Friedmanarchy

Music Video of Circumnavigation 2007

2007-08-05T05:24:00.000-06:00

Yes, it's finally here.

The Bush administration has expanded its eavesdropping capacity in an attempt to learn about and subsequently prevent the development of a music video the likes of which could render the entire nation into a funkified stupor.

But they're too late. The video is cut, and it's right here. Behold:

Click To Play

Yes, this is our vacation video. Please note:

All stunts were performed by Sara Friedman, Scott Friedman, and Jackie Chan.
You can hire us as vacation consultants to accompany you on international travel. We are, however, very expensive.
The resolution isn't as rich as we'd hoped on Google Video; they've down-sampled the video due to its size and its splendor. They were clearly afraid.

If you can't view the video here for some reason, you can always check it out at Google Video - just go here. Thanks for stopping by.

Summer Tunes

2007-06-27T14:43:00.000-06:00

Somebody recently claimed to have created "the best summer mix ever." That's an incredibly bold claim. It's bold, it's impossibly relative, and it can't be proven objectively.

But of course, rather than appropriately debate it on the grounds of logic and the subjectivity of aesthetics, I resolved to create my own seasonal mix. Further, I decided that no matter how positively I felt about it afterwards, I would claim steadfastly that it was a good summer mix, but I would not make any sweeping or drastic claims.

Well, looks like I was wrong. After assembling, rearranging, and evaluating the mix on the many dimensions of mixology, I've completed formal proof (with footnotes) that says this sucker is the is the best mix Summer 2007 has seen thus far. Assemble it yourself at home, or just ask me for a copy.

Friedmix Summer '07

Summer - drink it in. You're on your way to the park/beach with the car windows down. You're toting a beach blanket, a Nalgene of water (or whatever), your favorite color of Fla-Vor-Ice, and a book you're not going to read. The sun won't set until 8:30 PM, so you've got late dinner plans and every excuse to wear only flip-flops for the next three months. Things are looking up.

But you need something else. You need this music:

LCD Soundsystem - Daft Punk is Playing at My House

Start it off strong with a fictional account of a wayward house party. "You gotta show 'em the ropes, kid, show 'em the ropes-uh."

Hot Hot Heat - Talk To Me, Dance With Me

Melody-driven brat-rock off their first album. Laboratory tested for good jump-dancing.

Modest Mouse - Dashboard

Unbridled optimism: "The dashboard melted, but we still had the radio," (from the same folks that brought you "So long to this cold, cold, part of the world").

Electric Light Orchestra - Mr. Blue Sky

Warning: Do not play in rain.

Modest Mouse - We've Got Everything

I challenge you to listen to this and not give somebody a high five (if you're alone and nobody's watching, you can just do an overhead clap).

Ted Leo & the Pharmacists - Where Have All The Rude Boys Gone?

Kenny Loggins heard Ted Leo, went back in time, and made good 80's Summer music. The government's trying to cover it up.

The Decemberists - Summersong

Colin Melloy knows just how you feel, and he'll tell you - but you'll have to dissect the pretentious metaphors. This one's pretty straightforward.

Belle & Sebastian - If She Wants Me

"You're too young to put all of your hopes in just one envelope."

The Shins - Sea Legs

"Of all the intersecting lines in the sand, I routed a labyrinth to your lap."

Smashing Pumpkins - 1979
TV on the Radio - Dirtywhirl
Geto Boys - It Feels Good to be a Gangsta

It does, doesn't it?

Yo La Tengo - Our Way to Fall

What's your summer without Yo La Tengo?

Morcheeba - The Sea

Spread out your blanket and take your nap.

Tom Waits - The Heart of Saturday Night

Slow it down for Tom; he's got something to say.

Brian Wilson - Good Vibrations

No, this isn't the Beach Boys, but it is one of the Beach Boys. Sounds like the original, but it's cleaner and uses samples from the original.

* Bonus Track * Shop Boyz - Party Like a Rock Star

Yes, this is the bonus track. It's not for everybody, so if you don't want some harmless rip-roaring rap music, stay away. "T-T-Totally Dude!"

Some songs are more challenging to love than others, but it wouldn't have any depth if it were all just bubblegum, now would it? Suggestions and revisions are, of course, welcome.

Iceland & Conclusion

2007-06-01T10:38:00.000-06:00

Well, we've been back stateside for almost a month, but the following was written in a notebook at the Reykjavik airport. I guess we got caught up with life and didn't really look back. But here it is, for completion's sake:

--------

We both awoke with excitement and melancholy: we had access to a car and thus, to the Icelandic countryside - and also, it was our last full day of our 10-week world trip. After discussing the significance, we remembered how much we have to look forward to back home and how we're excited to see everybody back in the states.

So we once again hopped in Fran and drove northward, around Hvalfjordur fjord to the small city of Reykholt, the home of eleventh-century Icelandic author and icon Snorri Sandelaurt. He recorded much of what we currently know about Norse mythology.

From Reykholt, we drove further northward to some impressive waterfalls for lunch along the way to Husafell. We learned that several of the more "scenic" routes don't open to the public until July - until then, the rivers are too high, and the gravel roads aren't mended - perfect for a 4x4 off-roading experience or monster truck (we saw several).

We searched for an hour for a fabled lava cave and ended up throwing in the towel, since our maps weren't precise enough to guide us there. We were pretty bummed, since "lava" and "caves" are both extremely cool, and when you combine them into "lava caves," well - that's about as cool as it gets.

Alas, we made a wrong turn on our drive back, saw a small sign, and boom: lava cave.
Outlaws used this particular cave as a hideout. Yeah. Even cooler.

Substantiated with our northward jaunt (which, we realized, was the farthest north we've ever been), we drove back to Reykjavik via an underwater tunnel beneath the Hvalfjordur fjord. The toll was a whopping $15.00, so the whole tunnel ride we made astonished faces, acted really excited, and took a lot of pictures to help justify the payment. We're good at that.

...which brings us to "today", the last (half) day of our massive trip. "Tonight" we shall sleep in Minnesota, in the most comfortable bed we've seen in months.

We began this day with our last all-too-familiar packing episode:

Scott: Okay, you sit on the bag, I'll zip.
Sara: No, I think we can fit another pair of shoes in there.
Scott: You must be crazy.
Sara: Look, if we just elbow the bag this way, it makes more room.
Scott: Wow, you're right!

Yeah, we have a lot of stuff. If these bags could talk, packing would sound like medieval torture.

On the way to the airport, we stopped at the Blue Lagoon Spa for four hours. The entry fees and the prices of the products testify that this natural spa is arguably one of the most elite in the world.

But it was certainly worth the visit - beside the massive, cloudy-blue crater pools they have silica mud, which you're supposed to smear on your face, and they have a natural steam cave where we spent most of our time.

We arrived at the airport for our 22nd flight in ten weeks, and the last of our trip. We went through our normal airport routines - Sara applying lotions from the tester bottles in the duty free shops, Scott half-shopping and half checking the clock.

Thanks to everybody for keeping in touch throughout our trip - sharing our experiences and knowing you were watching and responding motivated us to do even more and go the extra mile.

---------

So, we'll probably still use this page to post meta-adventures and big life updates. We wouldn't presume that our everyday lives are important enough to warrant your time, faithful reader.

However, we're finalizing our big "travel video" with all the interesting video footage we accrued during the trip. We'll upload it to Google Video and post it up here.

Thanks.

Why Hello, Iceland

2007-05-01T15:10:00.000-06:00

What a delightfully bizarre Island.

Our IcelandAir jet landed Southwest of Reykjavik, in a brown, rocky, mossy, terrain, without a skyline or tree in sight. Many of our travel resources have spoken of ¨lunar landscapes¨in references to areas such as Mt. Kilimanjaro or Cappadocia, Turkey - but this one takes the ¨lunar¨ cake.

It was a dreary day and we had a 45-minute commute to our guesthouse in Reykjavik, so we were sorta bummed. To add to the bummer-osity, we didn´t have our checked luggage (it arrived 24 hours later), the storefronts were mostly closed up since it was Sunday, and the food was outlandishly expensive. After an hour of searching, we settled for the cheapest sustenance - a $30.00 pizza that probably wouldn´t pass muster at a nudie bar.

Yes, this island is expensive. Not just the food, either - hardback books on sale for $60.00, a sushi platter for only $120.00. Sure, most big cities such as Tokyo, New York, and Paris have wallet-draining districts, but they also have cheap local markets and bargain baskets - no so in Iceland.

When we turned in that night, we realized that we had reached the safest country in our itinerary (and possibly, in the world), but we were most afraid of being stranded here, due to the inescapable inflation of food and goods over the United States. And so we slept...

Zzzzzz. Zzzzzzz.
Hey, give me back those blankets!
Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz. Zzzzz....

We awoke to a bright blue sky and a great buffet breakfast, we rented a car (a white Toyota hatchback we named ¨Fran¨for no apparent reason) and we were on the road East of Reykjavik by 10:00AM. And there was nothing ¨Bummer¨ about Iceland anymore.

We spent the day in the ¨Golden Circle¨ region, seeing mostly geological sights. We began at Thingvellir, the site of outdoor Icelandic Parliamentary assemblies from 930AD to 1700AD. When the region was first settled by the Norwegians, the representatives of each village assembled at the site and a speaker stood on law rock (near the pictured church) to recite the region´s laws to the rest of the assembly. The government was minuscule and law was based on trust between the populous and the chieftains. We know libertarians who would shed a sentimental tear.

We continued to Geysir, where we walked along naturally colored pools of geothermally heated water and saw the largest active geyser in Iceland - Strokkur. We watched it for about thirty minutes and saw a handful of massive eruptions from only feet away.

Gulfoss, the Golden Waterfall, was breathtaking, especially because the sun caught the spray of the water and created a bright rainbow - so bright, at times, that it sometimes interrupted our view of the falls. We ate lunch overlooking the falls, and were pretty damp from the spray by the time we stood up.

We wrapped up the day with a drive to Hengill and a two-hour hike up the rocky, mossy, peaks. At the apex of our climb, we laid down in the sun atop the moss - it was perfectly dry, but had the cushiony quality of a lamb´s coat. But the time we pried ourselves from the hillside, we had to drive back to Reykjavik.

After a day on the Icelandic countryside, we certainly wouldn´t mind being stranded here... for a little bit.

Another day in Iceland up next!

Roman Holiday

2007-05-01T14:47:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the delay; our travel companions kept us pretty busy...

Since we've visited Rome twice in the last six years and spent our first visit on a crash-course through national museums and ancient ruins, we had the luxury of arriving at our San Pietro B&B and relaxedly saying, ¨so, what now?¨

On our first day we were bistro patrons with house red in our glasses on some pedestrian-only boulevard intersection, listening to a xylophone or accordion performance from street musicians. Midway through the day, our band of travelers doubled to include Vicki ¨wine spritzer¨Friedman and Gary ¨Shoppaerobic¨Friedman. They had the same idea the first night, and we had a lot to discuss, so we made quick work of some street gialatto and dined at Piazza Navona.

In the next two days, our travel companions declared war on the shopping districts of central and northwest Rome. The shops didn´t stand a chance, but it was a lot to conquer in two days...

Gary: Scott! Status report!
Scott: Well, it looks like we´re two blocks from the Trevi fountain.
Gary: Affirmative. Resume shopping! Scotty, I need you to hold more shopping bags!
Scott: I´m giving it all I can! Sara´s two blocks back with a sprained ankle!
Vicki: Leave her! Diesel shop at two o´clock!

Just kidding, we had a great time ducking into the shops; it inspired us to come back to the ¨clean side¨and increase our hygiene after our rustic trek. We also really appreciate the birthday gifts we acquired - thanks so much for your attentiveness and your generosity, you two!

We wrapped up the Italian Job with an evening of Euchre at a cafe near the Pantheon, followed by a nighttime trip to Trastevre for a brief dessert, drink, and hookah experience.

We thought we´d lose some luggage weight in Rome after doling out the souvenirs for the St. Louis Friedmans (and Levines), but some nifty pairs of shoes seemed to have found their way into our bags.

To madre & padre: thanks so much for the Roman rendezvous and showing us a great time - we hope you had a delightful 30th anniversary celebration.

More from Iceland!

Transylvania

2007-04-26T03:00:00.000-06:00

After Bucharest, we were a bit concerned that we may not escape the Romanian techno dance music and leggings (no offense, Kristin) on our trip through historic Transylvania. When our train arrived in Brasov, however, we were pleasantly surprised.

Transylvania has sustained many of its gothic basilicas, hilltop monastaries, citadel walls, and clock towers through centuries of war with the Ottomans, two world wars, the changing of hands from Hungary to Romania, and an unfortunate Communist regime. Most impressive, however, are the mountainside castles, which are (inconveniently for us) spread out along the region, inaccessible by train.

We began in Brasov (Brah-shahv), the largest Transylvanian city. We were happy to find large, pedestrian-only boulevards, and a scenic overlook, accessible by furnicular. We climbed a steep and slippery path directly up the mountain; our plan was to take the furnicular back down after our harrowing, scenic climb. Alas, the furnicular was offline, so we took the same perilous path back down.

We spent the next two days in Sighisoara (See-ghee-shwara), the birthplace of Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler (Dracula). Around Vlad's old home and around the town are merchants peddling Dracula T-shirts, vampire coffee mugs, and other such historically irrelevant merchandise. Conversely, the government-owned sights themselves make minimal mention of Vlad, if at all, focusing instead on the quaintness of the medieval society. It's quite reasonable that the Romanian government doesn't want to wave a big Vlad Tepes banner, if you consider who the man is and exactly what he did...

Mr. Tepes was born in 1431, in Sighisoara. He quickly became a powerful warlord and earned the fear of Transylvania and its neighboring provinces by committing vile atrocities upon his prisoners of war, most frequently: impaling. Impaling entails lodging a person longways upon a metal pike, where they would painfully await death within minutes, or as long as two days. He held "mass impalings," sometimes around his cities or those of his enemies, presumably of over 10,000 people at once.

Atrocious or not, the man is a legend, so his house and his (alleged) castle in Bran (above, at left) are available to visit - just donàt expect much mention of Mr. Tepes on the placards of the government-owned property.

Sighisoara had a similar, quaint, atmosphere, with a massive medieval citadel, named the best-presetved medieval town. We visited Vlad's house in an effort to attend a historical tour - unfortunately, the government decided not to protect this landmark, and a somewhat cheesy restaurant "Casa Dracul" occupies the premises. We went ahead and did a beer thre, of course.

Also unfortunately, Sighisoara didnàt seem to want us to leave - early on our train back to Brasov, we realized we forgot a notebook in an Internet cafe, so we hopped off and retrieved our goods. We took it as a sign to dine there for supper, so we visited a Romanian pizzeria by the citadel and ordered some RED wine.

[Travel Tip: When pointing to a Romanian wine list and saying "Red?" they may nod enthusiastically, and bring you a blush.]

We went ahead and drank a pink wine in honor of Beth and Ryan's wedding.

We returned to the station to purchase tickets and catch the last train, only to find that the advertised prime-time train runs only on holidays! We weren't happy about forking over the extra dough on a taxi, but we made back the extra cash by placing second in the national Romanian couples' tag-team wrestling championship.

Just kidding. We placed first.

Bucuresti

2007-04-26T02:48:00.000-06:00

In our research, the Romanian capitol of Bucharest isn't featured as a tourist spot, but we'd swiftly recommend it to you if you'd like to visit an affordable opera or if you're really into European techno "house" music (it's playing everywhere - bars, loudspeakers, government offices, every vehicle... everywhere).

Our brief Bucharest visit was a classic "first/only day in a new city" in our travel experience; we entertain the challenge of being parachuted into foreign territory, figuring out how to say "hello" and "thank you," procuring a map, and visiting the key monuments on foot, all before sustaining a worthwhile cultural experience that evening.

So, we caught an hour tour of the Romanian parliament building, the Casa Poporlulul, the world's second largest building by square footage behind the Pentagon, and built mainly between 1985 and 1989. Per our tour guide, "we finished ninety percent of the construction by 1989, then we executed our communist president," and, "there are sixty seats in this chamber - there were to be sixty-one, with a larger gold chair for the president, but we shot him, so what's the point?" He also voiced a lot of displeasure about the current Romanian government, especially for a parliament tour guide (you don't see us leading tours of the Cheney mansion).

We caught a spectacular view of Bucharest and the world's longest boulevard from the parliament's balcony, where the executed president was to address the public, but never did; instead, Michael Jackson was the first to stand and shout, "Hello Bucharest."

We scored some opera tickets on the way back to our room and hurriedly ate some delicious food we bought from the supermarket (read: devoured some fruit and crackers, and drank yogurt straight from the cup, for lack of a spoon).

After the opera performance, we felt substantiated in our cursory Bucharest visit, so we turned in and caught up on some of the sleep Anne and Steve stole from us in Istanbul. But now we've recharged, and we're on to Brasov, Sighisoara, and Bran (medieval Transylvania) to see some history.

More from the birthplace of Vlad Tepes (better known as "Vlad The Impaler," or "Son of Vlad Dracul," or simply "Dracula").

Istanbul: The Return

2007-04-24T06:05:00.001-06:00

The four of us spent two more days in Istanbul before going our separate ways. One of these days was April 21st, 2007 - Sara's 26th birthday!

In our triumphant return to the Turkish metropolis, we made frequent stops at "nargile" bars, wrapped up our sightseeing, and spent much of the daylight in the sun, on foot, with baklava, honey figs, and ice cream cones in our hands.

On Sara's birthday eve, we visited the spice bazaar where shopowners peddled vials and grain bags labeled "Turkish Viagra" - if you walk by their booth they shout "my friend - five times in one night!" We then relaxed at a backgammon bar under the bridge of the Golden Horn and dined at a Taxim wine bar - we have Jane and David Gregerson to thank for a fantastic meal (including a molten chocolate cake, which we all shared).

Team Friedman spent the birthday morning jobbing a few miles down the Sea of Marmara and along the Golden Horn coast. For the official birthday evening, the four of us dined at Chan'ga, an uber-posh restaurant in the Taxim district, which featured some of the finest fusion cuisine we've ever tasted (they included a chocolate lime cake for the birthday girl).

Thanks to everybody who called to send their birthday wishes, and thanks again to Anne and Steve for schlepping along several presents across the pond (pssst: Kristin, I promise to change sweatshirts).

To Anne & Steve: Thanks for being so easily manipulated into traveling with us - we hope you had as great a week as we did. You can whirl our dervish anytime.

To Turkey: We had a great time with you, but we're not ready for an exclusive relationship. We'd like to see some other countries, but we certainly want to maintain a friendly relationship. It's complicated. We'll call you.

More in Romania!

Cappadocia: Have you seen this landscape?

2007-04-22T23:26:00.000-06:00

We hadn't seen this landscape in film or printed media, or even heard of this region until we researched it. By the time the four of us caught our first panoramic view, we all wondered why neither pictures nor even the region's name had ever reached us.

The geological wonders of the region owese to volcanoes, basalt, pumice, the Red River, and erosion. Clearly, we're not the first people to be fascinated by it - well over six-hundred first-millennium vave chirches are carved into the volcanic ash, as well as a handful of 100m-deep underground cities, connected by 4km tunnels.

As a bit of an appetizer for the rest ofo ur stay, we started off with a 6 AM balloon flight. An amazing trip - we're still not sure if it's more breathtaking from above or below, amidst the massive monoliths. (This sounds stupid without a visual reference, but we'll post it when we can.)

We're staying in a cave hotel near the small towns of Urgup and Goereme. We hired a private guide for two days - Uzay Taner served as our historical expert and entertainment/cuisine advisor. In addition to fulfilling his guide duties, he shed a lot of light on the confusions we encountered traveling in other (fundamentalist) Islamic nations.

Our first cave sight was a massive underground city carved over four millenniums ago. Initially, it was used as a refuge from invading Hittites, then as Hittite refuge from invading "Sea People", and so-forth for Persians, Greeks, Romans, and Christians. The maze of tunnels and living quarters were constructed with integrated water and ventolation shafts, spearholes, trap doors, and massive sliding-disc barricade doors. It was like Goonies, but real - and arguably, cooler.

We drove along the silk road to several cave monastaries and a caravan palace (when trekking from Amsterdam to Asia, they'd travel in large caravans for protection and duck into these palaces after sunset). Some of the cave paintings were surprisingly well-preserved.

We also visited several craft centers and witnessed the craft (and the purchase) of Turkish ceramics, carpets, and onyx.

We sealed our Cappadocia experience with an evening of whirling Dervishes, folk dancing, and disqutheque dancing. Our seats were from t row for the performance, so all four of us were "volunteered" during the show.

Amidst the reenactment of a traditional wedding ceremony, several gentlemen were chosen to compete in a dance, and Steve won hands-down with push-up claps and some sophisticated breakdancing. Shortly after, they paraded him around with another woman (it wasn't Anne), and we think Steve may in fact be a married man in the eyes of Turkish law.

The other three of us were pulled onstage for the belly-dancing portion. We three danced with the belly-dancer, and we earned some decent applause - anybody taht didn't clap probably thought we were professional dancers planted in the crowd.

Yeah, we're that good.

We've a Date in Constantinople

2007-04-22T23:12:00.000-06:00

(Photos pending - sorry!)

...and they're waiting in Istanbul.

Turkey is great to share with friends - in April as well as on Thanksgiving.

The cast of loveable characters for our Turkish segment has doubled to include our dear friends "Wee Little" Anne Gregerson and F. Stephen Griffiths. Since our rendezvous in Sultanahmet, Istanbul, we've been having our fun and doing our best not to see the interior of a Turkish prison.

We've been enjoying a healthy bit of cuisine and nightlife with our new company - in parts of Istanbul, being an American traveler bears an odd celebrity status; the restaurant wait staff is attentive to the point of badgering:

"Where do you live in America?"
"Well, we're all moving to Chicago."
"Wow, I have family in New Jersey!" (Pause, expecting a response or hug, as if our lives are now intimately intertwined.)
"Okay, great. Well, we love it here in Istanbul. We're here for four nights."
"You need more time!"

That's probably true - in our first full day in the city we visited the fifteenth-century Topkopi palace and Blue Mosque, then spent the entire afternoon in the Grand Bazaar; while we enjoyed the rapid-fire sightseeing, it's it's best digested with some more intersperced strolls/sprawls in the squares, Turkish coffee, and apple tea.

The palace illustrated some of the more bizarre aspects of Otoman culture - we snapped a photo (coming soon) of the gents posing in the "circumcision pavillion" which is adjacent to the harem balcony where they sultan's concubines and their eunuch guardsmen overlooked a pol of jester dwarves playing in small boats. Yeah, that about sums it up.

The bazaar may be the most eclectic, colorful, and at times confusing market we've seen. Shop attendants shout:

"My friend, where are you from?"
"Hello, can I please show you something?"
"Can I please have a minute of your time? Just a minute?"

Anne and Steve seemed a bit conflicted at times; as much as Anne desired, she clearly couldn't dignify them all with a polite "sorry, my good sir, but we're just window shopping. Perchance on our next pass through this corridor, we'll peruse your wares," so this amiable Minnesotan had to politely smile and nod instead.

One lucky shopowner sang a different song: "May I show you how to spend your money on things you don't need?"

Anne laughed and quickly purchased a bracelet.

We sat down for supper in the Taxim district and looked hungrily over the apertif tray - hot "pide" bread, battered shrimp, babaganoug, stuffed grape leaves, brains, green salad... wait, brains?!?

We met our match and have finally drawn the line. So let it be known...

We eat everthing above this line:

Everything but Brains
----------------------
Brains

We do not eat brains. We did, however, appreciate the seafood service policy: pay less for more meat. They achieve this by serving the fish intact - you filet it and pick the meat out yourself.

Anne and Steve made us a small "Chicago packet" of maps, with their Wrigleyville pad plotted for our apartment shopping reference. We're pretty sure they want us to live slocally so we can cook them dinner. But they'll probably order cable, so we have our reasons, too.

Up next: Cappadocia, Central Turkey.

Cretans Wıthout a Cause

2007-04-20T10:34:00.000-06:00

(Photos pendıng... and sorry about the ı's - on a Turkısh keyboard.)

We left our hotel ın Chanıa yesterday evenıng ın search of some grılled octopus (we heard ıt's good here) and perhaps some Rakı (clear lıquor fermented from grapes). As fate would have ıt, we found so much more.

As we walked along the seasıde, we came upon a small market and saw some prospectıve olıvewood souvenırs ın the storefront, so we entered.

We nosed around for the better part of a mınute and started to walk out; we do thıs for hours down the streets - ıts our equıvalent of channel-surfıng whıle travelıng.

As we entered, the shopowner (a whıte-bearded Cretran) polıtely offered us a sample of the honey he harvested from the nearby mountaıns.

Why not, rıght? Here's why not: because ıt's so good that you need to buy ıt, and you'll purchase so much that ıt's a bıt heavy, and you may not have luggange space; and then, even ıf ıt fıts, ıt mıght not get past USA customs; and ıf ıt does, you'll start eatıng ıt wıth apples, then wıth other fruıts, then on a loaf of bread, then you'll need more and more untıl fınally ıt runs out, and you're usıng a spatula, then your hands to get the last drop of nectar, but your hand doesn't fıt ın the jar - a year later, you fınd yourself traffıckıng honey overseas and cırcumventıng several US customs and trade laws, and you have to lıve ın fear of gettıng locked away - forever.

After some consıderatıon, we bought a .5kg jar of The Honey. The owner advısed us to purchase an avocado and eat ıt wıth The Honey, so we ate ıt on the steps of the lıghthouse before dınner.

Perhaps you, reader, wıll joın us for a small pastry wıth a small (small) dallop of The Honey.

To be contınued - thıngs to do ın Istanbul!

Crete

2007-04-14T01:49:00.000-06:00

Crete - historically, home to the Minoan civilization, Daedalus, Icarus, and the Minotaur; presently home to us and a handful of relaxed Greeks.

Our itinerary affords us three nights on the island but that's not enough by a longshot. Our dilemma: the cities, ruins, and natural/geological sights we want to see are spread out along the island (it's a four-hour drive from East to West), we're not rich enough to taxi it everywhere, and we're too strapped for time to rely on the public, intercity, bus system. Our solution: we rented a car.

There she is - our Hyundai - less than $100 for three days with full insurance. Yeah, she's a real beaut'. We named her Kidney Bean, but more recently, we've been calling her K-Bean, or more commonly, Beans.

Boy, it's fun to drive here. No (enforced) speed limits, scenic cliffside drives with huggable turns and switchbacks, and the other drivers politely share the road.

So we spent our first day at the Palace of Knossos, the hub of the Minoan civilization, where we saw the world's first amphitheatre, the world's first paved road, the remains of 3500-year-old frescoes, and the remains of 3500-year-old indoor plumbing, which in its antiquity would still probably function better than parts of present-day Cambodia. We speak from experience.

We walked the beach and ruins of Malia, spent the night in Stalida, then departed for Western Crete the next morning.

Beans got us safely to Rethymnon, a small Venitian city, where we awed ourselves with the most impressive parallel parking - ever (pictured above). The locals who witnessed this feat begged us to pose so they might craft a public monument in our honor; but alas, we only had time to walk the harbor and "old town" and hit the Cretan road.

We reached Chania, the oldest Cretan city, by early afternoon, which is where we'll spend the evening. This city has been pillaged by Turks and Venitians, but both were kind enough to leave harbors, lighthouses, and other monuments in their wake.

We're going to get cleaned up and cause some trouble tonight, since we're splitting town back Eastward tomorrow morning.

Is it Saturday? We think it might be Saturday.

Everyday is Saturday. (Contented sigh).

Eudaimonia

2007-04-12T23:56:00.000-06:00

The ancients spent much of their time, their conversations, and their wine trying to define "Eudaimonia," or the good life.

Instead of trying ourselves to define it, we'd just as soon spend our Athenian time living it, with lazy strolls through ruin-strewn parks, climbs to scenic hills, a little bit of museum education, and long meals of umbrella-shaded rickety cafe tables.

The Athens Archaeological Museum sports a massive collection of three millenniums of Greek sculptures and reliefs. Traversing the artifacts in chronological order illustrates the Greek understanding and appreciation of the human form. They begin where the Egyptians left off - stoic figures hesitantly stepping their left foot forward with their arms pressed tightly against their sides. Within half a century, as Greece grew and diversified, the statues relaxed their legs apart, they cast their arms upwards to grasp tridents and bind their hair, and their faces softened into arrogant smiles. All this by 500 B.C.

The acropolis is the most popular Athenian sight - the Parthenon, a temple to Athena, is the most popular structure therein. It's pretty big, sure - but the pediments were the most significant features, and they're tucked away in a museum now. Our favorite acropolis spot is the Erechtheum, the most holy ancient site. Mythology maintains that this is where deities Poseidon and Athena competed to become the patron God of the city. Poseidon struck the ground with the butt of his trident and made a huge gash in the floor; Athena created an olive tree - you can tell by the city's name that she won (and you'd have to agree if you're a fan of kalamata olives or dirty martinis).

From the acropolis, we followed the ancient paths (or what remains of them) down to the ancient theatres, and further downward to the ruins of the Athens agora, once the site of the marketplace, legal buildings, and the corners where Socrates and Aristotle rapped about Eudaimonia.

If you have a little imagination, you'll probably be most impressed with the Temple of Olympian Zeus. The Corinthian columns stand 17m high, but only fifteen of the original 104 still remain (see picture of Sara in previous entry).

We've been privileged enough to sit and journal at these sites (we're sitting on agora rubble as we write in our notebooks) and enjoy the sun - it's a delightful precursor to a late dinner of olives and Baklava (the Mediterranean dessert, not the mountaineering facial accessory).

We did upload the photos for Kilimanjaro and the safari, in case you haven't seen them yet.

Up next: Crete.

Thank Zeus...

2007-04-10T10:14:00.000-06:00

We couldn't have visited Athens at a more perfect time - both in the context of our vacation as well as the season of the year.

Greece is a fitting chaser for our double-shot of blistering-hot Middle East desert. They have calm breezes, birdsongs, green grass, wide pedestrian-only boulevards, mixed salads, and mmm-azing olives and feta cheese. Had we visited Athens first, we may not have as fully appreciated the fresh cuisine, temperate climate, and the fact that we're not readily identifiable as foreigners by our skin and features alone. That said, we've designated this city and the next two (on Crete) our actual "Honeymoon" spots.

The evening we arrived from Cairo we spent on foot, visiting the cafe neighborhoods of Thisso and Plaka, bordering the ancient acropolis.

We dined at a traditional restaurant in Plaka and shared our first carafe of wine since leaving the USA (not including the one Rebecca and Sara split in Ha Long Bay). We were finally able to "unwind" in this more familiar, decadent country after our seven-week nomadic bustle through less-familiar cultures involving asceticism, national religious fervor, zen, or precarious authoritarian rule.

We're amidst a much-needed laundry errand - Plusimo is the Greek pronunciation of Washing. Use it well.

Luxor

2007-04-08T09:45:00.000-06:00

Luxor stems from the Arabian word for palaces for which the Arabian invaders mistook the plethora of Egyptian temples. The Greeks called it Thebes, but the proper ancient name was Waset.

All this and more we learned from our private tour guides at the Nile-side temples and Valley of the Kings.

In our first 24 hours in Luxor, we hired a car to visit the Temple of Luxor as well as the West Bank, a sprawling desert necropolis containing the Valley of Kings, Valley of Queens, and Valley of Nobles. These burial chambers were carved out well after the pyramids, and are much more descretely situated to thwart tomb robbers.

...In fact, when they opened Tutankhamon's tomb, they had to let the poisonous, stagnant air escape for a whole week before entering - and even after that, Howard Carter and fifty servants died of lungh problems. It sounds one step worse than a road trip with Trevor.

The tourist hassling here is pretty bad; you need to be parmed with patience, humor, and "la shu-kran" - which means "no, thank you" in Arabic.

---

A man siting on a ledge hops down to and begins following you as you walk by...

"You want felucca ride?"
"La, shu-kran."
"Is good price. You want to know how much?"
"La, shu-kran."
"Twenty pounds Egyptian. Good price!"
"La, shu-kran."
(His arms flail, his voice with some anger...)
"Why?! Is good price!"
(You quicken your pace, he stops walking.)
"You lucky man - sex lady! Woof-woof!"

---

Two-out-of-three times, the man will shout: How many camels for your wife?!?

So that's all good for a chuckle, but it's frustrating if you're amidst an intriguing conversation or romantinc Nile sunset stroll, since this occurs every five minutes as men offer taxis, carriage rides, cigarettes, and cold beverages.

Additionally, it's extremely hot here. We don't have the exact figures, but we know it's well over 100 F, and it's sometimes even hot enough to wilt our ambition and make us say "let's just go sit in the shade for a bit." We've each drained over three liters of bottled water per day, and we're still suffering from mild dehydration. It's almost as bad as a St. Louis Summer.

Our favorite Luxor sight is the Karnak Temple complex, the largest Egyptian religious monument, revised over 4000 years by the Egyptians, Macedonians, Greeks, and Coptic Christians (the latter was unfortunately quite destructive). Some of the temple ceiling is still supported by the forest of massive columns that dominated the temple interior, and portions of original paint still adorn the carvings and the blue-with-yellow-asterisk-stars ceiling.

One wall carving (at left) appears quite frequently on the temple's outer facade - the reigning king holding a dozen foreign prisoners by their long hair - with one hand, simultaneously - and beating them ferociously with a club. Oh, and the king is smiling, too. It must have served as an effective welcome mat to neighboring civilizations.

Having viewed all of our target sights we're going to walk the Luxor streets for the remainder of the day until tonight's "sleeper train" to Cairo, and tomorrow's flight to Athens, Greece.

Care to spend a few thousand on last-minute airfare and meet us there? We'd love to have you.

(This is where you say "La, Shu-kran.")

Float like an Egyptian

2007-04-06T09:53:00.000-06:00

The ancients mined granite from the southern province of Aswan and floated it northward on the Nile via "feluccas," small sailboats with massive, curved sails. We signed up to sail from Aswan to Luxor (ancient Thebes) up the Nile. The trip includes meals and two nights of sleeping under the starts on the Nile. We weren't sure how many others would accompany us on our trip, what we'd eat, or what sort of service to expect, given the inexpensive price.

We spent our pre-felucca morning in Aswan, visiting the Temple of Philae and the Aswan High Dam, the third largest dam in the world, behind Brazil and China. Egypt only uses the power generated by one of the two turbines - it exports the rest of its power (hope you're taking notes, Mr. Spottiswoode). That's a whole lot of dam electricity!

As it turns out, there were eight passengers on our felucca, ourselves included: three non-native Londoners, two Argentinians, and an Aussie pilot working in Chad. Yeah, these eclectic tour groups all start to sound like the beginning of a joke.

A felucca is more of a floating sofa than a sailboat - instead of benches or tables, there's just a massive mat and pillows, with a canopy to shield you from the 45 C (that's 123 F) degree sun. At times, however, the mat isn't quite massive enough, especially when you're sleeping eight adults. That's our boat at left.

We had a lot of Nile to cover, a deck of cards, and several cases of Egypt's own Sakkara lager. The next day slipped away amidst some Euchre, Kings, camel meat, falafel, and lots of pita bread.

Sorry, it looks like we lost you at camel meat. We passengers were faced with the decision of whether the crew should cook camel for the second (final) supper, and the unanymous decision was "uh, sure." We ate it stewed with rice in its own broth, and it tasted like mutton.

Sara's reaction: Eh, too gamey.
Scott's reaction: Scr-hump-tious!

Packed full with camel and Sakkara, we and the crew prepared a bonfire, broke out the drums, and cut loose to some rip-roaring Egyptian song-and-dance. Another felucca's crew joined in, and we had three generations of Egyptians singing their folk songs with enthusiastic Arabic arm-waves and robe-ruffling kicks. For certain, their performance was as much for their own entertainment as for ours, but it was nonetheless a delightful cultural exchange. Plus, we learned how to sing She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain in Arabic.

The next morning came a little too soon. We disembarked at Kom Ombo (once famous for its massive crocodiles) and explored the Temple of Subek, the Egyptian crocodile god. On the police convoy (the only way for tourists to drive intercity) northward to Luxor (Thebes), we stopped in Edfu to visit the incredibly well-preserved Temple of Horus.

Luxor awaits us now with its expansive desert and its "Valley of the Kings." There's a lot of negative tales of the hassling and frustrations of Luxor, but we'll grit our teeth and smile again, and get back at you with the news.

Sorry for the delay in posting stuff - we really appreciate that you all are keeping abreast with our travels. Congrats on the apartment, Anne & Steve - keep your eyes peeled for a Friedman pad!

Road Trip!

2007-04-06T09:38:00.000-06:00

A handful of Cairo's most impressive ancient sights lie a few kilometers outside the city's borders. We decided to hirs a van, blast some of our favorite tunes with the windows down, and pick up all of our friends for a wild Egyptian sightseeing time.

Well, not really - but we did have a van, an Egyptologist guide, and a driver. And it wasn't wild, but it was delightfully educational.

On our exursion, we laid waste to the ancient sites of Dashur, Memphis, Giza, and Saqqara - and by "laid waste," I mean we politely paid entry fees and asked lots of difficult questions.

All of the structures and statues we saw were dated 2750-2540 BC - among the impressive sights:

The first pyramid (60m tall) at Saqqara composed of six stacked "steps"
The "bent" pyramid (above, 105m tall) at Dashur, which still has some of its smooth casing. Its angle was altered from 54 degrees to 49 degrees mid-construction due to initial [mis]calculations.
The "great" pyramid (146m tall)
The sphinx, whose nose is missing due to either Napoleanic target practice or some malicous Turk
The best falafils we've had, for less than $0.25. Worth the airfare alone.
The world's oldest stone-brick building at Saqqara

We concluded our sightseeing with the evening "Sound and Light" show at Giza, a laser and projection show that explains the history and mystery of the pyramids and the sphinx. While it did bear some educational value, the projected face and pompous British accent of the sphinx (our narrator) cheapened the site's mystical ambiance. You can imagine.

We waste no daylight - we spent the night in a sleeper train to Aswan where our Nile felucca (sailboat) departs!

Not Enough Hours in an Egyptian Day...

2007-04-06T09:30:00.000-06:00

...So why waste daylight?

We left our hotel at 4:30 AM and headed for the camel stables. By 5:00 AM we were in Giza's desert, each on our own camel, with a little sixteen-year-old kid as our guide. Sixteen-year-olds are great guides because they let you control your own camel when it's your first camelback experience and you're clearly not qualified. So that's highly recommended. Oh, and gentlemen: wear a protective cup.

We watched the desert sunrise illuminate the Giza pyramids while our camels made gurgling and smacking sounds, which was in fact partial regurgitation followed by chewing said vomit. One of us found this repulsive - the other one of us captured it on digital media.

We made it back to our hotel just in time to begin our full-day itinerary.

Cairo

2007-04-06T09:15:00.000-06:00

This city moves quickly - and the best way to slow it down is with tea and sheesha (hookah).

Cairo is so happy to see us - to know our name, to know where we live, and to know how we like it here. No, it's not our eager smiles and adorable personalities - it's because we're obviously tourists.

Sure, Cairo wants our money, and it wouldn't mind having yours, too; however, if you walk the crowded sidewalks, less than half of the people asking your name actually want to sell you something - the rest just want to ask how you're enjoying their city, point you in the right direction, practice their English with a brief joke, and continue on their way.

Our hotel, the Hormoheb, is equally - if not overly - friendly. It's kinda like we're the protagonists of The Rocky Horror Picture Show walking into Dr. Frankfurter's castle. Kinda.

The hotel restaurant waiters strongly urge us to return on their shift and the front desk receptionists want descriptive accounts of how we're enjoying every amenity. We also received a brief but very enthusiastic tour of the hotel spa - a 1/3-full swimming pool, a fitness classroom (complete with toilet), and a Turkish bath (read: oily bathtub). The spa attendants insisted we return the next day to attend in a personalized, complementary, fitness class.

We spent the morning at the Egyptian Museum which, like the Louve, houses more artifacts (including King Tut's) than you'd care to see in a day. Our self-guided tour was cursory, but we saw a baker's dozen of mummified royalty, their skin oddly preserved and smeared with red ochre, their eyes selectively replaced with monochrome semi-precious stones and mother-of-pearl, like a doll.

The strangest phenomenon is that the majority of the artifacts, reliefs, jewelry, and paintings were never intended to be seen again by living human eyes - rather, it's all instrumental in enriching the recently deceased's eternal life. If their religion holds any water then we, the observers of the entombed artifacts, may spend post-mortem eternity with our hearts gnashed in the mouth of Ammut "The Devourer," a large and beastly goddess. And Ammut has large teeth.

Although the infrastructure can't support the burgeoning population, there's litter on every corner, and parts of Cairo have the Earth's highest population density, the city has its pride, and above all, its ebullient sense of humor.

...Of Bars and Bargains

2007-04-06T09:06:00.000-06:00

The next day was the day of several great battles, all fought nobly by Friedmans on one side and arabic shopowners on the other; all ended with smiles and handshakes, and each team probably covertly high-fived each other afterwards. What matters is that everybody thinks they won - on one hand, we paid a great deal less than expected on certified and authentic products, and concurrently, the shopowners made their profit, else they wouldn't have closed the deal.

Ahh, the lovely smell of commerce in the morning!

So we nabbed our hookah, we snatched our carpets, and we just may have found each other some birthday and first anniversary presents in the Gold Souq. We also consigned a shipping company to fly much of our luggage (mostly carpets and Kilimanjaro equipment) to the MSP airport, so now our two bags (and our backs) are breathing easily. For a short while, at least, we'll be traveling light and luxuriously.

So, time for a relaxing drink in Dubai, right? Wrong.

We've learned that Dubai is much more of a "smoke 'em if you got 'em" city than a "round of beers for my friends" city. People sit at "bars" and drink teas and fruit juices, while sucking down Marlboro Reds. The only place to get a bucket-o-suds is at a hotel bar or at the airport's duty free shops.

We hear Cairo has some distinctive local beers and wine, so until then, it's relaxing by the pool with a plastic bottle of the cleanest, quaffable, tap water we've seen in over a month.

Sold. Wrap it up - we'll take it.

A Dubai-ous Day of Commerce

2007-03-30T03:57:00.000-06:00

Dubai doesn't quite fit the profile of the cities we've visited thus far - it has a very modern infrastructure (read: drinkable tap water), its oldest standing structure was erected after 1800, it's very safe, and the main attractions are modern architecture and commerce rather than ancient culture and prehistory.

After disembarking, we traversed the "old town," an 1800's-1900's quadrant of Dubai that still clings to its Arabic culture. Old town is known woldwide for its inexpensive gold, silk Persian rugs, and hookah pipes. We quickly resolved to shop for all three.

We decided to use Thursday as our "see every product available in Dubai" day, Friday as our "lets think about what we want to purchase at the beach" day (most shops are closed for holy Firdays), and Saturday as our "hemmorhage money (UAE Dirhams) to the Arabs" day.

We spent the majority of Thursday refining our taste and expertise in Persian carpets. Here's an abridged lesson for you - actually, imagine we're explaining it to you in the middle of a crowded arabic parketplace with bright textiles and chickens on spit-roasts...

----

Us: So, you have to consider the carpet material - silk or silk substitute such as acryllic, wool, or some blend thereof. Silk is more expensive, but the color is sharper and it lends an interesting shine, making the colors shift subtly from different angles.

You: Ooh, let's go with silk.

(A man interrupts: "My friend, you want copy watch? Copy Rolex? Copy Omega?")

Us: Excuse us - thanks. Next, you have to consider whether you want your silk carpet hand-made or machine-made. Hand-made can be ten times more expensive, but wow - some of the richness and color gradients really can't be produced by a machine. The hand-made pieces really exemplifiy the Iranian attention to detail.

You: Well, I'd rather not expel somebody from my home for dirtying my floor covering, and I like to maintain a healthy blood pressure - so let's look at the machine-made pieces.

(Another man approaches and leans in: "Copy handbags? My friend, you want copy handbags?")

Us: Ahem. Very well, so now you just have to consider thread length and silk origin, which determines the texture. Then just consider size and design - and happy shopping!

----

Oh yeah, we forgot to mention - there's lots of people selling knock-off products.

Shopping for gold in the Gold Souq (gold market) was equally exhausting. There's a great deal of modestly-priced, generic-looking gold jewelry (and watches) available in the dozens (maybe hundreds) of accredited, camera-survaillanced shops; however, the more traditional Persian pieces were much more distinctive and interesting. Many were so ornate that they look like fake stage jewelry, so it's a cautious endeavor.

We wrapped up the day with an hour-long search for a restaurant - gold and thread everywhere, but not a crumb to eat! - and we settled for some delicious burgers and a relaxing hour at a hookah bar.

Today, at the Arabian Sea beach in Dubai, we're discussing what we saw and learned and asking ourselves the incessant consumerism question:

Do-buy or not do-buy?

Oh, man - that's too funny. Let's just leave it at that.

The Doc's First Patient

2007-03-30T03:43:00.000-06:00

Pssst - Sara wouldn't want me to tell you this because she thinks it's "dorky," but I think it's pretty cool, and I think you'll agree.

Allow me to set the scene...

March 28, 2007. Emirates Airlines flight EK0722, departing from Nairobi to Dubai. The craft has boarded and is about to commence liftoff. It's 23:46, so everybody's drifting off to sleep - including the Doc, in her sky-blue Target eyemask. I'm uncomfortable, because I can never figure out how to relax my neck while in an upright seated position.

...But as destiny would have it, danger brewed five rows ahead. A fellow passenger was ailing and was unfit to take to the skies this fateful night.

A flight attendant bellowed: "Is there a doctor or medical professional on board with their license handy?"

Nobody raised a solitary hand. A long pause. The Doc removed her sleepwear and misplaced it somewhere in that long moment.

She bellowed again: "Is there any doctor aboard with any identification at all?"

Still, no hands raised.

The Doc then calmly raised her hand, and the flight attendant approached. "Are you a registered nurse?" The attendant cocked her head.

I shot her a "you sexist!" glare, but the Doc politely corrected her, offered her passport as identification, and more fully qualified her medical expertise. The Doc rose to see the ailing passenger, and the craft hushed. Several tumbleweeds blew across the aisle (well, not really - but it'd have been fitting).

I sat patiently as she assessed the situation several rows ahead. Three visibly panicked flight attendants flanked her as she spoke to the ill passenger, nodding politely and docilely.

I covertly filmed the majority of this exchange with our digital camera, as I awaited the prognosis with the rest of the captive audience.

Due to HIPAA policy, I'm unable to disclose specific patient information, but the Doc suggested that the passenger leave the flight. Now, I applaud the Doc for her swift and righteous justice, but removing the passenger and respective luggage added another hour to our flight. The Doc returned to sleep quickly, but not before accepting a free Emirates Airlines pair of socks and a replacement sleeping mask.

Perhaps I'll write a limerick to honor the event - or maybe an epic poem - or maybe a rag-tag guitar tale in the style of Jim Croce or Arlo Guthrie. In any case, I can't sleep since I'm so excited!

Hooray for our not-yet-employed Doc!

Turfin' Safari

2007-03-28T05:55:00.000-06:00

We left Nairobi for a three-night camping safari through Kenya - it's a great lineup of trekking and watching large predators from a somewhat-armored, open-roofed, safari cruiser.

We're traveling with four other tourists - an Argentinian couple, a Brazilian airline pilot, and a friendly Australian girl - an adventurous and enthusiastic bunch.

The guide and staff are another animal altogether - our "guide" for the four-day excursion is "Winston." You know that feeling you get with some people - the "this guy is trying to screw me over big-time" feeling? Well, you'd get that feeling talking to Winston.

Some contextual information:
Most Eastern African excursions operate based on two payments - the advance, corporate payment, and the sizable cash-only local payment. The later is used for entry fees, foodstuffs, and other such on-the-spot expenses included in the itinerary.

Well, Winston is trying to skirt all said on-the-spot payments or discourage us from participating in several included activities. We [our band of tourists] are persistent in demanding our share. Cough it up, Winston! And so, our trip:

Hell's Gate National Park

Our first day is Hell's Gate - named for its steaming hot springs and tortuous gorges.

The terrain above the gorge is a boxed red-rock canyon with herds of zebras, warthogs, and gazelles running along the dirt roads. We spent the majority of the ride with our torsos through the sunroofs, just as everybody dreams of doing in their prom limousines.

The Hell's Gate gorge took an hour to traverse - canyoning down rocky streams, shuffling through obsidian gravel, and using the sandstone ravine walls as fingerholds for climbing. We wore flip-flops (Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!) but we made it down to the boiling springs without injury or snakebite (black mambas are indigenous to the area).

Winston apologized for some of the confusion over our dinner campfire. We're still skeptical.

Masai Mara - Northern Serengeti

We drove several hours of plains to the Masai Mara - the ride there was scattered with gazelles, zebras, and gnus, so by the time we arrived we were already a bit jaded. We were ready to see some big game and some carnivores.

The reserve is so expansive - thousands of acres, and that doesn't even include the Tanzanian side. Here's a recap of some of the more interesting sightings:

A family of giraffes running across the plains

A herd of twenty elephants walking single-file through a valley

A male and female lion sleeping (in the "spooning" position)

Several hippos (actually the deadliest animal in Africa, by the numbers) bathing and singing in a pond

A leopard high in a tree with the remains of a most unfortunate gazelle

A massive eagle dive-bombing and making quick prey of a smaller bird

All-in-all, a very productive day of observation. We'd rather see it all on our feet (rather than on wheels), but we'd quickly become prey ourselves and it's hard to cover enough ground - after the next full day of safari, we'd be ready to get back on our legs.

Masai Village

We left camp early and headed to a Masai tribe village for a quick glance at their ceremonial dancing, traditional architecture, and cultural traditions.

We witnessed two dances - male and female - both of which entailed call-and-answer singing, and both of which are performed at circumcisions (yes, both male and female circumcision). The most impressive feat was the standing vertical jumps the males used in their dance.

The village huts are constructed from sticks, straw, and cow manure - they're expected to stand for about five years until the next tribal migration. We'll probably build a similar establishment in the middle of Lincoln Park in Chicago to inhabit during the residency/Ph. D. years.

Trevor, can we rel on your civil engineering signature to certify its structural soundness? (You'll have to check the books for the cow manure load-bearing coefficients.)

Lake Nakuru National Park

We spent the afternoon game-watching at Lake Nakuru, a famous living and breeding grounds for the white rhinoceros. We saw our fill of rhinos, but even more impressive were the pink flamingos on the lake itself. On the horizon, between the dark lake and the green hills is a thick band of solid pink - more pink than even Lisa Baldwin can comprehend.

We also saw our fill of baboons - so many that they're considered menaces at the lakefront. So, as far as baboons go, we're done for now. If you have some baboons waiting for us in the states, sell 'em back. We're through with the 'boons for now, but we deeply appreciate the gesture.

Safari Afterthoughts

We're happy that we went on safari and we're delighted with the multitude and density of wildlife we saw. However, we now know that safaris are passive activities - sunroof gazing, picture-taking, and (if you're lucky enough to get an enthusiastic, informed guide) listening to a wildlife lesson or two. There's another brand of safari out there - the trekking safari - where it's just you and a rifle-bearing guide stomping through the wild. It's more expensive, but it may have suited us better.

As the saying goes, "a satisfied customer tells one person, a dissatisfied customer tells four" - so readers (at least four of you) take note:

Do not use Nomad Tours (the company based in South Africa) for East African excursions. The itineraries are unrealistic, the guides are dishonest and unprofessional, and they do a poor job of allocating our payment fees. Other firms, such as Gap Adventures, provide better service for a similar fee. Hope this appears in search results so other people can be happier on their excursions.

So, having climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro and seen the predators of the Northern Serengeti, we believe (as per Steve's question) that we now understand Toto's 80's-riffic single entitled "Africa". We'd love to share our understanding, but you really have to come here and see it for yourself.

Until then, (to make an acute cinema allusion) you can listen to Toto, but you can't hear Toto. Let's leave it at that, Steve.

Also, happy belated birthdays to Kristin and Jenny!

We leave for Dubai tonight - we'll catch up with you all then, and we hope to have more frequent computer access.

Kilimanjaro

2007-03-23T10:24:00.000-06:00

(Don't skip to the end - to keep the suspense and stuff!)

Nairobi, Kenya

Nairobi is the largest city in Kenya, if not the largest city in Eastern Africa. All tourist literature we've read suggest that it's not a premier tourist destination; and the USA government websites we've visited give it a 5/5 for crime... and 5 is bad. he only other 5 we could find is Baghdad. In the words of "Airplane": it's worse than Detroit.

Our hotel suggests not leaving the premises with jewelry or valuables, and strongly recommends to "take special care" between 18:00 an 06:00.

So why are we here? Good question. Our Kilimanjaro trek an safari both depart from this city, from the very hotel we're patronizing. So... room service and card games it is!

Moshi, Tanzania

After several hours on buses (listening to some friends' mixes, TV on the Radio, and Steven Wright stand-up) we crossed the Tanzanian border and arrived in the town of Moshi, via Arusha. The trip would have been faster, but our bus stopped several times for cattle stampedes crossing the dirt road, and for border patrol passport checks.

We spent the night at a hotel near the base of Kilimanjaro, where we met our guide, received our briefing, and rented additional equipment (sleeping bags, hiking poles).

At the loge, we made two friends: Czar, an RN from Southern California, and Charlie, an accountant from Canada. Czar signed up for a different Kilimanjaro route (his afforded him an extra day) and Charlie will climb with us an share our guide.

Our guide is "Johnnie" - a young man from a Mozambique tribe with a calm countenance and a winning smile. We'll set off in the morning; our group consists of three tourists and several attendants (guide, cook, and porters to carry the food and some of our spare clothing).

Ascent Day 1: to Mandara (2750m alt.)

Today we hiked about five hours uphill, mostly through rainforest terrain on a clay path - the weather permitted us to wear shorts and t-shirts.

The porters and cook set off ahead of us, carrying most of the supplies in tarps balanced on their heads.

We paused or jaunt only for carb-heavy snack breaks and to learn about indigenous flowers.

Oh yes. We also paused to gaze at the ants. Big ants. Big ants crawling into our socks, leaving itching welts on our ankles. Each of us sustained tens of bites on both feet; however, walking subtly scratched our bites, which yielded a satisfying motivation to climb faster.

Also present on the hike was the Tanzanian flag bandanna we purchased at the mountain base. the wearer is granted the wisdom of Tanzania's greatest national park. Plus, it makes you look like Rambo - or perhaps, "Tanzaniambo."

Ascent Day 2: to Horombo (3750m alt.)

Godliza, our cook, boiled seven liters of water for the two of us to carry on our backs for the day's hike - Johnnie suggests that we drink the entire quantity within the day to prevent dehydration.

Today we wore rain pants and fleeces; the weather looked ominous initially, then the clouds broke an we were left with a chilly-yet-sunny day... and third-degree sunburn.

By 10:00 we left rainforest terrain an entered "Moorland" altitude - short, coarse, bushes with "hot poker" flowers and weedy grass. No more monkeys, unfortunately - just lizards and huge birds that threatened to snatch our lunch. Nobody messes with lunch.

We hiked 200m altitude past our sleeping point before returning for dinner - overshooting your altitude is just what the doctor ordered for healthy acclimation. Climb high, sleep low, yo.

Ascent Day 3: to Kibo (4703m alt)

We slept well - better than we could have asked. Yet, that didn't make the day any less tasking.

We donned our fleece pants, long underwear tops, winter hats, ski mittens, and balaclavas (the facial windguard, not the tasty Mediterranean dessert). We didn't want to add windburn to our growing list of ailments.

By nine this morning, the Moorlands disappeared and we trekked across an expansive alpine desert. For the most part, no foliage can survive here, and the fauna disappeared as well. The wind tears across the dusty ground - and it's not warm.

The itinerary for the rest of our climb is daunting, at best. Here's what's on the platter:

4:30PM: Dinner
5:00PM: Sleep for the "night"
11:30PM: Wake up, eat "breakfast," and begin the hike to the summit, so we get there and back before the sun melts the frozen gravel an the path gets slippery.
3:00PM (next day): Arrive at our encampment downhill for the night.

That's right - 15 consecutive hours of altitude-defying, joint-burning, lung-gurgling, hiking.

Stretch out on a couch for us.

Day 4: Catching the Night Train to Uhuru (5895m alt.)

"Ridin' the night train - never coming doooooown!"

- Guns 'N Roses, Appetite for Destruction - "Night Train"

...So that's similar to our nighttime summit - except that "going down" is on the itinerary. Also dissimilar, GNR uses a train as a metaphor for their hard-living, "loaded" lifestyle - and we're climbing an African mountain.

Anyway, note that yesterday we expected to sleep from 5-11:3PM. Nay. One million times nay. Not a wink of sleep - mainly due to other tourists in our miniature barracks speaking inconsiderate German, Swahili, and French (the anxiety probably had something to do with it as well).

O' pity us, fair reader! Fifteen hours of subzero summit-hiking on no sleep!

Okay, enough with the excuses - here's now it went down:

11:40 PM: Begin tedious zig-zag "switchback" hike up Kibo volcano with headlamps, three layers of pants, three layers of jackets, hats, balaclavas, ski mittens, an two layers of heavy-duty socks.
11:50 PM: "Hey, this isn't so bad"
1:00 AM: "Why am I traversing the loose gravel of this desolate lunar landscape in the dark, foot after numb foot? I paid for this? I'm a moron."
4:40 AM: Arrive at "Gillman's Point" (5861m alt.), where many people end their climb. It's situated on the rim of the volcano, so it's a great place to do a high-five an start your trek back down. However, if you're more daring (or perhaps, more "dangling") you can continue to Uhuru Peak, the topmost point on Kilimanjaro and all of Africa - "Africa's Ceiling."
5:00 AM: Depart westward for Uhuru, treading through the snow on the rim of the volcano's crater - this is all before sunrise, so only the snow is visible.
6:00 AM: Altitude sickness (cerebral edema) further closes its icy grasp. Begin frequent anti-nausea breathing breaks.
6:20 AM: The three of us made it! We pose by the official Uhuru Peak sign for a quick snapshot. Excited by the fulfillment of our longtime goal, we sigh relief and start back Eastward.
6:30 AM: Sunrise. We're able to discern our surroundings, and are imbued with newfound energy. We run through the icy slopes of the volcanic rim and are captured by the expansiveness of the glaciers on the rim and crater of the volcano, and by the landscape of clouds below. We repeatedly risk frostbiting our fingers by snapping photos of the scenery. Our guide suggests climbing down before the sun melts the icy rim into a hazardous terrain.
7:00 AM: Look down at the newly-lit, steep, zig-zag path we traversed in darkness for five hours up the volcano. Cue ominous music.
7:10 AM: Learn "shortcut" technique of surfing down the gravel in our boots. Much more fun, and much faster.
8:00 AM: Arrive back at Kibo encampment. Brief meal and relaxation.
10:00 AM-4:00 PM: Trek down to our final encampment. Soak our feet, hallucinate from exhaustion and sleep deprivation. Good times.

Hopefully, a good night's sleep will cure nausea, headache, delirium, third-degree sunburn, and fire-ant welts. Well, we can hope.

Kilimanjaro Afterthoughts

Time well-spent. And not just the mountainside experience - the training, too (thanks for letting us use your skyrise, Jen).

It was great to have Charlie with us on our trek. He resolved early-on to avoid decisions and just concentrate on "putting one foot in front of the other" and enjoying the scenery. "Resolute indecisiveness" would be the most fitting oxymoron. He also maintained the most reasonable and constant pace, which abides by the Swahili saying "pole pole" (pronounced "polay-polay"), for "slow-slow". Charlie, if you're reading this, it was great having you mountainside.

We're currently at our Moshi, Tanzania hotel - at the pool sampling some local lagers. Our feet have nowhere else to take us right now, which is nice - because we can ask of them no more favors.

Interlude

2007-03-16T10:50:00.000-06:00

We're currently stealing high-speed Internet in a first-class lounge (and we're flying economy - sticking it to the man).

Just wanted to say "Thanks" to everybody who's reading and leaving comments - it's fun and motivating to see that people are tuning in.

Gotta go - they have free food here, too!

Match.

2007-03-16T01:31:00.000-06:00

Match! Match, match, match.

For those of you who aren't acquainted with the medical residency match process (and how could you be, if you've hung out with us for any length of time?), all medical students learn where they'll be living for the next 3-4 years on March 15 at a midday envelope-opening ceremony.

We and the Axners tried to recreate a similarly formal atmosphere by wearing clean(er) clothes and underwear. AS we were twelve hours ahead, this meant recreating the event around midnight.

Our official match evening commenced with a late dinner, a trip to the Haagen-Dazs cafe, and hopping three Thai pubs.

On our way to the third pub (around 11 PM) we received the call from Minnesota - one whole hour before we expected it!

[Drum roll...]
Northwestern University in Chicago, Illinois!
[Drum hit]

Throw the confetti - the future has been spoken, and it is good! We spent the next two hours celebrating and, well, breathing.

If you're looking for us this Summer, we'll be in Chicago (Sara: medical residency program at Northwestern / Scott: computer science PhD and research at Northwestern). Anybody on the North Side want two clean houseguests for the next four years?

After completing our international "Midnight Match," we believe our system to be superior than that put on by American medical schools. Our system may be more perfect - informal, colorful, celebratory, and with the optional assistance of dirt-cheap alcohol. (Of course, we have no basis for comparison.)

We have some gentle planning and sighs of relief ahead of us - we'll have plenty of time for the former (probably not the latter) on our next endeavor... A six-day climb to the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro! (dum, dum, dum!)

We leave for Nairobi today - we'll try to be in touch before we start our ascent.

To all of our Minnesota med-friends: congratulations on your excellent matches. We wish we could be there with you, as long as we could return here without any time elapsing. Due to the physical implausibility of this, we send you an electronic high-five.

[Smack]

Hot damn.

The Northern Thai Trek

2007-03-16T01:09:00.000-06:00

We'd have been fools not to partake in Northern Thailand's top visitor attraction: trekking. We signed up for a private four-person, three-day two-night trek with the Axners and a designated guide.

Pan, our gentle, all-knowing Shirpa (playable by a young Pete Postlethwaite) picked us up from our hotel and drove us to the elephant training grounds (read: elephant school). They begin education at age six, reach their peak education at age eighteen, and retire to the tropical woodlands at age sixty-five - much like us humans. They have an abundance of free roaming space and live richer lives than many humans (so don't feel bad when you see the video we captured of the elephants doing their little dance). We rode on elephant-back for an hour through varying terrain, then we began our trek.

The first day was a three-hour uphill trek to a small village where we stayed the night in a "farang" (white foreigner) cabin. Pan cooked us a feast of soup, chili paste, and stir-fry, and we crashed after several hands of rummy.

1:00 AM: Cock-a-doodle-doooooo! Cock-a-doo! ...a chorus of roosters perform a medley of varying lyrics, intonations, and gusto. Interesting to witness.
1:05 AM: We lose interest.
1:30 AM: Ahh, silence. Sleep at last.
1:50 AM: Chorus begins next verse. Repeat every twenty minutes until 7:00 AM.
7:30 AM: Breakfast, discuss beheading the village roosters.

The next day held a seven-hour trek, mostly uphill, through varying terrain - woodlands (reminiscent of Northern Minnesota), rainforest with parasitic strangle-vines and orchids, meadows of green tea bushes, and a sprawling bamboo forest. Wild banana trees were scattered throughout - if you opt to peel and eat one of their fruits, mind the seeds). Pan mentioned the possibility of sampling some authentic Thai moonshine (fermented from corn) at the destination village.

By 4 PM we arrived at our next accommodation, Baan Pha Daeng - a tiny Lahu village. We slept and ate in a charming bamboo and thatch hut on stilts with a private porch, adjacent to similar cabins. If you view it from the front, you can see a half-obstructed view of the landscape behind it; though the bamboo paneling represents privacy, frosted bathroom glass would suppress more sights and sounds.

We ate another of Pan's tasty Thai candlelight suppers, and he made good on the moonshine - it was warming, reminiscent of sake, and could probably fuel a small go-cart.

We turned in for bed two hours after sunset and lied on our backs on the floor of the bamboo hut, under our mosquito nets. At the risk of sounding pedantic and overly-sentimental, this is our account:

We could hear through the bamboo panels to the adjacent huts, and we could share in their evening episodes with our eyes closed: a teenage mother frustrated because her crying infant wouldn't feed, a nylon-stringed classical guitar strumming basic, open chords, a woman pouring used dishwater from her stilted porch onto a family of chicks, Pan speaking quiet Thai with a Lahu village elder.

The village finally fell silent for the night, the stray and wild dogs of Northern Thailand held a brief forum of howls, and then all that remained was the ring of the cicadas, phasing in and out of unison.

Hours later, the dogs and roosters reminded us that they, in fact, owned the morning, and we were merely members of their captive audience.

In recounting our other Southeast Asia experiences and sharing in Baan Pha Daeng's humanity, we had acquired a colorful, albeit rudimentary, understanding of life and culture in this corner of the world.

Though we suffered a nigh-sleepless night with a morning hike ahead of us, we were already comforted by the memories we'd created on this leg of our trip, and we regretted nothing.

We ended our trek yawning under the sun on a bamboo raft.

Eat some snow for us.

Chiang Mai, Thai

2007-03-16T01:02:00.000-06:00

Chiang Mai is in Northern Thailand, close to the Burmese border. It attracts tourists for two reasons: authentic cuisine and rustic excursions. We've partaken in both.

We attended a culinary class at the Chiang Mai Thai Cookery School, the first Thai cooking school established in Chiang Mai. Historically, we cooked "Thai" stir-fry a few times a week in our household, mostly from macro-ingredients. Having attended the class, we're now armed with an arsenal of curry-paste cunning and culinary techniques. Perhaps you, fair reader, shall someday witness the fruits of our classwork.

Because the class spanned eight hours and seven dishes, we were stuffed to the brim with our own concoctions. We were almost too full to eat the last dish, but it was sticky rice pudding with cane sugar and coconut milk - so clearly, we made room and went back for seconds.

The Night Bazaar (open nightly) and Sunday Night Market with stretches through the old city, offered some good souvenir opportunities and great street food (still diarrhea free, by the way). There we encountered the "Rock N Roll Power Bracelet" (at left) which we had to purchase. It shall serve us well for the remainder of our travels.

Laos: Deux

2007-03-12T04:16:00.000-06:00

We drifted the Mekong with the Axners and ducked into several caves that were packed solid with Buddha figurines - gifts from worshipers. Most of the figures were "prayer for rain" (Buddha gesturing downward) and "stop arguing" (Buddha standing with hands out, in a double "talk-to-the-hand" gesture) poses, indicative of drought and war/genocide at the time of past worship.

While the Axners visited the waterfall (Kuangsi Falls [at left] - we visited them on our hillside trek) that afternoon, we walked a few miles of Mekong shoreline. We brought the iPod (along with our quintessential headphone splitter, so we could share the same aural experience). We listened to some experimental rock - a selection from Tortoise's TNT, some Four Tet, and a little Boards of Canada.

The instrumental, experimental tracks melded well with the colorful markets and expansive Mekong riverbed; as much as we wanted to hear Tom Waits' new box-set "Orphans...," his raspy narratives about hard living just don't cut it on this continent.

We'll catch up with you when we're back across the pond, Tom.

We ended the night with card games on the balcony over several 640ML bottles of Beer Lao, so as not to break the national curfew. We've been in bed at 10PM every night - it probably has something to do with the heat, the walking, and the rich dinner curries.

And now, without further ado - Unexpected Transportation Headache #1:

Our Thai Airways tickets from Laos to Chiang Mai, Thailand indicated a 11AM departure, so imagine our displeasure when we arrived at the LPQ airport at 10AM to find that the departure had been changed to 6:10PM. Instead of shaking our fists at the system (or at ourselves for not checking the departure schedule the night before), the four of us got a free ride back to town and treated ourselves to a classy lunch and traditional Khmu massages -60 minutes for $3.00!

You could certainly make the case that our massage frequency is getting out-of-hand, but we consider participating in massage as an authentic cultural experience, or something like that... but most importantly, the Axners had more massages than us in Laos!

The food here, aside from being dirt cheap, is delicious, and should be eaten with your bare hands with the aid of highland sticky rice (like Indian "naan"). The local beer (Beer Lao) has surpassed the other local lagers we've drank across Southeast Asia - most other Asian lagers have been under-hopped and poorly bottle-conditioned.

Luang Prabang

2007-03-10T02:22:00.000-06:00

We found it. The town that most accurately and most peacefully speaks "Southeast Asia" to us is Luang Prabang, Laos. The town is at the juncture of the Mekong and Nam Chan rivers, and is considered the best-preserved town in the four-country region.

Its unfortunate 20th-century history affords it some intrigue as well; from '64-'73, the USA dropped over 2 million tons of bombs on the country, since the Ho Chi Minh trail (Northern Vietnam supply route) ran through Laos - making it the most heavily-bombed country per capita in the history of warfare.

Historically, the USA has had a negative or skewed impression of Laos - amidst the war in Vietnam, Secretary of State Dean Rusk stated that the country is merely "the wart on the hog of Vietnam." Today, it's not often considered as a tourist destination, and it's rarely worthy of mention in the news or in classrooms.

Well, we love it here. We've hiked to neighboring Khmu and Hmong hilltribes and waterfalls, we've roamed the markets, and we've visited a handful of temples, two of which were in caves.

We expected to hike through woods or forests on our excursion, but we found ourselves in the middle of a rainformest - tortuous vines, giant figs, banana trees, and bugs - lots of bugs. We didn't notice them until we sat down at a stream for lunch. Sara sustained some small bites on her sternum, but we're not medically concerned.

The hilltribe villagers were very polite - their children kept stalking us with caution, then when we smiled and waved, they'd laugh and disperse behind wells and baskets only to stalk again when we turned our backs. We were pleased with our guide's policy with the tribal visits: pay a small "tribute" to the official preservation fund for the tribes, but do not give or accept anything while in the village - this could encourage begging in the children (see: Cambodia).

The sky and sunsets here area bit hazy - we're told it's because of the dry season; farmers in the hilltribes burn their rice fields and there's no rain to bring the hazy particles back to the ground. However, it yields a campfire smell along the small villages - kinda nostalgic.

Hanoi Proper, Vietnam

2007-03-10T02:06:00.000-06:00

...and still diarrhea-free!

This city has a lot of rules, and a lot of signs. Big, red, Vietnamese signs. In most cases, the signs instruct you not to proceed forward. Chances are, if you're close enough to read the signs, you're already dong something wrong.

The multitude of guardsmen with automatic rifles and banana clips serve as a friendly reminder that there are repercussions for legal infractions.

The best-guarded national treasure is the mausoleum of Ho Chi Minh, or as the children of Hanoi address him, "Uncle Ho". His body is embalmed and openly displayed in glass within his mausoleum. He looked peaceful - as we walked along the velvet ropes surrounding his glass casket, he seemed to move his hand!

Well, actually, this was only due to accidental flaws in the thickness of the glass, changing the index of refraction. Guess you had to be there. No pictures allowed; x-ray scanners, metal detectors, and armed guardsmen yelling at you to keep your hands in plain sight made it nigh impossible to get a candid snapshot of Uncle Ho.

We also attended a traditional Vietnamese water-puppet-show. Yeah, we paid to watch an aquatic puppetry performance - you got a problem with that? What a gas. The live music to which the puppets danced was well-composed and performed, and the puppets were maneuvered in whimsical, munchkin-like gestures (they even included some simple pyrotechnics) that had us laughing the majority of the performance. The rest of the audience chuckled too, so we weren't blatantly mocking their traditional culture.

On our last Vietnamese morning, we dined at a joint that served Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup, a popular winter dish in our household), which completed our Vietnamese cuisine experience, in our opinion.

Now we jet off to Laos with the Axners in a propeller jet - no napping here.

'Nam

2007-03-10T01:47:00.000-06:00

Our guide, Mr. Tinh ("Ting") met us at the Hanoi airport to expedite our visa service. The fifteen minutes we spent separated from our passports seemed an eternity, but we really appreciated having a native to help us through the immigration bureaucracy, for a change.

We ran into two bums in our hotel that looked and smelled a lot like the Axners from Minneapolis, so we agreed to travel with them for the next twelve nights. We walked through the "Old Quarter," a district full of native markets, motor scooters, and colorful refuse in the gutters.

The next morning, we drove three hours with Tinh through rice fields to Ha Long Bay, stopping at an embroidery factory to see the craft in action. Of course, we walked out with some lovely examples of the artwork, too.

Ha Long Ba looks like some "Lost World," with densely-forested peaks jutting out of the saltwater into the foggy, cool, air.

We're spending three days on a "junk boat" - it can house twelve passengers, but for three days, it's just the four of us and five attendants (three cooks, a navigator, and an English-speaking guide).

Each meal is several courses of rich, fried, seafood, artfully-presented cucumbers, and some of the freshest rice we've ever had. Thus far, we've kayaked to a floating school and to a quiet bay, and we've crawled through two seaside caves. In these mountainous islands, they predict that there are over 140 undiscovered caverns.

The coffee is not to be missed - rich and almost chocolaty, with dollops of condensed milk lumped at the bottom of the mug. Stir vigorously and enjoy the tastiest eye-opener in Southeast Asia.

The weather for the entirety of our cruise has been a bit overcast, but it only adds to the mystical ambiance of the Ha Long region.

Wrapping up in Cambodia

2007-03-10T01:44:00.000-06:00

We'll miss Siem Reap.

We spent our last day sampling Cambodian massage and beer - both are a bit rougher around the edges than their Thai counterparts.

The Cambodian (Khmer) traditional massages were only $6/hour, but ended with a "full-nelson" hold, and getting pulled back with our spines against an authentic Cambodian knee. Yee-ouch.

Angkor

2007-03-04T01:22:00.000-06:00

We left Siem Reap early in the morning; we hired a private driver for the whole day (only $25) to tow us northward to Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, and the surrounding temples of Preah Khan, Ta Prohm, and Phnom Bakheng.

Wow. We'd do the sites little justince with a wordy, qualitative description. So take a look at a few of the photos we've included.

The majority of the stone is sandstone, which allows for intricate detail in the bas reliefs that adorn the temple walls. The region started as Hindu temples, but the Buddhists came to own it and built atop the existing walls with new imagery. We really struggled to see everything in a day - even now, it's the largest collection of religious structures in the world (it's also nominated as a New Wonder of the World).

The entire Angkor region (including the temples we traversed) was rigged with landmines in the last few decades. When you ask a Cambodian if the temple grounds are mine-free, they nod and smile with gritted teeth - "Yes, is safe."

Nevertheless, as you stand at one temple and gaze at another, you start to walk towards it, and you find yourself about to cut through a grassy, rocky, terrain - off the dirt path. As convincing as the toothy smiles and Cambodian assurance may be, think twice. Stay on the path.

We stayed in Northern Angkor until sunset (we watched it from atop Phnom Bakheng).

If you find yourself here in Southeast Asia (and hopefully you didn't wind up here by mistake or against your will), you need to visit Angkor. We'll even pay for your admission ticket.

We're due for a night of good sleep.

P.S. - Pay for your own admission ticket, cheapskate.

Siem Reap

2007-03-04T01:06:00.000-06:00

Welcome to Cambodia. Please adhere to the same rules as Thailand, but we have another rule:

No public displays of affection; not even hand-holding.

Showing affection is condiered vulgar in public, and should only be exercised privately. We weren't aware how natural it is for us to hold hands while walking, and we spent the day with one person reaching for the hand, and the other swatting it away. Nobody gave us any dirty looks.

Siem Reap is fantastic. We've not encountered any of the duplicity we found in the Bangkok urbanites, the weather is outstanding (85 F) and the town is situated on either side of the quite, muddy, Siem Reap river (it's more of a stream). Our hotel is right on the shore.

Some other interesting episodes here on the first day:

A man driving a motorbike with four (four!) pigs tethered belly-up to the back of the bike. The pigs were still scurrying.
A shopowner in the market tells her un-diabered toddler son to to pee. He stands at the threshold, facing out of the shop door, and urinates onto the dusty public sidewalk. A man walks by, watching, and treads directly through the resulting puddle.
Adolescents bathe in public, in the stagnant, muddy, brown, Siem Reap river.
We helped the boy at the reception desk with his resume cover letter; he was applying for a reception position at another Siem Reap hotel.

We ended the night with a dinner performance and a few local Angkor (American Standard Lager-style) beers. $.50 apiece. Jackpot!

Sunburnt in Bangkok

2007-03-04T00:45:00.000-06:00

Welcome to our home country of Thailand. We have a few simple rules we'd like you to follow during your stay:

Don't speak poorly of the president or the ruling party. Don't mock the imagery of him that we've hung on every lamppost - if it helps, just avoid looking at the lampposts altogether.
Don't point the soles of your feet at people, or at images of the Buddha.
Bow out of respect with your hands in prayer at your neck. Bow win entering and leaving. On second thought, just keep bowing - especially when you're not sure whether or not to bow.

We followed these rules in an effort to appear respectful, and we think it worked quite well for us.

Bangkok is a zoo. To expand this metaphor: zoos are smelly, crowded, somewhat flashy, and of course, packed with more sights than you can see in a single day. Zoos also have cheap unnecessarily expensive food, and zoos have people leaning against lampposts lying to you that an exhibit "doesn't open until 2 PM" and offering to drive you somehwere else in a three-wheeled open-air taxi and charge you a handful of dough for his services. Well, zoos don't really have that last part, but Bangkok sure does. Even if we hadn't read about that scam beforehand, we'd have known better.

The grand palace and "wats" (temples) we visitedin Bangkok were gold-tiled and quite garish. Inside the Wat Phra Kaeo (the holiest Thai temple) sits the Emerald Buddha. Well, it's technically Jade, but the monk who unearthed it mistook it for a more precious stone - thus, the moniker. They change the Buddha's clothes thrice a year to comply with the seasons. It was still dressed for the wet season, so the statue wore a golden gown. I think it was inconsiderate of them not to throw in a wee little golden umbrella. I suppose it's hard to pray to a dude holding an umbrella, though. O' the plight of the Buddha!

The hilight of our morning was our authentic Thai herbal massages - an hour of pressure-point full-body massage with some scattered rub-downs with hot, menthol-soaked rags. Ours for only $16 apiece!

We had some beers with an Australian chiropractor and another American traveler. Chiang Mai and its neighboring village "Pie" (sp?) in Northern Thailand came very highly reocommended. We may have to alter our itinerary accordingly once we return to Thailand in two weeks.

We spent an hour at an off-the-map temple/graveyard, where a man sold us a plate of banana segments and two long sticks ($.10 total) and we fed dozens of turtles in the temple's ponds! We did this until our bananas ran out; it was more fun than we'd like to admit.

After walking the markets and climbing the Golden Mount to get a high-altitude view of the sprawling city. We didn't appreciate the city any further, but it did satisfy our innate urge to climb things. We actually discovered that we had these innate urges as we made the climb. The delights of self-discovery! Ahem.

We hit the hay early that night after a Bangkok canal ride and a dirt-cheap five-course Thai dinner. Let's go to Cambodia.

So-Long, Japan

2007-03-04T00:43:00.000-06:00

We spent the last morning in Japan visiting the Ueno Zoo (oldest existing Japanese zoo) and hitting the Tokyo districts we loved best - the sushi market and Asakusa. We decided to do it all by foot - a morning cross-town jaunt across Tokyo.

Our flight to Bangkok featured "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" - a splendid movie date over our boxed curried chicken and complementary Bailey's Irish Creme. Way-to-go, United!

Ahhh, Fuji-San!

2007-02-27T16:58:00.000-06:00

Our [Fodors] Japan book has been extrordinarily helpful in its maps, recommended walks, and "not-to-miss" sites. Until yesterday, that is.

We spent our last full day in Tokyo on a day-trip to the Fuji National Park - a region called Hakone. According to the Japanese, the reflection of Mt. Fuji ("Fuji-San") in Lake Ashi is the most beautiful scene in all the world, owing to its symmetry and its grandeur.

Our day was just a conglomerate of transportation, which can be a nightmare for people like us that love walking and hiking. Between the train ride from Tokyo, the tram up to the scenic cablecar, the cablecar to a scenic ropeway, the ropeway down to the scenic boat tour, and the boat tour across Lake Ashi, we hemorrhaged out $80 between us (which is a lot by our standards), and saw Fuji creep over the horizon a mere handful of times.

The one thing that did substantiate our trip was the many Japanese passengers (many of them elderly) that accompanied us on the journey. Each time Fuji fell into view, we heard gasps of excitement and adoration: Ahhhhh! Fuji-San!

It was as if they weren't sure if it would still be present once they passed the tree that obscured their view.

On the ride back, we kinda shrugged at each other, but our fellow Japanese passengers were still reeling from the excitement. We napped on the train home and saw several more market neighborhoods once we returned to Tokyo proper.

Shelling out $80 must be a necessary evil to circumvent the regret of skipping one of Japan's most adored natural treasures - but we got a better Fuji view on the train ride from Kyoto to Tokyo.

And now, we spend the better part of the day in Tokyo, then head to Thailand.

Without further ado, miscellaneous pictures from Hakone and the rest of our Japanese journey. We'll write soon.

Nara

2007-02-26T02:47:00.000-06:00

We spent the day in Nara, Japan - the capitol city of Japan before Kyoto and Tokyo. Aside from the constant barrage of Japanese public announcements and suspiciously-brainwashy children's songs blaring over lamppost loudspeakers, Nara was charming.

The premier destination in Nara is the Todaiji temple, the largest wooden structure in the world. It houses a 55-foot bronze buddha, which was so expensive to build that it crippled the economy and led to a peasant revolt. Goes to show that you gotta pay for the food-ha before you splurge on the buddha! (tap, tap, tap) Hello? Is this thing on?

Whilst in Nara, we ate something called Yakisoba (we're not quite sure what this is) which was cooked right at our table. We couldn't recognize it by taste, smell, or appearance, but it was tasty with sake.

We've also learned a bit about the hipster scene by observing the urban youth. Either the fashion is twenty years behind or five years ahead (and sometimes, what's the difference?). In case it's the former, here's what you can expect - primarily compiled by Sara, the Friedman fashion consultant:

Paula Abdul/Cindy Lauper hair (both genders).
Elvis sunglasses.
Schoolgirl uniforms and pigtails for young adults.
Short skirts (or multiples) with high boots or high socks.
Cowboy boots or converse all-stars.
Nihilistic English sayings on t-shirts (pictured at right).
For the senior citizen ladies, hair colored like bland snow-cones - white with some scattered hints of blue and pink.

Back to Tokyo for two nights. Eat a burrito for us.

Shrines and Sake Shelves

2007-02-26T02:29:00.000-06:00

We've covered a lot of ground in the past few days.

We saw every temple Eastern Kyoto had to offer, one of which (Kiyomizudera) is nominated to be a "New Wonder of the World" - apparently, you can cast your own vote at http://www.n7w.com. After a few hours of gazing at mult-stpried, multi-tiered, dark-wooded temples with ornate cyprus roofs and and garish Buddhist shrines inside, you start sheepishly accepting everything you see, and find it hard to discriminate among similar sights. It's like looking at massive gemstones or royal treasures:

"Wow, that one's even grander than the last."
"Yeah, and the placard here says it was named a national treasure a century ago."

Then, you try to absorb as much of the culture and craftsmanship as you can in the little time you have, but it's unrealistic to fully grasp the opus of multiple master craftsmen/landscapers lives' work.

"Well, should we check out the next one?"
"Yeah, I think so."

We also gazed upon several hundred teacups, teapots, and sake sets for sale in Kyoto, your Japanese ceramics headquarters. After we resolved to purchase a sake set for ourselves, I (Scott) began to pay more attention. Since we're on vacation and our lives are relatively stress-free (our only daily tribulation is figuring out whether we're chewing on octopus or tofu- and more often than not, it's octopus), figuring out which sake set to purchase became a concern. Nay - an adventure.

Scott: Babe, look at this one.
Sara: Well, that one doesn't have a little signature on the bottom.
Scott: Oh, hmm - you're right. Well, I'll be damned if I'm going to drink rice-wine out of a machine-made or sub-par vessel!
Sara: Ditto.

In the end, we purchased a teapot that technically shouldn't be used for heating and serving sake, but we still think it's pretty wicked cool. Plus, if you're knowledgeable and audacious enough to mention that technicality as we're serving you sake, you'll be politely escorted from our domicile shortly after sustaining third-degree burns from scalding hot rice wine. Hot damn.

P.S. - We caved in and dined at an Indian establishment. Don't judge.

Zen Masters

2007-02-24T02:05:00.000-06:00

Hot Japanese Breakfast. That:s what our hotel advertised, but we had no idea what to expect. Basically, it:s a bunch of stuff you wouldn't want to encounter at 7AM, unless you're still drunk and havent hit the hay from the night before. Miso soup, rice, home fries, tomato salad, battered hot peppers, and cabbage rolls in hot broth. Most unfortunately, there was nothing we could smuggle in a backpack for a complementary lunch.

We bisited the Imperial Palace - the most impressive part was the gardens, designed to give the viewer a multitlde of different views as they traverse each bend of the garden path.

We ate an especially vomitous lunch at a noodle bar - nothing risque, just a horrible, smoky, chicken-noodle soup. Alas, not all noodle bars are created equal.

We then visited the Daitokuji temple and adjoining Koto-In zen garden. the latter was very tranquil, and a pleasant break in our day.

We ended the day with a private tea ceremony at the Kinkakuji temple (gold pavillion). The thick green tea packed a mean buzz!

A Fistful of Yen

2007-02-24T02:00:00.000-06:00

In our time here in Japan, we've tried withdrawing cash from over thirty ATMs without luck. Even though this country is technologically savvy, they aren't all hip to the plastic. We were running low on cash - panic set in.

Most ATMs have no English directions, so instead of inserting our card and gambling with the Japanese-character buttons on the touchscreens, we've employed the "walk away and act like you just got cash" strategy. That way, people don't laugh at you - however; it doesn't get you one Yen closer to a subway pass or a bowl of noodles.

The ATMs that actually had English instructions would only accept Japanese bank cards or Citibank, and we roll with Wells Fargo check/debit Visa. Platnum, baby. That's how we keep it real.

Some philanthropic bank tellers explained that if you have an international debit\cash card, you need to visit an international ATM at a post office. With this pearl of wisdom, we withdrew a substantial sum, and we've been wrecklessly spending all of our liquid funds like a rookie MLB shortstop with a new contract. That's right - instead of walking the four miles from the shrines back to our hotel, we rode the bus. Bling-bling!!!

(Not) Alone in Kyoto

2007-02-24T01:45:00.000-06:00

Transit to Kyoto took shy of three hours, but the stress may have taken hours off of our lives. Tokyo JR (Japan Rail) station is a sea of frenzied Japanese sprint-walkers. The reasons we weren't separated are simple:

We could both see clear over their heads.
We were wearing our neon down jackets in a sea of drab trenchcoats.

We spent our first afternoon in Kyoto at the Nijo palace, and purchasing our "permission slips" for some of the better-protected national treasures. A visibly upset European girl was in the slip office when we arrived. The women behind the counter were extremely polite, yet seemed unable to help her with her issue. She stormed out, and the Japanese women shared high-pitched, squeaky chuckles. We joined in. Good times.

The most interesting feature of the ancient Nijo palace was the "Nightinggale floors" - floorboards that sound like a pleasant bird call when tread upon, for intruder alerts. They acieved this by building in a few millimeters of space between the boards and the studs below. Selling your property? Don't forget to accentuate your Nightinggale Floors.

We spent the evening in the Gion district, a historical-yet-hip corner of Kyoto. Unable to find a "cute" dinner spot for less than $30/dish we ducked into another noodle bar and got loaded on sake rice wine. Not a bad compromise.

We did some shopping - Sara found a must-have purse "that's OK to buy because look how well it can pack down into our suitcases." I looked for a crazy-hip Japanese t-shirt, like one with a ninja killing a dragon who's eating a snake with huge fangs - but all the hip Japanese shirts have nihilistic English wording on them, like "High as Hell," or "Rockabilly Jim's," or simply "F-ck." No t-shirt acquired.

We searched for ice cream on the way back. Guess whose idea? Wrong - Scott wanted to sample the Haagen Dazs caramel crunch bar that's exclusively marketed in Asia. We found it at a grocery store and enjoyed it in our complementary hotel kimonos. In Sara's words - "Mmmmazing!"

Big in Japan

2007-02-21T16:06:00.000-06:00

Our flight across the Pacific was pleasant enough - I (Scott) have a few complaints about the computer references in our in-flight movie "Man of the Year," but many more important things are afoot.

Tokyo is a marketing phenomenon. No square inch of the city is safe from obscure, cartoonish, advertisements. The only blank canvases are the bottoms of the bowls in the noodle bars - which by the way, is something the USA should look into adoptiong.

Re: noodle bars - in less than five minutes, you can shimmy into an alley, place your order, make the most satisfying slurping noices you've ever imagined (which, in fact, is encouraged), and continue on your busy Japanese way. We've hit two such spots in our 24 hours here.

Jet lag can be leveraged constructively. We awoke in our hotel the first morning at 2:30 AM (Scott) and 5:00 AM (Sara) just in time to catch the subway to Tsukiji market, the premier sushi fish trade on the Tokyo coast.

So we show up right on time to find the market closed for "holiday." However, we stammered across Tokyo by foot and rail to see the free gardens, shrines, and palaces, determined not to let our early start go to waste. Unfortunately, the city was largely asleep, and we were the only people (tourists or otherwise) getting our shot at the city so early. We did, however, return to the maket square later in the day to eat the freshest and most rapidly-devoured (they want you in and out in 10 minutes to free up the barstools for other waiting patrons) sushi either of us has ever tasted.

We spent two hours of that afternoon in the Ginza district at a Kabuki performance, a theatrical play style invented hundreds of years ago, in Imperial Japan.

After the performance, the one word we could agree on is "Interesting." The audience laughed at certain dialog and plot elements, and we laughted at - well, everything else. To illustrate the performance: painted faces, feudal Japanese garb, verbal intonation reminscent of inane Monty Python sketches, and an all-male cast (even for female roles).

Also today:

Mastery of the Tokyo subway system, and discovery of the delectable sandwich samplers (read: Japanese adult Lunchables) peddled therein.
Roaming the Asakusa market and temple, through the Kappabashi (read: cookware) district to buy ("The Cutest Ever" -Sara) teacups.
Searching for large Japanese kitchen knives.

Up next: Kyoto, Japan.

Adieu, Mon Pays

2007-02-19T06:41:00.000-06:00

We're packed and provisioned according to Sara's impressively attentive lists, and we're both a bit dazed this morning from our week of unemployed celebration and relocation. Dazed but excited, like two monkeys getting shot off into space. However, these monkeys are highly evolved, and they have a plan; here's where we'll be for the next 2.5 months:

Japan (Tokyo, Kyoto)
Thailand (Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai)
Cambodia (Siem Reap, Angkor Wat)
Vietnam (Hanoi)
Laos (Luang Prabang)
Kenya (Nairobi, Masai Mara)
Tanzania (Mt. Kilimanjaro)
UAE (Dubai)
Egypt (Cairo, Aswan, Luxor)
Greece & Crete (Athens, Iraklion, Chania)
Turkey (Istanbul, Cappadocia)
Romania (Bucharest, Brasov)
Italy (Rome)
Iceland (Reykjavik)

...Pretty much in that order. We'll write when we're across the pond in Japan. And now - fourteen hours of breathing stale air and sharing farts in a massive jetliner.

Throwing in the Towel

2007-02-10T17:43:00.000-06:00

In the past two weeks, Sara and I have effectively (and temporarily) thrust much of our responsibility into the capable hands and shoulders of our supportive friends and family. All this in preparation for our world circumnavigation and our subsequent medical residency relocation. Enumerating the responsibilities we've recently shed:

Sara completed her last responsibilities as a medical student, prior to showing up at graduation.
I left work at GMI and delegated my projects to my teammates.
We're moving out of our apartment, leaving our possessions securely boxed and organized in the Ehrlichs' basement.
The Axners have accepted our saltwater aquarium, and are excited to operate it for a long time, if need be.
Jennifer offered to nurse our plants.
The Ehrlichs are attending the medical residency match ceremony in our stead, guided by Lisa, Anne, and Kristin.
My parents will accept ground mail from my Northwestern Ph. D. program and communicate it to me digitally.
Anne and Steve are keeping an eye out for a prospective Friedman Chicago apartment.

So what are we left to ponder and protect? The answer: two bags of old shirts and rugged outerwear, our travel documents, a deck of cards, an iPod with two sets of earphones, and one digital camera that I hope will survive the beating we're about to inflict.

Thanks, everybody, for letting us travel without the weight on our backs or on our minds. We'll draft our payment plans - in lunches, beers, or souvenir replicas of ancient fertility statuettes.

Throw in the towel? Well, on second thought, could you just hold the towel for us until we return?