Angkor Wat, Cambodia (Mar 28-30)

Angkor Wat Cambodia

Leaving Cambodia. Doesn’t quit have the ring as “Leaving Las Vegas”, but it feels much the same. You leave disquieted, as if exposed. I am also feeling a bit sick, so that could be messing with my mind a bit. Nothing like a little Deng Fever to brighten up your trip, especially when you won’t be in a first world country for another 3 weeks. Granted, my appetite for discomfort and sickness is probably a little lower than the next guy’s, but this place is truly close to the bottom of the international socio-economic ladder. Decades of war, drought, political unrest and really, really bad leaders have decimated the people, left a population without intellectuals (they were targeted by Pol Pot), and left tens of thousands without limbs. The country, finally finished with the Kamr Rouge in 1998, has now had a decade to slowly rebuild. Suppedly, 1 million people visited last year, throwing what I estimate to be $300 million into the economy – or about $20 for every man, woman and child. Tourism is beginning to grow, and the city of Siem Reap is building like crazy, with now a whopping 60 hotels, some of them pretty nice.

But Siem Reap is worth it because it’s close proximity to Angkor What and a myriad of other temples. They are worth the trip. They are worth the mosquitoes, they are worth the hundreds of children hocking books and fans to you as you walk down the street (‘Scuse me Sir, Wer you from? Germany? Tell me where you from and I tell you the capital? Do you want a Postcard? Sir? How are you? Sir), they are worth the 105 degree heat, they are worth the endless dirt and stench.

Most of the temples were built during the Hindu period (800-1200 CE) and the Buddhist period (1200-1300 E). The origins of these people come from 700 years before, as Chinese and Indians began forging trade routes through Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos to the middle east, bringing with them money, spices and religion. The people in Cambodia and surrounds adopted a range of these thinkings, but by 800, the a Hindu King rose to power, and with his domination began to build the most impressive of the temples in the area. Angkor What, with its immense three towers and miles of stone stands, was build 300 years later, a pinnacle of these achievements. Its massive moat surrounds the structure. We arrived there at 5:30 AM, to be there in time to see the sun rise over the towers. Walking the 300 meter bridge across the mote in the almost total darkness is an enchanting experience. The first signs of dark bluish light hint at the outlines of water and land, tree and sky. In front of us is the outer wall, 20 feet high and wrapping as far as the hindered eye can see in both directions.

We enter the Temple, through the front gate, which faces west, signifying that this structure is, like the temples of Egypt, a giant crypt for a great leader. Suryavarman II constructed Angkor Wat in the form of a massive ‘temple-mountain’ in 1170 AD and dedicated it to the Hindu god, Vishnu. Though this was also a state temple, most think its primary purpose was funerary. The exterior wall is 1300 X 1500 meters. It is huge.

Around the inner temple are Bas-reliefs telling of the historic battles, both real and mythological. The one commonly referred to tale is of the demons and the gods working together to churn Vishnu in the Ocean Milk to produce immortality for the gods (it took them 1000 years of churning to get their result).

Not only visually inspiring, the temple is also physically challenging. The steps to the top make the Ann Frank steps in Holland seem long a luxurious. Almost straight up, these steps go for 3 stories into the sky and are pretty scary to climb. I went up them, but came down on the south side that had hand rails. Only afterwards was I told that people have died falling down the stairs. Um, maybe they should have had better planning on the steps.

We saw three other temples in Cambodia. Angkor Thom, a 3 KM walled royal city built by Jayavarman VII after he recaptured Angkor from the Cham in 1181. J VII went to Champra to win a great victory against the Cham which took four years. However, when he came back after the war, the Cham had snuck around and taken Angkor, his capital, while he was away. He then fought the Cham and defeated them on his own territory, enslaving them and making them build this city. One of the most artistically impressive temples in Angkor Thom was Bayon, a smaller temple known for 50 towers, each with four huge smiling Buddha/Jayavarman faces. Very cool stuff. If you were a face sculptor, you had no want for work back in the Jayavarman days. Also in our tours, was Ta Prohm, another Jayavarman VII temple that now has trees growning through the actual buildings. It was the place of one of the Tomb Raider (starring Angelina Jolie) scenes. Very cool stuff.

The social scene in Siem Reap revolves around “Pub Street”, with at least two dozen bars and restaurants catering to tourists. Temple Bar is pretty much the center of this scene, which is almost British Colonialist seeming, with whites taking tea in the shade, as locals scurry around serving, tuck-tuck (open air taxi’s pulled by moped) racing by. For a place far away from the reality we all know, this place was friendly, warm and fun.

The first day in Cambodia, we met Alicia, an Australian from Sydney, traveling for two weeks in Cambodia. She had stayed with friends in Phnom Phen (the capital) and had also visited the beaches down south. A challenging trip, but one she had enjoyed. We had heard from others that Phnom Phen was almost unendurable, but she did not agree. To each their own.

We spent most of the days in our hotel, avoiding the heat and since there was not much to do in Siem Reap, except drink at night.

Christchurch, New Zealand (March 24-26)

Christchurch

Christchurch – We boarded the bus in Mt. Cook and four hours later arrived in Christchurch, the largest city in the Southern (or main) Island, home to about 350,000 people. There are only 1 million people on this vast southern Island and Christchurch houses about 1/3 of them. Its supposedly the most “English” of New Zealand's cities, so I was expecting quaint. Our hotel was in the Mideaval, Tudor style, which could have fallen under the quaint descriptor, had the inside been updated in the last 50 years. However, it did have an Excaliber sword lodged into a rock at the entrance. The first room we were given was so ackward, it didn’t even have a mirror facing the sink. Its interior looked like something out of 1955 England. It smelled. We went to pick up the phone to ask for a nicer room when the phone fell off the wall. They gave us a larger, better laid out room, but with the same type and genre of furnishings. It would have to do. Technology tidbit: The whole city has hot and cold water come out of different faucets. Really, kind of annoying.

We changed and then went to the "Strip" where the restaurants and bars were. It was right off of Catherdral Square, the center of town. What ensued was a mighty crazy evening. The Caterbury Crusades (the local rugby team) were in the process of winning their match, and we were warned that it would get a bit hectic when they won and 20,000 people to flowed into the strip party center. At 4:30 when I called it quits, the whole area was wall to wall packed.

As we learned from the locals, each restaurant turned into a club that played different music. We ate at Coyote, an adobe-decorated Western-American/New Zealand Fusion restaurant. Good eats. Glenn and I left, went down to Boulevard, where we met four girls, one of whom was a Maori Princess. Maori’s are the indigenous people of New Zealand. Most of the 600,000 Maori’s are in the north Island, many around Aukland. They are very well integrated into NZ society, but there are still violence problems around Aukland with Maori gangs. Our Princess was pretty cute.

The Maori’s are interesting. Unlike the native american’s, Maori’s are Pacific Islanders that arrived in New Zealand much only 1000 years before the European’s came. By that time they were joined by the white colonizers (mostly English), they had already hunted the only indigenous mammal to extinction and burned down about 10% of the forests. They were a tribal culture. They did not have a written language, but did pass on stories and customs through pictures and, of course, orally. The individuals are really big, like most Pacific Islanders. The men are born to be rugby players or bouncers. The woman could easily play those roles as well. New Zealand has put aside $1 Billion to pay for any incidents where land was stolen or taken in criminal way and $100 millions have been paid out already.

At Boulevard, we did shots and talked with our new lady friends. They were nice, but if in America, would be considered White trash. They were uneducated, married young or would marry young, had no aspirations academically or professionally and dated men of about their same caliber. The theme in New Zealand was that they just have a hard time keeping the younger motivated kids, who will go off to England and other places to earn a living and then might move back much later in life once they can afford homes. Because they don’t have the large supply of well-educated talent, companies are less wanting to to come and open business here. This is Philly to Australia’s New York/Boston/Wash Dc.

The party seen was awesome. Every place we went was spinning great tunes and we danced all night, meeting tons of people on the dance floor and around. Very friendly people locals and lots of tourists.

Starving at the end of the night, I stumbled to Burger King where I ate two whoppers consecutively and then hopped a ride back to Cotswald Motor Lodge , walking past the Excaliber. Too drunk to even kid around about pulling it out, and I went to bed and crashed.

Three hours later at 8:00 AM, the alarm rang and we were off to Akaroa, a perfectly pleasant day trip to a town on a bay that could have been Larkspur in Marin County. Our guide Peter was informative, filling in a lot of information on flore and fauna of New Zealand, its history and socio-political aspects of life in NZ today. At 1:30, we went on a harbor boat and saw dolphins and seals. Pictures in the picture section. Both have been hunted almost to extinction and are now protected. Sunday night we had Indian and packed. Monday all day we travelled

Mount Cook, New Zealand (March 22-24)

Mt. Cook

Relaxing final morning at Mt. Cook. Sitting in the aged by elegant lobby of the Hermitage hotel. Its been a great two days here. We have had perfect weather, sunny and mid-60’s-mid70’s. On Thursday after, we arrived after an easy 4 hour bus ride. Though we were not staying in the main building ($600-$800 per night) we were put up in the motels, which were reasonable rooms in surrounding buildings. Ours smelled a bit, but it was fine. We had a view of the mountains, which was glorious.

We took a brief Kea Point hike which takes you along the plain to a lookout point above a muddy/rocky residue pond. It, like all the places around here, has a great view of Mount Cook, the highest mountain in New Zealand and surrounding mountains and glaciers. Gorgeous. I then went on a helicopter ride around Mt. Cook and surrounding mountains. Awesome. It was my first time in a helicopter. We took off from the plain and went up around the western mountain range. The snow-capped peaks streaking lines of white snow and dark rock. Past the initial range of mountains, clouds hung 300M below the other mountain peaks, forming a “lockness monster” effect. Beyond those, and more clouds, lay blue-green land as far as the eye could see.

We flew around the mountain, with its jagged peaks jutting majestically towards the sky. We crossed the gully and landed on a snowy patch on another mountain. We got out and took pictures and gawked at the scenery. We then took off and again and returned across the greens plains to the launch site. 45 minutes in all, it was a great flight.

That night, with no city lights to block them, I looked up at a clear sky with a billion stars. For the first time in a few years I saw the milky way in all its glory. It never fails to excite the senses and imagination.

Yesterday, I went on the Muellers Hut hike, a killer hike 1000M (about 2/3 of a mile) at times almost straight up. The hike stars level and then turns off towards Seely Tairns (small lakes), and begins to ascend. Walking goes from foot path to basically rocks and man-formed awkward wood steps. 90 minutes later I arrived far above the hotel and plains with the first great view. Many people stopped and turned around there. With a few minutes rest and some tasty “One Square Meal” bars, I turned up towards the Hut. This path was all rock and grass, jutting up and marked only by poles every 50-100 meters. Exhaustion crept in fast on this second part. It’s amazing that some hikers planning to stay the night up at the hut carried packs up with them. With views getting progressively more amazing, the top part is “a bit of a scramble” as one guy described it to me, climbing rocks with all four limbs for the last 100 meters or so. At the top, the cooler air hits me. Straight in front of me, with Mt. Cook now to my back, on the other side of the mountain was a spectacular glacier, immense, semi-circular, facing me. From my position, across a rift, I stared straight ahead into its concave center. It is one of the most beautiful things I have seen. To my right, more snowed capped mountains.

From the top, it’s a level, but rocky climb to Muellers Hut, which is a red, metal house 20 minutes away. It is just big enough to have two rooms with beds for people to stay the night and a cooking area. Just before I reached the hut, my legs started cramping and I had to rest, some 20 ft. from the actual hut. It was funny. I just couldn’t make it the last 20 feet.

I rested at the hut, meditating in from of the palatial beauty in the surrounding mountains, for 45 minutes and then, well fed on “One Square Meal” bars and Poweraid, I started my descent. My legs felt better, but that was a temporary condition. So far the hike had been one of the most strenuous I had ever been on. Going down was to be equally as hard. The steepness of the path, in addition to the long drops from rock to rock and step to step was really hard on the knees. What took 3 hours to get up, took another 2 hours to get down, each stepping pounding the legs. However, the route still inspired me even on the way down.

I got down and, once a I returned to the hotel, needed a porter to drive me to my room. I was done, the last 100 M was too much. Exhausted but inspired, I showered, ate a bit and went to bed early.

Queenstown, New Zealand (March 18-22)

Queenstown

Queenstown is like Vail mixed with San Diego with a bit of Napa thrown in. It is a picturesque town built in the backdrop of Lake Wakitipu and huge thundering mountains that jut up around its edges. Picture Lake Tahoe. The town is Vail village meets backpacker heaven. Real estate retail locations hawk $US2 million homes in and around the city, while next door, $1 beers are being served to 19 year old Brazilians. It’s also the world reknown extreme sports capital of the world. This is where AJ Hackett created Bungi and its home to the second largest bungi jump in the world, the Nevis. 440 feet.

Surrounding the city are some of the world’s best hikes, and as with the whole country, if it stands still or can have a bit of a platform, they jump from it.

We got here on Sunday night. Glenn complained and got our OK room upgraded to a mack-daddy room. Go Glenn. /We met Cornelia, a German who is spending 6 months in Queenstown who told us the lay of the land. She told us to avoid Altitude and World Bar, since those are the tourist hangouts, but we ignored her advice and went. Altitude was all that a backpacker bar should be. Big trips like Kiwi Adventure, stacked with 18-35, but really 18-24 years pack in to the hostil above at night and party in the bar in the evening. I alternated between feeling like a 20 year old again and feeling like I was babysitting. However, except for Karaoke night which got too annoying to stand, it was a blast. I met Naomi, a cute brunette from California, who I who was also on the Kiwi Adventures.

The second night I met a Brazilian girl named Gissella, She was traveling for a year having quit her job with American Express marketing in Sao Paulo. She had already spent 6 months in Paris learning French and traveling Europe. Now she was spending 3 months traveling New Zealand and Australia and would return to Brazil and start looking for a job. In dozens of conversations with people like this, I have seen the normalcy and regularity by which people take off, travel and, if not find themselves, discover more about life and their own lives.

We did Queenstown right. On Monday morning, we woke up and went to “The Station” and signed up for the Kurawu Bridge Bunge, the first Bunge site, and the one that let’s you dunk in the water. It’s the “small jump” - we had to get psyched up for the big one later. We were lucky when we got to the sign up place, because they had a slot in 1 hour open. Just enough time to grab a bite to eat and drive out to the site, leaving no time to think about it. We got out to the site just in time, weighed in (at 76 KGs, which they write big on your hand – no messing up persons) Like almost all operations in NZ, this place is a fun factory with precision in how they do everything. Nothing is left to chance.

The jump is 140 feet over a the shotover river and was built originally to transport gold miners in the 1860’s to their sought after treasures. For the last 20 years, it has been the world’s center of Bunji mania. The observation deck alone is crowded with Asian tourists photographing random’s doing a brave thing: Jumping off a 15 story building and hoping they don’t die.

Looking out over the bridge for the first time is frightening, but I had already calmed myself down and hyped myself up, so I was more excited than anything else. I walked out onto the plank, 140 feet above running water and then it starts to really get scary. They strapped on the harness and the wrapped my legs in a towel and attached the bunge rope, a mere three feet from the edge. I stood up and hobbled, with their help to the edge with the Kiwi guide telling me to jump out, face the far rocks. I waved to the camera, waved to the crowd and then, with a calm center but edgy with fear, dove out towards the rocks and began falling.

The first thing I saw was the green of the water. Then a strong sinking feeling came into my stomach and I started to fall. I screamed, more to get rid of the feeling in my stomach than out of real mind-numbing fear. I was feeling each one of the 3-4 seconds of free-fall. Seeing the rocks and water come closer, but acutely aware of the fact that I was doing this. Closing in on the water now – tuck head, stretch arms…..Splash. My arms, head and upper torso dip into the water – cold, refreshing, startling. I am overcome by a complete euphoria. Then quickly retreat and I am airborne again - up, feet first, then down and up again. Finally, I come to a stop and the boat picks me. I say to myself – time to do Nevis.

Nevis is a different jump altogether. 440 feet, you launch from a station suspended across a rivene by wires. You get to the station by a gondola, which seems precarious at best. The scariest part was almost the drive up to the point, up a one lane dirt road that skims the side of the mountain and you keep thinking: “How high does this go?” The station is fairly solid, but is some of the floor is made out of glass, so you can see the huge fall below. Twenty of us were in the group. Some were obviously scared shitless and some were relatively calm. I vascilated between the two. I had been pretty scared before we got there, but once I actually saw the height exactly, though high, I could compared it to the Bridge jump two days before and have a starting point the rationalize the activity. I meditated and calmed myself. By the time it was my turn, I was excited inside, but not outright scared. They harnessed me up, showed me how to right myself for the pull up (no boat to pick you up from the water, they pull you back up after the jump) and then got me to the ledge.

I looked down to see a deep ravine, with a small river in it. Rocky hills rolling up on both sides. You could barely see the white waves from the moving water. The guide started the count down and when he hit 1, I jumped, instantly feeling the sinking feeling. I screamed. But unlike the other jump, this jump kept going. Four seconds in, it seems like an eternity and you are still accelerating. Finally, you feel a sense of slowing down and then being pulled up. But, its disorienting, and you are not sure where in the trajectory you are. At the top of the arch, you feel absolutely weightless. Its amazing! And it stays that way, for 2-3 seconds, and then you are falling again. After the second rise, you pull a string and you get “righted”, so they can pull you up while you are sitting in a cradle. Even more than the first time, this was an absolutely amazing experience. To remember it, I bought the video.

We Also went to do the Shotover Jets – not bungee, but not too shabby either. These boats went at nearly 60 miles an hour down very tight river passes, going within incheas of jutting rocks and then spun around giving everybody strong thrills, if not sea sickness. Very entertaining.

The Second day, we put on our hiking shoes (in my case, just donned the now famous Uni-Shoe that “works during the day, and parties at night”), and Glenn and I headed to Routeburn trail, one of the top 10 scenic trails in the world. When we got there, we found 10 Israeli’s – locked out of their car. Though it’s a 34 km hike around, and some people stay the night at a camp site half-way throough, we did the 10 km hike to the first stop, an amazing hike, at a very hefty pace. It was a path hike, mostly easy grades, sloping up. Very green, with majestic rapids running below wood bridges. When we arrived, the plateau was very scenic, but the bugs were buggers, resting there we got bit up. Nothing ever is perfect. The hike back was relaxing.

Pauanui, New Zealand (March 17-18)

Coramandel - Pauanui

So, for the first time in the trip, I think I have made the wrong choice. Instead of staying in Aukland for St. Patty’s day celebrations, I followed the initial itinerary, which I thought was flawed. We spent the night at Pauanui, a small vacation town on the Northeast corner of the North Island. We were about as close to the international date line as one could get. However, that was about all that was exciting about Pauanui. The ride from Aukland was taxing. The winding roads traversed gorgeous scenery, but they would have been difficult on the right side of the road. On the left side, they were outright scary. One thing you never think about when driving, because it comes automatically, is how close you are to the curb on the opposite side of the driver. This, it turns out, is not the same situation on the other side. As Glenn and I took turns driving, the non-driver would yell “Drift!” to alert the unsuspecting driver that we were about to hit a tree, person, or fall off a cliff. This was a useful technique and highly recommended for all those planning to travel to backwards nations where they drive on the wrong side of the street.

The scenery was amazing along the water, and when we finally got around the Coramandal peninsula to see the ocean, it was breathtaking. And, as any traveler learns pretty quickly here, the entire country is beautiful. Except Aukland. It’s dreary. But the rest is spectacular.

Pauanui was a silent town. I meditated by the water, on a grassy backyard that backed up to the bay. The sun was streaming through clouds and over the mountains in the distance, looking like a motivational poster, as it prepared its final few miles for sundown. I focused on nothing and was soon completely relaxed.

We went to dinner at the only place that was open past 8 PM in the town. It was not the American Grill, which had already closed. Instead, it was a pizza joint. Two Jewish single guys did not exactly fit in among the goyisha families, newly weds and teenagers. But it was only one night.

We left in the morning and drove the four hours to Rotorua and flew to Queenstown.

Auckland, New Zealand (March 15-17)

Aukland

Well, the frenzied tour of New Zealand has begun. We woke up yesterday, went to the airport, had a good flight (3 hour flight for us now is a piece of cake). We met this awesome chick on the plane Karina. She is a music entertainment event coordinator for acts in NZ and Australia. We rented a car and drove her home. She most likely saved our lives, because driving on the wrong side of the street could have killed us. However, with her help, we arrived safe and sound, but not without me nearly hitting a bus.

New Zealand is not Australia. This is Madrid to Sydney’s Paris. This is the country cousin. It has some new construction, but not nearly the massive growth in Melbourne and Sydney. It has the “Sky Tower” (the tallest structure in the southern hemisphere) and a casino (requisite in all cities), but its lacking the money. The cars on the road are not the Mercedes and BMWs you see up North. These are tired, many over a decade old (ever here of the Mazda Familia? A dime a dozen here). However, things don’t seem to be old enough to be cultured or historic. They just seem to be sort of old. An early ‘60’s office building with black and green accents, a 1980’s hotel.

However, that does not mean New Zealand is awesome. These are the nicest, most international crowd we have met. Within an hour of landing, we were drinking with 10 new friends who worked at Ernst & Young Auckland for a going away party for one of them at a Belgian Beer House. We met Solei, an Argentinian beauty who served us our Chimay with deadly cute smile and we partied with her and her friends until 4 in the morning.

We then went to White House, the funniest strip club we had ever seen. You walk into the hall and see a Sculpture of Bill Clinton. All the girls are wearing American Flag bathing suits. Very funny. It’s different here, to say the least. Prostitution is legal, so you can see what you want and get it. I struck up a conversation with Louwan, who was texting her boyfriend, who was with his girlfriend now. She was “the other woman”. I told her “that’s all right, he’ll leave her eventually”. Actually, I didn’t, but I could have.

I left there, went to an internet café to log in and then went home.

Aukland was a blast. The rest of Friday was spent walking around, going to the Viaduct (a bad, small copy of the docklands of Melbourne and Sydney’s Circular Quay). The main mixed use building was horrendous and badly designed.

We took a ferry to Devonport, across the bay, in Aukland and walked to the top of the volcanic hill there. The walk was almost straight up and, though short, was thrilling. Along the way, we met up with 5 people from an English school, 3 from Brazil, one from Saudi Arabia (a journalist who is traveling for 8 YEARS!) and a guy from Mexico. The arab guy could have been a con artist, not sure. It seemed quite strange that the Saudi government was paying 2/3rds of his expenses to travel and write things about countries he was not going to (for example, his last article was on Iran). However, they were very fun to hang out with and we grabbed a beer with them afterward.

I then went back, slept a bit and then we went out to Ponsonby area of Aukland, a more upscale, more New York Lower East side, cool and professional area. Like its NYC counterpart, it was next to the “Fringe” area, filled with black-leather punker people with nose-rings. We ate at a very cool taco place where a guy from San Diego served us tacos that were “from South of South of the Border”. The advertisement showed a picture of a fence and said “smuggled in daily”. You get the picture. We wound up at a bar named Sponge, with lots of good looking people and a dancing area in the back. Unlike the other DJs we heard, this guy was awesome.

Aukland is just not the same as what we are all used to. The country lives and breaths travel. The people you meet, not just at tourist places, but everywhere are from Everywhere, with a heavy concentration of people from other Southern Hemishpere countries. But, as you walk down the street, internet café’s abound, with “Visa’s purchased here” signs every other store. This is at the very end of the universe really. We are about as close to the International date line as you can get without having your right side a day older than your left. The shrubbery looks Hawaiin one place, and Miami another. Everybody here basically is either too old to dream, getting ready to travel or arriving from some place with more than a 15 hour flight time. It’s exciting and rewarding to just walk down the street.

In the bar I meet Ellen, a 23 year old French Hottie. We danced for a few hours together and hang out. However, after not properly screening the prospect, I was informed at 2 in the morning that she had a boyfriend back in France. Um, well….enough said. I thanked her for the dance, for wasting my opportunity to get some in Aukland, and went off to fish in other ponds (since the once flush pond of Sponge had all but emptied out). I wound up, 45 minutes later, at White House again (it’s the patriot in me), talking with Louwan, who was working the bar again.

The story of Louwan
Cute, 5’2”, petite, dressed in the standard American flag bikini, Louwan is disarming. Born to a non-existent father, and a mother living on “the system”, her small town life in New Zealand was not destined for bigger and better things. At 15, her mom kicked her out of the house, and I am pretty sure it was not totally undeserved. She left school and started hanging out with an Aboriginal boyfriend. She was dead broke, so spent most of her time shoplifting. She was arrested a few times. One day two years later she found out she was pregnant, at which time her boyfriend kicked her out of his house. She was homeless. She had recently been arrested and was spending her days doing community service. When she showed up for work, it was the people she was doing work for that provided temporary housing for her. She got an abortion, moved home (I think wither her grandmother) and began again. At 18, she moved to Aukland to get away and find a better life. She began working in a retail store and rose to manager. At 19, she restarted relations with her mother and her mother told her to quit her job and start working as a stripper so that she could earn more money and give her some since she was dirt poor. She did just that, and within a few weeks was taking money home at the rate of $80/year for working 3-4 days a week. Not bad. She liked the dancing, but didn’t like the lap dances. After 6 months, she quit because of bad blood between her and 5 other woman dances who accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends. She also wanted to see if she could find other work. She couldn’t. No high school, no college, mildly criminal past probably makes it difficult. 6 months later (a few months ago) she returned to the good life of the White House. Now she has a boyfriend, but, even that is not straight forward, since she is the “other woman” to his real girlfriend. She suffers from depression and takes medication, but has currently run out of the medication. On Friday, she got a piercing in her lower abdomen, an inch below her current piercing in her belly button. It look cool, painful and she said that it still was hurting abit. Talking with her was very cool, and I left her suggestions for some movies and to read some of the inspiring books I have read in the last few months – “Journey of Awakening” by Ram Das and “Happiness”. Hopefully, they provide her some inspiration as well.

I got home at 6, after talking with Eyal a bit late at night about some potential deals that were cooking. We woke up this morning, and drove 6 hours to Pauanui.

Sydney, Australia (March 11-15)

Sydney

Day 1: Glenn arrived before me, and we went to Darling Harbor, which is a lot like Docklands in Melbourne. Other similarities: They both have sky towers, both have large, beautiful Botanical Gardens, great public transportation systems, multiple nightlife locations, both are on the water with large boating populations. Coming into Sydney from the north by air, you see the outlying vacation communities start 50 miles north of the city, with dozens of bays, hundreds of islands and inlets and thousands of boats upon boats upon boats. It’s an athletic, out-doors focused city with a vibrant life on and off the land.

Day 2, I woke up and ran around the city, passing the Anzac memorial, through the botanical gardens, all the way to the water, facing the Sydney Opera house, about 3 miles, stretched, meditated and ran/walked back. I focused on living the day. Walked back, showered and went out again, alone. I walked through the CBD, seeing the hustle and bustle of Sydney, through the arcades and gorgeous retail buildings they have, including the Queen Victoria Building. I stopped for a delicious chicken Schnitzel sandwich in another building. I then went to the New South Wales Parliament building. Nothing especially grand, but the stuffy upper chamber was interesting. I then continued north to the Circular Quay, and then east to the Sydney Opera House. A gorgeous building. Dynamic, but not over the top. Aged, but still new. Like most of Sydney, it blends the natural (water), the dynamic (its design) and the traditional (its an opera house). It gently nudges culture into the hearts of all residents and tourists.

The city is gorgeous, well planned, with streets melding old and new, commercial and residential, park and office park smoothly. The long walk through the botanical gardens was equal to if not surpassing the most calming stroll through central park. The heavy oriental influence is felt with the smooth transitions, fungshue design, and attention to detail.

Sitting by the opera House, I finished the Journey of Awakening. My meditation and walk today reflected a serenity I have not known for a while, if ever. My ability to stifle negative thoughts and noise is by far not absolute yet, but improving. I felt truly happy sitting, walking. Occasionally my mind wandered to career, people, problems, challenges, past events. My mood would change slight. I felt it. Then I tried to study why, look back and see the situation as if it belonged to another person, or see it as looking at my whole life and this is a small part – perspectives that calmed me and realized the triviality of the topics. A truth that I have known for so long but have not been able to express.

I am getting to where I am content with my life and I can start moving forward. Without this first step, anything else I try to accomplish will be mired in the agonizing internal bickering, wasted emotions, mindless depression I have suffered for too many years before.

Day 2: Blue Mountain tour
Today was our third day in Sydney and we went on a tour to the Blue Mountains and saw…..some fog and the backdrop of what could be some mountains. Not the best weather for the trip, but unless we start doing some aboriginal weather dances, its hard to control it. But we did get to see Kangaroos (again, and for Glenn, the third time). Not to diminish how cool this actually is, but once you’ve seen them, its not that special to see them again.

Our tour guide was the highlight of the tour. He was extremely far to the right in his views and kept blaming the “greenies” for all their nagging. An ex-police officer, he had 17 guns and spent 10 minutes complaining about the “greenies” who were insisting that he have to wait 28 days to get his 18th. I didn’t argue with him, but, as most rational human beings, feel waiting periods for gun licenses and purchases is probably a good thing. In addition, the Greenies were responsible for stopping them from shooting animals, not allowing building in certain places, etc.

Sydney as a city, though, is exceptional and is as remarkable the third time I walk through the parks as the first. Immersing yourself in the city is like combining the beauty of Paris with the business fortitude of New York. It’s a city. Sidney is a also a very liveable city. Unlike America, Australians are travellers (ironic, since they are in the middle of no-where) and they have a real appreciation for culture (notice the centrepiece to this town is an opera house) and art. They are friendly, though less so here than in Melbourne, where it was almost comical how nice everybody was. And the many different bar/restaurant districts are all cool and happening (though not particularly on the Sunday, Monday and Tuesday nights we have been here.

At night, we went out the Kings Cross. The Cross juxtaposed cool bars, right next to cheesy strip clubs, sex shops and the like. It was not a bad area. Like in Bangkok, you could have a four star restaurant right next to Pussy Palace. Odd, but not bad cross marketing. But like all things in Sydney, the strip clubs and the restaurants were pretty expensive, so we stuck to the meals and held off the exotic entertainment for the cheaper countries.

We had a great meal at the Opium Den, a thai place, meeting the two drunk middle-aged woman to our left. We then went a bar and met two some professional scuba divers who were from Britain but had spent the last few years in the Caribbean teaching Scuba. Now they had gotten jobs in Thailand and were leaving the next day to start their new lives. They and their kind lives amazing lives. They travel around, work at something they love, stay as long as they enjoy a place and then move on to another beautiful ocean resort. Not bad.

Day 3: Back at the Gardens
Glenn went off to do some final things (boat trips, tours). For the first part of the day, I did nothing. I ran through the gardens again, stopping by a big tree, by the water, with hundreds of people passing by on one side, and quiet serenity on the other. I meditated and felt a surge of energy. I then walked through the park again, took some pictures, contemplated life and had lunch.

In the afternoon, we went on the Harbor Bridge climb, where get to walk on top of the bridge, about 500 feet in the air. It’s an amazing experience, and a great view of Sydney. Not bad for $150 bucks. The first part of the walk is the scariest, because you are walking over see-through metal planks and you’re looking down about 200 feet saying “I don’t want to fall down there”. Once you start the parabolic arch of the bridge, its solid steps on top of the suspension frame of the bridge, with guard rails, so it’s a lot less scary. We had beautiful weather, with visibility up to 20 or so miles, so we could see the ocean, and the different beaches, as well as a clear view of downtown, the Sky tower, directly across to the Opera House, and then looking West, into the gradually setting sun. They go through an elaborate training exercise to make sure you don’t fall, as well as harness you in. They haven’t lost any of the over 2 million people that have climbed the bridge in the last 20 years, so that’s good.

After the bridge tour, we went to the Rocks, the area around the Circular Quay with dozens of high end restaurants and great bars.

Cairns, Australia (March 8-11)

Cairns

Day 1:
First day in Cairns. I took a flight up in the morning, landed and took a bus to Paradise on the Beach, a comfortable hotel in Palm Cove, a higher end area. I read more of Journey of Awakening, ate lunch, fell into a great nap for three hours, then got up and went South to the city. A true backpacker town, the clubs could be on any Greek Island, or I am sure Phuket. Nothing much happening out in town. Went to a few bars, met a few people, but nothing exciting.

I went to dinner at Spicy Bites, a great little Indian restaurant. I ate outside and read. I ordered a delicious vegetarian spicy dish with Garlic Naan and struck up a conversation with the two guys next to me. They were nice, from Brisbane and here on business. Nick and Pete.

Day 2:
Cairns would just be another small town in the middle of a desert country if it wasn’t for that little Reef that sites to the east. It’s one of the closest locations to the reef, and in addition to hikes and other nature around, it’s grown into quite a ramshackle party town. The bus picks me up at 7:00 Am and takes me to the Quicksilver boat, a large 100 footer that can go up to 35 miles an hour. Armed with Bonine, the rocky waves pass by. A bunch of people on the dive are from a Contiki tour. The last time I dove, in Miami, two years ago, I freaked out on my first descent and had to come to the surface. So I spent the morning meditating and trying to relax. I love to dive and have been on 35 dives, but for some reason, age brings a greater clinging to mortality – or whatever. Anyways, sure enough, on my first dive down, I keep telling my self to relax, but all that happens is the swelling feeling of panic. After fighting it for a bit, I swim up and surface. The dive master, obviously not wanting me within 100 miles of his dive now, says to go back to the boat. I ask for one more chance and reluctantly agrees. I calm down for a minute and then make another go of it and all is well. The little ditty would have had a happy ending if the first dive had actually been worthwhile. It wasn’t. The first dive was to the Tracey’s section of Flynn Reef, and it was pretty boring – boring coral and pretty average fish.

The dive master did hand us some squishy coral (which I am sure he hands every one of the million tourists he takes out to this overly dived place). Halfway through mediocre dive, my mask starts leaking like crazy. Now that I have a mustache, it breaks the seal of the mask and let’s water in. Not interested in the dive too much, I surface, ending early an unrewarding dive.

The second dive is at the Links. Having heard that people who went snorkeling on the first dive actually saw more cool stuff, I switch it up a bit and don snorkeling gear. And yes, I see much more interesting stuff - a four foot shark, a sting-ray, and some very cool coral. Near the surface, the colors are astounding. The myriad of fish are colorful and huge schools of them swim by and part around me. It’s psychedelic at times.

The third dive, at Milln Reef – South Milln, is extraordinary, redeeming my diving experience. The boat stops very near the reef and we dive in a smallest group yet. We descend to 12 meters but the great stuff is up at 8 meters. Here, the multi-layered coral allow to swim up and down, diving down into almost cave-like places to see brightly-colored formations and hiding fish. We see a huge Potato fish. No problems with fear or equipment lead to a very enjoyable end of the day.

On the boat, I meet Jeanette from Toronto and Benjamin from Germany, friendly people who were part of the Contiki Tour. Jeannette, at 29, complained a bit about the trip being a bit young, and that their accommodations were at times a bit dodgy, but said she was having a blast. Benjamin was a computer consultant from Berlin who quit his job as well and was traveling for a months.

So, in preparation for Friday night in the young, hip, backpacker city, I spent some time looking at people and seeing how they dressed. Nobody was wearing $400 Gucci’s hear. They were all wearing Rip Curl/Billabong from top to bottom, with thong sandles. I hate thongs, but figured, “when in Rome”. I’m 35, what do I know about this stuff. So, out on Thursday night I take note of what everybody’s wearing at the bars – thongs, billabong short sleave shirts, etc. I go on Friday, before going home, to one of the myriad of stores in the Cairns that carry these uniforms and I buy a “Elwood” shirt, which I found out later is “the” hip place in Melbourne for those in the know, and a pair of thongs. I go home, and am deciding do I wear these thongs that seem so cheap? How do people dance in these? What about beer spillage? But I say, OK, I saw everybody out in Cairns last night with them, so it must be the thing to do. I put them on, hop on the 45 minute bus (yes, it was like I was living in the upscale “Boca” of the Cairns) and headed down the “South Beach” – downtown Cairns. I get there, pretty excited, and walk to my first bar, the Mad Cow, which some of the backpackers I had met had said was a good place to start the night. However, as I am walking over there, I notice that everybody tonight has shoes on, not sandles. Hmmmm, I think to myself, this is not good. I go up to the door and the guy looks at me, and is about to let me in when he glances at my shoes. “Oh, sorry, no open toed shoes allowed. Nobody in Cairns will let you in with those.” I simply say, “you have no idea how ironic that is”. On Thursday, nobody was going into clubs, so they all wore the sandals. There is a deep and spiritual lesson in there somewhere.

Personal growth
Personal growth. I have known for some time now about the importance of inner peace, tranquility. It’s hard to remember back just a few years to what I was thinking, when my mind was a million different ways, and I did not even know I should be wrestling for control. In that way, I was probably less developed than most people half my age. A year ago, in Costa Rica, I somehow knew the importance of separation, not allowing myself to get attached to anyone or anything. I didn’t learn this directly in my psychological counseling, but I think it hinted at it.
Now, I am beginning a real quest for it. Somehow, I picked up the book Happiness, and it said the strangest but truest reality, one that I am not sure how I have avoided in my life – your happiness has nothing to do with external factors, it’s all about how you choose to view your life. Quieting of one’s mind, control over negative thoughts, simplifying ones life, all lead to truer happiness. Intuitive material I have known all along.

My big problem with the Journey of Awakening and the spiritual life it suggests is how to connect it to the deep feeling that I want to do something significant for the world. I might be able to end my attachment to feelings and thoughts and external influences, but once that happens (a long process, but I am skipping to the end) how can I join that freedom to other goals. Obviously, the answer might be that these things are not really compatible and when I have obtained freedom, I won’t want the first things, but is that really how I want to live? Long way off, for now, I am focusing on calming the mind, focusing it on a simpler, more productive and happy life.

Melbourne, Australia: G’day Mate (March 4-8)

Melbourne

Melbourne - the home of Vegemite, finally explaining the reference in the 80’s Men at Work song – “He just smiled and hand me a vegemite sandwhich, and say: ‘I come from a land down unda’”. The city is hip, clean and beautiful. Gorgeous architecture, hot woman, and a great bar/café scene make this city a cool combination of Boston, San Fran, and Denver. Going along the Yaroo river, you think you literally see downton Boston juxtaposed to the Embarcadero (San Francisco), next to Southern boardwalk of New York City’s financial district. The streets in downtown mirror those in San Fran. And everything is clean with public transportation aplenty.

Melbourne is the San Francisco to Sidney’s LA (from what we hear). The rivalry between the two sister cities is pretty brutal. A typical conversation I have had over the last three days with people from Melbourne goes like this: “Gday. Hi, we’re here from the states (obvious). What should we see in Melbourne? We are going to Sidney next?” “Sidney, its so dirty there” or “Sidney, well, if you have to. Its OK for a weekend, I guess, but I couldn’t live there.” “Sidney, people there are so stuck up, you should just stay in Melbourne where everybody is nice” Clearly, we expect to run into an LA/Miami mentality in Sidney.

In Melbourne, everybody is so NICE! We took a Super Shuttle (called SkyBus here) and were transferring busses, an unusually easy and clear process compared with all other cities I have been too. However, seeing us on the side, a bus driver came over to us and said explained we didn’t want his bus (we already knew that) and that another would be along soon. He could take us, but it would be out of the way. This is a far cry from any public transportation professionals in the US (or anywhere else in the civilized world). No Worries!

Melbourne Day 1: Sightseeing
Glenn and I walked around the city, meeting tons of people. Our TravelLodge hotel is right in the center of things (also next to the tallest residential building in the southern hemisphere). It’s a very international city. We are told that a few years ago, Melbourne lost out only to Vancouver for most livable city in the world. Hmmmm, why didn’t Miami win? Maybe the judges didn’t speak Spanish.

The Botanical Gardens are large and sprawling and I walked through them, weaving in and out of the city streets. At night we, we check out Three Monkeys, a international bar with lot’s of locals to boot, and hear a cover band called the WildCatz. They are good, but the grundgy, backpacker scene is mostly guys flailing around.

Melbourne Day 2: Walkabout at Serendip National Park
It would be embarrassing to have gone to this fine big Island without seeing its most famous claim to fame, the Kangaroo. Mr. Kangaroo is plenty cute. And they hop. They hop in mobs, since they have individual personalities and just don’t follow the crowd at chow time like Asian tourists. They are scared of humans, but humans are scared of the huge ants which crawl around. These things have ant hills the size of Palm Island Mansions. Ants are scared of Echidnas, which eat them. We never saw an Echidna (rare to see them), because they are scared of Humans, but glad they were out there doing their duty.

The trees are alive with Koala’s. A day on a walkabout and even a Clevelander can spot a Koala nesting comfortably from 100 meters off. They mostly sit there, very cute, very distant, but we did see one climb to get some food. Just like a very slow monkey.

Our guide Belinda was awesome, and even put a little elbow grease into it when she swung her “Bush Billy Tea” kettle around to show how “Ya make Bush Billy Tea in the Ot-Bayk”. Good tea. But you need good health insurance to make it. At night we went to Chapel street.

Melbourne – Day 3
Free day, and we walk throughout the city, seeing the botanical gardens, war museum, and other things. We meet up with Katy, a friendly Boston College student studying at Melbourne University. She showed us around the town. We walked through the Botanical Gardens, past thr observatory, into the ANZAC memorial. When we ask her what we should that evening, she said she was going to a bar with people her age, but suggested we go to the Casino or something that like, it might be “more our speed”.

Instead, we go to Docklands, the mixed-use dock restoration project with condo’s a-plenty. It’s a great looking project, but as we walk through it, I notice that all the buildings are new and see an instant parallel with the residential market. My initial guess, which was close to correct, was that about half of the units still hadn’t sold and the ones that were bought were mostly not inhabited. Though they got the retail right, this project would take another 10 years to correct itself. The condos were being sold for about $700,000 Australian dollars for a two bedroom, not very far away from Miami prices, and obvious hint that their escalation in prices mirrored ours. A conversation with a residential developer on the way to Cairns in the following days confirmed my initial suspicion – the fallout in housing sales had hit the docklands very hard. Units that had sold for high prices could not be resold without substantial loss and many that were bought in pre-construction never closed. Ahhh, its good to know residential real estate bubbles are international

At Docklands, we met Paula, a Colombian girl learning English in Australia (something it seems a lot of Latin American’s do because we met a lot of them throughout Australia and New Zealand) She worked at an Italian place and didn’t like the owner. We at instead at Meccah Bah, a mediteranian place with “interesting” bloody mary’s” and pretty good food. We sat next to some drunk middle-aged people.

Title: Your Atlas
The first night in Melbourne, we met up with Ilanit, a person Glenn has been corresponding with for a while. She is a macrobiotic proponent (and contributor to Macrobiotic World magazine). An amazing woman, who also suffers from Type 1 Diabetes – that’s the bad kind. She has spent her life exploring potential answers, from both the conventional and new age side. Her latest and seemingly most promising, concerns a new spinal treatment. Supposedly, by changing the alignment of one’s “Atlas” or C1 vertebrea, you can increase significantly the information flow from the brain to all areas of the body. This realignment is done by relaxing the muscles in your neck until the Atlas falls into its proper orientation. In almost everybody, this vertebra is supposedly 23 degrees out of place, exactly mirroring the degrees that the earth is off-kilter from straight north-south orientation. Perhaps we evolved with it correctly aligned, but the world moved over eons and now our bodies can’t grow correctly aligned any more. Whatever it is, its mal-alignment pinches nerves and leads to disease.

As Ilanit’s father explained it, the body and mind communicate to properly heal things. Though antibodies and your immune system actually do the work, it’s the brain the runs the show. However, if the brain does not know that an area is cut, hurting or sick, healing is slower or non-existent. Acupuncture works because it signals to your mind that an area your mind thought was OK is really not, therefore catalyzing healing.

In Ilanit’s case, this means that pinching of nerves stopped the mind from understanding that her pancreas was sick, and not producing Insulin. She recounts that others with her condition have been healed by aligning the atlas and letting the mind do its job unhindered. She has gotten the 4-minute, painless, non-surgical procedure.

My questions to her came from both a place of skepticism but also of hope and caring. Ilanit is an attractive, bright, hope-filled individual who has had to endure more in her lifetime of 30 years than most people have to deal with in 80. One can only wish her the best.

There are a number of ways of altering the position of the atlas. Chiropracters have been forcing small changes in the atlas for years, thinking as well that it would improve the lives of their patients, but through their techniques have only been able to demonstrate partial and temporary realignments. The technique used by Ilanit and her father to alter their atlas was purely muscular. A machine that pulses ultrasound waves is applied to the back of the neck for 4 minutes, relaxing the muscles until the atlas falls into place. No direct documentation (MRI, catscan, etc.) has been used to show that the atlas has been moved, but secondary markers (an immediate improvement of inequality of leg length, etc.) have been used that are supposedly correlated with a correctly aligned Atlas.

Anecdotal evidence shows immediate improvement in health situations. However, no double-blind studies have been done that show a link between this technique and the actual change in atlas realignment and linking such realignment to health improvements and the curing of disease. Glenn is deciding whether to get the treatment done. It’s very intriguing. You never know.

Bangkok (March 1-4, 2007)

First day in Bangkok

Bangkok palace

Bangkok Canals

The plane ride over was much better than expected. I saw “the Prestige”, which brought up a few interesting concepts. First, that a life’s work must be a total dedication and that there is no easy way. However, neither Jackman nor Bale are really happy. They are lost in the jealousy they have for each other. One is successful, one is married, but neither is happy. The simple presence of envy blocks out any chance of happiness..

The best way to describe Bangkok has been firmly planted in our cultural psyche for over 20 years – “This grips me more than would a muddy old river or a reclining Buddha” from One Night in Bangkok, the hit song that came from the Chess, the Musical. Bangkok is the result of too many people poured onto a peaceful land. Their culture, ethic is crushed under the shear weight of their overgrown society. And from the refuse, the worst of its society spills out. It is a teeming city. Hot, overcrowded, rank with pollution.

The beauty of the temples, the simplicity of the Buddha, the silent meditation of the monks, the beauty of thousands of years of training and thought are eclipsed by the seeping out of refuse of all society. Sadness abounds in every corner. One run through the streets of the city displayed the mélange of despair, poverty but also the signs that within this refuse, lives close communities, who are working together to get by.

Then there are the tourist areas, catering to distorted pleasures. This is a poor man’s mid life crisis paradise. Whereas Boca might cost you a red Lamborghini and dinner at Bova, here middle age doctors can purchase a mid-life sex pet for a mere $1000 Baht ($30 dollar) a day. OK, so she probably has at least one major venereal disease, but small price to pay. And for the quick thrills traveler, there is always the happy ending thai massage. Welcome to Bangkok.

Traveling through Bangkok is simple: Shack, Shack, Temple, Shack, big government building done in a modern/ancient mélange style, skyscraper hotel, shack, shack, big house, shack. There is almost no order to the city, that, with 12 million people, stretched as far as the eye can see in all directions. Developers definitely don’t have to deal with tough zoning and planning boards here. Shack’s are shacks. Temples, as we soon learned, are incredibly ornate, frequent and, after the second one, indistinguishable. We did see the “reclining Buddha” at the Wat Pho temple, and, yes, it is huge – the biggest Buddha in the world. The androgenous being stretches half a football field. It is the Godzilla-Buddha. I am sure some little Thai children have nightmares of the reclining deity getting up and walking through the streets, 200 feet tall and taking vengeance on unfocused children.

But at the same time, it is an incredibly friendly and spiritual city. The little bow they do as you approach is genuine, even if it’s the 1000 time they’ve done it day. As I took a jog along the streets near our Holiday Inn in Silom, guards and people waved to me (the big towering sweaty white guy who was dumb enough to run outside in the humidity). People were honestly nice, and spiritual. We were there for “big Buddha Day”, a name one taxi-cab driver explained the holiday as, justifying why the Tai-Boxing we were trying to see was closed. Big Buddha Day. While at the Imperial Palace, I bought the incense, candle, lotus combo and laid it on the Buddha statue for healing. Kind of cool.

On the second day, I finally got a Thai massage. I, strangely, don’t like massages that much. And, so much cracking of the back (I think mine cracked like ten times) can’t be good. From my friend Rafi who is a back surgeon I have learned one lesson in life – don’t mess with the back. Once its messed up, it never gets better.

Altogether, we saw just enough of the temples to gain a strong appreciation of their beauty – Temple of Dawn, Imperial Palace, “Big Buddha” Temple all were interesting, but wouldn’t need to see any more.

I am left glad I came and glad to leave. I never indulged in the “finer” offerings, but did see the muddy old river, the reclining Buddha and got an opportunity to meditate in a city with considerable holiness.

Things to travel with
For all ye to-be travelers out there, a few words on wisdom on some helpful technologies:
1. Bose Headphones – consider me an expert on planes, since I have spent 36 hours getting to Australia over 4 days. There is nothing like being able to create your own sanctuary. Don’t get the Bose QC-3, that, though smaller and equal in their “noise cancelling”, don’t go over the ear like the better QC-2’s. The Qc-2 are awesome and well worth the $300 investment. They almost completely shut out sound and make any noisy experience much more enjoyable. They have made the travels quite relaxing.
2. That stupid neck pillow – Buy the really good one at Sharper Image. You’ll thank me. It’s really comfortable.
3. Skype – I feel a bit like I am the last one to get on this bus, but if you are even slower than me, get to your computer and download it. Greatest thing ever. From Thailand, I can call the US, Australia, and almost anywhere for 2 cents a minute. And if I am calling somebody who has skype, its free.
4. Canon Powershot DS800 – Its absolutely amazing. The quality of pictures because of the image stabilizer combined with the 7.2 megapixels has not failed to amaze any person yet.
5. Tour guides – not so much. Get a good one. In Bangkok, we had Katy, a Thai local who provided no value except – “look, Demon…take a picture” – whenever we would ask what something was, she would answer either “look at ticket”, where there was a wo line explanation or “look, demon, take picture”

Beginning Anew

Chicago and Plane ride to Bangkok

For Henry David Thoreau, it was the Walden, for Buddhist monks it’s Tibet. Places of Asceticism, journey, solitude, reflection. Simplicity leading to a complexity of thought unattainable in the chaotic mess that was my home and my life. So, here, embarking on the journey of a lifetime, I have, in a materialistic sense, no life. Stripped to the bone. No house. No car. No job. Not even a cell phone (I will be freezing my account tomorrow). Thoreau wrote about simplicity setting us free. Buddhist ascetic nature – all these things are about stripping life to its most essential. Granted, in those philosophies, you don’t have a $400 Bose headphones, but then who said you couldn’t revise ancient thought (improve?).

My stuff and the life I knew shrunk into 3 crates, buried into deep storage, somewhere soon to be 12,000 miles away What’s left to my person, my existence is contained in a 52 pound bag and a carry on. Freedom. It took me many years to get here, and the journey never seems so long once you have arrived.

This whole travel thing began with a restlessness to get away. Each year over the last few, I would put off travel. After my business school graduation, when everybody and their brother took off to the deep Tibetan mountains or to climb Kilemanjaro, I pushed forward with my marketing start-up. It could have waited a few months. And when others took off 10 days or a week to go to Latin America for Carnivale, I stayed home or went on another Jewish Singles Odyssey. Wasted time, not exactly, especially the time in Marbella. However, not inspiring.

So, late last year I began seeing the beginning of the end at Woolbright. Like all visionary leaders, my previous boss was brilliant to watch, but sometimes difficult to work for. You weren’t working with him. He was working and you were mostly standing their as window dressing. OK for a while, because just being in the store is an honor, but later, you want to actually do something.

It turned out that Glenn had a similar wanderlust, and we decided that we would travel at least some of the way together – it wound up that we planned everything and most of it together. Now, I can’t say that we did this perfectly. Probably more flexibility and less places could have been another way to do it

My goal for the trip is happiness. Nothing more or less. To practice being happy, open minded, optimistic, patient. Applied correctly, these elements will allow me to create a fulfilling life when I get back.

I have no keys to lose. I realized this this morning, scrambling, looking for my camera (which turned up in my 2-year-old nieces truck), that everything we have can so easily be gone the next second, but I can’t lose keys now, since I don’t have any. No house, no car, no work swipe card, not even a bicycle lock. And I am happy. Without those things. Once again, freedom.

Spent tonight at Glenn’s packing and getting ready. Our Flight was at 7:37 tomorrow morning. We stopped in Chicago before taking off to Tokyo and eventually to Bangkok. Chicago was cold, but not frigid. White snow always reminds me of the fun I had as a kid on snow days. Those are memorable times. I also vividly remember the day, in 1996, when the blizzard hit New York. I had been relentlessly toiling for 6 months in my job at as an investment banker, skipping weekends, avoiding a social life, and the day came when it snowed too hard to even get to work (and I lived in Manhattan). Heidi Schnier, Igor Gonta and a few others walked the abandoned streets of the Village, up through central park. Throwing snowballs, savoring the numbness in our hands, the sweaty-scalp from the vigorous effort of trekking through waist-high snow drifts. Avoiding the windshield-wiper frenzied zombie cars mindlessly coasting the streets, drifting on errands, refusing to be thwarted by the endless snow. The beautiful, mountainess, endless snow. When I had returned to work, sitting next to Sandro, I was alive for the first time in months. Sandro Wolf went on to much success, before, tragically, he died in a skiing accident in Switzerland two years ago. All things will pass.

My sister is a miraculous woman and her kids are growing so quickly. Addie can exhaust even the most dedicated playmate, but she is so cute!

Part of this freedom is not having any responsibilities, except to myself and to self-growth. It is the first time and last time in my life this has and will happen.

…….The 22 hour journey to Bangkok was harmless and even invigorating. The stewardesses on our flight were completing their training and this was their first international flight (ORD to Tokyo). Everybody is beginning anew.