Viva La Dream Travel

1875km, 53 Hours, 3 Countries, and 1 Piece of Yak Cheese Candy

noreply@blogger.com (William George) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 13:09:00 +0000

Entry #281109 Tibet, China to Goa, India

Suffering the effects of altitude sickness I was in a deep, delirious semi-conscious state when I felt a delicate shake to my shoulder. A member of the tour group was informing me that it was time to go. My journey with these complete strangers, who after five days I am more than happy to announce are my good friends, is now over. The bus had stopped at the side of the road and in front of it was a T intersection. Not with traffic lights, or yield signs. Rather a dusty Tibetan plane in which my new acquired friends would be travelling right back to Lhasa and I would be travelling left towards the Nepal border. I gathered my things, bid my farewell and gratitude and boarded the Landcruiser awaiting me.

After some time on the road we pulled into a small typical town of the area. We approached and small building and after stopping I was happy to stretch my legs. The driver indicated for me to follow him and we pushed aside a curtain that was hiding a doorway and I was told to sit down at a knee height table; we would be having lunch. Tibetan noodles and yak butter tea was the only thing on the menu, at least it would have been if there was a menu, and I was only too happy to oblige. After some small talk with the owner of the one room house/restaurant/kitchen we got on the road again.

Zhangmu was the destination that was planned to be reached by nightfall but due to significant road works by a Chinese military unit, the small town of Nyalam was as far as the guide and driver could go. We would travel the remaining distance in the morning.

The building that I would be resting my fatigued body in from the road looked similar to many others I had seen in towns along the way, its reverse frontage was of concern however. The engineering and planning behind the construction of a whole row of these concrete and brick structures was extremely questionable, and it seemed that whatever material was laying around at the time was added to the framework. Landslides occurring in this part of the world are not out of the question and the quicker the next day came the better in my eyes.

Thankfully I awoke in one piece and I was standing in front of a staunch Chinese border official in next to no time. My bags were x-rayed, I was questioned as to the subject of my reading books and every pocket was turned inside out before I could finally continue to the Nepalese side. This immigration premises drew no comparisons to its neighbour. It was attended by such laid back officials I was almost expecting to hear Buffalo Soldier on the speakers.

I negotiated with a local driver for transport to Kathmandu and I waited for the 7 other people that would be squeezing their luggage and persons into the vehicle as well. The man that sat next to me spoke no English but kindly offered me a yellowy stick the size of a piece of liquorice. At first I was hesitant but when he placed some in his own mouth I took the gamble he wasn't initiating a Kool-Aid event. I sucked and chewed on this strangely textured and impenetrable object for the next two hours and it certainly helped to keep me occupied. I later found out it was in fact a type of yak cheese that is considered a candy in the Himalayan region, but is also sold as a dog treat in America.

While I would like to say that the road to Kathmandu was smooth and without drama, it was in fact the opposite. A dusty, narrow path constituted the road for the most part of the journey and this was proved dangerous when we arrived at a fresh crash scene in which a truck had lost control and swerved into trees on the crest of a hill.

Arriving in Kathmandu your senses are overwhelmed immediately. Dirt, people, smog, noise and smell all attack at once and it takes some time to adjust. My travel plans originally included trekking in Nepal, but after -20 degrees Celsius cold of Tibet (-4 Fahrenheit) I had well and truly changed my mind to the sun drenched state of Goa in India. I wasn’t sure how I was to get there or by what time but the feeling of jumping into the cool salt water was something I wished for sooner rather than later. That being said I found a residence for the night and decided on an early morning departure.

The start to the morning wasn’t good. I had to convince the security guard at the terminal door why he should let me through without a valid ticket, with the excuse of buying one inside simply not logical in his mind. Luckily persistence paid off and I was eventually permitted entry. That meant very little though as I watched fully booked plane load after fully booked plane load leave before me. Jet Airways was running a number of flights and it seemed was the airline of choice. After these unsuccessful attempts at boarding, the desk attendant suggested the one Royal Nepal Airlines flight leaving to Delhi on that day, with the thought of sand between my toes my eyes lit up, and I am sure the helpful man was happy to see the back of me after I had hassled him for the last 5 hours.

I started to regret this decision however as the bus carrying myself and the other passengers pulled up aside the once state of the art machine. It was dirty, paint peeling and without a shadow of a doubt passed its use by date. The thought of running back to the terminal to await a potentially non existent alternative seat and aircraft did cross my mind but my legs had taken me aboard and the cabin crew began preparations for take off. A number of uncomforting noises were heard during the flight to Delhi but the view across the Himalayas and later a spectacular sunset somewhat drowned out my concerns.

Rushing through customs and out into the unmistakable humid air of Delhi I took the short taxi ride to the domestic terminal and found the ticket desk. I tried my chances at a departure that evening, with the thought of sleeping in the terminal at the back of my mind I asked the kind lady if I had a chance. As it were I obtained a ticket and seat on the last Goa flight of the day and I had successfully secured the remaining piece of the puzzle in my goal to reach the Indian coastline that day, at least I thought it was the last piece.

I landed in Goa and became aware I had no accommodation whatsoever, only a recommendation to go to Arambol beach. I instructed the taxi driver this recommendation and with the evening breeze rushing through the car I still couldn't wipe the smile from my face.

That was until the fact that it was the day before New Years Eve and every room at the inn so to speak was full. I walked the beach, I walked the street, I walked the lane ways asking every hostel and hotel reception if they had a spare bed, to absolutely no avail.

A store attendant had seen me walk past him several times before he approached me and asked if he could help with a room. I was interested but sceptical at the same time. I was shown a room only 50 metres from his shop, down past chickens and young Indian children playing. It was his room, and in exchange for what I am sure was 3 months salary he would sleep at his friends house. It proved a God send, and after 1875km, 53 hours, 3 countries and one stubborn piece of Yak cheese I had arrived. Live the dream...

The Big Sur, Elephant Seals and Ocean Front Piers

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 03:16:00 +0000

Entry # 151211 San Francisco - San Diego

Heading off from San Francisco in our rented Ford Escape, it was hard to contain our excitement even though the sun was yet to peak its head above the horizon. We had the goal of getting to Santa Barbara by day's end, and would be taking coastal Highway Way 1 for the most part of the journey.

We didn't get far before we were forced to stop due to one passengers ineffective bladder management, but it was in the sleepy yet picturesque Los Gatos so there were no complaints. The late Steve Jobs who founded the most famous half eaten apple in history, had a residence in this area and it was no wonder why. Tree lined streets, small community shops and attractive hillsides presented a strong feeling of comfort.

Pushing on it was surprising the variety of views out of the car window, from dense forest to sparsely populated moonscape and not long after the rocky coastline of Pebble Beach. The local homes of the area were painted pale blue or a soft yellow, complimenting their surroundings and even evoked a certain degree of Truman show-esque.

One of the more breathtaking vistas on the journey along the Pacific Coast Highway is the Big Sur. There are countless vantage points from which to stand atop the cliff, feeling the breeze against your face and hear the rumblings of the ocean below ever so slowly winning the war against ancient rock formations. It is hard to fathom the large metropolis' of San Francisco and Los Angeles sandwich this unspoilt natural beauty.

We weren't the only mammals with a liking to unspoilt beauty mind you. A few hours down the Highway we came across the 5000lb Californian Elephant Seals who for the most part seemed to like nothing more than sleeping the hours away. There was as always, an exception, two members of the colony seemed to have a misunderstanding about a particular lady friend, providing somewhat of a David Attenborough nature exclusive.

The day begun to give way to the night, and we became more assertive that our pit stop for the evening could be further south. With the American classic Ventura Highway replaying in our minds and the asphalt beneath ringing the song true, we progressed all the way to Huntington Beach.

There was only a short distance left in our journey to San Diego, but a time restriction was in place as we held tickets to a San Diego Chargers v San Francisco 49ers game that was not to be missed. Setting off on the road, San Clemente was decided as our lunch time venue, and it didn't disappoint. The ocean front pier protruding into the ocean provided the perfect setting.

500 miles from our start point and the better part of two days behind us, we arrived at our destination. While a plane trip or the interstate would have proved quicker no doubt, as they say its the journey not the destination that counts. Live the dream...

Soviet Aircraft, Akon and Mojito's

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 12:00:00 +0000

Entry #090111 Havana, Cuba
I have previously travelled on Royal Nepal Airlines, which I thought wrapped up the "Surprised this thing actually gets off the ground" award, Cubana Airlines however provided some stiff competition. We were aboard a Yak-42 Soviet manufactured aircraft and as we rolled along the tarmac, what I believed was smoke, began filling the cabin. After a few tense minutes that seemed like a whole lot longer, we came to the conclusion that the white mist bellowing out the floor beneath was in fact air conditioning. We thankfully arrived safely at Jose Marti Airport later that evening.

Emerging from the airport we signalled a cab. The driver was friendly enough from what we could establish through our communal Spanglish. However something wasn't quite right, or rather, something was all too normal in this apparent isle of isolation. It turned out to be the one and only Akon blarring from the car stereo. I guess it doesn't take a stranglehold on the English language to sing "right now na na na." It amazed me none the less, and I was reminded once again that if one thing can bring us all together, its music.

Waking up the next day we were eager to explore the city. Walking out of the small back street our hotel was situated on, the feeling that we were on the set of Black Hawk Dawn was hard to shake. The area of town was dilapidated to say the very least.

Only a ten minute walk away however was the well preserved El Capitolio building, which strikes a remarkable resemblance to its North American counterpart. Continuing on we headed towards the Museo de la Revolucion.

The Museum is housed in the old presidential palace of corrupt dictator Batista. The marble walls are marred with bullet holes, and items from the revolution are scattered around the vicinity of the building, including: planes, tanks and missiles. It may be half a century ago but Cuba wont let people forget what their heroes sacrificed for them. As they say, one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter and whatever your perspective is, its hard not to become engaged in the story of this relatively minute parcel of land sitting off the coast of the world's largest economy.

We took the time to marvel at Habana Veija (Old Havana), which due to UNESCO listing is in fact in far better shape than the rest of Havana. Most of these colonial buildings have been fully restored and many cater for international guests in the form of hotels and restaurants (with a price tag to match).

Later that evening we made our way to the Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabana. This fort was built in the 1770's and in keeping with tradition each night at 9pm a canon is fired.

The significance of the event is to recreate how the early Spanish colonisers would signal the closing of the city gates. It was a time of conflict and pirates let alone other empires must be kept at bay. The participants dress in traditional uniform and for the those who have never heard a canon shot (like myself), its quite the experience.

As with most Latin American nations the nightlife does not kick off till late. We had heard the place to be was Casa de la Musica. This would not open until 11pm, so we sat at a bar opposite the venue and were entertained by the skills of the staff in preparing our Mojito's. A few glasses and some Cristal's (the local beer) later and the crowd across the street was moving inside.

The night was filled with powerful Latino beats that can only be expressed with quick feet and swinging hips. While I would say that our gringo co-ordination would be less than desirable, a group of Russians decided on sharing their bottle of vodka and the night ran into the early morning.

From the 18th century, to the revolution, to Akon - Cuba certainly hypnotizes one into a world of its own. Live the dream...

Delayed Trains, Spreading Jam With a Spoon and A Wonder of the World

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 11:25:00 +0000

Entry #090110 Agra, India

My alarm began screaming, and in a windowless room it could have been midday, however the fact my eye lids were glued shut made it quickly apparent it was much earlier. I managed to walk myself the short stroll through narrow lane ways and an eerily quiet bazaar, to the Delhi train terminal and boarded the 6:15am service which was set to arrive in Agra at 8:12am (that is what the ticket stated anyway).

It was 10:30am and we had been stop/starting for the last 90 minutes and from my estimates we were only about half way there. Fortunately that gave me the opportunity to watch more closely the country side we would have otherwise have flew past. I saw several monkeys jumping playfully around in the trees that lined a particular section of the track, oh and I also had the pleasure of watching a grown man squat and quickly release the contents of his stomach only metres from my cabin window. While some would be turned off their morning tea, I hadn't eaten all day.

Each passenger was provided two pieces of brown bread with butter and jam, the problem was the only utensils provided was a spoon and a knife. This wasn't a Chinese restaurant dilemma where one must master the art of the chopstick, this was plain oversight that as I looked around, everyone was a victim. Nevertheless, life goes on and my spherical device did the job.

Six hours after leaving Delhi we finally arrived at our destination, Agra. Maslow's hierarchy took hold as I sought out the nearest food outlet - two slices of bread in over 8 hours of being awake would not provide the energy I needed to explore this Wonder of the World.

After a quick bite to eat I took my place in the line for entry and alarmingly while I stood patiently a deceased body wrapped in a bed sheet passes me at eye level. It was being carried on the shoulders of several men and I can only assume had been involved in a funeral/blessing ceremony of some type.

After a short wait I was in, and wasn't it a sight to behold. I am a firm believer that there is a small handful of locations in the world that will never cease to amaze all walks of life, and this is certainly one of them. This incredible feat of engineering and act of love illuminates the surroundings effortlessly, the white marble providing a beacon that attracts all those around it. You only have to be in its vicinity to feel the pulse it activates.

I roamed the outskirts of the building footprint for some time, on several occasions taking a seat, pausing and just accepting how truly remarkable it is to be where I am.

Finally I stepped up and viewed the intricate artwork on the Taj Mahal's outer walls. The Arabic,while indeterminable to me sits perfectly against the smooth curves of the structure. Each camera clad tourist respectfully ushers in and around the precious tomb stored within this huge marble structure before re-emerging into the light and the pristine gardens.

The preservation by both the British and Indian authorities is to be admired, hopefully many more generations will have the opportunity to view this magnificent 17th century construction.

While at the time I was unaware that my 8:30pm return train would not be actually leaving until 3:30am I have no complaints, a location like this breeds only smiles and uplifted moods. Live the dream...

A Wild Experience in Sydney

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 23:42:00 +0000

Entry # 070112 Taronga Zoo, Sydney

We had one thing on our minds this morning, and one thing only: Tigers! Taronga Zoo, perhaps one of the most spectacular zoo locations in the world, hold three of the newest additions to the Sumatran Tiger population and we were keen to set our eyes on this critically endangered species.

Catching the ferry from Circular Quay was a joy in itself. We made the 11:15 departure by literally seconds. Once upon board we enjoyed a close up view of the Harbour Bridge, the Sydney skyline and the Opera House. Taronga Zoo is located approximately 12 minutes boat ride from Circular Quay and before we had a chance to put our cameras away we had arrived.

As mentioned, knowing exactly what we wanted to see, we made a run for the Tiger enclosure. Due to the young age of the cubs, they are only on exhibit for a few hours a day so as you would expect quite a number of other visitors had the same idea. A half hour wait ensued but it was well worth it.

Jumilah, the mother stood guard over one of her young son's while the other two cubs were being attended to by zoo staff away from prying eyes.

Spending a few moments staring at these impressive animals you quickly understand why they are so endangered. Their fur, with its intricate design is mesmerizing, and with the obvious sheer strength of the animal, it is evident why it commands more than a couple of square metres of forest for habitat. Unfortunately with palm oil demand destroying forests, these new cubs represent almost 1% of the entire global wild Sumatran Tiger population. It was a truly special experience.

After being moved along from this exhibit we enjoyed the rest of the wide array of animals on exhibit in the zoo, including a particular playful Asian elephant enjoying a bath and a quick moving young Chimpanzee that criss-crossed his giant playground to the amazement of the crowd. Several hours had passed and it was time to depart, with tired legs and full memory sticks we hopped back on board to experience another unrivalled view of Sydney on this perfect summer day. Live the dream...

The Beach - On The Way to Maya Bay

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:21:00 +0000

Entry # 291109 Koh Phi Phi, Thailand

We all awoke with sore heads, and three in our travelling party could not hold the contents of their stomach, in their stomach. That being said, we were determined to make it to paradise itself, at least for Leonardo DiCapario in The Beach.

The Hollywood movie was filmed on an island a short boat ride from Koh Phi Phi, and we were unsuspectingly promised sharks and monkeys along the way.

The tour's first stop was at Monkey Island, and to the credit of the agent who sold us our boat ride tickets in the morning, it was jam-packed full of monkeys. I stepped off the boat and walked into shore and immediately had one of these small jumpy animals at my feet. I would be lying in saying I wasn't apprehensive, but before I knew it the monkey was suckling on my water bottle. Whether there is a lack of fresh water on the island or not, I am not sure, but there went my source of hydration for the day.

Our next stop on the day of adventure was cliff jumping. A side of a nearby island provided levels of roughly: 8, 10, 12, 14 and 20 metre rock ledges to launch oneself into the blue yonder below. Level 8 was completed without a hitch, however the 10 metre drop proved more difficult. My neck was jerked on impact with the water and I almost called it a day. Some peer pressure pushed me to the next level, however with toes curled over the 12 metre high rock formation my legs began to loose strength and stability. They remembered the sharp pain of the last fall and were adamant there wouldn't be another such occasion. That was until a girl softly questioned whether I should step aside to let her off first, my pride got the best of me and before I knew it my arms were flapping in the air like a new born bird unsuccessfully testing its wings. I landed safely, but that was enough cliff jumping for me that's for sure.

As mentioned, sharks were promised on this tour as well. I had my scepticism, which was resultantly well founded. My flippers were at least 2 sizes too small, no sharks were sighted and a strong current had set in. It was decided to jump back in the boat and head to the final destination "The Beach".

The strength of the sun was diminishing and I
wrapped my towel around me for warmth. I turned my head to the reason why the temperature was dropping; a golden sun was setting and providing a vast orange lit sky. A small fishing boat floated slowly past and I realised how tranquil and beautiful this small dot in the ocean really was. We finally made it to The Beach (Maya Bay), which met and surpassed every expectation of paradise presented by Leonardo. As we swam in the turquoise water with glimmers of light shooting through the cove, we knew we were experiencing something truly special. Live the dream...

A View from the Top

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:52:00 +0000

Entry # 040109 - Tupiza, Bolivia:

Crossing the border from La Quica in Argentina to Villazon in Bolivia was a quick insight into the variance in degrees of development of the two countries, and the level of corruption that accompanies that very difference. A couple were picked out at random to pay $130 to pass immigration, while the remaining line paid no fare.

Advancing through the street, concrete framed bare brick infill homes lined the main thoroughfare and we headed straight to the bus station to make up as much distance as we can on our way to Uyuni. Immediately the fashion changes, with the women attending to the fruit market all wearing the traditional countless layers of clothes with an apron over the top and a Spanish colonial top hat.

After booking tickets and passing our bags to the Tetras expert who placed them under the bus, we were on our way. While in Argentina we had an attendant serving drinks and our seat reclined almost horizontally, Bolivia provided no such luxury. Tickets were sold for patrons to sit in the aisle, leg room was all but completely absent and many locals seemed to be all moving house – they carried so much with them. We arrived in Tupiza late in the evening and secured a bed in a local hostel, deciding to leave any further travel to the next day.

Visiting the train station the following day, we discovered quickly that it was not a viable option, being booked out for some time ahead. Disappointed at first we decided to explore this little known community. As what has become quite habitual we headed towards the highest point in the area, Cerro de la Cruz in which one follows the Stations of the Cross up to the mountain peak where a Cross sits watching over the township below. The colourful jagged mountains are imposing, and incite a feeling of the wild west, with the Rio Tupiza the only adversary to break through the landscape. This unscheduled delay turned out to be certainly more than we bargained for. Live the dream..

A Lost World

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:46:00 +0000

Entry # 210109 - Teotihuacan, Mexico

The tour was organised the previous evening for 9am, however on holidays even mid morning is early. After wiping the sleep from our eyes we stumbled downstairs to the hostel lobby and met two Germans and two Argentines who would also be joining us. We all piled into the mini van which was pumping latino hip hop, and we were on our way.

Teotihuacan is located approximately 50km from Mexico City, as such we made a few pit stops along the way including the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, an extremely sacred site for Catholics in Mexico. This was confirmed by a visit from Pope John Paul II to the site where the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared in 1531.

Upon finally arriving at our destination it was hard to imagine that almost two millennium had passed since the plans were laid down to establish this city. The Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the sun are the largest of the man-made structures, with the latter being the third highest pyramid in the world. Usually one would aim for the largest, biggest and best of attractions on holidays. However, it made no difference what rank this pyramid, or any other was to our energetic and knowledgeable guide who claimed to know the real history of the secret society. He left no stone unturned (literally) in transporting us back in time along the Avenue of the Dead. Uncertainty still remains surrounding the exact reason behind the abandonment of the area, however this only serves to add to the eerie and fascinating feel of this lost world. Live the dream….

Arriving at a Coastal Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (VivaLaDream) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:22:00 +0000

Entry # 211208 - Florianopolis, Brazil

Underestimating the language barrier between Spanish and Portuguese we fumbled our way through the bus terminal at Foz Do Iguacu and managed to arrange overnight tickets to Florianopolis. This mode of transport in Brazil is most definitely less comfortable than its counterpart in Argentina, and was made no easier after a police raid/inspection on every item of baggage, pant pocket and undergarment only 30 minutes after departure.

While the language barrier and police raid proved difficult, the 17 hour bus ride was still ahead. Several episodes of 20-30 minutes of sleep could be achieved, but that was a maximum before restless legs or an unscheduled stop would prove too much.

Any feelings of irritability are quickly forgotten mind due on arrival in Florianopolis, a location matched only by its people. It becomes apparent even before the feeling of sand between your toes that swimming costumes come in only one size, small. No matter what shape the woman, her private areas were only just covered from any prying eyes.

Upon greeting the hostel owners, we were shown to our room which to our surprise was empty, all but 6 beds that is. We had our choice of mattress, and after dropping our sweat affected backpacks to the floor we realise the view from our room.

We drearily stumbled to the local supermarket for some cervejas and then retreated to the hostel to kick back and enjoy the late afternoon battle between clouds and a setting sun. Glimmers of light streamed across the sky in what looked like fingers of God stretching down in approval of this little patch of paradise. Live the dream…