India: Not for the Faint of Heart

May 31st, 2008

Several years from now, when we remince about our 6 month trip, I think that many of our most vivid and persistant memories will be the ones that we made these past two week in India. If we were at all getting tired of traveling, India changed all of that. Of all the places we have been, India by far seems the most untouched and in many ways, the most “real.” India has simply amazed us. I think that few people can travel to India and feel indifferent towards it.

India has also been full of many surprises. For one, we have been surprised at how poor most people’s English is. On the whole, we would say that it might actually be the worst of all the countries we have visited, despite the innumerable call centers located here. Also, whenever we have hit some kind of roadblock in the past two week, whether it be a canceled bus, an overcharged bill, or a taxi driver refusing to take us, and we have asked “why,” we have been met with blank stares. Originally, we simply figured that their English was weaker than we had presumed but as we spent more and more time here, we began to seriously wonder if the word “why” even exists in the Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi, etc. languages. In all seriousness, we don’t think a single person has actually given us an answer when we have asked “why;” they have only stared at us with blank faces and repeated our problem. To put it most buntly, not only have I ever seen so much bullshit and bureacracy before, I have also never seen so much complacency with a system that is infinitly inefficient by sheer design. Questioning authority or simply the status quo (or as many have suggested, the caste system) just does not happen. All of this has made for a wonderfully memorable time.

I can’t really call India backwards. It is so amazingly contradictory and dysfunctional that I can’t even find the words to describe it. In some ways, I think everyone should come to India once in their life to just experience how phenomenal this country is. It is one of only 9 countries to have nuclear weapons. Its pharmaceutical companies are responsible for producing close to 60% of the vaccines and drugs used in the developing world. It produces 8 times more engineering graduates per year than the United States. At 1.2 billion people, it is the world’s largest democracy. And yet, despite this impressive technological CV, it is mind blowing at how the most basic services and infrastructure are missing. Everything in this country is so inefficient we are seriously wondering whether the country was purposefully made this way, or just evolved in this manner. Frankly, it runs so deep that the latter is beginning to seem more unlikely by the day. And don’t even get me started on bodily excretions. Snot, spit, poo, and piss…India is not for the faint of heart.

Our first taste of India came to us at 4:00 in the morning, in the taxi from the Mumbai airport to our hotel. I have seen a lot of poverty traveling, but it has been more acute in Mumbai than anywhere else I’ve ever been. What is most interesting about it, I think, is the almost complacency of the city’s population with it. In most cities that have significant poverty, there often is a gentrified area where the city’s middle class live and then a few miles away, across some invisible barrier, is where the city’s poor live. Not so in Mumbai. As we drove to the hostel, we would pass by not homeless persons, but entire families sleeping on sidewalks. But they sleep outside ordinary shops, or as we later saw in the afternoon, even outside places like Louis Vutton. It is almost as if the middle class, sidestepping the emaciated bodies of the poor, perceive them to be permanent fixtures to the city’s demography and landscape.

We spent most of the first day’s morning recovering from our middle of the night flight. Since we had been drinking so much water to cope with the daily >115 Omani heat, I had to make a few bathroom trips in the night. Each time I would turn on the light, countless numbers of bugs would scatter down into drains or cracks in the wall. Unfotunately, Mumbai receives relatively few backpackers, so clean and cheap hostels are a bit scarse.

When we first looked at a map of India when planning our trip, we decided to land in Mumbai and travel by train to Varanasi. Unfortunately, at the time, two details terribly escaped us: the scale of the map and just how slow the nation’s trains move. So, rather than try to brave a three day rail journey, we opted to fly on one of India’s budget airlines, Spicejet. So, to make the best use of the 24 hours we had to explore Mumbai, as soon as we woke up and ate a small breakfast, we caught a taxi to the heart of downtown. There aren’t really too many sights per se in Mumbai so we spent most of our afternoon just walking around the central downtown area. The descriptions we read about Mumbai, about it being the heart of Bollywood, fashion, and commerce, made it sound like New York. We really found these descriptions to be a bit off, but we still can say that Mumbai has a definitive energy about it that is hard to explain.

When we were in Tanzania, we hesitatingly must admit that when we walked around, we were shocked by how many people we saw just sitting around. You would almost think that no one worked or something. Here in India, almost everyone seems to be rushing somewhere. But that doesn’t distract you from the poverty that you see. We’ve passed by individuals laying on the ground with so many flies swarming over their bodies we seriously wondered if they were alive or dead. And I can’t even count the number of people I have seen that more than likely have leprosy.

Though it has few sights, we enjoyed getting to rub shoulders with locals and just experience everything. For dinner that night, we found a wonderful restaurant where we got to order heapings of some of our most favorite Indian dishes, all for only about $4. Around 9:00 that evening, we took a taxi ride back to our part of town late at night and got ready for our flight the next day to Varanasi.

We had breakfast the next day at a very fashionable bistro called Le Cafe (once again, please appreciate the contradictions). After a slow and hot ride to the airport, we managed to work our way through the maze of checkpoints and checkins till we finally got on our SpiceJet plane that after a short stopover in Delhi, finally got us to Varanasi, one of the world’s holy cities.

A friend from LSU with whom I worked in the Cormier lab has been traveling in Southeast Asia for the past two months. Back in April, we realized that we’d be able to meet up and we planned to do so in Varanasi. As soon as we arrived at our hostel, the Maruti Guesthouse and Yoga Research Foundation, we found him waiting for us. It would prove to be a lot of fun to spend the next 24 hours with someone from back home.

The hostel, which was nothing more than a few spare rooms of a family’s apartment, was nice. They were really great at telling us where to go and what to see while we were in town. One of the first things we did was go down to the Desaswamedh Ghat where we saw the nightly ritual of Hindi holy men banging cymbals and burning incense in a celebration of thanksgiving to the Ganges River, which Hindus consider a goddess. Afterwards, Katie and I floated a candle on the river for Katie’s Aunt Jan. In the Hindi tradition, it is common to do this as a symbol of your loved one passing away.

The next day we went on a 5:00 AM river cruise on the Ganges. We got a fascinating look at how India looks early in the morning. Three images will remain burned in our minds- one of men milking cows in the middle of the street and another of a woman gathering cow dung and kneading it with her bare hands, like it was dough for baking. Despite being considered holy, the pollution in the Ganges is mind blowing. 400 million people live along the Ganges in India. And though I am unsure how much sewage and chemical runoff that the 400M dump in the river, the waste from Varanasi alone is appalling. The third image that we will keep from Varanasi was the scene of a boy openly defecating in the water, an elderly men bathing, children swimming with their mouths open, and a floating, rotting human corpse all within a few yards of each other. The river was something to behold.

Mark Twain wrote that “Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.” You can certainly feel this when you are here. In addition to the city’s importance for Hinduism, the nearby town of Sarnath is where Buddha arrived shortly after achieving enlightenment and remains one the four most important pilgrimage sites for Buddhists. We did a short 3 hour trip there in the afternoon.

During the day, the hostel arranged tickets for us to take a night train to Agra. Unfortunately, this also meant that we were unable to have a yoga session with the hostel’s owner/Yoga Research Foundation director, Dr. Maruti. The hostel warned us to arrive at the station two hours early. We were surprised by how full the train station was. We could barely walk through the central hall because nearly the entire floor was covered with people sleeping; individuals we presume were waiting for their train. We had an adventure getting on our train: We left the central hall 5 minutes before our train’s departure. When we arrived, the train wasn’t at the track it was supposed to be. Keep in mind, there are no boards at track level indicating what is supposed to be departing from there. Well, three minutes before departure time, I ran back to the central lobby to see that the track had been changed at literally the last minute. Sprinting down to the new track, the huge train had just started to move. Leaping on, we made it. Barely.

Overall, the night wasn’t too bad. Except for a few uncomfortabe stares we got, we slept fairly well, though the train had no sealed windows so we would get a bit covered in insects whenever the train would stop. 12 hours later, we arrived in Agra. Fortunately, someone from the homestay we had arranged was waiting to pick us up. We arrived on a Friday which proved to be a bit unforunate because the Taj Mahal, an Islamic building, is closed then. After long, hot showers, we went into Agra. If one looks at a map of India, Agra rarely makes it, despite having a population of well over 1.5 million peple. Just something to keep in mind when evaluating just how many people live in India.

We spent the afternoon exploring some city parks and discussing what we wanted to get out of India over the next 10 days. We realized that when we planned our trip 6 months ago, we didn’t really know where we wanted to go and just picked a few well-known touristy places. Well, we began to slowly realize that it was going to take us nearly 16 hours on a slow, lumbering train to get to Amristrar, our next planned destination. A holy city for the world’s Sikhs, we were interested in going but the ardous train ride that we would have to endure was making it seem really unpleasant. Instead, we spent a few hours on the internet and found two things that really appealled to us both- Corbett National Park and Nainital, a mountain town in the Himalayas close to the Nepali border. We reserved some train tickets and felt quite satisfied with ourselves.

On our second day in Agra, we caught a two-hour bus to Bharatpur, home to Keoladeo National Park. Upon arrival, however, we were really disappointed to discover that the park was closed for the month due to some sort of repairs the park administration was doing. Though no warning of the park’s closure was listed on the park’s website and despite our best attempts at pleading and subtle bribery, they refused to let us in (although dozens of locals, including children, were riding their bikes through the gates). We ended up birding along the edges of the park’s brick wall and snuck through the crumbling sections of it as much as we could. It was still a bit of a disappoinment because most of the outlying land had been cleared for development and not wanting to risk going too far into the park illegally, we finally agreed to give up and return to Agra. Upon arriving, we realized that we still had enough time to go see the Taj Mahal before dark and that is exactly what we did. Many people warned us that Agra’s touts are amongst the worst in India and we didn’t really find this to be true, until we arrived at the Taj Mahal complex. One of our favorites was the numerous men that approached us and promised to get us in the complex without having to wait in line, for a few hundred rupees fee. Observing other foreigners that took him up on the offer, I finally realized how he got people in without having to wait in line– two lines exist to enter the Taj Mahal, one for men, one for women. He merely goes to the front of the woman’s line, shoves the front few women out of the way with one hand, and with the other ushers the foreigners in. I’m sure some cash is exchanged between the police officer guarding the entrance and him. To say the least, we didn’t take him up on his offer. The Taj Mahal was everything we thought it would be, despite the huge masses of people and the trash. I should also add that the ratio of Indians to foreigners was likely close to 100:1.

Finally, at night we caught some dinner and went to bed early in preperation for our trip to Corbett.

Photos from Mumbai

Photos from Varanasi

Photos from Agra

Posted in India | 1 Comment »

Put on Your Dishdasha and Grab Your Khanjar!

May 30th, 2008

Oman was truly (and unexpectedly) one of my favorite countries, and here is why.

1. Friendly people. Never have I felt so welcomed and at ease. Everyone gave us help and directions with a smile. Prices at the souk were marked, and no one tried to rip us off. Taxi drivers would haggle with us but then cheerfully tell us about the town as they drove us around. People would come up to us just to say hi. It was really refreshing.

2. Sharp dressers. Oman has the coolest traditional costume of all the Arab countries. The men wear turbans and long robes called dishdashas with tassles at the collar, and traditionally they carry a knife with a bent hilt called a khanjar. The only time we saw this whole outfit was in pictures of the sultan, who also wore an elaborately embroidered robe, but everyday people would wear more casual dishdashas with turbans or fes-shaped cloth hats called kummah, and many would carry thin wooden canes called assas, which a taxi driver likened to “a nice suit” in America–in other words, somthing stylish.

3. Great food. The food was extremely cheap and very delicious. Most of it was Indian or Indian-influenced. There are a lot of immigrants here as well as in Dubai.

4. The Echo is the national car. For every two cars of any other make and model, I swear there was one Toyota Echo. The vast majority of the taxis were Echos. It was odd riding in a taxi that looked just like my own car.

5. The availability of Mountain Dew. (This one is for Tommy.) I don’t think we’ve seen Mountain Dew anywhere else, but Oman is apparently a Pepsi country and it was available everywhere.

Entering Oman by bus was an experience. We pulled over once on the hot desert road to line up and receive exit stamps for the UAE in our passports. Then we got back on the bus, drove a while, and stopped again. This time everyone had to retrieve their bags and lay them out open on a long table for a (rather cursory) customs inspection. We got back on the bus and drove further, to stop one more time at a lovely and new immigration building where we officially entered Oman. The whole process took about two hours. No wonder it’s such a long bus ride!

The immigration office is not the only new building in Oman. In fact, from what we saw, you would be hard-pressed to find an old one. We knew that, about 40 years ago, a new Sultan had come into power determined to modernize the country, but we had no idea he had done such a thorough job. Even in Dubai, where shiny new buildings are frequently springing up, it was still easy to find the older, crowded, dirty, crazy part of town. In Muscat we never came across it. Everything was beautiful and clean. Every roundabout had a big centerpice, like a fountain or statue. The city was filled with green space despite the hot, arid climate.

The only downside is that this modernization has made Muscat a very pedestrian-unfriendly city. It is virtually impossible to get around on foot–kind of like trying to get around most American cities without a car. Since taxis weren’t cheap but car rentals were, we decided to rent one for two days. We arranged for it the next morning, but it wasn’t available until evening.

In the meantime, we took a taxi to the large Mutrah Souk. This was probably the closest we came to matching the feel of the other Arab cities we have been to. We looked in some of the shops, but they were all closing until evening. This probably has something to do with the extreme heat. I think it’s safe to say that it was hotter in Muscat than anywhere else I’ve been…ever. I didn’t know it was possile to sweat so much or guzzle so much water. We walked to the coast and looked around, and then decided to take a taxi to Old Muscat to see some old forts.

When we arrived, the area was pretty much deserted. Again, despite its title of Old Muscat, everything except the historic forts perched on the cliff was shiny and new. There were beautiful gardens outside the governmental buildings. We read that the forts had been converted to museums, but when we approached a guard and asked if we could go in, he looked shocked and told us no. We asked about the museum, and he had no idea what we were talking about. Slightly confused and very hot, we ducked in to the only open restaurant nearby for a really delicious and cheap lunch.

We went back to the souk at the time it was supposed to open, but most shops were still closed. Our rental car was nearly ready so we decided to just go back to the hostel to pick it up. It was a Yaris, which we have both decided is not Toyota’s proudest achievement (why would they discontinue the Echo for a slightly less comfortable Corolla?) but it was nice to have the freedom to move around on our own, even if the air conditioner wasn’t working very well. We didn’t go anywhere that evening, but instead videoconferenced with our parents for a while.

The next day, Tommy had arranged to go diving iin the afternoon, while I was going to go birding. He opted to come with me in the morning. I had read online that the best place to watch birds in the area was Al Ansab Lagoon. The folks at the hostel didn’t know exactly where it was, but they pointed us to the general area and said once there to ask around. We did just that, but it didn’t work out as neatly as we hoped. People were happy to direct us, but we could never manage to follow their directions, continually getting lost in a maze of big homes under construction. Still others maintained that there was no water in the area (an understandable response…we were driving through really arid desert).

Eventually we had to give up so that Tommy would make his dive on time. He was going to drop me at the Al Q’urm Natural Gardens in the city, but they didn’t open until 4:00, presumably because of the heat. So he left me at my third birding location, which was somewhat ironically the Muscat Intercontinental Hotel. I read that the gardens there were a good place to start, there was a beach nearby, and hey, could you ask for a better place to walk in and use the bathroom?

I spent about an hour in the gardens and saw a lot of birds. Everything is always new when we move to a new part of the world. Unfortunately, the UAE and Oman were the only two countries for which I didn’t have a field guide. I basically used a combination of my Europe and India guides to try and identify the birds I was seeing.

I went down to the beach and walked along the coast for a ways, until the heat and sun became pretty much unbearable. I stumbled back to the hotel and got some water and a cold drink from a nearby shopping mall. In the mall was a bookstore with copies of Birdwatching in Oman and The Birds of Oman, so I discreetly looked up all the birds I had seen that day, and also procured directions to Al Ansab Lagoon. Looking at them, suddenly the locals’ directions made sense.

I took a cab back to the gardens and waited a few minutes for them to open. They were really nice, although pretty deserted. I saw a few more birds there before Tommy met me at 5:30. He had a great time diving with the Oman Dive Center, just ouside of town. He saw two big turtles and some huge eels. It was a good day for both of us. Even though we were both dirty and tired, we went to mass and then to a little local restaurant with some really wonderful food. It felt great to shower and collapse into bed–the heat can really drain you.

The next day we headed back towards Al Ansab, but stopped on the way at the Grand Mosque just before visiting hours ended. This immense mosque is the third largest in the world, and contains the world’s largest single-piece rug and a Swarovski crystal chandelier. When we walked in, I literally gasped. It might be one of the most beautiful buildings I have seen yet on this trip. It was absolutely spectacular.

We continued on in search of Al Ansab Lagoon, and with my hastily copied map, we found it easily. Unfortunately in the heat of May it was little more than a few puddles and some large stands of thirsty-looking plants. During winter there is more water, and there are lots of migrants that come through. We spent a little time wandering around and I saw a few birds, but to be honest, the head was positively unbearable. It was so hot that our thermometer hit 120 degrees and then maxed out. Even the birds were panting. We both decided it would be prudent to head back. It was a time when we really wished our car’s air conditioning was working.

Luckily, Tommy had the perfect remedy for the midday heat. The Oman Dive Center has its own private beach with a pool and restaurant, and for a few rial we could have access to it all. After a couple of cold beers and a plate of fried calamari, we lounged on the beach in the shade. When the dive class finished with the pool, we swam for a while and went in the gulf water as well. It was the perfect way to beat the horrible midday heat.

The last thing we did in Muscat was return to the souk in the evening, when everything was finally open. It was a souvenir-shopper’s paradise. I’ve never seen so many fun and fascinating objects: khanjar and other knives, scroll-shaped message cases, antique seal rings (some bigger than your entire hand), tiny boxes, lots of jewelry and small figurines, incense, traditional clothing, and more. Unfortunately, Oman is proud of its silver, and insists upon making everything out of it. This made pretty much everything we liked too expensive for us to afford. But it was fun to look.

Photos from Muscat

Posted in Oman | 4 Comments »

A City of Superlatives

May 24th, 2008

One place Katie and I were really curious about seeing was Dubai, a city that we have heard described as “a city of superlatives.” For better or for worse, we certainly found that to be true over the four days we were there. Unlike in Amman, where governmental officials seemed quite stiff, the immigration officers in Dubai were relaxed, a bit portly, and the young features of my officer were only further emphasised by the braces on his teeth. All of this, along with the endless Blackberry ads that lined the arrivals gate, made us feel right at home. Over the past few weeks, in many of the cities we have visited, we have been amazed that we have actually found our hostel. That is because they often just give the street on which they’re located, but do not provide a number or even a cross street. (The directions rarely include anything more than “located in downtown.”)

So when the airport bus dropped us off at its terminal station on Al Sabka, the same street that our hostel was located on, we had no idea where to go! But after asking about a half dozen people for directions, and averaging their replies, we manged to find it. We were so exhausted from walking in the 105+ heat though we ended up taking a bit of a nap and waiting until dusk to attempt venturing out again. I read several months ago in an article in Geographic about the huge numbers of migrant workers that are responsible for building the amazing skyscrapers that Dubai has become famous for. Similarly, I recently read a statistic that only 17% of the UAE population is composed of its own citizens. I’d certainly believe that judging from the areas we saw; it seemed to be composed overwhelmingly more of Indians than Arabs, though interestingly, they seemed to be mostly Muslim. We were still a bit exhausted so our night walk didn’t carry us too far. We also got to see the city’s famous “gold souk,” a huge conglomeration of nearly identical jewelry stores selling gold and diamonds in nealy every style or design imaginable. Quite sweaty by the time this was all over, we treated ourselves to a huge pitcher of a “mixed cocktail,” a juice drink composed of blended strawberries, kiwis, mangoes, banana, and papaya before we finally retired for the night.

Dubai is a very interesting place. Though it is well known across the globe, I doubt few people can name a famous Emirati artist or politician. It is a city known for it money and its excesses. I often found myself wondering, if all the wealth and the materialism are stripped away, what IS Dubai?

The first thing we wanted to settle on our second day in Dubai was our bus ticket to Muscat. We found ourselves on a bit of a wild goose chase, as when we arrived at one station, we would be told we were at the wrong one, and would be sent to another. Usually, someone would tell us to take a taxi to the “Omani Bus Station” but aside from that advice, no one actually knew were this station precisely was.

 After wasting several hours running around stations, we ended up deciding to head to the Mall of the Emirates, one of the few “sights” in Dubai, and just leave the tickets to the last minute. Using the Dubai’s bus system reminded us again of Dubai’s many strange ironies. It is a city that contains the world’s largest malls, the tallest buildings, and from what I’ve seen, likely the most Hummer dealerships per square mile anywhere. But the complete failure of the state to provide a similar state of the art infrastructure for its working poor is quite shameful. We got to experience this firsthand by using the public bus system. It is likely the worst public transport system of any global city we’ve ever visited. Over the three days we stayed, we waited between 30 minutes to once as much as 2 hours for a bus to show up. The public transportation map, plastered with mission statements and company visions, sounds like it was written by someone who has never actually ridden on a bus.

Nevertheless, after about a 3 hour odyssey across the city, we finally arrived within a mile of the Mall of the Emirates. To further emphasize how tacky we found Dubai to be, I’d like to mention that the mall contains the world’s largest indoor ski slope. Though I can not imagine how much cheap Emirati oil is being used to create a ski slope in the middle of the Arabian desert, I would like everyone that is paying $4 a gallon back at home to know, I boycotted the ski slope for you. Katie and I did have a fun time in the mall. We got to plop down in a Borders to read up on worldly events (and look at a wedding magazine or two). We also went into furniture stores and began planning how to decorate our new apartment (We just signed a lease on an apartment off Cleveland Circle!) We also walked into a Harvey Nichols store and saw what an $8,000 dress looks like– it was actually quite tragically ugly.

By the time we exited the mall to the time we stepped back into our hostel, well over two hours had gone by. Dubai is a lot like many American cities. There is a central downtown that is mostly used by businessmen during work hours and many of the other sites are distanced far apart, making bus travel quite lengthy, both in terms of waiting for the bus itself and making so many stops on what is already a long distance. Tired and quite mesmerized by how so much of the day had flown by, though we had not really done all that much, we headed to bed and decided to spend the following day at the beach and perhaps visit a few more iconic landmarks. We woke up with a little bit of stomach trouble the next morning. It was a bit ironic that it was off the American food that we ate in the mall! During the last few countries we have visited in the Middle East, breakfast has always included hard boiled eggs. Same has been true here in Dubai, though it has also included some interesting sides such as baked beans and hot dogs, like we had his morning. Before we went out to the bus stop to take us to one of Dubai’s public beaches, we thought it would be fun to go to the top floor of the Hyatt Regency and try to see if we could make out “The Palm Diera” that is currently under construction. An unprecedented amount of dredging has been required to build them. Everyone from marine biologists, to scuba divers, to fanatical environmentalists has complained about the incredible ecological damage that these artificial islands have created. It’s also a bit creepy, in a 1984 kind of way, that no one calls what they’re doing dredging, but “land reclamation.” Well, we were blown away by what we saw– even on the 20th floor, you can’t even make out what you’re looking at. It’s absolutely enormous and terribly tacky.

After waiting at a bus stop, a bus finally arrived and we took off to spend the day relaxing on the beach. The beach was actually in a very controlled area, where you had to pay an entrance fee. We thought it was a little strange, but at the same time, the beach was quite nice with lots of huge palm trees planted for cover. After spending a sufficient amount of time at the beach, we thought we’d head out and try to find a late lunch as we were quite hungry and the hostel’s breakfast that morning of baked beans and shriveled hot dogs didn’t quite hold us over long enough. Unfortunately, outside the beach was just a small strip mall and hardly anything more for miles. And the only restaurant in the strip mall was a Chili’s, so shamefully, we went in for a light snack. What was amusing was when we ordered some dip the waiter told us that it was made “manually;” that it wasn’t cooked in the United States but in their own kitchen. What was not so amusing was the way our tummies felt a few hours later. Two days of American food, two days in a row of feeling ill. (Yet as as I write this after having spent the last 5 days in India, we have yet to get sick once.)

We had hoped to go see the Burj al Arab hotel, the only self-declared 7 star hotel in the world, but the “Welcome Center” kept us from going to see it. We planned to catch a bus back to the hostel, but after waiting for 2 hours, we decided simply to split a taxi to the Gold Souk with an equally frustrated Canadian couple. Exhausted after a long day in the heat, we returned back to the hostel and slept till well into the next morning. We spent our final day in an Internet cafe before boarding a mid-afternoon bus to Muscat. Actually leaving was a bit of an adventure than we had anticipated because the official government bus broke down right before we were to leave, so we had to get a refund, and run to the private bus before everyone else got on it. Though it was more expensive and a bit more dirty, it still managed to get out around the time we had originally planned.

Photos from Petra

Photos from Wadi Rum

Photos from Dubai

Posted in United Arab Emirates | No Comments »

Lawrence Would be Proud

May 20th, 2008

By the time we arrived in Jordan and napped to make up for lost sleep on the flight, we only had a few hours to explore Amman. It struck us a little bit as Cairo had, very big and not overwhelmingly touristy. We were able to enjoy some very cheap falafel sandwiches and juice, and wander the streets until evening.

The next day, we caught a mini-bus to Petra. The buses wait to leave until they are full, so we ended up sitting in the bus station for some time. After that it was a three hour ride. Petra is a small town made big by the presence of the archaeological site, best known for its appearance in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. We visited it in the afternoon.

It’s a short taxi ride to the outskirts of town where the entrance to the ruins is located. There are several souvenir and snack stands and lots of men offering you horseback rides. Admission is really pricey, about $30 a person. Once inside the gates, there is a long walk down a dirt road lined with increasingly higher hills. There are a couple of tombs carved into the rock, with obelisks and columns. After some time, you descend into a narrow canyon, with steep rock walls. Towards the end, you can see the famous Treasury building peeking through the canyon walls. When you emerge, you are treated to a truly spectacular site. The carvings are mostly in excellent condition, and it was much larger than I ever thought. Definitely deserving of the title of one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

From the Treasury, the canyon continues to widen and wind. There are several little restaurants and souvenir shops, little more than tents against the canyon walls. The sides are peppered with carvings and buildings in the rock, including a Roman theater. Most of them are not in the same shape as the Treasury building, but they are still really spectacular. It’s a lovely walk.

Eventually the wide canyon ends at a steep stairway carved into the rock which leads up into the hills. There are many people offering donkey rides (“Taxi?” they ask) but we opted to hoof it ourselves. The day was growing late, but there were still a few other people making the climb as well. It was fairly arduous, but worth it. At the top, there is another spectacularly carved building, a monastery that could easily be the Treasury’s equal. Walking a little farther from there affords some beautiful views of the rocky mountains and the desert beyond. All in all, the scenery alone would have made the trip worth it, and the carvings only made the visit even better. Petra was truly a wonder to behold.

The next day, we arranged a tour to go out to Wadi Rum, a desert about an hour and a half away from Petra. We rode there with two other American tourists who had a rental car. The desert is a popular tourist destination from Petra, and it seems like they are really trying to do it right. There is a beautiful visitor’s center where you pay a small fee to enter. Then you drive a little further to the small town of Wadi Rum. Our guide met us and took us to his house, where his wife served us some delicious tea and we saw his three adorable small children. His living room was furnished with cushions lining the walls where we sat and sipped our tea.

We got into the back of a truck specially fitted for these tours with benches and a covering. Then we drove out to some of the desert’s popular sites. It is famous as the place where T.E. Lawrence was based during the Arab Revolt, and many of the sites have connections to “Lawrence of Arabia.” It is not a flat open expanse of sand, but a desert filled with rocky hills and cliffs. We stopped first just on the edge of the village, where some steps had been chiseled into the stone. A winding path took us to a freshwater spring dripping out of the mountain. A little enclosure had been built around it.

From there we drove out of town. The paved road suddenly ends, and then there are no roads to follow. We wound our way through the sand, around the tall cliffs. Some were smooth, others choppy and steep, and still others looked like the rock was dripping down them like liquid. We stopped at one rock with old carvings chiseled into it. Above this rock was another spring, apparently one which is mentioned in Lawrence’s autobiography. But it was an arduous climb to the top, and our small group opted not to try it. We did climb up an immense sand dune, which provided some wonderful views and the opportunity to clamber around the rocky tops of the mountains. After a lunch of falafel sandwiches, we continued to see more rock carvings, the remains of a stone house where Lawrence stayed, and a tall rock bridge. We climbed up the rocks in order to get on top of it. It wasn’t a very easy task, but it was fun getting to the top.

Our two friends were heading on that evening, but Tommy and I had arranged to stay in a Bedouin camp that night. There are several campsites set up around the desert for this purpose. Our guide dropped us off and directed us to another spring across the desert which we could walk to. The camp comprised of several large black tents, furnished inside with rugs, mats, and cots. There was one open tent where we ate which was lined with cushions and had a firepit in the center. The whole camp was nestled up against a mountainside to provide shade, but the inside of the tents were still steaming hot in the sunlight.

We made the trek across the desert to the cliff our guide had indicated, and found the spring. When we returned, we had some more really wonderful Jordanian tea and then climbed up another cliff to watch the sunset. Unfortunately, as evening set in, clouds began to cover the sky. We couldn’t see the sunset or the stars, two of the things we were looking forward to the most. We still enjoyed our campout. The night was actually a little chilly, but the next day dawned sunny and warm again.

We caught a bus back to Petra to collect our packs, and then another bus to Amman. It was from there that we would fly to Dubai the next day.

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The Holy Land

May 17th, 2008

Of everywhere we have been so far, Israel is easily going to be one of the most fascinating places. Its history and its relationship with the rest of the world are singularly unique, and we were both curious to see how this was reflected in its culture. Israel is a country only 60 years old, populated by disparate peoples who came from all over the world, speaking a language which, 150 years ago, was still used in an almost entirely liturgical sense. Even though we felt completely safe while walking the streets, the knowledge of the close and persistent tension between the Israelis and the Palestinians could be a little disconcerting. The way it has become such an accepted part of everyday life in a place which is in many ways not outwardly very different from the United States was unnerving. It can be summed up in the frank response of an employee at the tourism information office when we asked how to get to Bethlehem (“I don’t know–if I go there, they’ll kill me”). Because everyone must serve in the military, the streets of Jerusalem were filled with teenagers walking around heavily armed. We would watch incredulously as 18-year-old girls in army uniforms and flip flops would walk by with an automatic rifles in one hand and popsicles in the other. We doubt that this casual attitude is doing much to help the situation…but perhaps that is a discussion for another time.

Political commentary aside, we can say without hesitation that Israel is being added to our list of favorite destinations. The area has an inescapable sense of antiquity and holiness, one which we think any visitor, whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or not even religious,  can easily sense.

The nearest airport to Jerusalem is Ben Gurion in Tel Aviv. We arrived in the middle of the night, oddly upbeat. We went up to the customs window together and requested that our visa stamps be put on a separate piece of paper, not in our passports. While we don’t have any intention of travelling to them in the near future, several countries which have a problem with Israel’s existence will not allow entry if you have an Israeli visa stamp in your passport. The customs agent complied without hesitation, as this is surely a typical request; however, we couldn’t help but wonder if it is a little depressing to them to admit person after person who does not want any record of their visit. 

Our arrival into Jerusalem was almost magical. The late night shuttle bus from the airport dropped us off around 4 am just inside the Jaffa Gate. The walls surrounding the city look ancient, and we stared up at them with a sense of enchantment when we thought of them holding off Crusaders and Muslim invaders. We had to walk through the winding pedestrian alleys to reach our hostel, and they were dark and silent. The streets are smooth, slippery stone and are often covered by the criss-crossing of buildings and elevated walkways around the city. Turning down a couple of alleys and climbing a few stairs brought us to the Citadel Hostel. The lobby looked like the interior of a cave, made of low-ceilinged ancient brick covered over in rough plaster. We wondered how old the building was. A tired employee brought us to our room and we slept well into the morning.

When we finally woke up, we made some coffee and explored the hostel. The bottom half looks very old, but the top half had clearly been subsequently added. We climbed up to the roof, which also serves as the cheapest dorm. Stepping over a couple of matresses, we were given a spectacular view of the old city. There, right in front of us, was the Temple Mount with the Dome of the Rock, and behind that, the Mount of Olives. To our left was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. And in between, the winding, confused streets of Jerusalem.

We headed out eagerly to explore the city. We headed first to the Temple Mount. The quiet alleys of the night before had been transformed. The shops had opened up and spilled their wares out into the street, and the tiny paths were so packed with people that it was difficult to move much faster than a slow walk. We were happy to note that we were rarely heckled or hassled. We arrived at one of the entrances to the Temple Mount to be told that it was closed for prayer. Though it took some investigating to figure it out, we uncovered that the only time non-Muslim visitors are allowed is between 7:30-8:30 and 1:30-2:30. The Western Wall is always accessible, but there is heavy security and there was actually a significant line. So instead we decided to venture to the Lion’s Gate and walk the Via Dolorosa.

It is important to note how much of the religious and historical significance of the designated Biblical sites in Jerusalem needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Many of the traditional sites were designated by Constantine or the Crusaders, and it is not known whether they really correspond to historical locations. We realized early on that it is vitally important to keep this uncertainty and mystery in mind, or else all of the doubts and lack of evidence will quickly leave you jaded if you try to take it at face value.

Our first walk down the Via Dolorosa was surprising. We had always imagined that such a holy route would be packed with pilgrims, but we saw very few. They were far outnumbered by locals going about their usual business. The street stretches from the Lion’s Gate to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and is actually a winding path with several turns. There are chapels which mark each station of the cross, most run by different religious sects or orders. They were frequently empty. There are other landmarks as well, such as two houses claiming to be the birthplace of Mary (“The Catholics believe it is next door,” explained the Greek Orthodox minister with a hint of a smile). This was our first experience with something that is a source of real conflict in the Holy City–division of holy places between the different Christian sects. Since it was getting late and some churches were closing, we paused after the third station to visit the place which demonstrates this better than anywhere: the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

Before this trip, we had both pictured the church which supposedly contains both Golgotha and the tomb of Jesus a harmonious, holy place. Our first indications that this was not the case came from an unusual source: an essay by Stephen Jay Gould in The Lying Stones of Marrakech about competitive exclusion. He compared competition between different religious sects in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to species competing to fill the same ecological niche. The metaphor was not far off. The church is literally divided between six religion sects: Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Armenian, Ethiopian, Syrian, and Coptic. The agreement about who has what is called the Status Quo, and it designates specific areas of the church in which members of each sect can practice and live.

The result? Nothing short of chaos. The church itself is hard enough to find, buried in a maze of alleys not even easily located when one is following the Via Dolorosa. It does not appear to be a magnificent structure, although it is impressively large. It is nestled within the surrounding buildings, almost looking as if it does not stand on its own. Nothing inside is labeled or indicated, but everyone seems to know what they are looking at. We saw countless rituals and ceremonies we never knew existed, all revolving around holy sites and artifacts that we could not identify.

When we walked in, the first thing we saw was a stone in the ground, lit by candles and incense burners, surrounded by women in scarves. They were on their knees, placing all sorts of candles and other religious objects on the stone, and rubbing their scarves in its every nook and cranny with surprising urgency. We later found out that this is called the stone of the anointing, and is supposedly where Jesus’ body was prepared for burial. We believe the women were Armenian. We found more of the Armenian section of the church when we turned to the right, to a curving corridor off which there were many small chapels. We were stopped by some priests who said there was a service going on, and we could hear chanting around the bend.

Also near the stone of the anointing were some stairs which lead to the site of Golgotha itself. There was some kind of service going on there as well, so we only took a peek before heading back down. To the left of the stone is the large domed room under which contains the edicule, a small building inside of which is the tomb of Jesus (we don’t want to continue using the word “supposedly” before all of these sites, but do keep in mind that a lot happened between Jesus’ time and the time of Constantine). There was an immense line to get in, which we weren’t prepared to wait in. We were quite confused by this point, as we had not yet identified any of these things and had no guide other than Wikipedia, so we decided we would return later and go inside then. The edicule is in a portion of the church which belongs to the Greek Orthodox church, and was decorated accordingly, with incense burners and lamps hanging everywhere. People would bring candles up to light them at a fire buring next to the chapel and then extinguish them–we never confirmed it, but we think this may be related to the ceremony of the Holy Fire performed by the Greek church there.  The Catholics and Armenians also have the right to have mass in the tiny chapel, but the Coptic church was forced to create a small altar behind the structure for their own services.

We explored the rest of the church and found other chapels which we only later identified, such as the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea and the site where Constantine’s mother, Helena, uncovered the true cross. When we found Catholic territory, we knew it immediately. The rough stone floor of the Greek Orthodox section gave way to a square of black and white tile with an altar decorated in a modern style. We took a seat at a pew to rest, and suddenly were surrounded by a group of Franciscans and Italian tourists in the middle of a service, singing and praying in Latin. From somewhere up above, a loud organ would play along to their songs, and when it quieted their prayers were almost overpowered by a group of Greeks chanting in the next room.

We were able to attend an Italian mass with the same group, in a place called the Crusaders’ Chapel, only accessible through the Fransican sacristy. After that we decided to leave and come back with more information. The church was fascinating, but not the holy site of pilgrimage we expected. There was more a sense of chaos and animosity, and even neglect. Portions of the church  look like they have not been cleaned or even glanced at in years. It is as if everyone cares only for their own section, and anything not explicitly divided falls by the wayside. The division has become ingrained into religious practice, as each sect seems to consider especially holy those sites and artifacts which fall within their “territory,” and their rituals have grown up around this.

The next day, we went to the Western Wall early to beat the crowd. We got through security quickly, but it was still packed with people. There were even several groups celebrating barmitzvahs. There is a divider which separates the men and women at prayer, so we separated. Tommy had to borrow a kippah to cover his head. It was a struggle to reach the wall through the crowd of people, but once you reached it and put your hands on it, surrounded by others fervently in prayer, there was a great sense of peace and hope about it. The nooks and crannies between the stones were packed with papers, and we left our own intentions there as well.

Since it was still too early to ascend to the Temple Mount, we completed the Stations of the Cross along the Via Dolorosa. The chapels were usually empty. Tour guides would lead visitors around outside, pointing them out as tourist attractions, not religious sites. We did pass one Polish group praying the Stations of the Cross as they went.

At 1:30, we returned to the Western Wall to get in line for the Temple Mount. We had to go through security again. We were able to see the Dome of the Rock, which is an impressive and beautiful structure. We felt a little uncomfortable while we were up there, however; a few people gave us almost hostile stares, even though we were careful to adhere to the rules of dress and conduct. We have been to many mosques which were welcoming to visitors, but this area was not one of them. We were not allowed in the Dome at all.

Afterwards, we returned to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, better-read on the many things it contained (check out the article on it, which contains a floorplan and detailed description). We went up to the site of Calvary, where there are both Greek and Catholic altars. Beneath the Greek altar is a hole where you can, on your knees, put your hand through and touch the smooth stone of the hill itself. The line for the edicule was even longer, so we decided to return in the morning. We found another door which led up into the Coptic and Ethiopian sections of the church. There are some chapels and a monastery, and some homes on the roof as well.

The next day, we went back to the church first thing, and waited in line to enter the edicule. Inside the tiny was a stone slab lit by candles and incense where Jesus’ body is said to have lain. Everyone had about a minute to kneel and pray before an Greek Orthodox minister roughly ordered them out.

Our next objective was to go to Bethlehem, but as I mentioned before, the Jewish tourism information office could not offer much help as it is in the West Bank. At the Chrisitan information center nearby, however, a little nun assured us it was completely safe and directed us to a bus. The journey was indeed safe and easy. We were dropped off a short walk from the Church of the Nativity. It is also a Greek Orthodox church, under which is the cave where it is believed that Jesus was born. There is a Catholic church next door, under which are more caves where St. Jerome translated the bible into Latin. We purchased a wooden nativity set as a souvenir. The people there were very friendly, and we received practically no glances or stares; we were very glad we had been able to visit “the little town of Bethlehem.”

The next day, we took a bus to Ein Gedi, on the Dead Sea. Entering the bus station is much like entering an airport– all of your bags must get screened and you must walk through a metal detector. Several soliders, fully armed, rode on the bus as well, but it is possible that they might have simply been returning home. Ein Gedi itself is a little resort area with a couple of restaurants and facilities, and a designated area for swimming. It was so much fun. The sensation when you first get in is so unique and wonderful that we would watch people from the water as they cautiously stepped off the shore, just to see the look on their faces as they found themselves floating. The only problem is, you’d better not get any in your eyes. Just touching a wet finger to your tongue made your whole mouth burn. The shoreline was caked with salt, and the water left your skin feeling slimy and slick. We had a great time floating around.

We spent our last day in Jerusalem walking around the Mount of Olives. There are many more churches and shrines there: a small olive tree grove said to be the remnants of the garden of Gethsemane, and a lovely Catholic church nearby; a Russian Orthodox Church of Mary Magdalene with bright golden domes atop it; a Greek Orthodox Church containing the tomb of Mary; a Catholic church called Dominus Flevit, with a window behind the altar overlooking the whole of the old city; and no less than four shrines of the ascension on the top of the mount, including one Muslim shrine and a Lutheran church, the first real Protestant presence we have seen in the city. They all charged admission, unlike most of the sites in Jerusalem. There is a fantastic view of the Old City from above the Jewish cemetery which covers a huge portion of the mount.

That evening, we caught a bus to Tel Aviv. We arrived there at quite possibly the saddest-looking hostel we have ever stayed at… not anywhere we would want to spend more than a night. We went walking along the coast, and weren’t terribly impressed with the city. But we think our opinion might be biased as we were seeing it after a day of Independence Day celebrations. Israel was celebrating its 60th anniversary (according to the Hebrew calendar at least; on the Gregorian it falls on May 14th, hence the President’s recent visit), and there was trash everywhere left over from the excitement.

Our conclusion? We would recommend Israel as a definite vacation destination. Jerusalem was a perfect combination of the enchanting ancient city of sights and culture and the modern outskirts filled with shops and restaurants. The Dead Sea is not to be missed, and Bethlehem is just one of the many biblical sites a religious pilgrim can visit. There is something special about this area, and everyone seems to feel it–perhaps that’s the reason why it has been the source of so much strife and conflict.

Pictures from Israel

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Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

May 12th, 2008

Our arrival to Istanbul was quite interesting. Our hostel was located in clearly the backpackers’ district and as we walked down the street trying to find our hostel, we were “fished” by a lot of hostel owners trying to get us to stay at their place. We were even harassed by our own hostel staff: “Hey! hey! You guys need cheap rooms?” The irony was that when we actually went up to them and told them we had a reservation, they weren’t sure if they even had room for us! Fortunately, we took the last two beds they had.

Our first day was spent just walking around and taking in the sights. Our hostel was located literally just around the corner from the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, so before we really headed deep into downtown, we had plenty of time to gaze at both of these two landmarks. We also explored the Grand Bazaar, a huge labyrinth of more than 4200 stores, and after having fully exhausted ourselves of hawkers, we visited an area known as Beyoglu, Istanbul’s posh and expensive district. We finished the afternoon in a cafe in the Sultanahemet district, drinking Turkish coffees and reading. For lunch we had gotten some kebabs that had filled us up quite a bit, so for dinner we only got some simit “pretzels” and ate them in front of the Blue Mosque. It is worth mentioning that every time we left the hostel, we had to pass by one particular rug shop. Months ago, we had considered purchasing a genuine Turkish rug, but we later began to connect the dots on their prices when we noticed that hardly anyone was ever in the stores but yet the pushy salesmen all wore very expensive looking suits. When we walked by this particular evening and got invited in yet again by the owner, we decided to take him up on the offer, but made it very clear to him that unless he had rugs a student could afford, we wouldn’t be buying one. He still happily agreed to show us some of his rugs and explain how the prices run. The $200 ones he had were a bit unfortunate looking, but the ones that ran for $5000 (and more) were truly exquisite. We thanked him for showing us the rugs, promised to return in 20 years or so, and retired to the hostel to enjoy some beers with the other hostel guests.

Our first day in Istanbul pleased us very much. It was also much more European than we had expected it to be. The area we were staying in though, less than 100 meters from the Hagia Sophia, was extremely touristy and a bit classless we must admit. We would often pass by a restaurant and hear the owner yelling at us, “Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!” No, we didn’t drop or lose anything. That was simply what he did to get people to stop and look at his menu. (It can be a terrible recipe for making one distrustful.) Our first stop the next morning was the Hagia Sopha. When the Republic of Turkey was established in the early 20th century, the Hagia Sophia was officially closed as a mosque and after extensive renovations, reopened as simply a museum. Originally commissioned by Emperor Justinian in 532 AD, it was for almost a millennium the largest indoor structure in the world. After Constantinople’s fall to the Moslems, it was converted into a mosque and remained that way till just about 100 years ago. Fortunately, the Turkish sultans covered up the Christian mosaics with only plaster, so many of them can be seen again today. (In our pictures, please ignore the huge tower of scaffolding in the center–extensive rennovations are still going on.) That morning, we also visited the Basilica Cistern, an impressively large underground reservoir built by Justinian as well. We picked up some Turkish delights and cherries in the spice market, and returned to the hostel for some more reading before taking a late night walk.

The first thing we wanted to do the following morning was visit the Blue Mosque, across from the Hagia Sophia. Several months ago, when we were in Cairo, we were a little disappointed with the cleanliness of the mosques that we visited. Though they were supposed to be the most important religious buildings in Egypt, we found the carpets to be really dirty and threadbare. When we entered the Blue Mosque, however, we were awestruck. We loved the way the plush, clean, and beautiful carpet filled our toes. Also, note how huge the supporting columns are. Afterwards, we walked across the Golden Horn to the Galata Tower but returned to the hostel a bit early so that we could finalize some details regarding the final days of the trip. We had been a little disappointed by Turkish street food and this hostel had no kitchen so we were unable to cook the yummy pasta sauce that we bought in Athens. So for dinner that night we went to a place called Kafe Ara in Beyoglu whose food both looked and tasted beautiful. Before going to bed, we spent the final hours of the night speaking with some Brits about their travels in Australia, a stretch we had been forced to change around a bit.

Though the afternoon of our final day was spent purchasing plane tickets for Southeast Asia, we spent nearly three hours that morning in the Topkapi Palace. I try to use the word amazing sparingly when describing anything whilst traveling, but as far as palaces and castles go, I would say that this complex certainly merited it. Its treasury collection was the most beautiful of any I have ever seen and the buildings and furniture in the Harem were also exceptionally impressive. After visiting spending several hours at Topkapi, we went back to the internet cafe, and then after we got some dinner early in the evening, we headed to the airport to catch our 11:30 flight to Tel Aviv.

Photos from Santorini

Photos from Istanbul 

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Christos Anesti!

May 6th, 2008

It may sound silly to say that Tommy and I needed a vacation from vacation, but that’s really exactly what we intended when we booked four days in Santorini, Greece. While being in big cities filled with museums and ruins means rushing around to see everything and walking constantly everyday, a small island filled with nothing but wineries and beaches ensures a few days to sleep in and take it slowly.

How we found Santorini is a bit of a story in itself. It’s actually a very typical tourist destination in Greece, perhaps the most commonly visited of all the Greek isles, but we did not know that until we arrived. At home, when deciding where to go in Greece other than Athens, I asked Tommy, “You know those pictures you always see of blue-domed, white churches against the sea? Can we go where those are taken?” A quick Google search located Santorini, and our decision was made.

We arrived early in the morning by ferry, and our hostel picked us up from the dock. It was run by an extremely friendly couple. Since we were so early, we didn’t have beds yet, so we left our luggage and went out walking.

Santorini is a small island with a few little towns. It’s shaped like a crescent, the result of a massive volcanic eruption around 1600 BC. It left a steep cliff face on the inside of the crescent, called the caldera. It displays lovely layers of different sediments, revealed when the eruption cut away the island rock. We stayed in Fira, the largest town on the island. It is positioned on the caldera’s edge, with beautiful views and many homes and resorts perched precariously on the cliff. We walked along a path that hugged the side of he caldera, looking down into the porches and swimming pools of the hotels steeply below. The streets were quiet, almost deserted. Spring is not as touristy as summer for the island, but cruise ships frequently dock in Fira and drop off loads of vacationers. It’s worth noting that unlike the dock at Athinios where we arrived, the only ways up to the island proper from the Fira dock are by foot, by cable car, and by donkey.

Still, it was too early in the morning for cruise passengers or other tourists to be roaming the streets, and no souvenir shops had yet opened their doors. We enjoyed the quiet, narrow paths around the town. We spotted some of the famous blue-domed churches and managed to find vantage points from which we could snap some good photos. And we had what we understand to be a typical Greek breakfast of cheese pies.

Once our room was ready, we basically collapsed and slept for a good bit of the afternoon. We ventured back out in the evening for a dinner of souvlaki, a vegetarian pita, and tsatziki, to buy some groceries, and to see a little more of Fira.

The next day, we rented a 4-wheeler to get around the island in, as do lots of younger tourists. It was a great way to go. We set off to see some of the island’s many beaches. First we drove down to Kamari, a black sand beach. Unfortunately it was a little cloudy and chilly, certainly not warm enough to enjoy a beach properly. On our way out we paused at a winery and tasted some of their wines. Apparently most of the grapes grown on Santorini are varieties that will not grow anywhere else. Santorini has a unique soil and climate. The grapes are grown close to the ground, not supported by any kind of trellis. They weave the vines in a ring to protect the fruit from the wind, and most of the water comes from fog and not rainfall. They mostly produce whites, both dry and sweet. For the sweet wines, they leave the grapes out in the sun for weeks before juicing them. At the wineries we visited, they still stomp grapes the old-fashioned way for some of their wines, with bare feet! They don’t export much because the vineyards are small operations. Our favorite white at this winery was the Santorini, and we bought a small bottle.

Next we drove to Pyrgos and up to the highest point on the island. It’s occupied by a monastery and a military base. The view was nice but not extremely photogenic, as the day was growing cloudier. We were unfortunate enough to catch Spain and Greece during an unusually cold and rainy bout of weather. Still, we could see both tips of the island’s crescent shape, and the in-between of vineyards, fields, and terraced hills, graced by charming little homes and buildings.

Unable to find a cheap take-away sort of place like the day before, we stopped at a bakery and bought a huge loaf of piping hot bread for lunch. Then we headed for beach number 2, Perissa, an even lovelier black sand beach in the south. We rode its length, and on the way out find a great little fish tavern tucked away from the road called Paradisio. We went for dinner, but unfortunately they didn’t have most of what was on their menu (one of the downsides of being on the island during a non-touristy time).We made a good meal out of assorted Greek appetizers and really enjoyed it. Santorini has some culinary specialties, including fava, and fried tomato balls seasoned with mint. They were especially good.

The next day was Sunday, so we went to the Catholic church in Fira. Outside, a paper was posted with mass times that said that it was Easter Sunday. This was a little confusing or us. We knew it was Greek Orthodox Easter (usually held the week after Roman Catholic Easter, but on some years for astronomical reasons it is nearly a month later) because there were a lot of Greeks vacationing on the island for the holiday. But we both distinctly remembered being soaked to the skin at the Vatican on Catholic Easter Sunday. Before mass started, the priests came around to all the tourists, handing out some papers about this canonical inconsistency. Because the majority of Christians in Greece are Greek Orthodox, all of the secular calendars follow their schedule as far as work holidays, etc. Because of this and the fact that many families are mixed Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic, the Catholic church in Greece obtained special permission to celebrate Easter on the same day as the Greek Orthodox Church. So, as the priest put it, “Two Easters for you!”

When we emerged from mass, it was raining. We groaned, because we had already renewed our ATV for a second day, and it was clearly now going to be pretty useless. It was late afternoon before the clouds finally cleared. We hopped eagerly on the 4-wheeler and drove north to Ia, one of the most picturesque towns on the island, known for having one of the most beautiful sunsets in the world. We bought some tsatziki and bread and went out to watch it. The sky turned a lovely pale pink color, but the sun and the rest of the show were unfortunately hidden behind the remnants of rainclouds. We resolved to go back the next day.

We started the day with a trip down to one last beach, the Red Beach. It was really unique and lovely. We stopped at another winery, but weren’t nearly as impressed with their wines as with he first place we visited. After lunch in Fira, we went back to Ia to see it during the day. There are two roads that will take you there from Fira, one low along the coast and one high in the hills. They both offer spectacular views. We spent some time in an internet cafe, mostly looking at Boston apartments and calling realtors, before returning to Ia one last time for dinner. Most of the restaurants overlooking the caldera are overpriced because you are paying for the view, but we somehow stumbled across the perfect one in Ia. The food was spectacular, the view was perfect, and the price was affordable. Full and happy, we finished the day with another sunset, this time with barely a cloud in the sky to block the view, and it really was gorgeous. A crowd gathered to watch it, and applauded after the last sliver of the glowing orange disk slipped below the horizon.

We had to pack up and move out of our room the next morning, but had a few more minutes to walk around Fira before heading to the airport. It’s a tiny little place on the island. We took a prop plane to Athens, where we had a four-hour layover before our flight to Istanbul. We spent it browsing the duty free shops, which put out free samples of some of their Greek products, including olive pate, cake, wine, and chocolates. The stores should know better than to put these things out when there are hungry backpackers around with time to kill. We even got to try some ouzo, a Greek liquor made from anis. We had been meaning to get some our entire time in the country and had never done it until then. Some folk may remember them drinking it in My Big Fat Greek Wedding… we tried to avoid references to that movie, even though it was the full extent of our knowledge of Greek culture prior to this trip, but it came on Greek TV on Easter Sunday so we figure they must have liked it too.

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Our Big Fat Greek Blog

May 1st, 2008

Though we had to rush a bit to catch the Athens flight from Madrid, we were relieved that the flight itself went by very smoothly. In fact, we even got a meal on board the plane, a treat that we had admittedly begun to miss after having flown almost exclusively on budget airlines in the past 2 months.  We were a little bit surprised, however, to discover what great lengths the airline took to keep us from getting upgraded to first class. When we boarded the aircraft, we got excited when we realized our seats were in the last row of the first class section. Our excitement quickly faded to bitter defeat when soon after an airport technician boarded the plane, disassembled the dividing curtain between first and second class and then reassembled it right in front of us. The arrival to our hostel went well, too. In preparation for the 2004 Olympics, the city improved a lot of its infrastructure so just like in Madrid, we were able to take a subway from the airport all the way to our hostel without really having to walk really at all.

Though a little bit pricey, our hostel’s location can not be beat. When we finally arrived at the subway stop that was nearest to our hostel, the first thing we saw was the Acropolis and the Parthenon looming above us! Once we had settled into our room, we decided to go for a night walk around the Acropolis and the Placa district, since it wasn’t too late and we had after all spent most of the day in airports and airplanes. We were constantly being reminded that we really are sleeping in the center of the ancient city. In Athens, much like in certain sections of Rome, archaeological sites are cordoned in empty spaces amongst a mess of chaotic buildings. On the edge of the ruins of the Ancient Agora lay a McDonald’s and rows of shops selling nearly identical tourist merchandise. We ended the night with some baklava in our room and turned in early in preparation for a fantastic two days of visiting ruins.

A few years ago, a law was passed in Greece that forbade travel agencies from earning commission from the sale of ferry tickets. One of the many net results of this policy was the decline of the ferries’ websites. When we tried buying tickets over the computer, literally every company we tried gave us some error. So we had to spend about an hour during our first morning visiting with a travel agent to get an overnight ferry to the isle of Santorini. Once we had taken care of that, however, we went to go visit the Temple of Zeus and Hadrian’s Arch. Much like in Madrid, sites here were pretty inexpensive for students: $9 for a multiday pass to all of Athens’ ancient sites, and completely free for EU student citizens.

We had heard that the view from Mt. Lycabettus (one of the 8 hills of Athens) was spectacular, so we headed there next via the city’s gardens. We also passed by the Greek tomb of the unknown soldier. The guards in front of it wear traditional costumes and do a very elaborate (and actually a little goofy) march. Once we arrived at the base of the very steep Mt. Lycabettus, we rode a funicular to the top of the hill. We spent about 30 minutes at the top taking in the view of the city’s many ruins and the Mediterranean.

We decided that before we entered the National Archaeological Museum, we’d fare better if we first got a quick lunch. We had been craving some spinach pies so that was precisely what we got, along with two frappes, another Greek invention of frothed Nescafe and milk, to drink on our way from the mountain to the Museum.

It is worth mentioning at this point that adjacent to the National Archaeological Museum is the Polytechnic Institute. Katie and I planned to scour this area in the hope of finding a cheaper restaurant that we could dine at when dinner came. As we drew closer to the Museum, we were dismayed by how much expletive graffiti we saw on one particular marble building. About as high as one could reach with a can of spray paint, the wall was covered with symbols and mottoes of fascists, socialists, anarchists, racists, and xenophobes. We soon realized that this building was the university.

After passing its length, we turned north because our map seemed to suggest that the entrance to the museum was located at its east side. After walking no less than 10 yards or so, we knew we must have made a wrong turn– the street was filled with dozens of individuals, some staggering drunk, others leaning against the university building drooling, and others sitting asleep with vomit pooled on their shirts. We’re pretty sure that amongst the 30 or so people on this street, we could have counted on one hand the number of people who weren’t high. We also noticed a statue in the center that had been defaced with graffiti. We later learned that it was a statue dedicated to students who led the protest against the military junta that ruled Greece in the mid 70s. We walked as quickly as we could back to the main road. Once we got back, we then saw the official sign marking the entrance to the National Museum. Entering the museum complex, however, we were a bit surprised once more. There were dozens of homeless people asleep in the weed-filled grassy courtyard of the museum and like on the nearby street, lots of men drinking and smoking in the shade. To make matters worse, we learned that the museum had closed at 3:00 PM. Since it already half past four, we decided to go instead and visit the Ancient Agora.

Though much of it was classic “ruins,” ie piles of rubble, we were very impressed with the Temple of Hephaestus. Though we could not actually enter it, it was the best preserved of all the ones we saw in Athens and really lent an evocative perspective into what all of these temples really looked like. When the complex closed at six, we headed back to the hostel for a quick nap before going to a laundromat to make our clothes fresh once again. For dinner that night, we returned again to the heart of the gritty downtown and got quick carryout portions of gyros and fried goat cheese. After consuming it at the subway entrance, we returned once more to the hostel and retired for the night. Unfortunately, we both woke up quite a bit through out the night feeling very itchy and although we had had a few mosquito-looking bites the first morning, on the second morning we were all but covered in them. We later realized that they were due to sand flies, which are unfortunately ubiquitous to all of Greece.

We started the next day a bit earlier so that we could get a head start on the Acropolis. We had been told that amongst the marble ruins it could be quite hot; all the warnings we received ended up being quite true. Though the temperatures were pretty cool and crisp in the city, as soon as we ascended onto the top of the mountain we couldn’t believe how steamy it felt. In addition to seeing the Parthenon, we also got to see the Theatre of Dionysus. Visitors are even allowed to enter the theatre itself, sit in it, and imagine what it must have been like 2000 years ago. Another theatre nearby had recently been “restored” and apparently performances are put on there frequently.

After we had exhausted the archaeological sites, we decided to go to the Museum once more. This time, however, the museum was open and we were able to see its extensive, though somewhat esoteric, collection of ancient artifacts. On our walk home, we stopped by an English bookstore that we had briefly been in the day prior and bought a couple of books, as it seems that we will both be out of reading material before the trip is over. Our night ferry was leaving at 8:00 PM from the port of Athens, and following our lesson in Madrid when we had to rush to make it on board, we returned to the hostel around 4:00 so that we could cook dinner and eat it in comfort.

Our ferry ride over to Santorini was unremarkable except to say that it was quite underbooked, so even though Katie and I were supposed to stay in separate single-sex couchettes for the ride over, both our rooms were empty so we were able to switch early in the night and get a fair amount of sleep before we arrived the next morning at 6 in the port of Santorini!

Photos from Athens

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Bocadillos and Tapas

April 26th, 2008

We were thrilled to learn while flying from Barcelona to Madrid that Madrid was indeed one of those magnificently well-planned cities where for a mere $2.00 one could take a subway from the airport and arrive within 100 yards of their hostel in less than 45 minutes time.

Due to our flight being slightly delayed, we did not arrive to our hostel until a bit past 11:30. Much to our happy surprise, however, Madrid stays up much later than Barcelona and so finding food at that late hour was not difficult. We went a to fashionably decorated, though unoriginally named tapas bar called “tapasbar” before turning in for the night. We were a bit disappointed to learn the next morning that Madrid was in the middle of an unusual bout of rainy weather. Since that day’s downpour had already started, we decided that our first activity of the day would be to check out the Museo del Prado so that we could hopefully save the outdoor activies for days with better weather.

Though we did have to wait about 30 minutes to enter, we were thrilled to learn that EU students could enter for free and American student admission rates were only 3 euros. We were really struck by many of the paintings in the early rooms. Though neither of us were familier with the artists, they were exceptionally moving, even graphic at times. We had a list of masterpieces that we wanted to see and we saw them all, I believe. My favorites naturally were three of the most well-known paintings in the museum: Velasquez’s Las Meninias, Van der Weyden’s Descent from the Cross, and Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights.

For lunch we ate a wonderfully crummy hole-in-the-wall bar and ordered bocadillos de calamares con salsa brava, or fried calamari poboys with hot sauce. Since they were only three euro each, we ended up ordering two bottles of San Miguel beer as well. Since the weather had improved, we spent the rest of the day walking around the old town and finding a nice cafe/bar where we could go and read at night.

To save some money, we went to a grocery store and bought some bread, cheese, and tomato/olive oil sauce so that we could make some light tapas for dinner. While in the store, we both commented how it would be a bit sad leaving Spain because it won’t be until Australia that we’ll be in a country where the native language is one we can understand. Though we have been remarkably successful thus far at pointing and showing fingers, there is just something pleasureable about being able to tell someone, correctly and eloquently, what you are trying to say. After dinner, we headed over to Arca, the cafe/bar we had picked out earlier that day, where over a pitcher of sangria we read books an began to draw out a few ideas we’ve had about how to make better travel gear.

Sunday morning began at an English-speaking mass in north Madrid. One of the priests invited us to stick around after mass for donuts and coffee and we had the chance to speak to him. A native of San Francisco, he is a Jesuit who was assigned to Madrid as he continues to work on his doctorate.

After mass, we took a subway to a part of town a bit closer to where we were staying so that we could go see el Rastro, the weekly Madrid flea market. Though we hardly ever see anything we would really buy at these sorts of things, Katie did buy a headband to keep her hair out of her face. For lunch, we entered a crowded cafe next to the market to grab another bocadillo (swiftly becoming our favorite Spanish snack).

We got to take advantage of a tip from a local after lunch. Less than a hundred yards from our hostel was a place called the San Gines Chocolateria, whose speciality is chocolate con churros, or hot chocolate with churros, a fried, tubular, beignet of sorts. Needless to say, it was delicious. Ingesting so much sugar in such a short period of time made us quite sleepy though, so we took a short nap in our hostel before we went over to the Museo Reina Sofia, which is currently putting on almost all of the major works from Paris’s Picasso museum as a temporary exhibition.

We were a bit disappointed to discover that the museum closed very early on Sundays so we went instead to the city’s largest park, El Retiro. After having a sufficient amount of time exploring the park and reading on one of its benches, we went to yet another tapas bar and vinoteca to get some dinner. To drink, Katie and I tried two different sherries, a dry Palomino and a sweet Pedro Ximenez. To eat, we ordered octopus and potatoes with “salsa brava;” goat cheese and anchovies; goat cheese and carmalized onions; as well as pesto, spinach, and smoked salmon wrapped around mozarella cheese! It was one of the savoriest dinners we’ve had on this trip, but we’re also confident that we could replicate all of these hors d’oeuvres at one of our own parties.

Monday brought a lot less rain so we did almost all of our urban walking then. Our first destination was the Cathedral de la Almuden, next to the Palacio Real. The cathedral looked old from the outside, but the inside looked quite modern. We walked around parts of the newer town, hoping to find a theatre where some of Madrid’s best flamenco shows take place. We were a bit disappointed to find that an Argentine pop singer, whom we had never heard of, was performing there instead of any traditional flamenco shows.

So after another bocadillo (poboy) lunch, we headed back to Reina Sofia and finally got the chance to go see the Picasso exhibit. One cool thing was not only seeing Guernica, but also a series of photographs that Picasso took as he was working on it, documenting changes that he made as he worked on it. When we looked at the finished painting on display, we could see some of the half erased marks he never fully cleaned up.

We went to sleep early that night, after another light dinner of cold tapas at the hostel. On Tuesday morning, we caught our plane to Athens. The subway ride took a bit longer than we had expected and since our eticket didn’t specify we were departing from the furthest terminal, and we ended up catching our flight only because we ran through the concourse to the ticket desk!

Photos from Madrid

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¡Nos Encanta Barcelona!

April 21st, 2008

Right from the start, being in Barcelona was just wonderful. We did have to fly into Girona Airport, which is about an hour’s bus ride from the city, but for the price of our EasyJet flight it was more than worth it. Not to mention the bus ride took us through some absolutely lovely countryside. The only other problem was that, while I was completely recovered from my infection, I managed to contract a cold my second night out of the hospital, and by the time we arrived in Spain my voice was completely shot. I couldn’t do much more than whisper and make squeaky noises. Still, I didn’t let that get in the way of enjoying Barcelona, and I just let Tommy do all the talking.

A quick metro ride got us from the bus station to our hostel, which was perfectly situated just north of the old city. It was about 9:00 pm when we arrived, and we were hungry. We planned to get some groceries, but all the stores were closed. We found a little cafe with affordable tapas, and got a pitcher of sangria–it was absolutely delicious!

The next day was bright and sunny and we set out to see the city. The main artery through la Ciutat Vella is La Rambla, a long street with a wide pedestrian walkway in its center, lined with trees. The walkway is lined with the typical stands selling flowers, magazines, or souveniers, but we were surprised to reach one stretch with a series of outdoor pet shops! Stands were set up on all sides filled with cages of birds, guinea pigs, bunnies, and hamsters. I couldn’t help but go from one to the next, admiring the animals. Every now and then one would have a real oddity, like a cage chock full of baby chickens, or some extreme breeds of pigeons with exaggerated feathers.

On our way down La Rambla, we ducked into La Boqueria, an immense covered market. Tommy and I have seen lots of markets of this kind on our trip so far, and I must say, La Boqueria beats them all by far. Never have I seen such amazing displays of beautiful food: piles of colorful and exotic fruits (including several of our South American favorites), huge collections of candies and chocolates, and fresh (occasionally still-moving) seafood. The fruit vendors sold amazing juice and fruit salad, some of which we sampled as we walked through.

We continued down La Rambla to the coast. It was a lovely sight, deep blue water and an avenue lined with palm trees. We walked down it into Barceloneta, another neighborhood near the beach. There we visited another market and had bocadillos, or sandwiches, for lunch. Then we walked down to the sandy beachfront. It was just perfect. The weather was cold, but in the bright sun it was hard to tell. It was packed with people relaxing, but there were still plenty of free lounge chairs to spare. We plopped ourselves down to enjoy the water and the weather. Every now and then hawkers would come by offering massages or “cervezabeer?” but we tuned them out.

We strolled east down the coast. I had my binoculars and was avidly searching for birds, as I had read online that the Barcelona waterfront was an excellent place to do it, but the diversity was pretty much limited to gulls and pigeons. But as we moved inland into a park, we began to hear the raucous squawks of parrots in the trees. There is apparently a pretty significant population of Monk Parakeets in the city, which can be seen feeding with the pigeons. Several of them had some cumbersome but very visible numbered tags around their necks, so I can only guess they are being studied by someone.

We wandered through the old city some more, seeing some of the older buildings and cathedrals. Then we walked to the immense park of Montjuic in the western part of the city. It was quite a hike up a steep hill, but the view from the top was worth it. Not to mention the gorgeous, perfectly-manicured gardens. We also found several sites from the 1992 Olympics, including the diving pool, which was filled with bathing gulls.

After a brief rest at our hostel, we went out for our one big night of tapas, which we had been looking forward to doing in Spain. We had located a nice-looking place called Taller de Tapas (“Tapas Workshop”) during our walk. We were excited to find that they had Quilmes, our favorite Argentine beer. We had two bottles and three different delicious tapas. We split an amazing chocolate dessert and some very sweet sherry. Our little meal was pretty pricey to us, and we watched in awe as the couples around us kept plates of tapas coming, along with plenty of wine and champagne. Maybe someday?

Our first day in Barcelona was just perfect. It was such a beautiful city. Unfortunately we knew we would not have another like it–the weather forecast was nothing but rain for the rest of our stay. The next day we decided to stick to indoor activities. The first of these (after sleeping in quite late) was a haircut for me. It had been maybe five months since my last one, at it was getting a little hard to deal with. Luckily, on our walk the day before we had stumbled across an English salon with the motto “Don’t let your Spanish get in the way of your hair!” The owner is from Britian, and everyone inside spoke perfect English. I got one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had there.

Our next stop was perhaps the best place in Barcelona to spend a rainy day: El Corte Inglés, Spain’s premiere department store. We’re talking nine stories of anything you’ve ever wanted. From the designer clothing, purses, and fragrances to home furnishings, electronics, and musical instruments, it was a fun place to wander through. We spent some time admiring lovely objects we couldn’t afford (if you haven’t seen a MacBook Air yet, go to Best Buy and check one out…wow)

Our last stop in El Corte Inglés was the counter of a wedding dress designer, Pronovias. I’m not the kind of girl who has been planning her perfect wedding for years, and when I got engaged I didn’t have a clue what kind of dress I wanted. My mother and sister bought me some bride magazines, and inside one of them, a single wedding dress caught my eye. It was simple and unique, and the only one I’ve ever seen a picture of and really liked. While I knew I could never afford it, I checked out who the designer was: Pronovias, Barcelona. Since we were going to be in Barcelona, I thought I might as well look them up. Why not? As it turns out, while they’re scarce in North America, in Barcelona it would be difficult to be in the city and not be on top of a Pronovias store. So in we went, to the little corner of El Corte Inglés roped off for the finest of Spanish wedding dress designers.

Since my voice was pretty much useless (like my Spanish) Tommy explained why we were there–we had seen a dress in a magazine that we were looking for. The lady working the desk did not speak English, but somehow with much gesturing and guessing at fashion vocabulary, we communicated what the dress looked like to her. She told us they did not have it there, but that the branch on Via Augusta should. Since they were closing soon, we decided to head over right away.

It was intimidating, to say the least–a stark, pale store with nary a wedding dress in sight, the walls lined with black and white photographs of extremely fashionable gowns. We had to ring a doorbell to get in. A sharply dressed Spanish woman let us in and asked how she could help us. When Tommy said I was looking for a wedding dress, she began taking out forms and asking for all sorts of information. I hoarsely prompted him to explain the specificity of our search. Between us, we were again able to communicate what the dress looked like, and they knew it immediately. Surprised that I only wanted to try on one gown, they beckoned me upstairs.

Thus began the first and (I predict) most bizarre dress fitting of my life. I was seated in a large room with a comfy sofa and a trifold mirror and pedastal. They had me don six-inch heels and an undergarment I later learned is called a can-can, which poofs out at the bottom to help fluff the dress. Then they brought it in. It was more than a little odd looking at the actual garment I had admired from maybe four thousand miles away. They helped put it on me and began fitting it to me. I knew more and more with every passing second that I did not belong in this store, trying on a dress I could not afford, but I was already standing there, so I simply continued pretending. When they were finished, I was a strange specimen of a bride–pristinely lovely from the front, and a mess of clips and excess toulle in the back. But the dress was beautiful. Tommy came in and the ladies gave us a minute alone, during which he frantically snapped pictures of me. Our plan is to try and get a similar dress made, possibly even in Thailand. We’ll see.

We did a little more shopping for things we’ve been needing, and also paid a visit to the Hospital de Sant Pau, an old and beautiful hospital which is still active. Fortunately it was just to sightsee and not for my readmission. The weather had changed drastically throughout the day; a single location could go from bright and sunny to dark and pouring and back again in only a matter of minutes. We cooked some pasta back at our hostel for dinner.

The next day, the forecast was a little more optimistic, so we caught a train to Montserrat. This area had been recommended in an EasyJet magazine on one of our flights, and we had been looking forward to checking it out. After an hour train ride out of Barcelona, you take a cable car up a mountain to the monastery of Montserrat, and there are several walking paths to other sites in the hills. The scenery is supposed to be spectacular. Unfortunately, the cable car took us straight up into a thick cloud where you couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of you. We tried a scenic walk but couldn’t see anything but a sea of fog. When it began to drizzle, we got some hot chocolate at the nice cafe there and headed back to Barcelona. We spent the rest of the day catching up on internet in the hostel until our evening flight to Madrid.

Posted in Spain | 3 Comments »

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