Desserts in the desert

At last, after we had our fill of dessert and petrol, we set out from Manali. With only one set of spare clothes in our bags (we can both wear all our clothes at once), a lightened library consisting of Arabian Nights, Joseph Campbell, Vipassana Meditation, and an herb book, the food stuff, mentioned previously, 2 5-litre gasolene cans and a toolbox. The toolbox has a spare chain, two tire levers and wrenches, spare cables, bulbs, spare plugs and points. Not everyone was carrying tools and certainly no Indians. They believe in the gods, mostly Ganesha for luck. Out bags covered in blue tarp and ourselves clad in blue mistry(mechanic) outfits, we left Manali after fresh bread arrived in the bakery. This only proved to be an annoying mistake. As we got out of Manali on the road to Rohtang Pass, there were innumberable shops renting old ski outfits and funky snow capes. We passed numberable cars at first and were glad to see them pull in at the outfit shops. In the 52 kms to Rohtang La, we ended up passing jeeps, cars, and trucks by the hundreds. When we came to the last mile of the climax of the pass, thinking still "one more truck and that will be it," we found ourselves upside down in a traffic jam. As the roads in Himachal are only one lane wide, one time as we were passing a stopped truck that we were stuck behind, we toppled over at barely moving speed. We had no injury and the bike was fine, except the headlamp's glass broke. Once we got up, with the help of the plenty of Sikh tourists looking like old-school pimps in their furry capes playing in the over-touristed snow, we continued to try to maneuouver around. It was unbelievable, there were more cars and jeeps and trucks at the top than we had passes along the way. WIth jeeps and cars of tourists and taxis parked on both sides, trucks and motorcycles trying to get through and many more cars and jeeps trying to turn around. At times, we just waited and walked around one at a time, neither seeing the entire clog at once. The passing wherever we could, we made it out after a few hours. The pass that we had crossed in September last year had completely changed, with walls of snow up to nine feet marking the road. The road was terrible with a massive amount of water on it. But being on a motorcycle, we got out before the cars and trucks could make it so we were alone on the raod. First day's driving was rough as we had to pass so many vehicles, then sit up at 4000 meters in exhaust fumes, then descend the pass half in rivers of melting snow, half in road. The scenery over the pass was immediately compelling though and got ever greater as we drove. We filled our tank and the two five-liter cans at the last gas station we would see until Leh. With 26 liters of petrol and all of us, the bike got heavy but pulled us through to the first night's camping place. alp!

We found an idyllic camping spot in Darcha, unloaded the bike, and ate tuna fish sandwiches with our morning bread. The full moon rose over the grand icy mountains and lit the big sky like daylight. The next morning we approached the second pass, Baralacha La, and it was an unnervingly snowy, puddly mess. After slipping a few times in the sloppy rivers of water on the road, we made it to the top and immediately wanted to come down. Our experience on these high passes reminds me of John Krakauer's explainations of how it feels to be on the tallest mountains of the world- when at the top, all you want to do is come down. Our feet were soaked from the splashing and the incessant bumps ached our bodies, so we arrived in Sarchu for lunch a bit discouraged. The lady who made our food vouched that the road onwards to Pang was better though and that gave the necessary impetus to continue. After climbing switchback roads galore, we made it to the top of Lachlung La, but not before it began to snow and became chillingly cold. The bike slipped on some black ice but we all bounced, nothing hurt, and gritted our teeth to make it over the top. We pulled into Pang, a tiny tent\food stop to see our American acquaintances Bobcat and Daisy waving their welcome to us. Instead of opting for a mattress in the back of one of the food tents, we rolled out our tomb of a tent above the army chechpoint and below a beautiful vista of ochre fairy-chimney-like outgrowths and snowy peaks. Unfortunately, it was was also the bathroom and beer bottle-smashing area of the tent colony and all its animals.
Day Three began with us in wary states of mind as to what surprises would await us on the final, and tallest, pass of the journey. We rode through a vast plain surrounded by glistening mountains and even stopped to meet a nomad woman and give her some water. Unexpectedly, the trip up to Tanglang La was markedly less treacherous than the lower three passes and we stopped for a moment to photo-document our conquering of the second-highest motorable pass in the world, at the breathless altitude of 5300 meters. Once descending, we encountered more marvellous scenery and a road paved enough to enjoy it, for once. Approximately 60 kms outside of Leh, there is a green valley hugged by the most miraculous dusky pink stone mountains and it truly must be seen to be believed. Closer to Leh, we began to see the famous gompas and monastaries for which Ladakh is renowned, as well as incongruous fileds of vivid green crops across the road from sand dunes. As with any true adventure, this epic ride was approaching not fun at times but is amazing to think back on in hindsight!
ingrid

I can now tell a bit about what I may have benefitted from Vipassana Meditation. Physically my posture has been better and no backache after 8-12 hour days on the bike. For the buttocks, when you don't react to your soreness, it is not so bad. The mental concentration one has to have on Indian roads! Mostly because of road conditions, not the drivers. Although we have practiced only a few hours of sitting meditation since the course, the road has been our meditation.
alp

Himalayan Scrolls

dear friends~
we have been entertaining ourselves with a number of games but one of our favourites and certainly the most productive is the scroll game (aka the poetry game). we trade lines back and forth, revealing only the second line of the two we write each turn. here are two recent ones; perhaps they will do the best job of showing you all our state of minds.

Out of my lips flow
a bird of truth, striving towards the sea
beating the air with its wings
alters the destiny of us all
by showing us just how and when
we are all allowed to drop and fall
some get up some stay down
lucky are the ones who get a call
and answer it with a strength
like a hurricane and full of gall
the soul will soar
until it shan't fall
and we all, and I mean we all,
shan't allow for anymore all.

~~~~~ *~~~~~

Inebriate yourself and
sink to the bottom
and let hair tangle
and feet trail, the sea knotted them
drowning and crushing
before coming out of the fathom
you must reach down into the deep
and untie them, unknot them
when there are no more of them
you will see one line piercing hell and heaven
and you keep swimming until you see
the rise of that glory of the land of seven
shall make the righteous cry
hallejulia HEAVEN

Manali Ani Kaza

Turkish readers need not get alarmed!
Last week we set out backwards from Spiti valley passing the Jelori pass into the Kullu valley in Himachal Pradesh. Kaza is the last big town in Spiti valley before passing the Kunzum pass into Lahaul and Ladakh. Kaza in turkish means accident. We were driving thru the eastern valleys of Himachal, at one point being very close to Tibet, where we needed permits to go on the road. From Spiti we were goint to drive north to Leh in Ladakh, accilimitizing as we go. In Kaza we learned that the Kunzum pass was not going to open for at least another 10 days so after staying there one night we decided to drive some way back and take the Jelori pass to cross from Rohtang pass into Ladakh. While we were driving thru Jelori we passed a town called Ani which means sudden in turkish. Jelori pass was amazingly beautiful, we could only describe it by magical. It was also the steepest that we will pass, but at 3300m it doesn't rival the two 5000+m passes that we will cross in Ladakh before we get to Leh. Right now we are having a grand time with plum wine, falafal lafas, desert and our old room from September in Manali. Manali means meaningful in turkish; thus the title Meaningful Sudden Accident the names of towns we left, passes and arrived at. We have had no mishap, no accident or no mechanical problems, maasallah. Ingrid is our navigator, native language expert as well as the beautifunk girl in the mechanic outfit; with her directional intuition, being able to decipher signs and her charm we haven't even gone the wrong way once. On our outfits we have the evil eye, Nazar. And now we have all our bags covered in tarp. All the bags have names because after 9 months of travelling and living in one room your bags become the shelfs, the tables and all the surfaces we normally occupy become bags. We have very good coffee from Coorg that we make turkish style and have it with powdered milk. As well as: apple blossom honey, drinkably pure himalayan rose water, apricot oil, bee pollen, mangoesm cherries, apricots, plums, cashews, almonds and herbs of every kind. So don't feel bad for us we are enjoying life like kings and queens. Ingrid also startes sewing though she doesn't do it while we are driving (the roads are a bit rough). But still in three days she has knitted me the worlds most beatiful scarf and earmuffs for herself from yarn of goat wool. All of you take care,
alp

While Alp uses all his third eye energy focusing on the ever-changing road conditions, I bounce along merrily in the back, enjoying the ride because remember- why hike when you can bike? Though technically we haven't covered such huge distances (the MOST we can manage is about 300 kilometers a day; our average speed is 25 km/h), the terrain has been spectacular and everchanging as well. We've seen nearly all the valleys of Himachal Pradesh and each has its own particular gorgeousness. The region of Kinnaur has the fabulous Kinner Kailash mountains staring snowy and gleaming over the high village of Kalpa, where we stayed for six days, relishing the nip in the air and our John Irving mountain readaloud tradition. We were welcomed along the checkpoints of the Indo-Tibetan highway thanks entirely to Alp's moustache. Having that furry upper lip simply erases all the mistrust and lack of understanding between cultures. It seems a moustache is not just fashion~ it is a lifestyle choice, it is a universal symbol of good manliness, it is humanity grown on a face. Spiti was flanked by bleak, sandy mountain banks and occasional snowy peaks. I wanted to take a picture of each moment riding through that epic country and its unearthy beauty. The roads were very deserted, save for the ladies and gents who troll along the road everyday sweeping up the rocky debris that tumbles down from on high, and i felt like we were in a galaxy far away and a time unknown. The small town of Tabo is Spiti looked like a true oasis in the midst of this landscape, with irrigated fields of green and an ancient monastary that looked moulded out of clay by children. The current Dalai Lama plans to retire to this tiny town and so I hope it doesn't exchange its peacefulness for the scene of Dharamshala in the future. After learning that the Kunzum La would require us to wait, Alp managed record levels of endurance to speed us up to Manali. Despite the variable road conditions, the only major obstacles we encountered (both coming and going) was a landslide area that washed away some of the the road between Tabo and Recong Peo. Going we managed up the steep embankment with six extra sets of hands and Alp's steely determination. Now, we are enjoying our honeymoon suite again and resting our bums for the next mountain voyage! with love~
ingrid

10 Days, 100 Hours Later

Some people go to jail because they are bad, and some go because they are good. Ten days of solitude, silence, and 10 hours of meditation a day; this was the hardest thing we did in a long time. But having said all that if you want to practice meditation this is the course to take, because of its intensity, it allows you to break through a barrier that might take years get through if at all. The experience was intensely personal and requires nothing but the good intentions and effort of the meditator. Perhaps that is one of the hardest aspects of the whole course: one learns that one is entirely responsible for one's experience and his/her reaction to it. No guru helps you achieve peace of mind, no outsider magically alleviates all one's unhappinesses, no thing soothes your aching muscles. The experience is wholly your own... like your life. Perhaps after more time has past and we are able to sit and talk with you all in person, it will be easier to explain our complex experiences with Vipassana.

May all beings be happy

Hopping Hills and Hopping Mad

After getting thoroughly fatigued by Delhi's polluted air and crowded conditions in the tourist ghetto, we were fortunate enough to spend two days with our friends, the Shins, in south Delhi. With their characteristic munificence, they fed us three well-balanced meals a day and we enjoyed playing with their kids, four-year old Ji-Min who speaks perfect English and her little brother who has hair that stands straight up as if by static electricity and has just learned to walk in the few months since we saw him last. We took the train to Kathogdam and then had a nausea-inducing jeep ride up to Almora to find the bike right where Esin and Uli said it would be. After resting for two days in the hamlet of Kasar Devi, once bright shiny morning we were loading all our luggage onto the bike to start moving across the state of Uttaranchal when we got into the first full-fledged fight of our travels of eight months. The proprietors of our guesthouse changed the price of our room from 100 to 150 rupees, which wouldn't have been a big problem if we had rationally discussed the misunderstanding and they had conceeded that the senile elderly father had made a mistake. But they refused to take any money from us, called us cheaters, and Ingrid lost her temper. After screaming her best in hindi, we went down the hill to Almora and found some police, who listened to Ingrid's excited, grammatically tragic version of the story and were very happy to tell us not to worry about it. Long story short, we didn't pay for our two nights stay and proceeded on to Gwaldam. We have hopped from one town to the next over the past four days in the foothills of the Himalayas and have finally ended up back in the hot plains in the city of Dehra Dun, where we are attempting to conglomerate all our supplies for the trip up to the high mountains following our Vipassana. With only the help of some tarp, a pair of bandannas, and an extra mechanics outfit, we are attempting the next metamorphosis of our identities. As Dignan says in the film "Bottle Rocket:" "On the run from Johnny Law; ain't no trip to Cleveland." Adios.

Delhilation

Back in Delhi, and it is hard to convey or even understand the elation we are feeling from the streets that are filled with filth yet so magical. No more straight sidewalks to walk on, or putting your legs on automatic pilot while your mind wonders around. You have to be here now, or you'll get run over. Our minor irritations have left us as soon as we came to Delhi and although it is hot here too not like Thailand. We feel happy and our appetit0es are rising day by day. Streetcarts are full of mangos and we are giddily using our Hindi once again, much to Indians' glee. Alp and his moustache remind folks of Bhagat Singh, the legendary freedom fighter, and people give him his due respect. We are staying in a rat trap hotel but Esin and her travelling swiss cheesemaker companion are staying one floor below us. We are spending a lot of time in our cramped rooms, drinking tea and eating mass quantities of the Isins' favourite things (like honey, yogurt, and bread) and talking about our travels. They left the motorcycle in Almora, in the foothills of the Himalayas near the western Nepali border, and we will pick it up in about a week. We'll be waiting for the high passes to open to start our Ladakh and Kashmir trip, so in the meantime we are going to attend a ten-day Vipassana meditation course in Dehra Dun at the end of May. We don't know too much about it but it is ten days of silence, men and women separate, everyone avoiding interpersonal interaction. There are centers all over the world and it is run on a donation basis. Click on the title for the link to the website.

Retro-spek!

Due to leave South-east Asia in a few hours, I wanted to see if there was anything else I could squeeze out of my mind about this place and our experience here. We have been without TV since 2004, yet we read the newspaper somewhat regularly to get updated. It is unknown to us how you people in America are coping with that President, and Iam not sure even if we really want to know. But if there is anything you would like to vent out do leave it in the comments. When we first arrived in Thailand, we were impressed with its modernity and was a relief for a while from the dirt and clutter of India. For a while I was even unsure if I would recommend people to go to India instead of coming to Thailand, but as we started travelling my thoughts started to change. In Ko Lanta, first place we visited outside Bangkok, it started to become obvious what was missing here that India had alot more. The island of Lanta is filled with nice tourist places, much nicer than Goa in India, but other then the beach there is nothing there. Whereas in Goa when you dive inland there is a sense of purpose beyond tourism industry, of just life as it is. Thailand being so open to tourism with its natural beauty is sort of like an inflated balloon, much on the surface yet hallow inside. All in all it is still worth seeing, more for the food then anything else, but I can guarentee if you wanted to come to a beach for a few weeks and take it easy while eating good food (albeit not for cheap) Thailand is superb. Yet in Bangkok the street stalls with stuff on sticks, noodles and shakes has been our greatest pleasure. We have been doing very little shopping as we don't have a house to shop for, but using the malls to cool off. Our last memorable experience in Thailand was last night as we delibarated for an hour and a half in if $5 was too much to pay for a T-shirt or not. After walking around that long and giving ourselves a backache we finally snapped out of it and got two rockin T-shirts just as the last and best T-shirt stall set up. Then we proceeded to our Chee-Wan #3 joint where we had our luminecent cocktail and finally for the third night in a row to our favorite Tom-Yum stall, where we thought we would get one Tom-Yum for the memory of it. After we had our third bowl and hopefully making some history, we vanished into the alley across.
alp alcazar isin II

Farewell to South-East Asia

our final days in thailand have found us once again grovelling at the feet of the owners of the Bamboo guesthouse. despite being perhaps the most un-hospitable people in Bangkok, we are forced, like abused housewives, back into the shelter of their large rooms, ornate headboards, and camoflage blanket/curtains. for a mere 50 cents more than what we would pay for a box-like room with space literally only for a bed in other more friendly establishments, we are a two minute walk from our favorite tomyum street stall, which, as if it could get any better, now offers fruit shakes of all varieties to cool one's spicy tongue. we spent the last week in the northern city of chiang mai, awaiting our next set of indian visas. after crossing our fingers, everything turned out rosily with the babus. it has gotten seriously hot and we are not ashamed to say that we spent much of our time there reading books aloud in our room, hiding from the midday heat and enjoying the only reasonably priced bookstores in all south-east asia. we tried to relive the fun of renting bicycles and lazily exploring lanes, but thai traffic is not nearly as langourous as that of laos or cambodia and we were traffic hazards when we weren't waiting for minutes to cross the streets filled with a continuous flux of cars and more cars. to tell the truth, of enthusiasm for temples and cultural sites has waned considerably, though we did make it to one fairly ancient teak wat and chatted with a monk for an hour. in chiang mai, there is a system set up for the many monks in the city to meet up with foreigners and practice their english, hence the term "monk chat." it seemed to me though that the impromtu chat did us as much good as the monk, as we hardly speak to any one but ourselves. monk chat= alp and ingrid's reintroduction to being sociable people.
ingo

Well we have had a few people that stumbled on our path that we had a good conversation with, but a lot of foreigners are of a different mind set then us. As an example let me offer the Chaing Mai night bazaar, which is supposed to be famous yet all you find in six blocks of things is the same thing one after another. Thailand's openness to tourism has created a tourist industry so well trimmed for the vacationer that the street stalls are selling what you are buying in department stores in America. The other is the hill tribe trekking offered in Chaing Mai, it sounds nice yet it is the most intrusive thing you could do and the travel agents fill up minivans and buses everyday and take gawking tourists, some wanting to go there to smoke opium while others go to buy the traditional clothes off the people's bodies. This activity causes the hill tribe to lose their tradition in the fastest time while they get nothing from the money the travel agents make from taking the gawkers up there. These are the mojority of the people that are in our vicinity. Just how would they feel if their christmas party became a tourist attraction they do not think about. But there are also interesting people, just in very few numbers. So the last party we went to you were there too. But we are getting along wonderfully together and we think of this as the longest date we have been on. What you get out of being on the road for this long cannot be called a vacation although it is true that we are not being productive we are priming ourselves, dreaming and storing up the energy and enthusiasm that is required to accomplish them.
al' pino

ps there are pictures of Laos and Cambodia in the pictures link below. And you can help our alienation by commenting.

2548 in Laos

With another set of stamps in our passports, we are newly returned to thailand after two weeks in laos. our visit in the old capitol of luang prabang coincided with the buddhist new year festival, which was basically a big santictioned excuse for everyone to get drunk, drench one another with water, and parade in the streets. we didn't really party with everyone else but it was an interesting anthropological sight to see foreigners and laos pointing water guns at one another from opposite camps. luang prabang was filled with handicrafts, as stalls set up every evening on the main promenade outside the palace museum, but we failed to buy anything. we have discovered a syndrome in our shopping: when we first arrive in a place with beautiful new things, we are consummed with thoughts of acquisition but as the days go by, our intentions shift and we become satisfied just by seeing the lovely fabrics, colors, and objects on display. if we were settling anywhere or simply there and there on vacation, we would be buying like everyone else but we know that anything we buy will simply have to be carried to the next place we go, and the next, and on and on. we left luang prabang to catch the slow boat up the mekong river, a two-day trip with marvellous scenery. the first day was hardly comfortable though, as we were forced to try and make ourselves comfortable on wooden slat seats but that made the second, with its plush airline seats, all the more luxurious. northern laos along the mekong is extremely beautiful and very lightly populated with people but heavily with bamboo and green. the water and rocks made deep whirlpools in the surface of the water and we saw pink water buffalo grazing along the banks. evidently, around this time of the year, the world's largest freshwater fish is captured in the mekong near the thai/lao border. the giant catfish grows up to 3 meters long and only a few of them are caught every year. one always feels a little silly trying to sum up an entire nation and its people in a few careless words but laos was a very enjoyable country, with pleasant little cities, a huge amount of countryside to be explored, and generally sweet people. i was hasten to add though that in this newly-opened-up communist country and along the tourist route (which i won't pretend we didn't follow), there are many many tourists and touts. it sort of takes the joy out of being in a small port town along the mekong and hearing loud foreigners and their life stories as you are eating your dinner.
ingrid

Not stayed anywhere for more than a week in quite some time now and it is getting harder to pack up and move on. Yet we can manage three full days on the road. When I think back on some of the distance considerations I used to have they seem comical now. We agreed to not write more about our plans as they allude us ever so perpetually and there is no reason to waste your retinal cells on projected futures. We are conflicted about our wanting to see more and wanting to cook our own food again. However we continue to enjoy ourselves and hope the same is true for all of you.
alp

Eats, shakes and leaves

it is hot like hell in luang prabang. my shins are sweating and alp is losing all the hair on his balls due to the sweltering conditions in his pants. just conveying you a conversation being held right now in this part of the world, "i dont think it is about a relationship, i think it is about two people being together", and i would like to turn around and say then what do you call two people being together, but instead iam blogging as it is much more passive aggresive. so you can tell by now there is not much to say, we are ignoring the sites here with the attitude that why should we go to the sites all the time, why shouldn't the sites come to us sometimes? the truth is, we have seen so much it is getting hard to impress us, beautiful waterfall, yes i would see it if it wasn't 30km away and cost $15 dollars a person to get there only to find crowds of people there, i love waterfalls and have seen very beautiful ones and will continue to see more. the thing is most people here are on vacation and they crave sites so they will go look at anything, i am not saying the waterfall is not pretty but would you like to see a pretty waterfall filled with more tourist than water in dry season? we like to eat, shakes and leaves.