One Great Dewdrop

Dogsledding (A Damn Fine Adventure)

2012-01-26T11:27:00.000-05:00

It's been well over eight months since I've written. As evidenced by this post, I'm still alive--alive and kickin', dreaming and scheming. Some days more so than others, to be honest. I'm glad I took a little break from writing, but little breaks turn into big breaks more quickly than you'd imagine. I'd been waiting for a damn fine adventure to end the big break from writing, and I finally had one:

Dogsledding.

Cornell Outdoor Education put together a group of instructors for a week long winter camping, cross-country skiing, and dogsledding expedition in the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota, hosted and guided by three instructors from the Voyaguer Outward Bound base near Ely.

most amazing pantry ever

We had one full and fun day of preparations. We sorted and packed gear and food in the enormous, well-outfitted trips building (I almost fainted when I saw Outward Bound's pantry). Outside, we tried out our skis for a brief intro to skiing lesson. It was my first time on skis in three winters (how sad), but my legs soon remembered their groove.

At 3:00 p.m. we headed to the dog yard for dogsledding 101. Walking into the dog yard for the first time is an unforgettable experience: 63 dogs barking, jumping, yapping, lurching, howling, begging to be put on a line and given a chance to pull. (By the end of the week, I would be nearly immune to the sound of dogs barking and howling.)

something about milkshakes and a yard? i don't remember...

These dogs aren't indoor pets. They have one goal and only one purpose in life: to pull as hard as they can in a forward direction. As such, they're treated like a precious, albeit feisty and defiant, piece of equipment. You shove your leather mitt under their collars, stand them on their hind legs, and walk them around. If they're on four wheel drive--i.e. all four paws on the ground--they will walk you instead of the other way around. They sleep outside, eat chunks of lard before bed, wake up covered in frost, and don't seem to mind very much.

I, on the other hand, do mind very much when I wake up covered in frost, which is what I did for five consecutive nights. Sleeping warm in a very cold climate is just as much performance art as technical skill. The night before the expedition, we slept outside the trips building to practice our systems with the psychological comfort and physical safety of a heated building just steps away. I didn't sleep much that first night. I was excited, and though I was mostly warm, my mind churned over the question of "I wonder when I'm gonna get cold."

And then... we were off!

five days and four nights away from civilization and everything uncivilized about it

Our days went like this.

A group of five skiers left camp first thing in the morning. They broke trail for the dogs, orienteered with map and compass, checked the trails for hazards like downed trees that could snarl the sleds, and used a hatchet to check the thickness of the ice. The skiers glided over frozen lakes, cutting through dense spruce forests at sections of rapids where the ice wasn't thick enough to support the sleds. Those sections were called "crashes" for a reason.

spruce forest crash

The four mushers stayed behind in camp, packing up the two sleds and hooking the dogs to their lines. After the skiers got a decent head start, the mushers followed behind. Especially on the flat, smooth lakes, the sleds soon caught up to the skiers. Skiers and mushers played tag for the rest of the day.

from the sled

As the sun pulled lower to the horizon, skiers likewise pulled into a bay, close to shore, where we would camp on the flat frozen lakeshore for the evening. First order of business was to get the dogs out of their harnesses and onto their chain line for the night. At this point in the day, I never got any gruff from the dogs--they were content after a day of pulling, eager for dinner, and ready to snuggle into the snow.

-20 degrees (-30 for you metric peeps)

Staying warm requires food to burn and/ or activity to burn it, plus insulation to catch the heat your body loses. Skiers stayed warmer than mushers during the day due to physical activity, so when I was mushing, I made a point of stomping circles around my tipped-over sled any time we stopped. Sometimes I jumped off the sled and ran along the side of it, hands always gripping the handlebar.

Staying warm once the sleds and skis were packed away for the night used the same concept: keep moving, keep eating, stay insulated. We spent a lot of time processing firewood, felling dead trees, sawing logs, and splitting pieces. We shoveled lots of snow to make benches, firewood processing areas, and one night a series of windbreaks. We set up tarps for sleeping, and on two of the four backcountry nights, we set up a large canvas wall tent with a small metal stove.

evening chores: chop, saw, burn

With evening chores nearly complete, our instructors did all of the dinner cooking--what a vacation! Food was great, way heartier and fattier than my usual trail chow. Even with the massive amounts I put away, I lost a bit of weight (all of my work clothes feel much looser than usual). Around our dinner fire, we took off our heavy boots, then our wool socks, then our VBLs (vapor barrier layers, i.e. plastic bags), and finally our liner socks. So strange to be barefoot in the snow, but you gotta dry out those little piggies to avoid foot funk.

Every night, about a half-hour after dinner, I started to get cold. My body cooled off from the day's activity, all of my blood was hanging out in my gut to digest dinner, and I'd been sitting on one layer of padding on top of a snow bench. Eventually, I figured out that I needed more padding under my butt, and that pushing and pulling the sleds back and forth for a while warmed me up enough to get into my sleeping bags warm.

Then, sweet dreams. I slept better and better as the nights went on, until I was sleeping through the night without waking at the end of the trip, even when the mercury dropped to twenty below. I always woke up ravenous and just starting to feel the chill as the sun rejoined the lakes.

dawn

The trip was a fantastic experience. I went in without very many expectations, but I will say that it was physically easier and not as cold as I thought it would be. Our three instructors did a great job showing us how to stay warm, and with a cheerful attitude, -10 F isn't frightening. We had a stellar team; though there was so much work to do, we had nine hard workers to do it. Outward Bound as an organization has an amazing perspective and stands for some really important principles.

Just the adventure I needed.

the COE group :-)

I took a ton of photos, and my favorites are in this album. Check them out--the few that I added in this post do not tell the whole story!

Adjustment

2011-05-04T12:30:00.005-04:00

Going up and up and up and over the snowy Rockies. Down into the flat, empty, boring plains of eastern Colorado and Kansas. Kansas goes on forever. Missouri does, too. Grass, silos, the occasional oil well. There goes the St. Louis arch. Now southern Illinois and suddenly there are trees instead of grass. Indiana and small towns.

Kentucky and the road gets narrower, closer to the creek, the hillsides getting steeper. Bluegrass, bourbon, Daniel Boone, Appalachian Kentucky. We tucked our tent into the tent city behind Miguel's and climbed while hiding from thunderstorms. I saw my first funnel cloud forming in the sky, a weird sense of clouds going both ways at once before my brain suddenly thought of Toto and flying cows. The steep climbing in Red River Gorge is outstanding, as is the community. I had my personal best day of climbing, completely relaxed and not attached to anything other than my fingers and toes on the rock.

Moving on. I felt like I was going faster, time was speeding up, everything was more intense the farther east I went. Is that always true? The green of western Virginia (not West Virginia) was unsettling after two months in beige and brown. I recognized this landscape as familiar and pondered why it didn't feel that way. North Carolina and holy heaven so many people. How can it be so crowded here? Where are stillness and silence? Why is everything happening so fast, yet nothing is happening? Speeding up through Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey.

And now: New York State. Tompkins County. City of Ithaca.

I sit at a desk in return for money. I cook on a stove and always have a shower at my disposal. I make plans more than 24 hours in advance. I don't wear hiking boots.

I used to live like this. This used to be my normal, so part of me remembers this. I know the streets of Ithaca like the back of my hand. I'm sitting in the same cubicle in the same office (I even found some old tea I'd left in a drawer). I take the same shortcuts, shop in the same grocery store, hang out with the same people. I've slipped right back through a door that I'd thought I'd slammed shut, padlocked, bolted three times, and nailed shut with boards. It's as if I'd stayed at home for just a few days due to a nasty case of the flu, then reappeared in society. Occasionally I get a weird sense of deja vu when something is slightly different. But everything is pretty much the same.

Except I'm different. I stumble when anyone asks if and how I've changed. (Most people, though, haven't asked much about my experiences--I look the same, talk the same, even dress in my old clothes, so what could be different?). Well, of course I'm different. With every second of the minute, I, and you, and every one in this world, are changing. I'm not prepared to elaborate on my changes from the past year in a public way. I've been handed some pretty huge life lessons and perspectives, and I need to take some time to myself to make sure they stick around. I'm sure I'll write again, at some point, when I have a better idea of what I want to say (and what I want to do with this blog in the future).

Southern Utah

2011-04-04T15:57:00.001-04:00

Southern Utah... where to begin... I'll start with... AMAZING!

Ok, ok, I won't use too many superlatives. But my time here was, uh, really, really amazing. Alright enough of this. Here's the rundown...

our route through southern utah

Zion National Park: I had no idea what I'd find in Zion—all I knew was "big canyon." Then these thousand-plus foot cliffs came out of nowhere:

daaay-amn

We hiked to Angel's Landing. I didn't know why it's called Angel's Landing until I was looking down from this:

If you're in a good mental place at this point, you think that angels probably land in the middle of the canyon. If you're in a bad mental place at this point, you're praying to the angels!

I've turned back from a trail only once in my life; Angel's Landing nearly became the second. The first 2 miles are super easy. The last half-mile is 3rd to 4th class scrambling up a steep narrow razorback ridge with 1200 foot drops on either side to a platform that feels suspended in heaven above the valley. It's not hard, physically, but it's a bit of a mind trip! Hang on to those chains!

The way down was easier than the way up. For sure.

I wish we'd spent more time in Zion, but we weren't sure how much time we'd have before we needed to head east, so we moved on. I would love to return here some day.

Bryce Canyon National Park: Zion is big; Bryce is intricate. It's known for its pillars of rock, called hoodoos. This is a really fun word to say again and again. Go ahead. I'm not listening. Right, eh?

these are hoodoos. multi-colored hoodoos!

We did the "figure eight" track between the Queen's Garden, Peek-a-boo Trail, and Navajo Trail, which covers the Bryce Amphitheater pretty well. The park was still covered in snow, which was so beautiful.

hoodoo in the snow

Grand Staircase – Escalante National Monument: This place is enormous, and we only scratched the surface. In that tiny scratch, though, we managed to come up with some of the most fantastic, beautiful, fun experiences of this entire trip... slot canyons!

kicking up my heels for a bit of rest!

We went through Peek-a-boo Canyon and Spooky Canyon.

Peek-a-boo Canyon was soooo beautiful, with sandstone of pink, orange, samon, gold, yellow, and white sculpted into fins, swirls, and arches. It also involved some fun scrambling and climbing.

beautiful peek-a-boo canyon's salmon-colored sandstone

Spooky Canyon was darker, gloomier, and pretty tight in places—maybe ten inches wide—not wide enough to pass through with a backpack (hint: balance it on your head or kick it forward with your foot).

making my way through spooky canyon... a "dramatic" action shot

Neither canyon was technical or particularly difficult, but it was a perfect introduction to slot canyons. Next time, I really want to try something a bit more technical, more than just wandering and scrambling.

a tight spot in spooky

Capitol Reef National Park: I hadn't heard of Capitol Reef before this trip, but I think it's as visually stunning as the Grand Canyon or Zion. It's a big uplift of the Earth's crust, so the different layers of sandstone are visible, along with other domes, buttes, and mesas. We were only passing through, but I'd love to return in order to explore more.

beautiful rock formations in capitol reef national park

Glen Canyon National Recreation Area: Another place that was totally not on my radar, Glen Canyon has enormous, dramatic red cliffs. It seems like the type of place where you could park on the side of the road and wander off to explore. We spent a night on the banks of the Dirty Devil River, before crossing over the Colorado River. Another place I'll come back to explore!

camping next to the dirty devil river in glen canyon national recreation area

Natural Bridges National Monument: If something like this were on the East Coast, it would be a major tourist destination. Because it's in Southern Utah, it's meh. There are three big, white sandstone bridges. Worth a quick stop (that's all we gave it) and not much more.

this is a natural bridge

Canyonlands National Park: Canyonlands is actually three "parks," separated by the Colorado and Green Rivers. We went to The Needles section to do, what else, some hiking. Because it was supposed to be warm that day, I decided to wear my Chacos; I had to end the hike early because of pains in my feet. Wondering if all of this hiking has given me a stress fracture or tendon damage or something. :-(

before i busted my foot

the needles section of canyonlands national park

Arches National Park: The way timing worked out, we went into Arches on three separate days. The first day, not knowing how much time we'd spend in Arches, we only did the scenic drive and walked to a distant viewpoint of Delicate Arch.

eyeballin' delicate arch

The second day was rainy and dreary. Oh no! This is supposed to be the desert! Maybe someone would cancel their spot on the ranger-guided Fiery Furnace walk... and someone did. Once again, a lack of planning got us a last minute ticket on something that's usually booked well in advance.

fiery furnace walk

By the time we were done, the rain was clearing up, so we continued our hiking day with the loop through Devil's Garden via the Primitive Trail, marveling at the sandstone fins and arches. Pretty cool place.

resting at partition arch

The third day ended up being our rest day. We hung out in Moab at the library and grocery store (exciting, I know). That evening, we walked out to Delicate Arch to see it up close.

the classic delicate arch photo

San Rafael Swell: If you're in a slot canyon, you can bet your PB n' J that anyone you meet will mention "that guy who got stuck and cut off his own arm." Yeah, it happened in a slot here in the San Rafael Swell. No, I don't think it will ever happen in Little Wild Horse Canyon.

a pretty picture of the little wild horse slot canyon

This was another non-technical slot canyon that someone recommended to us. Very non-technical—it was packed with families with young children on the day we hiked it. The narrows were quite pretty, and some sections were indeed fairly narrow, but it would be hard to beat Peek-a-boo and Spooky!

Southern Utah is... well... the best word I can use is: AMAZING! Not only is it superbly beautiful, many of the most amazing places are easy to explore and not in National Parks, so there's more freedom to camp and hike on previously disturbed areas using LNT principles. It's really easy not to see anyone if you want to be alone. You know you've been in Southern Utah for a while when seeing two cars at the trailhead makes you grumble about crowds!

Eastbound, At Last

2011-03-29T15:45:00.000-04:00

For the first time in well over a year, I'm headed eastbound instead of westbound. Moving westbound last year, west and farther west still, brought me around the globe—and then I continued west, again, this year.

Always chasing the setting sun, I've occasionally wondered if my perpetual westward heading related to some conclusion in the broader context of my life. Cutting myself free closed one chapter. This year I'll turn 29, completing my 30th year on this planet. As I turn eastbound, toward the rising sun, I can't help but think about beginnings, about joyfully opening a new chapter, and about everything I can look forward to. :-)

sunrise over tuateawa bay, new zealand

Anyway! What's happened since I've turned eastbound? Seems like my priority has been adventuring, rather than writing about adventures. Some day I'll write more about my time out West. But, for now, here's a quick update, starting from California.

San Francisco: I rejoined Davo, and we went to Muir Woods so he could see the Redwood trees. John Muir is quite an inspiration to me (this blog is named for one of his quotations). The place was crammed with people, even though it was raining, so it wasn't really a place for quiet contemplation and reflection.

golden gate bridge, after the rain

That evening, we hung out with Jenny O, an awesome woman we know from Ithaca. The weather sucked, so we decided to move on to...

Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks: which we did not get to visit. Still snowed in, tire chains required. We continued on to...

Death Valley National Park: In the hottest, driest place in North America, I experienced the worst, coldest, wettest, nastiest weather of the road trip when a freak storm blew through. There was tons of rockfall across Towne Pass; we checked in with four cars disabled on the side of the road in poor visibility with rocks still falling around them as it snowed. So that's why they call it Death Valley!

"colorful"--for the desert--salt creek, home of the salt creek pupfish

Death Valley was more interesting than I expected, because of all of the organisms that have evolved to survive in this environment. Life will find a way! It was also more photogenic than I expected, with colorful badlands next to pure white salt flats under a blue desert sky.

Red Rocks National Conservation Area: Red Rocks NCA is ten miles in distance and a million miles in feeling from the Las Vegas strip. We did a half-day hike up Turtlehead Peak.

And, of course, we climbed! It was my first experience on desert sandstone, and I enjoyed the awesome weather, amazing scenery, super sticky rock, and very chilled out vibe. (Not going to lie, it was a nice, undeserved ego boost to climb about two grades harder than I do on the East Coast.)

red rocks panorama

The BLM campsite was totally full, but we found some guys from Colorado who had room for an extra car. Put a bunch of strangers around a campfire and you'd be surprised what wisdom results. I loved Red Rocks, and I would definitely return some day.

Grand Canyon National Park: Moving on to the Grand Canyon, I had no idea what we'd do. The weather wasn't great—overcast and spitting snow—so my first impressions of the canyon weren't, well, very impressive. Plus, backcountry camping permits book out months in advance.

Yet somehow our lack of planning and total flexibility snagged us a permit for Indian Garden! We hung out on the rim for a day and camped outside the park in Kaibab National Forest. The next day, we hiked 5,000 vertical feet down the canyon (via South Kaibab Trail), took lunch on the Colorado River, and hiked back up the canyon 2,000 vertical feet (via Bright Angel Trail). The next morning, we hiked out the remaining 3,000 vertical feet, in sunshine for the first time.

with the colorado river below us

Everyone talks about the Grand Canyon like it's the most amazing place on earth. I thought it was really impressive, but something about the hordes of people and the overly-maintained trails kept me from connecting with the Canyon. It is much more of a tourist attraction than a wilderness experience, which is fine—just not my cup of tea.

For personal and family reasons, I assumed that our southwestern adventures would probably end here. But a sweet turn of events meant that we continued to southern Utah... and that deserves a post of its own!

California or Bust!

2011-03-18T19:03:00.000-04:00

I had a week to go from Los Angeles to San Francisco while Dave had a job on the East Coast. I decided to head up the scenic Pacific Coast Highway, Route 1.

Santa Monica National Recreation Area: When I think of heaven, this is what I imagine... happy little hiking trails, cliff faces, lots of green, trickling creeks, blooming wildflowers, bird song... ahhh it was just so darn pretty! I hiked the Mishe Mokwa Trail to TriPeaks, where I went off trail and almost stepped on a snake (sorry buddy!), to the Backbone Trail to Sandstone Peak, the highest in the Santa Monica Mountains.

I wanted to hike in the Angeles National Forest, but a lot of the trails are still closed due to the Station Fire back in 2008. A few different rangers suggested checking out the Morro Bay area outside San Luis Obispo, so I headed there.

Montana de Oro State Park & Morro Bay: Let me tell you, this isn't the Jersey Shore or Malibu! Tidal pools packed with anemones and hermit crabs... cliffs dropping straight into the churning surf... dense fog rolling in off the water and turning everything dream-like. I'm not much of a beach person, I prefer the mountains, but I'm glad I went here to experience the California coast.

The next day, I decided to walk up Cerro Cabrillo, Cabrillo Hill. It's something less than 1,000 feet, like 3 miles round-trip, I thought I'd knock it off in an hour. Holy crap on toast, I was wrong! The first third is a gentle uphill on a wide track. The second third is a respectable uphill puffer on a beaten-earth track. And the final third? Bushwhacking through poison oak while avoiding snakes. I totally lost the track on the way back down and survived the whackest of bushwhacks I've ever experienced. I'm going to burn the pants I was wearing because I'm positive they're infused with 100% poison oak oil and will never be safe to wear ever again. It was nasty and awesome.

the look on my face after the bushwhack... WHEW!

Route 1 and Big Sur: how to describe the California coast... MOODY. Not spectacular, not dramatic, not serene, but rather... infused with subtle feelings. Everything here is a shade of gray, especially when the fog rolls in, which is always. It seems like this would be the place to reach some sort of far-reaching personal conclusion about the workings of something or other. Does that sound weird? Something about the loneliness of driving this road in the middle of the week... how the waves keep crashing, crashing, crashing against an unobserved cliff... the way the fog burns off the peaks of the ridges before the valleys...

I visited Big Sur and day-hiked the famous Pine Ridge Trail. It would make an awesome backpacking trip.

I was surprised to learn that Big Sur is the far southern end of the range of the great Redwood tree. Most of the trees I saw were freaking huge by east-coast standards, but rather puny by Redwood standards. I decided to head farther north in search of the giants.

the trees might not be huge, but the banana slugs are!

And then the highway fell into the ocean. Oh, s***. At first, I heard it would be closed 3-7 days. Now crews say a month. I backtracked a few hours and went up and over the Santa Lucia mountains.

AP Photo/Monterey Herald, Orville Myers, http://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/20110318/WIRE/110319452?Title=Hwy-1-on-state-s-central-coast-may-be-closed-a-month

Big Basin Redwoods State Park: Why this park? I don't have a good reason, other than acknowledging that something told me in no uncertain terms that I had to go. I've learned not to second guess those intuitions.

It was AMAZING. The little half-mile "Redwoods Trail" brought me past some of the largest trees in the park.

the "father of the forest" is 66 feet, 9 inches around

the "mother of the forest" is 329 feet tall and 70 feet around. take that, dad!

I also walked the Skyline to Sea Trail to the Dool Trail to the Creeping Forest Trail. This park wins on trail names alone! The forest was SO lush, SO green, and then there are monster trees everywhere.

a bridge made out of a downed redwood

The hardest part of being a bum in California has been finding non-sketchy, non-illegal places to sleep at night. I really wanted a break from the stress of figuring out where I would park for the night, so I paid for a campsite in the park, nestled in a grove of redwoods, right next to a shower block (aaahhh!). Wisely, I slept in the car and awoke to the pitter-patter of raindrops sliding off the redwoods, my tent still dry under the car seat. I stayed in my sleeping bag until 9:30 a.m. when I reasoned that I had been hibernating for 12 hours.

campsite among the redwoods

Hanging out with the redwoods was a very peaceful experience. Some of these trees were seedlings during the Byzantine Empire... saplings during the Dark Ages... already eight feet in diameter when Columbus landed in the Americas. Spending any length of time in a grove of redwoods reminds me that I am very small and very insignificant. Not in a bad way, though. It feels reassuring to know that there was so much before me and there will be so much after and beyond me.

From Arizona to California

2011-03-18T17:59:00.000-04:00

It's raining. On the one hand: bummer. On the other hand: I can hang out in this nice library surrounded by books and write a few updates! Picking up where I left off...

Cochise Stronghold: After Saguaro National Park, we climbed a day at Cochise Stronghold. Our couchsurf hosts spoke highly of the place, and they were right. Fantastic granite and thought-provoking moves, even on the easy stuff. This day, though, I missed my climbing friends in Ithaca and wished that we were together.

yucca and cochise granite

Then California!

Joshua Tree National Park: the Joshua Trees look so odd, like something Dr. Seuss would draw. We did a day hike out into the desert and up a canyon. I'm sick of desert hiking. Just not the type of place where I feel at home, comfortable, refreshed, at peace--how I usually feel after hiking.

We climbed a half-day since we had quickdraws but no trad rack. Ooops! We climbed on Pixie Rock... lots of smearing and lots of open grip hands. I desperately attempted to crimp on microscopic numbs and to edge on non-existent features before I gave in to the style the rock required. Then it went ok, and I climbed my first outside 5.10 (no cheating, this time!).

I thought I would love JTree, but I only liked it.

joshua tree and sunset

San Bernardino National Forest: This was an unexpected stop, since we left JTree early. AWESOME!!! We hiked the Cougar Crest trail out of Big Bear City to the famous Pacific Crest Trail and Bertha Peak. The northern slopes were still snow-covered, and there were trees and shrubs everywhere overlooking the lake and the ski slopes beyond. After a month in the parched, beige and brown desert, this was like awakening!

view of big bear lake from the pacific crest trail (PCT)

We volunteered with the Bald Eagle annual census and spotted an adult eagle soaring across the lake!

our eagle census sheet

After the San Bernardinos, I drove Dave to LAX so he could fly back to the East Coast for a rope access job. And then, I was on my own!

Briefest of Brief Updates

2011-03-13T13:28:00.000-04:00

Current location: Santa Monica, California

Heading: N by NW (i.e. San Francisco)

Realization: I'm so totally, hopelessly behind on pictures and blogging and blahblahblah computer crap. And I don't care! I simply can't/ won't/ don't make time to get on the computer. Not when there are trails to hike, mountains to scale, cliffs to climb, and roads yet to be explored.

Announcement: Regular photo and blog updates will re-re-commence when I've got the time and inclination to tell the story.

Until then... onwards and upwards!

white sands national monument

Adventures on the Border

2011-03-06T18:58:00.000-05:00

Holy smokes! So much has happened since Big Bend it's hard to know where to start (and how to prevent this from turning into ten pages of blahblahblah).

This was our route:

We've been following the southwestern border with Mexico because it's still a bit too cold to venture farther north.

And here are a few highlights from each place we've visited:

Guadalupe Mountains National Park, Texas: Our hiking plans were foiled once by winds gusting to 80 mph. Nearly foiled again by a backcountry fire! We hiked Guadalupe Peak, elevation 8749 feet, the highest point in Texas. Also, I earned my Junior Ranger badge and patch.

Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico: The caves are more vast and more highly decorated (stalagtites, stalagmites, the whole deal) than you could possibly imagine. We walked down the Natural Entrance and around the Big Room. Though there were facilities for throngs of tourists, we had the entire silent, eerie place to ourselves (yay February visit!).

White Sands National Monument, New Mexico: I thought this would be cheesy, but WHOA it's SO cool! It was so much fun to run up and down the dunes, throwing sand and ourselves into the air, enjoying the contrast between the pure white sand and the brilliantly blue sky.

Las Cruces, New Mexico: Shitty weather and a need to talk to someone other than each other led us to another fantastic Couchsurfing host. I helped her made "authentic" Southwestern enchiladas with mole, played with the three dogs, and chatted about outdoor adventures.

Franklin Mountains State Park, Texas: Our Couchsurfing hosts tipped us off to a little crag called Sneed's Cory outside El Paso. Dave got to christen his new rope, and I made my first sport lead outdoors (on Spirit, 5.6).

Gila National Forest, Wilderness, and Cliff Dwellings, New Mexico: A return to pine forests after three weeks in sandy scrub was refreshing... and COLD! Overnight temps fell to 15-25º F. Chuck, our volunteer tour guide, made the Cliff Dwellings mysterious and exciting. We did an overnight trip up the Little Bear Canyon—a narrow, undulating crack—to camp at its junction with the Middle Fork of the Gila River under soaring, red cliffs. I accomplished 32 stream crossings without whining or anxiety to get from camp to the Jordan Hot Springs and back.

Saguaro National Park, Arizona: The saguaro cacti remind me of human-like trees, or tree-like humans, and they are delightful. In our wanderings around the Sonoran desert, we missed a turn and ended up in a dead-end canyon. Dave continued bushwhacking, while I tucked myself into a rock overcrop with my journal and my thoughts.

At the moment I'm in Tucson, a city whose highways and boulevards sprawl in every direction, a city with abundant sunshine and air but no water (like most southwestern cities, I guess). Today is our rest day, which means RESTING, and also straightening up the car, getting an oil change, putting together some food, internet time at the County Library, and catching up with friends and family.

From here, we're thinking of backtracking east a bit to Cochise Stronghold for a day of climbing, then continuing (surprise, surprise!) west to Joshua Tree National Park in California. We will be in Los Angeles by the 13th for Dave to fly to a job on the East Coast.

Those are the updates for now; library is closing so I gotta run! I'll write again the next time I have internet access!

P.S. My best photos are posted at picasaweb.google.com/nicotedesco. The albums from White Sands and Saguaro are my favorites.

Big Bend National Park

2011-02-23T18:32:00.004-05:00

Big Bend National Park is tucked into the, uh, big bend in the Rio Grande that forms the boundary between western Texas and Mexico. There are three distinct ecosystems here: the river, the desert, and the mountains. The Chisos Basin is in the middle of the park; plants and animals were stranded here in this relatively green, cool, moist pocket at the end of the last Ice Age as cooler temperatures receded north.

Memorable Moments

The highlights of my trip:

~Really tasty camp cooking... except for "cooking" a dehydrated Mountain House meal with solar "heated" water that was barely lukewarm, but hey it was still technically edible!
~The views from Toll Mountain campsite overlook...

~The Camelbak shower, stark naked in the middle of a desert, washing off five days worth of sweat and dust...
~Roadrunners, javelinas (like little wild pigs), miniature deer, coyote noises at night...
~Full moon, amazing night sky, zillions of stars...
~Dave's 27th birthday chocolate bar at the top of Emory Peak...
~Finally learning how to use a Whisperlite stove...
~Views from the South Rim...
~Spending most of an evening pulling those damn tiny, irritating cactus needles out of my arms, legs, and abdomen...

Ok, if you want to know more details about what we hiked and where we camped, read on...

Read more »

Two Great Backpacking Recipes

2011-02-16T18:02:00.009-05:00

Crunchy Tuna Noodles

~2 packages instant noodles with flavor packet
~1-5 oz. can tuna in water
~1 avocado
~2 packets mayo
~2 packets mustard
~Optional: grated parmesan or shredded cheddar cheese

Break up the instant noodles inside the package. Pour into 2 bowls. Add between ¼ and ½ of a single flavor packet to each bowl (save the other to flavor something else). Add half of the tuna, including tuna water, to each bowl. Cut the avocado in half, remove stone, slice each half into small pieces inside the skin, and add to each bowl. Add a packet of mayo and a packet of mustard. Mix very well. Optionally, top with cheese. Serves 2.

Breakfast Couscous

~1 c. whole wheat couscous
~2 c. water
~1/4 c. raisins
~2 small apples or 1 medium apple
~1 tsp. cinnamon
~2 pinches salt

Bring water to a boil. Add to couscous, cover, let stand 5-10 minutes until couscous has more than doubled in size and water is absorbed. While couscous is rehydrating, chop apple into small bits. Mix together couscous, raisins, chopped apple, cinnamon, and salt. Serves 2.

Life Update!

2011-02-15T17:43:00.006-05:00

That "big announcement" that I alluded to in the last post?

The Western Road Trip is happening. Right now, actually.

Dave and I left Raleigh on a Tuesday and drove up to the Blue Mountains, spending the night in Asheville. From Asheville out of the mountains and across the plains to Little Rock, Arkansas... then out of the plains and through the forest, across the Mississippi and south into the hot Tejano emptiness to Austin, Texas... from Austin to the empty, searing, parched, wild country of western Texas.

Along the way, we couchsurfed with some excellent people who have given me plenty of encouragement that I'm headed in the right direction, which always seems to be West.

So we ended up in Big Bend National Park. That deserves its own post. In fact, west Texas deserves its own post, too.

What's the plan? Right now, I'm taking it one day at a time. We talk to people and that's how we decide where to go. Seems like we keep running into the right people! Most likely, we'll stay in the Southwest (Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, southern California, and southern Utah), unless it warms up enough to head north of the 35th latitude.

What is life like these days? All of our stuff fits precisely into the back of Dave's Toyota Matrix. I've got the necessities; much of my wardrobe is exactly the same duds I've been wearing for the past year. Just keep sewing up the holes. We can sleep in the back by piling our bags and crates onto the driver's and passenger's seats, which is very convenient. Most of the time, though, we sleep in a tent. We've been doing "primitive" camping: bringing in our own water, digging our own latrine holes, and using headlamps for light. We've made all our food with one pot over a single campstove flame. Chow has been pretty good thus far; recipes forthcoming as well. In my opinion, hardly "primitive." Exactly what I need; nothing more, nothing less.

What do we do? During the day, we're either hiking or driving. Dave does most of the driving, because I get too sleepy and distracted. In the passenger's seat, I prep snacks, change the music, try not to sleep all the time, and beg Dave to stop at everything I find interesting (which is too much).

How am I affording all this travel? I get asked that frequently, and I don't think most folks understand exactly how short our shoestring budget is. The other day we spent a little under $40 for groceries, buying 34 items, and that will feed us for days. Twenty bucks total for the both of us for camping the entire time we were in Big Bend (one $10 night outside the park, one $10 backcountry permit). Gas is expensive, of course. At some point, I'll do a few budgeting posts about how I saved for this trip and what my principle expenses have been (I'm a former analyst—you betcha I kept track).

By picking up odd jobs and seasonal jobs, I could probably live like this forever... or until I wanted to have a community or to buy land or to go back to school or to have a kid. I do find something approaching profound in being forced to live in the moment, to be present to enjoy today, to leave tomorrow to take care of itself. Still, eventually I'm going to want to do one or more of the above things.

So what's next? Due to a combination of family and personal factors, we'll be back on the east coast sometime this spring. Dave and I are looking at jobs back in the Finger Lakes and northwards. I might want to go back to school (though I'm not ready to say what I'll be studying). If it looks like we'll stay put, it might be time to put our names on a piece of land. I like the idea of buying a yurt: one, it's sturdier than a nylon tent; two, I dislike debt and a mortgage is just that; three, we can always pick it up and move again.

There's my update. What's new with you?

Here, There, Everywhere

2011-02-12T17:41:00.000-05:00

So what's new since I've been back? The past six weeks have been a weird combination of being homeless yet staying in family homes, of staying put and moving around, and of thinking of the future without making any solid plans.

Started off in New York State with Dave's mother (and sister, sister's boyfriend, brother, brother's fiancee, brother's child-to-be, grammy, pitbull/ mushy spaghetti mix, and other assorted characters).

Took a side trip to Ithaca. Went climbing. It was exactly as painful as I thought it would be. Awesome.

On the way back to downstate, we detoured through the Catskills and hiked Hunter Mountain. Second time in my life that I've felt exposed skin start to freeze. BRRR!!

Next up: a week in Florida for Dave's father's wedding. The primary reason I'm back in the U.S.A. Somehow I didn't take any pictures all week, but I did read four books.

Back to New York.

Side trip to New Jersey to visit my family. My cousins are far cooler than I will ever be.

Go south.

On the way, stop in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to see a few of my high school buddies, in Baltimore, Maryland to see one of Dave's friends, and in Williamsburg, Virginia to see J-T-W (who had joined us in Nepal for trekking).

Temporary final destination: North Carolina. My parents moved here while I was abroad. This was the first time I'd visited their new home.

angie invades my snow cave

summit of hunter mountain

my family & cool cat cousins

davo and jtw, sittin' in a tree...

playing with fire in north carolina

So, what's next???

Well, I can say that there's some big stuff about to go down in the next few days. At this point, not going to get more specific than that, because (1) my plans have been changing by the day, and (2)...

...I'm trying to decide whether I want to (a) continue writing for the public, or (b) drop off the radar (again) for a little bit.

If anyone is reading this, (I) do you keep a public journal/ blog (and why/why not), and (II) what have been your favorite posts on One Great Dewdrop?

Pale Blue Dot

2011-01-25T15:56:00.028-05:00

While Americans fight over the State of the Union and Tea Parties and the "Jersey Shore" cast heads to Italy, please remember this:

earth from 3.7 billion miles away (pale blue dot halfway down the brown band)

"Look again at that dot [the small speck halfway down the brown band]. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

"The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

"Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

"The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

"It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."

Sagan, Carl (1994). Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space (1st edition ed.). New York: Random House.
Copyright © The Estate of Carl Sagan

Revenio Melancholy

2011-01-21T15:07:00.000-05:00

There's post-partum depression (baby blues), there's seasonal affective disorder (winter blues). There's even endogenous depression (the no-good-reason blues).

I'd like to coin my own term. Revenio Melancholy: homecomer's blues. Revenio means "return" in Latin, and melancholy... well, you get it.

Today marks the end of the third week I've been back in the United States. Unsurprisingly, I've had a rough adjustment to over-sized cars, well-maintained roads, and no health insurance. But it's more than the superficial differences that have been driving me crazy.

First: I am totally overwhelmed by STUFF. I've always been a little squeamish about clutter; I probably had the neatest, most organized room of any kid in Eisenhower Middle School. (An aside: I just looked up the name of my middle school, because I did not remember it. Yikes.) I picked up my clothing and outdoor equipment from storage in Ithaca and brought it to Dave's mother's house. Six milk-crates, three boxes, one suitcase. The pile of milk-crates and boxes that fit so neatly into the back of a Toyota Matrix was overwhelming; my little backpack, my turtle shell, held everything I needed for 10.5 months.

Have I mentioned that a Toyota Matrix, a "small car" in the U.S, is actually HUGE? How can everyone agree that the Matrix is a small car? Is this what insanity feels like, knowing that you see the truth while others conspire against your viewpoint?

And it's not just my stuff. This country is just so full of STUFF that it blows my mind. When I visited Ithaca, I made a pilgrimage to Wegman's, the best grocery store in the Northeast, and I felt my eyes turn into wobbly hypnotized spirals as I stared at rows upon aisles of cans, jars, and boxes. I can't look at sales circulars without feeling lightheaded. The only place I've ever gotten the feeling that "shopping" counts as a recreational activity--nay, a national pasttime--is here.

Second: I miss movement. Going places. Or going nowhere, but having the freedom to go wherever I want. I miss being able to say, "Nope, this place doesn't work for me, I'm moving on." Or, conversely, "I love this place! Let's stay here, until we leave!" Or simply: "This place was fine, but now I will explore a place I've never seen before, just for the sake of going somewhere new."

I love the feeling of walking in a strange place. That's my favorite pasttime, whether I'm wandering through a city or a forest or a village. Just walking. In my mind's eye, I am looking down at my worn boots, swishing under a long gray skirt. Over a curb, into a dirt road, crossing a snowy puddle, climbing a dusty hill, tiptoeing through an alley, stomping down a trail, carrying their owner: and thus go my boots. Moving. Sigh.

So. I'm in one place, surrounded by stuff. How does it feel?

I'm depressed. Definitely depressed. As depression goes, though, it's not too bad. I feel like I have all of the physical and mental symptoms of depression, without any of the emotional symptoms. Like I said, not too bad! This afternoon, I took the Mayo Clinic's depression self-assessment.

The Mayo Clinic asks:
Over the last two weeks, how often have you been bothered by the following problems:

Little interest or pleasure in doing things: nearly every day
Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless: nearly every day [well, the first two; the second, not at all]
Trouble falling or staying asleep, or sleeping too much: nearly every day
Feeling tired or having little energy: nearly every day
Poor appetite or overeating: nearly every day
Feeling bad about yourself, or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down: not at all
Trouble concentrating on things, such as reading the newspaper or watching television: nearly every day
Moving or speaking so slowly that other people could have noticed. Or the opposite--being so fidgety or restless that you have been moving around a lot more than usual: not at all
Thoughts that you would be better off dead, or of hurting yourself in some way: not at all

To sum it up, I'm: enjoying nothing, feeling down, want to sleep all the time, always tired, eating not enough or too much, and having trouble concentrating. But at least I don't feel hopeless, or feel badly about myself, or want to kill myself, or imitate a sloth!

Revenio Melancholy. Homecomer's blues. Alternate definition: the gradual fading of uncomfortable, painful, boring, disturbing travel memories as the homecomer savors memories of the stunning, hilarious, ecstatic, and inspiring... and longs for her boots to pound pavement once more.

The Nomad's Resume

2011-01-14T12:45:00.003-05:00

Realization: I'm fully unemployed--completely without action-oriented verbs to go on a resume--for the first time since I was 14. At that age, I worked at Alstede Farms in Morris County, New Jersey. Now they're organic and run a CSA. Funny how things come full circle, eh?

At some point, I heard that "breaks" in the resume are viewed unfavorably by employers. But! I would argue that travel, especially extended, non-vacation travel, is a better preparation for life and work than university. Personally, I gained perspective and context from my travels that I could not have, indeed, did not gain at a university. Plus, 10.5 months abroad was far less than 10% of the price of my Ivy League degree. Which I don't plan to use any longer. But that's another story.

To demonstrate that travelers can learn very real, very useful skills and abilities, I've prepared...

The Nomad's Resume

Passport Number: memorized

Permanent Address: unavailable

Employment History

Barber: Styled men's and women's haircuts with only a Swiss Army knife, hot water, and bravado.
Language tutor: Practiced English conversational skills with beginner through intermediate learners via impromptu interactions. Focused on phoneme pronunciation via a self-developed lesson plan in a monastic setting.
Driver: Drove on both the left and right sides of the road (not under the influence of anything).
Ambassador: Represented the culture of New York and the United States to individuals who were unfamiliar with Americans who are not in movies or on television.
Cook: Prepared snacks and meals with minimal supplies (a carrot, a package of instant noodles, a Swiss Army knife, and 1/2 teaspoon of imagination).
Accountant: Managed trip finances and delivered an exceptional experience under budget.
Nurse: Treated blisters, toenail afflictions, profuse vomiting, violent diarrhea, and so much more. Attended Himalayan Rescue Association's altitude sickness seminars; correctly diagnosed AMS in idiot trekkers ascending too fast.
Guide: Knows hiking trails from New Zealand to Malaysia to Nepal, proper method adjust a backpack, and correct trek pole technique.

Technical Skills

Diplomacy: Can tactfully listen to the entire world complain about Dubya and praise Obama without becoming involved in political discussions.
Foreign languages: Familiar with Indonesian, Malaysian, Thai, Cambodian, Nepali, Turkish, and Hebrew. Speaks Spanish well enough and English fluently. Proficient in Globeish (simplified international English) and, when all else fails, pantomime.
Negotiation and bargaining: Adept at getting as close to the "locals' price" as humanly possible without facial plastic surgery, CIA-operative training, or conversion to Islam. Remember, if you don't want to kill each other by the end, you left money on the table.
Mental currency exchange: Able to convert between multiple currencies on-the-fly while bargaining hard (see above).
Kung fu trip planning: Expedia is for amateurs. Who else would travel on Azerbaijan Airlines?
Metric system: the only non-European, non-scientist, non-graduate student person in the U.S.A. to understand that salt should be purchased in grams, while salty snacks should be purchased in kilos.
Can sleep anywhere: I'm sure this is relevant somehow.

Character Skills

Active listener: believes that everyone has a story; even if you don't understand their language, you can still drink tea together.
Immune to culture shock: traditional squat toilets, water buffalo milk, riding on the roof of a bus? Ok!
Master of open-mindedness: knows the difference between hijab, chador, and burqa, and no longer notices when a woman is wearing one.
Practices self-restraint: spent 313 days within 10 meters (see "Metric system" above) of one person and did not murder him in his sleep.
From planner to do-er: how many people talk about wanting to "travel more" and to "see the world," and how many actually do it?

References:

Rheden in South Jakarta, Indonesia
Ng at Five Brothers Restaurant, Siem Reap, Cambodia

Uğur in Diyarbakir, Turkey

So, uh, anyone wanna give me a job? (Just kidding!)

2010 in Music

2011-01-13T06:57:00.000-05:00

Per tradition, I've put together my 2010 playlist.

It was harder than I expected, because I listened to less music than usual this year. No cooking in a kitchen, no hanging out with friends, none of the typical activities that call for music. On long bus rides, I listened to podcasted radio shows from NPR. It made me feel like I was connected to the United States somehow.

I'm not thrilled with the result, but overall, this is what 2010 sounded like.

January: Bad Romance - Lady Gaga*
February: Home - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
March: Windy City Nights - The Winter Sounds
April: Blessed - Brett Dennen
May: Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes
June: Say Hey (I Love You) - Michael Franti and Spearhead
July: Go Do - Jónsi
August: To the Ghosts Who Write History Books - The Low Anthem
September: Present/Infant - Ani DiFranco
October: Waiting - The Cat Empire
November: Rengarenk - Sertab Erener
December: The Sea Is a Good Place To Think of the Future - Los Campesinos!
*Oh yes I did, and oh no I'm not ashamed!

Ithaca Has Given Me the Beautiful Voyage

2011-01-06T07:13:00.001-05:00

I met a Columbian in Cambodia.

A jovial man, the type of man who ends up in the middle of everything, he was convincing people on the street to eat at the restaurant where he sat. Why? Why not. There was free popcorn, and this was amusing.

He found out that I was from Ithaca, not the Greek Ithaca. He asked if I knew the famous poem about the place--the Greek Ithaca, that is. I did not.

He sent it to me later that week. Now I carry a copy with me always, in my mind.

I'm going back to Ithaca, my adopted hometown, though just for a visit. I loved Ithaca--still do--but this isn't the time to drop my anchor in her port for very long. I wonder what has changed since I left. I know I have. I'll go back someday, but that's not the point: by the time I finally settle down, I don't think where I settle down will matter much.

Read this poem. Read it slowly. Enjoy it. Remember it. May your journey, not your destination, provide your riches.

Ithaca

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not already carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise, mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds, as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithaca means.

2010 By the Numbers

2011-01-04T08:28:00.000-05:00

Once a geek, always a geek. I might be smooth with my public words, but not in matters of the heart.

The year 2010 was all about heart, and I'm having a hard time answering the question, "Sooo, how was your trip." I don't know. Extraordinary? What the hell does that mean?

No, it's better to take the objective approach. I'll communicate in numbers, paint the picture with data. This was the monumental 'round the world trip of 2010... in numbers.

Basics

Days outside the USA: 313
Countries and territories: 13 (USA, New Zealand, Australia, Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Nepal, Turkey, Israel, West Bank, Ukraine) on 3 continents (Australia, Asia, Europe)

where i've been in 2010

Places

UNESCO World Heritage Sites: 13 (Tongariro National Park, Sydney Opera House, Borobudur, Angkor, Kathmandu Valley, Lumbini, Chitwan National Park, Sagarmatha National Park, Historic Areas of Istanbul, Göreme National Park, Baha'i Gardens, Masada, White City of Tel Aviv)
Highest elevation: 5,550 m (18,500 ft), Kala Pattar, Nepal
Lowest elevation: -411 m (-1,350 ft), Dead Sea, Israel
Favorite country: First place: Turkey, because of its culture, food, natural beauty, diversity, friendliness of the people, and ease of getting off the beaten path. Runners-up: New Zealand, because of its natural beauty, and Thailand, because I want to explore the north of the country.

in the back of the ute

Catching ZZZ's

Hostels and guesthouses: somewhere around 22, plus 28 teahouses while trekking in Nepal
Couchsurf hosts: 9 (every country except Singapore, Cambodia, Nepal, and Israel (see below))
Family and friends: 3 (all in Israel)
Airports: 4 (Auckland, Singapore, Istanbul, Tel Aviv)
Oddball places I've spent the night: in a tent in New Zealand for several months, in a van in New Zealand for one month, under a mosquito net in the back of a Ute in Australia, on a yacht in Australia, at a monestary in Nepal, in a concrete cell in Thailand

shoot me now

Transport

Flights taken: 17 (many flights from one city to another had multiple segments)
Miles flown: 28,695 (damn)
Long-distance bus rides: 17 (Yogya to Bromo, Bromo to Denpasar, KL to Cameron Highlands, Cameron Highlands to Taman Negara, Taman Negara to KL, Butterworth to Hat Yai, Siem Reap to Bangkok, KTM to Jiri, KTM to Besisahar, Pokhara to KTM, KTM to Chitwan, Chitwan to Lumbini, Lumbini to Pokhara, Pokhara to KTM, Diyarbakir to Urfa, Urfa to Goreme, Goreme to Istanbul)
Long-distance train rides: 4 (Jakarta to Yogya, KL to Butterworth, Surat Thani to Bangkok, Bangkok to Aranyaprathet)
Ferry rides: 2 (Java to Bali, Istanbul)
Motor vehicle rentals: 3 (Bali, Australia, Israel)
Which country has the worst buses? Nepal

itty bitty writing muse kitty

Languages

Languages spoken: 11 (English, Indonesian, Malaysian, Thai, Cambodian, Nepali, Turkish, Kurdish, Hebrew, Arabic, Ukrainian)
Alphabets seen: 7 (Latin, Thai, Cambodian, Devanagari/Nepali, Hebrew, Arabic, Cyrillic)
Alphabets read: 3 (Latin, Devanagari/Nepali, Cyrillic)
Easiest language to learn: Indonesian
Hardest language to learn: Nepali

Remembering

Photos on the hard drive: 10,885 (mine), 6,117 (Davo)
Blog posts: 126 (though some were written before departure)
Personal journal entries: 313 (one for every day of the trip), plus 9 special entries, in 3 volumes (2 digital, 1 hand-written)
Favorite memory: too many to list!!!

sunset at angelus hut, nelson lakes, new zealand

The Great Outdoors

Total trail (hiking) days: 83 (New Zealand 30, Indonesia 1, Malaysia 4, Nepal 46, Turkey 2)
Rock climbing: twice (Wharepapa, New Zealand and Koh Tao, Thailand)
National Parks: 18 (Tongariro, Taranaki, Nelson Lakes, Westland, Aoraki, Mt. Aspiring, Fiordland, Litchfield, Bromo Tengger Semeru, Taman Negara, Chitwan, Langtang, Sagarmatha, Annapurna, Göreme National Park, Caesarea, Ein Gedi, Masada)
Most magnificent natural place: Kala Pattar, Nepal and Nelson Lakes, New Zealand

the view from kala pattar, nepal

Go West, and Grow Up With the Country

2011-01-02T07:04:00.004-05:00

At 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, January 1, 2011, Aerosvit Airlines Flight 131 touched down on the JFK tarmac. After 313 days for me, 365 days for Davo, we were back in the U.S.A.

I've been back for 36 hours. I'm adjusting ok. I washed my clothing in a washing machine and dried it in a dryer. For the first time in months, my clothes felt clean, like really clean, and the colors are brighter. If you wear the same clothes for a year, you'll know what I mean. I've enjoyed drinking water from the tap. I could do that in Israel, and even in Turkey, but the water tastes better here. In fact, I'm going to get a glass of water right now. The first time I plugged in my computer, I wondered which plug adapter I should use and decided on my universal adapter, but then I realized that I don't need a plug adapter anymore. That was silly.

It's no secret that I didn't want to come back. The world is big and beautiful, and I want to be a part of it, everywhere, all the time. I've learned what types of experiences are fulfilling to me, which types of places I love, and I know how to spot the open, warm, wise faces of people who are my future friends. If I could take off again, oh! the adventures I would have...

But here I am. And I'm ok with that. I've been singing a little song in my head, quietly reminding myself
"Don't give the sellers of stuff
power enough
to rob you of your grace--
Love is all over the place."

So what's next? Where will I go, what will I do?

Well, it's become abundantly clear that Davo and I are not "desk job" people. In retrospect, I'm surprised I survived at a desk for as long as I did, though in retrospect, I was awfully depressed at times. Dave? At a desk? Wearing a collared shirt? I'd eat a maggot before I'd believe it (apologies to people who eat maggots).

I don't remember which of us said it first, nor when it was said, but at some point our gentle jokes about "Well, we can always be farmers, har har har" stopped being facetious and started being real. All we need, all we want, is a small piece of land where we could grow our own food, generate our own energy, find our creativity, and generally live our lives away from televisions screaming buybuybuy. Is a homestead the idyllic dream of naive kids from the 'burbs? Well, was an open-ended wander around the world an idyllic dream of cubical rats? Who's afraid to live their dreams?

Changing subjects. I met an Iranian in Nepal. After making me eat almonds and raisins out of small burlap drawstring bags with red Arabic letters (yes, Iranians will carry almonds and raisins to 16,000 feet), after taking photographs together with his friends on multiple cameras (man, Iranians are friendly), he proceeded to give me advice on which canyons I should visit in the western United States. Despite our governments' mutual loathing of each other, the Iranian had obtained multiple visas to my country and had seen three, four, ten times as much of it as had I. I was slightly embarrassed.

I would have talked more with the Iranian, but Dave started vomiting blood, so we needed to excuse ourselves. But it got me thinking--I've seen a little bit of the world, but I haven't seen much of my own country, the place that everyone and their brother loves and loves to hate. Through and through, I'm American, a Yankee girl. What if I explored the U.S.A? What would I find?

And so the idea was born. An epic road trip across North America, combining apprentice work on organic farms with hikes through the monumental National Parks system.

Davo and I have talked in circles about 2011. Would he thru-hike the AT while I went to Argentina? Would we both go to Mexico? Would he stay in New York to play Ultimate while I went to British Columbia to plant trees? Would we head west, together, again, this time on the Epic North American Road Trip of 2011?

Ok, ok, I'll get to the point. As of 6:46 a.m. on Sunday, January 2, 2011, the probabilities of the known possibilities are as follows:
--Epic North American Road Trip of 2011: 95% and trending upward
--We both go to Latin America: 2%
--I go to Latin America, Dave thru-hikes and plays frisbee: 2%
--We "grow up" and get jobs: 0% and trending downward
*Probabilities do not sum to 100% due to rounding. Haha.

So there it is, Mummers. You've been asking what the hell I'm doing in 2011, and now you know. We're packing the car with our work gloves and our hiking boots and we're heading west.

If you're reading this, and you know farmers who use organic/ permaculture/ biodynamic methods, especially in the northern States, drop me a line.
If you're reading this, and you live somewhere in North America, and you would enjoy a visit from two vagabonds, drop me a line.
If you're reading this, and you've got suggestions on which National Parks we should visit (all of them?), drop me a line.

Onward and upward! :-)

Ukraine, Insane!

2010-12-30T18:26:00.001-05:00

Flying between Tel Aviv and New York, Davo and I found a flight with a 25-hour, New Year's Eve layover in Kiev, Ukraine.

Oh hell yeah.

Here's what I saw in my 25 hours in the Ukraine:

Some really cool, beautiful architecture... the buildings were lit up beautifully at night... which is pleasant, because it gets dark at, like, 4:00 p.m. there.

OMG alcohol is SO cheap!!! We splurged and went for the 750 mL bottle of vodka that cost a full 46 hryvnias ($5.75). The guy in the store said it was good. He was right.

Lots of furry hats. And drinking.

I started figuring out the Cyrillic alphabet really quickly. Guess all the practice learning different languages in the past year actually made a difference! This is the first sign I figured out. It says, "De Niro."

Independence Square was a great place to ring in the New Year. Lights, music, snow, booze! The Ukrainians weren't particularly animated, though--Davo and I were the only two dancing fools in the crowd.

The perfect random, adventurous, fun, extraordinary end to a random, adventurous, fun, extraordinary year. :-)

The More I Learn, The More I Don't Know

2010-12-29T11:18:00.008-05:00

In Israel, we stayed with two of Dave's father's cousins, Adela and Yoram (and his wife Yordana), as well as his friend from university, Steph. All of them took amazing care of us.

sweet adela

After fending for ourselves for a year, it was so awesome to be totally spoiled. They patiently listened to our travel stories, fed us delicious Israeli and Jewish foods, arranged our transportation, let us into their beautiful homes, and gave us a little glimpse into life in Israel.

caeseria with yoram

It was more than just a visit--they treated me like a friend and a family member. If Adela, Yoram, Yordana, or Steph ever see this...
!תודה, תודה, תודה

dinner with steph (not pictured: enzo)

Other thoughts on Israel...

To be brutally honest, at first I didn't have much interest in visiting Israel. Maybe because I didn't have many expectations, a crazy thing happened--I found a lot of meaning in my trip there. It's a place I had to see for myself to begin to understand.

israeli flag at masada

Yeah, the traveling Israelis I saw everywhere in South Asia are generally rude, loud, and willing to argue over the equivalent of five cents. But then I met two sweet, dedicated, 17-year old young women who are about to begin their military service. I thought about what it would be like to dedicate my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of university to the defense of my country, how that would change me, and it became difficult to judge those young Israelis getting drunk in Pokhara.

Yeah, Israel is doing some nasty stuff to Arabs living in occupied territories. But then I talked to multiple Israelis who believes that the two-state solution is the only solution (about 70% do)--anything else, everything else, would be perpetual war. I thought about how the outlandish opinions of extremists and fundamentalists can alter the world's opinion of a nation. Hell, I'm American, I know this too well.

praying at the western wall

On a personal level... my dude pal, Davo, is Jewish. We agreed early that, should we procreate someday, he would raise them with Jewish traditions. (For the record, I would and should teach them about my family's Christian and Catholic religious heritage.) Since Dave is not particularly observant, and I've had the most contact with Judiasm through him, I thought that raising Jewish kids would be as simple as lighting a few candles on special days. I'm vegetarian--our kitchen would already be kosher!

After spending a few weeks in a Jewish State, where the buses don't run on the Sabbath, I see it's not that simple. One of my former colleagues who now resides in Jerusalem, Oren, invited us to a Shabbat dinner on Christmas Eve. When Dave celebrates Shabbat, he recites a few prayers before the meal, we eat bread and drink wine, and that's about it. Oren is more observant, and so we went through everything: the prayers before, the bread and wine, the ritual washing of hands, and many beautiful prayers sung in Hebrew after the meal. An entire Shabbat world existed, and I didn't know about it!

The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. This is true of everything! Languages, environmental issues, the economy, and yes, religion. Dave goes through the routine of being Jewish in America, but when I ask why he does certain rituals, rarely does he know. In 2011, we've decided to read the Bible (Old Testament) together. And I'd like to attend adult education classes at a synagogue. Even though I'll never convert, I've realized that there's more to being Jewish than matzo ball soup and bagels, and I want to know more.

Thanks, Israel, for inspiring more curiosity in my life!

Merry Christmas, from Bethlehem

2010-12-24T23:30:00.001-05:00

I was talking to my Mummers on Skype a few weeks ago, just chatting about holiday plans and the usual. In her usual motherly brilliance, she suddenly suggested that I visit Bethlehem for Christmas.

Nice idea, Mummers!

Since Christmas fell on a Saturday, and Saturday is the Jewish Sabbath, and Israel is a Jewish State, and therefore buses wouldn't run on Saturday, we took an Arab bus most of the way to Bethlehem (see below for details).

In a strange way, it felt great to be in Bethlehem. It's an Arab village now, and it feels that way. Thing is, I've gotten used to feeling like the "different" one wherever I go. In Israel, I'm constantly mistaken for Israeli. And I haven't been in a place so similar to the United States since leaving Australia. Going to Bethlehem was like leaving "civilization" again, going back to a place where I'm the oddball. This is normal to me now.

the mosque opposite Manger Square

When we got to Manger Square, there was a group of Latin American pilgrims playing "Hallelujah, Alegría," absolutely rocking out on guitars, drums, trumpets, whatever. People were dancing in a circle, waving their arms in the air, and generally having a grand time. It was a lot of fun!

The Church of the Nativity is nice. Not the largest or grandest church I've visited, but probably the most crowded--it was PACKED with pilgrims. A long line stretched from the back of the church all the way to the Grotto of the Nativity at the front of the church. Somehow, Davo and I managed to get to the front of the line by going to the opposite side of the church, then getting waved through to cross the apse. The actual spot where Baby Jesus was supposedly born is just a silver star on the ground. You can see it on Wikipedia, if you're interested.

sooo crowded!

I've had a few people say to me, "Wow, to be in Bethlehem on Christmas... I'm sure that must have been very moving, very spiritual." Well, it felt like a big festival. Everyone around me seemed quite happy. But the atmosphere wasn't particularly spiritual.

christmas tree at manger square

The most touching moment of the trip was in the actual Grotto of the Nativity. There were three or four monks down there. One said, "Merry Christmas" to each and every person entering the grotto. The others gently took each person's shoulders and moved them along, single-file. One smiled and said quietly to me, "I'm sorry, the line is very long," as he moved me along. I thought it was very touching that these monks were trying their best to make the experience special for each individual visitor, all 90,000 of us. I guess I'm more interested in these simple, kind human touches in the present moment, rather than obsessing over legends from 2,000 years ago.

Merry Christmas!

For future reference, here's how to get from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. You'll need 13 schekels for the round-trip fare. Don't forget your passport.

Read more »

Breaking the Silence in the South Hebron Hills (Part 3 of 3)

2010-12-23T04:20:00.038-05:00

"To Control Them, They Must Fear Us"

Life in the South Hebron Hills

On a bright Thursday morning, Davo and I met a large group of internationals on a central street in Jerusalem. We piled into a charter bus, and off we went. After only a few minutes on Highway 60, we had passed the green line from Israel into the West Bank. The only change I noticed was a tall, concrete barrier on the side of the highway: the separation barrier (yes, there is even controversy regarding its name).

the separation barrier

We drove to several viewpoints around the settlements at Susiya, Metzadol Yehuda, and Ma'on. The landscape there was three colors only: beige rocks and dusty dirt, dark green scrub and trees, and a big, blue sky. The sun felt hot and strong, even though the air was cool. Silence, except for the voice of the BTS guide. It felt like there wasn't much around me, just emptiness and tension. "Is this what people are fighting over?" I wondered again and again.

the land of the west bank

I had a hard time writing about the stories our guide told us. He didn't talk about flagrant human rights abuses--it's easy to get worked up over rape, murder, torture. Instead, he told us numbing, maddening, frightening little anecdotes. He told us about Arabs chafing under the infuriating hassles of Hebron life, about "mapping" houses, checkpoints, curfews. He told us about rock-throwing "pay the price" radical settlers who have declared that they will punish their Palestinian neighbors if the Israeli government enacts a settlement freeze. He told us about 18-year old Israeli soldiers with automatic rifles, too much time on their hands, fear in their minds, numbness in their hearts.

In short, the situation just sucks. For everyone. Suffering exists, and it exists here.

the group at a viewpoint

Our guide explained the process of "mapping" an Arab home. A soldier checks to make sure that the place is considered "innocent"--one doesn't want to wander into a den of terrorists. Once an "innocent" house has been identified, the soldiers enter the home, segregate the male and female residents, question them about anything they want, go through their home, poke into closets, make a literal map of the layout of the rooms. The point is to destroy any sense of privacy, of "this home is my castle," to ensure that the occupants know that the military is always present and has absolute power.

Concerning the IDF, the ease in which you actually do whatever you want to do unsupervised, that is, enter people's homes, conduct random searches. Every officer, every commander can decide now I'm entering a home, ordering the family out, ransacking the house... [...] There are things, I believe, that an army should't do, like close schools; simply enter a school and: no school today. Without asking too many questions. That's it, in a nutshell.

Soldier testimony, Breaking the Silence: Soldiers Speak Out About Their Service in Hebron, page 8, Published by Breaking the Silence

Our guide explained that checkpoints are seemingly placed arbitrarily and enforced arbitrarily. This person gets through, this person does not. Open today, closed tomorrow. Closed today, open tomorrow. It becomes impossible to run a business, to hold a job, to make a doctor's appointment, to maintain family ties... never mind trying to work your land.

Same deal with curfews. Now it's possible to go outside. Now it's not. The orders come from above. The soldiers can't explain why--they don't know. "You just can't. No."

There’s a city, and a road that runs through it, and then one day someone decides “this road is a strategic asset”. In other words, we need it. We, the State of Israel, need it. So Palestinians may no longer use it. So what do they do? Go all the way around it. For a Palestinian to cross a street that is not even a main road, just a mere… street, he has to bypass the whole center of town in order to get to his destination. SO if a guy wants to visit his cousin across the road - and this is a hill-town, mind you – he’ll walk all the way around the city center in order to get there. Of course he’ll be running into countless barriers on the way.

This is not a normal life routine. You can’t live like that. You can’t get through the simplest day.

You can send your kid to school in the morning, but no one can guarantee that 10 minutes later soldiers won’t come along and close the school, or at noon time…

And always the uncertainly, and all within army routine. Everything is decided in seconds. A message comes through, originating somewhere among the top brass, God knows where, and ends up with the simple soldier that has to set this curfew: “Today there’s curfew in H-2” . “Wait, so School X is now under curfew or not?”. “Ask the company commander.” “He’s in a meeting.” Back and forth a few times, and then it’s “Go ahead and close it. No more time.”

Soldier testimony, Breaking the Silence: Soldiers Speak Out About Their Service in Hebron, page 18, Published by Breaking the Silence

This is the reality of life under martial law: no predictability, no protection, no control over anything.

If I go to the sergeant now and tell him: "There's this woman and her child is ill, and she wants to take him to the hospital," and could I let her through, he asks me: "How does she seem?"

I think she's okay, I tell him. Not suspicious.

The company commander and HQ get on the line and tell me: "No way. There's curfew on. She's not going anywhere."

And sure enough, she doesn't.

Soldier testimony, Breaking the Silence: Soldiers Speak Out About Their Service in Hebron, page 34, Published by Breaking the Silence

Our guide did not paint a flattering picture of settlers' actions and attitudes toward their Arab neighbors. Settlers throw rocks at Arabs. Settlers can have guns--in fact, our guide noted that it's easier to get a firearm if your address is in the disputed territories, so some Israelis who live outside the disputed territories will register an address inside. Arabs, unsurprisingly, may not own firearms. Settlers trash stores, occupy dwellings, make threats, act on threats. Arab children are beaten on their way to school. I would like to note that, unsurprisingly, settlers have their own stories of violence at the hands of Arabs, including a quadruple-murder just six months and a stone's throw from where I stood on Thursday.

It was curfew, the streets totally empty of Arabs, and a 12-year old kid with a skullcap and side-curls was walking around, all jolly. He went into a yard, as we walked by, and we saw the Arab family that lives in that house, sitting behind the barred windows on the second floor, peeping out. In the garden of that house grew a pomegranate tree.

The kid picks a pomegranate, and throws it at the window, breaking the glass right where they’re sitting. They yell at him from upstairs, so he picks another pomegranate.

I started stepping in his direction, to stop him. I asked him to move away, perhaps lay a hand on his shoulder to try and stop him.

Two adults walked by just then, so I was glad I could ask them to take the kid away, he was only causing trouble. To make a long story short, they yelled at me for being just another leftie-softie soldier:

“Go handle Arabs and leave us in peace” or something of that nature.

Anyway, another incident where you suddenly realize that the children’s violence is nurtured by their environment.

Soldier testimony, Breaking the Silence: Soldiers Speak Out About Their Service in Hebron, page 9, Published by Breaking the Silence

Soldiers must deal with constant flux between boredom and fear, always on edge. Soldiers have the power to detain, to break, to play. Most of these soldiers are young, 18 to 20 years old. Our BTS guide told us about one soldier who spoke of being in charge of a bulldozer. What happens when you give a bulldozer to a 19-year old? He plays with it, of course. Arab cars picked up and moved here and there. Terraces uprooted. Things of that nature. Because he could, and because Arabs couldn't do anything about it. In order to control a people, they must fear their controllers.

...I remember a very specific situation: I was at a checkpoint, a temporary one, a so-called strangulation checkpoint, it was a very small checkpoint, very intimate, four soldiers, no commanding officer, no protection worthy of the name, a true moonlighting job, blocking the entrance to a village. From one side a line of cars wanting to get out, and from the other side a line of cars wanting to pass, a huge line, and suddenly you have a mighty force at the tip of your fingers, as if playing a computer game.

I stand there like this, pointing at someone, gesturing to you to do this or that, and you do this or that, the car starts, moves toward me, halts beside me. The next car follows, you signal, it stops. You start playing with them, like a computer game. You come here, you go there, like this. You barely move, you make them obey the tip of your finger.

It’s a mighty feeling. It’s something you don’t experience elsewhere. You know it’s because you have a weapon, you know it’s because you are a soldier, you know all this, but its addictive.

When I realized this... I checked in with myself to see what had happened to me. That’s it. And it was a big bubble that burst. I thought I was immune, that is, how can someone like me, a thinking, articulate, ethical, moral man—things I can attest to about myself without needing anyone else to validate for me. I thought of myself as such. Suddenly, I notice that I’m getting addicted to controlling people.

Soldier testimony, Breaking the Silence: Soldiers Speak Out About Their Service in Hebron, page 9, Published by Breaking the Silence

meeting with Arab residents of Susiya

After visiting a few viewpoints to observe Jewish settlements and outposts and Arab villages and camps, we visited the Arab camp at Susiya. The history of this little piece of land is so complex that I can't figure it out from my scribbled notes--suffice to say that the Arabs here have been kicked out, moved, allowed back theoretically, allowed back in reality, kicked out again, and allowed back temporarily and possibly illegally... or something like that.

home

In my opinion, they are living in a makeshift and precarious position. Since their waterhole was destroyed by combined action of the Israeli military and settlers, they must purchase their water in the nearest city. It's extremely expensive. They have wind- and solar-generated electricity, however, provided by various not-for-profit groups. This electricity allows them to have a cell phone to call the police, should they need protection. It also lets them charge a video camera battery to document any interactions they have with settlers. Electricity has provided them more security than the Israeli military could every provide. They're happy to see us--the more international attention is brought to their lives here, the less likely they are to be attacked by settlers or removed from their land, forcibly, legally, illegally, or otherwise.

Susiya

For the record, we did not visit any Jewish settlements or outposts, nor did we speak with any Jewish settlers or active duty Israeli soldiers.

After this visit, we piled back on the bus and head back to Jerusalem. I watched the olive groves and concrete buildings fly by my window. No problems at the checkpoint as we passed to the other side of the Green Line. Dave and I didn't say much on the drive back.

Over the intercom of the bus, our BTS guide made a few closing remarks. He noted that many people say that the anecdotes collected by BTS are the stories of the "bad apples," and that overall Israeli soldiers do not destroy property, humiliate Arabs, or make life unduly difficult for occupants of the disputed territories. He counters that BTS has never found a soldier that contests the reality of daily life the disputed territories, both for residents and soldiers.

He is adamant that we not blame the soldiers. He is a former soldier himself, and it's easy to sympathise with the 18-year old version of him, fresh out of secondary school, given a gun and told to protect his people, given a bulldozer and no supervision. These young men have barely started shaving, yet they are in charge of determining who goes where, when, if at all, for an entire community.

Surprisingly, he is equally adamant that we not blame the settlers. Of all the players in this game--soldiers, Arabs, settlers, Israeli society--they are the only ones who are honest, brutally honest, about their motivations and aims, he says.

If there is blame in this situation, he says, it falls squarely on Israeli society as a whole. He said that this attitude--"this doesn't happen everywhere, all the time," or even "this doesn't happen at all"--is what allows the suffering of this reality to continue. Israeli society as a whole does not know, does not want to know, what is happening in its own backyard, he asserted. Rather than talk about their experiences, most soldiers simply want to bury the memories and to forget. Soldiers' silence allows the rest of Israeli society to live in denial. He tells of meeting with mothers of soldiers, and how one mother indignantly said, "My son would never take part in such activities!"

So what the hell can be done? BTS itself proposes no solution to the conflict in disputed territories. They only want to expose Israeli society to the reality of life for all parties involved in the disputed territories.

I've tried to keep my own opinions out of these posts and tried to report only what I was told. My own opinion on the situation? No group is completely wrong, completely evil. Yet each side vilifies the other. Since I've been in Israel, I've been inwardly shocked at the casual racism I've heard coming from educated Jews directed toward Arabs and Muslims. I can only imagine the rhetoric that extremists on both sides are teaching their children. To me, sometimes it seems like neither side truly wants peace, only to win, whatever that means, at any cost. Like I said... so sad.

To read more first-hand accounts of Israeli soldiers serving in disputed territories, visit Breaking the Silence, or read their PDF booklet here.

Breaking the Silence in the South Hebron Hills (Part 2 of 3)

2010-12-23T04:00:00.004-05:00

Boring But Necessary Political and Legal Background

A little background on the situation in the West Bank... before World War I, the Ottoman Empire administered the area now known as West Bank as part of the province of Syria. After the war, the Brits got the land and allocated it to the British Mandate of Palestine. In 1948, during Israel's War of Independence, the land was taken by Trans-Jordan/ Jordan, though many states (including Arab states) did not see this annexation as legitimate. Israel then took control of the land during the Six-Day War in 1967. The West Bank was never annexed by Israel, though Israel has established martial law there.

Head spinning yet? And remember, this is a gross oversimplification of the history of the land. People write doctoral theses on this topic.

The important thing to remember is that the West Bank is under martial law. This means:

Israeli civil law does not apply there;
Laws in place before martial law cannot be changed;
The military calls the shots, not the police force;
The military is present to protect Israeli citizens.

Enter the settlements.

Some Jews believe that they have a religious claim to the land in the West Bank. Other Israelis see strategic political, economic, and security reasons for Jewish settlements there. Others simply see it as their historical right to the land.

Remember how laws in place before martial law cannot be changed? Under Ottoman law, if a man doesn't work his land for a certain period of time, the land becomes "no man's land" and reverts back to the Sultan. Back in the 1980s, Jews looking to settle in the West Bank (and Gaza, etc.) identified parcels of land that hadn't been worked (often these parcels of land are on the tops of hills, where the soil is poorest; hence many Jewish settlements are on the tops of hills), and claimed that they were "no man's land." Also under Ottoman law, if a man works "no man's land" for 10 years, it becomes his. Basically, the strategy of establishing a settlement is to squat on the land for 10 years, then claim it as your own.

settlement building

The problems arise when the land actually still "belongs" to someone else. I need to put "belongs" in quotation marks, because many poor and/or nomadic people do not hold a paper title to their land, only the claim that they have lived there since their grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's time. Now, the West Bank is criss-crossed with razor wire and Israeli military check posts and is constantly subjected to curfews. Everyday life is constantly disrupted in the West Bank. It may be impossible to work the land, and someone (a settler) may move in before the next opportunity.

Settlements are expanded and legitimized in clever ways. Around each settlement, a "security buffer" is informally established by the Israeli military and a local Arab security contact. Arabs are not allowed into the security buffer--even if it is their land. Settlers plant trees in barrels in the security buffer, then after 10 years, claim that they have been "working" the land and that it's their own.

barrel: eventually this will be a land claim. "working" the land for 10 years..

Settlers may also establish an outpost, maybe just one or two houses. In order to adequately protect Israeli citizens, the military must make patrols. As another few buildings go up, the military must provide constant security. To provide for the soldiers, the military extends water and electric lines to the outpost, and consequently provides services to the settlers. With the new utility services, more settlers move to the outpost, and eventually it becomes a settlement.

outpost

International law (Fourth Geneva Convention) states that an occupying power may not transfer its own population into an occupied territory. Basically, you can't push a people out of their land by moving in your own people. For this reason, most of the international community considers the Jewish settlements in disputed territories flat-out illegal.

Remember how martial law means that Israeli civil law does not apply in disputed territories? There are two sets of laws: one set for Israeli citizens (settlers), one set for Arabs (non-citizens). If a 12-year old settler boy throws a stone at an old Arab man's face, the most the Israeli military can do is to call the police and ask them to talk to the minor's parents. If a 12-year old Arab boy throws a stone at an old Jewish man's face, the military can detain and treat the boy as a terrorist. The Israeli military is unable, or unwilling depending on who you ask, to mediate conflict between settlers and Arabs.

All of this leads to trememdous conflict between Jewish settlers and Arabs.

Whew! I think that's enough political and legal background for now. Most of this information was presented by our BTS guide, and obviously he has an opinion on the situation, but I've done my best to present the facts neutrally. I'm neither historian nor lawyer; yell at me if I've got anything horribly wrong.

Breaking the Silence in the South Hebron Hills (Part 1 of 3)

2010-12-23T03:52:00.004-05:00

There's No Way To Talk About This Without Getting Shot

There is no easy way to write about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Even calling the Arabs who live in disputed territories "Palestinians" invites criticism from supporters of Israel, as there is no currently, universally recognized entity called Palestine (though there is the Palestinian Authority, and there was the British Mandate for Palestine, but I digress), so therefore there can't be Palestinians.

Commence cross-fire from keffiyeh-wearing activists.

If I'm going to write about the disputed territories, to use the most neutral language I can find, I need to state my own biases at the start. So here we go. I support Israel's right to exist. I also support the right of all human beings to exist in dignity. I am not Jewish (or Christian, or Muslim, though I should state in full disclosure that my boyfriend is Jewish and has family living in Israel). I am primarily concerned with the issue of suffering--the suffering of all people who live in fear, of all people who struggle with the oppression of both outside and inside forces, and the suffering of all mothers and sons, regardless of which version of the same God to which they pray.

I wanted to visit the disputed territories to see with my own eyes and feel with my own heart what is happening there.

herding sheep

I heard about the organization "Breaking the Silence" from another traveler who wrote about his experiences in Israel. "Breaking the Silence" (BTS) was founded in 2004 by "veteran combatants who served in the Israeli military since the start of the Second Intifada and have taken it upon themselves to expose the Israeli public to the routine situations of everyday life in the Occupied Territories." Disturbed by events during their military service, they originally targeted their message at the Israeli public, which they assert does not, and does not want to, understand the reality of everyday life for both Israeli soldiers and the people they must control. They collect and publish testimonies from veterans "to make heard the voices of these soldiers, pushing Israeli society to face the reality whose creation it has enabled." BTS also runs organized, educational tours in English for international tourists (and Hebrew for Israelis) to allow an "unmediated encounter with the reality of the military occupation."

Dave and I signed up for the December 23, 2010 educational tour to the South Hebron Hills.

olive trees behind razor wire

In the next two posts, I hope to explain the little political and legal background for anyone who isn't familiar with Hebron or the issue of Jewish settlements in disputed territories. I'd also like to share some of the stories I heard about everyday life in the South Hebron Hills for both Israeli soldiers and the people they must control.

As best I can, I will keep my opinions to myself. Draw your own conclusions. If you can't, visit the West Bank and hear the stories for yourself. You need to know the price that is being paid for security, religion, politics, strategy, history. Is the price worth it?