So three and a half months have flown by and I barely had a chance to update the blog. I will try and bullet point the highlights since India up until now, but this post isn't going to do my experiences much justice.
I. Ko Chang, Thailand
-After fleeing India in a bit of a hurry, we decided that the beach was our only option if we wanted some R&R. We did the math and decided that although we devoted 2 weeks in December to Thailand, we would head East a little early and relax on Ko Chang.
-We beach bummed for a few days, ate a TON of pad key moo, and enjoyed the slower pace.
-One day we decided to rent a motorbike (or as the islanders call it, a moto) to explore the highly advertised jungles and waterfalls. When we went to rent the bike, the lady said they only had one left, but it was fine to ride three to a bike. (Apparently the locals often fit families of 4 or 5 to a bike). We were slightly apprehensive, especially because the three of us had never ridden a moto before, but we paid upfront and headed off to the waterfalls.
-The writing was on the wall from the beginning: renting one moto for the three of us was a poor decision.
-I drove first and got the three of us to the falls in one piece. We jumped off the cliffs, swam around for a while, and then the park rangers told us that they were closing. On our way out I slipped and landed on my elbow, but I am often Messica, and laughed off the golf ball-sized lump.
-We switched drivers and planned on looping around the island once before heading back to our bungalow. At the end of the road we went to make a turn and out balance was thrown off; we skidded, hit a parked moto, and landed in a ditch.
-Long story short, we did not make it out unscathed. Here's a quick breakdown of our injuries:
Seth: two stitches in his knee and a couple of scrapes.
Brett: a broken rib, a very badly sprained ankle/foot, a few stitches in his knee, and a giant bruise on his thigh.
Me: a two and a half inch gash on my shin, a few stitches on my leg, some scratches on my other leg, and an inoperable puncture wound to the bone.**
-An expensive hospital bill later, we were driven back to our bungalow where Brett and I remained immobile for 3 days. The pain was unbearable and the medicine the doctor prescribed did nothing for my leg. Seth was amazing and held my hand as the doctors dug around the wound without any anaesthesia; Brett couldn't stomach my screams and had to leave the hospital.
**The puncture wound was too deep to stitch at the time of the accident, which led to a bandage redressing at the hospital every other day for 10 days. It got pricey and annoying, so I convinced a nurse to teach me how to redress my leg myself. After 5 weeks the hole finally closed, but my leg is pretty badly scarred. I'm over its unattractive appearance (no need to remind me how gross it is when you get to see it in person). I am fondly referring to it as my Thai Tattoo.
-This post is getting too long, so I am cutting out the details.
II. Sri Lanka
-went on a safari along the southern coast of SL; saw a leopard, elephants, wild boars, a cobra snake, jack rabbits, and a ton of birds and types of deer
-stayed in the rain forest for a night and saw snakes, monkeys, lizards, frogs, butterflies, and birds
-experienced a rain storm in the rain forest; thousands of termites evacuated their hives (?) and swarmed the light from our guesthouse/us (this was hellish)... then they all died and littered the guesthouse floor
-saw the Tooth Temple (which houses the Buddha's tooth)
-went to dinner with a world famous artist, Senaka Senanayaka, and his wife
III. Vietnam
-Ho Chi Minh City: saw the War Remnants Museum, shopped in the Ben Than Market, crawled through the Cu Chi Tunnels
-Mui Ne: sledded down the white and yellow sand dunes, waded through Fairy Stream, avoided the typhoon
-Hoi An: had a tailor custom make a few dresses/coats (the boys had some suits made) for dirt cheap, wandered through the old town (UNESCO world heritage site)
-Ha Long Bay/Cat Ba Island: went deep water soloing (rock climbing the rock structures in the middle of the bay with no equipment or an instructor)
-Danang: wandered through the caves and climbed up the peaks of the Marble Mountains
-Hanoi: visited the Temple of Literature, saw Ho Chi Minh's preserved body, took the epic journey (2 hour bus, 1.5 hour rowboat, 1 hour climb up--then all the way back again) to the Perfume Pagoda
-Sapa: took a trek through the mountains and visited 4 Hill Tribe Villages
IV. Cambodia
-Phenom Phen: got violently ill for four days (which cut out our sight seeing), and visited the Killing Fields
-Siem Reap: explored Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, the temple from Tomb Raider, and saw sunset at the top of another temple (the entire Angkor Wat complex was my absolute favorite thing I saw/experienced this trip)
V. Thailand
-Bangkok: bargained our way through the weekend market, ate copious amounts of street food, tried deep fried maggots (tastes like potato chips)
-Ko Tao: scuba dove around the coral reef
-Ko Phang Ngan: attended the Full Moon Party (along with 30K other people)
I am filled with stories and way more details on the good, the bad, and the gross, but I have no more time at the internet cafe; however, I return stateside on Sunday and can fill in all the gaps when I'm home.
xoxo
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The Worst Day of my Life (Seriously)
**I posted 2 entries today... check out the post below this one for a giant India update.
Before I close the India chapter, I thought I'd share the worst day of my life. It begins in Darjeeling where we are scheduled to take a 16 or 17 hour, overnight train ride to Varanasi. According to Lonely Planet, the city is one of the holiest spots in the Hindu religion. The diseased and dying migrate to Varanasi (which is situated on the Ganges river) in hopes of dying along the river banks. Because of the religious significance, the city is jampacked with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the body-burning ceremonies, rickshaw drivers trying to overcharge you for a tour of the city, and the terminally ill. I knew that Varanasi would be the most shocking part of India, but what I didn't realize was that the train ride to the city would be the most terrifying experience of my life.
Per a suggestion from Marco, a fellow traveler we met in Darjeeling, the third class sleeper train was the way to travel; it was cheap, comfortable, and totally safe. Marco was clearly smoking something, because the second I set foot in the train car I wanted to turn back. There were 8 beds per compartment and about 8 compartments in each train car. If you do the math, there should have been 64 people per car; but India is not logical and people do not follow rules.
In our 8-person compartment there were 14 people crammed in. Men slept 2 to a bed that was 1/2 the size of a twin, and a few others slept like sardines on the floor. (We reserved one bed per person and were the only people in the train who slept solo). There were over 100 people, easily, shoved into our non-airconditioned train car. The smell was horrific: a mix of stale air, body odor, feces, fried food, and urine. At each stop peddlers came through trying to sell chai tea from a dirty kettle or some fried dough balls covered in flies.
WARNING: The next paragraph is slightly graphic.
I don't even want to get into the bathroom situation. The floor was covered in a half-inch thick layer of God knows what and the smell made me gag. I walked in and immediatey turned around, grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes, and wrapped a scarf around my face to mask the scent. A few hours later I tried to brave the bathroom again, but the second time was so much worse. It's as if the entire train splatter painted the bathroom. No more details necessary.
As I mentioned before, people come to Varanasi to die; therefore, the train is packed with the diseased and dying. They sleep along side of you in the cars, they sit in their own feces in between the cars, and they hack, cough, and excrete wherever they please. I think we were the only tourists on the train, which only added to our discomfort; people stared at us for hours at a time. The whole situation was awful and depressing.
Here is an excerpt from Brett's blog that describes the train ride:
"On the train, we were some of the only people who had purchased an individual bed. Most people slept two to a bed with two or three other people on the floor between them. Feet and hands poked out from every crevice. Eyes peered over the beds and in between broken boards. The stares were unnerving and the smells were revolting. People slept in feces near the bathrooms--lying in the dark space between cars too weak to move. Our train crept along at a pace that makes the FDR during rushhour seem like an abandoned highway in middle America...
The whole experience felt like a nightmare from which one cannot wake. I kept thinking that if I only pinched myself a bit harder, I would wake up somewhere comfortable or tolerable, but all I could see were hundreds of people, poor, dirty, and desperate. I clutched my passport and money belt tighter." I think that sums it up pretty well.
I was emotionally spent after 10 hours on the train and on the verge of a breakdown. I hadn't slept more than 2.5 hours, I felt so dirty, and I had to pee. Then we found out that our train was indefinitely delayed. We were stranded in Patna, 7 hours outside of Varanasi.
With no other options, we jumped off the train from hell and decided to hire a car to Varanasi. That is when I saw it: the bodies of two young men huddled together, dead, and covered in flies. I lost it. I broke into tears and wanted nothing more than to be safe, comfortable, and as far away from India as possible.
Hiring a car proved to be impossible. The only tourist agency in the city tried to overcharge us (shocking, I know!) and when we tried to discuss the details about 50 people swarmed us. They just came to stare, but the crowd was so big that we couldn't move. An hour later we were strong-armed into buying another train ticket and booking it to Varanasi.
We safely made it to Varanasi after 20+ hours, but I have never been more miserable, dirty, or tired in my entire life. This experience was the last straw for our group; it was time to get out of India. After reading this you might think we were being prissy, but I can honestly say that the things we saw on the train were some of the most awful, heartbreaking sights I have seen on my trip.
On a more positive note, this was my rock bottom. Everything post-Varanasi (sans the motorbike accident) has been absolutely amazing. I'll update more when I can!
xoxo
Before I close the India chapter, I thought I'd share the worst day of my life. It begins in Darjeeling where we are scheduled to take a 16 or 17 hour, overnight train ride to Varanasi. According to Lonely Planet, the city is one of the holiest spots in the Hindu religion. The diseased and dying migrate to Varanasi (which is situated on the Ganges river) in hopes of dying along the river banks. Because of the religious significance, the city is jampacked with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse at one of the body-burning ceremonies, rickshaw drivers trying to overcharge you for a tour of the city, and the terminally ill. I knew that Varanasi would be the most shocking part of India, but what I didn't realize was that the train ride to the city would be the most terrifying experience of my life.
Per a suggestion from Marco, a fellow traveler we met in Darjeeling, the third class sleeper train was the way to travel; it was cheap, comfortable, and totally safe. Marco was clearly smoking something, because the second I set foot in the train car I wanted to turn back. There were 8 beds per compartment and about 8 compartments in each train car. If you do the math, there should have been 64 people per car; but India is not logical and people do not follow rules.
In our 8-person compartment there were 14 people crammed in. Men slept 2 to a bed that was 1/2 the size of a twin, and a few others slept like sardines on the floor. (We reserved one bed per person and were the only people in the train who slept solo). There were over 100 people, easily, shoved into our non-airconditioned train car. The smell was horrific: a mix of stale air, body odor, feces, fried food, and urine. At each stop peddlers came through trying to sell chai tea from a dirty kettle or some fried dough balls covered in flies.
WARNING: The next paragraph is slightly graphic.
I don't even want to get into the bathroom situation. The floor was covered in a half-inch thick layer of God knows what and the smell made me gag. I walked in and immediatey turned around, grabbed a pack of antibacterial wipes, and wrapped a scarf around my face to mask the scent. A few hours later I tried to brave the bathroom again, but the second time was so much worse. It's as if the entire train splatter painted the bathroom. No more details necessary.
As I mentioned before, people come to Varanasi to die; therefore, the train is packed with the diseased and dying. They sleep along side of you in the cars, they sit in their own feces in between the cars, and they hack, cough, and excrete wherever they please. I think we were the only tourists on the train, which only added to our discomfort; people stared at us for hours at a time. The whole situation was awful and depressing.
Here is an excerpt from Brett's blog that describes the train ride:
"On the train, we were some of the only people who had purchased an individual bed. Most people slept two to a bed with two or three other people on the floor between them. Feet and hands poked out from every crevice. Eyes peered over the beds and in between broken boards. The stares were unnerving and the smells were revolting. People slept in feces near the bathrooms--lying in the dark space between cars too weak to move. Our train crept along at a pace that makes the FDR during rushhour seem like an abandoned highway in middle America...
The whole experience felt like a nightmare from which one cannot wake. I kept thinking that if I only pinched myself a bit harder, I would wake up somewhere comfortable or tolerable, but all I could see were hundreds of people, poor, dirty, and desperate. I clutched my passport and money belt tighter." I think that sums it up pretty well.
I was emotionally spent after 10 hours on the train and on the verge of a breakdown. I hadn't slept more than 2.5 hours, I felt so dirty, and I had to pee. Then we found out that our train was indefinitely delayed. We were stranded in Patna, 7 hours outside of Varanasi.
With no other options, we jumped off the train from hell and decided to hire a car to Varanasi. That is when I saw it: the bodies of two young men huddled together, dead, and covered in flies. I lost it. I broke into tears and wanted nothing more than to be safe, comfortable, and as far away from India as possible.
Hiring a car proved to be impossible. The only tourist agency in the city tried to overcharge us (shocking, I know!) and when we tried to discuss the details about 50 people swarmed us. They just came to stare, but the crowd was so big that we couldn't move. An hour later we were strong-armed into buying another train ticket and booking it to Varanasi.
We safely made it to Varanasi after 20+ hours, but I have never been more miserable, dirty, or tired in my entire life. This experience was the last straw for our group; it was time to get out of India. After reading this you might think we were being prissy, but I can honestly say that the things we saw on the train were some of the most awful, heartbreaking sights I have seen on my trip.
On a more positive note, this was my rock bottom. Everything post-Varanasi (sans the motorbike accident) has been absolutely amazing. I'll update more when I can!
xoxo
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Highlights from India
Unfortunately my laptop broke and my camera only works 10% of the time. I'm going to go ahead and use my broken electronics as an excuse for why I haven't posted in over a month. Sorry for the delay. (Also, if you want an even more up-to-date post, check out Brett's blog. His most recent entry is a bullet-pointed list we made up of all the things we don't have time to blog about).
___________________________________________________
When I left India I was dirty, tired, and (probably for the first time in my life) speechless. It took me over a month to digest everything I saw and experienced... not to mention their spicy curries. That being said, this entry is going to be a highlight reel of sorts, but I'll save my scariest, saddest, funniest, grossest, and weirdest stories for separate posts.
I. Hippie Paradise: A few Days in Dharamsala (aka MacLeodganj)
While Avery was back in the States sorting out her passport/visa stuff, Seth and I fled from the Delhi heat and booked it up north to Dharamsala. This city/town/village is set in the foothills of the Himalayas and acts as a capital for the Tibetan government-in-exile and homebase for the Dalai Lama.
The Abridged Version:
-We visited (and loved) all of the major tourist attractions: the Dalai Lama's temple complex, the Tibetan Refugee museum, etc.
-We freed ourselves from our bad karma by spinning the Mani Prayer Wheels. (Side note: I decided that over the past year I must have been a terrible person. Spinning the wheels did NOTHING for my karma; the proof is in the motorcycle accident, Varanasi train ride, and hellish overnight bus trips. I'll get more into my string of bad luck later).
-We got suckered into buying over-priced prayer beads. But they're from Dharamsala, I keep telling myself.
-We helped Tibetan refugees improve their English as they told us their exile stories.
-We meditated and got in touch with our Buddhist sides. Om.
-I drank 2 pots of tea per day.
-We met the Dalai Lama.
Okay, the last one is a lie... he was in NYC when we were in Dharamsala. Go figure.
II. A Night at the Golden Temple
-Being a beach bum in Ko Chang (Thailand)
-My motorbike accident (also in Ko Chang)
-Going on a safari and exploring the rainforests in Sri Lanka
-Why I absolutely LOVE Vietnam and never want to leave
___________________________________________________
When I left India I was dirty, tired, and (probably for the first time in my life) speechless. It took me over a month to digest everything I saw and experienced... not to mention their spicy curries. That being said, this entry is going to be a highlight reel of sorts, but I'll save my scariest, saddest, funniest, grossest, and weirdest stories for separate posts.
I. Hippie Paradise: A few Days in Dharamsala (aka MacLeodganj)
While Avery was back in the States sorting out her passport/visa stuff, Seth and I fled from the Delhi heat and booked it up north to Dharamsala. This city/town/village is set in the foothills of the Himalayas and acts as a capital for the Tibetan government-in-exile and homebase for the Dalai Lama.
The Abridged Version:
-We visited (and loved) all of the major tourist attractions: the Dalai Lama's temple complex, the Tibetan Refugee museum, etc.
-We freed ourselves from our bad karma by spinning the Mani Prayer Wheels. (Side note: I decided that over the past year I must have been a terrible person. Spinning the wheels did NOTHING for my karma; the proof is in the motorcycle accident, Varanasi train ride, and hellish overnight bus trips. I'll get more into my string of bad luck later).
-We got suckered into buying over-priced prayer beads. But they're from Dharamsala, I keep telling myself.
-We helped Tibetan refugees improve their English as they told us their exile stories.
-We meditated and got in touch with our Buddhist sides. Om.
-I drank 2 pots of tea per day.
-We met the Dalai Lama.
Okay, the last one is a lie... he was in NYC when we were in Dharamsala. Go figure.
II. A Night at the Golden Temple
On our way back to Delhi, Sennai dropped us off in Amritsar to see the Golden Temple. This is one of the most holy and significant temples in the Sikh religion with thousands of pilgrims visiting the temple daily.
Long Story Short:
-We ate in the communal kitchen with hundreds of other pilgrims. The kitchen is run by volunteers and feeds every person that comes into the temple. The food was pretty debatable, but I had a piece of bread and called it a day. Seth, on the other hand, devoured every last bit of the gray, goopy curry.
-We got to see the priests putting the scriptures to bed. According to Sennai, this is a rare occurance and a very cool thing to see. I would have to agree.
-The temple is incredible. We went at night and the reflection of the temple in it's surrounding lake was beautiful. Sennai also agreed that the reflection was pretty and tried to take artistic shots of the temple and the lake. The pictures are terrible, at best, but the man tried. (Seth will be posting Sennai's shots in the near future).
-Before this whole pilgrimage to Amritsar, Sennai dropped us off at the India-Pakistani border for the changing of the guard ceremony. It was hot, muggy, and Yom Kippur (and Seth was observing the holiday). Although Seth was feeling faint, we still had a good time. The area was PACKED with Indian tourists chanting, singing, and dancing and the guards were completely synchronized. I have a video of the event, but it won't let me upload.III. Sunrise Seranades at the Taj/Brett Joins the Group
So for some reason we always get talked into taking sunrise tours/trips/excursions. Why do we willingly wake up at 4 to do this sort of thing? Pictures look better in the early hours. It's less crowded than at noon. Sunrise is peaceful. Who knows? But the Taj at 6am could not be cooler. Oh, and Brett flew in from China to travel with us through December.
Quickly:
-The Taj is way more impressive in person. I know this is obvious, but I wasn't too keen on seeing it in the beginning. I assumed that this was an Eiffel Tower/Statue of Liberty type thing that I could see a picture of and be perfectly saisfied. No way.
-We had an awesome tour guide who not only dressed like he was a cast member of Saturday Night Fever, but also told us little bits and pieces of lesser known Taj trivia.
-We met a 60-somthing year old Taiwanese man who seranaded us as the sun came up. He proceeded to tell us how Taiwan wants to be the 51st American state; after he chanted Tai-wan-five-one! he would do a little jig and awkwardly laugh. Laslty, he told me that next year he's taking his girfriend to the Taj at sunrise (because it's so romantic) and he will sing to her and if he can't help himself, he will touch her. Inappropriate? I think so, but the man was hilarious.
IV. Sucking it up and Hiking the Himalayas/Avery Returns
Some how I was talked into signing up for a 3-day trek through the Indian and Nepali (Nepalese?) Himalayas. As you know, I don't typically engage in any sort of outdoorsy activities, but the boys pitched the idea, argued that it was a once in a lifetime thing, and convinced me that seeing Mount Everest would be worth every rupee. To physically prepare I combed through Darjeeling's markets and bought a big, itchy sweater, a knit hat, and some baggy socks. (I looked gross, obviously). To mentally prepare I begged the boys not to hike too far in front of me.
In Short:
-We hired a guide, named Buddha, to lead us on our trek.
-The actual hiking was really fun and not too exhausting. I kept up with the boys the whole time.
-The Himalayas are unbelievably gorgeous (I have 384204 pictures on my semi-broken camera) and the people in Nepal could not have been more inviting.
-We were supposed to see Everest on our second day of trekking, but a serious rainstorm crushed that dream. I am still pretty bitter.
-The rain was so heavy that the threat of landslides and hypothermia kept all of the hikers from climbing. That means we stayed in a Nepali guesthouse for 24 hours playing cards, drinking tea and some weird mustard beer, and trying to keep warm. They don't have heaters up in the mountains.
-Me and the boys had to share one queen-sized bed and use 12 comforters to keep from freezing during the night.
-On the third day we got to see the third highest Himalayan peak, Mount Kangchengjunga.
V. Operation Get Me Out of India
Overall, my feelings on India are completely polarized. On one hand, the diversity, holy sights, and culture are unbelievable and unlike anything I have ever seen before. On the other hand, the dirt, poverty, and constant chaos are absolutely jarring. I think I am oversimplifying it by saying I was culture shocked.
Our original itinerary had us gallivanting all over India for about five weeks; however, after three and a half the vote was unanimous: we were over India. I was a bit disheartened, mostly because I was SO excited for the Indian portion of my trip. All summer I learned about the entire country, read India-related books (of the travel and fiction variety), and had a few lengthy discussions with my Hindu Lit professor about his time in India; despite my research, I could not have been more unprepared. At this point Avery decided to part ways and the boys and I changed flights around and decided to take an island vacation from our vacation. Sun, beaches, bars, what could be better?
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I hope this post will tide you over for a few days, but here's what's coming next:
-Taking a 24 hour train (stuffed with diseased and dying people) to Varanasi. (Yes, I will be backtracking to India, but this experience deserves its own post).-Being a beach bum in Ko Chang (Thailand)
-My motorbike accident (also in Ko Chang)
-Going on a safari and exploring the rainforests in Sri Lanka
-Why I absolutely LOVE Vietnam and never want to leave
Oh, and it's official: i'll be home at 4:30pm on December 6th. Let the countdown begin!
xoxo
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Side Note
The internet in India is absolutely terrible; so slow, rejects Gmail, won't load Facebook, etc. That being said, I have very limited access to my email and am having trouble finding time to respond and update my blog. I will try to update when I get to Varanasi (tomorrow).
Here is a preview of what's to come:
-The Golden Temple and eating with thousands of religious pilgrims in its communal kitchen
-Seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise
-Being scammed by our driver, Sanai
-Going on a three-day hike through the Himlayas (yes, I went hiking)
Here is a preview of what's to come:
-The Golden Temple and eating with thousands of religious pilgrims in its communal kitchen
-Seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise
-Being scammed by our driver, Sanai
-Going on a three-day hike through the Himlayas (yes, I went hiking)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
A Day in Chandigarh
Judging by the phone calls my mom received, my last post apparently caused a bit of a panic. Don't worry, Seth and I are safe and sound; we were both a bit neurotic in Delhi, but we are enjoying ourselves up in the Himalayas.
I'll pick up from Thursday, when Senni (our driver), Seth, and I booked it out of Delhi and headed to Chandigarh. On our way out of the city, the streets became less crowded with people, but the traffic did not let up. Buses, trucks, and auto-rickshaws were packed to the gills and people had no reservations about hanging off the sides or tops of the vehicles to get to their next destination. Even motorcycles were piled high with two or three adults and a small child--all without helmets--and swerved in and out of trucks recklessly.
As we chugged along the highway my culture shock started to fade a bit and the guilt set in. Here I was sitting in an air-conditioned car with a scam artist/driver, while people were packed like sardines in neighboring cars and buses. The guilt only got worse as the poverty became more apparent. Most of the housing outside of the city was made up of sheets of corrugated metal, plastic tarps, and piles of brush or garbage molded into walls.
(I just want to mention that Vodafone and Pepsi are probably the most advertised companies in and around Delhi. They slap their logo on the sheets of corrugated metal that people use for doors, walls, and ceilings, and for a minute I thought that Vodafone was the only cell phone provider in India. Then I realized that I was an idiot).
Back to the trip…The route from Delhi to Dharamsala is roughly 13 hours. To cut the long drive down, Seth and I decided to spend an afternoon and night in Chandigarh, the capital of both Punjab and Haryana. This city was built in the 1950’s and was completely designed by Le Corbusier, a modern architect. It’s known for being an affluent city (although Indian affluence is very different from American affluence) and is also one of the cleanest cities in India. I don’t know if I agree with the latter half of that statement, but apparently the population in the city surged over the past five years. More people, more garbage.
Chandigarh is relatively new and lacks any trace of traditional Indian architecture. There are no fancy domes or intricate facades; instead, the buildings are geometric and mostly made from gray concrete. I know it sounds pretty gross, but what makes the city so attractive are the thousands of flowers that bloom in February. Since it’s September, we didn’t see one blossom, but the city was still nice. (Truthfully, anything would have seemed nice at this point. I was--and still am--scarred from my 24 hour run in Delhi).
So we get to Chandigarh and Senni takes us to the Rock Garden.
Some houses made of recycled plastic and glass. 
Monkeys made from plastic and glass.
Afterwards we wandered over to the man-made Sukhna Lake (Le Corbusier designed this, too) and rented a swan-shaped paddle boat to kill some time.
I'll pick up from Thursday, when Senni (our driver), Seth, and I booked it out of Delhi and headed to Chandigarh. On our way out of the city, the streets became less crowded with people, but the traffic did not let up. Buses, trucks, and auto-rickshaws were packed to the gills and people had no reservations about hanging off the sides or tops of the vehicles to get to their next destination. Even motorcycles were piled high with two or three adults and a small child--all without helmets--and swerved in and out of trucks recklessly.
As we chugged along the highway my culture shock started to fade a bit and the guilt set in. Here I was sitting in an air-conditioned car with a scam artist/driver, while people were packed like sardines in neighboring cars and buses. The guilt only got worse as the poverty became more apparent. Most of the housing outside of the city was made up of sheets of corrugated metal, plastic tarps, and piles of brush or garbage molded into walls.
(I just want to mention that Vodafone and Pepsi are probably the most advertised companies in and around Delhi. They slap their logo on the sheets of corrugated metal that people use for doors, walls, and ceilings, and for a minute I thought that Vodafone was the only cell phone provider in India. Then I realized that I was an idiot).
Back to the trip…The route from Delhi to Dharamsala is roughly 13 hours. To cut the long drive down, Seth and I decided to spend an afternoon and night in Chandigarh, the capital of both Punjab and Haryana. This city was built in the 1950’s and was completely designed by Le Corbusier, a modern architect. It’s known for being an affluent city (although Indian affluence is very different from American affluence) and is also one of the cleanest cities in India. I don’t know if I agree with the latter half of that statement, but apparently the population in the city surged over the past five years. More people, more garbage.
Chandigarh is relatively new and lacks any trace of traditional Indian architecture. There are no fancy domes or intricate facades; instead, the buildings are geometric and mostly made from gray concrete. I know it sounds pretty gross, but what makes the city so attractive are the thousands of flowers that bloom in February. Since it’s September, we didn’t see one blossom, but the city was still nice. (Truthfully, anything would have seemed nice at this point. I was--and still am--scarred from my 24 hour run in Delhi).
So we get to Chandigarh and Senni takes us to the Rock Garden.
This is Seth in front of a terracotta wall. Obviously.
The story goes something like this: a Pakistani refugee, Nek Chand, was horrified by the amount of waste that accumulated when the city was being built, so he hoarded a ton of it on his property and started making sculptures.
Some houses made of recycled plastic and glass.
When Chand had tens of thousands of sculptures he illegally designed and constructed a garden on government land. It took 15 years before the Indian government heard about his project, but they granted Chand permission to continue.
Some of Chand's glass people.
The Rock Garden is now recognized as one of Asia’s most significant recycling programs; how ironic, considering India is filled with mountains of garbage.
Monkeys made from plastic and glass.Afterwards we wandered over to the man-made Sukhna Lake (Le Corbusier designed this, too) and rented a swan-shaped paddle boat to kill some time.
Chandigarh might have a reputation for being clean, but the lake was a different story. The water looked toxic and when I asked Seth how much it would take for him to jump in, he said at least $5,000. (I don’t think I could ever be persuaded to take a dip).
We ended our day with an early dinner* (read: feast) of super spicy chicken, parantha (a stuffed bread), and some vegetable-sauce-spice medley and went to bed.
*Even if Senni was/is a scam artist, he is GREAT at letting waiters know that I am allergic to dairy products. I find this priceless when traveling in a country that depends heavily on ghi (clarified butter) and yogurt-based sauces.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Sensory Overload
I don’t know where to begin. I think I am suffering from a severe case of culture shock and can’t properly sort out my thoughts. Seth and I boarded the Athens-Delhi flight, but had a layover in Bahrain (an island in the Persian Gulf). As soon as we entered the terminal we were the odd ones out. I was wearing a long dress and a sweater--to respect the conservative dress code-- but was the only lady without her head covered. When I went to use the bathroom there was a porcelain squat toilet (basically a hole in the ground) without a door. Let’s just say I had to put my ideas of privacy aside and adapt to the Bahrain style. Oh, and while I was waiting for the squat toilet, the lady in front of me asked me to hold her baby. She took her sweet time and I awkwardly held her baby who looked absolutely terrified. It was an uncomfortable experience for both parties.
When we got to Delhi I was completely speechless. I had no idea what to expect, which was probably for the best. It’s hard to describe the city, but I am going to try my best., First of all, a few people warned me about the smells. Apparently the hot September heat just exacerbates the natural smells of India. Lonely Planet describes the smell as sweat, chai, smoke, urine, and curry all mixed together, yet individually identifiable in one whiff. I think this description is dead on. The smell sounds terrible, but it’s actually not bad. Distinct, but not bad. The heat bakes the scent onto your skin, hair, and clothing, but I got used to it quickly. In fact, the smell is the least of my troubles.
As to be expected, the city is noisy: people are shouting at each other, taxis and trucks honk their horns constantly, and every once in a while music is blasted from a store front. Lastly, people were everywhere. Pedestrians, shopkeepers, vendors, and beggars crowded the sidewalks and spilled onto the streets. The people weaved in and out of the auto-rickshaws and taxis cabs, without hesitation, and it causes more honking and reckless drivers. I experienced all of this from behind the window of my taxi.
This is a picture of women hanging off the back of a small pickup truck. Some of the ladies on the sides (not pictured) were holding babies on their hips, while other small children held on tight.
(Side note: I was wearing my ugly walking shoes to navigate the dirty streets. 10 minutes in, I was covered in 8 blisters and within the half hour they were rubbed raw.)
We finally got to the center and we were warned by the person helping us: “If you pick the wrong travel agency, your wonderful trip will be an absolute NIGHTMARE.” He really emphasized the word nightmare. I’m not going to go into what I was thinking this moment, but I was so stressed out and worried with all of the “what ifs.” I asked the man to suggest a reputable agency in the area and we were pointed to some place down an alley that was conveniently used as a public restroom.
Is it any surprise that the travel agency was a hole in the wall? When Seth and I were walking down the alley the smell was so atrocious I wanted to turn back around. There were people with little make-shift stands set up on the side of the road and they were all shouting at us to visit their area. We tried to pretend we didn’t speak English to throw the vendors off, but Seth speaks Portuguese and I barely speak any Spanish. That plan clearly failed.
(Unfortunately I din't get a ton of pictures of Delhi--I was too nervous to whip my camera out--but I will when I return to Delhi in a few days).
I am going to try to make this novel of a post a bit shorter. Cue the bullet points:
-We get to Grace Travel (or whatever it was called) with the intention of traveling to Dharamsala (the home base for the Tibetan government in exile and the Dalai Lama) or Varanasi (on the Ganges River). We have 6 days to kill before Brett, another friend from Columbia, joins us in Delhi and we still aren’t sure when Avery is meeting us.
-We settle on Dharamsala, because its in the Himalayas and should be much cooler than the inferno that is Delhi. A friend of mine also studied abroad here and sold me on the city.
-The agency tries to figure out our itinerary, but I have read up on scams, and even though this place was government approved, we were not giving out any more info then necessary. The man tried to tell us that if we have extra time after Dharamsala, we should head up to Kashmir, stay on a houseboat, etc. RED FLAG! Kashmir is very dangerous and many
Delhi agencies try to con you into heading up and exploring. They have connections in the city and make a commission off of your ignorance. (At this point I am kicking Seth under the table and say, “Wow, that sounds awesome! I wish we could, but we are leaving for Vietnam on the 29th [bold-face lie] so we can’t make the trip.”)
-We book our Dharamsala trip: a driver picks us up, takes us 5 hours away to Chandigarh for the night. The next day we set off to Dharamsala and spend 3 nights in the mountains. On the fourth day he meets back up with us and we go to Amritsar, see the Golden Temple, and head back to Delhi to meet Brett. We get all the details written out in the contract. I make him add “no hidden fees” and a bunch of other things to secure what we were promised. I get copies of all of our hotel confirmations and receipts. The men think I am neurotic, but I am just taking all necessary precautions.
-And then we passed out at the hotel. We were exhausted, my feet were in pain, and we had big plans for the next morning.
Despite my somewhat alarming post, we are enjoying ourselves and absolutely love what we have seen of Dharamsala.We are at the mercy of internet cafes, since there is no Wi-fi in our hotels, but I will write our update on and Dharamsala before we leave. Oh, and I will add pictures next time I am at an internet café. I’ve been here for 2 hours and I have places to go and the Dalai Lama’s Temple to see.
When we got to Delhi I was completely speechless. I had no idea what to expect, which was probably for the best. It’s hard to describe the city, but I am going to try my best., First of all, a few people warned me about the smells. Apparently the hot September heat just exacerbates the natural smells of India. Lonely Planet describes the smell as sweat, chai, smoke, urine, and curry all mixed together, yet individually identifiable in one whiff. I think this description is dead on. The smell sounds terrible, but it’s actually not bad. Distinct, but not bad. The heat bakes the scent onto your skin, hair, and clothing, but I got used to it quickly. In fact, the smell is the least of my troubles.
As to be expected, the city is noisy: people are shouting at each other, taxis and trucks honk their horns constantly, and every once in a while music is blasted from a store front. Lastly, people were everywhere. Pedestrians, shopkeepers, vendors, and beggars crowded the sidewalks and spilled onto the streets. The people weaved in and out of the auto-rickshaws and taxis cabs, without hesitation, and it causes more honking and reckless drivers. I experienced all of this from behind the window of my taxi.
Here is a picture of a bus in Delhi. It is common to see people sitting on top of the bus or hanging off the side, because the city is so crowded.
Seth and I checked into the hotel, took a nap, and then attempted to find the only government approved travel center in Delhi. It was essential that we went to this specific travel center, because many to the travel agencies in Delhi are scams. It was also important that we booked our next few days through an agency, because India is huge and transportation is confusing.
It took us a few hours to find the travel center. During the hunt we were harassed by male students who “just wanted to practice their English.” This is one of the most prominent scams in Delhi; men pretend to be students around the Connaught Place area and then give you false directions, usher you into stores and taxis of their bosses, and you end up pay money for something you didn‘t want. Don’t worry, we ignored them and kept on walking. A little bit further down the road a lady came up to us with a child who wasn’t properly fed and missing a leg. I know that you aren’t supposed to give anyone money, so I didn’t, but I was so emotionally overwhelmed at the sight of her child that I teared up. I was wearing sunglasses to hide the vulnerability in my eyes, but I guess you could tell I was foreign from a mile away. Other people tried to heckle us into their stores or buy their unidentifiable food substances from their carts, but we just kept going and tried to look like we knew what the hell was going on.
This is a picture of women hanging off the back of a small pickup truck. Some of the ladies on the sides (not pictured) were holding babies on their hips, while other small children held on tight. (Side note: I was wearing my ugly walking shoes to navigate the dirty streets. 10 minutes in, I was covered in 8 blisters and within the half hour they were rubbed raw.)
We finally got to the center and we were warned by the person helping us: “If you pick the wrong travel agency, your wonderful trip will be an absolute NIGHTMARE.” He really emphasized the word nightmare. I’m not going to go into what I was thinking this moment, but I was so stressed out and worried with all of the “what ifs.” I asked the man to suggest a reputable agency in the area and we were pointed to some place down an alley that was conveniently used as a public restroom.
Is it any surprise that the travel agency was a hole in the wall? When Seth and I were walking down the alley the smell was so atrocious I wanted to turn back around. There were people with little make-shift stands set up on the side of the road and they were all shouting at us to visit their area. We tried to pretend we didn’t speak English to throw the vendors off, but Seth speaks Portuguese and I barely speak any Spanish. That plan clearly failed.
(Unfortunately I din't get a ton of pictures of Delhi--I was too nervous to whip my camera out--but I will when I return to Delhi in a few days).
I am going to try to make this novel of a post a bit shorter. Cue the bullet points:
-We get to Grace Travel (or whatever it was called) with the intention of traveling to Dharamsala (the home base for the Tibetan government in exile and the Dalai Lama) or Varanasi (on the Ganges River). We have 6 days to kill before Brett, another friend from Columbia, joins us in Delhi and we still aren’t sure when Avery is meeting us.
-We settle on Dharamsala, because its in the Himalayas and should be much cooler than the inferno that is Delhi. A friend of mine also studied abroad here and sold me on the city.
-The agency tries to figure out our itinerary, but I have read up on scams, and even though this place was government approved, we were not giving out any more info then necessary. The man tried to tell us that if we have extra time after Dharamsala, we should head up to Kashmir, stay on a houseboat, etc. RED FLAG! Kashmir is very dangerous and many
Delhi agencies try to con you into heading up and exploring. They have connections in the city and make a commission off of your ignorance. (At this point I am kicking Seth under the table and say, “Wow, that sounds awesome! I wish we could, but we are leaving for Vietnam on the 29th [bold-face lie] so we can’t make the trip.”)
-We book our Dharamsala trip: a driver picks us up, takes us 5 hours away to Chandigarh for the night. The next day we set off to Dharamsala and spend 3 nights in the mountains. On the fourth day he meets back up with us and we go to Amritsar, see the Golden Temple, and head back to Delhi to meet Brett. We get all the details written out in the contract. I make him add “no hidden fees” and a bunch of other things to secure what we were promised. I get copies of all of our hotel confirmations and receipts. The men think I am neurotic, but I am just taking all necessary precautions.
-And then we passed out at the hotel. We were exhausted, my feet were in pain, and we had big plans for the next morning.
Despite my somewhat alarming post, we are enjoying ourselves and absolutely love what we have seen of Dharamsala.We are at the mercy of internet cafes, since there is no Wi-fi in our hotels, but I will write our update on and Dharamsala before we leave. Oh, and I will add pictures next time I am at an internet café. I’ve been here for 2 hours and I have places to go and the Dalai Lama’s Temple to see.
My Horoscope Predicted This Would Happen
I totally get why most of the population doesn’t read their horoscopes. Most of the magazines and websites that print monthly zodiac predictions just spew out vague details that can be bent and misconstrued until they fit everyone who was born in the month of October. Despite this fact, I am obsessed (quite unabashedly) with reading my horoscope on the first of each month. I read AstrologyZone.com, which publishes a very detailed analysis at the beginning of each month. Yes, I take it with a grain of salt, but it tends to be pretty accurate most of the time. (I know, I just said that most of the horoscopes can be made to fit, but whatever…) So this month, I happen to read my horoscope and it’s all about not traveling the second half of the month. There are a few lines about miscommunication and travel-related blunders, but I decided to ignore the astrological warnings. I was already traveling after all, and had no plans on turning around just because AstrologyZone.com warned Capricorns to be cautious in September. And then the travel nightmares began…
1.) When we checked Into Orpheus Rooms in Mykonos, the landlady took my passport to make a photocopy of it for the hotels records. This is a standard procedure. Seth had been holding my passport for the ferry trip and handed the lady my passport when we checked in. The actual owner of the hotel was the son of the lady who took my passport, but he was out of town when we checked in. I was supposed to collect my passport when her son, George, returned the following day. As I mentioned before, we were only in Mykonos for 3 days; we all forgot about my passport and when we checked out George forgot to give it back.
Fast-forward to about 3 hours later. Avery, Seth, and I are en route to Athens when we realize my passport is still at Orpheus Rooms. We all freak out because our ferry gets in at 7:45 pm and we have a flight to Delhi the next day at 2:00 pm. I am basically having a panic attack and insist on speaking with one of the Blue Star Ferries officers. I figured that when the ferry dropped off some of the passengers at the next island, I would get off, take the next ferry back to Mykonos, get my passport, and head back on the next ferry to Athens. I start spitting out my plan at a mile a minute and the Greek officials tell me to slow down. I try again, but no one has any idea what I am saying.
Suddenly, this man comes out of the back office and saves the day. Nicolas suggests that we call George, have him rush the passport over to the Mykonos port, give the passport to the Hellenic Seaways officials on the high-speed ferry to Athens, and meet the Hellenic crew at the Athens seaport at 8:30 pm to collect my passport. Nicolas makes the phone calls to all the appropriate people, and I hold my breath all the way to Athens. At this point my stomach is in knots and I have a stress headache; I keep thinking, Am I an idiot? Who leaves their passport with people in a hotel? Do you really think you can handle the next three months in Asia? I was a mess.
I have to write a thank you letter to Nicolas and Blue Star Ferries, because at 8:30 pm I rushed onto the high-speed ferry and bombarded the nearest man in a uniform. I blurted out a, “HimynameisJessicaFigueroaandIthinkthecaptainhasmypassport. CanIyouhelpmeplease?” As soon as the man heard my name he called over his fellow crew members and a group of 5 men reunited me and my passport (which was locked away in an envelope, in a locked file cabinet, behind a locked gate). Everyone on the ship had heard my story and were almost as happy as I was to see my heinous passport picture. Crisis avoided.
2.) Although my scare was resolved, the curse was not over. We finally get on the subway and are on our way to Hotel Aristoteles. There is a group of four people who seem to be in a bit of a fight, so the three of us move out of their way. As the doors open to our stop, one of the men pushes into me and I snap, “We are all getting out at the stop so you don’t have to push!” I turn around and see that the same man and his 3 accomplices are pushing Avery around. She pushes the away and we continue on to the hotel.
For a brief second we check our backpacks and the zippers to make sure the crazy people didn’t try to take anything, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. Then we got to the hotel. Avery goes to get something from her bag and realizes that her wallet is missing. We rip apart her backpack and purse and it is nowhere to be found. Not only were her credit cards and money inside, but her passport, drivers license, and backup copies were all taken. In case you forgot, we were supposed to leave for Delhi the following day; needless to say, we postponed our flight.
Long, long story short, we head to the US Embassy, get Avery a temporary passport, and try to get her an Indian visa. The Indian Consulate isn’t as timely as the US Embassy and tells her that it will take 7 business days to process her request. Furthermore,in order to get to all of the places on our itinerary, Avery needs more than the 5-page temporary passport for all of our visas. She does the math and decides that a week in NYC to sort out all of her visa/passport stuff is more efficient than spending 9 days in Greece(the amount it takes to get an Indian visa, never mind the additional time it would take to get another Vietnam visa). So that’s where Avery is now.
Seth and I rearranged our flights and flew to Delhi the next day. I will pick up in Delhi in my next post.
1.) When we checked Into Orpheus Rooms in Mykonos, the landlady took my passport to make a photocopy of it for the hotels records. This is a standard procedure. Seth had been holding my passport for the ferry trip and handed the lady my passport when we checked in. The actual owner of the hotel was the son of the lady who took my passport, but he was out of town when we checked in. I was supposed to collect my passport when her son, George, returned the following day. As I mentioned before, we were only in Mykonos for 3 days; we all forgot about my passport and when we checked out George forgot to give it back.
Fast-forward to about 3 hours later. Avery, Seth, and I are en route to Athens when we realize my passport is still at Orpheus Rooms. We all freak out because our ferry gets in at 7:45 pm and we have a flight to Delhi the next day at 2:00 pm. I am basically having a panic attack and insist on speaking with one of the Blue Star Ferries officers. I figured that when the ferry dropped off some of the passengers at the next island, I would get off, take the next ferry back to Mykonos, get my passport, and head back on the next ferry to Athens. I start spitting out my plan at a mile a minute and the Greek officials tell me to slow down. I try again, but no one has any idea what I am saying.
Suddenly, this man comes out of the back office and saves the day. Nicolas suggests that we call George, have him rush the passport over to the Mykonos port, give the passport to the Hellenic Seaways officials on the high-speed ferry to Athens, and meet the Hellenic crew at the Athens seaport at 8:30 pm to collect my passport. Nicolas makes the phone calls to all the appropriate people, and I hold my breath all the way to Athens. At this point my stomach is in knots and I have a stress headache; I keep thinking, Am I an idiot? Who leaves their passport with people in a hotel? Do you really think you can handle the next three months in Asia? I was a mess.
I have to write a thank you letter to Nicolas and Blue Star Ferries, because at 8:30 pm I rushed onto the high-speed ferry and bombarded the nearest man in a uniform. I blurted out a, “HimynameisJessicaFigueroaandIthinkthecaptainhasmypassport. CanIyouhelpmeplease?” As soon as the man heard my name he called over his fellow crew members and a group of 5 men reunited me and my passport (which was locked away in an envelope, in a locked file cabinet, behind a locked gate). Everyone on the ship had heard my story and were almost as happy as I was to see my heinous passport picture. Crisis avoided.
2.) Although my scare was resolved, the curse was not over. We finally get on the subway and are on our way to Hotel Aristoteles. There is a group of four people who seem to be in a bit of a fight, so the three of us move out of their way. As the doors open to our stop, one of the men pushes into me and I snap, “We are all getting out at the stop so you don’t have to push!” I turn around and see that the same man and his 3 accomplices are pushing Avery around. She pushes the away and we continue on to the hotel.
For a brief second we check our backpacks and the zippers to make sure the crazy people didn’t try to take anything, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. Then we got to the hotel. Avery goes to get something from her bag and realizes that her wallet is missing. We rip apart her backpack and purse and it is nowhere to be found. Not only were her credit cards and money inside, but her passport, drivers license, and backup copies were all taken. In case you forgot, we were supposed to leave for Delhi the following day; needless to say, we postponed our flight.
Long, long story short, we head to the US Embassy, get Avery a temporary passport, and try to get her an Indian visa. The Indian Consulate isn’t as timely as the US Embassy and tells her that it will take 7 business days to process her request. Furthermore,in order to get to all of the places on our itinerary, Avery needs more than the 5-page temporary passport for all of our visas. She does the math and decides that a week in NYC to sort out all of her visa/passport stuff is more efficient than spending 9 days in Greece(the amount it takes to get an Indian visa, never mind the additional time it would take to get another Vietnam visa). So that’s where Avery is now.
Seth and I rearranged our flights and flew to Delhi the next day. I will pick up in Delhi in my next post.
Island Hopping Part II: Naxos, Santorini (Again), and Mykonos
I think I mentioned it in my last post, but Avery and I were getting restless in Santorini. When we originally planned the trip, we had intentions of working on one of the Greek islands (at a bar or restaurant)…we were thinking something along the lines of saving money and getting a firsthand look at Greek culture. (To be honest, I don’t think Greek culture is that different from American culture, but I’m currently in India and my perspective is drastically different). Anyway, we realized that working in Greece is impossible--due to visa requirements--and we wouldn’t make that much money; so, we ditched the work-in-Greece idea, but stuck to our one-month plan. One month is way too long, but I am sure you all realized that when I first mentioned that leg of the trip.
Okay, so Avery and I decide to cut our time in Santorini down and spend 2 of the nights on the island of Naxos. We picked this island because it’s known for its mountain villages, castle ruins, and tons of Byzantine churches. Fun? Boring? We didn’t know, but thought we’d take the risk. (I was totally on board when I read that the island had a well-known Mexican restaurant. I was getting sick of strictly Greek food). We hopped onto a ferry and within 2 hours were far away from Santorini.
Naxos really wasn’t any different than any of the other islands; it had tons of hotels and hostels, even more outdoor cafes, and a rental car dealer on every corner. On the first night, when we were heading out for Mexican food, Avery and I stopped into one of the rental shops and decided to rent what can only be described as a go-cart for our future mountain adventures. The “car” was a metal cage with an engine and 2 seats. That‘s about it.
The go-cart was impossible to drive. First of all, we were belted into harnesses, making it impossible to shift from drive to park or reverse without unbuckling. The gear stick (I have no idea what that’s really called) was incredibly finicky. When we tried to reverse the car would occasionally rev its engine and stall instead of moving. Finally, the brakes barely worked. We had a close call when we were driving down a hill and started to accelerate. I slammed on the brakes and just barely cleared a rock wall. I don’t think our 5 euro go-cart insurance policy would have covered the damage.
Back to Naxos. Avery and I researched and thought Chalki sounded like the perfect village. Lonely Planet (our travel Bible) described the town as small, historic, and famous for its Kitron*, jams and jellys, and authentic Greek cuisine. When we got to Chalki it was teeny tiny. The main square was roughly 10 feet by 20 feet and was crowded with Yassi’s Tavern’s tables and chairs. Since Yassi’s was the only restaurant in town, we had no other choice but to eat at the Tavern.
Yanni's/Chalki's "Main Square"
After lunch we went into the one gift shop, bought a pack of gum at the news stand, and explored the famous Kitron Distillery--it was a two-room “museum” with a few dusty bottles and a certificate of authenticity. At the end of our self-guided tour, a Kitron expert offered us a taste of Chalki’s finest drink. The bright green liquor was absolutely horrific. It tasted like a sugary lemon drop mixed with rubbing alcohol. I tried to politely smile as I gagged on the Kitron, but I’m almost positive the lady saw the disgust in my eyes.
We were finished exploring the village in an hour and decided to follow the walking tour suggested on one of the maps in town. As Avery and I walked down a lizard-infested path we stumbled across one of the Byzantine churches. I think it was called the Church of Agio Nicolas (which is what 90% of the churches in Naxos are named), but I can’t be too sure.
The Church of Agio Nicolas
It was built in the 12th century and was very small. After we circled the outside of the building, I got nosy and pried open the closed door. (It’s hours of operation were on Sundays, I believe, but the door swung open with ease). Inside there was a camera crew and a couple of stage lights; some art historians were shooting pictures for an upcoming textbook. They wouldn’t let us take pictures, but we were allowed to snoop around and look at the old frescoes that were painted on the walls and ceilings.
While the stuffy cameramen were distracted, I took a picture of the ceiling.
After we left Chalki we decided to try out another village; our plans changed, however, when we spotted signs for Zas Cave. We drove up narrow roads (with no guardrails) until we reached the middle of a mountain. Dressed in a tube top (Avery), jeans (me), and flip-flops (both of us), we decided to hike the trail up to Zas Cave.
Us in our hiking gear.
From what we could see, the trail was paved and had a slight incline. Easy enough, we thought. 30 minutes later we had hiked a mountain (and I mean hiked) and found the cave. It was small and really dark, but we poked around and then descended the very steep mountainside. We did a little more exploring, but the island seemed dead. I blame the month; mid-September is when tourists stop visiting the islands and head back to work, school, etc.
The ride home from the mountains was easily the worst part of our Naxan adventure. The temperature had dropped significantly and our go-cart didn’t have sides or a windshield. As we made the 2 hour drive home, Avery and I huddled together to stay warm and sang show tunes (and some early 2000 pop hits) to pass the time and ignore the fact that our teeth were chattering and our lips were blue. I think we were delirious at this point.
________________________________________
We got back to Santorini and had one more thing on our to do list: watch the sunset at Oia. According to every guide book and many other travelers, the sunset in the town of Oia is unparalleled. It is the only spot in all of the Greek islands (and all of Santorini) where the sun sets directly into the unobstructed the horizon. We knew that this was a popular activity among the Santorini set, but we weren’t prepared for the shoulder-to-shoulder traffic that blocked off most of the city. Although we elbowed our way into a good spot, we didn’t see the full sunset due to cloud coverage. The crowd didn’t seem to mind the less-than-perfect weather and everyone cheered when the sun finally set behind the clouds.
It was cheesy and touristy (obviously) but one of those things you have to do when in Santorini... I guess.
________________________________________
Jordan left us after Santorini and Seth, Avery, and I went on to Mykonos. Nothing too exciting happened during our three days there, but the island was my absolute favorite place in Greece. The beaches were beautiful, the town (especially the Little Venice quarter) was adorable, and I couldn’t recommend it more highly.
Okay, so Avery and I decide to cut our time in Santorini down and spend 2 of the nights on the island of Naxos. We picked this island because it’s known for its mountain villages, castle ruins, and tons of Byzantine churches. Fun? Boring? We didn’t know, but thought we’d take the risk. (I was totally on board when I read that the island had a well-known Mexican restaurant. I was getting sick of strictly Greek food). We hopped onto a ferry and within 2 hours were far away from Santorini.
Naxos really wasn’t any different than any of the other islands; it had tons of hotels and hostels, even more outdoor cafes, and a rental car dealer on every corner. On the first night, when we were heading out for Mexican food, Avery and I stopped into one of the rental shops and decided to rent what can only be described as a go-cart for our future mountain adventures. The “car” was a metal cage with an engine and 2 seats. That‘s about it.
The go-cart was impossible to drive. First of all, we were belted into harnesses, making it impossible to shift from drive to park or reverse without unbuckling. The gear stick (I have no idea what that’s really called) was incredibly finicky. When we tried to reverse the car would occasionally rev its engine and stall instead of moving. Finally, the brakes barely worked. We had a close call when we were driving down a hill and started to accelerate. I slammed on the brakes and just barely cleared a rock wall. I don’t think our 5 euro go-cart insurance policy would have covered the damage.
Back to Naxos. Avery and I researched and thought Chalki sounded like the perfect village. Lonely Planet (our travel Bible) described the town as small, historic, and famous for its Kitron*, jams and jellys, and authentic Greek cuisine. When we got to Chalki it was teeny tiny. The main square was roughly 10 feet by 20 feet and was crowded with Yassi’s Tavern’s tables and chairs. Since Yassi’s was the only restaurant in town, we had no other choice but to eat at the Tavern.
Yanni's/Chalki's "Main Square"After lunch we went into the one gift shop, bought a pack of gum at the news stand, and explored the famous Kitron Distillery--it was a two-room “museum” with a few dusty bottles and a certificate of authenticity. At the end of our self-guided tour, a Kitron expert offered us a taste of Chalki’s finest drink. The bright green liquor was absolutely horrific. It tasted like a sugary lemon drop mixed with rubbing alcohol. I tried to politely smile as I gagged on the Kitron, but I’m almost positive the lady saw the disgust in my eyes.
We were finished exploring the village in an hour and decided to follow the walking tour suggested on one of the maps in town. As Avery and I walked down a lizard-infested path we stumbled across one of the Byzantine churches. I think it was called the Church of Agio Nicolas (which is what 90% of the churches in Naxos are named), but I can’t be too sure.
The Church of Agio NicolasIt was built in the 12th century and was very small. After we circled the outside of the building, I got nosy and pried open the closed door. (It’s hours of operation were on Sundays, I believe, but the door swung open with ease). Inside there was a camera crew and a couple of stage lights; some art historians were shooting pictures for an upcoming textbook. They wouldn’t let us take pictures, but we were allowed to snoop around and look at the old frescoes that were painted on the walls and ceilings.
While the stuffy cameramen were distracted, I took a picture of the ceiling.After we left Chalki we decided to try out another village; our plans changed, however, when we spotted signs for Zas Cave. We drove up narrow roads (with no guardrails) until we reached the middle of a mountain. Dressed in a tube top (Avery), jeans (me), and flip-flops (both of us), we decided to hike the trail up to Zas Cave.
Us in our hiking gear.From what we could see, the trail was paved and had a slight incline. Easy enough, we thought. 30 minutes later we had hiked a mountain (and I mean hiked) and found the cave. It was small and really dark, but we poked around and then descended the very steep mountainside. We did a little more exploring, but the island seemed dead. I blame the month; mid-September is when tourists stop visiting the islands and head back to work, school, etc.
The ride home from the mountains was easily the worst part of our Naxan adventure. The temperature had dropped significantly and our go-cart didn’t have sides or a windshield. As we made the 2 hour drive home, Avery and I huddled together to stay warm and sang show tunes (and some early 2000 pop hits) to pass the time and ignore the fact that our teeth were chattering and our lips were blue. I think we were delirious at this point.
________________________________________
We got back to Santorini and had one more thing on our to do list: watch the sunset at Oia. According to every guide book and many other travelers, the sunset in the town of Oia is unparalleled. It is the only spot in all of the Greek islands (and all of Santorini) where the sun sets directly into the unobstructed the horizon. We knew that this was a popular activity among the Santorini set, but we weren’t prepared for the shoulder-to-shoulder traffic that blocked off most of the city. Although we elbowed our way into a good spot, we didn’t see the full sunset due to cloud coverage. The crowd didn’t seem to mind the less-than-perfect weather and everyone cheered when the sun finally set behind the clouds.
It was cheesy and touristy (obviously) but one of those things you have to do when in Santorini... I guess.________________________________________
Jordan left us after Santorini and Seth, Avery, and I went on to Mykonos. Nothing too exciting happened during our three days there, but the island was my absolute favorite place in Greece. The beaches were beautiful, the town (especially the Little Venice quarter) was adorable, and I couldn’t recommend it more highly.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Island Hopping: Part I, Santorini
Most of the hostels in Santorini are expensive, especially from June to September, so we were lucky to find Anny Studios on Perissa Beach. The hostel was reasonably priced and the pictures on its website made the place seem pretty big and clean (important qualities when traveling on a shoestring budget). HostelBookers.com even ranked Anny Studios one of its Top 10 Hostels of 2008. We were sold.
When we got to Anny Studios, our room (which was advertised as a four-person suite with a kitchenette and private bathroom) was more like a cave then a suite. It was dark, damp, and had a curved ceiling; the boys took the two lofted beds, because that’s where the bats lived. To add to our misery, the air-conditioning unit and TV didn’t work and the room smelled like stale sweat. The “kitchenette” was just a mini-fridge and a hotplate and it’s cord didn’t reach any outlets. (One night, when Avery and I tried to cook dinner, we had to put the hotplate on a wooden chair by the outlet nearest the bathroom. Mid-cooking the hotplate sparked, we heard a loud crack, and the power went out in our section of the hostel. Needless to say, we ate out every night). Despite the smoke and mirrors, HostelBookers managed to tell one truth: the hostel was actually 100 feet away from the beach. As a result, we spent many afternoons lounging on Perissa Beach, eating chicken gyros* and working on our tans.
*I overdosed and will never eat a meat-in-a-pita sandwich again. Ever.
Our schedule sounds lovely, and it was, but that's because up until this point we had perfect weather--between 80 and 90 and sunny with a breeze. It made avoiding the beach (even the gross Star Beach) nearly impossible. The hostel manager, Steve, jinxed our good luck when he casually mentioned that it hadn’t rained in 4 months on Santorini. The very next day we experienced a torrential downpour.
To be honest, I was thrilled; the unfortunate weather forced us to explore Fira/Thira (the names are interchangeable) for the day. And by explore, I mean that Avery and I had a delicious lunch, got pedicures, and window-shopped. We were of the mindset that Fira/Thira was posh, so we had to acclimate… despite the fact we hadn’t done laundry in three weeks. To end our girly day, we faked elegance and had a cappuccino and coffee in some fancy hotel.
The next day was sunny and we jumped right back into our routine; after dinner, however, we decided to head back into Fira/Thira to check out the nightlife. Per Steve’s suggestions, we were armed with a Post-it of the city’s best bars and all four of us were dressed to impress (read: stale-smelling and wrinkly outfits that we dug out from the bottom of our backpacks). We were styling.
To get to Fira/Thira you need to take a 30 minute bus. Like most transportation in Greece, the bus system in Santorini is sub par and the bus comes whenever it wants. So we get to the bus stop, conveniently located in front of the outdoor Bob’s Bar, and grab a drink while we are waiting for the bus. (The bar was somewhat of a dive, but it had cheap drinks and played 80’s hits making it an instant favorite). During our wait, I decide to strike up a convo with Bob (I presume he was the owner of the place) and convince him to let me DJ the next night. I spin some elaborate tale of my music knowledge and experience as a DJ and he gives me the job. In terms of a salary, he said he would give me free drinks all night long. I was slated to start the following night, but never showed up for the gig. I figured that being asleep by 11 was a more sound decision then pretending to be DJ Fig at an empty outdoor bar. I think we can all agree on that one.
Somewhere in the middle of our eight nights in Santorini, Avery and I hopped on a ferry to the island of Naxos. I‘ll get to “Part II: Naxos & Santorini, Again” tomorrow, in addition to our harrowing tale of forgotten passports, pickpockets, and how we managed to get stuck in Greece for 5 extra days instead of going to India.
When we got to Anny Studios, our room (which was advertised as a four-person suite with a kitchenette and private bathroom) was more like a cave then a suite. It was dark, damp, and had a curved ceiling; the boys took the two lofted beds, because that’s where the bats lived. To add to our misery, the air-conditioning unit and TV didn’t work and the room smelled like stale sweat. The “kitchenette” was just a mini-fridge and a hotplate and it’s cord didn’t reach any outlets. (One night, when Avery and I tried to cook dinner, we had to put the hotplate on a wooden chair by the outlet nearest the bathroom. Mid-cooking the hotplate sparked, we heard a loud crack, and the power went out in our section of the hostel. Needless to say, we ate out every night). Despite the smoke and mirrors, HostelBookers managed to tell one truth: the hostel was actually 100 feet away from the beach. As a result, we spent many afternoons lounging on Perissa Beach, eating chicken gyros* and working on our tans.
*I overdosed and will never eat a meat-in-a-pita sandwich again. Ever.
Our schedule sounds lovely, and it was, but that's because up until this point we had perfect weather--between 80 and 90 and sunny with a breeze. It made avoiding the beach (even the gross Star Beach) nearly impossible. The hostel manager, Steve, jinxed our good luck when he casually mentioned that it hadn’t rained in 4 months on Santorini. The very next day we experienced a torrential downpour.
To be honest, I was thrilled; the unfortunate weather forced us to explore Fira/Thira (the names are interchangeable) for the day. And by explore, I mean that Avery and I had a delicious lunch, got pedicures, and window-shopped. We were of the mindset that Fira/Thira was posh, so we had to acclimate… despite the fact we hadn’t done laundry in three weeks. To end our girly day, we faked elegance and had a cappuccino and coffee in some fancy hotel.
The next day was sunny and we jumped right back into our routine; after dinner, however, we decided to head back into Fira/Thira to check out the nightlife. Per Steve’s suggestions, we were armed with a Post-it of the city’s best bars and all four of us were dressed to impress (read: stale-smelling and wrinkly outfits that we dug out from the bottom of our backpacks). We were styling.
To get to Fira/Thira you need to take a 30 minute bus. Like most transportation in Greece, the bus system in Santorini is sub par and the bus comes whenever it wants. So we get to the bus stop, conveniently located in front of the outdoor Bob’s Bar, and grab a drink while we are waiting for the bus. (The bar was somewhat of a dive, but it had cheap drinks and played 80’s hits making it an instant favorite). During our wait, I decide to strike up a convo with Bob (I presume he was the owner of the place) and convince him to let me DJ the next night. I spin some elaborate tale of my music knowledge and experience as a DJ and he gives me the job. In terms of a salary, he said he would give me free drinks all night long. I was slated to start the following night, but never showed up for the gig. I figured that being asleep by 11 was a more sound decision then pretending to be DJ Fig at an empty outdoor bar. I think we can all agree on that one.
Somewhere in the middle of our eight nights in Santorini, Avery and I hopped on a ferry to the island of Naxos. I‘ll get to “Part II: Naxos & Santorini, Again” tomorrow, in addition to our harrowing tale of forgotten passports, pickpockets, and how we managed to get stuck in Greece for 5 extra days instead of going to India.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Two Days in Chania
After our little excursion to Anogia, Avery and I were on a “let’s get out of here” kick. We scoured her Lonely Planet guide book with the boys and settled on Golden Beach in Agio Nikolas, about an hour away from where we were staying. It had everything Star Beach in Hersonissos didn’t: white sand, turquoise water, a secluded cove, no signs or flashing lights. I was in heaven. There isn’t much I can say about our afternoon; we just sat by the water and relaxed. It wasn’t until we were on our way to the center of Agio Nicolas that things got interesting.
Golden Beach, Agio Nikolas
Avery was navigating the roads in our neon green Fiat Panda when we heard another car aggressively honking it’s horn. The two cars in front of us suddenly stop and turn off their engines and the driver of the first car jumps out and starts cursing her head off. She runs up to the window of the car behind her (and directly in front of us) and smacks the other driver right across the face. Now, Lady #1 (the smacker) is about 65 years old and has her two baby grandkids in the back seat. Lady #2 (the smacked, 25 year old girl) jumps out and goes after #1 and a full-blown cat fight breaks out in the middle of the road. In a matter of minutes a dress is ripped, hair is pulled, and #1’s glasses are snapped in half. Finally a police man breaks up the scene, but while this was going on a passerby peeks her head into our car window and mutters “Sometimes, this is just the Greek way.” (This is the Greek way? Really? I have a hard time believing her).
Agio Nikolaus Harbor
(I am not really into the transitions on this blog… basically the day after Agio Nikolas we left Hersonissos for good. We drove 3 hours to Chania and that is where I’ll pick up).
As I’ve mentioned before, I came on to this trip with an idealistic picture of Greece. I thought Greece was ancient and charming, but a lot of the buildings and cities we saw were more modern than I expected. When we got to Chania we were pleasantly surprised. The seaside village was absolutely adorable with its cobblestone streets, old buildings, and a lighthouse in it's center. We were staying in an old Turkish guesthouse right in the center of town that was owned by Lena, a middle aged lady whose uniform was strictly mini-skirts and high heels. She wasn’t the friendliest person we met, but she did offer a couple of restaurant suggestions.
The Old Quarter in Chania
On the first night we followed Lena’s lead and ate at Doloma. The restaurant was an actual hole in the wall; we walked past the place a few times before realizing it was tucked behind a seedy looking parking lot. As soon as we sat down, the hostess ushered us into the kitchen where the chef stood proudly in front of his pots and pans. One by one he lifted the lids to show us what was on the menu that night: rabbit stew, a green bean casserole, homemade mousakka, some sort of cod, etc. I settled on the rabbit (when have I ever ordered rabbit??) and it was amazing. Everyone enjoyed their meals, but the wine was gross.
Side note: the chef wasn't too keen on me snapping pictures,and tried to explain this in broken English, but I couldn't help myself. As a result, I got this poor picture of the appetizers.
(I’m going to take a moment to rant about the wine. Rumor has it that Santorini has some of the best wine around and since most of the Greek islands harvest grapes, I figured that the wine on all of the islands would be amazing. Absolutely not. Cretan wine--both red and white--tastes like nail polish remover with a hint of grape juice. It’s undrinkable.)
Seth, Avery, Me, and Jordan in Chania
I spent the few days in Chania wandering through art galleries, window shopping, and ordering Starbucks iced soy chai lattes. Greece isn’t exactly dairy-free friendly, so I gave in and went to Starbucks multiple times a day. I was even tempted to buy a jug of soy milk off of the barista, but figured that request was probably crossing some line.
The public transportation in Crete isn't the world's finest, which caused some problems when we were trying to leave Chania for Santorini. When we asked a travel agent how to get from point A to point B, we were fed something along the lines of, "The ferry system only runs from certain ports on certain days, but not on Wednesdays after 5, and never from Chania to Santorini, and the high-speed boats are 30 Euro more, but only at peak times, and we can book three of you, but not the fourth..." and so on and so forth. Basically, it was confusing and we had to backtrack to Hersonissos at midnight, sleep in the port, and catch an 8AM ferry to Santorini. Unbeknownst to us, the port closes at midnight and reopens at 6AM, forcing us to sleep outside like this:
Avery, on chairs in the outdoor cafe at the port.
The boys took turns guarding our stuff:
Seth and Jordan, being brave
We made it safe and sound onto the ferry and tomorrow I'll try and update with tales from Santorini, Naxos, and Mykonos.
Golden Beach, Agio NikolasAvery was navigating the roads in our neon green Fiat Panda when we heard another car aggressively honking it’s horn. The two cars in front of us suddenly stop and turn off their engines and the driver of the first car jumps out and starts cursing her head off. She runs up to the window of the car behind her (and directly in front of us) and smacks the other driver right across the face. Now, Lady #1 (the smacker) is about 65 years old and has her two baby grandkids in the back seat. Lady #2 (the smacked, 25 year old girl) jumps out and goes after #1 and a full-blown cat fight breaks out in the middle of the road. In a matter of minutes a dress is ripped, hair is pulled, and #1’s glasses are snapped in half. Finally a police man breaks up the scene, but while this was going on a passerby peeks her head into our car window and mutters “Sometimes, this is just the Greek way.” (This is the Greek way? Really? I have a hard time believing her).
Agio Nikolaus Harbor(I am not really into the transitions on this blog… basically the day after Agio Nikolas we left Hersonissos for good. We drove 3 hours to Chania and that is where I’ll pick up).
As I’ve mentioned before, I came on to this trip with an idealistic picture of Greece. I thought Greece was ancient and charming, but a lot of the buildings and cities we saw were more modern than I expected. When we got to Chania we were pleasantly surprised. The seaside village was absolutely adorable with its cobblestone streets, old buildings, and a lighthouse in it's center. We were staying in an old Turkish guesthouse right in the center of town that was owned by Lena, a middle aged lady whose uniform was strictly mini-skirts and high heels. She wasn’t the friendliest person we met, but she did offer a couple of restaurant suggestions.
The Old Quarter in ChaniaOn the first night we followed Lena’s lead and ate at Doloma. The restaurant was an actual hole in the wall; we walked past the place a few times before realizing it was tucked behind a seedy looking parking lot. As soon as we sat down, the hostess ushered us into the kitchen where the chef stood proudly in front of his pots and pans. One by one he lifted the lids to show us what was on the menu that night: rabbit stew, a green bean casserole, homemade mousakka, some sort of cod, etc. I settled on the rabbit (when have I ever ordered rabbit??) and it was amazing. Everyone enjoyed their meals, but the wine was gross.
Side note: the chef wasn't too keen on me snapping pictures,and tried to explain this in broken English, but I couldn't help myself. As a result, I got this poor picture of the appetizers.(I’m going to take a moment to rant about the wine. Rumor has it that Santorini has some of the best wine around and since most of the Greek islands harvest grapes, I figured that the wine on all of the islands would be amazing. Absolutely not. Cretan wine--both red and white--tastes like nail polish remover with a hint of grape juice. It’s undrinkable.)
Seth, Avery, Me, and Jordan in ChaniaI spent the few days in Chania wandering through art galleries, window shopping, and ordering Starbucks iced soy chai lattes. Greece isn’t exactly dairy-free friendly, so I gave in and went to Starbucks multiple times a day. I was even tempted to buy a jug of soy milk off of the barista, but figured that request was probably crossing some line.
The public transportation in Crete isn't the world's finest, which caused some problems when we were trying to leave Chania for Santorini. When we asked a travel agent how to get from point A to point B, we were fed something along the lines of, "The ferry system only runs from certain ports on certain days, but not on Wednesdays after 5, and never from Chania to Santorini, and the high-speed boats are 30 Euro more, but only at peak times, and we can book three of you, but not the fourth..." and so on and so forth. Basically, it was confusing and we had to backtrack to Hersonissos at midnight, sleep in the port, and catch an 8AM ferry to Santorini. Unbeknownst to us, the port closes at midnight and reopens at 6AM, forcing us to sleep outside like this:
Avery, on chairs in the outdoor cafe at the port. The boys took turns guarding our stuff:
Seth and Jordan, being brave
We made it safe and sound onto the ferry and tomorrow I'll try and update with tales from Santorini, Naxos, and Mykonos.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Cretan Way of Life
Everyone told me I would LOVE everything about Greece: the food, the beaches, the history, and more importantly, the wine. In fact, most people questioned why fabulous, picturesque Greece was even on my bug-infested, rough and tumble Asian itinerary. (I can’t answer that question. Avery and Seth planned the whole thing).
I gave Greece the benefit of the doubt when Athens was a bit on the undesirable side, but I had high hopes for Crete. After all, Crete is an island--a Greek island--and therefore (in my mind) it was supposed to fit the following description: beautiful beaches, friendly fisherman, and quaint seaside villages. Maybe if I did a bit more research I would have seen that Hersonissos, our home base in Crete, was the Greek equivalent of Seaside Heights on the Jersey Shore. I’m talking boardwalk and all. The place was gross. Really gross.
This is a picture of the coastline in Hersonissos. I know that it looks all nice and pretty, but this picture is deceiving.
The boys seemed pretty happy with their routine: 11 am wake up, 4 or 5 hour hang at the beach, dinner at a local restaurant, and then the dance clubs at night. I tried to put a smile on and feign interest, but by day 3 I was ready to go. Avery was having similar thoughts, so we decided to ditch the boys for a day and explore the lesser known villages around the island. We rented a car and headed for the hills to a teeny tiny town called Anogia. (Side note: I must give Avery credit. She isn’t a big fan of driving, but since our car was a stick-shift she was forced to take the wheel. I tried to provide emotional support, but that didn’t make the 367* hairpin turns any less treacherous. Thankfully we made it unscathed.)
Here I am, in all my touristy glory, on the windy road to Anogia. It probably wasn't the safest idea to stop for a photo op on a just-barely-two-lane road, with cliffs and hairpin turns...
We picked Anogia mostly because every guide book raved about its weddings. Every weekend the town holds a wedding and all 2000 citizens attend. Tourists are invited (and encouraged) to celebrate with the town and experience Greek culture firsthand. Of course the day we get to Anogia is the only day that a wedding isn’t going on, but I digress…
Anogia has one main road and it’s lined with small cafes and tons of outdoor seating. As Avery and I strolled along looking for a coffee shop we noticed that we were the only women on the streets. The only people in all of Anogia were black tee-shirt clad men with thick moustaches. (And aside from the 12-and-under crowd, EVERY man had the moustache and the black tee.) Later in the day women emerged from their homes, but they were also clad in black from head to toe.
The town didn’t look too exciting, especially since there wasn’t a wedding, so we decided to meet some locals and learn about the town. We met the owner of a coffee shop who told us that we were the first Americans he had seen all year. Some other townspeople told us that everyone wore black because the town for unity; Anogia was burned down during the World War II and the town wears black because it's still in mourning. We even came across some football (soccer) players who told us about the towns large mob population and then treated us to dinner. By the time 10 pm came around we found ourselves drinking coffee and Raki ** and discussing Anogia’s history with the head priest/mayor of the town, affectionately known as Papa. (Apparently he saw us wandering town earlier in the day, noticed that we were outsiders, and wanted to tell us exactly why Anogia was the best city in all of Greece. It was a great town, but the best? I think that’s debatable).
_________________________________
I will be more diligent about updating this blog, but up until Anogia, Greece just wasn’t that interesting. I am now in Santorini and heading to Naxos tomorrow, but will fill in the gaps when I get a chance.
-Jess
*A local in Anogia told us that there were 367 turns you have to make in order to reach the town.
**A local Cretan drink.
I gave Greece the benefit of the doubt when Athens was a bit on the undesirable side, but I had high hopes for Crete. After all, Crete is an island--a Greek island--and therefore (in my mind) it was supposed to fit the following description: beautiful beaches, friendly fisherman, and quaint seaside villages. Maybe if I did a bit more research I would have seen that Hersonissos, our home base in Crete, was the Greek equivalent of Seaside Heights on the Jersey Shore. I’m talking boardwalk and all. The place was gross. Really gross.
This is a picture of the coastline in Hersonissos. I know that it looks all nice and pretty, but this picture is deceiving.
The boys seemed pretty happy with their routine: 11 am wake up, 4 or 5 hour hang at the beach, dinner at a local restaurant, and then the dance clubs at night. I tried to put a smile on and feign interest, but by day 3 I was ready to go. Avery was having similar thoughts, so we decided to ditch the boys for a day and explore the lesser known villages around the island. We rented a car and headed for the hills to a teeny tiny town called Anogia. (Side note: I must give Avery credit. She isn’t a big fan of driving, but since our car was a stick-shift she was forced to take the wheel. I tried to provide emotional support, but that didn’t make the 367* hairpin turns any less treacherous. Thankfully we made it unscathed.)
Here I am, in all my touristy glory, on the windy road to Anogia. It probably wasn't the safest idea to stop for a photo op on a just-barely-two-lane road, with cliffs and hairpin turns...
We picked Anogia mostly because every guide book raved about its weddings. Every weekend the town holds a wedding and all 2000 citizens attend. Tourists are invited (and encouraged) to celebrate with the town and experience Greek culture firsthand. Of course the day we get to Anogia is the only day that a wedding isn’t going on, but I digress…
Anogia has one main road and it’s lined with small cafes and tons of outdoor seating. As Avery and I strolled along looking for a coffee shop we noticed that we were the only women on the streets. The only people in all of Anogia were black tee-shirt clad men with thick moustaches. (And aside from the 12-and-under crowd, EVERY man had the moustache and the black tee.) Later in the day women emerged from their homes, but they were also clad in black from head to toe.
The town didn’t look too exciting, especially since there wasn’t a wedding, so we decided to meet some locals and learn about the town. We met the owner of a coffee shop who told us that we were the first Americans he had seen all year. Some other townspeople told us that everyone wore black because the town for unity; Anogia was burned down during the World War II and the town wears black because it's still in mourning. We even came across some football (soccer) players who told us about the towns large mob population and then treated us to dinner. By the time 10 pm came around we found ourselves drinking coffee and Raki ** and discussing Anogia’s history with the head priest/mayor of the town, affectionately known as Papa. (Apparently he saw us wandering town earlier in the day, noticed that we were outsiders, and wanted to tell us exactly why Anogia was the best city in all of Greece. It was a great town, but the best? I think that’s debatable).
_________________________________
I will be more diligent about updating this blog, but up until Anogia, Greece just wasn’t that interesting. I am now in Santorini and heading to Naxos tomorrow, but will fill in the gaps when I get a chance.
-Jess
*A local in Anogia told us that there were 367 turns you have to make in order to reach the town.
**A local Cretan drink.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Athens Part 2
Just a little side note: Apparently the title of my blog is a bit misleading. Yes, I am backpacking through Asia, but that officially begins September 29th in India. Until then I am traveling around Greece. I thought "backpackingthroughgreeceandasia.blogspot.com" was way too long. (And to be quite honest, I am not exactly roughing it in Greece. To me, backpacking is what I am least looking forward to: bugs, dirt, and carrying 45 lbs of my stuff around on my back. In Greece I am showering daily and spending time on the beach.)
Our second day in Athens wasn't much different. The city did not get prettier or cleaner, the dogs were just as rabid, and the Acropolis was still standing. We had lofty goals of seeing the National Archeological Museum, the new Acropolis museum, and the actual Acropolis, but how many major tourist things could we actually do if we were still jetlagged?
We went to the National Archeological Museum first. The museum was filled with your standard statues, jewelry, pottery, and other relics, but one of the collections most prized pieces was the Mask of Agamemnon. It was kind of anticlimactic; slightly smaller than we pictured and surrounded by a similar looking death mask and other golden artifacts. I was more into the cartoonish, black-figure pottery. The boys were not interested in any of it.
The Acropolis was next on our list (we decided to skip the new Acropolis museum since we are coming back to Athens in 2 weeks). At the risk of sounding like complete cliche, it was really beautiful. The real Parthenon (which we never correctly identified) was enormous, pretty well preserved, and partially covered in scaffolding. I get that these crumbling buildings need to be restored, but something about a big metal cage wrapped around half of the columns kind of takes away from the picture-perfect idea that I had in my head. (I have pictures of all of these sights, but since I am working off some sketchy computer in an internet cafe, I can't upload them yet.)
After four-ish hours exploring the Acropolis we killed time by eating and then made our way over to the port for an overnight ferry (read: low-end cruise ship) to Crete.
As always, I am running out of time on the computer, but I'll add more when I can.
-Jess
Our second day in Athens wasn't much different. The city did not get prettier or cleaner, the dogs were just as rabid, and the Acropolis was still standing. We had lofty goals of seeing the National Archeological Museum, the new Acropolis museum, and the actual Acropolis, but how many major tourist things could we actually do if we were still jetlagged?
We went to the National Archeological Museum first. The museum was filled with your standard statues, jewelry, pottery, and other relics, but one of the collections most prized pieces was the Mask of Agamemnon. It was kind of anticlimactic; slightly smaller than we pictured and surrounded by a similar looking death mask and other golden artifacts. I was more into the cartoonish, black-figure pottery. The boys were not interested in any of it.
The Acropolis was next on our list (we decided to skip the new Acropolis museum since we are coming back to Athens in 2 weeks). At the risk of sounding like complete cliche, it was really beautiful. The real Parthenon (which we never correctly identified) was enormous, pretty well preserved, and partially covered in scaffolding. I get that these crumbling buildings need to be restored, but something about a big metal cage wrapped around half of the columns kind of takes away from the picture-perfect idea that I had in my head. (I have pictures of all of these sights, but since I am working off some sketchy computer in an internet cafe, I can't upload them yet.)
After four-ish hours exploring the Acropolis we killed time by eating and then made our way over to the port for an overnight ferry (read: low-end cruise ship) to Crete.
As always, I am running out of time on the computer, but I'll add more when I can.
-Jess
Monday, August 31, 2009
my big, fat greek introduction
Without being too harsh, let's just say Athens isn't my cup of tea. We flew into the city on Thursday morning and took a less than scenic drive to our hostel. I think the little building was actually a "hotel" but our room was 4 twin beds pushed up next to eachother with no walking space. I shouldn't complain, especially because the place was clean and had hot water--things that might be hard to come by when we are gallvanting around India.
After a lovely nap, we got all ambitious and decided to explore the city. The buildings are pretty modern (and my modern I mean not made of marble with porticos and massive columns, like I pictured). The streets were filled with fake bag vendors crazy motorcyclists, and seemingly rabid, homeless dogs. In terms of ruins, there were these glass pyramids with the city's dusty remains in them every couple of blocks, but nothing too spectacular.
After wandering through the Athenian streets, we remembered that we hadn't eaten all day and were starving. (I can't even go into the meal Continental tried to pass as food. I think it was some pasta-chicken-possibly-broccoli mixture, but the neon orange color had me baffled. I passed and opted for a dairy-free granola bar instead). Jordan, who makes friends everywhere we go, met a lady on the plane and got reccommendations for a restaurant in the center of the city. It was supposedly tourist-free and delicious. (Both were true).
After dinner we were wide awake and still on American time so we decided to climb the Acropolis and see what all the hype was about. Of course the Acropolis grounds were closed, but there is this little path that winds up 2/3 of the mountain along the gates of the grounds and it's open all day and night. The top of the mountain and all of the ruins were illuminated, which made it eady for a quick game of "Guess the Ancient Ruin." Despite the multiple Ancient Greek History, Art, and Literature the four of us took over the past four years, none of us could correctly identify the Parthenon. (Disclaimer: There are MANY massive stone buildings with enormous pillars and that are rectangular in shape in and around the Acropolis. I just think the overtired/new location combo had us confused...)
Nothing really exciting or hilarious happened on our hike back down the mountain/hill/whatever you want to call it. We ended up heading back to our hotel and sleeping off our jetlag.
I'll write more about visiting the Acropolis in the daytime, our bizarre boat trip to Crete, and my life in Iraklio next time I get the internet.
-Jess
p.s. spell check does on this greek computer highlights all of my english words. just excuse the typos.
After a lovely nap, we got all ambitious and decided to explore the city. The buildings are pretty modern (and my modern I mean not made of marble with porticos and massive columns, like I pictured). The streets were filled with fake bag vendors crazy motorcyclists, and seemingly rabid, homeless dogs. In terms of ruins, there were these glass pyramids with the city's dusty remains in them every couple of blocks, but nothing too spectacular.
After wandering through the Athenian streets, we remembered that we hadn't eaten all day and were starving. (I can't even go into the meal Continental tried to pass as food. I think it was some pasta-chicken-possibly-broccoli mixture, but the neon orange color had me baffled. I passed and opted for a dairy-free granola bar instead). Jordan, who makes friends everywhere we go, met a lady on the plane and got reccommendations for a restaurant in the center of the city. It was supposedly tourist-free and delicious. (Both were true).
After dinner we were wide awake and still on American time so we decided to climb the Acropolis and see what all the hype was about. Of course the Acropolis grounds were closed, but there is this little path that winds up 2/3 of the mountain along the gates of the grounds and it's open all day and night. The top of the mountain and all of the ruins were illuminated, which made it eady for a quick game of "Guess the Ancient Ruin." Despite the multiple Ancient Greek History, Art, and Literature the four of us took over the past four years, none of us could correctly identify the Parthenon. (Disclaimer: There are MANY massive stone buildings with enormous pillars and that are rectangular in shape in and around the Acropolis. I just think the overtired/new location combo had us confused...)
Nothing really exciting or hilarious happened on our hike back down the mountain/hill/whatever you want to call it. We ended up heading back to our hotel and sleeping off our jetlag.
I'll write more about visiting the Acropolis in the daytime, our bizarre boat trip to Crete, and my life in Iraklio next time I get the internet.
-Jess
p.s. spell check does on this greek computer highlights all of my english words. just excuse the typos.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
First of all, my apologies to everyone who I didn’t get a chance to see/call before I left. I was so busy fittng my life into a backpack, getting vaccinated, and renewing my passport. Per usual, I left EVERYTHING to the last minute and ended up taking my last Typhoid pill on my way to the airport.
So for those of you who are still in the dark (and there are a few of you), I am taking a 4-month long trip through Greece, India, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand. I’m traveling with two friends from Columbia, a 4500cu backpack (whatever that means), and a very low budget. If all goes as planned I’ll be back in the states around Christmas time, but Mrs. Carluccio is insisting that I return for her birthday on November 14th. In any case, I expect to come back with an empty wallet and a ton of stories, pictures, and videos.
Trying to fit my life into a backpack was a struggle. The bag itself is probably close to 3 and ½ feet tall and weighs 45 pounds (I blame the 120 dairy-free granola bars my mom forced me to pack. I‘m not kidding.) But in addition to my food supply, I am carrying a full pharmacy, a bunch of “disposable” Forever21 clothing, and the ugliest walking shoes you’ve ever seen. I think I'm all set.
Feel free to email or skype me (my ID is jessicaleighfig)!!
-Jess
So for those of you who are still in the dark (and there are a few of you), I am taking a 4-month long trip through Greece, India, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand. I’m traveling with two friends from Columbia, a 4500cu backpack (whatever that means), and a very low budget. If all goes as planned I’ll be back in the states around Christmas time, but Mrs. Carluccio is insisting that I return for her birthday on November 14th. In any case, I expect to come back with an empty wallet and a ton of stories, pictures, and videos.
Trying to fit my life into a backpack was a struggle. The bag itself is probably close to 3 and ½ feet tall and weighs 45 pounds (I blame the 120 dairy-free granola bars my mom forced me to pack. I‘m not kidding.) But in addition to my food supply, I am carrying a full pharmacy, a bunch of “disposable” Forever21 clothing, and the ugliest walking shoes you’ve ever seen. I think I'm all set.
Feel free to email or skype me (my ID is jessicaleighfig)!!
-Jess
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