Petty List

Took me way too long to put this list together and post it but hey better late than never. I have been back in U.S. for three months now and put together some things that have annoyed me slightly after being away. Just slightly....

1.) First and foremost JAYWALKING. It was a second offense to me. First weekend back I was out In Seattle with some friends I stepped off the sidewalk and a red-hand eyed me down opposite side of the crosswalk informing pedestrians to not walk. None of my friends followed. People are a tad more cautious here on busy streets and looking at it from the outside thats a lot smarter. Oops.. easy adjustment.

2.) Taxes. I was so use to paying the price that you see. Not the case back in Pacific Northwest. Don't forget to add that 9(ish) cents to every dollar you spend for sales tax. 

3.) Getting identified going out. You would think the bouncers/security at these places get money for every fake ID or catching someone underaged with how persistent they are. Various parts of Seattle regardless how old you look you're gonna get the ID treatment. 

4.) Filling the ol gas tank. I didn't drive a car for over a year. It's not that I for got how to drive but I would always forget to take note of the pump number and wouldn't notice until i was at the counter. I have pushed this minute nuisance to the side but I'll tell you what when you're lazy as I'am sometimes you despise that 30 yard walk back and fourth to the get that pump number.

5.) Putting the toilet seat down or up after the job is done. If the toilet wasn't a squatter I would always put the toilet seat down in a hostel, guesthouse or couchsurfing spot to be curtious. Just like jaywalking, this as well became second nature. Back home my first few times hanging with my buddies at their place I questioned the lip placement. I asked them the mancode ruling on that one...it stays up in all-male locations. Thanks for the help fellas.

6.) Pocket check. No new news here but pick pocketers lurk in nearly all tourist destinations. Because of this I got into a serious habit of checking two things literally every 15-20 minutes when out in public. My wallet and my unconnected my iphone. Wallet in front left pocket and phone in the front right pocket of any shorts or pants. 

7.) Date/month/year OR month/date/year. In much of Europe and the Eastern world the former is preferred. So that's what I came accustom to. After a few quick notes in my journal back home with the date added habits were changed to fill suit.  

Well I hope you enjoyed the moderately entertaining list due to their off the wall nature but more importantly thanks to anyone who read along to the end. Keeping on checking though I'll most likely post peridically about adventuring in general and more. Thanks again! 

Here was my first picture back a few months ago with my Mom, Sisters and Brother.  

Honorable Omar

Omar Backpackers Hostel sits along a long strip of shops and budget hotels in the port city of Mersing, Malaysia. Omar, the owner, moves swiftly in and out of his hostel. No one is quite sure what he does when he leaves the doors but I'd to think he has other business he attends to while leaving backpackers to act in a mature manner and not burn the place to the ground. He is the only employee excluding the cleaning crew so things aren't strictly supervised. He really puts a lot of trust in others around him making me wish there were more people in the world like this.

Financially, the whole payment plan goes on the honor system. There is a large folder sitting on the common room table where you fill in the basic hostel registration information and he asks you to place the nightly fee in once you're done filling it out. Take a look for yourself below.

Nothing to fancy but straight and to the point. 

Something that amazed me about the place was how well the hostel and price went hand in hand. As the saying goes you get what you pay for. Same for Omar's. One might think since the cleaning crew only stops by in the afternoon and Omar seems have no real schedule and/or interest in spending quality time there it might get a bit out of sorts. Wrong. For $5.00 USD per night the place was in pretty darn good shape. The rooms were without AC but all had well equipped fans. The shared bathroom was nothing to write home about but the shower-head sprayed cool water and the toilet flushed. While it didn't look like it got much use it even had a kitchen with full size refrigerator. Here are a few photos of the interior of Omar's honor system hostel. 

Clean sheets and all!

The kitchen... I guess it gets the job done. 

The only real bickering that I heard from the guests and something that I contributed to was the wifi connection. It was horrendous. It was in and out of connectivity as fast as Omar was day to day check up on the place. Sometimes wifi is NEEDED... sometimes. Other then that it's one of the coolest things in regards to running a hostel and amazing to see how much faith this man has in humanity. The few others that were there with me at the time spoke a little about how you almost feel ashamed to not pay the man. While there are the extremely cheap and dishonest backpackers out there lets hope the majority of them stay away from Omar's. 

Sumatra Solo

The island of Sumatra is home to over 50 million inhabitants and is the 6th biggest island in the world. It's dense rain forests in the Northern half provide a home for wild orangutans with only one other place on planet earth taking claim to such a beautiful creature and that being the island of Borneo. Sumatra takes on a different breed of travellers. Ones seeking adventure and a challenge, even more so for the ones doing it alone. Here are a few troubles a solo traveller can run into.

Language barriers are set for backpackers all over the world but Sumatra definitely sets the barrier higher. This is something I caught wind of before evening setting foot on the island itself. A few weeks prior I ran into a Malaysian backpacker in India named Alex who told me he even had trouble with conversational exchanges. The language of Malay has official status in four of the ten countries in South East Asia, two of which are Indonesia and Malaysia. With that being said even Alex ran into situations where the barrier was just too much. He said he would place an order at a restaurant and he would receive something completely different. Something I found very interesting and a issue many backpackers (like myself) have run into well before Alex. Thanks to him I went there knowing this and kept my patience as best as I could during any "conversation(s)" during my stay. No reason to get heated when it's neither the fault of the local for not knowing English or myself for not knowing the local tongue.

In Sumatra's more favored destinations, such as the island of Paulo Weh off the Northern tip, there has actually been cliques of western tourists formed which provides another intriguing challenge for solo travellers. It reminded me of situations in high school when new students arrivedand they simply would try to make friends but the others were put off by the "new kid". They thought to themselves who the heck is this person and why are they here? Or at least that's the impression I got from a few handful of the western-locals there. Some of the western-locals are long stayers on extended holiday, some moved from their homeland to start a new beginning, some met a Indonesian-local to start a family and others just sold what they had at home and made Paulo Weh a permanent residency due to it's captivating laid back lifestyle.  Fortunately for backpackers Paulo Weh is a massive scuba diving and snorkeling destination so one could use their respective dive centre as an inlet into a social group. While it's not the traditional way for backpackers to gain companions at a particular destination it's nice to have common ground such as diving or snorkeling to break into the clique. Once you're "accepted" the island feels like family, something I figured out first hand. The breaking in took a few days but it made me understand why people permanently live there. It goes deeper then the diving (pun intended). The locals are out of this world friendly and island lifestyle grabs you tight with no intentions of letting go.

Another issue with hitting Sumatra solo is it attacks your wallet just a little bit harder then a couple or group of friends on holiday. This is reflected mostly in accommodation. For example, a decent bungalow/room with a queen size bed runs at about 8 USD on Paulo Weh (There are cheaper ones and more expensive ones but we'll try try and find a happy medium here). For a serious diver who might want to stay up to two weeks not being able to split that in half with a partner or the option of a dorm bed, because they're nonexistent, at half the cost the USD's really add up. 14 days X 4 USD = 56 USD. That 56 USD could be put towards a few tasty cocktails and meals or three more dives, with all the gear! I paid just under 19 USD per dive at my dive centre which amounts to almost exactly 56 USD. Luckily for me I found a fellow diver on the ferry over to the island and we split a room for 10 nights but it's definitely an issue anyone can run into. I just happen to be on the right ferry at the right time.

Sumatra is just one of the many places around the world not necessarily tailored towards solo travellers. But with a tad bit of patience and social interaction between backpackers along the way these issues can be lessoned and even eliminated.

Just as usual I threw together some of my favorite pictures from my five weeks on Sumatra. A little mixture of everything!

Mom to India? No problem.

Generally speaking I like to travel alone but when the company, paths and personalities match I'm all for it. My latest travel buddy whom I parted ways with about 10 days ago was my Mom. Of all the countries she joined me to take head on, it was India. It was a semi-impromtu decision as she recently turned over her small business to a manager making herself unofficially retired so she could afford to make such a drastic change to her day to day life. For two weeks she left Dad at home (Sorry Dad, someones gotta pay the bills....) to join me in the mayhem of the second most populated country in the world. Just to be nice she asked if she could join when there was no chance I could say no. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. Mother and son exploring India on a budget, of some sort. Not many people can say that. She could have asked for us to stay in the nice(r) hotels or eat at the upper end restaurants but she opted not to. Which I loved! It gave us a chance to feel the grungier side of India together. Plus, we could allot money to more important things like a few stiff drinks here or there. We hit a fine line in-between backpacking and moderate spending for any traveler. She enjoyed the rollercoaster, from what I could tell. Not everything was perfect, nor on-time, nor worth it's value. But that's India. For Petes sake the first hotel we stayed at in Fort Kochi, Kerala was complete dogshit. Didn't stop her. We made the most of it and had a whale of a time.

I was so proud of her after it was all said and done. She worked her tail off to keep up with me when sometimes I got into my go-go-go mood(s) or when the cookies didn't exactly crumble in her/our favor. Take a quick gander at what she did/went through for a women who has children in three different decades and with the help of my Dad run a successful small business for almost 25 years.

• Before she even stepped foot onto the first leg of her flight(s) for India out of Seattle it was delayed four hours. That's not terrible but never a good way to start a trip.
• She rode on the back of a scooter with me. Not all Mom's would do this especially with their son behind the wheel. Perfect example : My Mom and I met a Mother and son spending holiday on the beaches of Goa. After a few drinks together we got to talking about riding scooters around and the other Mom basically said no way in hell am I getting on the back of scooter with my Son. My Mom not only trusted me but took on the thrill as a backseat-viewer
• She went paragliding for the first time. For a women who is not so fond of heights it was an amazing thing to see
• She trekked into multiple Nature Reserves in absolutely scorching heat. Most notably one when it was easily over a 100° fahrenheit where we spotted wild dogs, boars and monkeys.
• She went from a “beginner” barterer to “semi-advanced” barterer in just over two weeks. She found her own niche in doing it as well. She would kill the seller with kindness. Her soft polite voice got products down to a reasonable offer but if not she would walk away knowing there were always more options
• She powered through sleepless nights. On an evening when we HAD to get a good nights rest for our next day adventures of an Elephant Rehabilitation Center and some bird watching we were interrupted by street dogs ALL night. Right outside our window. Just barking away. Why? Who the hell knows. With only hour(ish) spurts of sleep that night the following day turned out highly exhausting but well worth it! 
• She ate all the food with no qualms. Hygiene isn't exactly a top priority in India hence the term Delhi-Belly for the sick travellers there. But she explored the street food and essentially anything off a menu when we went to proper sit down eateries. 

After typing all of these out it makes me respect my Mom even more. The list above doesn't even account for any of the jet-leg, awkward arrival times into India or out of India. She flew half way around the world from Seattle to see me and see a country that can push itself onto the viewer without any warning. 

Thanks for the visit Mom. I'll never forget our time in India. Love you. 

Kerala Backwaters

Gotchya off guide Mom!

Both of our favorite street food - Just one of the varieties. General cost... 30 cents (USD)

The man who whipped up the delicious treats 

Thattekkad Bird Sanctuary 

Inside the Bird Sanctuary (1)

Inside the Bird Sanctuary (2)

Where the river meets the ocean in Panjim, Goa

Just before the paraglide 

Her in action 

Just a couple of goof balls riding around 

Wildlife Sanctuary we biked to 

The People's Food

Simply put a thali is a balance of six food flavours served in various forms throughout Southern Asia. Most popularly India. After two months here it's hard not to realize one thing, these meals pack a punch at an incredibly cheap rate. Generally speaking the cheapest for around 60 rupees and top end 400 rupees (0.90 - 5.98 USD). Averaging out at about 100 rupees. Locals and tourists a like fill-up on these flavourful spreads. Most thalis' conjure up salty, spicy, sweet, astringent, bitter and sour tastes and come with unlimited refills (well most at least)! After a bit of verbal and taste-bud related market research a 100 rupee pure vegetarian thali is just about right.

Once the thali is plopped in front of said indulger it can be slightly over-whelming. Multiple curry colors in small dishes filled to the brim, a side basket of flat roti and a heaping scoop of white rice. It's like, where does one even start? With still a long ways to go about the proper eating etiquette of a thali I found out quickly that the steamed rice is meant to be saved for last. Why? I'm not sure. Do I save something to partner with the steamed rice as well? I'm not totally sure of that either but I should probably find out.

An additional head-scratcher for me as well is exactly how does a traveler tell if the restaurant serves bottomless thalis or not? From my understanding all thalis are "suppose" to be bottomless but that is definitely not the case as some places exploit the number of tourists and push that general rule of thumb to the side hoping we don't know or won't ask. Which is definitely true. I suppose asking more questions at the time is best route to gain a better general understanding.

The red onions. The crunch. The texture. The equalizer. Sliced red onions come as a compliment to many Indian dishes and that's no different to the thali. For thalis in particular it's a total game-changer. The sweet crunch is necessary for every bite as it goes with all the flavours and there is endless handfuls. Yes handfuls. A lot of the time servers will grab a handful from a bucket close by and plop them straight onto your circular thali tray. Thalis aside, Indian's essentially use red onions as a chaser for a majority of their dishes. Whether it's street food or proper sit down.

With still a few weeks to go, I hope some thalis along the way will answer some questions at hand. Such as stapling down the proper etiquette? Finally testing the taste-buds on a seafood thali? One that's been rarely crossed on the journey thus far.  

This was a top-end Indian restaurant and their lunch special was mixed veg curry thali.

The top-end thali here was 380 rupees = $5.67. Unlimited refills of everything. 

                            

                            

Literally buckets of red onions! They're the equalizer

80 rupee thali 

60 rupees with bottomless curries 

It's the Journey, Not the Destination or Sometimes Both

As I rolled over I wiped the crusties from my eyes that collected from sleeping with my contacts in. I lifted my head off the pillow and the musty smell of six backpackers hit my nostrils. It was particularly off setting that morning because an Australian guy was sick and had been vomiting, in the toilet, all night. Regardless, all I could do was think about getting outside for the street food I was going to devour on my way to the bus station. I was on my out of Jaipur for a day trip to check out Chand Baori, a step well, situated in the village of Abhaneri. After a few turns out of the back streets I was on the main road peering towards the station with stands of street food littered on both sides. It was like the Vegas strip but for foodies, not binge drinkers. My first stop was a 15 rupee vegetarian burger stand. 15 rupees is equivalent to about 22 cents USD. It was a western-eastern fusion burger with the curry spices infused into the potato based patty along with a green chilli paste instead of ketchup or mustard. Aside from that it played its part in looking like a 'normal' burger. Bun, red onion, tomato, shredded cabbage and a little paneer cheese (the most famous Indian cheese). This flavour puff didn't disappoint. In fact I got two.

Just a few yards down the drag I stopped again. This time for a much more complex dish. Grilled onions and tomatoes sizzled at the bottom of a wok where soon after a hot red curry sauce with peas and carrots chunks where added. To solidify the liquid curry vegetable mixture, a simple potato ball was added and mashed in. A garnish of fresh red onions and what looked like a masala powder finished it off. For only 25 rupees it was an incredible amount of food and fantastic flavour explosion between my jaws. 

The potato ball/patty prior to mashing 

Final Product 

After my expensive breakfast of 55 rupees or 81 cents USD I beelined it for the main bus station. I knew I was in for the long haul that day when I decided to take the public transportation and not a taxi or rickshaw. Nothing against the long haul, I enjoy it generally speaking. Not to mention I was saving myself loads of money as a solo traveler due to this isolated and uncommon attraction. Once I veered off the main road into the bus station I hit what I thought was the main ticket office. I was quickly pointed across the uneven asphalt to more platforms where I was suppose to be able to buy a ticket for Abhaneri. The short, rude Indian man behind the counter fumbled over what little English he did know and told me I would need to get off at a city close by and catch another bus where I would still have to walk a ways or hitchhike my way into the village. Some information was better than none at all so I replied with the only Hindi word I know at the moment, dhanyavaad (thank you). I grabbed the 100 rupee bus ticket from the small opening in the gate that separated the ticket agent and bus goers and made my way.

The bus was packed once we got to leaving. Shoulder to shoulder for the ones standing and every inch of the seats taken by the kids, women and men lucky enough to get into the bus in time for one. It was a two(ish) hour bus journey to my stop, Sinkandra Junction. I needed help from the bus attendant of when to get off as every single town/village we drove through looked exactly the same to me. This part ran pretty smoothly as I got a seat towards the back of the bus away from the hustle and bustle of comers and goers. Once I was yelled at by the attendant for Sinkandra things happened so fast. I hopped off with the bus still moving and quickly turned down offers from the vulturous rickshaw drivers. I turned to a man at a tobacco stand close by and said Abhaneri in a questioning voice while slightly tilting my head. He pointed. Just a few stands down from his was a mini bus just off the side of the road. Two bus attendants were yelling at the top their lungs while blowing whistles perched against the side of their lips to hurry passengers on. I took that information from tobacco man as that's your bus, don't miss it. 

I hopped on in barely making it as a few others squeezed in behind me. The last handful of us were in limbo with one leg on the stairs and one on the bus platform where the seats were. Some of them ditched the idea of trying to stay inside and just hung half out the bus letting the warm breeze hit their face. Heaven forbid they try closing the doors ever. I was loving every second of this. As my left ear rested on the roof of the tiny bus due to my height I could only help but grin. Everyone around me was smiling as well as I could feel their warm vibes. They seemed pleased to have a foreigner out and about in one of their sardine cans on wheels even if I look like a goofball. After 15 minutes I was motioned to get off by multiple people as the step well was seven kilometres away and the bus(s) wasn't going to get me any closer.

Once I got off I did a full 360 at the intersection examining my options. I knew the exact direction of the village while knowing seven kilometres isn't bad at all. The problem was time and daylight were not on my side so I played dumb hoping to hitch a ride in. Within minutes I was on the back of a motorbike with some guy who was delivering intensely colored fabric squares. The man and I exchanged in some small talk on the ride there and then came the subject matter that's still a hot topic around the world especially for US travellers.

“Trump good? or Trump bad?” He said in a thick Indian accent then took his hand off the left handlebar to motion thumbs-up or thumbs-down respectively. 

“I'm not exactly sure yet, I haven't been home since he got elected. I want to see and hear things first hand.” I replied 

My most diplomatic effort of putting the question to rest swiftly. He nodded and understood. Shortly after he dropped me off right in front of Chand Baori. I thanked him thoroughly and we parted ways. I made it. I'm not gonna lie I was pretty exhausted at this point but I hadn't even seen the step well or made that journey back home in reverse order yet. I took a short breather at a bench before the entrance and went in. It was exactly how I imagined it to be. Jaw dropping. Like nothing I had seen before. The best part was the lack of people. Just myself and a few domestic Indian tourists still on their New Year Holiday. I meandered around for an hour and a half soaking it in. The well was actually square shaped with three of the sides taken up by the complex stair cases to the bottom and fourth side a temple. The sun was setting on just three sides but each took in a different effect from the rays of light. The temple-side sat under the entrance to the attraction combined with the sun diminishing behind it made it look nearly fake. I got a decent picture looking at the entrance with the temple as the main frame.

After my time in Chand Baori I hitched a ride back to where the mini bus had dropped me off just a few hours prior. This time it was a slightly over-weight, tall(ish), Indian man who accepted after a handful of failed attempts. He was from Delhi on Holiday with his family checking out the stair well also. As wth many Indians and their guest first mentality he insisted I sit in the front seat while his wife and mother sit in the back. The conversation was limited and the ride was over before I knew it. I was at the mini-bus-stop trying to get back to the junction for Jaipur city. I stood at the stop for a fair amount of time before I felt a slight tap from behind on my left elbow. It was short man smiling as I peered down. Come to find out he was a school teacher just a few kilometres from the junction. This guy was an absolute firecracker. No Trump questions just sheer enthusiasm spewing from him mouth. We road towards the junction chit chatting like old college friends who hand't seen each other in years. Our conversation was real. While his English still threw me for a loop sometimes I listened as hard as I could to make out every word. When we got to the junction he insisted we have cup of chai tea and continued on with what felt like a catching up talk between best friends. After a few buses for Jaipur passed I told him I would take the next one to get back to my hostel. Minutes later we saw the bus coming down the highway so he initiated the guest first mentality, paid for the chai tea, and walked me to the bus door. He nudged aside a few others to get to the bus attendant to make sure I got on and paid the correct price for the main station stop in Jaipur. In just seconds I stepped onto the bus with crowds of people around me and no chance to say goodbye to the teacher. I'm sad to say I don't remember his name but for my frame of reference he'll forever be known as 'the teacher'.

Once I got settled into my seat for Jaipur it was smooth sailing from there. After another 2(ish) hour ride I got off at the main station where only a 15 minute walk separated me and my bed. Of course there was a stop or two at the plethora of food stands in-between for dinner.

Here are a few other shots of Chand Baori...

  

Get Your Graffiti Hands Out

In Tel-Aviv, the Florentine area is only place that one can legally graffiti the streets and alleyways without any repercussions. Just like any piece(s) of street art some of it is good and some of it is bad. From my five weeks there I spent a solid amount of time walking around the area every so often looking to throw together my favorite pieces. After a few trips out I really started to see peoples personality and goals in producing each piece of street art... Then I thought about it and that makes sense with all sorts of categories of art not just the street stuff. The main difference with these artists is their canvas are a concrete wall just around the corner from a falafel shop or the side of rundown brick building.

Looking back on it now I'm definitely disappointed in myself for not giving it a shot in making a piece of artwork. One doesn't need to be a graffiti master to mark their spot and I'm guessing mine would have landed on the not so good end of the spectrum but who really cares. Come to think of it some of my favorite pieces were the more simplistic ones. A quote that I had never heard that put a smile on my face or a little caricature that had a fantastic face are a few examples.

One assumption I turned into a near fact after my five weeks of living in the Florentine area is the graffiti definitely embodied the people that live and visit there. It's different, it's quirky and it works. There are all varieties of people in Florentine just like the street art. These people have turned Florentine into the happening area for young adults and added another dimension of night life into a lively city to begin with.

Here is a massive photo dump of street art that are some of my favorites. It was hard to pick even this many since the variety is MASSIVE. Also there some photos of the quirky and different people that make Florentine churn.. most importantly they're my good friends :)

 The kitty even posed for this one