The World At Large
Previously: I returned to the United States with hopes that I could find a job with relative ease to save up for a new adventure. Upon returning I did not look as hard as I should have and as the US economy slide further into it’s recession I could not find even the most basic of employment. My friend Jason was in the same situation and now having nothing left for either of us in North Carolina we began to talk of getting out. Getting out, making an epic roadtrip west and staying there. Around the middle of February we set this critical date as March 1st 2009.
G.K. Chesterton once said: “The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” That is exactly what I did last September. I had been away just long enough, and been living such a different life that arriving back here was nearly as foreign as any country I had visited on my way around the world. And of all the countries I had visited I unfortunately found it to be one of the least agreeable, and with less freedom than I was now accustomed to. Some people will undoubtedly be dumbfounded by those last couple of words so let me give you a small example.
Upon returning I had just run out of disposable contacts. Previously I had always bought them online and, for reasons unknown to me, if you had a military address you didn’t need to provide a doctor’s information to get them. I had enough boxes remaining after I left the military to last me until Thailand where I bought them freely from optical shops. I give them my lens power and my money and they give me a box of contacts. The end. When I returned to the states however, things took a turn. I was running out of contacts so I went about trying to buy a new box. My prescription still worked fine and hadn’t changed in years, so I didn’t need an exam, but I had long since lost my previous written prescriptions. Since I knew my contact lens prescription by heart, I naively thought that I could go to an optical center, give them money and they would give me a box. In fact this concept seemed utterly absurd to every person at every store I visited. This is because what I wanted to do was actually illegal, as it were.
It had been mandated by my government that, to purchase contact lenses, it should require basically the same procedures as the purchase of oxycontin or percoset. That is to say, you visit a doctor, he writes you a prescription, you produce said prescription and are allowed to purchase drugs. In the United States of America, for me to be able to see—to function, I am legally required to visit an eye doctor, pay him upwards of 60 dollars to tell me something that I already know and to write this something on a piece of paper. Then I must produce this piece of paper to a clerk at Lenscrafters or what have you and I am then allowed to buy something that I utterly require. I am allowed to see. Well gee thanks Uncle Sam. That sure is mighty kind of you. Boss.
Luckily if you go online and provide a doctor’s info, however old your records at that office may be (I hadn’t visited mine in 6 years) , they will still ship your contacts. At least they did for me. I could, very literally, score cocaine faster, easier and probably cheaper than contact lenses bought legally in this country. What possible reason could they have for placing such restrictions on contact lenses? What business is it of theirs if I want to have fuzzy vision or headaches by buying the wrong kind? Can you overdose on them? The only reason I can come up with is that eye doctors really like that little bit of extra income that they get for selling me a piece of paper with their signature on it for 60 bucks. I don’t really want to believe that even eye doctors have lobbyists for this kind of thing, but would it really be that surprising? No. And that’s the problem. Lady Liberty is draped in red tape.
I’ve tried to readjust to this “American” way, but I’m afraid I may no longer be able to live what is so widely considered a “normal” life here. Not with the knowledge that so much more exists out in the world. Having tasted such real freedom, simply knowing that it exists and that it is indeed attainable… it changes things. It feels like the best I can do now is “play along” and pretend that I understand why people accept these things. Pretend to understand why people can’t stop watching their televisions or buying useless crap. Because not understanding seems to make me very odd indeed.
Admittedly, though, I haven’t seen as much of my own country as I have the rest of the world. Perhaps I’m not qualified to make such sweeping judgments. This is about to change though as I now find myself standing on the cusp of a new adventure: The Great American Roadtrip. This time my journey is on entirely different terms. Terms I’m not all that comfortable with; in fact in other situations I probably would not have accepted them. Over the past few years I’ve become extremely independent, possibly even to a fault and the thought of having to depend on someone else for anything makes me very anxious. I positively hate the feeling of not being able to do something for myself. It can frustrate me into a sort of depression. I’ve never been in debt and I don’t like the idea of owing anyone anything, especially money, but desperate times require desperate measures and these times are desperate indeed.
Even so, I am excited as I am before any adventure. I can’t deny that the thought of returning to a life where I can’t know what the next day will bring is exciting regardless of circumstance. Even if it is only for a while. And thus this blog turns once again to a travel documentary. The aim this time is the great American road trip. My friend and I are going to criss cross the USA and end in the west hopefully with a new place to call home. Where exactly that will be is anyone’s guess. I’m just glad to be moving again.
-Tyler
“Ice age heat wave can’t complain
if the world’s at large why should I remain?
walked away to another plan
gonna find another place
maybe one I can stand”
-Modest Mouse
I know what you’re thinking: “Wait… this isn’t current. Your roadtrip is already over.” True, but its time to play catch up and start telling the story of what happened on this trip since I wasn’t able to while it was in progress. Better late than never. The stories and updates are coming and to help keep you tuned, I’ll give you some statistics: We drove over 12,500 miles, crossed 32 states and 2 provinces of canada and our car was searched 3 times by various authorities. We met good people, scary people and thoroughly insane people. We gained new perspective on our native land and slowly, day by day, we realized that it was perhaps time to leave it behind…
Wayward
This is the final cut of my 2007-2008 travels. It is a shortened version of a different 15 minute long cut that wasn’t quite good enough to upload. I hope you enjoy.
Karma Police
I am about as far from superstitious as one can be. I believe in science, sound theories and provable facts. Sometimes, though, things happen that beg me to reconsider my stance on things like karma.
About a week ago now I was driving back to my bungalow around 9:30pm. There is a particularly steep hill just before my house and I was driving up fairly slowly in first gear just as I normally do. About half way up on the steepest section the bike popped out of gear into neutral and I began to roll backwards. The speed gained up as I tried in vain to shift back into first and gained more before I was able to apply the brakes. I was going too fast and swung sideways flipping the bike. After I was thrown from the scooter there was a split second as I flew through the air that I knew things were coming to an end. I hit the pavement on my right side and the bag containing my laptop landed with a mortifying crunch next to me. The momentum forced me to roll over it once, crushing the screen and my small Olympus camera along with it.
All was quiet. The wind was knocked from me and I sat bleeding in the road for a moment getting my bearings. I looked up the road at my overturned bike lit only by rays of moonlight leaking through the palm trees and I was alone. There was no one there to help me, no one to talk to for comfort. Just me, my pain and two newly christened paperweights. I picked myself up, hauled my bike back onto its tires and roll-started it down the hill. Once the engine was running I turned it around and went back up the hill to my house. Given the accident my injuries were minor. Just a sore neck, a few bruises, cuts and scrapes that I was able to clean and patch myself with first aid supplies from my pack. After tending to myself I reviewed the damage to my electronics. Given the durable nature of the olympus camera I expected it to survive, but the LCD display was crushed. The laptop’s screen was shattered and it wasn’t powering on. Thoughts of all the information that I may have lost rushed through my head in a panic. I sat down for a moment, but I couldn’t stay still. I knew there was nothing I could do that night, but I had to move. I drove back down to the beach and tried to call a couple of people, but no one was answering. I sat down in front of a dive shop alone trying to figure out what I was going to do.
Money was already tight and I needed the laptop if I was going to film anymore. I spent the next day running down answers. I extracted the hard drive and opened the computer up to see the internal damage. Everything looked surprisingly intact. I took it to one of the computer guys on the island, but the only thing he could do was suggest I take it to Pantip Plaza in Bangkok to see if it could be salvaged. Which is what I did. I left the next day taking a ferry to the mainland and an overnight bus into Bangkok. I arrived sleepless around 4:30am and caught a cab to my guest house. My room wasn’t available until 1pm and there wasn’t any place for me to sleep so I killed a couple of hours on the internet and wandered the streets until Pantip plaza opened at 10am. I scoured the massive electronics complex for the right shop to take my computer to and eventually settled on one. The man gave it a once over and said a screen replacement may be all it needed. I watched him as he installed a new screen for 8500baht and shockingly the machine powered on and seemed to be working. Exhausted, but relieved I made the long walk back to my guest house, stopping for lunch along the way. It seemed my streak of bad luck had finally been curbed. As I sat eating, a young Thai woman sat down in front of me and silently slid me a card. It was asking for a donation to the Deaf, Blind and Mute by buying a small handycraft for 60 baht. Wary of Bangkok scams, I politely declined and she left. Immediately afterward I felt very cold hearted and regretted the decision. I did my best to put it out of my mind and continued back to the guest house to get my room. It was 1:30pm, 31 hours without sleep. I sat down on the bed and thought about taking a nap, but before I let myself crash I booted up my laptop to make sure everything was still working. As I was checking through everything with pleasing results I heard a faint “pop” and the machine flicked off. It wouldn’t turn back on.
I rushed it back to the shop in the plaza where the man told me the motherboard had shorted and would need to be replaced. It was at this point, combined with the cost of the screen, that repairing the machine became more expensive than buying a new one. Except I couldn’t really afford one. After wandering around trying again to figure out what to do I asked the man if I could give the screen back and at least save that money. He would only give me 6000baht for it. I tried to get more at other shops, but no one was buying. At this point it had been 37 hours since I had slept and my attempts to bargain and haggle with the man in my state were pitiful at best. I ended up taking the 6000 and as I staggered out of the plaza utterly defeated at 8pm it began to pour rain. In my haste I had forgotten my rain jacket. I couldn’t seem to get a cab to stop and had to settle with a tuk tuk to get back to my room. Needless to say I was drenched by the time I arrived. I finally slept.
I got up the next morning and spent all day searching for a laptop that met my needs and I could afford, but after looking at my bank account and weighing prices I decided that I couldn’t really even afford a cheaper one. That afternoon I booked my ticket back to the island and went back the guest house to relax. I watched TV for an hour or two and left at 7pm to get dinner in a different part of the city. As I sat slowly picking away at my dinner I thought back to the girl who asked for a donation the day before and everything that had happened since. Then the very same girl sat down in front of me and with a look that would suggest she knew more than she possibly could, slid me the card again. This time it said 100baht. I paid her, she thanked me in sign language and disappeared into the crowd outside.
I am about as far from superstitious as one can be. I believe in science, sound theories and provable facts. Sometimes, though, things happen that beg me to reconsider my stance on things like karma.
-Tyler
Touching the Flame
There is a very distinct sound produced when wind meets flame and for a few moments it is all that you hear. The crowd fades, the ocean quiets and all that you see is fire. All that you hear is the roar as it passes around you.
Its called Fire Poi. Two chains (one for each hand) with a weighted end wrapped in kevlar or cotton, soaked in fuel, set on fire and spun around in weaves and patterns. It is an art form that started sans-fire with the Maori people of New Zealand and has since spread to every corner of the world. From the rainy streets of Ireland, to the beaches of Vietnam you will find it. Here on the island many of the local Thais practice it on the beach outside of restaurants or bars to attract patrons. For them it is all about flash; they spin as hard and as fast as they can and since this more commercial version was the form I was most familiar with it never really had any draw for me.
About a month ago one of the Thai diving instructors that I work with here named Off was having his birthday party on the beach outside the dive shop. Eventually he started playing with the fire chains and absolutely blew me away. It was slower and rhythmic with an extreme technical difficulty. The way he moved the fire around him was nothing short of artwork. His girlfriend Sussi went after him and was just as impressive. It was so hypnotically beautiful that it gave me a new respect for the practice and inspired me to try it. I bought a very cheap pair of chains to practice with and on and off over the course of a few weeks I worked through the most basic maneuvers on my own. Eventually, after enough smacks taken to anywhere the chains would reach, my left hand begrudgingly excepted it’s new more complicated tasks. Last night on the beach in front of a crowd with Off and Sussi I lit them up for the first time.
There is a very distinct sound produced when wind meets flame and for a few moments it is all that you hear. The crowd fades, the ocean quiets and all that you see is fire. All that you hear is the roar as it passes around you. And in this moment I learned that there is a very real calm to be found in so much controlled pandemonium. The flames focus your attention so singularly on the motions that there is nothing else. The rest of your mind is allowed to breath and you can forget everything, living only in the moment.
There were a few inevitable mistakes that broke things up and when my fire was almost done I spun them out. There were a few black residue marks on my arms from the hits and my pants smelled of fuel, but I was unscathed.
So I did it again.
-Tyler
Options, Lack Of
It has happened. The inevitable is upon me and it has come a bit sooner than I expected. This island has a very tangible pull to it and one of the things that makes it so unique is that you will not find one foreigner living here, literally not a single one, that came to this place with the intention of staying. The lifestyle is simply too attractive for some people to pass up, myself included. I hunkered down, got a little too comfortable and stopped watching my account balance as closely as I usually do. I had an imaginary “caution-line” drawn that once my funds dipped below I was to start making contingency plans should I not be able to continue my traveling. They have dipped. My situation is far from dire; I still have enough money to get me through the next couple of months, finish my dive master certification and then some, but unless I find actual “gainful” employment soon after that is finished then I’m afraid I’ll have to make a difficult choice. There are two options that I can see:
A: After two months time I press on with my travels and bank on finding solid work in Oz or NZ. This one is particularly risky because my funds will already be tight and if that work never comes about or isn’t enough to let me save money I could end up in a bad situation that lands me back in the states without much left. Although, if the work does pan out that means I could continue on with this wonderful little world wandering thing I’ve got going.
B: After two months time I cut my losses and return to the states with enough cash to keep me floating until I find a job and start saving for the next trip. I have to admit that a part of me sees going back to the states as a sort of failure. I was hoping I could keep extending this trip for some time and if I had been a little wiser with my money it certainly could’ve been a bit longer, but a full year isn’t bad. I do really miss my family and friends and I wouldn’t mind doing the “normal” thing for a little while as long as I can find a job that isn’t too awful.
So far option B has the edge, but obviously nothing is set in stone at this point. I still have a couple of months to feel out where things are heading. But, for the first time in a long time I can actually see an end to this trip on the horizon and my mind seems to be having trouble accepting that. I think my new goal is to find a way to perpetuate these travels long enough to stop calling them “trips” and start calling them “life” because this is most certainly a large part of who I am now. Also on a slightly related note, I believe I have found the official title of my dream job (something I never really bothered to pin down until recently): Professional Travel Photographer. So obvious it hurts. While its nice to actually have the name of what I aspire to, its somewhat depressing for reasons I will discuss in the next post.
For now, what can I do other than keep moving forward. While there is some uncertainty in my path I take comfort in knowing that I’ll make the best of whatever happens and no matter what that is I won’t be off the road for long.
-Tyler
The Unexpected
So I left the island of Koh Tao, Thailand for my usual day-and-a-half visa run into Burma and back. Four days later I’m sitting in a guest house in Penang, Malaysia making a mental note of how every article of clothing I’m wearing is from a different country. My glasses are from Thailand, my shoes were bought in the states, my socks in Athens, my pants are from Prague, my belt is Hungarian and I picked up this shirt at a mall here yesterday. But I digress…
I had been told that I could make three trips into Burma before having to worry about getting a proper visa. This run was meant to be my third, but in my most epically dumb oversight to date I didn’t consider something much more important. It was explained to me as I arrived at the Thai border and handed the agent my passport. She flipped through the pages and concernedly remarked: “I think you no go to Burma today.” To which I replied, “Umm… No, I’m pretty sure I need to.” She then pulled out a scratch sheet of paper and went thorugh all the dates on the Thai stamps in my passport and added up the number of days I had been there. You see, on a US passport one is allowed up to 90 days in Thailand without a visa and I was staring down in awe at a scribbled total of “88.” Even if I did cross into Burma and back I would still have to get myself to the nearest foreign major city of Penang, Malaysia within the next two days to apply for a visa. I phoned work: “Hey uh, Heather? Yeah, I’ve got some bad news.”
After I explained the situation she recommended a place to stay in Penang and I sat around waiting for the bus back to Chumporn where I would be able to catch the overnight train to the Malaysian border. Chief among my thoughts was the fact that I was now going to have to stretch a week’s worth of wear out of a day’s worth of clothes and how happy I was that I decided to bring my laptop with me this time. The bus took me back to Chumporn, but the overnight train was booked full… For the next two days. I decided to stay in Chumporn that night and worry about getting to the border in the morning. When I got up I walked down to the local does-everything-travel agent-resturant-bar-internet-guest house-shop thing where I was greeted by the kind of guys who hang out at foreigner bars at 10 in the morning. Luckily I know that these are also the kind of people with experience in getting in and out this country in a rush so I struck up a conversation. I had my travel plans worked out and was on a bus to Hat Yai within the hour. The bus took about 8 hours, pulling into the station around 7pm and I was instantly mobbed by the usual array of room renters, taxi drivers, minibus runners etc. There were no proper buses across to Malaysia so I eventually entered one of the many travel agents across from the station.
I was told that I could either take a taxi across at 4am or a minibus at 8:30am. The man had a thin mustache and a thick gold medallion necklace; a fast talker trying to push things on me, which I never enjoy, but know how to deal with. Eventually I settled on the minibus and he tried to get me to stay in one of the “cheap room” he had upstairs. As usual I said I would have to see the room before I agreed to anything and he had one of the ladies that worked for him lead me upstairs. Most situations like what follows are genuinely harmless—as this one probably was—but I think its very important to listen to that feeling in your gut when it says things aren’t right. As I followed her up the stairs it got darker and darker toward the third floor where the lights were off. The walls of the stairwell were cold unpainted concrete and it was unsettlingly obvious that I was the only one there. I was becoming more uncomfortable with every step and when the dim lights flickered on and I saw the hallway I made the decision to bail. The doors to the rooms were made of plywood with numbers haphazardly painted on them corresponding to the key in my hand, but I quickly noticed we were on the 4th floor and that my key was for the 3rd. I motioned that I had to go down a floor and left the lady as I descended. I skipped right past that 3rd floor and pulled out my cellphone before reaching the ground floor. As I shuffled quickly past the man handing him the key and saying that I would be back, I pretended to be on the phone so he couldn’t argue and made a quick, clean exit.
As I said, it was probably harmless—rooms like that aren’t uncommon around these parts. But bad vibes like that are, so when I get them I tend to take heed. I went back to the same place the next morning to catch that minibus and everything went smoothly. On the bus there were two older Thai men, an older American, a Dutch girl and 3 guys from Somalia, one of which we left at the Malaysian border because he couldn’t get through. Upon exiting Thailand the American man noticed my passport and asked where I was from. I told him NC and he explained how he lived in SC when he was young. Turns out he was only a couple of counties away from where I grew up. As the trip went on our conversation continued and it turned out we had a few more things in common. His name was Charlie and if I had to guess his age I’d say late 50s. I asked “so what do you do back in the states?” and he only answered “Get ready to go somewhere else.” Like myself he was also ex-navy stationed in Japan, but the generational gap became glaringly obvious when the conversation shifted to women in the military. He mentioned that there were no women on ships when he was in the service and I noted in a negative tone that they still weren’t allowed on submarines. He said “Good, they shouldn’t be allowed on any ships. They shouldn’t be on the police force either.” I gave him a deservingly awkward look and he said “Think about it, if someone breaks into your home which would you rather show up: A little lady or big guy named Bubba?” I answered, “First off, I don’t think you’ve met some of the women I have… Second: Either one’s going to have a gun ya know.” “Hell, I have a gun.” “Then what do you need Bubba for?” Realizing that the exchange would go nowhere he ended with “Well, we’re obviously from different generations, like I’m a republican and you’re probably a democrat…” We found common ground again when I explained that I would rather not be associated with either party at the moment given the state of things. It seems that out of all the other Americans I’ve met traveling, no matter how different we may be, we can all agree on one thing: Our current system and government are complete trash.
The car ferry pulled into port at Penang and we drove into town. The driver pulled over at the last stop and I got out, said goodbye to Charlie and walked over to the place that was recommended to me. I was told that they could also do all of the paperwork necessary for my Thai visa right from the guest house which was true… except I was about 30 minutes too late to get my stuff submitted before the immigration office closed for the weekend. I got settled into my room and took a walk to the local super-huge mall to pick up some socks, a couple of shirts and some various other bare essentials to hold me over on this little Malaysian misadventure.
People who know me know I’m not a braggart, but all in all I have to say I’m rather impressed with myself right now. A few days ago shit kind of hit the fan and much like a front row spectator at a Gallagher show, I had a garbage bag ready to pull over my head. I was ready and that makes me feel pretty good—like I passed some sort of test or something. Also there’s the fact that I’ve been away on this “trip” for over 6 full months now. Over 180 days I’ve crossed 17 countries by foot, scooters, buses, trains, cars, trucks and planes. I have taken well over 4000 photographs accompanied by nearly 40 pages of text. I’m accomplishing what I set out to do and I’ve found one of the things I think I was looking for:
A way of life. One that I’m good at
-Tyler
Q&A Time
Talking with friends and strangers alike throughout my travels has yielded more questions about my adventure than I can possibly recount. Some of you might remember the tips video I made a few months back recommending things to bring on a backpacking trip in Europe and I was planning to do another addressing such questions. But, since I have no real visual aids as I did for the first one, I figured I might as well just write them. I’m better at that anyway by my—and no doubt others’—estimations. As I was asked these questions I kept a running list in a notepad file on my computer which I’m now referencing as I write. Some are simple, some are silly, some are personal, a lot have to do with money and all will be addressed. Perhaps not this time, but eventually.
How often do you do laundry?
A fair question since I gave a precise count of the clothes I had with me in the aforementioned video. On average I’d say once a week or as needed. Though the opportunity doesn’t always present itself when I need it to and I end up stretching that time-line and enacting an emergency “If it smells clean…” policy. The first day I was in Paris I strolled into a nearby, but somewhat shady laundromat to do some much needed washing. I was greeted by three Romanian guys stripped to their briefs sitting in front of the dryers. They were watching everything they’d been wearing that day—including shoes—dry. Once it was finished they got dressed and strolled out, one texting on his cellphone, as if this happened pretty regularly. I never figured out what kind of almost-certainly-wacky circumstances lead to their situation, but I really wish I had because my imagination has been working through possibilities ever since.
Has your world-view changed since you left?
I put mayonnaise of my french fries now. If that doesn’t signify a change in world-view, I just don’t know what ever will. Of course it has changed. How could it not? For one, there are infinitely more good people left in the world than I ever would have imagined 6 months ago. Genuinely caring, honest, good natured people who are more than willing to help a stranger without expecting anything in return. You will find them in abundance no matter what country you happen to be in. It seems to me that people all over the world are generally looking for the same thing. But I’m not sure which I find more frustrating: That the people who would drive between us such petty wedges as religion and ethnicity happen to be the ones in power or that the good people keep them in power out of ignorance.
How do you handle many different currencies?
A big wallet and organizational prowess. Usually before I leave a country who’s currency I know I will not be needing again I exchange all but a small amount of that cash into the next country’s money. I have at least one piece of currency from every country I’ve ever visited as a souvenir. Note: There is not a single place in the whole of Thailand to exchange Turkish Lira. Apparently.
How do you deal with Language barriers?
I once negotiated a cab ride by drawing numbers in sand. A few local phrases combined with hand signals go a long long way. And some things are just universal. Like when you really need to use the bathroom you would be surprised how clear your body language makes this fact to pretty much anyone in the world.
What is your favorite city?
That’s like asking me my favorite movie. I’ve seen so many great ones that I can’t ever really decide. But, as with movies when I am pressed to name a single favorite I will concede with Amelie, so too with places I must answer with Paris. Touristy as much of it is and cliché as it may sound: I. Love. Paris. But, there are many other places which I would place on an equal list of favorites. Galway, Istanbul, Krakow, Cesky Krumlov, Koh Tao, just to rattle off a few. I recently filled out a map of all the places I have ever been and it ended up being something like 75 cities in 21 countries. Sometimes it feels as though I am in love with the world as a whole.
I shall end with the question I get most often and on which I will spend the most time deflecting:
How much does this cost/How much have you spent?
Apparently it is no longer rude to inquire as to one’s personal finances because I get this question more than any other, by far. A sign of the times perhaps. Now I can only assume that people ask this because they wish to estimate how much a trip like mine would cost them. The thing you have to understand, though, is that how much I have spent has absolutely nothing to do with how much you would spend. I have gone places and spent money on things that you probably wouldn’t and you would spend on things and go places that I haven’t. The variables are virtually infinite and it becomes impossible to base your estimation on my costs. Thus the question itself becomes moot, lest you really are just that curious and/or prying. So to whom then must you direct your monetary queries? Find a mirror.
How long do you want to be gone? Where do you want to go? Are you traveling alone? How will you get around? Can you rough it a little? Are you willing to work? couchsurf? Farmstay? Your answers to these questions will help you to gauge your cash requirements far better than I. I am not by any means recommending that you plan everything in advance. If you’ll recall, my plans consisted of a one-way flight and single hostel booking. I did, however, do a considerable amount of reading—both online and off—before I left and this gave me a very clear general understanding of what I was getting myself into. And that—for my money—is the single most important thing to have when preparing for any trip.
-Tyler
Into the Blue
I’m going to try something new. Now that I have settled into a place that I’ll be staying for a few months obviously my stories of traveling will slow a bit. I’ll still have things to recount (as you’ll read shortly) but there won’t be as much of it I don’t think. I’ve grown a bit used to writing quite a lot in these posts so I’d like to take that extra space to put down my thoughts and discuss certain subjects. Not necessarily this time, but in the future. So I guess whoever is reading these things stands to learn more about me. And don’t worry, I’ll still have pictures to post. In fact I have some right now, but I need to upload them. That being said I’ll go ahead and move on to the part where I tell you about my last couple of days here on the island.
There is a dive site off the mainland here called Chumpon Pinnacle and when the water is clear and conditions are right it is the best diving to be had around the island. It contains a staggering array of marine life from giant barracuda to bat fish to groupers. I dive here quite often as part of my job filming open water students on their last 2 dives qualifying them as open water divers. They stay around the 12-14 meter (40-45 feet) depth, but I always make my way to the bottom 30 meters (100 feet) down to film the grey reef sharks that inhabit the area. On this particular day I was separated from the group in a section of bad visibility while filming the sharks and was swept off of the main pinnacle by a current. With no reference point I soon found myself a bit turned around. This is nothing all too uncommon so I proceeded slowly to the surface continuing to film along the way. I was separated from the other divers in a section of water not normally visited by them and for a moment time seemed to slow. I found myself suspended motionless in a surreal blue void, no bottom in sight and only a glimmer of light from the surface far above. Soon I began to notice dark shapes moving around me in the blue haze.
The blurry shapes soon narrowed into unmistakable silouettes and it was in this moment that I realized just what it was about sharks that makes them so inherently frightening. To me, at least. Not so much their sharp teeth or reputation, but their perfection. Never in my life have I witnessed anything so perfectly adapted to its environment. I really don’t think that they could be better at what they do and given what it is they do, I find this is terrifying. As I looked down I saw one below me, then one to my right, one behind me, everywhere. They kept their distance, though, as I ascended and I took comfort in the knowledge that no one has ever suffered a shark attack in these particular waters. Just before I reached the surface I managed to catch an enormous blue marlin on film in the water as it swam in the distance. By this time I had drifted a good ways from the boat so I surfaced and swam back. This was the most incredible dive I had done so far and probably something that I will never forget, but it paled in comparison to the following day.
I went out to Chumpon again with a different shop this time but still filming students. This particular shop is quite small and their boat is tiny compared to some of the others around the island, but I actually prefer this. There were only about 11 people onboard and it was very relaxed, which is just what diving should be. As everyone was getting ready we spotted a giant jellyfish moving around the boat. I got all of the shots I needed and jumped in with the group. Just as we got to the buoy line to descend the instructor looked down into the water and called out two words that send tingles down the spine of any diver on this island: “Whale Shark.”
I put my mask into the water and saw the giant lumbering 10 meters below us and as quickly as my mouth was out of the water I blurted out “I’m going down.” I let the air out of my BCD and descended as quickly as I could to catch up with it, leaving the group behind for the worthy cause of getting the animal on film. For almost 10 minutes I swam along with it taking in its massive size (about 6 meters long if I had to guess) all alone. Again moving away from the dive site, again finding myself in that hazy blue void, but this time with something entirely different. How do I describe it? My lexicon goes only so far. I will say that it was one of the defining moments of the trip thus far. I reached a point where I didn’t feel comfortable swimming any farther from the boat so I stopped and watched the whale shark fade into the blue. At only 10 meters deep I decided to surface and get my bearings as to where the boat was. It was closer than I thought so I swam back to the bouy line and descended to the pinnacle for about 20 minutes. I never caught up to my group, but upon getting back to the boat they were waiting for me, all smiling wide and holding up the hand signal for “whale shark”. After it left me it turned back towards the dive site and everyone on the boat had the chance to swim with it. Once everyone was back onboard no one could stop smiling.
The only other boat at the dive site left and we had the whole place to ourselves for the next dive. While we were waiting we saw blue marlins leaping from the water and shark fins breaching the surface as they circled their prey. We all gathered in silence at the edge of the boat watching the sea deliver one amazing sight after another. “Its one of those days…” the instructor remarked with a smile.
-Tyler
One of those days we all live for.Shark Diving on Christmas Eve
It is now safe to say that I will soon have a job here on the island of Koh Tao where I have been for about a month now. I’m now staying in a simple fan-cooled room in a quiet spot away from the beach. Its spacious with a big double bed, hot water, a fridge and a TV. I swim in the ocean everyday and watch the sunset on the beach every night. Life is good.
On the last two dives of my open water course we were accompanied by a videographer who filmed us as we finished our course. As I watched her work, I thought to myself: “that seems like it would be a cool job…” and I made a note to ask her how she got into it. Later that day we gathered at Big Blue’s bar to watch our video and after it was over I talked to her a bit and found out that she had gone through a course with Ace Marine Images on the island and then stayed to do an internship with them and ending up working for them full time. I read up on the course and it sounded quite good. I stayed on at Big Blue to do my advanced certification and as I did that I went in and talked to the people at Ace about doing the video course. It was on the expensive side, but I had a good feeling and splurged on it. It consisted of an on land photography course and 8 dives with a camera and housing. As this went on I moved from Big Blue to the place I am now and spent time hanging out with the German friends I made from my open water named Chris and Tina. We rented scooters and accidentally took the back way to one of the other beaches. The dirt roads where in terrible shape and it was my first time riding a scooter, but we pressed on anyway. That was one way to learn I guess. The scooters were returned miraculously unscathed after our off-road adventures. Having learned our lesson, the next time we decided to go across the mountainous interior of the island we rented ATVs, which I have a bit more experience with. We hit almost every beach on the opposite, much less developed, side of the island via these primitive dirt roads. We even had to turn around once when we found a section so steep and sandy that I could tell our 4-wheelers wouldn’t be able to bring us back up if we went down. We also found an incredible view looking out across the island on top of a rock accessed by a makeshift bamboo ladder. After a few days hanging out with them and others we met, they left for Bangkok on their way back to Germany.
Shooting video underwater was admittedly harder than I expected, but over the dives I got better at it and when I finished they invited me to stay on for the internship. After much thought I decided that I would like to stick around for a while and give it a shot, so I did. The past week or so I have been out diving with the other videographers at different dive shops to get a feel for the job, what to shoot, when to shoot, when to get set up etc. The guys at Ace were really great and lent me dive gear when I needed it. Eventually I got my own setup for relatively cheap.
Around lunch time on the 19th I looked at the stamp in my passport and realized I was supposed to be out of the country that very day. Most every foreigner in Thailand has to do “Visa Runs” which means leaving the country and coming back in to get a new stamp and hence, more time. I frantically called Heather from Ace wondering how I was going to make it off the island that day, much less out of the country. She directed me to a travel office where I sorted out one of these visa runs. I wasn’t going to make it out that day, but my boat to the mainland left at 10am the next morning and I was on it. Fun fact: This was also the first day I had worn socks in about two weeks. It was a nice, fast, air conditioned boat and I arrived in Chumpon around 12:30pm. The boat pulled in slowly passing lines of fishing boats and ports on either side along the way. Once I left the boat I was greeted by the bus driver holding a sign that said “visa run.” Myself and 6 others who were doing the same thing, piled into the van and started on our way to Burma. We dropped everyone off at the Thai port for a place called the “Andaman Club” across the way in Myanmar, but because I had overstayed by one day I had to pay a fine in a different place across town. The van took me to the right place and they made copies of my passport while I filled out a police report about overstaying and payed my 500Baht fine. Lesson learned. I got back to the port just after 4pm and the bus back to Chumpon was leaving at 5pm. I had less than an our to get my paperwork through, get across the bay, get stamped and get back in time. I was in Burma, literally, for 5 minutes and I made it back right on time. The bus dropped me and the other 2 who where taking the night boat back to Koh Tao off at a cafe while we waited for a taxi (pick up truck) to the boat a few hours later. I had dinner and used the internet to kill the time. I had heard stories of how uncomfortable this particular night ferry was and I have no trouble admitting that I downed a few beers to help soften the blow and get some sleep. And it turned out to be the best decision I made all week. Once the pick up arrived me and the two British girls hopped in the back a got to chatting. The truck stopped and picked up two South Africans and we met two Australians when we arrived at the port. We all gathered around and cracked jokes about the boat we were about to get on. The 7 of us were the only foreigners on this boat and when we boarded we found out why. It was easily the oldest vessel I’ve been on and our place to sleep consisted of thin mattresses laid out on the floor and the shelf just above it, like two huge uninterrupted bunkbeds with a good number of locals already sleeping. I snatched an open place on the floor along with the two Brits. Maybe it was my sense of adventure or maybe it was just the alcohol, but I was actually pretty comfortable with the situation. The boat was loud, but the seas were calm and I slept surprisingly well throughout the night after watching us sail away under a full moon. The boat pulled in around 5:30 in the AM and I bid the others goodbye as I hopped on my scooter and zipped back to my room to catch a few more hours of sleep.
I ended up feeling good enough to dive that afternoon, so I went out and did more following. We went to a site I hadn’t been to yet that had caves you could swim through which was quite an awesome experience, made even more interesting by my fogging mask which I had to keep clearing in the cramped space. Yesterday morning I woke up early and went out to a beach called Shark Bay do some snorkeling.
Today is Christmas Eve and I got up around 5:30am to follow Heather out on a couple of dives, but this time with a camera back in my hands. The first site was a place called Chumphon Pinnacle which I have dived many times before, but the conditions there were the best I’ve seen yet. 30 meters down you could still see light at the surface. Also 30 meters down is where the sharks tend to be. Nothing wakes you up in the morning quite like turning around and find yourself face to face with a Reef Shark not much smaller than yourself. Not to mention the Great Barracuda that also patrol the area. It was an incredible dive and I got some good footage. The next dive was also quite good, but less eventful. Did I mention everyone was diving in Santa Hats?
Its hard to believe Christmas has already come so quickly and being in a country that doesn’t ‘officially’ celebrate it is interesting… and refreshing. There are no lines backed out of superstores, no extra traffic, no holiday hordes wrapped up in the consuming frenzy that Christmas has become. There is only celebration. My Christmas day will consist of a BBQ on the beach, swimming and laying in the sun. It should be an interesting change from the cold I’m used to. More later
-Tyler
Of Travelers and Tourists
I feel I should take a moment to elaborate on my definitions of “tourists” and “travelers.” To me a “tourist” is someone who buys a package vacation or tour and rides around on a tour bus seeing the same major sites that everyone else sees and skipping everything in between. You see them everywhere around the main attractions of any city being lead around like sheep by a guide with a raised umbrella or stick etc. Travelers on the other hand are more independent and tend to spend more time digging into the local culture rather than only visiting the touristy spots. In other words, tourists are in a speedboat skimming across the surface while travelers are going for a swim. And in places like Turkey that can make all the difference in the world…
Istanbul is an incredible place and I enjoyed the experience thoroughly. Walking around the city is quite different to most places I am used to. Shop and restaurant owners constantly beckon tourists into their various establishments by asking where they are from and making small talk, many times claiming they are very special because they are the first customer of the day, when in reality the only thing special about them is that they are about to be taken for a ride. Such shops are often ludicrously overpriced and they get away with it because of uninformed visitors who just don’t know any better. For instance some people… we’ll call them “salesmen” may approach you with watches to sell and they will ask 300 Lira for them. Some people may just pay that thinking it is the price, when in reality they could be talked down to about 5 Lira. It is my experience that once these shop owners and hawkers realize that you know what you’re doing and that you’re not “just another tourist” they generally leave you alone and actually show you a bit more respect. I spent a few days wandering the city, seeing the sights, getting lost in the bazaars, eating the local kebabs and woken up by the call to prayer thundering over loudspeakers throughout the city.
Later, I made the leap and purchased what was my second one-way plane ticket of this trip: from Istanbul, Turkey to Bangkok, Thailand with a quick layover in Bahrain. I gave myself the better part of the week to see more of Turkey and I used that to bus it out to the very center of the country to an area known as Cappadocia (Kappadokya). I left on an overnight bus with two New Zealanders from my hostel room in Istanbul. Every time I take an overnight bus or flight, I seem to forget just how terrible they can be. I can never sleep sitting up and with an aisle seat there is no place to lean so it always ends up being a restless drawn out night that leaves me exhausted the next day. Nonetheless after a long night of riding the sun rose to reveal a desert-like landscape that soon gave way to the strangest area I have ever found myself in. Again, my vocabulary and descriptive skills fail me when thinking of how to explain a place like this, save to say it looks like another planet. The people that lived here long ago carved their homes and churches directly out of the mountainside’s soft rock and a good number of them are still in use by local residents and renters who used them to accommodate travellers. We stayed in the town of Goreme, which is overlooked on most sides by such mountains and indeed we stayed in cave rooms carved directly out of the rock for our time there. Granted they were modernized with bathrooms, heat and electricity.
The day we arrived it was rather cold and the weather was not cooperating so I took a nap for a couple of hours while the rain cleared before heading out to the open-air museum east of town. The open-air museum in Goreme is another UNESCO site and it features an array of small churches carved out of the rocks. The entrances to the churches are quite modest, but once inside you realize that the carved pillars, arches, domes and vaulted ceilings directly from the rock and covered them with frescoes. Though small, the craftsmanship is more than impressive. However extraordinary the museum was, it paled in comparison to the following day. I woke up around 9:30am and had breakfast before picking up some water and stocking up on a few apples at the local fruit market for my walk. I set out back towards the museum, but took a trail leading away from the road and up a hill toward the edge of a valley.
I passed a stray dog along the way and once I neared the top of the hill I looked back and found that it was following me. I don’t know why… I didn’t feed it, or pet it or call it… she just decided to tag along. I would stop to take photos and she would lay down just behind me and once I started moving on she would trail along. Eventually she caught up and laid down at my feet so, I pet her a bit while I rested. This small female german shepard ended up walking along with me for the entire 6 hours I was out hiking. I tried to give her some of my water and attempted to share one of my apples, but she would have none of it. I started off on the trail, but strayed off of it into the countryside as I worked my way around valleys and across fields before finding a marked trail that lead down into a small canyon and eventually to one of the places I was looking for called Rose Valley. Its name comes from the pink color of the rocks that line the gorge. Every time I would pass other people, the dog would stick right by my side. Sometimes she would track ahead on the trail and disappear around a corner and I would round it to find her waiting on me to catch up, but nearing the end of my walk on the way back towards the town I came to a crossroads. I needed to go left, but the dog apparently was headed right. We walked in our opposite directions and I never saw her again. It was the strangest thing.
The next day I went on a walk with the two Kiwis around a separate equally interesting section of the area and we got back a bit after lunch. We hung around the town and got our things packed for the overnight bus back to Istanbul before having dinner. The bus was about usual except this one had satellite TV on board and there was a soccer game on. Turkey was playing Norway in a qualifying match for next year’s european playoffs and the whole bus was really getting into it. Clapping a cheers would erupt after a goal and gasps for near misses. Turkey won the match 2-1. The rest of the bus ride was per usual and we checked back into the same hostel we left from around 8am and I took a nap. I spent the rest of that day organizing some last minute details for my trip to Thailand and went to be early. I was set to catch the 7:20am shuttle to the airport the next morning… I was awoken at 7:30 by the bus driver who had others on the bus waiting for me and I snapped into scramble mode and was out of bed and in the bus by 7:40. I got to the airport with ample time which was good since there were 2 security checkpoints (one right as you enter the airport and another at your gate) to go through, plus passport control. And the security checks are picky, you have to remove your belt, shoes, etc. They even scanned my watch. Are terrorists really that inventive these days? I mean, these airports seem to think you can fashion a bomb out of shampoo and a tray table…
After my layover in Bahrain I landed safely in Bangkok. I knew I would be heading back through the city later anyway and I decided that I wanted to head straight for the southern islands, so I went through immigration and found a really cheap flight to Surat Thani, the port where you can catch ferries to Ko Samui, Pha Ngang, and Tau. I landed and hopped a bus to the port. The balmy heat hits first as you exit the plane. Looking out the bus window the landscape reminded me, oddly, of Vietnam. But only in the sense that, if you watched a film about the war it would be set in this type of environment. Forests of palm trees, flooded low grasslands, makeshift towns on the banks of muddy rivers and cows wandering across the street as they please… As I got closer and closer to the pier I couldn’t help but realize: This is a whole new ballgame.
At the pier I found a Thai woman offering beach hut accommodation on the island of Ko Pha Ngang. The price was reasonable and I was exhausted and I didn’t want to haggle when I got to the islands so I took her up on it and caught the ferry out. It was dark when we arrived and the owner of the huts was there to meet me and a few others at the port. I jumped into the “free taxi” which was the back of his truck and he drove us off the main roads and through what I would almost call a jungle on one of the roughest dirt roads I’ve ever seen. Soon enough, though we arrived at the little complex which included a resturant and a few huts right near the beach. They lead me to mine and put my things down. It was exactly what I expected and what I was looking for. A little fan-cooled hut on a secluded beach… but it wasn’t $8. It was $9.50. High season, you see.
The hut was about as basic as it could get. Just one big double bed, a fan, a bathroom with a cold shower and a toilet with a flusher that consisted of a bucket of water and a sprayer. It was basically a shed… but a shed, quite literally in paradise. I have to imagine that when most people picture paradise in their heads it doesn’t look too much different than this island. After I got settled in, I went up to the open-air restaurant and ordered some food, which I found to be quite good. I turned in early and slept until about noon the next day, catching up on my sleep and nursing my jet lag. After a few days there the weather wasn’t holding up so I decided to move on to Ko Tau and find a place to do my scuba certification as planned.
The day I checked out of the hut I hopped into the back of the owner’s truck once again as he drove me back to the port where I caught the ferry to Ko Tau in a nick of time. It was an express ferry which cut through the waves like a dull hatchet would a tree and the engine quit twice, but it got me there in good time nonetheless. Once arriving at the port there were a multitude of dive companies waiting to greet us with their information paphlets and what not, but I chose to skip by them so I could check out a few different places on my own and see the place first hand before I made a decision. I caught yet another back-of-the-truck taxi to the far end of the main beach and began walking down, passing all of the dive resorts along the way. In the end I settled with Big Blue Diving. The course was cheaper than I thought, plus after some negotiations I scored a free room and PADI book along with it. Not to mention that their operation seemed solid… which I turned out to be right about. So over the past few days I’ve been doing the course and its bringing back a lot of memories just as I suspected it would, since my parents used to own a dive shop when I was a kid. With the smell of wetsuits, the taste of regulators and the sound air tanks clanging together come fond recollections of a time that I’ve always been partial to. It reminds me of home…
Its 11pm and I have to be up by 6:30 for the last dive of the course so I suppose I should wrap here. I’m not sure how long I will be on Ko Tau as I’m seriously considering staying to do my advanced certification after this and then there are many places around the island that offer special courses in underwater photography… which seems up my alley. I’m sure its a bit pricey though, so we’ll see.
So far my impression of Thailand is one of the most positive I’ve had of a country so far. The people are incredibly friendly which I find to be such a refreshing change from eastern Europe and it is about as gorgeous as gorgeous gets here. I finally understand why there are so many expats in this country.
Pictures are coming…
-Tyler
On the Move
Getting out of Albania is not particularly easy. I walked out to the trashed stadium in Tirana where my bus left from and checked my backpack under the bus. Luckily it was a nice modern bus, but the seats were incredibly cramped. Once we got out of the city areas around Tirana the pavement disappeared and only reappeared in sparse rough patches dotted with potholes. After a long bumpy ride winding through the mountains we finally arrived at the Albanian border checkpoint. Everyone on the bus had to get off and line up at the counter to have their passport checked before the guards pulled every bag out from under the bus, matched them to their owners and looked through them. Once the bags were put back under the bus and everyone was in their seats the guards came through the bus and double checked the passports as well as the carry-on bags we had with us. Once we hit the Greek checkpoint, it was smooth sailing. A quick stamp on the passport and we were on our way back onto well-maintained roads. And by well-maintained, I mean they had pavement and lines painted on them.
We arrived in Athens around 10am after some arguments broke out between our driver and some passengers, about what I don’t know. After getting off the bus I caught the metro to the area around the Acropolis where my hostel was. After wandering around the confusing streets for the better part of an hour looking for it I finally got a bed for the night. I used that morning to catch up on all of my picture work, uploading and posting since the hostel had a wifi connection. I slept early and got up around 8:30am to head out to the Acropolis. I’d heard that it was overrun by tourists midday and to aim for either early morning or late afternoon. I got there about a half an hour after they opened and by the time I go to the top I had to push my way (literally) through tour groups to get a glimpse at the Parthenon etc. The site is spectacular and impressive in every way, but I found the experience to be incredibly dampened by the amount of tour groups clogging the area. There’s nothing like hearing old Americans complain about the Acropolis not having an elevator so they don’t have to climb what little stairs there are. Seriously, I heard that. And I know they were American because the lady had that oh-so-familiar southern drawl. I find myself growing more embarrassed by the day with where I come from.
I left the Acropolis site and made my way to the quiet hill across from it where I enjoyed the view a great deal more with some peace and quiet. But, I was also impressed with the shear amount of smog I saw hanging over the city. After a long walk around the area reading up on the history, I walked around to some of the other sites like the impressive Ancient Agora and Roman Agora and a few other sites that the 12 Euro ticket gives access to. By the time I got back to the hostel it was dark, so I took care of my ferry ticket to Crete and booked my hostel for the next day before turning in. I left Athens around noon the next day and made my way to the port of Piraeus. I had my ticket in-hand but I didn’t know where to find my boat in the massive harbor. I asked around at a few different places and eventually found that I could catch a bus to the opposite end of the port where my ferry, “Olympic Champion”, was waiting. Time was short though, so I hurried over to the bus stop to find the bus empty. A greek man standing next to a scooter shouted “Olympic Champion?!” I said yes and he informed me that the bus didn’t leave for another half hour… when my ferry would already be gone. The thought of running across the harbor with my full pack on was entering my mind when suddenly the man said “come, I take you!”, hopped onto his scooter and motioned for me to get on the back. I was hesitant and said “are you sure? How much?” to which he replied “I don’t know… 1 euro… you won’t make it, just get on!” I looked across the bay, looked back and jumped onto his scooter, pack and all. We raced across the port as he yelled back about having friends in New York and pulled up to the boat just in time for me to thank him and board the ferry. The ride was long and I arrived in Hania, Crete around 9:30 at night where I caught a bus to Rethymno. I had the name of my hostel and what street it was on, but no map. I asked the bus driver where the street was and he gave me some rough directions, so I threw my pack on and started walking. Of course I couldn’t find the street so I asked around to no avail for the better part of an hour. I finally came across some cab drivers, which by the way are always good to ask for directions if you’re in a pinch, and they pointed me to the right street. I checked into the hostel and hit the bed hard. The next morning I went about washing my clothes by hand and walking around the city. That night I was introduced to a few other people at the hostel as I helped a South African girl, Ingrid, book her flight on my laptop. Afterward about 10 of us went out for drinks at a local shisha bar before we split up and went to different places. Myself, Lambrose, Natalia and Ingrid headed out to the rocks on the ocean below the old town fortress for a couple more drinks while the others headed back to the hostel and on to other bars.
The next day we all woke up late and Natalia, Taryn and I took a day trip to Hania to explore its old town area. There wasn’t too much to see so we wandered and stopped for milkshakes while we waited for the next bus back to Rethymno. The next morning I was talking to Lambrose and found that 5 of the others were renting a car and going down to a beach town called Matala for the night so he suggested that he, I, Natalia, Taryn, and Lautaro all pitch in a rent one too to go with. Everyone was up for it so we hammered out the details and Rene (more on him in a bit) took me down to the rental place to get the car. After we picked it up we had to navigate around a parade to find a parking spot, but before we knew it I was driving us all down, following the other car through the mountainous passes. We stopped off at a small village along the way to visit some of Rene’s old friends and arrived at the beach early in the evening.
By Rene’s look some may pass him off as just an old hippie, but when you sit down and talk to him he was quite an amazing person to meet. He spoke 10 languages including Swahili, which sounds a bit far fetched, but I personally overheard him carrying on conversations in English, Dutch, Greek, German, Spanish and another that I couldn’t place. He worked for the UN as a peace keeper in Africa for 25 years the last of which was in Dar fur specializing in child soldiers. When you hear first hand accounts of having a machine gun pressed against your head unable to do anything while the militia takes the kids you were trying to help back to be brainwashed and made to fight you understand why he was in Crete on a leave of absence contemplating whether or not he could go back to this work…
The beach was quite a sight. On one side there was a massive cliff face dotted with caves. Apparently after being excavated the caves were deepened only in the sixties by hippies who decided to live in them. These caves are abandoned now and you can explore them, but judging by the smell they seem to serve as toilettes for visitors. As the sun went down we made a fire on the beach and gathered around it with a few bottles of wine after going for a swim along the cliff side. Good times were had and most of us ended up sleeping right on the beach. I woke up the next morning and stirred the fire to warm up a bit. As the sun came up a few of us decided to walk over to the local bakery and get some coffee. We were a bit early though so we sat around on the curb of this empty town waiting for them to open. Once they did we ordered some coffee and took a seat at a table outside. While we were sipping our coffee and eating pastries an old frenchmen which, I have to say looked strikingly like Willie Nelson, strolled by. Christian, who had been to the town before, recognized him and called him over for a drink. Come to find out, there are still hippies living in the caves on the other side of the ridge and he was one of them. We all made small talk and bid him farewell as we headed back to the beach.
As the sun came up and it got warm enough to swim again, Natalia, Lautaro and I swam out around the cliffs and found some smaller ones to jump off of. I had goggles on, but on one jump they came off and yet another contact was washed out of my eye while my spares were still in Rethymno. Taryn, Lambrose, Natalia and I headed out before the other car back to Rethymno to pick up my contacts and then the four of us drove out to Knossos, the ancient Minoan archaeological site. After we finished there we drove out further along the coast to find a beach, but we were all exhausted and when Natalia showed us the cut on her foot from the night before, we realized how bad it was and decided to head back to the hostel in Rethymno where Rene and I patched her up. The next morning I woke up and drove the car back to the rental place where I turned it in without any hitches.
My original plan was to go from Crete to Rhodes and then into Turkey from there, but because of the reduced winter ferry schedules I couldn’t make that happen. The easiest thing for me to do was go back to Athens via Santorini and then take trains into Turkey, so I did that. Natalia, Taryn and Lambrose were all headed for Santorini as well… on the same day. So we all went together. Our ferry pulled into Santorini and the girls had already made arrangements to stay at Perissa so they had transport waiting for them. Lambrose and I decided to stay in Fira, the main city and catch up with them later. The usual crowd of people looking to rent out their rooms greeted the ferry as well so Lambrose and I split up to see the lowest price we could get. After talking with a couple of people who insisted that I wouldn’t find a better deal than 30 euros a night, then 20, I bargained a man down to 15 euros a night for my own room. Not bad at all considering that a room like this would cost no less than 70 in summer high season. Lambrose caught up and we hopped in his van to go check out the rooms. They turned out to be better than we expected and we got our own separate rooms across the hall from each other. I took a walk around the town, but it was completely fogged in and spitting rain so I took the time to do my laundry and rented a couple of movies for that night. The movie place was pretty picked over, but I got Blood Diamond and The Last King of Scotland – two that I had been meaning to watch for a long time. Both are extremely good.
The next day the weather was only slightly better and I spent the day walking around the city checking prices to rent scooters and atvs, which proved to be too expensive. That night the weather was turning for the worse so we got dinner and went to bed early. The next day the weather was finally starting to turn in our favor so Lambrose and I decided to walk from Fira to Oia about 15km away. For most of the walk there was a path leading along the caldera with incredible views, but the last half is just along the roadside. Oia was a really cool town and much like Fira it was built along the cliff’s edge and has stunning scenery, but it was even quieter. The streets were empty and for a while it seemed we almost had the town to ourselves aside from the few locals strolling about. We spent a few hours checking out the city and caught a bus back to Fira which concluded a long day. I sent an email off to Taryn and Natalia who were still in Perissa saying that we may be headed that way the next day, but it was the wrong address and they never got it.
Nevertheless we caught a bus down to Perissa the next morning to see if we could find them and immediately after stepping off the bus we saw Natalia standing right there and Taryn was just around the corner. We all remarked about the odd coincidence and talked for a bit about what everyone was doing that day. The girls were set on walking from Perissa to Red Beach, almost as far as Lambrose and I had walked the day before, so he decided to split off and check out an archaeological site nearby and I went on the walk to Red Beach. It proved further than I thought. After the long walk we waited around and caught what we thought was a bus back to Perissa, but actually went straight to Fira so the girls got a taxi back to their place. Later that night me, Lambrose and Natalia met up for drinks at a local Irish bar in Fira that was throwing a 3-days-late Halloween party. Originally I was planning to catch the 7am ferry back to Athens the next morning, but the night ran long and I slept in. Lambrose was leaving around 2pm so we had lunch and talked Australian politics before parting ways. I ended up catching the overnight ferry from Santorini back to Athens the next day. As I was waiting for the bus to the port that night I met an old American couple that had just finished a folk dancing cruise-tour. We talked for a bit before getting on the bus and making our way onto the ferry. After that I wandered around the ship looking for a place to plug in my laptop so that I could work on some pictures. I found a place in a seating area, plugged in and sat down. As I was working someone who was laying down in the seats behind me woke up and started to stand to leave and we looked at eachother and jumped because it turned out to be Natalia. I knew they were on the ship, but I had no idea where and just happened to sit down right in front of her. We talked for a bit before trying (in vain for me) to get some sleep.
The ferry pulled into Athens and we all made our way to the train station and got tickets for our respective destinations. It came to my stop and we said goodbye for something like the 4th time as I left. Having been to Athens before I knew my way around, except this time it was 5am and the streets were completely empty. It was an odd experience walking around the Plaka (the central area around the Acropolis) with none of the shops open and only a few stray dogs as company. I got to the hostel I was staying at for the night, checked in and took a nap on the couch. I woke up around lunch time and got some food before heading back to my room. There I met John-Henry and Julia (a Kiwi and an Aussie respectively) who were traveling together with quite a story to tell… They had met only a week earlier on a train and apparently Julia had flown into Europe on a whim with only her purse and the clothes she was wearing at the time. Also in the room was Tulsey and nice Canadian girl. Julia went to bed early and John-Henry, Tulsey and I went about doing our laundry and having dinner. The laundromat turned out to be quite a happening place. As we waited for our clothes to dry more people from the hostel kept showing up to do their laundry and soon enough we had a sizeable little group hanging out.
The next morning I caught a train to Kalambaka, Greece around midday. I didn’t make it there until around 9pm because of some confusion about my transfer and a no-show train. Once there I caught a cab to Kastraki just a few kilometers away to find a room near Meteora. After asking a couple of people about rooms I found a place and settled in for the night. The next morning I woke up and pulled the curtains from my window revealing the towering rocky pinnacles of Meteora hanging over the small village. I was quite surprised since I had no idea this room had a view. I set out to explore the area, but the weather was overcast and threatened me with rain throughout the day. Despite this, Meteora proved to be one of the most spectacularly gorgeous and incredible areas I have ever seen. Wandering around I found myself second guessing the fact that I was actually awake because the scenery is so dreamlike. Its not something I would expect to find in reality. How these monasteries could be built atop peaks such as these in the 16th century can give the imagination quite a work out.
My room in the small village was a little expensive and I only expected to stay two nights, but I woke up the next morning and found crystal clear blue skies and couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. I set out through the area again and shot more photos with the much improved weather. I also found myself wandering for the better part of an hour along a random trail through the woods. I saw the entrance to this trail marked by a primitive cobble stone path leading through the forest so I followed it on a whim. It lead a good way into the forest and between two of the peaks, the cobble stones disappearing and reappearing the whole way. Eventually the odd little trail lead me to an iron gate with stone path beyond it. The gate was unlocked, so I opened it and continued on. It lead to the entrance of one of the monasteries perched on a cliff’s edge. It turned out to be one I had actually visited the day before, I had just found a back way in. I continued up the road back to one of the monasteries that was closed the day earlier and visited that one. Though the monasteries draw a good bit of tourism they are still in use and priests and nuns actually live in the ones that remain standing.
After I finished my second trek through Meteora I walked back to Kalambaka to check on train times for the next day. I turned in early and woke up around 6am to catch my train to Thessaloniki at 7:40. I arrived there around 10am and decided pretty randomly to go ahead and press on to Istanbul that night. I bought my ticket for the overnight train, locked up my bags and set out to explore the city all day. I caught the train and after a long night of off and on sleeping and standing in a police station at 4:30am to buy my Turkish visa, here I sit at my hostel in Istanbul, Turkey.
Having checked the visa requirements for Syria, which I would have to pass through if I were to head any further south to Jordan or Israel, I have decided to just fly out of Istanbul after exploring a bit more of Turkey. I still need to buy the ticket, but I find that making that leap is similar to that of buying my first ticket to get out here. It sets a deadline and guarantees my exit from Europe and on to a less known territory for me. I’ll buy it tomorrow, I think, since I’m anxious to have a beach to lay on for a couple weeks. I’m beginning to feel a bit burnt out from moving around so much and being on the road for so long, so when I get to Thailand I’m going to find a little bungalow on the beach (which you can rent out for about $8 a night) and just settle down and chill out for a week or two. Then I also plan on going to the island of Koh Tao to do my dive certification over the course of a week. Should be good.
-Tyler
Decisions
I arrived in Cesky Krumlov mid afternoon after a long bus ride from Prague and made my way to the “Krumlov House” hostel that I had booked the day before. Cesky (pronounced “Chesky”) Krumlov is quite a place indeed. A UNESCO hertiage site, the red-roofed cobble stone city is built around an impressive castle complete with grizzly bears in its moat. The city’s charm is indescribable and it reminds me of nowhere else I’ve ever been. I wasn’t surprised in the least to learn that my hostel’s staff was made up of other travelers who had decided to stay a few months longer than planned. Being October, the off-season was setting in and the streets were increasingly quiet which was nice change from Prague. The first night there I met up with an Australian named Trent and we hiked up to a small church on a hill that overlooked the city for sunset. After that we got cleaned up and went out to dinner with a couple of other people from the hostel and the two girls that ran the hostel. We ate at a place that was right on the river which ran just below the castle. It was chilly there, however, so the restaurant gives you blankets to wrap up in while you eat and enjoy the view. The next day I met a Canadian named Judy, which, little did I know at the time I would end up traveling with for about 16 days. That morning we made reservations for our group of 5 at a popular Czech BBQ joint for dinner. By the end of the day the group had ballooned to 9 as we all met more people to invite. After Rachel, Judy and I made the reservations we went to a National Geographic photography exhibit that was showing in the city. As I looked over the pictures ranging from the Society’s first published photos to the present I felt a familiar sense of awe and longing… the same sense that I used to get flipping through stacks of old NG magazines when I was little. All I could think to myself was: “I want this.”
I spent the rest of the day wandering the castle’s gardens and a little of the countryside beyond it before heading back to the hostel and then to dinner. I had given up on Munich and decided to head towards Vienna where I found later that Judy was also heading too so we decided to travel down together. The next morning I met her at another hostel to catch the bus into Austria. In Paris I met two Canadians named Greg and Taylor who originally told me about Cesky Krumlov. In Paris, Greg flew out to Switzerland a few days early and Taylor caught a flight to Hong Kong the same day I left for Belgium. More than a month later and without any contact in between I bumped into Greg at this hostel in Cesky. We live in a very small world.
The bus to Austria was really a van and the driver took us speeding through a mountain pass that looked very much like “the back way”. It literally felt like on of those interactive movie rides where you sit down in front of a screen and the seat moves and shakes you around. Without too much delay we crossed the border and arrived in Linz, Austria just in time to catch our train to Vienna. Vienna ended up being a quick stop as Judy and I walked around the city well into the night and decided to leave for Bratislava the next morning. When I met up with her the next morning she had met another American guy named Rich who was also headed to Bratislava so he joined us as we took the train into Slovakia. Our last day in Bratislava turned out to be quite an adventure. We all debated between taking a bus or a train to Hungary and eventually we flipped a coin and went with the bus, however we missed the one we needed by about 5 minutes. After that we decided to go with the next train out a few hours later. We went from the bus station across town to the train station where we checked our backpacks into the luggage room and used our extra time to check out the castle about a 30 minute walk away. Our plan was to just walk to the castle, explore it a bit and then leave in time to hail a cab to the train station. It went smoothly until it came time to find a cab to the station… since there were none.
Our train (the last one to Budapest that day) would leave in about 20 minutes and we had 30 minutes of walking to do. We moved quickly, trying in vain to spot a cab along the way. As time grew shorter we hopped a city bus and rode it a few stops and jumped off just before it turned down the wrong street. We were still about 5 blocks away and it was coming down to the wire so as soon as we left the bus we ran all out back up the hill to the station, grabbed our bags and dashed to the platform just in time… to realize our train was late and we had 15 extra minutes. You can’t help but laugh at situations like that. Once the train arrived we elbowed our way onboard to find that it was packed. There were people standing in the aisles and all of the compartments were full or so it seemed. We were all sweaty and tired from the run so we asked the conductor about upgrading to first class so we could get seats. He informed us that the 1st class car was actually deemed 2nd class since there were no 1st class tickets actually offered for this train. This information didn’t seem to be widely known as we scored a compartment all to ourselves in the 1st class car and did some much needed relaxing. After about 20 minutes a man arrived at our cabin holding out a badge that said “ticket inspector”… but he was wearing no uniform and didn’t have the usual machine to stamp our tickets. We gave him our tickets, but I was pretty suspicious of the whole situation especially when he told us that this was first class and that he would have to charge us for an upgrade when there was a “2” clearly visible on our door and the uniformed conductor specifically told us otherwise. After we explained that the uniformed person told us to come to this car he told us he would be back in 5 minutes and we never saw him again.
Our train’s engine failed twice and they had to hook another one on which delayed us for a little over an hour. We arrived in Budapest after dark an in the rain. We didn’t have a hostel yet so we stumbled around in the downpour until we found one I had been looking at online the day before. After we laid our things down we went about finding dinner, but we were all getting a bit testy having had our patience taxed so thoroughly throughout the long day. We got some goulash at a cafe and had a drink before Judy went back to the hostel and Rich and I hit a local billiards joint to shoot some pool over a few beers. The next morning we all slept in, cooked a nice breakfast and took it easy. Budapest turned out to be quite a good town to settle down in for a few days. We explored the sights, visited one of the famous thermal bath houses, feasted in a medieval cellar, and I was introduced to Edelweiss, the best beer I’ve had to date.
From Budapest Rich had to get back to Frankfurt to catch his flight back to the states so we said our goodbyes at the train station early the last morning before Judy and I headed south to Zagreb, Croatia where we had decided to rent a car for 4 days. Splitting the cost it was only about $55 each which I thought was a good splurge especially since they gave us a much nicer car than I reserved. From Zagreb we drove south towards Plitvice Lakes National Park, but it was around 8pm by the time we got in. There are no hostels outside of major cities in Croatia, but private accommodation is cheap, plentiful and government regulated… mostly. Usually its just person or family who has sectioned off part of their house to rent out rooms. We averaged about $20 or less a night each for an apartment style room with a kitchen throughout Croatia. After we found our room for the night after driving down from Zagreb we got some sleep and left early to explore the park the next day.
Plitvice Lakes National Park is a series of “Falling Lakes”, lakes that are essentially spilling over and cascading down into more lakes, which are doing the same and so on. To say the park’s beauty is breathtaking would be a gross disservice. The waters are crystal clear and tinted with a brilliant turquoise color that, when set against the colors that Autumn brings, makes it hard to look away. Here, I believe I have to let my pictures do the talking since its quite hard to describe how utterly gorgeous it is.
After spending a full day wandering the park we got another room in the area that night, cooked an awesome dinner, complete with soup, sausage and spaghetti and crashed out. We got an early start the next morning and drove out toward the coast. I was quite surprised at how varied the landscape was and how quickly it changed. We drove through gently rolling mountains that reminded me quite a lot of where I’m from, but 30 minutes later we were winding down craggy mountain roads that led to the country’s ragged rocky shores. We spent all day driving down the awesome coast and stopping at a few small towns along the way. We ended up staying in a little place called Biograd for the night before dropping the car off in Split the next day. After leaving Split we caught a ferry out to the island of Hvar where it was warm and sunny enough for a swim. The beaches were all rock, so we walked along the coast until we saw a good place to get in. Upon doing so my camera (waterproof) fell out of my pocket and down to the bottom. I didn’t have a mask, so I tried to spot it and dive down a few times. On the last attempt I came up to the surface and realized I couldn’t see… my contacts had been washed out of my eyes as I was looking for the camera. Judy walked back to town to find some goggles while I waited at the beach. Not long after she left an old German couple showed up for a swim… with a mask and snorkel. After some broken German, broken English and makeshift sign language the man dove down and came up with my camera. I thanked him and laid in the sun until Judy got back with the goggles. By that time the sun was going down and the air was turning colder so we headed back to the hostel we were staying at and cooked some dinner.
Leaving Hvar we took another ferry to the island of Korcula (Korchula) which, in my opinion was even more impressive than Hvar, which is really saying something. Again I’ll leave the description to the photos. After a couple of nights there we caught our last ferry to Dubrovnik on the mainland. From Dubrovnik Judy had to head back up north to catch her flight back to Holland and then back to Canada, so we parted ways as I headed south into Montenegro. On my own once again, I arrived in Kotor, Montenegro around 11pm and found the same kind of private accommodation as Croatia. I stayed in Kotor that night and the night after just to unwind a bit from so much moving around in Croatia. While I was there I hiked up the old ramparts to the fortress built on the cliffs overlooking the city. It was quite an incredible walk and the view was magnificent. Eager to keep moving south toward Greece I decided to leave Kotor and get into Tirana, Albania for a day or two before finally getting to Athens. I got a bus to the very southern end of Montenegro to the city of Ulcinj. I arrived there mid afternoon and found that the only bus that crosses into Albania doesn’t leave until 6am the next morning. I was approached by a cabbie who offered either a room for the night or direct passage across the border to Shkodra, Albania where I could catch a minibus to Tirana. Considering the prices and the look of Ulcinj I decided to keep moving and took the cab ride. We sped along through old worn roads and rocky passes and I noticed things getting more and more disorderly the closer we got to Albania. I literally knew nothing of Albania save for what I had read in my guidebook (which wasn’t much) and had no idea what to expect going in. We arrived at the Montenegrin checkpoint where the cab driver leaned over, pulled a screwdriver out of the glove box and proceeded to pop the “Taxi” sign off of the top of his car. We moved on to the Albanian checkpoint where I paid the 10 euro “entrance tax” (there’s another 10 when you leave) and got my stamp before we pressed on to Shkodra.
I have to admit I was pretty surprised at what I was greeted with upon entering Albania… the outskirts of Shkodra looked almost 3rd world. Dusty trash-lined streets ran through the worn out city and the traffic was pure chaos. I’m sure its nothing compared to some of the places I will find myself later on, but this was my first brush with this type of environment and I can’t deny experiencing a bit of culture shock. I thanked the cabbie and made my way over to where the minibuses were gathered and negotiated a ride to Tirana. Albania has no official bus system, the transport within the country consists of Furgons (minibuses) who wait around at certain points and leave whenever they have enough people to make the trip profitable. Riding through the countryside towards Tirana we passed old communist block buildings and countless little bunkers that are dotted across the land. Some parts looked alright, but we also passed shanty towns.
Tirana is the capitol city of Albania, but it isn’t much different from the rest of what I saw. The streets are dirty and incredibly dusty, a lot of buildings in disrepair, but despite the state of the city its really quite safe and I find it growing on me. I had a great time wandering through the back alley markets where people sell phones and cameras out of the trunks of their cars and watching the crazy traffic whiz by. Every time I cross the road it feels like I’m playing a game of Frogger. The frequent power blackouts all over the city can be a real pain, but people cope. Its history is fascinating to say the least and I could see myself spending a bit more time exploring the country, but I’m leaving for Greece tomorrow because I’m anxious to be on my way and I guess I should explain why…
It was on the islands of Croatia that I made a bit of a large decision… this trip is officially no longer just Europe. Over the course of these travels I’ve had an itch to keep moving east and stray out of Europe–to just keep going. I’ve said all along that once I get to Greece I would check my money and depending on whether or not I could afford I would keep moving towards Asia. Well I’m at that point and I’ve checked my remaining cash and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I should be in Turkey by November (yes, despite the stupid things my country is doing to upset our relations with them) and my rough guideline from there takes me south through Syria and Jordan before flying out to Dubai and on to India where I’ll head north into Nepal then east through Bangladesh and Myanmar on my way to Thailand, Vietnam, Laos etc. Or I may just fly direct to India or Thailand from Istanbul… I still need to check flights and make some decisions, but I’m definitely headed east. I really regret missing Spain and Italy, two of my top countries to visit in Europe, but I’ll make it back to them at some point. Right now my focus is on other things. I’m on an overnight bus to Athens tomorrow night, I’ll keep you posted. A tidal wave of pictures should arrive shortly…
-Tyler
Day 50
I apologize in advance for this giant block of text that I’m about to put here. I hope it doesn’t look daunting enough to keep you from reading on.
Today is October 1st and Autumn is settling in across Europe. The air is becoming crisper, the leaves have begun to shift and fall and I can see my breath hang in the morning hours. Just as clearly as I feel the change of the season, so too do I feel the change in my life. I have been on the road for one month and twenty days and it has become apparent that this journey is the single best thing that I have ever done. I have learned just as much about myself and what I’m capable of as I have about the places that I have visited and the people that I have met. Not going on the road like this again is no longer an option. If I can’t find a job that lets me travel, then I will use the job I can get to travel.
Its been quite some time since I’ve updated with a post and there is no way I can fit everything that has happened into one, so I will try to give a quick rundown of where I’ve been since leaving Paris. After exiting France to the North I went into Belgium and stopped in Bruges and Antwerp before pushing even further north into Holland where I hit Rotterdam and Amsterdam. And what a town Amsterdam is… there’s no real way to describe it, but I’ll just say that it was quite interesting being in a country more free than my own. After that I moved east to Germany where I made a quick stop in Bremen before getting to Berlin, where I inadvertently started a trek through the thick history of this whole area. The hostel I stayed in was only a few feet from the East Side Gallery, one of the last remaining stretches of the Berlin Wall. The city itself is still very visibly sowing the East and West back together and its skyline is dominated by building cranes. I took a free walking tour around the city which led past a recently completed Holocaust memorial, the parking lot under which Hitler’s bunker still remains, the old Luftwaffe headquarters, Checkpoint Charlie, and many other historical sites. My stay in Berlin was cut short, however, by lack of beds available at hostels in the city so I took a night train into Poland and stopped in Warsaw for a few days before moving on to Krakow. Krakow is a beautiful city and quite a lot of fun, but it was something outside the city that I found most important. It is something everyone should see… indeed, must see for it is one of the most potent reminders in the world of what horrors human beings are capable of. It is a place called Auschwitz.
Few names carry more weight than this and it is rightfully so. Outside of Krakow there are two concentration camps, the original Auschwitz camp and its expansion just a few kilometers away, Birkenau, or Auschwitz II. As you enter the first camp, which is now a museum open to the public for free, you pass two layers of electrified barbed wire fencing and under an iron banner that reads “Arbeit Macht Frei” or “Work Brings Freedom.” Inside you find displays of living conditions and physical evidence of the mass murder that took place here. Piles upon piles of shoes, luggage, human hair which the Nazis sold to the textile industry, glasses, artificial limbs taken from the disabled, children’s clothing… infant’s clothing. You also find the prison block where the first test of using Cyclone B gas to kill large numbers of people took place… and the first specialized gas chamber and crematorium they built after it’s success. Once finished touring the first camp it is imperative that you catch the quick shuttle to Birkenau.
The first thing you notice about Birkenau upon arriving at the gate is it’s horrifying size. It absolutely dwarfs the original Auschwitz in scale. I have seen towns smaller than this camp. Most of it’s buildings were lost in fires during the liberation, but what still remains is more than worth seeing. The living conditions here were even worse and the death toll much, much higher. In Birkenau they built two more gas chambers, but unlike the first one in Auschwitz which could hold about 200 people at a time… these could each hold 2000.
After leaving the camps with heavy thoughts one tends to ask “how could this have happened?” This question, though, is not the right one. The question you must ask yourself after witnessing something like this is “how can genocide still be happening in this day and age?”
My last night in Krakow I caught a nasty cold from my lack of warm clothing in the continually cooler weather. The next day, after procuring some cold medicine I took a (really crappy) night train into the Czech Republic’s capitol city: Prague. While on the train, just before going to bed, the ticket guy in our car warned me and the other Americans that were in my compartment to keep valuables close and the compartment door locked because of gypsies on the train who were known to steal. It comes with the territory I suppose. I arrived in Prague around 7am without incident, but found the train station to be one of the sketchier ones I’ve been through complete with shady characters and a dodgey black-lit bathroom. I had booked my first hostel the day before, but I didn’t have the address or phone number and all of the information desks didn’t open until 9am, so I wandered around the station looking for anything I could use to find the address of the place. I checked my guidebook and noticed that it listed an internet cafe near the old town square that was open so I started walking. I got there around 8:30am and found the address, which happened to be right around the corner from the cafe. Since I was sick and exhausted from hosteling for the past two weeks I had booked a one person private room for a night to relax and get some much needed sleep.
After I checked in the receptionist lead me a block away to a completely different building and up to my own little apartment room… for about $55 a night. Score. I went out and bought a sweater and a new belt since the last notch on my old one is too loose now and spent the rest of the day relaxing, medicating and just recharging my batteries. I got a good night’s sleep and feeling a bit better the next day, I moved on to a hostel across town where I bumped into two american sisters that I had met at my hostel in Krakow. I’ve spent the past few days hanging with them and a group of Aussies checking out a bit of Prague’s night life… which is pretty awesome, I have to say. I love Prague, the city is stunning but I feel I’ve stayed one day too many and its definitely time to be moving on. I leave tomorrow for Cesky Krumlov on the recommendation of two Canadians I met in Paris. From Cesky, I figure I have two options: Continue southeast toward Vienna, Austria… or southwest toward Munich where Oktoberfest is in full swing. The only problem with Munich is finding a place to stay since everything is booked solid for the festival. We shall see.
Another picture post should follow soon.
-Tyler
Six Last Nights in Paris
I came to this city expecting to spend about 3 days here. I have now been here 9. The last 6 nights have all literally been my “last night in Paris.” I go to bed every night fully expecting to leave the next morning, but something always happens to keep me here just one more day. I must admit, though, that I’m never very reluctant to stay another night because… Well, I love Paris. And, thus far, it seems fairly fond of me as well.
I’d heard much talk of how rude Parisians in general can be, especially to those who don’t speak French. However, as far as I can tell, this reputation is undeserved. It seems to me that as long as you make a real effort to speak the language as much as you can, they are more than happy to help you out. And efforts like this should be expected. Afterall if someone came up to you in an english speaking country and started asking you questions in a language you didn’t understand without even a slight effort to speak english, how would you treat them?
Paris is probably the most over romanticized city in the world, but that is not to say it isn’t romantic. Quite the contrary, in fact. It has all the problems of any major city: homelessness, beggars, sketchy areas, crime, litter etc and yet through it all it still somehow manages to retain that air of romance that it has been labeled with for so long. Simply having a look around will explain to you with a precise clarity exactly why so many people flock to the “city of love.” To say this city is “beautiful” would be a gross understatement.
From the Arc de Triumph to the Eiffel Tower, from Sacre Coeur to Notre Dam, Montmartre to the Louvre and all wonder it contains… every turn offers another opportunity to pick you jaw up from the street. So much to see contained in such a relatively small area is a recipe for greatness.
My first impression, however, was not so fond. I arrived in the middle of the day after a good bit of traveling and had a hard time finding the tourism office, where I was going to find a place to stay that night. Once I did find it and a place to stay I got some very frustrating directions to the Metro station and ended up toting my full pack around in the heat for 45 minutes followed by a crowded subway ride. By the time I checked into the hostel it was around dinner time and I didn’t feel like going out and exploring the city so I decided to take it easy and made my way out to the patio where a group of people were chatting. I took a seat and everyone was introduced by an englishman named Paul. After talking a bit Paul asked “Are you doing anything tonight?” to which I replied “…No.” “You are now” he said. He took us all out to local pub and we had a great time talking.
I spent the next day out exploring the Montmartre district where I met Greg and Taylor, two canadians who had been on the road for quite some time. They were looking for a hostel so I showed them the way to mine and we all ended up in the same room. The day after that the three of us went to the Louvre together. The building itself is just as gorgeous as many of the works it contains. I found myself in awe staring at 5000 year old egyptian relics, countless masterful sculptures and paintings and of course The Mona Lisa. After leaving the Louvre I branched off on my own and took a quiet stroll along the Seine River before reaching Notre Dam. Its hard for me to describe what it is like to actually see things like the Louvre or Notre Dam because I don’t know of words that could convey the experience.
The next day I set out alone and walked from the Louvre to the Arc de Triumph to the Eiffel Tower, suspecting that this may be my last day. Once I got back to the hostel Paul and a new group of people invited Taylor Greg and I out. It was a great night and that’s all I will say here. Far too much has happened over my time in Paris to go into every detail so I will summarize: I watched the sunset at the Eiffel Tower, I ate crepes, I sang Bohemian Rhapsody along with 3 canadians in a Karaoke bar, I became an honorary Australian, I was offered a job bartending at Paul’s bar in the south of Spain that I am seriously considering taking, I had more fun and saw more things than I have in the past 4 years combined, I lived, and on my 5th last night I met Agnes.
I was in a bar hanging out with the “United Nations” (our group of people from the hostel) and I had a nice conversation with a girl from Marseilles. When it was time to leave we exchanged emails and I didn’t think much of it. I was already set to be on a bus to Brussels the next day and when I woke up I packed my bags before I checked the internet. There was an email from Agnes saying that she enjoyed the conversation and suggested that we meet for coffee that night. My bus left in one hour and I know from experience that I would regret getting on it. And so came my 6th last night in Paris.
I met up with her in front of the fountain of St. Michel at 8pm and we sat down for a drink. We had a good conversation before wandering the streets passing the Pantheon and seeing the Eiffel Tower sparkling (literally) in the distance. We stopped for crepes and wandered into one last place for drinks before calling it a night. As we stood on a bridge at 1am, the cold wind whipping by us and Notre Dam alight in the background, we kissed. We both knew that we would probably never see each other again for it was also her last night in Paris, but we saw our moment and we took it. So it goes.
Belgium tomorrow. Or so I plan.
-Tyler
“Its times like these you learn to live again” -Dave GrohlUntitled
After leaving Kilkenny I spent my last day and a half in Ireland in the odd little beach town of Tramore. I was headed to Waterford, but I couldn’t find a place to stay so I took a local bus to the next town over with a hostel — Tramore. There wasn’t much to do in town so I hiked out to the Sand dunes just beyond the beach on the recommendation of a poster in the hostel. Apparently even the sand dunes in Ireland are covered in green grass and I chuckled to myself at how fitting that was. Back at the hostel I was cooking spaghetti for myself when I met a German girl named Leena and after chatting for a bit we met Corey, a Canadian who was doing pretty much the same thing as me. We all took it easy and talked about our trips and travels before getting a quiet pint at a local pub. And thus my last night in Ireland passed on without incident.
The next morning I made my way past Wexford and into Rosslare harbor where I found my ferry, which looked more like a small cruise-liner. I checked into my cabin which was about the size of a closet and laid my things down before watching them load all of the cars (including semi-trucks) into the boat and pull away from the harbor.
After two weeks of being grouped in the same room with 6-8 other people it was worth the little extra price for a cabin to myself. I spent most of the time wandering the deck of the ship enjoying the view and just being on the ocean in general. The moon was full and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
After pulling into port in Roscoff, I had no idea where I was staying so I went straight to the information office. A friend had recommended a place called Saint Malo and it was on the way to Paris so I decided to make that my first stop. Once I arrived there by train I couldn’t find the tourism office, so I asked a person working at the train station where it was. He told me that it was about a 10 minute walk… it was 20. Normally that’s no problem at all, but it was particularly hot that day and I had my full pack to carry. Once I lugged everything to the office I found a campsite that I could walk to and overlooked the harbor… another 30 minutes away. The walk was worth it, though, because I got to see the city center as I passed by. The entire original area of the city is surrounded by 50ft high ramparts and a gothic church spire in the center towers over everything. Old forts are built on surrounding islands that can only be walked to in low tide when the sun sets over this city… it is a sight that will never leave your mind. Without doubt one the most beautiful cities I have encountered up to this point.
I got to the campsite and paid for my little pitch area before setting my tent up. Afterwards I set out for a walk to find a place to use the internet since I had been out of contact for a few days while I traveled. The walk led me miles back to and around the city center and further down the coast to an internet shop. I didn’t get back to the campsite until midnight since I had arrived in the city so late. My first night in the tiny tent proved fairly sleepless. Using a shirt for a pillow wasn’t helping the situation, either. I don’t mind camping, but the problem is that it slims your chances of meeting people to hang out with by about 99%. I spent 3 restless days in St. Malo and all of them alone. There was enough to see to keep me busy, so it was still great nonetheless. After the 3rd day I pressed on to Paris unknowing of what was in store for me there.
-Tyler
Guiness in Galway, France on Friday.
I am physically exhausted, I’m low on sleep, it has rained at least some every single day I’ve been here, my last shower had no hot water and I am more happy now than I can remember being in a very long time. I have been on the road now for a week and one day, but it feels more like a month. I have seen and done more in the past 7 days than the entire 3 months I was at home. I have met more good people and had more fun than I have in some whole years. This trip is already more than I expected… and I’ve only been gone a single week.
After leaving Doolin I set my sights on the city of Galway a bit to the north. And what a city it is. I arrived by bus around lunch time and walked to the Sleepzone hostel that I had booked only that morning. I walked in and found this particular hostel to be buzzing with people of all ages and nationalities. Older couples traveling on the cheap and even families with smaller children were staying here (and quite enjoying it, I must say). It seemed more like an odd type of hotel where some rooms have 3 sets of bunk beds instead of twins. I checked into my room and found that I was the first to arrive, so I put down my things and went for a walk.
Once you breach the main city center the streets are cobbled and bustling with foot traffic. There is a vast array of colorful street performers doing there respective acts and on this particular day I was greeted with one playing a beautiful rendition of Yesterday by The Beatles on his saxaphone. Shortly thereafter, though, it began to pour rain. I stumbled upon a small electronics shop and bought a working power adapter and headed back for then. While sitting back in the room the next traveler popped in and set his things down. We greeted each other and had a good chat. He was a german by the name of Cornelius and he had some food with him so, after a bit we decided to head up to the kitchen and cook it for dinner. It was simple spaghetti, just noodles and sauce and whatever we could find to add to it. As we stumbled around the communal kitchen cooking this embarrassingly simple dish, there was a group of about 6 French hostelers buzzing around us, tossing spices and basting thighs of chicken for roasting. A genuine feast and it smelled of it as well. The conversation over the spaghetti made up for its lack of taste, though.
After dinner Cornelius and I headed back out into the town to see what kind of happenings were going on after dark. It seems Galway undergoes a bit of a transformation from day to night. The streets were just as packed with people, but the shoppers had turned to revelers, the sax players to fire-throwers, the coffee and tea to limitless mugs of Guiness.
(On the subject of guiness, I feel I should take a moment here to say that I will never drink it in the states again. The difference is so startling that it is like comparing wine to grape that has been rotting in the sun for two weeks. Maybe that’s a little extreme, but make no mistake: it is vast. The head on the Guiness here is less like foam and more like a fine cream. The care they take in pouring it and letting it settle for a certain amount of time before serving it is awe inspiring. And it actually tastes good.) This was just a Wednesday, by the way. We made our way through a few pubs and headed back for the night. Cornelius left the next morning, but I decided to stay an extra day. I went out and explored more of the daytime version of the city and got to know it a little better.
Afterward I sat down in Eyre square to relax for a bit. I was approached by a Japanese guy about my age who asked if he could interview me about learning English. His name was Norio and he was living in Ireland on his gap-year and trying to improve his english by interviewing 100 people and having conversations with them (which is a fantastic way to do it). I was number 77. I answered his questions and we talked about Japan for a bit. One of his questions was “What is your favorite word?” my answer was “Shenanigans”… which I had a hard time defining for him. One of his last questions was to write down my definition of creativity and to show him my creativity on the same piece of paper. …It was a hard interview. “Creativity is one’s ability realize the imagined”, I wrote after some thought. I did a quick stylized sketch of a nearby guitar player and handed him the paper before signing his shirt along with the 76 others he had interviewed and I wished him luck as he moved on. It started to rain. I smiled.
Back at the hostel before dinner I was alone in the room once more. I had a bit of deja vu when another traveler entered, put his things down, had a good chat and we decided to cook dinner. He was a British guy named Adam. As we walked to the grocery store for food the plan was breaded fish fillets served over fresh vegetables. We came back with a bag of mixed frozen vegetables and fish sticks. Again, as we threw this hodgepodge dinner together a different group of French, though much younger this time, were whipping up a huge batch of fresh spaghetti carbonara. Perhaps out of pitty for our burnt fish sticks they offered us each a small plate of the spaghetti… which was incredible. Especially since it was made by a 13 year old. I think I could cook eggs when I was 13…
Much like the night before, Adam and I headed out into the city and found things just getting started around 11pm. We wandered into an incredible pub called The Quay and stayed there for the rest of the night because the band that was playing was so good. The pub itself though really stood out. When you first walk in, it looks like a normal crowded bar, but when you push past the first wave of people you find stairs that lead down into an open area with another bar and a balcony overhead where the band plays over the crowd. It had the look of an old renovated church and the atmosphere was incredible. The band was cheered to an encore. By then it was about 1:30am so I headed back to the room while Adam decided stay out for a while.
The next morning I decided to head south again for the small town of Lisdoonvarna to explore the Burren and Adam decided to do the same so we traveled down together. The first day there was a total wash out, it rained nonstop and I couldn’t get to the heart of the Burren without a car or hiring a taxi or biking 30 miles. Adam took a bus to the Cliffs since he hadn’t seen them yet and I walked into town for lunch. I stopped at a place called The Roadside Tavern on the recommendation of the hostel staff. As I walked inside I found an old Irish lady in a wheelchair singing in Gaelic (beautifully) to a crowd of about 15 Chinese tourists. They were the only people there and it looked to be a totally spontaneous thing. I just sat down and watched it all unfold as I ate my chicken sandwich. It was really cool, but in an eerie sort of way. Like I had just stepped into a dream. After lingering for a bit I payed I exited back out into the rain and reality to continue on. I walked around the town a bit and down the road, but there wasn’t anything to do so I headed back to the hostel and used the time to catch up on emails.
Once Adam got back from the cliffs he, I and another American named Andrew all went out for dinner. Once the time came to pay, we realized that they didn’t take credit… it was at this time that we were informed that the nearest ATM was 9km away. We scraped every last bit of Euros we all had together and paid for the dinner… thus the Search for Cash was underway. I was able to change the little bit of US currency I had left (not including my emergency stash) into Euros, but it wasn’t enough to sustain me for long and Adam had nothing. The next morning we were supposed to go biking around the Burren area, but due to the situation we were forced to leave around 10:30am to get to the cash machine at the Cliffs of Moher instead. Bus schedules didn’t allow us to get back to the hostel to rent the bikes until 2pm. Once we did finally get to the bikes we had to fix the breaks ourselves before heading out around 3pm. It was all worth it, of course, because the Burren was some of the most incredible country I have ever seen.
We took the bikes down to the Ballyvaughn Coast Road which leads right along the rugged Burren coast line. I didn’t realize how out of shape my legs were until we hit the first up hill stretch of road leading to the coast. With a little walking, I made it though and soon enough we hit a long downhill stretch coasting passed ruined castles and farmland. This was only a small precursor of what was to come though. Once you pass the sign that reads “The Burren national protected area” and round a corner you wonder if you’ve somehow stumbled into a Lord of the Rings movie. Waves crash into the tattered rocky coast and worn boulders and rock walls criss-cross the fields of limestone and wild flowers. Truly a haunting land that you would only expect to find in fantasy.
We parked the bikes and hiked around the area for a good while before continuing on down the coast. After a while I was too exhausted to carry myself further since I knew I already had to go all the way back up the coast and the long hill we coasted down, so decided to turn back as Adam continued down the coast determined to find a beach that he could swim at. On the way back I stopped a few more times to take in the scenery before leaving the Burren and tackling the hill back toward the hostel.
I ended up walking the bike most of the way back up the hill because I was just so tired. You never realize how long a hill is when you’re headed down it, but going back up really brings things back into focus. About half way up I finished off the last of my water and my thighs began to cramp. I smiled. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
The next day Adam and I parted ways at Ennis as I headed down to Cork and he toward Dublin to catch his ferry back to England in a few days. Cork proved less exciting than my previous adventures. I wasn’t too fond of the city as I explored around it and decided to use the time to catch up on my writing and going through all of my pictures. Later, back at the hostel I met an American fiddle player named Jeff who had been down in the far southwest playing gigs around the local pubs for 3 months. We hung out for a bit that night before turning in early. We went to breakfast the next morning after I decided to stay one extra day there because I couldn’t figure out exactly where to go next. We ate at a place overlooking the English Market and while I was waiting for my food, who should I see pass below us other than Peter, Diza, Gliza and Hannah! I rushed down to meet them and we had a quick chat before I got back to breakfast and they got on their way to Dublin to catch a flight back to Vienna. Such a small world we live in. Or perhaps just the country. Jeff left for the airport in Cork after breakfast and I went back out to explore a bit more. Just before lunch I found an incredible place called St. Fin Barr’s Cathedral. I spent a good part of that day photographing it and making my way back through town in the rain.
The next morning I left for Kilkenny, where I now sit. I feel that it is time to move on, so I have booked an overnight ferry from Wexford, Ireland into Roscoff, France. Much to my dismay I am skipping the United Kingdom for now. 2 Pounds Sterling = 1 US Dollar and I can’t afford to be paying double for everything even for a few days, so as much as I don’t want to, I’ve made the decision to pass it by. The ferry leaves at 5pm on Friday and I have a room onboard to sleep as it doesn’t arrive until 11am Saturday morning. From there my plans once again disappear as the rest of Europe comes into my reach.
-Tyler
Of An Angry Irish Farmer
I may have made a mistake by coming to Ireland first… I just don’t know how anything I will come across could ever top what I did today. I hiked the Cliffs of Moher.
I woke up around 7am and dozed until about 9:30. As I got up and began getting dressed for my hike, I noticed that it was quite dreary and raining. But, this is what I got rain gear for so I finished getting ready and headed out. I started from my hostel in Doolin. I had talked with the manager the day before about walking to the cliffs and he explained the route to me. The main viewing area of the cliffs is a very very touristy area. There is an entrance fee and throngs of people. Buses continually drop off loads of people who flock to the site. There is another way, however, a treacherous back route that not too many know about.
It is not a marked trail, in fact there is a point where the “trail” disappears entirely and you have to wander across a field and really search to find it again (only to realize that it ascends so steeply up a grassy slope that you have to use your hands just as much as your feet to make it up… and that below this ascent lies no barrier from the edge of the cliff. Don’t slip). It is on private land and requires a lot of fence hopping (barbed and electric), creek (long)jumping, climbing, and most common of all, walking mere inches from the cliff’s edge. It was, in all honesty, dangerous in every sense of the word, but worth every risk for I haven’t the words to describe what I saw along the way.
About a third of the way through the hike, where the trail disappears, I stopped to get my bearings when a couple (about my age and the only others I had seen since I started down the trail) came up from behind. We greeted eachother and I said with a shrug: “I’m not sure where to go…” We all figured it out and continued on with the hike together. They were Austrians named Peter and Diza . We talked and got to know each other a bit as we pushed on through the rain, fences, mud and awe-inspiring cliff sides.
Eventually we did reach the touristy area at the end of our hike and we were on the outside of the protective railing, so we hopped over. Amongst the crowd we were greeted by an old Irish farmer in a yellow poncho, clearly angry. He smacked the sign with his cane as he ranted on about how we weren’t allowed on his land and how we should read the sign (saying that we weren’t allowed on his land). We explained that there were no signs coming from the other direction (there weren’t) and exited stage left, with haste.
Afterward, Peter and Diza invited me for a drink later and we swapped emails to send each other the pictures we took. They split off to find Diza’s sister(Gliza) and her friend(Hannah), who were already at the cliffs and I went about finding a way back to Doolin, because we all agreed that hiking back the way we came just wasn’t an option. We had just missed the last bus so I checked to see about a taxi. Peter and the others ran into me again and we decided to share it. We waited outside in the chilly rain for the taxi as we talked more. Once the taxi came, the five of us stuffed into the four seater and headed back to Doolin. There I was greeted with the best shower I have ever had. Normally it wouldn’t have been anything special, but after this walk it was like heaven.
We all met again later that night at O’Conners Pub for drinks and bite to eat. Afterward we listened to the Pub band crank out some traditional Irish tunes and they taught me some German as we played Uno. Later, we said our goodbyes and they insisted that I email them if I made it to Vienna so they could show me around. I intend to take them up on it. As I go to sleep tonight, I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping tomorrow… and I’m oddly comfortable with that. Nevertheless I’m leaving for Galway in the morning. Pictures to be added a little later… I need to find a new converter to charge my laptop first. And some wifi.
-Tyler
The Decision
Today, I have no new pictures or drawings to go along with this update. Only words. I have a few things I need to talk about with a few people. Big things. Things that will undoubtedly affect the course of my life. While it may not concern most people that come here, this is the one place where I can talk to my family, friends and everyone else all at the same time and that makes this the most appropriate area for discussion.
Ever since I first even ‘thought’ about joining the Navy, I’ve had a plan. And that is, to finish my four years, take my money and head straight to an art school for illustration. And I’ve held to that plan very well so far, but over the past year things have been brewing. Everything is changing. My views, ideas, interests, the very way I think and see the world has all shifted and I find myself questioning that plan. The kind of thing I would look to study in school would ultimately lead me to a job drawing at a desk and I don’t know if thats what I want anymore. And if that ‘is’ what I’m meant to do, then there’s a world I need to see before that happens.
In short, I’ve made a decision and I’m amending my plan. I’m not going to school right away after all. I said in my last post here that my dream was to take my camera and travel and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. This decision will come as more of a surprise to some than others, but I can assure you its nothing new. I’ve been mulling over it in my head for over a year now and if you’re wondering why you haven’t heard anything about it until now, its because its a pretty big decision and I needed to make it on my own. I didn’t want to be swayed one way or the other by the views of other people.
I’m still deciding as to where I’ll go. Maybe Europe, maybe South America… both if I can find a way. I’ll be backpacking for the most part and I want to make it last for about a year so I’ll probably be looking into ways to work a little along the way to help minimize the cost. And there ‘are’ ways. It won’t be easy, but Japan has given me more than enough experience in getting around countries where I don’t speak the language and I know this is something I can do. I’ll have my sketchpad with me the whole way since I can’t think of many things more inspiring than a trip like this and hopefully I’ll be able to work on a portfolio along the way for my eventual return to school.
Could this trip be a mistake? Sure. But, I’m not afraid to make them anymore. As time goes on it becomes more and more clear to me that I only have this one life, just this one chance to do everything I want to do and I’ve decided that I’m not going to squander one more second of it than I have to.
I’ll be logging all of my planning and progress here as it happens as well as the photos I’ll take along the way, so be sure to watch for that if you’re interested. I’m also curious as to what everyone thinks about this, or about any tips and ideas you may have, so don’t hesitate give me a shout.
Till next time,
Tyler