PoJoGo

Cali

2009-09-28T20:53:17Z

After traveling up the California coast in April and enjoying the lanai and hiking the Na Pali Coast on Kauai, Hawaii, we moved back to Encinitas, California in May. Since then, we've mostly enjoyed some stationary punctuated with hiking, surfing, beach jogs and swims, Vegas weekends and catching up with old friends. Taking it a little slower, you could say.

Tennessee

2009-04-27T18:04:18Z

After pulling into truck stops for the last two nights, I couldn't resist the signs for Cumberland Mountains State Park, near Crossville, Tennessee.

Not that the truck stops weren't thrilling... The low, deep rumble of hundreds of idling big rigs is mesmerizing. Row after row, they're lined up with up just a couple of feet between them. It's like peeking back stage and seeing the guts of the operation to supply America's insatiable thirst. And what a sub-culture long haul drivers have!. You'll have to spend a night among them some day. Very interesting contrasts. Both nights Darby and I tucked away in a quiet corner of the lot and slept soundly till sunrise.

But that was New York and West Virginia. This is Tennessee. The most beautiful state we've yet passed. Big, healthy forests unvisited by big, unhealthy (but very kind) people. Perhaps the active ones spent their Sunday somewhere other than the Interstate. Go figure...

Anyhow - so I see the sign for Cumberland, and decide that Darby and I are due for a hike in the woods together. We explore the trails, slowly at first, side-steppng the poison oak (I'm almost over the last bout I got on my legs in California a month ago) until a stream with good flow beckons for a splash. The water's refreshingly crisp, welcome after a day blasted from above by nearly cloudless sun and below by the heat radiating from the endless freeway. After a thorough spring cleaning, we double back and pick up the pace. Now rapidly to get back to the truck before dark Alas, as I have a tendency to do, we hiked the last bit in the dark. And no, leaving my headlamp in the car wasn't brilliant, and neither was the trail after the sun set. Whatever, we took turns leading and found our way. We both have the nose for this kind of thing.

Exhilerated by nature, we're signing off in the dead quiet of our Tennessee night.

Trailer Hitch

2009-04-25T16:32:27Z

I'm standing in line at a gas station Dunkin' Donuts and a guy points out that the auto transport isn't installed on the truck's hitch ball! It's just sitting on it loosely. I must have a horse shoe up my butt, because I drove for 24 hours like that and it didn't come off... Lesson: don't install a hitch in the dark...

On the road again

2009-04-25T16:06:30Z

Packed up a 17' Uhaul, towing my car behind, I head out from Montreal with Darby on our way back to California. I love long drives, and I have at least 7 days of it ahead of me - the same drive I did 13 years ago...

Back in Encinitas

2009-03-16T22:31:48Z

We’re back in California, looking around to see if we’d like to relocate back here. Good times with old friends – nice to be back.

Arrive. First stop: Moonlight Beach

Hanging with the Holmes

I've always felt that life's served me a lucky platter. Yesterday was one such day. I've never come so close to death, and yet felt so alive.

I sat outside at the Second Cup coffee shop on St-John's in Pointe-Claire under a blasting hot sun. Suddenly a storm presented. Bright light faded to brooding darkness. The air pressure sank and the winds came. I quickly packed up my laptop and headed to the car to avoid the coming rain. A bolt of lightning struck a few hundred meters away near the Fairview Shopping Center, announcing the arrival of the near-instant storm. Happy to have beat the rain, I hopped in our new Mazda 3 Hatchback – which we've had for 6 days – and started the engine. Then, an enormous BANG! Instinctively I ducked. A fraction of a second later, another even louder BANG! as the roof of the car smashed in. I reopened the door and ran – a witness said they'd never seen anyone move so fast – and saw a huge branch more than half a meter in diameter from an old tree laying on the car. I was ok. Some blood dripped from cuts on my arms, I was covered in tiny pieces of glass and had a bloody lip. But I was basically unharmed.

Lightning struck the tree. The first bang was the sonic boom of the thunder a few meters away. The second was the tree destroying the car. Had I parked one foot closer to the curb, had the tree fallen two degrees to the left, had I not bent over… Well – let's just say I wouldn't be here to tell the tale. Every spot in the car except where I was sitting was crushed to mid-torso. My head would have been in my stomach. I am a very, very lucky man.

But wait, there's more.

A half hour earlier and separately, a freakishly large German Shepherd dog ran ferociously towards Joanne as she rollerbladed. Expecting the attack, she slid foot-first, baseball style towards the dog. The oversized dog pounced on her, paws on her torso and lunged for the kill. As the teeth approached, in timing that is just as incredible, its owner threw the dog off her. She picked the grass out of her wheels and went on her way, until, oddly, a bird attacked her head. Twice.

Perhaps best of all, my sister Jessica, who's had a complicated pregnancy that forced her into bed rest for the last 18 weeks – the last 7 or 8 of which were spent in the hospital – gave birth after just 28 of the normally 40 weeks to the newest member of the family: Samantha Hope Plamondon. Samantha's yet undeveloped lungs let out their first cry. Relieved parents did likewise. Doctors say she's a fighter. She came out fists first, above her head. I'd say she's a member of the lucky day club.

As I sat eating dinner peacefully reflecting on how different the day could have gone, I was again reminded of the temporality of our time and that any day could be your last.

Live richly, pursue what feels great and don't let yourself be blown around by the unimportant. And give someone you love a hug for no reason.

Back in Montreal

2008-06-12T14:33:14Z

During the most recent stint of our travels, we've had a tremendous set of experiences throughout the Caribbean, Asia, Australia and the South Pacific. We're back in Montreal for the summer as we think about our next ambitions. The warmth of family surrounds us and we're soaking it in.

Posts to come from our road trip down the east and south coasts of Australia, as well as our incredible experience in Tahiti.

Playing Favorites

2008-03-20T01:22:04Z

My friend Tim Windsor asked about my favorite spots on our journey. I usually answer this question with something like

"It's hard to say, each place we've been has offered something unique. Our favorite places usually end up being places where we were in sync with whatever that thing is."

But something made me start listing off a few places that jumped into mind. Looking at the list, I thought it would be fun to link to blog posts we'd written about each spot. Well, that email ended up turning into this blog post. Here's to a trip down memory lane...

Memorable Experiences

Kiteboarding in Cabarete, Dominican Republic
Rock climbing and deep water soloing in Ton Sai and Railey, Thailand
Getting to know the indigenous peoples of the high Sierra in the north of Ecuador
Scuba diving in Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos
Trekking Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia, Chile
Tango dancing in Buenos Aires, Argentina
Living the untouristed island life in Middle Caicos, Turks and Caicos
Moped up through the Taroko Gorge National Park in Taiwan
Night markets, Taipei, Taiwan
Chatuchak Market, Bangkok, Thailand
Luxury Living, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Swimming and playing with a wild baby sea lion in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador
Swimming with piranhas in an Amazon tributary in the jungle 7 hours east of Coca, Ecuador
Watching the sun rise onto Fitz Roy mountain in Patagonia, Argentina
Hacking away at iTools from a platform overlooking the ocean in Ko Lanta, Thailand
Bathing in the mystical rivers around Villcabamba, Ecuador

Since

The next generation's Internet

2008-03-19T23:07:08Z

I received this photo of my niece computing, and it prompted me to think about how the generation that's growing up now interfaces with the Internet.

Her generation will not have known a world without a global network of computers or pocketable Internet access devices/communicators that can get to anything or anyone, anywhere in an instant. It's quite a different world than we grew up in. It's great to see that she's already engaging in what will be her primary means of contact with her world.

Despite the influence of the previous generations, today's kids aren't growing up watching TV, they're interacting on the Net, in real-time 2-way communication. Participant, not consumer. Get this... Kids today think that email is for old folks! They prefer more interactive means, like synchronous communication (instant messaging), social networks (obtaining information via the influence of friends and their friends and their friends, ...) and real-time multi-party collaboration. It's quite amazing to see them go. Their brains were wired for this kind of thing from the beginning and they are master multi-taskers. They handily carry on three to five conversations simultaneously, while browsing the web in multiple tabs, having many sites open at once, while actively choosing and listening to some music.

They're able to contextualize it all at once and handle multiple information inflows and outflows simultaneously, without stumbling. I can't do that, despite computing since I'm 10. But mine were linear interfaces. Do one thing at a time and wait for it to finish, then move on. For them, the infinity of information is accessible synchronously and they have the tools to access and create them in multiples at a time. And they do.

The pace of change continues to accelerate. It's so great to see that she's starting to wire her brain so she can function in the world that awaits her.

Your package is here!

2008-03-19T21:51:23Z

Michelle, a yogi living next to us in Byron Bay, Australia exclaimed "Your package is here!" and I jumped out of my seat in disbelief. I was sure it was a goner...

The package took the most convoluted path across the earth to arrive with us. We had feared that it was lost or stolen during the last leg - between Brisbane and Byron Bay (a 2 hour drive apart) - when a week passed without a hint of a delivery.

I'm ecstatic to report that the mailman (who we'd been talking to every day this week) hand delivered it to Michelle, who, fully aware of the eagerness with which we awaited the package brought it to us.

You see, my trusty Thinkpad X61 Tablet had run out of disk space back in Thailand so I ordered a Western Digital 320 GB Passport 2.5" USB 2.0 Hard Drive online while we were in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia from somewhere in California. It was shipped to Louise in New Jersey, who repackaged it and sent it (with difficulty because of UPS's idiosyncrasies) to Michael in Montreal, who loaded it up with data I desperately need and mailed it to Travis and Carissa's place in Brisbane - but it arrived the day after we had left for Byron Bay. Finally, they re-mailed it to Byron Bay where it now sits expectantly with a cool blue glow, awaiting its indoctrination.

Thanks to all who were involved in this adventure in world-wide data movement.

Brisbane to the Gold Coast of Australia

2008-02-26T12:05:10Z

After a great week with our friends Travis and Carissa in Brisbane and the weekend canoeing trip near Ipswitch, we rented a nice campervan and drove it down to the Gold Coast, where we now sit parked bu a reservoir after cooking up hamburgers, salad, tofu and kidney beans. Ok, Ok, Joanne did all the cooking, and I did all the eating!

Sorry, we're closed

2008-02-17T02:36:23Z

"Sorry, we're closed", they said as I arrived at the check in counter for our flight from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to the Gold Coast, Australia. Oh no you're not, I thought to myself - not after what we just went through to get here...

Our well planned morning started with a leisurely breakfast, a stroll over to the monorail and its ride offered us our final tour of the Kuala Lumpur from its high perch. From KL Sentral, a nice high speed train whisked us to KLIA airport, 25 mins away.

At KLIA, we admire the architecture and start to look for our check in counter. Except we can't find it anywhere.

We find that the counter lays 25 km away at another airport - KLIA LCC! Who names two airports so similarly? Maybe they enjoy seeing the bulging eyes of the panicked passengers as they realize they are going to miss their flight.

Quickly - an ATM for more cash, a taxi counter, and in a jog, we hop in to a waiting cab, bypassing the taxi driver's offer to put our bags in the trunk - let's go! Our flight leaves in just over an hour!! But we should have realized we were screwed when the dispatcher was signaling to the guy giving him directions. But it should have smacked us in the face when he turned into a dead end street and giggled a nervous giggle, saying "Oooooooh!?". After five minutes more slow and hesitant driving, we ended up back here we started. Oh No!

Heated discussion, frantic GPS look ups on my Blackberry and repeated instance that he call someone who had a clue where this other airport is, and finally, as if something had snapped back into place, he says - "Oh, you want to go to KLIA-LCC!, yes I know" and proceeded to whisk us directly there, far above the speed limit with his new found confidence.

We get to the airport only to hear the fated "Sorry, we're closed" at the check in counter. Thankfully, with no bags to check we could still catch the flight if we hurry. We get assigned the back most two seats on the A330. There's enough of a delay that I was able to write this from seat 47K before....

Lift off!!

Thailand - Cooking 101

2008-01-24T03:26:42Z

The moment my taste buds became intimate with Thai food, I was hooked. My quest to learn to reproduce these culinary delights began so that when the time comes to leave, I may take a part of Thailand with us.

I had always associated Thai food with an unpleasant and undesirable burning sensation that comes with eating spicy foods. Prior to being in Thailand, my tolerance level for spicy would reach it's peak after a few small shakes of a pepper mill. I have since grown quite fond of the green and red 1-2 centimeter long chili's which are used liberally, packing a punch to the dishes and sauces they accompany. Each bite leaving a tingle on your lips that can be felt well after the meal is done. I may go so far as to say that I am addicted to this tingle and mini influx of endorphins that are released in response to the bodies perception to a painful stimulus- otherwise known as a good spicy dish. It is sought out daily.

Our tolerance for eating fiery dishes has adapted significantly, our digestive tracts no longer fight back with a vengeance the morning after.

Restaurants that cater to farangs (westerners), purposely serve a milder version so as not to scare their clients away from the smoke that would undoubtedly exit all of their facial orifices. These modifications now leave us unsatisfied and yearning for the authentic Thai culinary experience.

While there is truth to my previous association of Thai food being spicy, I have since learned that this generalization is just that. The ideal Thai meal is a harmonious blend of the spicy, subtle, salty, sweet,and sour, while being equally satisfying to the eyes, nose and palate.

So how does one go about learning the secrets of a Thai kitchen? Cooking classes, of course!

Learning to cook in a formal setting offered a good base in which to begin my culinary quest, but was it authentic? How much of the experience was tailored for the farangs ease and enjoyment in the kitchen?

The introduction to so many unknown vegetables, fruits, herbs and spices only opened up the gateway to my curiosity and left me wanting to learn more, to learn the subtleties that make Thai cuisine so gastronomically pleasing.

I soon figured out that this hunger for learning could be satiated through vendors' stalls.

Thai's eat almost every meal outside of the home. The majority of meals come from rot khen - vendor carts. Vendors specialize in a particular dish and can be found clustered together at day markets along the roadside. There are plastic table and chairs set up, but often the dishes are spooned into a take away plastic bag and shuttled off by their customers on mopeds.

Do not let these basic make shift kitchens fool you, these simple food stops are anything but. This is where the true authentic Thai eating experience is to be had and for a fraction of the price of farang restaurants. A satisfying lunch of fish, chicken or vegetable curry, heaping plate of rice and accouterments of fresh veggies that serve to cool the palate from it's spicy counterpart costs all of 30 baht- $1. It is here that I have been feeding not only myself, but with their open air kitchens, my culinary curiosities as well. Few words, if any, are exchanged. Standing along side, accompanied by their warm welcoming smiles, I learn through observation.

I had developed such a nice rapport with one vendor, Oy, that Paul and I had the pleasure of going to her home one night, cooking and sharing a small feast together.

Customarily, eating Thai food is done family style- it's a communal affair involving a group of people sharing common serving platters. The meals are served in whatever order the kitchen can prepare them in, unlike western tradition where all meals are brought in unison and placed in front of their rightful owners. Diners choose whatever they require for one mouthful from the shared dishes and add it to their own plate of rice. Soups are enjoyed concurrently with rice and other dishes, not independently.

Getting the food to your mouth also involves different customs than the west. Locals use a spoon and a fork but not in the way you think. Thais use a fork like we use a knife, to push food onto the spoon which then finds it's way to your mouth, followed by a huge grin. Dig in! Knives are never found on a dining table.

Fresh fruits, vegetables, meat and fish are sold in open air warehouse type markets. These markets vary in size and complexity from a few hanging bananas to an array of goodies that would allow for a feast suited for the King and Queen of Thailand to be conjured up. I ride my bicycle to different markets almost daily finding new things to try or to learn about. With the ever present language barrier, my questions often get put on hold, but eventually someone is placed in my path who can show me the way, or at least tell me the name behind the mystery food, enter Wikipedia.

Yesterday, Ole, the chef of the restaurant that is attached to the bungalows we currently call home, let me tag along to the markets with him as he loaded up on groceries. Upon our return, we unpacked them and then I proceeded to help him with kitchen prep. While my tasks seemed mundane, cleaning and chopping produce, my eyes were constantly darting upwards and in his direction hoping to catch a glimpse of his expertise and learn any new trick that he may impart my way. I smiled as the thought occurred to me, don't all apprentices start in the proverbial mail room? With this in mind, I continued to clean and chop with vigor, all the while enjoying cooking 101 in Thailand, in all the forms it takes.

Thai massage

2008-01-22T04:01:23Z

Ming, a stout Thai mother of three grown kids who came recommended by the yoga guru in Ko Lanta, Thailand introduced me to Thai massage this week. Part stretching manipulations, part acupressure massage on specific pressure points, with a few cracking moves thrown in here and there to mix it up a little, Thai massage is unlike any I’d experienced before. The stretching is like yoga, but where you lie limp as they manipulate you into a variety of sometimes contorted positions. This is often accompanied by their driving a body part like an elbow, foot or knee into one of the outstretched large muscles to loosen it. When I first learned this, I had the same reaction you’re having: this must be painful. But surprisingly, it’s quite complimentary to deep relaxation and release.

It’s just 300 Thai Baht (about $10) per hour to have Ming come to your place and work her magic.

And magic it is! At the start of my last massage, I could hear a symphony of chirping birds from our bed. Very relaxing. At some point during the massage, it began to rain. Hard. But lost as I was in the massage, I didn’t realize it until she did some power move on me, releasing something deep that coincided with thunderous lightning that shook the room. We both gasped. It was a surreal moment.

Speaking about as much English as I speak Thai, communication was primitive. After the massage, the best I could muster was a “Kawp Khun Crap” (Thank you), which was entirely insufficient to express the gratitude I felt for her mastery of release.

Would you be surprised that I’ve already booked the next appointment?

Here are some photos from the massage environment:

Climb on! Ton Sai, Thailand

2008-01-14T01:50:40Z

Every climb begins with the climber and the belayer (the person the climber is attached to via rope and harness) doing a little routine check of each others equipment set up. The climber will then signal his readiness to commence by saying, "climbing" and if the belayer is prepared, will respond with, "climb on".

These 2 little words ensure that the belayer, the climbers lifeline, is ready to take up slack in the rope centimeter by centimeter as the climber reaches new heights over head. When the belayer is doing his job properly, should a fall occur, the distance that the climber free falls off the cliff is minimized so that only 1/4 of his life flashes before his eyes instead of his whole life.

From the moment you hear the words "climb on" and make contact with the rocks, EVERYTHING changes. Suddenly, all you can see is a few feet in front of you, your hands grasp for their next hold, nothing suitable to close a fist on? What about a few fingers or their tips? The same holds true for your footing. All fissures, holes and out jutting rock of any size become fair game for toes, heels, or any part of your body to make contact with, securing yourself just long enough to make your next move.

With heart racing and adrenaline pumping through every cell of your body, you are constantly evaluating if it is best to reach, grasp, shimmy, pull, push, move upwards, sideways, diagonally, or a combination of any one of these maneuvers to advance just one more centimeter.

Mentally, the right and left hemispheres of your brain are having an all out boxing match. One side is telling you to quit while you're ahead, or while you still have a head and get your feet back on solid ground. The other side, the side that is thirsty for a little shot of adrenaline, urges you to continue on your quest to conquer this climb.

The hemisphere that dominates depends on the challenges presented by the rock terrain currently in your path. Are there good hand or foot holds available? Charge on!! But within moments the tables may turn. Suddenly, you find yourself in a precarious contorted position seeking frantically for the next move while fatigue is quickly setting in. Whichever muscle group happens to be working the hardest at this very moment is sending you unmistakably clear signals, it can not sustain this position for much longer. Now you must do the unthinkable and move a hand, foot, elbow or a knee in order to quickly reposition yourself in an attempt to find a way to gain a more secure spot and give your shaky muscles a much needed rest. There is no obvious foot or hand hold, physically you are spent, you are fully aware that there are but a few precious moments left until full exhaustion sets in and you will fall off of Mother Nature's limestone jungle gym.

In this very moment, mentally, it is clear which side of your brain is winning the argument. You have gone as far as you can, this climb has come to an unfortunate early end. But then, you find what you have been looking for, the right combination of push and shimmy or maybe a diagonal maneuver and pull, whatever the magic bullet was, the immediate goal of advancing a centimeter has been achieved and not a second too soon. This is a victorious moment, the climb shall continue.

No matter how challenging mentally or physically a climb was, the moment you reach the top, the obstacles become a distant memory. The reward is an awe inspiring birds eye view of the surrounding majestic karsts, green lush tropical forests and inviting crystal clear waters.

When climbing, the goal is to meld yourself with the rocks so that you may become an extension of them. This intimate union imprints itself on your body as a collection of bruises, cuts and scrapes.

Descending is the opposite. A thumb width rope passes through your harness, an anchor in the rock above and the belayer's harness below. The transition from clinging to the rock for dear life to letting go of it requires overcoming the screaming voice of logic in your head telling you not to. Inevitably, the voice of reason is ignored. The belayer controls the speed of your descent by giving slack in the rope while you are leaning all of your weight back away from the cliff. Suspended by the rope and your harness, your feet making the occasional contact with the wall to push off of it, the descent begins.

Any trepidation that was present just moments before leaning back turns into pleasure. The combination of being lowered while intermittently tapping your feet against the wall is what I might imagine walking in a low gravity environment would be like. Sit back and enjoy the ride.

Watching from down below with both feet planted firmly into the ground, it is without time pressure and great advantage that the observer sees the route in it's entirety. From this perspective it is easy to visualizes what you think the next maneuver should be for a smooth and successful climbing journey.

The challenges that the route entails can not be judged until having experienced them first hand. As the saying goes, until you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes...

Speaking of shoes, climbing shoes are purposely worn 1-2 sizes smaller than your shoe size, giving your painfully curled under and often blistered toes greater melding capabilities with the rock. I assure you, while I would NEVER want to walk even a few blocks let alone a mile in these shoes, after having had these adventures, I definitely want to "climb on".

If the idea of chalk, harnesses and ropes is all to cumbersome for you, then there is always the option of deep sea soloing- kayaking to a cliff and climbing without any equipment as high as is desired, or as you can, then jumping off or falling, whichever comes first, into the deep blue waters down below. Deep sea soloing is not as dangerous nor as scary as conventional rock climbing. The waters underneath offer a much softer and more refreshing landing than land bound cliffs. Well, that's what I kept telling myself when we tried it New Year's eve with some friends. As the song says, what goes up, must come down - sploosh!

Ton Sai Climbing Photos

2007-12-25T15:10:57Z

Rock Climbing in Ton Sai, Thailand

2007-12-22T13:48:44Z

We moved to the Andaman coast of Thailand, by overnight sleeper boat from Ko Tao to Sura-Thani, minibus and bus to Krabi, pickup truck to Ao Nang and finally by longboat to Ton Sai, Railey's little cousin where the living is easy and life revolves around the rock climbing. Bordered by the sea and cliffs, accessible only by boat, and thus "off the grid", this is reputed to be the most beautiful beach in Thailand. We have to agree.

Over 700 routes have been set up the dozens of vertical cliffs (karsts) covered in lush tropical vegetation that seem to pop out of nowhere straight up for a hundred meters. Everywhere you look, people are climbing the rock faces, overhangs and stalagtites of limestone. If you're lucky, you are humbled by a large family of monkeys scaling the rocks as effortlessly as we'd walk on flat ground.

Our friends Mike and Malani "showed us the ropes" today, and we both successfully scaled our first vertical faces dozens of meters up. Exhausted after 5 hours of on and off climbing, the bathwater-hot sea beckoned us for a soak and float, looking up at the cliffs and westward towards the setting sun.

We'll be in the area for Christmas and Joanne's birthday, mixing between rock climbing, exploring the mangrove forests by kayak, and maybe even hiring an elephant for a jungle trek...

Happy Holidays to you all!

Ko Tao Bungalow

2007-12-18T05:49:31Z

The place we're staying in is a dream. We pay 450 Baht per day ($15) for a private beach bungalow right on the beach – as in just 3 or 4 meters from the water at high tide.

An outstanding meal big enough to share of Thai curry with vegetables and tofu and a heap of steamed rice goes for 50 Baht ($1.70). If we're hungry, we add a spicy Thai salad or Tom Kha Gai soup (coconut milk soup with pineapple, chicken, veggies) for another 50 Baht ($1.70). It's easy to spend very little here.

Check out the photo set on flickr, or perhaps more interestingly, see them laid out on a map

Morning Balcony View in Ko Tao, Thailand

2007-12-18T02:15:45Z

Good morning from Ko Tao, a small lush island that is home to 5500 inhabitants, and a part of Samui archipelago in the Gulf of Thailand.

We have just woken to the peaceful sounds of the water gently lapping against the shore, intermingled by cheerful bird songs. We lay in bed for a short while taking it all in as we slowly rouse into our morning. What a stark contrast to the screaming traffic of Thailand's cosmopolitan capital Bangkok, where we first set foot after Taiwan.

Nature's symphony invites us outdoors. Paul dons his swimsuit and heads straight for the water. The tide is still low, so the sand caresses his feet for the 6 or so steps between our bungalow and the sea before he dives straight into the shallow, crystal clear water, letting his body float to the surface.

After a while, he emerges looking relaxed and ready to embark in another productive day working on his web site: iTools. After changing out of his swimsuit, with laptop in hand, he strolls slowly towards the cafe where his dreams and visions of recreating iTools are turning into reality.

This is all observed as I sit in a bamboo chair on the balcony of our beach bungalow just a few feet away. The bungalow sits on stilts 2 feet above the sand. The balcony is made of slats of wood that are an inch or so apart from each other. The singing birds come to visit under foot in search of crumbs that have fallen. It is not uncommon to be visited by the occasional rooster or stray dog as well.

The sights to be appreciated from our balcony don't stop there:

Off in the distance there are a dozen or so boats anchored in the tranquil bay. Most are long boats (over sized canoes with small gas engines mounted on the back, attached to a propeller by a 20 foot shaft). The other boats are for diving as Ko Tao is the mecca where people come to get scuba certified.

Also visible, just 1 kilometer off the northwestern coast is Ko Nang Yuan, three very rustic, undeveloped islands that are joined together by a sand bar.

We had the pleasure of knowing these islands up close and personal after swimming to them one day - much to our surprise - through jellyfish inhabited waters. We could not see them, but the intermittent stream of little stingers kissing our bodies made their presence undeniable.

A few dozen other unassuming bungalows can be seen in the hills at the end of the curving bay blending into the landscape of a tropical forest broken by enormous boulders.

As I sit peacefully on our balcony taking it all in, I suddenly realize: the waters are calling me too. What a beautiful way to wake up.

Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok, Thailand

2007-12-17T23:35:09Z

We enjoyed the Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok with our travel partners, Mike and Malani

Beyond Taiwan's Stereotypes

2007-12-17T07:37:00Z

When many think of Taiwan, images of grand scale factories pumping all manner of goods that receive the" Made in Taiwan" tags come to mind. But venture out of the bustling metropolis of Taipei, down the mountainous eastern shore of the island and one marvel after another unfolds before you.

As the high speed train pulls out of Taipei station, it leaves behind the world's tallest building, the 101-story Taipei 101. It rolls southward past water-soaked rice fields being turned over by man and ox. The contrast presented by mounting a train for 30 minutes is stunning.

Before I can absorb the change from city to farmland, another vista is painted through the train windows: the magnificent coastline. Our appetites for scenery are wet by the time we disembark three hours later in Hualien. We rent a couple of motorbikes and continue down the scenic road hugging the coastline towards Taitung. Dramatic mountains of marble covered by lush vegetation plunge from great heights straight down into the ocean, which pounds them relentlessly with waves that throw up enormous splashes as they meet.

The road's mere existence along the vertical rock and beside the tsunami-battered shore is impressive. Sometimes seeming to hang right off the edge of the island, sometimes plowing right through solid rock, the roads and tunnels we traveled on two wheels granted us a view of Taiwan's grandiose, and often overlooked beauty.

Hungry for more, we plan a trek through Taroko Gorge, which we hear is a gem and among the world's most scenic spots. After a night's rest in Hualien, we hop back on the scooters and head for the train station to return them and catch a bus north to Tienshiang, a small town most of the way up the gorge. Only my normally good sense of direction failed us. We ended up who knows where, lost without the slightest sense of where we were or which direction the station was.

Aggravating the situation was the fuel tank indicator on Joanne's bike. It was so far below the empty line that it wasn't even remotely associated with the scale anymore. But in a time crunch to catch the bus, we decide to push on. I "ask" a fellow motorist stopped at a light, shrugging my shoulders, wrists together, palms up: "choo! choo!", then making a revolving piston motion with my arms. Thankfully, he answers my pantomime with surprisingly good English. Unfortunately, he asks: "Which town's station?" Sadly, we weren't even in Hualien anymore.!

Remarkably for us, but typical for the overwhelmingly hospitable attitude the Taiwanese have towards visiting foreigners, he stops his journey and escorts us back in the opposite direction through a maze of similar looking streets and alleys for 15 minutes until we're back at the Hualien train station. This helpful and often curious attitude was repeated again and again as we navigated, often stumbling with effective illiteracy, deafness and muteness from the language barrier.

With minutes to spare, we pull into the bike rental shop, come to a stop, and Joanne's putt-putt puts out its last putt and dies, out of gas. Amazing.

We hurry to the ticket counter, buy two tickets to Tienshiang and board the bus. Setting our packs at our feet, we begin to reminisce about yesterday's outstanding experience riding the scooters down and up the coast, stopping here and there to check out whatever called to us. And then it hit us... What are we doing on a bus!? We need to make the journey into the gorge on bikes! Disembarking just as the bus was to pull out, we make our way back to the ticket counter, where they exchange our tickets for cash, which we exchange again for our trusty two wheeled adventure-mobiles.

And so we cruise to and through the stunning gorge on a narrow road hugging one side or another of the meandering . base of the deeply eroded canyon system. Cut over millennia by frothy whitewater inevitably pouring from mountaintop to sea, it exposes wonders: To our sides stand near-vertical slopes of exposed marble with unlikely but plentiful trees squeezing through the cracks, some of whose roots can be seen tracing a path downward over the rocks into another crack. There are thick moss-covered areas where water oozes out seemingly from solid rock and patches of jade to delight the eyes.

Hours of awe ensue as we climb, crossing a dozen bridges and traversing a dozen tunnels drilled out from solid rock wherever neither side could hold a road or where recurring landslides bury efforts to shape this wild space into a motorist pass under heaps of rocks and boulders.

The balmy weather we began with at its mouth where it pours into the sea changes to crisp mountain air as we rise up, and up and up. Along the way, we are passed by several busses zipping past all the goodies that we stopped to admire. We soon realized that their stops were defined not by their beauty, but by the road engineer's ability to make a parking area for buses, where they and a hundred others would briefly snap photos and move on. That was almost us.

We bed dreamily that night in Tienshiang, blessed by our tendency to follow our instincts. An early dawn hike up to one of the many nearby peaks - whose trailhead had no bus parking - topped the experience off with a clan of howler monkeys and literally breathtaking vistas (or was that the steep unrelenting climb?). Back in town, with wonderfully sore muscles, we sip enough oolong tea to warm our weary bones, and then got to ride the winding roads all over again in reverse, enjoying it much more than any rerun we've ever seen.

Taipei Update

2007-11-29T23:52:32Z

After a great weekend with friends in San Diego and getting some last minute stuff taken care of (such as buying this Blackberry that I am typing on now -which we LOVE) the drive up to L.A.could not have been smoother.

The flight did not feel like 14 hours, 6 maybe. The plane was quite empty, only 90 people. Apparently a full house would be 400 - so almost everybody got a row of either 3 or 4 seats to themselves. Getting to lie down to sleep makes all the difference. The food on the flight was Asian style and we loved every bite of it.

We had chosen a hostel before landing, we hoped there was space got on a bus and made our way 40 minutes away to the center of Taipei.

The time change has played a little number on us, we get up each night between 2 and 3am, our tired bodies say go back to sleep,our minds say get up! It doesn't help that I have a head cold and so breathing while lying down is a challenge.

The city feels like a mixture between Las Vegas and New York with all the people in the streets and neon signs everywhere! The city is very alive, surprisingly clean, and safe. The big difference being, even though there are people everywhere it does not have the same hustle and bustle feel that NY has, it is much calmer here, no one honking their horns or trying to run you over. I have yet to see a beggar. It also feels like these 2 North American cities because it is a consumers dream. You can buy anything and everything here!

All the signs are in Chinese characters so we can't understand any of them. It's funny because there have been a few times that we have tried to ask a question and the person responded by pointing to the answer which is written, all we can do is smile, nod our heads to say thank you and shrug our shoulders.

We walk, take a bus, or the MRT (Metropolitan Rapid Transit-the metro) to where we want to go. It's incredibly efficient, clean, quiet and smooth to ride on. If we don't already know where to get off, it really helps to have the name of the place written in Chinese characters to be able to show it to the bus driver, and but again nod and smile.

In a few days we will make our way to the countryside, not sure where yet, but it will be interesting to experience the contrast.

It is winter, and in the Northern Taiwan that means it is chilly and rainy, our sweaters and rain jackets accompany us daily.

The streets are filled with food stands with all kinds of goodies. Sometimes we don't know what we are trying and if there is no one to translate we go on looks alone and simply bite in. Yesterday we tried snakes blood with rice, it was pretty good. Everyday as we walk the streets we try new things as they call to us or when a line up is long- we figure it's probably a local favorite that must be sampled.

The countless food stands in the streets and alleys are so good that we have only been to a restaurant once. Today we are getting together with one of Paul's old DivX co-workers, I'm guessing we will go to a restaurant.

Besides the jet lag, the one true re-adjustment is not being able to freely communicate with those around us, something we grew accustomed to and loved doing in South America.

Glutenous Rice Balls

2007-11-28T10:51:30Z

All over Taipei's streets and alleys, hand-made glutenous rice treats are sold. These range in texture from marshmellow-spongy to hard-boiled-egg-firm. Many are in the form of balls of various sizes and colors, and we're always surprised by their fillings.

This afternoon, it was green and mid-firm balls filled with julienned marinated ginger - spicy! On the street just now, we were surprised to find ground nuts and sugar inside a super spongy sticky ball, which Jo can be seen devouring above.

Yum. We're off to see what other goodies await.

Cultural Immersion

2007-11-28T03:07:14Z

After almost a year of traveling Latin American countries, I can proudly say that we have achieved our goal of integrating a new culture into our daily thoughts and experiences.

Having had the opportunity to dive into Latin America we learned firsthand of the cultures likeness to ours and it's contrasting and colorful ways that differ from our North American upbringings. Often these differences challenged the foundation in which our thoughts and actions were born from and opened our eyes to a new reality. A new reality that will undoubtedly help shape us during the continuum of growth throughout our lives.

The greatest gift that I have been given from our extended travels so far, is that of a bigger picture in life. I can best describe it as a feeling of centeredness that offers a solid platform for which my perspective may shape and re-shape itself from moment to moment without the limitations set forth by expectations. I am more receptive to new experiences and appreciate them in the now for what they really are rather than what I think they should be.

This, which has forever changed us, was largely in part to learning Spanish. It was abundantly clear to us that over time, the shrinking language barrier gave way to a cultural exchange and in turn deeper self exploration.

It figures, just as we have wrapped our hands around the language with enough proficiency to share and learn about any topic that may present itself, we go ahead and decide to change continents!

So we now find ourselves in Asia, eager to jump into another culture, we immediately place ourselves off the beaten path eating among the locals. I'm not sure if it was the blank look on our faces as we stared at the Mandarin characters on the menu or simply that we were the only non-Asian in the restaurant, but after a few minutes an English speaking Singaporean came to our rescue and helped us order a typical Taiwanese breakfast.

When no such help presents itself we begin an impromptu game of charades. We are also attempting to memorize some characters so that we can recognize a place or know if we are going into the right bathroom (now that would make a great story, wouldn't it?)

Based on our previous experience in Latin America, in order to get the full cultural experience in Asia, it may hinge on our ability to communicate.

It's never easy starting over, but it's also never as exciting.

We found our way once and we shall do it again, even if it feels like the blind leading the blind at times, we are up for the challenge and welcome the unknowns that lay ahead.

Thanksgiving in San Diego

2007-11-27T20:08:51Z

We celebrated American Thanksgiving at our friends Bill and Nancy's in San Diego. Picture if you will - 5 kids, 2 dogs, and 12 adults all under the same roof. The kids running around in and out of the kitchen which was buzzing with people fixing themselves drinks, helping with the chopping, dicing, stirring or baking. The two dogs that were brought by friends moved underfoot, sniffing around their new environment (probably hoping for some food to fall). All the while everyone was catching up or getting to know each other.

Dinner prep was absolutely chaotic in the most pleasant of ways, and somehow it worked! Hours and hours later, a huge feast was ready to be devoured by all.

The festivities included us all dancing around in the living room, doing some limbo stick acrobatics, playing ping pong in the garage and eventually sitting outside around a fire. We felt thankful to enjoy the warmth of a great group during our three days in San Diego.

Reset Between the Caribbean and Southeast Asia

2007-11-25T02:28:40Z

After a couple of months absorbing the Caribbean culture, we stopped in Mexico City for a few days and just enjoyed Thanksgiving with our friends in San Diego.

We took advantage of reliable Internet - which we didn't have since entering Cuba - to get some things done, like backing up photos to my pc in Montreal and booking some return tickets out of Bangkok, Thailand. They won't issue a visa without proof of onward bound transport. We also took advantage of access to stores selling everything we needed to restock particular consumables, replace worn gear and change some clothes for the climate.

I also bought a Blackberry Curve to replace the Windows Mobile HTC TyTN powerhouse of a phone/computer that was ultimately high in options but lacking in actually getting something done quickly. The Curve, with its qwerty thumb board, that I'm typing quite happily on now will be our new connection to the broader world beyond our location via email, RSS news subscriptions, surprisingly effective web access, Wikipedia, GPS positioned Google Maps, and other great tools that stroke our sense of connectedness to the pulse of the world as we move.

We're packing our small packs (freshly waterproofed) for the next leg of the travels that starts tomorrow morning in Taipei, Taiwan and follows with Bangkok, Thailand 10 days later.

Flowing in a River of Wind

2007-11-20T02:02:57Z

Kitesurfing has intrigued me for years, ever since I stood in awe watching someone in San Diego drawn effortlessly across the water by the wind. I came to Cabarete, Dominican Republic, to strap on a kite and feel it for myself.

Cabarete is one of the world hot spots for kitesurfing - relatively consistent winds, warm waters, lots of facilities, and the world kitesurfing competitions are held here. On a windy day during the high season, the sky is littered with a hundred kites in the afternoon.

The beach is lined with schools, teachers and kites for rent. After interviewing three independent teachers, I chose Yohan, a nice Frenchman with which I developed an immediate rapport.

After a day of theory and work on kite setup, beach launches and control of a small training kite on the sand, I was hungry for more, but time was up.

My second day of lessons would have me fly the kite on land.

To demonstrate, Yohan pulled one side of the control bar towards him. The kite swung quickly across the sky in an arc, and when it reached the apex above us, it yanked him right off the ground more than a meter. The enormous power of the kite was immediately evident. I would later see people launch 10 meters into the sky, travel 30 meters forward and land softly in the water. The wind's enormous raw power could seemingly be both harnessed and tamed, I thought.

I strapped a harness onto my waist and hooked on the four lines leading to the 8 square meter kite. The two outer lines are attached to the control bar, which when pulled or let go in unison draws in the edges of the kite or relaxes them, serving to power and depower the kite. Favoring one side steers its position along an arc that stretches from low to either side of you to straight above head. A simple principle, this should be a snap.

Reality, of course, would take me another way. I found it very difficult to control the kite and to keep it aloft. I spent more time crashing and relaunching the kite than flying it. Each crash smashed my ego down another notch, until I was left with a deeply carved nest of ineptitude. I cut the planned 3 hour lesson short at half time and sat alone, humbled on the water's edge looking out over the ocean. Frustration grew into dejection and bloomed into an all-out sense of failure.

The feeling was overwhelmingly depressing. My desire to do has always been met with the necessary matching capability. But now, despite wholehearted effort, I couldn't. I contemplated whether I could still pick up new skills and excel at them. I usually take the bumps of the learning curve as an enjoyable challenge, but this day, I faced difficulty by running away from it. I abhorred the feeling of quitting with failure.

After some more overly dramatic self dialog, the lapping waves calmed me and I concluded that I would be establishing the first footholds of regret if I didn't keep at it until I "got it".

The next day I approached the endeavor with a refreshed spirit and renewed vigor. This day, the kiteing was outstanding. The winds were twice as strong, between 15 and 20 knots and stable. I progressed quickly, keeping it aloft, gaining control of the kite, positioning it where I wanted.

Where on previous days, when I would misguide the kite for just an instant it would go hurling violently towards the ground, ending flight with a crash. On this day I was almost always able to recover control without an impact - which has really contributed to my feeling in control of the kite, instead of the other way around.

I was ready to move off the shore into the water to work on "body dragging". That's where I fly the kite in figure 8 patterns above and get dragged in an S pattern across (and sometimes hopping over!) the water. I now had a first-hand sense of the kite's power. It was a thrilling load of fun that had me perma-grinning ear to ear.

Where previous day's water crashes meant swimming back to shore, untangling the strings and relaunching - a 20 to 30 minute effort - I am now able to relaunch the kite while it sits in the water, a great feeling, and an even greater time saver.

With kite control and water launches down pat, I grabbed a board, holding it in front of me, and let the kite drag me 30 meters from shore. There, I positioned the board under my feet with one hand, flew the kite with the other while treading water - a coordinated dance I would soon loose awkwardness with - I strapped my feet into the padded slots perpendicular to the 138cm wide board. Finally, scanning the area for kites whose lines I didn't care to become entangled with, I made the kite fly a quick figure 8 above my head, which lifted me up to the surface of the water. Placing my kite lower towards the horizon, I am led, skimming on the surface on the board - finally, at long last, I WAS KITESURFING! Well at least for a few seconds. :)

The following days brought more consistency, changes of direction, and "out & back" navigation. With that skill, I earned my IKO Certification. I can now rent equipment anywhere in the world and start going out on my own - woohoo!

I secured a week long equipment rental and set out to practice during every sufficiently windy moment. Although the wind and weather was suitable only three days out of the week (Tropical Storm Noel came through - dumping sufficient rain to flood many parts of the country, killing many more than the government would admit to, for fear of hurting the tourism industry, but I digress), I enjoyed my new sport tremendously and organized my days around the anticipated arrival of the winds around 1 or 2pm each day.

As the days went on, my muscles learned their new patterns and struggle slowly turned to flow.

The feeling is tremendous. Like surfing, but with a never ending wave and a choice of speed and direction. Or perhaps like sailing a boat the size of a skateboard and the commensurate agility to stop and change direction, even 180 degrees, at will.

This flow amplified in those moments when I caught the wind just so, when its potency was matched equally by the counter force exerted by the edge of my board digging into the water, cutting a path diagonally with and perpendicular to the wind. Leaning back, the weight of my body was supported almost entirely by the harness on my waist, which itself is an extension of the kite and the stream of wind it's anchored to.

At day's end on what would be the last time out, a deep sense of idyllic satisfaction set in: Over the call of muscles drawn on all day pleading for notice, past the tingling of salt water on my lips and with my mind as wildly fired up as the sky's burnt orange glow - I realize that I'm flowing in a river of wind on its side of the frontier between the worlds of water and air.

The Learning Curve of Travel

2007-10-22T20:32:10Z

With every new place visited there is a new curiosity to be fed, the senses are indulged with new sights, smells, foods and people. There is a rebirthing process which takes place upon arrival to each new location and begins the moment we have left the previous destination. Some places require little to no "labor"- these places are relatively effortless and painless to incorporate ourselves into while other places a lengthy and sometimes arduous process ensues. Invariably, our basic needs which must be met are the same as with every newborn - to be nourished and out of harm's way.

Figuring out which way is "up", is part of the adventure and of the unfolding of our journey. Where will we sleep? Where will we eat? How will we get from one place to another? How much is it supposed to cost? Is this person to be trusted? Where are we?...Are just a few of the many questions and unknowns that are a part of our rebirthing process when we arrive to a new place. Hand in hand we find our way, and the ways of a place and its people are learned.

With every passing day, newness falls away and a routine begins to set in. The routine offers small pleasures that would otherwise be taken for granted, knowing where we will sleep and eat leaves much time for deeper exploration and introspection.

When arriving in the Dominican Republic, we landed in Santiago and still needed to make our way to our final destination of Cabarete. We were only able to take a bus as far as Sosua, because the taxi union disallowed buses from going to Cabarete. Conveniently, taxi's awaited the arrival of the buses and pounced on each person who disembarked hoping to get a fare. Not knowing any different, we bit and took a taxi.

We soon learned that there are other much cheaper means of travel around the Dominican. Gua gua's are mini-vans that will stuff as many people in as are willing to get in, no specific stops just wave out your hand and one will surely stop in no time at all.

Then there's the "moto-conchos" (motorcycle taxis), main streets are lined with all types of 2 wheeled transport, varying from mopeds to motorcycles in all conditions. These too will take as many passengers as are willing to get on, the most I've seen so far is 5, four adults and 1 child. No need to wave out your hand simply walk a few steps and the driver's will whistle when they drive past in either direction - not to be mistaken for the local cat call which is a very distinctive kissing noise. The young Dominican men who usually drive these moto-conchos seem to spray their testosterone in a stream of obnoxiously loud mufflers and drive at crushing speeds, always helmet free as if this display were a measure of their machismo.

Paul had his first ride on a moto-concho the other night. The motorcycle had no headlamp making them invisible on these unlit streets, but this didn't seem to phase the driver one bit, maybe we'll stick to gua guas.

When arriving to Cabarete, we were initially inundated with locals trying to sell us goods and services of all sorts, one shoe shine boy even tried to convince Paul that he should get his flip flops shined, did I mention that Paul's flip flops are made of plastic?! Another woman on the beach stated with conviction that Paul's hair is long enough for her to braid, thankfully he passed on her offer. As the days passed and we walked the same streets and the same shoreline of beach, the locals began greeting us and chatting it up instead of making a sale their primary objective, inviting us into their culture.

We have discovered a wonderful bakery with freshly baked bread, the owner greets us with a kiss and open arms, along with the occasional impromptu meringue dance lesson behind the counter.

One day I ran into Collasa, the woman who cleans our room, she was carrying what to me was a foreign looking vegetable that I have since learned is called guan pan. After questioning her about it, without a second thought she invited me to her home to learn how it is prepared.

On another day when no winds blew, we traveled up into the nearby mountains and joined a canyoning crew for the day. Starting at the top of a ravine, we descended throughout the day to its base across rocks and stream bottoms, over boulders, swimming through pools, rappelled down waterfalls, jumped off cliffs into pools of crisp fresh water. All the while, surrounded by lush vegetation, songbirds and rays of sun occasionally piercing through the canopy.

These days our routine has us wake after a full restful sleep, we make our way to the beach, do some yoga, go for a swim then return to our hotel where Marsia, one of the owners, has been kind enough to let us use her fridge to store some health filled treats which we bring with us to our favorite breakfast spot. We usually rest until about 1pm, when the winds pick up, beckoning Paul to strap his kite on and be drawn by their power across the ocean - his new sport: kitesurfing (more from Paul later).

Our routine, our favorite spots and new found friends will soon be left behind only to re-start the learning curve of traveling to new places all over again, but with each destination we bring just a little bit more experience and know more of ourselves as we go.

Unseen Side of the Turks and Caicos

2007-10-16T22:12:44Z

Many come to the Caribbean for the idyllic imagery in glossy tour package brochures; And there’s plenty of that on the Turks and Caicos Islands. But we were looking for something else – the Caribbean lifestyle as it exists outside of tourism.

After three days in touristy Provo, we were ready to venture towards the local flavors we knew sat in the islands to the east – North and Middle Caicos. There’re several flights a day between the islands, but we wanted to go as the natives would: by small motor boat out of the Leeward Marina. Of course this proved to be an adventure unto itself…

Crossing waters

After days of paying $25 for a five minute taxi ride with the unfriendliest collection of drivers, we’d learned how the locals got around: jitneys. These simple unmarked subcompact cars drove around and gave a quick double honk when approaching people on the road. Wave them down, and hop into whatever seats remain. Ours barely ran, sometimes seeming closer to stalling than running, its driver cheery but not quite able to speak English and he didn’t know where the marina was. Another passenger provided the directions and good conversation and we got where we needed to go.

That’s one of the sweetest parts of leaving the tourism behind. Things haven’t been sanitized, they are raw, unpredictable and always interesting.

Upon arrival at the tiny marina, we asked a few Belongers (native-born) which captains would be heading to North Caicos today. One, with a tiny boat not more than a foot deep and ten feet long was doing a run with seven propane tanks. After calculating our weight and figuring that we and our backpacks wouldn’t sink the boat, we hopped in. Despite his assurances that he’s been moving these tanks for fifteen years without incident, once they started jostling around on the waves, I did imagine a propane explosion that would be the end of PoJoGo, but was shortly distracted by the three foot deep turquoise waters with their white sandy bottoms displaying the constantly shifting patterns projected by the sunlight through the interplay of the waves. I sat transfixed by the simple beauty around us, occasionally refreshed by seawater splashed from the bow of the boat into my face.

One with them all

We landed on the western shore of North Caicos and threw our bags into the bed of the only pickup truck there, hitching a ride into the inland settlement of Kew.

The 300 or so that call this home, like the rest of the island, are made up of Belongers, Haitians and Dominicans. Besides one pair at the island’s fancy hotel and the American road engineer, it appeared that we were the only white people there.

We would always greet passersby with a friendly, “Hello!” which was often met with a shy response, if any at all. This, we learned, was a language barrier. The many Haitians who immigrated here call Creole their native tongue. It is similar to French, which they mostly all speak as well. “Ah!, Bonjour!”, we’d counter with and watch as their surprised faces lit up brightly at the unexpected. Many local doors were opened to us via language. This same pattern played out again and again not only with French for the Haitians but with Spanish for the Dominicans. The language barriers created three distinct and unmixing groups here. At ease with all three languages, we felt warmly welcomed and accepted by them all, something that not even the the Belongers who speak only English could have the pleasure of knowing. How rare to feel so culturally boundless amidst such pronounced distinct cultural lines.

Secluded Beaches and Roads

Together, we passed some days alone on natural beaches along the north shores of both North and Middle Caicos islands.

One day, we walked the deserted road to the beach at Bambarra. Pelican Cay (small island), a 45 minute swim offshore beckoned us. Goggles donned, we swam to its backside and drifted slowly in the ocean current past gorgeous corals teeming with brightly colored fish of all sizes and shapes.

During the swim there, the sky thundered loudly and lit brightly from a storm in the near distance. Although we knew a lightning strike on the water would pass around us as long as we weren't connected with the ground, the thought of electrocution kept us vigilantly watching the storm's movement. Thankfully, it continued away from us, soaking us once again in the bright sun.

Exhausted after the longish swim back to shore, we splayed ourselves out on the footprint-free beach and snoozed the afternoon away.

Other days had us explore other magnificent beaches - the perfect kind you dream of - sweeping expanses of fine white sand bordered on one side by lush green trees swaying, and calm turquoise sea lapping gently on the other. Nowhere were there buildings, not even people, even after exploring the coastline for a couple of hours. It was our own piece of heaven.

Of course, getting from one of the only four settlements on the North Caicos to the coast required some creativity. There are no taxis, no buses and very few vehicles here.

The roads, sometimes hard packed sand, gravel or potholed concrete hosted our flip flopped feet clacking away until a passing car would be met with an outstretched hand. These rides were always interesting - for them since they don't often get outsiders passing through and for us because we got to meet a random sampling of the inhabitants. Some were so taken with the conversation that they'd slow almost to walking pace to stretch out the conversation. And that was fine with us.

Before the Tourism Hits

We feel incredibly lucky to be one of the few who know these sights as nature made them, before they are swarmed by condos and all-inclusive resorts. Hope these secrets are safe with you, shhhh!

Photos: Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos

2007-10-14T17:01:08Z