel Aviv had variety, which was refreshing! Turkey has great meat and I love the fresh Mediterranean diet!

Indo-Italian Restaurant in Moshi, Tanzania because it was so random and yet so wonderful

Worst Food:
Lamb. Oh and seafood pizza. They don’t mix well.

Tough call for me, for obvious reasons. I guess I would have to say overall, everywhere in Egypt was pretty bad.

Favorite People:
The Moroccan owners at our hotel in Fez. The French girls I met diving in Dahab and later hosted us at their flat in Amman! The lady at our tree house in Olympos. But I must say, the Germans take the cake as far as fellow travelers go!

Shopkeepers who virtually ignore my presence. I like that.

People That Make Us Hate People:
The guy that sat next to me on the plane from Athens, Greece to Istanbul. The Arab shopkeeper who yelled at me in Jerusalem (and I yelled back. And then cried).

Egyptians, all of them - I constantly felt like I was getting screwed / People that sit outside the bathroom and demand that you pay them money to use it / Shopkeepers that call me their friend and try to initiate conversation

Best Bazaar/Market:
Fez, Morocco hands down! But I will say that it probably has something to do with the fact that it was the first truly walled bizarre we saw, but it is huge and incredible...plus it’s legitimate – even locals shop there!

We sure have seen a lot, from the exotic Marrakech to the oldest and largest Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. However, my favorite, by far, has to be Fes, Morocco, where anything can be had, you can lose yourself down the winding alleyways, and it is the most legitimate, whereas the others are quickly becoming solely tourist traps.

Most Touristy:
Jerusalem

Marrakech, Morocco & Jerusalem, Israel.

Dirtiest:
Without a doubt, Cairo. They literally throw their trash on the ground. If you ask a local where a trash can is, they either look at you confused, point to the ground or offer to take your trash and throw it on the ground for you.

Cairo, Egypt. It is a challenge finding a trash can, which is why I guess everyone there says screw it and just throws it on the street.

Cleanest:
Istanbul – very impressive!

Istanbul / Amman, Jordan / Tel Aviv

Most Modern:
In fairness, Tel Aviv is probably the most truly modern, but I think Istanbul is a close second (our shower had walls, not just a drain)! Plus they deserve props for being such a progressive Muslim society.

Tel Aviv - it was like San Diego, except for all the Jews everywhere

Most Ass-Backwards:
Egypt.

Luxor, Egypt - nothing about this place made any sense whatsoever

Most Surreal Experience:
1) Making it to the top of Kili. 2) Seeing the pyramids in Egypt. 3) Walking the Via Dolorosa (stations of the cross) in Jerusalem.

Riding a camel through the Pyramids

Lowest Point:
Calling my mom in tears from the train station in Marrakech because I had 50,000 bug bites all over me from bed bugs at our hotel.

Every single day on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Between Kaitlyn getting sick before we even started to climb, to Snyder's altitude sickness, to the sheer magnitude of the task before us and difficulty in the daily hike, each day was even harder than the last.

Highest Point:
Top of Kilimanjaro, literally and figuratively! And finding out I passed the bar on the streets of Amman!

The elation we felt after making it to the top of Kilimanjaro and how proud we were of each other is a moment I will always remember.

Most Fear-For-My-Life Moment:
Almost getting left by the bus while peeing in the woods in the middle of nowhere in Tanzania.

Crossing the street in Cairo / Being outdoors and not in our hotel room in Tanzania

Most Serene Moment:
Zanzibar. The most beautiful beach I have ever seen! Plus we were there at low season so it wasn’t crowded at all!

Staring up at the stars while sitting around a camp fire with Bedouins singing and dancing around me in Wadi Rum, Jordan

In A Word...
Morocco: genuine, colorful
Egypt: baksheesh, scam
Tanzania: endearing.
Jordan: surprising. I had no clue what to expect, but it is fairly modern (especially Amman) and so diverse! There is everything from canyoning, floating in the Dead Sea (or going to one of the many spas around), to camping in the desert.
Israel: stuck, clashing
Turkey: the forgotten gem of the Mediterranean!

Morocco: Enchanting
Egypt: Chaos
Tanzania: Smiles
Jordan: Expensive
Israel: Conundrum
Turkey: Meat

Home, Sweet Istanbul

noreply@blogger.com (Kaitlyn) — Thu, 07 Oct 2010 18:57:00 +0000

We arrived in Istanbul after a night in the Tel Aviv airport followed by an early morning flight. Backpacks on, we left the airport, navigated the tram - Istanbul's great public transportation system - and headed out in search of a place to stay. After walking around for about two hours we stumbled upon Emirhan Inn Apartments. It appeared to be out of our budget, but getting desperate we asked about prices and availability anyhow and low and behold we found a gem! We have since been staying in a one bedroom apartment for 80 liras a night (a little over $50). We have a little kitchen, a clean, private bathroom and a washing machine!!! Needless to say we are living in luxury, and loving it! Plus it came with three adorable little kittens who we've started feeding (probably much to the owners chagrin). Our kittens aren't exactly tame and cuddly, but cute all the same! When they hear us get home, they start meowing at our back door for food. They come in, eat, and when feeling brave explore a little. If we move towards them too quickly or try to pet them they dart off like a bat out of hell.

Our first day we slept in, which became a recurring theme, and then headed out to explore. After sleeping in, making breakfast, heading out the door to explore the city at around 2:00 p.m., and then sheepishly handing our “rent” money over to the proprietor, optimistically hoping the room was still reservation free for the next day, our place really felt like it was our “home.” Despite the fact that the guy running place must have thought we were out partying every night until late, somehow managing to sleep in through all the construction noise going on around us, we loved our home and our new favorite city, Istanbul, and one day led to another until a whole week flew right by.

It wasn’t all just comfy beds, clean laundry, and kittens galore though. We did manage to get out and explore the magnificence of the city around us. We first headed up to the Hippodrome, an open-air area with a few old columns (one was even from ancient Egypt!) to see, but otherwise appeared to be an area for pedestrians to sit and enjoy the free Wi-Fi. Next we took off our shoes, I covered my arms, legs, head, etc. and headed into the Blue Mosque, a beautiful, old mosque in the heart of the city that is still functioning. It gets its name from all the blue tiles decorating the interior. Just opposite the Blue Mosque is the Hagia Sophia, which has served as both a mosque and a church through the years and the change of empires.

The rest of the week is kind of a blur of sleeping in, cooking dinner and walking all over the complete European side of Istanbul. We took a cruise on the Bosphorus which offered a gorgeous view of the city. Istanbul is peppered with mosques and the many minarets give it a unique skyline, beautiful at sunset. We explored the hubbub of the Grand Bazaar with the many booths of vendors selling what they claim is gold, diamonds, and silk pashminas, though I'm still unsure what is real or not!

On Saturday, we had our own personal tour guides: Muharram and Mehmet. Muharram, a Turkish native, went to grad school with Joe at FSU and his brother Mehmet, who doesn't speak a lick of English, is a detective in Istanbul. Muharram lives in Ankara but came up for the weekend and the two of them spent the day showing us around. They met us at our hotel at noon, questioned us about what we'd done so far and quickly made an itinerary of the remaining best of the best things to see and do in Istanbul. They were truly incredible ushering us around, buying our tickets into the Basilica Cistern and Topkapi Palace, and giving us an insider’s perspective on the Turkish culture. And, it was great to try some new foods as well, a fish sandwich (with a side of little fish which you may or may not enjoy eating the entirety of), a baked potato topped with various goodies, and a thorough explanation of the many numerous types of kebabs (Turkish people LOVE meat). We ended the day with a hot tea at the water's edge with a beautiful view of the amazing Istanbul skyline.

We have both really loved Istanbul. The weather has been perfect, a taste of fall with the cool mornings and nights and perfect days! There is a crisp breeze from the water and everyone is walking around in their pashminas and boots (I miss cute clothes!!). It has beautiful architecture and enjoying a tea on the edge of the Bosphorus will certainly make anyone fall in love with the city! After multiple days of saying "we'll leave tomorrow," we finally pried ourselves away...at least temporarily!

We took an overnight bus to Pammulkale, a cute little town famous for its hot springs, bizarre white landscape, and Roman ruins. Tomorrow, we will head to Ephesus and then the Mediterranean coast. But our comfort in leaving Istanbul was that we know we'd have to goback. We fly out of Istanbul on October 19th for India!

What Happened To My Underpants?

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 10:24:00 +0000

We arrived in Israel on Wednesday, September 22, late afternoon. We then departed Israel on Wednesday, September 22, even later in the afternoon. "Where's our camera?" Kaitlyn asked, hoping I was hiding it somewhere, playing the old “let’s hide the camera so our girlfriend will freak out” game. "I don't know...what did you do with it?" I lovingly responded, knowing full well that I hadn't seen the thing since our arrival in Amman, three days before. After being pulled aside for a “random screening” (though I’m sure my cartoonish beard and arm full of various bracelets had nothing to do with it) by the Israeli authorities and subsequent twenty minute interrogation about my background, relationship with Kaitlyn, and reasons for entering Israel, we came to the very unfortunate realization that we had left our camera behind somewhere in Amman. We hopped back on the bus, back towards the Jordanian border, back through the contentious no-man’s-land between the two nations, and back into an expensive taxi for the 45 minute journey to Amman. Fortunately, we were staying with Elodie and Isabelle, two French girls living in Amman and who we met back in Dahab, Egypt, Kaitlyn’s newest friends and dive buddies. The camera, as it turned out, was in the trunk of the car of a friend of theirs, left behind after our first arrival. We both were very relieved of this news, happy our months of memories were still intact.

Aside from being exponentially more expensive than its neighbors, Jordan was one of our favorite places. Much to both of our surprise, Amman is a modern metropolis, with shopping plazas galore, law abiding drivers, and shining rays of progressive ideas abounding. It was here, at the crossroads of Arabia and modernity, that Kaitlyn was to find out the news that would forever change her life (not to mention set the tone for the rest of our trip!). On Monday, September 20, 2010, Kaitlyn Michelle Bagnato became Kaitlyn Michelle Bagnato, Esquire! On a stoop next to a small shop down a side street in Amman, complete with onlookers not sure what to make of the tears and simultaneous cheers and hugs, we found out that Kaitlyn passed the Florida Bar exam. After three years of arduous work and two months of nonstop studying and cramming (and a delight to be around throughout, of course!), her efforts have finally paid off. We bought a few cans of beer, gathered a bottle of wine, and headed back to our amazing flat near the French embassy in Amman to celebrate with our French friends.

After eight action-packed days in Jordan consisting of camping with Bedouins in beautiful Wadi Rum, exploring ancient Petra, canyoning to an amazing waterfall in Wadi Mujib, being driven through the country by our new German friends, floating in the Dead Sea, seeing Jesus’ baptismal site at Bethany-Beyond-the-Jordan, enjoying the small town feel of Christian Madaba and the big city feel of Amman, and discovering that a lawyer is now among us, it was time to hit the road again and head across the mighty and imposing Jordan River, the one-foot wide boundary between Jordan and Israel.

We passed through security without a hitch this time around, thankfully, and headed straight for Jerusalem. Having spent the better part of the past two months in or around walled cities, we were not terribly impressed or in awe of the Old City walls surrounding Jerusalem. But then, once inside, we both felt a certain degree of magic in the air. Though neither one of us have ever really been the crazy for religion, WWJD bracelet wearing type, there was still something sublime about being in Jerusalem, being in such a holy and austere place, where so much history and battles over belief have taken place. For me, the religion major and incessant spiritual seeker, Jerusalem has always been the cradle of faith, the eternal alpha and omega of all things God.

The Old City is divided into four quadrants, each with their distinct personality. The Muslim Quarter is awash in small markets like we have been in and out of for the past few months, with men selling various sundries for both locals and tourists. This quarter is distinctly Arab, where good deals can be had if you bargain correctly, and each seller proudly displays something that ties them to their Palestinian roots. Next is the Christian Quarter, with the dividing lines between the two quarters being completely blurred as the only thing that really changes is who the shopkeepers’ target audience becomes and crosses and rosaries begin to replace knockoff designer brand clothes and shawarma (like a gyro) stands. And the sad part is that everything still comes from the same place: China! Having also gone through decades of turmoil between Roman times, the Crusades, Byzantine rule, etc., most of the Old City isn’t as really “old” as many of the faithful would like to believe. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the beautiful edifice built atop the place of Jesus’ crucifixion and full of amazing artwork and antiquities in memoriam, is a very old building that has remained standing through all the surrounding conflict. However, inside the church there remains items that are perhaps more symbolic than actual remnants, such as several devotional pillars rumored to have been at Jesus’ feet during the crucifixion or a small cave area inside the church alleged to have been the first burial spot of Jesus. To the devoted, authenticity, I reckon, is not so much a matter of fact but rather a matter of faith. The Via Dolorosa, or Stations of the Cross, are marked along a pathway leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. With the city being virtually discombobulated several times over the past two thousand years, the layout of things has also obviously changed. We walked the Via Dolorosa, following along in the final steps of Jesus’ life, despite the likelihood of its historical inauthenticity, just like the thousands of tour groups and millions of other pilgrims that do each year. It was still a remarkable and surreal experience, being in Jerusalem, the place where it all happened, and walking in the footsteps of Jesus, even if they were just symbolic.

Joe at the Wailing Wall

With numerous churches ,mosques, and synagogues around every corner, the entire Old City is a holy (and wholly) blur of spirituality. A third quarter, the Armenian Quarter, randomly enough, is quieter and seemingly more residential than the other parts. Why Armenian? Apparently, Armenia was the first to embrace Christianity and so were thusly rewarded with a place in the Holy Land. Despite the nomenclature and few Armenian mosaic shops, the quarter, adjacent to a large Greek contingent, feels less Armenian (whatever that means) and more distinctly Greek.

Dome of the Rock

Finally, the fourth quarter, the Jewish Quarter, has probably undergone the most changes through its history. What stands today is a very new, very clean, and very quaint neighborhood. With children running around in their little yarmulkes, women in their long skirts, and men in their stereotypical yet still cartoonishly long and curly side hair flapping underneath their large sable Russian hat looking things and black outfits, the Jewish Quarter felt surprisingly calm compared to its neighbors. The centerpiece of the Jewish Quarter is the Western Wall (or Wailing Wall) that is all that remains from the Second Temple and the object of much of their devotion. Men and women are divided to different areas of the wall where they can often be seen rocking back and forth in devotion, reading from their scriptures, praying, eating bagels with smears of lox (just kidding! Stereotypes are fun!) or writing notes to be inserted into the wall, messages to be delivered to God.

All in all, I would have to say that I was surprised about just how small it all was. I guess hearing Bible stories as a kid in CCD classes on Sunday mornings (before blurring it all out, of course) made it all seem like such a vast area. In reality, we covered it all with ease, from the place of the Last Supper outside the wall, to the Temple Mount and the Dome of the Rock, to the Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane and Mary’s Tomb, all the way back with time to spare to walk the Via Dolorosa, barely breaking a sweat.

We never felt in danger during our time in Jerusalem, despite the abundance of armed soldiers running to and fro on a seemingly very important mission somewhere. I received an email from my mother one day that read something like this, “OMG Joey! I just saw on the news about the violence in Jerusalem! Please tell me you guys are okay!!!” to which I had to research whatever it was that occurred, since nothing seemed out of the ordinary or peculiar whatsoever. It turns out that an Israeli security guard killed a Palestinian, which led to some riots, and blah blah blah, the usual sort of stuff we hear about on the news all the time. The fact is that oftentimes, as is the case with everything I guess, the actual reality of the situation is far less dramatic or indicative than the media would have us believe. Nevertheless, we opted against venturing into the West Bank towards Bethlehem to see the Palestinian side of the Middle East equation because of all the peace talk negotiating going on at the time. The situation is tense. It has always been tense and it will probably always be tense. The fight is about so much more than land, so much more than politics, and so much more than religion. I’ll spare you a lengthy diatribe on the topic and instead tell you that I bought/made a t-shirt with the city of Jerusalem on the front and on the back, the simple word “coexist” formed with the religious symbols of the three major faiths constructing the c, x and t. Hopefully, one day it will happen...

After Jerusalem, we boarded a bus for the 45 minute ride to Tel Aviv, likely the most modern stop on our entire journey. Besides being ridiculously expensive, we both loved every aspect of the city. From the dog friendliness (they were even allowed in the indoor mall!), to the young professionals, to the walkability of the city, to the beautiful beaches, to the progressive ethos, it personally reminded me of San Diego, which as everyone knows, is the most fantastic city ever. There were no armed guards anywhere, no city walls, and worries whatosever...just the beach, the mall, and the three movies we got to see at the theatre (Go see Eat, Pray, Love!!!), another wonderful and peaceful end to yet another country.

We spent Monday evening at the Tel Aviv airport, waiting for our flight to Athens, Greece, and then onwards to Istanbul, where we currently sit and absolutely love so far. It’s now October, with two months abroad officially behind us. We’ve been in and out of ten countries so far and our passports are getting full. We look forward to a more relaxing October in Turkey before heading off to India and onwards to Southeast Asia! Please keep letting us know that you know we’re still alive (and are glad!) and we’ll be happy to write you back. Sometimes, it does get lonely all the way over here...!

Musings...

Things I have lost thus far along the journey: 10-15 pounds (I know, I know...it’s about time right?!?), several city maps, full water bottles, and sodas, my freaking Iphone, and, believe it or not, somehow I’ve managed to lose three pairs of my own underpants...

I had no idea how many black Jews there are...

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“Into the Middle East We Go...”

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 14:54:00 +0000

It's been almost three weeks since we ascended Mt. Kilimanjaro and, subsequently, that same amount of time since our last blog post. To all our loyal followers, we apologize for the delay in your vicarious travels and hope you will forgive us for stranding you at the bottom of the mountain! The climb and recuperation period that followed definitely took it out of us! The past few weeks have certainly been eventful, taking us through four countries and one almost-country en route to our current locale, Amman, Jordan. In order to bring you up to date as efficiently as possible, and unfortunately without the theatrics of a movie montage to help speed things along, I will do my best to sum up the past few weeks and fast forward you to where we are today.

Zanzibar

After spending an extra day in Moshi to get our heads back on straight after the climb, we hopped on a bus back to Dar es Salaam, a good nine hours complete with some amazingly awful Nigerian cinema, fully expecting to be able to get right on a ferry to whisk us away to the enchanting shores of Zanzibar. Unfortunately, the last ferry allegedly departed hours before our bus arrived, leaving us and a group of 7 or 8 other fellow travelers stranded in Dar as nightfall approached. Dar es Salaam, much like many other African cities, is not known to be a particularly cheery place for foreigners at night, notorious for muggings, robberies and other unreported crimes in what Wikipedia describes as one of the least policed countries in the world. So, as you can imagine, we were all quite anxious to seek refuge as soon as possible. We all put our heads together and found our way to an area listed in the Lonely Planet with several budget options (and also in a superbly shady area of town) and luckily found some availability.

We awoke the next morning and walked down to the harbor, managing to avoid the endless touts. After a two hour plus journey through nauseating Indian Ocean waves, we finally arrived on the shores of Stonetown, Zanzibar. After clearing through customs (Zanzibar fancies itself as being separate from Tanzania, though Tanzania would never part with such a treasure) we were greeted by the most taxi drivers ever gathered in one place ever, eager for our business. We decided on the can't be beat price of a man named Carlos in a minivan who then also managed to win the business of two Danish men, though at a rate twice that of what we were to pay. Carlos told us to "be cool" about this fact, to which we obliged in fear of losing our sweetheart of a fare. After a 45 minute ride through the Zanzibar interior, we emerged at our final destination, Nuwinga, on the north of the island. After driving down several dirt roads, we quickly realized that this was perhaps not the tourist hotspot we had imagined, even though the guide book referred to this part of the island as the most lively. Despite this, we soon were enraptured in the simple, untouched beauty of Zanzibar.

Men still went out in their fishing boats to catch squid, barracuda, and tuna not far offshore while boats were repaired along the beach and children kicked around a soccer ball. Meanwhile, the women made quite a rucus chanting as they formed a circle in the shallow water with a net collecting sardines, later to be divided among them. The water was a striking aqua with magnificent shells strewn throughout the white sands. The place was simple and beautiful, though the prices were also staggering thanks to its remote location and influx of high-end resorts encroaching. We easily occupied ourselves (by doing absolutely nothing) for three days there, even coming across some of the British group we hiked alongside on Kilimanjaro, hanging out and drinking with them in between patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.

It was then time to head back to Stonetown to take in some of the historic city and enjoy a beautiful sunset at Africa House, a luxury hotel, before catching our ferry back the following afternoon. A mix of Arab, Indian, and African cultures and ethnicity, it truly was a fascinating place. We arrived back to Dar by another long and treacherous ferry ride and decided to find another dodgy hotel room for part of the evening as our flight to Cairo departed at 6:00 a.m.

We will never forget our time in Tanzania, the people, the adventures, the beauty. Our hefty $100 visa, exclusively for Americans, was definitely worth it.

Cairo

We arrived back in Cairo with twelve hours to kill before our overnight bus ride to Dahab, a backpacker’s refuge along the Red Sea at the southeast portion of the Sinai Peninsula. A girl we met weeks before said that Cairo is the type of place that grows on you and that after your third visit, you’ll begin to feel an affinity towards it. At first, this showed signs of actually being accurate though it didn’t take too long for Cairo to once again rear its ugly head.

Upon landing at the airport, instead of paying an inflated taxi rate into the city, we decided to opt instead for an adventure aboard a city bus. The bus was packed, Kaitlyn was the only female present and men were literally clinging to the door of the bus with one foot hanging outside while the bus driver honked his way through self-created driving lanes. It was definitely quite the experience! Fortunately, Kaitlyn made the acquaintance of an English speaker who helped us determine when it was we were supposed to get off, definitely our first breath of fresh air in regards to the people of Cairo...for once, someone not trying to screw us or expecting some baksheesh in exchange for assistance! We arrived downtown and immediately headed across the Nile to a Chili’s restaurant to recharge our culinary batteries after the drab cuisine of Tanzania. After chips and salsa, bottomless diet coke and a quesadilla explosion salad, Kaitlyn was once again happy (as was I after having enjoyed in the chips and salsa and my chicken finger basket). We next sought out a Fedex to ship back some goods we bought in Tanzania but had an incredibly difficult time in locating the place. Once we did, it was closed, of course, though the door was open and the men inside were seemingly working. Oh Cairo...

The time soon came for us to board our bus to Dahab. Sitting in the front seats with an incessantly smoking driver who blares his radio with the soothing sounds of Arabian music (basically, people yelling loudly) going through the heavily disputed lands of the Sinai Peninsula with checkpoints every few hours in the middle of the night, does not really afford one a stellar opportunity for a good night’s sleep. Furthermore, the random checkpoints, seemingly set up for no reason whatsoever as an Egyptian gingerly boards the bus to look around (for what, I’m not sure) and then checks or doesn’t check everyone or only a handful of people’s passports, is not a great example of government efficiency. Despite the length of my beard now giving me the appearance of a Jewish rabbi, we managed to get through them and arrived in Dahab some twelve hours later.

For those of you that may not know Kaitlyn that well, two plus days of constant travel through the Arab world without showers and with inconsistent sleep does not make for a happy girl. I have now learned this lesson and have been warned to adjust all future travel plans accordingly!

Dahab, Egypt

Dahab, as it turned out, was just what the doctor ordered, a respite from the road and from one another. We decided to try out scuba diving, one of Kaitlyn’s highly anticipated endeavors on the trip. The Red Sea, the saltiest body of water containing life, is virtually like a crystal clear aquarium. Beaches, there are none, but rocky shores leading out to an abundance of coral reefs are aplenty. Having never even snorkeled before and blessed with the buoyancy of an awkward giraffe, I was uneasy, but after much coaxing by Kaitlyn, I was willing to attempt scuba diving though unsure as to my capability. To start our diving class, we spent the first evening watching a few educational videos from the 1980s and completing some homework. No problem...I like to learn. The next day we reviewed the materials with the three others in our group, a British fellow and two French girls living in Jordan, and our instructor, Elvira, a Spaniard. Elvira then went over some of the exercises we were going to do in the water that afternoon and how to put on our equipment and prepare for our first underwater experience. After putting on our wetsuits and preparing our tanks, it was time to head to the water. First drill: submerge yourself with the regulating device and get used to the underwater environment, breathing through your mouth. “Okay,” I said to myself, “no problem.” Unfortunately, this is as far as my jaunt into the enchanting underwater world takes me. I gave it the old college try but could not handle this first and basic prerequisite. Aside from freaking the hell out about being underwater, unable to touch the bottom, I also couldn’t grasp the concept of constantly breathing through my mouth and into this gigantic mouthpiece of a foreign object lodged into my teeth. Apparently, I am quite the gagger. There I was, grasping for air, bobbing up and down trying to surface like a drowning bearded camel, thus ending any future hopes of finding sunken treasures in the depths of the ocean.

Kaitlyn, however, took to the seas like an otter, sinking right down to the bottom and joining the others in the circle of success while I floundered at the top trying to keep the basic snorkel in my mouth for more than five seconds, managing to sink under from time to time to watch the others perform their underwater drills without me. Finally, it was time for a lunch break. I was told the others would be swimming away and then back to shore and that I was welcome to join alongside them, snorkeling my way atop them like a clubbed seal just holding on to dear life. “No thank you,” I quickly replied and gathered up my stuff, content to walk back to the dive center to meet them.

That was the extent of my diving career. Kaitlyn, however, continued on with the three day course, spending ten hours a day at the dive center or in the water, learning the ins and outs of diving. She passed the certification test of course on her first try and now looks forward to future dives in Thailand and Indonesia. While she was off with her fancy diving and new friends, I explored the rest of Dahab. It is a small place, with virtually nothing outside of the strip around the water’s edge. House-like structures sit within the interior, unfinished buildings lying vacant as if the builders just vanished. Most of the land is owned by Bedouins, a concept that makes me laugh considering that the very definition of a Bedouin is one who aimlessly wanders about. All along the water’s edge are Bedouin owned “camps,” backpacker friendly (cheap) hotels that cater to the traveler and restaurants where it is expected for you to sit and lounge there for hours, soaking up the sun without a care in the world. Having experienced all this, it was easy for us to stay here for longer than anticipated, lounging about, enjoying the food and the otherwise extremely chilled out atmosphere. Ironically enough, with all these Westerners in their bikinis, enjoying their cocktails and otherwise pleasurable experiences, some 800 yards away across the Red Sea lay Saudi Arabia, the complete antithesis of everything going on around us and one of the great ironies of the trip so far. After five days of rubbing it in the Saudis faces, it came time for us to get back on the road and head towards our next adventure, Jordan.

Jordan

We once again packed onto an Egyptian bus headed towards the border with Israel and chock full of more checkpoints. Our original plan was to take a ferry directly across the Red Sea and into Aqaba, Jordan, but were told that the ferry service was expensive and otherwise very unreliable. Instead, we opted for the bus to do a land crossing through Eilat, Israel, and onwards into Jordan. This whole area of the globe, this portion of land adjacent to the Red Sea, is a fascinating place, with Egypt, Israel, Jordan and Saudi Arabia seemingly located within 75 miles of one another, clearly able to see one another’s lands. We approached the border, Taba, Egypt, and had to get off the bus and walk the rest of the way through customs and onwards across the border, thus beginning Kaitlyn’s first internal freakout as we headed into hostile territory. Young Israeli teenagers, fully armed with machine guns, were now the scenery as we were ushered into our place in the long line through security. Once it was our turn to pass through the first checkpoint, I, of course, got singled out as my passport was taken by the security forces for what I assume was further inspection, despite my increasingly Jewish appearing beard. After a quick swab of my passport and electronic devices, I was clear to go ahead to the next area and get a visa stamp. I was hoping for a more thorough interrogation (and may just get it when we go back across the border) but we were both free to go ahead into the tiny jut of Israeli land along the Red Sea, Eilat, where we quickly got a taxi to take us the few kilometers to the border with Jordan. After paying our exorbitant exit tax to leave Israel, we once again walked across the border into a seeming ghost town, where the Jordanian customs agents had to be awoken from their slumber to give us our Jordanian visa stamps, a world away from the scene at the opposite border. We met a British fellow at the border named John and shared a cab into downtown Aqaba where we spent the afternoon and evening.

The next day we were picked up by a Bedouin man named Obeid to be taken to his camp inside Wadi Rum, the picturesque desert a little north. John came along with us on the trip and we also shared the camp with a German couple. After a four hour tour in the back of a truck through the desert landscape, we finally headed back to our camp for the evening, though Kaitlyn and I were spent after the first twenty minutes of what I’m sure were quite remarkable – but seemingly similar – rock formations. We camped under the stars in the middle of the desert with Obeid and his sons, the Germans, and John, eating a Bedouin prepared dinner (chicken cooked in a pot on coals and buried in the sand) and drank some tea as we watched the boys dance and sing Arab pop songs into the wee hours of the night before heading back into our tent. It was definitely a beautiful experience, despite the cost and obviously tourist focused endeavor!

The next day we all packed into a rental car the Germans had and headed north towards Wadi Musa and one of the new seven wonders of the world, Petra. After finding a place to stay, we excitedly headed into the site. Walking through the canyon-esque “siq”, we soon came upon the main entrance into the ancient city as the picture perfect Treasury appeared beyond the curve. Made famous in pop culture by Indiana Jones, Petra is a series of beautiful red cliff rocks inhabited by the Nabateans before Roman times. They carved amazingly elaborate facades into the rocks for purposes still unbeknownst to me as they literally seemed about 20 feet in depth, hardly enough room inside for much to really go on. We hiked all through the ruins and climbed to the Monastery, another striking edifice overlooking the ruins below. It was a long day of hiking and climbing through the heat but well worth our efforts. The German couple stumbled across a friend while inside Petra and we all went out to dinner afterwards. The next day, we tagged along with these new Germans (who had a rental car) and John, and drove along the Dead Sea, the lowest point on Earth, en route to Wadi Mujib, dubbed “Petra with water.” We hiked in the canyon along a stream until we came upon an impressive waterfall, complete with random Arab men swimming about in tiny shorts and underpants, leaving little to the imagination. It was an incredibly fun experience. We then drove north, graciously being dropped off by the Germans inside the town of Madaba, a town laden with Christian mosaics throughout and our chosen destination for the evening as they continued onwards to Amman. With a one-third Christian population and referred to as the wine capital of Jordan, it was high on Kaitlyn’s list of must-sees. After buying a bottle of Mt. Nebo wine, we settled in for the evening, once again alone, without John and without the company of Germans. We were extremely fortunate to have made the acquaintance of so many good people traveling through Jordan as this is the most expensive country we have been in and having free transportation definitely helped to keep costs down (and the fun up)!

Yesterday, we hired a car for half the day, first stopping at a friend of the driver’s, where we were invited inside to eat some very traditional Bedouin food, to which I repeatedly declined. But Kaitlyn eventually gave way and dug in, much to their delight. Afterwards, we were back en route to our chosen destinations. First stop was Mt. Nebo, the place where Moses died after looking out to see Jerusalem. Unfortunately, much of the site was closed due to restorations. Then we headed to Bethany-Beyond-the-Jordan, the baptism site of Jesus, where we arrived just in time to have a very quick tour before closing time. However, the site seemed to lose its spiritual essence as we were hurriedly pushed through by our mandatory guide. Lastly, we made it to the Dead Sea for a swim and the surreal experience of effortless floating while the sunset behind us.

Driving up and down through the hills and barren landscape of this area, dotted with Bedouin camps, grazing sheep, and shepherds tending to their flocks, it’s crazy to think that not too much has changed in so many thousands of years. The lands, literally and figuratively, are amazingly biblical, filled with so much history and contention around each and every corner. We will soon head to Jerusalem, the holy of holies, where I’m sure we will be overcome by the brevity of it all. We are having an amazing and surreal time and will try to keep the updates more frequent. Thanks for following along with us on the journey!

Musings...

Check out the “What did we just eat” tab for some updated meals. Also, pictures are almost completely updated so be sure to get a visual of everything we’ve experienced by clicking on the “Look at us doing fun things” tab!

Jordan is truly an amazing country. Drivers actually stop at red lights, there are actually some red lights, they even have radar guns to stop speeders, we don’t feel like everyone is trying to screw us over in some way, and the people are genuinely nice. It really does seem like a country, surrounded by so much chaos and disorder, that manages to march to its own beat and have some civility, progress, and growth, a testament to King Abdullah, the bizarrely omnipresent king whose image is plastered on every corner, an oddity for such a Western, non-dictator ruler.

Pole, Pole!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 17:36:00 +0000

I don't hike, I've camped maybe one time before, and the highest I've ever been is when I went to Amsterdam in 2005. I don't know what convinced me that climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro at 19,334 feet over six days of hiking through various environments and camping was a good idea. Nevertheless, we embarked on the endeavor about a week ago, completely unsure of what was to come...

We arrived in Moshi, a small town at the foot of the mountain, after an all-day stay inside the Cairo airport followed by an overnight flight into Dar es Salaam where I promptly had a mini-freakout over the fact that we were actually in "real" Africa, a hurried cab ride to the Ubungo bus terminal where we managed to evade the swarms of scammers outside the terminal and get to our bus of choice, the Dar Express, luckily got a ticket for the next bus out of town and towards Moshi, an eight-hour ride through the surreal African landscape. Kaitlyn, in all her tribal glory, loved every second of the journey, waving to the various villagers as we passed by, smiling back at them, taking it all in while I went in and out of disheveled sleeping positions beside her. A man gets up from his seat on the bus, stands in the middle, and proceeds to give the captive passengers a thirty minute presentation in Swahili on each of the various soaps, toothpastes, and other cleaning products he individually takes out from his bag. Then came our first African "rest stop" as the bus pulled over to the side of the road not far from a mud house structure (the obvious home of some innocent villager) while all the passengers exited the bus. Naturally having to relieve ourselves, we followed suit. All the men seemed to head towards one side of the wooded area while the women to the other. It was an epic outdoor pee extravaganza as everyone seemed to leave their mark outside this poor villager's home. And then it happened. As we re-boarded the bus, seemingly full once again, Snyder and I looked at each other and wondered where Kaitlyn was as the bus began to slowly move forward. Then out the window, running out from the depths of the woods, came a frantic Kaitlyn, worst nightmare almost coming true. We stopped and everything turned out okay, though everyone on the bus had a good laugh about it.

We finally arrived in Moshi and took a taxi to what I was hoping was a pre-arranged hotel room for us as part of our climbing package. The ambiguity in the situation stemmed from the fact that in researching for this part of the trip and coming across company after company with costs well into the $1500 range per person for the climb, I contacted some people through my Couchsurfing network and got a seemingly great recommendation for a man named Pasian Peter, whose fee was only $950, a deal too good to pass up. I contacted him and have spent several months remaining in contact with him trying to do my best to plan this climb. After wiring $400 to this random man in Tanzania in July as part of our deposit, I really had no idea if he was even a real person let alone going to actually carry through with our agreement. Sure enough, we arrived at the hotel and I tentatively mentioned his name, just hoping a reservation was made. It was, and he was even there, awaiting our arrival. He bought us each a beer and sat us down to give us a brief account of what to expect on our climb. The next day, he even took us around town to various contacts of his so we could rent needed equipment cheaply. He was not only legit but a really nice guy whose reputation and the recommendations of travelers like us were the only things that kept his business afloat.

After a day of rest and gathering supplies around town and en evening spent eating at an Indo-Italian restaurant and drinking beers, something we hadn't tasted in nearly a month through the Arab world, the big climb was finally upon us.

Pasian Peter picked us up at the hotel room at 8:30 in a dala-dala, a type of big van used to shuttle large groups of people, and we set off towards the gates of the Machame Route of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Along the way to the mountain however, the first signs of trouble appeared as we had to pull over twice. Kaitlyn was sick. But she was determined to move forward with the climb, stomach problems be damned. We arrived at the gates and met up with the rest of our team. For the three of us, we had two guides, a cook, and seven porters, a team of ten Tanzanian men who would be with us for the next six days. After paying the exorbitant park admission fee of $600 something just to get in the park (already a part of the previously mentioned $995 total), we started our what would become, endless procession up the world's highest free standing mountain.

About six hours later, we arrived at our first camp site, exhausted and wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. Our tents were already set up, complete with sleeping bags and floor mats in place. We eagerly went inside and collapsed on the ground. Moments later, Baracka, the head porter, a 21-year-old who appeared to have some sort of bullet hole indentation in his forehead and whose English was limited at best, appeared with two bowls of piping hot water and some soap for us to wash ourselves and tidy up from the day's hard work. "A nice touch," I thought to myself. Then popcorn and tea were served as a little snack. We were able to rest for an hour or so, get a hold of our bearings and then Baracka came back with dinner, served atop a red and white blanket, as he meticulously placed the silverware side by side, the bowls and plates as well, and then the various condiments. First came the soup, a "fish soup" apparently, much to my dismay, though as it turned out, my favorite source of sustenance. Then came a second course, a bowl of assorted vegetable mushiness served alongside steamed rice. "Way to go Joe!" I applauded myself on a job well done as we all progressed to eat it all and enjoy our first evening spent on the slopes of Kilimanjaro.

The following days went on in much the same manner. Awaken at 7:00 to the sounds of our porters rumbling outside the tent, eat some breakfast (scrambled eggs and toast with some fruit most of the time) and drink some tea, pack up our bags inside the tent, and get in line as we began the long day's trek once more up the mountain to some destination point unknown but never "very far" as our guides optimistically yet incorrectly always asserted. Our porters and the porters of other hikers soon passed by us, somehow carrying bags and backpacks and other heavy supplies atop their heads as they brushed by us at incredible speeds and we stood out of breath to the sides in amazement at their mobility, strength and balance. "Jambo" (hello) they would all say to us as they breezed by with a smile on their face, "Pole Pole," Swahili for "slowly, slowly," the ubiquitous creedo for the climb up. We would undoubtedly reach our camp, always exhausted and always in doubt about the next day's efforts.

On the fourth day, after arriving at our camp before sunset, we were told we were going to be woken up at 11:00 p.m. to drink some tea and eat a snack before embarking on our final ascent to the summit and begin what would become 13 hours of nonstop hiking. Needless to say, none of us were very excited about the prospects of hiking in the middle of the night up this gigantic mountain in the bitter cold, unable to really see what was in front of us or the type of terrain we had to battle, yet it had to be done if we wanted to reach the summit. We set off, one by one, following our guide "Tino," a Masai man, the soft-spoken leader of our group. "Sistah, you okay?" he would often turn around and ask Kaitlyn, always the first one of us to lead the pack. He knew she had an upset stomach for most of this endeavor and wanted to make sure she could still forge ahead. "And your friend?" he inquired to her on my behalf for some reason. We had to stop at several points along the mountain for bathroom breaks, to catch our breath and to drink some needed water. We were ascending some 1200 meters in this short period of time, a potentially dangerous undertaking for us very amateur mountaineers. Tears were shed and serious doubts were cast as we each struggled upwards. More than once the prospects of turning around and heading back to camp seemed to be a better alternative than continuing on through the hell we were in. But Tino would not have it. He believed in us and pushed us ahead. "Ain't no mountain high enough..." and Kanye West's "Stronger" kept playing through my head. "Ya'll probably won't make it," echoed constantly in my mind, motivating me to go further and further if only to prove to Kaitlyn's dad that I could make it and, in turn, could do anything I put my mind towards doing. The sun slowly began to rise from the horizon at our backs and the top of the mountain seemed further and further away. We buckled down one last time mustering up whatever strength we had left and forged ahead. At around 7:30, we took our last steps upward and finally reached the summit of the beast we had been battling. We jubilantly hugged one another and took a view downwards at what we had accomplished. Unfortunately, however, this was not THE end. This was merely Stella Point, a feat in and of itself, though not Uhuru, the absolute peak at the rooftop of Africa. After drinking some water and forcing down an energy bar, we forged ahead for the hour plus walk further ahead towards Uhuru. The altitude began to take its toll on each of us as Snyder began talking all crazily and I began to feel dizzy. Glaciers were all around us as we trekked through this bizarre landscape atop the world. Emotions soon overcame each of us as I began thinking about everything we had accomplished and how far we had come. I started thinking about my dad and what he would think about what we had just done. I thought about Kaitlyn and how she fought through her stomach problems, readily smiling and "Jambo-ing" every porter that we passed by despite being ill, about her strength and determination, about our future together and how proud I was of her and of us. We had finally done it...we had reached Uhuru, 19,334 feet high, and we had done it all together, every step of the way.

There is no way to fully describe the sense of accomplishment that comes with climbing a mountain. Sitting atop there, taking it all in, really put things into perspective about how far we have already come on this trip together and how lucky we are to be here doing this. With only one month behind us and already a lifetime of memories made, the next four months are sure to only get better and better. Thank you to everyone for reading this and following along on our journey with us. Thank you especially to the Bagnatos for last minute scrounging around to make sure we had the right medications to make sure we didn't contract malaria or get altitude sickness on this leg of our trip. We couldn't have made it to the top without you!

We are now off to Zanzibar for some much needed rest and relaxation. Pictures will be posted soon from the past few weeks so check back in the next few days!

Musings...

Tanzanians, believe it or not, are cleaner than Egyptians. They have trash receptacles on the street and the streets aren't littered in garbage. Good for you Tanzania!

Having said that, it also seems plenty fine to just walk down the street here, openly picking your nose. So, when in Rome....

Snyder got altitude sickness on the mountain. He had to be carried down the mountain on a stretcher by the porters. This is one of the greatest ironies of my life...the triathlete, hiker and camper extraordinaire has to be carried down the mountain while I, the tv watching loafer, climbs up and down triumphantly.

Where did we relieve ourselves on the mountain? In a five by five wooden house-like structure with a rectangle hole in the ground. Sometimes, people miss, which is unfortunate for everyone.

"...But For You, Good Price"

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 20:37:00 +0000

"Welcome to Egypt," says nearly every man we pass on the streets, a somewhat different greeting than what we were expecting upon our arrival here. We were told that Egyptians were the rudest people in the Arab world, that it was nearly impossible to get around, and that everyone we met was going to expect a little "backsheesh," a tip for doing anything from letting us use the bathroom, to giving us tea, to doing absolutely nothing other than sitting around. Now, before I go any further into giving you the impression that we love it here or that Cairo is an absolute dream, let me also point out that every single one of these extremely welcoming Egyptian men has also taken an incredibly creepy interest in Kaitlyn's apparently incredibly sexy knees, complete with mouths agape, pointing, smiles, and near motorcycle wrecks. With the attention "the finest knees in the south" is bringing (and the subsequent havoc being wrought), I do wonder if this warm reception is genuinely for us or more for Kaitlyn's titillating calf muscles.

We arrived here around midnight on Wednesday the 18th after an all night bus ride from Essouaira to Casablanca, Kaitlyn being sick upon arrival at the bus depot and throughout the remainder of the day, an arduous trek through the streets of Casablanca to find the world’s third largest mosque and miraculously getting escorted there by a Moroccan naval officer, a plethora of taxi disputes and train rides en route to the airport, and finally figuring out how to navigate the check-in process for our Air Maroc flight. Our plane’s final destination, as it turned out, was Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia.

Most people probably won’t admit to it but I know that whenever you’re getting ready to board a plane, people watching in the airport, a part of you is always on the lookout for “foreigners,” as we’ll call them. It’s okay to admit it, we’re all friends here. Now imagine boarding a plane that is literally headed to the Mecca of these “foreigners” and sitting in the aisle across from eight Wahabi gentlemen, all decked out in their infamous white robes and red and white checkered head coverings. Imagine further that you are the only two Americans on board and that it is Ramadan and most of the people on board with you have been fasting all day. Finally, imagine that all these men beside you, behind you, and in front of you are reading the Quran, shaking back and forth, praying, and then at an assigned time, one of them loudly and yet lyrically shouts for all the plane to hear “Allah Akbar!”

While Kaitlyn made friends with the girl beside her (a black 21-year-old Saudi who despised her country and spoke impeccable english), gingerly carrying on conversation without a care in the world, mostly unaware of the anxiety overtaking me as a result of everything that was occurring, I was sizing the guys up, wondering if I could take them while simultaneously taking stock of the illustrious life of Joe Statile. And then, as fate would have it, the man sitting next to me got up from his seat and offered us dates, a staple fruit of the region, before progressing to walking up and down the aisle of the plane, passing out dates to our fellow passengers. He was, as it turns out, just a helluva nice guy, all smiles now that he could finally eat and excited to share in his celebration with others on board. Being the culturally savvy guy I like to think I am, yes, I do feel about judging him...but come on!

We paid for our Egyptian visas at the airport and were greeted soon after customs by my best friend and college roommate, Chris Snyder, who flew into Cairo hours earlier. We took a cab to our hostel in the Islamic section of Cairo and somehow managed to stay up until 4 in the morning catching up on things. The next day all three of us slept in and otherwise took it easy, a welcomed rest, before checking out the nearby Khan al-Khalili market, a medieval bizarre, and also a gigantic tourist trap. This market was nothing like the souks of Morocco, lacking in all the personality of the winding corridors and legitimacy of its existence, and instead a huge waste of time and money as the boisterous Egyptian shopkeepers shout at you from every angle, desperately trying to get you to walk into their store. It is at this point where both Kaitlyn and I decided that we were already fed up with the Arab world and all their shenanigans, though yes, indeed we still have about a month left to look forward to!

Cairo reminds me in many ways of Rome, very old, very loud, and very dirty; a place that I imagine takes some time to grow fond of. We, however, only have three days, and the constant honking of every car that goes by and taxi wanting to take us somewhere, the grabbing of the shopkeepers as we pass by, and the incessant fear that every person we meet is trying to rip us off in some way, certainly aren’t helping us grow very fond of the city. It is hot, oh so very hot, with garbage everywhere and people with their hand out always looking for that extra little baksheesh, of which we are never really sure how much is expected for a service, since it seems like money is constantly being traded between people and prices are always in flux, depending on who you ask and at what time. It is a huge city, old mixed with the new, though I fear with a never changing third world perspective.

Yesterday we went to Giza, an area about 40 minutes outside Cairo, to see the pyramids. It was a surreal experience that we never forget, by far the highlight of our trip so far. We did it all atop a camel, for what was surely way too much money (plus baksheesh of course) but well worth every dime. We were there, at a place that many dream about seeing and a place we have all read about as kids with so much fascination and intrigue. They truly are awe-inspiring and a testament to the ingenuity and possibilities of humanity. Our guide was fantastic, a great photographer with impeccable english, able to tell us about them and keep us interested. It’s still hard to believe we were there!

We are currently sitting on an overnight train down to Luxor. We have a private sleeping compartment, the most comfortable traveling experience thus far. We’ll check out the Valley of the Kings and Queens and the Karnak Temple and take a felucca (boat) ride down the Nile before heading back to Cairo to catch our flight to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, then a bus up to Mt. Kilimanjaro. One week from now we will (hopefully) be somewhere on Africa’s highest mountain, crazy! Luckily, we’ll still have Snyder with us, a definitely more experienced outdoorsman than us both combined who will hopefully help get us to the top! We are entering the wildest and most unpredictable portion of our trip so please bear with us if we don’t post anything new for a few days. Internet will be sporadic in Tanzania...plus we’ll be on top of a mountain. But we will post as soon as we can, whenever we can! Thanks for all your support and stay in touch!

Musings

Snyder has brought an incredible amount of enthusiasm on board our journey. His amusing ways keep us entertained. Plus, much to Kaitlyn’s delight, he likes to eat. He has seemingly sampled everything available and seems to find random meats to eat throughout the day. He also tried to make friends with everyone, including those who do not speak a lick of english.

If you ask someone where a trash can is in Cairo, they will laugh at you and point at the ground.

I lost my Iphone somewhere. “What an idiot...” Blah Blah Blah...I know, I know. Long story short, for insurance purposes, we had to get a police report So, at around midnight, Kaitlyn and I went down to the busy bizarre and found the tourist police (police-like people seem to ubiquitous here). We were greeted by a guy seemingly ripped from a movie about foreign espionage, well-dressed in plain clothes, smoking, asking if we wanted something to drink, asking about our story of this phone. Yadda yadda yadda, next thing I know we are being escorted by a large mustached man (mustaches are extremely popular here) through the growing crowds of Egyptians, several blocks into the bizarre, as he pushes people out of our way to make a path. He takes us to what appeared to be a prison and pointed to a location we were to wait, as we heard screams and a what appeared to be a whip cracking somewhere in the building and men were standing in a line, some chained together, looking like they were being booked or something. We apparently had to get a stamp from this place on the report our original guy wrote up and the approval of another guy who seemed to be in charge of the entire operation. Two hours later, we were free to go. It was an incredible experience, to say the least, well worth the loss of my phone!

They love tea here, and it always must be drank from a glass, even on the street, which is odd.

The Nile is actually cleaner than expected.

"Welcome to Alaska" seems to be said by nearly everyone here...it was funny the first time....

"Yabba Dabba Dabba Doo..."

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 19:40:00 +0000

...Or something like that, incessantly yells a boy selling some sort of Kool Aid like packet outside our window in Essouaira. We are staying in a pink, dollhouse-esque room in the heart of the old medina, yet another UNESCO World Heritage site we've been able to see thus far in our trip. Thousands of passerbys move along in a seemingly neverending procession two stories beneath us carrying out their daily routines. The same men sell their vegetables, their sweet treats (much to Kaitlyn's delight), and their fresh meat products to their same customers day after day, in what seems to be a neverending cacophony of commerce, literally for 24 hours every day. Life is simple here, with little need for fancy brand names (other than the usual knock offs to appeal to the tourist demand, such as my sweet new "Ron-Beu" sunglasses) or even refrigeration for that matter since everything is fresh enough to eat.

We like it here. For the past three days, we've been able to "chillax" as the kids say, sit along the beach and really get to know the town. Essouaira has been the perfect final stop in our whirlwind tour of Morocco, a relaxing respite amongst an otherwise often chaotic first country on our grand world tour.

We arrived here by bus on Saturday morning, a delightful bus with air conditioning, wonderful seats and even a bathroom on board. It was, of course, with a company called Supratours, a bit more expensive than the local bus would have been, but a world more comfortable of a three hour ride. We decided to bail on Marrakech a bit earlier than expected due to Kaitlyn's own Friday the 13th horror story. The place we were staying at in Marrakech, aside from being equipped with such amenities as wi-fi internet, free breakfast, and our own bathroom with warm water (a first for us!), it seems to have also been furnished with a plethora of bed bugs, who absolutely feasted upon Kaitlyn. Being the master of funk that she is, Kaitlyn for whatever reason, seems to always draw various and random maladies, albeit poison ivy, mosquito bites, other unknown rashes and now bed bugs while I, on the other hand, perhaps turned off by my surly demeanor, seem to consistenly remain blemish free, which of course, only further added to Kaitlyn's dismay.

For those of you new to bed bugs, they are making a resurgence back in America, notably in high end hotels in the New York City area. There are no real ways to get rid of them. They are extremely tiny creatures that live in the crevasses of your mattress or box spring and come out at night to feast upon a host. They can survive for a year without eating. They make you itch incessantly and cause large red circular bumps, in Kaitlyn's case, almost cartoonishly red and huge, like she was starring in a broadway musical called "Mumps!" The good news, however, is that, in most scientific circles anyway, they do not carry disease and other than being a major annoyance, they are harmless.

Kaitlyn tried to go through the day as normal, and did a fine job of it I might add, though hour upon hour, she seemed to sprout new red circles until it got to the point of just being plain ridiculous. We packed up our stuff and headed down to the reception desk where we did our best to get out of paying for the day (as it was already 5:00 p.m.). I wrote out "bed bugs" in French on a piece of paper while Kaitlyn wearily displayed her "Marrakech markings," as we shall now call them, until the lady said it was okay for us to leave. We made our way to the bus station, fully frustrated with Marrakech and wanting to just get away from it all. We had to wait until the next morning to get out of town and into Essouaira, which was literally a breath of fresh ocean air.

We will be taking an overnight bus up to Casablanca tomorrow (Tuesday) and spend the beginning of the day checking out the world's third largest mosque before heading to the airport and onwards to Cairo, where we will meet with my old roommate and best friend, Chris Snyder, for the next two weeks between Egypt and Tanzania. Morocco will soon be behind us, an enchanting country to which we would both like to return to someday. We're done with our first country, never with a map or with a lick of French or Arabic, and came out okay! It was the perfect amount of time here and a great transition into the Arab and Muslim world we will inhabit for the next two months. It's kind of hard to believe that the trip has only just begun and we've already had so many unforgettable moments and experiences. The Pyramids are right around the corner...

Musings...

We ate at a Mexican restaurant cooked and owned by an older British couple in Essouaira. Yes, it was very good.

We sat on the roof of our hotel last night and ate dinner while an Arab woman in the window across from us, not realizing our presence, was deciding on which lingerie she was going to wear for the evening, and yes, we even saw her in her underpants

It's been nice to pee again...we've gotten used to just sweating it all out.

It's funny how aghast we can be over the price of things. A wonderful meal for two can cost around 140 dirhams, about $16.50, yet that is still so far out of our budget! And don't even get Kaitlyn started on the 2 dirhams for two sweets when yesterday the same guy gave her four sweets for that same amount.

Am I supposed to trim portions of my beard? The moustache portion is now extending over my lips and connecting with my chin portion and my mouth is somewhere underneath all this.

Kaitlyn is slowly becoming a sort of artsy, photographing gypsy as of late, complete with head scarf, dangling earrings, and smelly attire. And I like it, a lot.

You're taking this personal hygiene to a whole new level...

noreply@blogger.com (Kaitlyn) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 23:05:00 +0000

Famous last words?!?!...Joe told me that some point over the last few days and given our surroundings he's probably right. After our bus ride from hell we made it to fez which was really cool! (i'll do my best not to repeat things that Joe has said.) The people have been so nice and whenever I tell them I'm from America they get big eyes and say "a very big welcome." Its so sweet and genuine. We had a good time wandering through the alleys of fez that were jam packed with stalls of vendors selling everything from live chickens (though willing to ring their necks and skin them for you right there) to piles of womens bras. Quite a sight to see! We stayed at a riad which from my understanding, is a house that has been turned into a small hotel. It was really pretty and the people that ran it were so nice!

One night after a long day in the heat I talked joe into carrying a watermelon back with us unsure of how we would eat the thing that had been sweltering in the heat all day and she of course insisted on cutting it up and putting it in the fridge for us. She also hung some our clothes on the roof to dry and folded them. Which reminds me...Washing clothes in the bath tub is quite an endeavor! It takes forever to wash and really takes forever to dry. and then there is no warm, soft dryer fresh clothes to smell as a reward. Oh well...we are clean. sort of! (Hot water is a relative term, I have learned. Here it generally is accepted to mean any water not ice cold, which doesn't really exist anyhow.)

I hate not being able to speak the language and communicate with the people. Like with the sweet lady at our riad who didn't speak a lick of english, I - of course - continually try to communicate. I'm sure she wonders why I can't understand that she doesn't speak English or Spanish. (which even if she did I couldn't understand.) It really is a pitiful endeavor! But it makes me so sad to not be able to communicate with people.

Anyhow, we took a train out of Fez heading to Marrakesh. The ride started out well with just us and another business man in the booth, but took an unexpected turn for the worse when a young, well dressed and put together guy sat down next to me. After that, I got the most wretched wiff of body odor one could imagine with his every move. There is absolutely no way in the world that he could have not noticed the smell of himself! And it was so shocking because he looked so nicely dressed and was even reading a Time magazine in English. (after attempting conversation, I'm not sure how. Yes, I even attempted conversation with the smelly guy!) And I can't forget Don Juan with his hicky and girlfriend! Once his girlfriend got off he starting macking on another chick in our booth. It was quite entertaining!

After spending one night in sweat puddles, we are now at a nicer place and enjoying Marrakesh. It is quite touristy with snake charmers coming up and demanding payment for pictures while violin playing men try to insert themselves in your pictures in order to demand payment. But it still is a sight to see and an experience to be had and we are enjoying ourselves. We are of course, looking forward to a little r and r and breeze on the coast! =)

Thanks for all the comments, emails, etc. We love hearing from you and are currently uploading pictures so you can see some of the beautiful places we have been!

Kaitlyn

Scallywags and Whiskers

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 19:35:00 +0000

And here we are, on the outskirts of the Sahara desert in the dead of summer on the first day of the Islamic month of Ramadan. Marrakesh, forever conjuring up images of the exotic, the mysterious and the surreal, as it turns out, is a big fat disappointment. We have managed to avoid (seemingly) the tourist scene since our time in Morocco until our glorious nine hour train ride in a sweltering compartment with the sometimes French speaking, sometimes whisker plucking, and all the time smelly six rotating chamber mates pulled into its final stop of the day at around 9:30 p.m. Enthusiastic to be finally given the opportunity to escape from our railroad of despair, we hurried into the station, glad to be alive and well, and breathing the fresh air....of french fries and burgers! That's right, our reward for enduring the experience was a long anticipated (by me at least) treat of McDonalds...and a happy meal it was indeed! Surprisingly, finally fed up with tajines, mystery couscous, and the lure of gaily "trying new things" and the accompanying disappointment in my reluctance to do so, Ksitlyn was also eager to score some Golden Arches. We downed a meal, then another, and elatedly hailed a cab to the much anticipated Djemma el Fna, the historical epicenter of this supposedly magical city. Now as previously mentioned, a map or guidebook, we have not. "Just winging it..." I tell people with a nervous grin. As such, we headed down a side street to evade the massive spectacle of lights and smoke before us to find a place to crash for the evening. Without going into further detail, we found a place for 150 dirham, the equivalent of around $17.50, by far, the most inexpensive place we have stayed in thusfar. Borrowing from my favorite show Seinfeld, yadda yadda yadda, we are now staying in a different place which has afforded us our first opportunity to use wireless internet and upload some pictures.

Marrakesh reminds me of the New Jersey shore (no, not the show...definitely no guidos or guidettes here and based on our experiences thus far in close quarters with many of these people, the L of GTL is definitely missing [gym, tanning, laundry, get with it people!]) There are tourists galore and each souk (market) seems to exist solely for tourists to peruse through and glare at in wonder. There are motor bikes aplenty ready to run you down through the narrow passageways and swaths of humanity aimlessly wandering about. Today is the first day of Ramadan, a holy month for Muslims in which "good" Muslims are to abstain from eating, smoking, drinking (even water) and any other pleasures of life for the entirety of daylight. We have seen many shopkeepers sleeping in their stalls, reading the Quran, and dousing themselves with water to take their mind off the reality of the harsh heat around them.

Kaitlyn and I didnt know what to expect for Ramadan. We had no idea if we were even going to be able to get food or water anywhere, expecting the town to shut down. Instead, it is business as usual here, only without any of the locals really taking part in any of the eating or drinking. Tourists are too important to their economy to close shop altogether. Perhaps what irks me the most about the sheer abundance of tourists here is their inability to be the slightest bit considerate of the locals. It is considered impolite to eat or drink in public, not to mention in poor taste and a cause for unnecessary attention to wear revealing clothes. No matter though for most of these tourists....go ahead Maria from Spain, smoke that cigarette and munch on a kebob while you wear those tiny shorts and tank top and talk that old sweaty, thirsty Arab man down 2 dirham (about a quarter) for that souvenir you want. You're staying at Club Med....he's sleeping in that stall....Oh well! It's just obnoxious and I feel only adds to many Arabs' feelings of hostility towards the West.

But enough ranting.... Fes was one of the coolest places I have ever been. No trip to Morocco would be complete without a trip there. The old medina (walled city) is one of the largest car free environments on the earth. It was real Morocco, raw and unfiltered. There were toursists, but more locals than anything else. Locals doing everything from getting their meat for the day (camel heads, fresh chickens being slaughtered before our eyes, random hooves, ), to collecting vegetables and other daily necessities. The medina was impossible to navigate, with winding passageways and alleys through every twist and turn. Locals continuously offered to "guide" us...for a fee of course. I would mumble nonsense with different pitches of my voice to get them to leave us alone which they often did. People here speak Arabic. Most often know French and also bits and pieces of English and Spanish, enough to conduct whatever business they are trying to tout to tourists at least. Kaitlyn often likes to pretend she's Spanish to communicate with people whereas I prefer not to communicate other than the intelligble grunting and ignoring of others (I knew these traits of mine would come in handy!). The touts in Fes were a lot less pushy than they are here in Marrakesh, well other than one gentleman who had the audacity to call Kaitlyn a "scallywag," which according to wikipedia is a "southern white who supported Reconstruction following the Civil War," to which I must fault him for his backwords ideologies.

We're having a great time...pictures are posted and will continue to be posted while we are here in Marrakech. We will soon head to Essaouira along the coast for some down time along the waves and ocean breezes before catching our flight to Cairo on August 18. We love seeing your comments and knowing that people are as excited about our journey as we are! Keep them coming!

Hope everything is well with you all!

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?!?!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 20:54:00 +0000

If you have ever been to a `Wild West` city...you know, the kind with a fake sagebrush rolling across the one dirt road through the center of the town re-creation, you will perhaps be able to relate to today`s scenery aboard the `bus from hell,`as Kaitlyn so eloquently described it.

There were no buses to Fes today from Chefchaouen but we met some other travelers who told us to go through a town called Sidi Kassem, so we did, ever so gingerly. In what was supposed to be a three hour bus ride, we arrived at our destination five hours later, completely enveloped in sweat. It was a memorable experience, to say the least. Aside from the joys of waiting on the crowded, stagnant bus in the dead of summer, steps away from the Sahara desert on a windless day, just waiting for the driver to decide to go ahead and begin, you know, to drive, we were privy to see some truly authentic `towns,` the sort that can only be described as unique. Imagine the Wild West town, complete with cart pulling donkeys, people staring off into space outside their doors, and old men shuffling by with canes and years of wear on their faces. Now, imagine the Air Force dropping several bombs on the place, the people making a few repairs here and there, but then deciding that eh, it just wasnt worth it...it`just too hot and besides, who has the time anyway?! Gorgeous indeed.

It wasnt all so ùnique`, however. The views of the surrounding Rif Mountains really was beautiful and did not distract too much from the accompanying queasiness associated with the winding roads or the soaking wet blue noodle sitting beside me [Kaitlyn]. We met a Canadian couple on the bus traveling for a year who talked us into a night in Meknes, which is where we are right now. Their fluent French was again a godsend and their Lonely Planet guidebook really makes us think we should pick one up as being mapless, language-less, sweaty and hungry is making it more and more apparent to be an assinine endeavour (and I will use the U there...take that America!).

We have a train to catch in the morning to Fes where we will stay for a few days before heading to Marrakesh. Ramadan is set to begin on the 11th, though apparently not too much should be different. Other than not eating in public, we should be okay. The Arab world seems to come abuzz with activity when the sun comes down, and with the time apparently and yet mysteriously conveniently changing here today to be one hour earlier and again in a few days to another hour earlier, everything should be kosher (and I will use kosher there.....take that Arab world!)

We never really feel uneasy or nervous, other than not knowing where we are going or what people are saying....but other than that Mrs Lincoln, how was the play? But seriously though, Moroccans, to this point at least, have been very nice, patient, and not in our face too much. They seem to accept us as backpackers and our accompanying Western ways. Kaitlyn has worn longer shorts and pants and shirts with short sleeves and has not been gawked at too much, other than for how pretty she is anyway of course. All in all, things are going well!

Until Fez, I bid you adieu!

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Bus ride from hell?!?!

noreply@blogger.com (Kaitlyn) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 19:46:00 +0000

Yes, already...today we took a bus from chefchouan to another little city along our route to Fez. The bus, which resembled an American charter bus was far from what you may be thinking of! The "company"-note: I use the term loosely...its a room with a desk- sold more tickets than there were seats. Luckily, we got a seat because we were naive thinking it would leave on time; Unfortunately, many others, including the smelly business man standing with his armpit in my face was not so naive. Have I mentioned there was no air conditioning and one tiny little window cracked allowing me to get up and walk over for the occassional breather to ward off any heat and odor induced closterphobic tendancies I may have been developing. And yes, being a sweater, I was drenched in sweat; although smelling like a rose in comparison.

BUT...I would do it again to have gotten to see Chefchouan. What a beautiful city! And the people really were wonderful!! I never felt uncomfortable - although I did not venture far from Joe. No men grabbing or catcalling, which i have been warned to expect in other places like Egypt. For my first Arab country I must report that I am pleasantly surprised and impressed. I had mentally and physically prepared myself otherwise! I will post some pictures of the city so you can see how pretty the blue little mountain town was! All in all Morocco is beautiful and very friendly to tourists!

We have been lucky to have met some great travel companions along the way...today we met a Canadian couple on the bus who we then shared a cab with to a town about 30 minutes from where the bus let us off. We all assumed that the cab would be the 4 of us...trick! The driver insisted we sit four wide in the back and meanwhile two grown men sat double in the front seat. Haha! I am impressed by their green ways!?!?

It is interesting how muh western music they play...currently in this internet cafe they are playing "you have to know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away and know when to run." I feel right at home!

Shakrem....Or Gracias....Or Merci....

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 19:07:00 +0000

And....Here we are....Chefchaouen, Morocco! It all doesnt seem quite real yet. We had a wild day yesterday between the 6 hour train from Madrid to the port of Algeciras; Spain, to the ferry ride that seemed to take forever to ¨Tangiers¨, which then required a 40 minute bus ride to the actual city, and then a roller coaster 2 hour taxi ride to this small hillside village, arriving around 11 pm. No worries though as we picked up two fine assets on the ferry ride over, a lone Japanese girl who spoke French which came in handy and a globe trekking Aussie who was well prepared with knowledge. Together, we were safe and quite a team!

This is a gorgeous town, with blue building and amazing doorways surrounded by a medina, or fortified wall, with winding streets and alleyways, truly a great introduction to the country. We are unable to find wireless internet to use our computer but will try again tomorrow so stay tuned for a greater update and more pictures! These keyboards are rough! We will stay here tomorrow as well and relax some in this really authentic place before hitting the road again on Monday towards Fes.Until later, we are safe, happy, pinching ourselves because it seems like we are dreaming.......and yes, even still getting along!!!

And We're Off...

noreply@blogger.com (Kaitlyn) — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 22:30:00 +0000

We left today...finally! After all the packing and organizing, we are now en route to our great adventure, which currently consists of sitting in the Toronto airport. In a few hours we will be off to Madrid, arriving tomorrow morning around 11 am there.

The past few days we've been packing, unpacking, eliminating, prioritizing and repacking...

We had a few days to relax and take care of a few loose ends while spending time with family in Albany. My grandmother and sister and Joe's mom were all in town! It was wonderful to have them there and get some quality time with family...Plus, we had a good time relaxing and eating a few good meals before we left...unsure of what we will be eating for the next few months! (probably most traumatizing for joe.) We decided to add a "foods we eat" tab to our blog - so we'll do our best to decipher what it is exactly we are sustaining ourselves on!

Don't forget to comment on our blog and email to keep in touch...we are excited to hear from yall!

Kaitlyn

Chase Your Bliss Into the Abyss and Enjoy the Journey…

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 01:01:00 +0000

With one week left of work to go and Kaitlyn soon to be on her way to Tampa to take The Florida Bar exam over two glorious days of awesomeness I’m sure, the hours are ticking away before we embark on our flight to Madrid. Many people have been wondering how it is we can afford such an endeavor. Our budget is upwards of $15k a piece, though we would obviously like to keep it as low as possible. In addition to my stupendously paltry salary at the FJA from 8-5 plus each day, I also filled my days moonlighting as a tutor for five area kids, Craigslisted my way into being the “Senior Editor” of a pretty cool novel entitled Mid Ocean by Todd Cimino (oddly enough, the brother of the guy who did the movies The Deer Hunter and Footloose), worked as a U.S. Census worker, and even dabbled into the fine arts, almost becoming the next Bozo the Clown, classically trained in the school of balloon sculpting (for hire upon returning to America, fyi!) However, the bulk of my funds will be coming from stocks I have from when my father died when I was two. Whatever inheritance I had was invested and grew to a decent sum of which I was always told would go towards a down payment on a house. Now being 27 and having a plethora of friends that have flipped the switch and become “adults” with their houses and kids on the way and careers and whatnot, many of them have conveniently pointed out how an extra $15k would be a mighty fine down payment. However, that time will come soon enough and I’ve actually kind of been looking forward to it, which is a strange concept for me since I still feel like I’m 12 and “adulthood” has always seemed so foreign. I guess I’m a-growing up…

On that same note, I’ve recently been on a quest to better understand and know who my father was, since I was so young when he died. From what I know, he seemed like the kind of guy that would completely support a trip like this and encourage us every step of the way. He was a stoic man, soft-spoken with a voracious appetite for knowledge. While in high school in 1958 he wrote:

How many people of this present day world filled with fads, two tone automobiles and brand names know the true meaning of non-conformity, and how many of these people of the Atomic Age know how to trust their own judgment of the radio or television announcer…However it is to be expected of people who were bottle-fed with a background of harsh or coaxing words urging them to fly from their homes instantly and buy this or that. This is a minor evil of the younger generation.

Where is the person who would trust himself? He is the black sheep of the family circle, an outcast, and why? Because he knows his own mind. The world offers no reward to he who trusts himself, his mind is his own reward. Is that not enough?

I freaked out when I read this for the first time because it sounded so much like something I would say.

I never knew my dad nor will I ever really know if he would approve or disapprove of this round-the-world jaunt. But what I do know is that he would want me to follow my heart, “trust myself” and not be afraid of putting $15k towards “non-conformity” rather than a mortgage payment and doing it all with the girl I love.

Anybody can take a trip like this. Money and time are purely subjective. If you want to this, you can. If you want to move to LA and try to become a movie star, you can. If you want to become a doctor or start a bakery or write the next great American novel, you can, and you should. It’s all about priorities and what you make important in your life. Don’t be afraid to “trust yourself,” as my dad would say, and follow your dreams. Chase Your Bliss Into the Abyss and Enjoy the Journey…

Snyder Climbs Into Our Journey!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 23:18:00 +0000

I just talked to none other than Chris Snyder and he is going to accompany us along the journey from Cairo to Luxor and hike Mt. Kilimanjaro with us! For those of you unfamiliar with this person, Chris Snyder is my best friend in the world, my fellow Niceville High School and University of Florida graduate, and my roommate for most of the past 9 years. Before Kaitlyn came along, Snyder and I were dubbed "heterosexual life partners." Snyder actually got Kaitlyn's number before I did as a matter of fact.... Anyway, Snyder is Mr. Outdoorsman, a triathlete and all about nature. He will add a great deal to the trip and the climb and help to motivate us, push us along, and keep us safe while exploring Egypt and Tanzania. He just finished up his Masters program in sustainable energy from FSU and was recently studying abroad in Denmark. I haven't seen him since last year and look forward to our reunion halfway across the world!

(He doesn't have the moustache anymore...unfortunately.)

Nearly One Month To Go!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 19:55:00 +0000

The time is nearing for me to put in my two weeks notice and get my world trip "did," as they say. Our bank account has been set up and our visas for India, the only ones necessary to get in advance, have been applied for. Our shots (yellow fever, meningitis, polio, hepatitis, typhoid) are all currently circulating our bodies forming those wondrous antibodies. The only big things still left on the agenda are to purchase travel insurance and get a storage place for all our stuff. It is getting to be a long but very busy five week period, especially for Kaitlyn, as she preapres for The Bar.

We're almost ready world...Are you ready for us?!?!

Motivation!

noreply@blogger.com (Pasian Peter) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 19:35:00 +0000

These are some pretty awesome quotes about traveling I found to motivate us along when things get rough...

1. “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” – Mark Twain

2. “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine

3. “There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

4. “The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.” – Samuel Johnson

5. “All the pathos and irony of leaving one’s youth behind is thus implicit in every joyous moment of travel: one knows that the first joy can never be recovered, and the wise traveler learns not to repeat successes but tries new places all the time.” – Paul Fussell

6. “Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” – Jack Kerouac

7. “He who does not travel does not know the value of men.” – Moorish proverb

8. “People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home.” – Dagobert D. Runes

9. “A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.” – John Steinbeck

10. “No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang

11. “Your true traveler finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty-his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.” – Aldous Huxley

12. “All travel has its advantages. If the passenger visits better countries, he may learn to improve his own. And if fortune carries him to worse, he may learn to enjoy it.” – Samuel Johnson

13. “For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

14. “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller14. “Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.” – Cesare Pavese

15. “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

16. ″A traveler without observation is a bird without wings.” – Moslih Eddin Saadi

17. “When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” – D. H. Lawrence

18. “To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” – Freya Stark

19. “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

20. “Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

21. “All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” – Martin Buber

22. “We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” – Jawaharial Nehru

23. “Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going.” – Paul Theroux

24. “To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” – Bill Bryson

25. “Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

26. “Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by.” – Robert Frost

27. “A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” – Lao Tzu

28. “There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.” – Charles Dudley Warner

29. “A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” – Lao Tzu

30. “If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.” – James Michener

31. “The journey not the arrival matters.” – T. S. Eliot

32. “A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.” – Tim Cahill

33. “I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.” – Mark Twain

34. “Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quiestest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.” – Pat Conroy

35. “A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” – Lao Tzu

36. “Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.” – Benjamin Disraeli

37. “Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” – Maya Angelou

38. “Too often travel, instead of broadening the mind, merely lengthens the conversation.” – Elizabeth Drew

39. “Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe”……Anatole France

40. “Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind.” – Seneca

41. “What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do – especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.” – William Least Heat Moon

42. “I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” – Lillian Smith

43. “To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.” – Aldous Huxley

44. “Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.” – Freya Stark

45. “The first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it.” – Rudyard Kipling

46. “Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.” – Paul Theroux

47. “The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – G. K. Chesterton

48. “When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable. It is designed to make its own people comfortable.” – Clifton Fadiman

49. “A wise traveler never despises his own country.” – Carlo Goldoni

50. “Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” – Mark Jenkins

And some others...

50. Kilometers are shorter than miles. Save gas, take your next trip in kilometers.” – George Carlin

49. “Every perfect traveler always creates the country where he travels.” – Nikos Kazantzakis

48. “Our Nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.” – Blaise Pascal

47. “It is a strange thing to come home. While yet on the journey, you cannot at all realize how strange it will be.” – Selma Lagerf

46. “Remember that happiness is a way of travel – not a destination.” – Roy M. Goodman

45. “Clay lies still, but blood’s a rover / Breath’s aware that will not keep. / Up, lad: when the journey’s over there’ll be time enough to sleep.” – A. E. Housman

44. “As the traveler who has once been from home is wiser than he who has never left his own doorstep, so a knowledge of one other culture should sharpen our ability to scrutinize more steadily, to appreciate more lovingly, our own.” – Margaret Mead

43. “Too often. . .I would hear men boast of the miles covered that day, rarely of what they had seen.” – Louis L’Amour

42. “Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” – Fitzhugh Mullan

41. “One main factor in the upward trend of animal life has been the power of wandering.” – Alfred North Whitehead

40. “The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself.” – William Least Heat Moon

39. “Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone.” – The Dhammapada

38. “Our deeds still travel with us from afar, and what we have been makes us what we are.” – George Eliot

37. “Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see.” – Samuel Johnson, on the Giant’s Causeway

36. “An involuntary return to the point of departure is, without doubt, the most disturbing of all journeys.” – Iain Sinclair

35. “Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” – Lisa St. Aubin de Teran

34. “Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.” – Alan Keightley

33. “Half the fun of the travel is the aesthetic of lostness.” – Ray Bradbury

32. “Bizarre travel plans are dancing lessons from God.” – Kurt Vonnegut

31. “We wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.” – Hilaire Belloc

30. “I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” – Susan Sontag

29. “I should like to spend the whole of my life in traveling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt

28. “A child on a farm sees a plane fly overhead and dreams of a faraway place. A traveler on the plane sees the farmhouse… and thinks of home.” – Carl Burns.

27. “I love to travel, but hate to arrive.” – Albert Einstein

26. “Don’t tell me how educated you are, tell me how much you traveled.” – Mohammed

25. “One always begins to forgive a place as soon as it’s left behind.” – Charles Dickens

24. “When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels.” – Edward Dahlberg

23. “Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.” – Frank Herbert

22. “Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did now know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.” – Italo Calvino

21. “He who has seen one cathedral ten times has seen something; he who has seen ten cathedrals once has seen but little; and he who has spent half an hour in each of a hundred cathedrals has seen nothing at all.” – Sinclair Lewis, on sightseeing.

20. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance.” – Bumper sticker

19. “Travel at its truest is thus an ironic experience, and the best travelers… seem to be those able to hold two or three inconsistent ideas in their minds at the same time, or able to regard themselves as at once serious persons and clowns.” – Paul Fussell

18. “Most of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting.” – Robert Thomas Allen

17. “I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.” – Mary Anne Radmacher Hershey

16. “Only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness. All other travel is mere dust and hotels and baggage and chatter.” – John Muir

15. “When you’re traveling, ask the traveler for advice / not someone whose lameness keeps him in one place.” – Rumi

14. “There are only two emotions in a plane: boredom and terror.” – Orson Welles

13. “To be on a quest is nothing more or less than to become an asker of questions.” – Sam Keen

12. “The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.” – G. K. Chesterton

11. “When you are everywhere, you are nowhere / When you are somewhere, you are everywhere.” – Rumi

10. “When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money.” – Susan Heller

9. “The autumn leaves are falling like rain / Although my neighbors are all barbarians / And you, you are a thousand miles away / There are always two cups at my table.” – T’ang dynasty poem

8. “It is not down in any map; true places never are.” – Herman Melville

7. “People don’t take trips – trips take people.” – John Steinbeck

6. “We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

5. “It’s a battered old suitcase and a hotel someplace and a wound that will never heal.” – Tom Waits

4. “The map is not the territory.” – Alfred Korzybski

3. “It is solved by walking.” – Algerian proverb

2. “He who would travel happily must travel light.” – Antoine de Saint Exupéry

1. “What am I doing here?” – Arthur Rimbaud, writing home from Ethiopia