Here's a guard at the Royal Palace in Prague, Czech Republic. Like the palace guards in London, there's no smiling allowed...no matter how many faces you make at them.
Paul
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Castles galore
If you like castles, you'd love the Czech Republic. Every area has one...or two...or three. They vary widely in age, even within the same castle. Originally it was built in the 12th century, then added on and rebuilt and redesigned every couple hundred years or so. This picture is a good example: you can see the older foundation, the tower built on top of it, and the newer tower to the left. Cool place from which to drop a big vat of boiling oil on your enemies.
Paul
Bones and Beer
Just when this land of 30,000 castles and cathedrals was becoming routine and I was apathetic regarding the Baroque/Renaissance/Gothic designs; Surprise! The Bone Chapel perked us right up. The 40,000 victims of the plague contributed their skeletons and a local wood-craftsman used these surplus materials to decorate a chapel. (The cemetary was overflowing.) It's a bizarre sight but more artful than spooky or irreverent.
Next we toured the Budweiser beer factory in Ceske Budjovice and admired the Czech national beverage. Some say the American Anheiser-Busch Budweiser company stole the Czech beer name because it stood for quality though the superior and treasured recipe stayed in Bohemia. There are still 40 unresolved lawsuits regarding the trademark dispute. No end in sight. When they sell this Czech Budweiser in the US, it's labeled Czechvar so as not to confuse it with our watered-down brew. The Czech brewery is now a nationalized company and were thinking of privatlizing it but are concerned that Anheiser-Busch will buy up all the stock and take it over. This beer is served up with lots of foam and flavor.
The Czech per person consumption averages 160 liters per person per year but that's counting babies and kids so you can see some solid beer bellies around. Beer is cheaper than water or Coke and coffee costs double what a mug of beer does. Now that's a pity!
Donna
Next we toured the Budweiser beer factory in Ceske Budjovice and admired the Czech national beverage. Some say the American Anheiser-Busch Budweiser company stole the Czech beer name because it stood for quality though the superior and treasured recipe stayed in Bohemia. There are still 40 unresolved lawsuits regarding the trademark dispute. No end in sight. When they sell this Czech Budweiser in the US, it's labeled Czechvar so as not to confuse it with our watered-down brew. The Czech brewery is now a nationalized company and were thinking of privatlizing it but are concerned that Anheiser-Busch will buy up all the stock and take it over. This beer is served up with lots of foam and flavor.
The Czech per person consumption averages 160 liters per person per year but that's counting babies and kids so you can see some solid beer bellies around. Beer is cheaper than water or Coke and coffee costs double what a mug of beer does. Now that's a pity!
Donna
Donna on the castle wall - Cesky Krumlov
Here's a view of the town of Cesky Krumlov. What you can't see is that the river makes a couple of unlikely turns around town, creating a natural moat all the way around the old part of town. The castle up on the hill is outside the waterway, so instead of a water-filled moat, they have a moat filled with bears!
Paul
Our room in Cesky Krumlov
Here's our tower guest house in Cesky Krumlov. It's called Ve Vice, and it's a 16th Century bastion, once part of the town defenses. This little town has become quite popular in recent years since it was added to the Unesco list of World Heritage sites. The recent film "The Illusionist" was shot in part here and also in Prague. So far, I've resisted the impulse to stand outside and yell, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"
Paul
The Bone Chapel in the Czech Republic
Here's an oddly entertaining stop, which should be of particular interest to our beloved but slightly macabre friend Ginger. This is the bone chapel, which is a real chapel, decorated with the bones of some 40,000 victims of the plague in the 16th century. Here I'm standing below the bone chandelier, which supposedly contains at least one of every bone in the human body. A very strange and eerie place. The walls are adorned with bone artwork, and in four corners are huge piles of skulls and bones.
Today we're in Cesky Krumlov, the cutest little medieval town you ever saw. We're staying in a 16th century tower right beside the river (and the town brewery). The fact that one of the four tower rooms was available speaks to the fact that we've jumped the gun on the Czech tourist season. Nearly every castle doesn't open for visitors until April 1st. We're debating whether to backtrack to see some places that weren't yet open or to forge ahead into Austria or Slovakia or Slovenia or Hungary or ....????
The days are winding down on our big adventure, so we must make the most of them.
Paul
Friday, March 23, 2007
How to build a traffic jam...India style...plus misc. rambling
Okay, this is a step back in time. We've already driven 1000 kilometers all over Germany, including Donna's ancestral homeland in Ladbergen (near Munster), endured rain, sleet, and a snowstorm, and landed in the Czech Republic, but part of my head is still in Incredeeeeble Eeeeendia.
On our last day, on the way back from Agra and the Taj Mahal, we encountered a traffic jam of epic proportions. So, in the interest of cross-cultural education, I've decided to instruct you on the proper way to build an inextricable, ridiculous traffic jam that could actually last a day or two.
Our traffic jam started because one village was having a Holi festival, we think in part because of the opening of a new school. Holi is the Indian color festival, and it's the craziest and most celebrated of the many Hindu holidays. People splash each other with paint and colored water (sometimes from the river, so it's best to keep your mouth tightly closed). We thought we had missed Holi by a few days, but Sunder our driver told us in some places they celebrate it for a week and sometimes as much as a month.
But I digress. Back to the task at hand: building the perfect traffic jam.
Because of the Holi festival, traffic was stopped in both directions on our four-land road. As traffic piled up, our northbound two lanes became four tightly packed pseudo lanes. People were running between the cars covered with yellow paint and waving palm branches. They were telling people that there was free food in the village ahead. When we inched up to an intersection, more people with palm branches were saying (in Hindi, paraphrased for this primarily non-Hindi speaking audience), "Look, there's nobody in these southbound lanes, go on over there! It'll be fine!"
Which, of course, everyone did, forming four more northbound lanes in what were supposed to be southbound lanes, which were empty because of the mirror-image southbound Holi festival traffic jam.
Of course, somewhere about 3 kilometers ahead of us, the same thing was happening with the southbound traffic. The result was about 8 northbound lanes headbutting 8 southbound lanes on what is supposed to be a 4 lane road. Now THAT is a traffic jam.
Because the curb of the median was quite high (about bumper height), there was no easy way for people to get back on the correct (left) side of the road. The result was a laughable mishmash of northbound and southbound cars on both side of the freeway. People were building mini-ramps of rocks or trying to lift cars onto the median so they could cross back. Others were taking to the fields with mixed results. You could make a bit of progress in the field (we did), but then you'd come to a wall or steps or...?
So, what do you do if you're stuck in such a mess? Remember, there's free food just a little way ahead. Why not abandon your car/wagon/bus/tractor/camel/truck and go have a bite to eat while the whole thing straightens itself out? And so they did.
It would have been more amusing if:
- we didn't have to keep the windows closed to keep from being doused with yellow paint
- our air conditioner worked more than a little
- we didn't have a virtuall empty gas tank
- it wasn't 95 degrees fahrenheit
- the trucks and tractors hemming us in had better emission controls.
We would inch forward ten feet, then stop and shut off the engine. Somehow, we actually got through it, due in part to some great cooperative civilian traffic copping, a large amount of shouting and exhorting, and our driver's (Sunder is my hero) driving skill and impressive desire to get us all out of there alive. Sunder said that it could easily last a day or more, since there are few alternative routes and traffic (and frustrations) continue to pile up from behind.
Paul
P.S. A note from Germany, where we rented a car. The next time you fill up your gas tank and wince at the price of gas, be glad you're not in Deutschland. 39.5 liters (almost exactly 10 gallons) cost us about 66 dollars! Yep...that's about $6.50 a gallon. Yikes! No wonder you don't see many gas-guzzling SUVs over here.
P.P.S. The autobahn is fun. No speed limit, except that which is imposed by the snow and slush. Before the whether turned ugly, I hit 175 kilometers per hour (about 105 mph) in the left (fast) lane and had a BMW come up from behind me and flash his brights because I was going too slow! Zooom. Donna chickened out at about 160 kph. What a slowpoke! Because of the price of gas, most traffic moves at about 130-140 kph, which is a more fuel-efficient speed.
P.P.P.S. Who made up the names of German towns anyway? I look at the road map, and two seconds later I can't remember the name of the next town. That's bad, because road signs refer more to towns than route numbers. These are towns with names like Schmickenzieshmeckendorfensteinburg or Badfahrtschmellinzieschtinken.
Enough for now.
Love you.
Paul
On our last day, on the way back from Agra and the Taj Mahal, we encountered a traffic jam of epic proportions. So, in the interest of cross-cultural education, I've decided to instruct you on the proper way to build an inextricable, ridiculous traffic jam that could actually last a day or two.
Our traffic jam started because one village was having a Holi festival, we think in part because of the opening of a new school. Holi is the Indian color festival, and it's the craziest and most celebrated of the many Hindu holidays. People splash each other with paint and colored water (sometimes from the river, so it's best to keep your mouth tightly closed). We thought we had missed Holi by a few days, but Sunder our driver told us in some places they celebrate it for a week and sometimes as much as a month.
But I digress. Back to the task at hand: building the perfect traffic jam.
Because of the Holi festival, traffic was stopped in both directions on our four-land road. As traffic piled up, our northbound two lanes became four tightly packed pseudo lanes. People were running between the cars covered with yellow paint and waving palm branches. They were telling people that there was free food in the village ahead. When we inched up to an intersection, more people with palm branches were saying (in Hindi, paraphrased for this primarily non-Hindi speaking audience), "Look, there's nobody in these southbound lanes, go on over there! It'll be fine!"
Which, of course, everyone did, forming four more northbound lanes in what were supposed to be southbound lanes, which were empty because of the mirror-image southbound Holi festival traffic jam.
Of course, somewhere about 3 kilometers ahead of us, the same thing was happening with the southbound traffic. The result was about 8 northbound lanes headbutting 8 southbound lanes on what is supposed to be a 4 lane road. Now THAT is a traffic jam.
Because the curb of the median was quite high (about bumper height), there was no easy way for people to get back on the correct (left) side of the road. The result was a laughable mishmash of northbound and southbound cars on both side of the freeway. People were building mini-ramps of rocks or trying to lift cars onto the median so they could cross back. Others were taking to the fields with mixed results. You could make a bit of progress in the field (we did), but then you'd come to a wall or steps or...?
So, what do you do if you're stuck in such a mess? Remember, there's free food just a little way ahead. Why not abandon your car/wagon/bus/tractor/camel/truck and go have a bite to eat while the whole thing straightens itself out? And so they did.
It would have been more amusing if:
- we didn't have to keep the windows closed to keep from being doused with yellow paint
- our air conditioner worked more than a little
- we didn't have a virtuall empty gas tank
- it wasn't 95 degrees fahrenheit
- the trucks and tractors hemming us in had better emission controls.
We would inch forward ten feet, then stop and shut off the engine. Somehow, we actually got through it, due in part to some great cooperative civilian traffic copping, a large amount of shouting and exhorting, and our driver's (Sunder is my hero) driving skill and impressive desire to get us all out of there alive. Sunder said that it could easily last a day or more, since there are few alternative routes and traffic (and frustrations) continue to pile up from behind.
Paul
P.S. A note from Germany, where we rented a car. The next time you fill up your gas tank and wince at the price of gas, be glad you're not in Deutschland. 39.5 liters (almost exactly 10 gallons) cost us about 66 dollars! Yep...that's about $6.50 a gallon. Yikes! No wonder you don't see many gas-guzzling SUVs over here.
P.P.S. The autobahn is fun. No speed limit, except that which is imposed by the snow and slush. Before the whether turned ugly, I hit 175 kilometers per hour (about 105 mph) in the left (fast) lane and had a BMW come up from behind me and flash his brights because I was going too slow! Zooom. Donna chickened out at about 160 kph. What a slowpoke! Because of the price of gas, most traffic moves at about 130-140 kph, which is a more fuel-efficient speed.
P.P.P.S. Who made up the names of German towns anyway? I look at the road map, and two seconds later I can't remember the name of the next town. That's bad, because road signs refer more to towns than route numbers. These are towns with names like Schmickenzieshmeckendorfensteinburg or Badfahrtschmellinzieschtinken.
Enough for now.
Love you.
Paul
Going Back In Time To The Old Country
We've missed being in touch with you since India and ironically, it's because we've found an Internet-Free Zone in Germany. Since leaving Frankfurt on Tuesday to drive the Rhine River valley of grapevine hillsides and castles, we've seen a mere one internet cafe and I'm taking the blame for passing it by. (Don't get the idea it was my fault, though!)
Germany feels a bit like home. People look like us which is pleasant but means they can't tell we aren't Germans and have NO understanding of the language. What did I learn in German class in high school??? They keep rambling and talking in words made up of 14+ syllables and we keep looking stunned and stupid. We're limited to the basics of civility: danke, guten tag, bitta. It's surprising how few people speak English. Not that they're obligated to or should. That's our job when visiting their country. It's just unexpected.
Germany is where all my ancestors lived until approximately the 1850's and we stopped by one of the homeplaces. My mom's dad's family lived in Ladbergen (near Muenster or Dortmouth). Thanks to help from Uncle Don and Aunt Gail we found the location of their farm. It's at a junction of where a creek meets the Dortmouth-Ems Canal which still carries river traffic... barges and work boats. Maybe great-great-great grandpa left via the canal heading north to a ship taking him into the North Sea. Brrrr. Like most family geneology, visiting the homeplace was both anticlimactic and simultaneously heart warming and deeply satisfying. I like knowing the homeplace is still in a farming community with nearby woods and well-tended gardens, gravesites and homes.
The weather here is 60 degrees colder than India with 3" more snow than Dehli has ever seen. But no matter the weather, the towns are still either 1) cute or 2) industrial and/or 3) rebuilt since the war. We're equally comfortable/uncomfortable on the Autobahn watching BMW's pass us doing 180+ Kilometer/hour and in the narrow windy town streets. Today there was sunshine and country roads that weren't on the Czech Republic map. And Internet!!! Thanks for comments and emails. We miss you and know you'll make Minnesota warmer than Central Europe.
Donna
(past tense because we're in the Czech Republic today)
Germany feels a bit like home. People look like us which is pleasant but means they can't tell we aren't Germans and have NO understanding of the language. What did I learn in German class in high school??? They keep rambling and talking in words made up of 14+ syllables and we keep looking stunned and stupid. We're limited to the basics of civility: danke, guten tag, bitta. It's surprising how few people speak English. Not that they're obligated to or should. That's our job when visiting their country. It's just unexpected.
Germany is where all my ancestors lived until approximately the 1850's and we stopped by one of the homeplaces. My mom's dad's family lived in Ladbergen (near Muenster or Dortmouth). Thanks to help from Uncle Don and Aunt Gail we found the location of their farm. It's at a junction of where a creek meets the Dortmouth-Ems Canal which still carries river traffic... barges and work boats. Maybe great-great-great grandpa left via the canal heading north to a ship taking him into the North Sea. Brrrr. Like most family geneology, visiting the homeplace was both anticlimactic and simultaneously heart warming and deeply satisfying. I like knowing the homeplace is still in a farming community with nearby woods and well-tended gardens, gravesites and homes.
The weather here is 60 degrees colder than India with 3" more snow than Dehli has ever seen. But no matter the weather, the towns are still either 1) cute or 2) industrial and/or 3) rebuilt since the war. We're equally comfortable/uncomfortable on the Autobahn watching BMW's pass us doing 180+ Kilometer/hour and in the narrow windy town streets. Today there was sunshine and country roads that weren't on the Czech Republic map. And Internet!!! Thanks for comments and emails. We miss you and know you'll make Minnesota warmer than Central Europe.
Donna
(past tense because we're in the Czech Republic today)
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Sunder...our best friend in India
Here's Sunder (prounced soon'-duh). He was our driver and best buddy for 10 days of whirlwind touring through Rajasthan in Western India. Always smiling, joking, and absolutely tireless, he knew all the best places for sightseeing, the restaurants that served all-you-can-eat Thalli (10 meals on one plate) for about $1.25, and which combination of curvy, unmarked roads actually would take us where we were supposed to go.
Whenever the traffic was ridiculous or another driver did something unbelievably counter to reason, Sunder would say, "Incredddddd-eeeee-ble Innnndia". That's the slogan of India's tourism campaign.
We'll miss his company, but I'm sure we'll stay in touch. In fact, I bet Sunder is reading this too! Hey, Sunder, sorry India lost the big match to Bangladesh in the Cricket World Cup last night. I knew 190 runs would not be enough. We'll keep watching and hoping that India wins their last two matches in the preliminary round so they can advance to the round of eight.
This photo is from the monkey temple near Agra, an ancient temple built into a craggy canyon. The place is (like many places here) swarming with greedy monkeys. It's good luck to feed them, so we shared a bunch of bananas with them. We didn't make it to the Rat Temple, where it's good luck if a rat runs over your foot, or if you see a white rat, or if a rat nibbles on your food and then you eat the rest. Sorry we missed it.
INCREDIBLE INDIA!
Paul
Last Day in India
Saving the best for last, the Taj Mahal was almost the last of the monument/ temple/ mosque/fort wonders we've visited. It is closed on Fridays for Muslim prayers at the mosque (off to the left side of the Taj) and repairs by the stone workers, we visited it at the end of our trip. I've wanted to see this love monument since I was a little girl. The love story the guides tell about the Majaraja Shah Jahn's endless grief at his wife's death include his daily tears for years after. The story's a little over the top but the building's magical. Weirdly, inlaid Carnelian stone is in all the designs. (Weird as that's in our neighborhood, too.) Monday we're trading India for Germany and the Czech Republic. The last errand in India is to find some warm clothes for Germany. Think they'll carry fleece here?
Donna
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Rajasthan, India - The undisputed world capital for facial hair
Rajasthan is the Westernmost state of India, and where most our travels have been. Here moustaches and beards are a matter of pride and sometimes take on ridiculous proportions. These are two guards at the Meharanj palace in Jodhpur, and if this computer had the right software on it, I'd crop in closer so you could truly appreciate these giant handlebar moustaches. We also see beards, parted in the middle. I have fun teasing the guys with moustaches, telling them that in a year, mine will be bigger than theirs.
Paul
Street performers - Shilpgram, India
This is an artist's colony outside Udaipur, India. It's sponsored by the government as a way to give artists and artisans from remote areas a chance to directly sell their wares to tourists and locals. An artist is awarded a 15-day opportunity to occupy a booth, and if fortunate, can have up to four gigs a year.
How lucrative it is depends entirely on the season. This is a big place, with examples of lower, middle and upper class homes from various parts of India, a performance stage and perhaps 50-100 artisan booths. When we visited there were a grand total of three cars there with visitors. We wished it were more crowded, so that some of the selling pressure and attention would have been deflected elsewhere. Every performer and artisan was desperate for our attention, which was a bit uncomfortable.
Paul
Jodhpur, the blue city
This is a view from the fort in Jodhpur, which sits on a high rock outcropping, down into the old city. The blue houses are not only a sign of the Brahman caste, but also apparently are effective in repelling flies and mosquitoes! (I'm not making that up.)
Paul
It wasn't Wednesday but it was hump day...
In India you don't see much leather, but there is camel-hair upholstery. Here Donna and I are taking a ride outside of Pushkar. For most of our ride we were in the sand or rock roads. Here's our five minutes on pavement.
Paul
Women in Pushkar
Women here carry incredible loads on their heads, including huge baskets of stone and bricks at construction sites. Since I'm taking pictures without the benefit of a viewfinder, this is also an example of really poor framing and composition. My camera is still under warranty (Canon has a full year warranty), but it's only good in the U.S. and Canada, so I'm out of luck until I get home. The result is a lot of bad photos for one good one, and almost no opportunity to take advantage of my long zoom lens, since the more you zoom in, the harder it is to aim while guessing what you'll see. Very frustrating.Paul
Donna here. On an unrelated note, the almost-exclusively vegetarian food is getting tastier as we learn to specify 'spicy, please' with the order. And yesterday our driver took us to a Tali style lunch, a Punjab tradition of greasing your fingers by eating with them. The servers dumped numerous dollops of vegies, rice, yogurt, dal, and my favorite bread - nan on our industrial metal plates and cups. These servers must be reincarnated stern and grumpy school lunch ladies. Didn't say a word, didn't offer a smirk or smile but just kept the food coming. 40 rupees each (less than $1 US) for all you can eat. Yum.
Hamburger's Tomb - New Delhi
Okay, so it's not really "Hamburger." We can never remember the correct name, so that's Donna and my inside joke, based on a scene with Steve Martin in the bad remake of "The Pink Panther." The actual name is Humayun, or something similar. This tomb is actually older than the Taj Mahal, and while spectacular
from a distance, is sadly defaced and graffitied on the inside. The pink sandstone is quite soft, making it easy for people to scratch deeply felt and deeply scarring love notes. Achmed loves Indira, in case you're interested.
Paul
Floating Market at Saduok, Thailand
A step back in time to Thailand, but worth an upload. This is the floating market we visited on our last day in Thailand. Many of the merchants have long sticks with a hook on the end. As you float by, they reach out and grab your boat and pull you in
for a closer, unsolicited look at their wares. Now that's salesmanship!
Paul
Wanted Poster from India
Here's the dirty lowdown scoundrel of a monkey who stole our candy and flowers in Pushkar. You can see him munching away. If you see this monkey, notify the authorities, but don't approach him. He's long-armed and dangerous.
Paul
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
What we have in common with Liz Hurley
Sunday we were in Jodphur, India. For Hollywood celebrity junkies, this is where Liz Hurley, British actress, celebrated her marriage to an Indian businessman last week. Built on top of a 150 meter outcropping in 1490's by one of the Maharajas, the Mehrangarh Fort had never been occupied by foreign powers. Until the invasion of the wedding closed the fort to tourists and locals. The locals were very angry because this hurt their commerce and judging by the trash and cow dung littering the town streets, the celebs wouldn't have dropped any money at the local market. And if they did drop some, they wouldn't have picked it up.
Standing at the top, a sandstorm blackened the sky and sandblasted our faces. Think I lost my Thailand tan in that minute. Leaving Jodphur Monday, there was still some sand left in the desert.The houses below the fort are painted a cornflower blue (Is this still a Crayola color?), the color of the Brahma (highest) caste, but with some loosening of the caste system, most everybody can paint their house blue. (Our great driver said in villages the caste system is intact and if two young people of different castes fall in love, families sometimes have ended the relationship with killings. Marriages are generally arranged by families except for some 'love marriages' which tend to be more acceptable in the cities.)
Monday was a Hindi holiday of some sort. Last night crowds of women (always beautiful and exotically dressed) poured into the temple with offerings of trays of flowers and food. It was a Hindi Girls' Night Out. They earned it, I'm sure, and hope the celebration went late. I assume they can sleep through the Muslim call to prayer at sunrise and the dog choruses. Oh, that's right, they have to get up early to work road construction with pick-axes and baskets of rocks on their head. Some traditions are easier to accept than others, aren't they?
And I'm about to complain about this keyboard making life impossible. Later! :) Donna
Standing at the top, a sandstorm blackened the sky and sandblasted our faces. Think I lost my Thailand tan in that minute. Leaving Jodphur Monday, there was still some sand left in the desert.The houses below the fort are painted a cornflower blue (Is this still a Crayola color?), the color of the Brahma (highest) caste, but with some loosening of the caste system, most everybody can paint their house blue. (Our great driver said in villages the caste system is intact and if two young people of different castes fall in love, families sometimes have ended the relationship with killings. Marriages are generally arranged by families except for some 'love marriages' which tend to be more acceptable in the cities.)
Monday was a Hindi holiday of some sort. Last night crowds of women (always beautiful and exotically dressed) poured into the temple with offerings of trays of flowers and food. It was a Hindi Girls' Night Out. They earned it, I'm sure, and hope the celebration went late. I assume they can sleep through the Muslim call to prayer at sunrise and the dog choruses. Oh, that's right, they have to get up early to work road construction with pick-axes and baskets of rocks on their head. Some traditions are easier to accept than others, aren't they?
And I'm about to complain about this keyboard making life impossible. Later! :) Donna
Monday, March 12, 2007
Pushkar to Jodhpur to Udaipur India
Well, we've been robbed!
Fortunately, it was only a bag of sweets we purchased to leave as an offering at the mountain temple outside Pushkar. The culprit was a black-faced monkey and it snatched the goodies out of Donna's hand before we even realized there were any monkeys in the area. The thief wasn't alone. The middle part of the steep long rocky trail to the top was swarming with expectant monkeys. We debated taking back our flowers and sweets for about 2 seconds, before the monkey bared his teeth and we decided our fingers were worth more than the 25 cent bag of goodies and flower blossoms. In restrospect, I still think it was the right decision.
It was a good forty minute hike with about 750 feet of elevation change (if I remember the sign correctly), and instead of seeing the tourist attractions, for once we became the tourist attaction. This temple, dedicated to the widow of Krishna, is a Hindu pilgrimage site, so there were lots of people from all over India. People were eager to take their picture with us. Apparently, our attempts to blend in are not entirely successful. When we arrived at the temple, wheezing and panting in the heat, we encountered what I can only describe as a Hindu pep rally. In spite of the sign that called for silence, people were singing and dancing and having a grand time. We were able to buy for 40 rupees (less than a dollar), a big bag of sweets and a "pilgrimage goodie bag" which included a couple bracelets, some bindis (stick-on forehead jewels for married women), makeup and fingernail polish and a comb, and some henna dye. You give the bag of sweets to the priest, who deposits a small amount under the neon lit idol, then gives you back the rest. Yummy!
Before leaving Pushkar, we took a quick camel trip out into the desert, past the stone carvers, and colorful sari-clad female construction workers carrying baskets of bricks on their head. For a few magical moments, my camera actually worked properly (every couple of days, it decides to tease me with 5 minutes or an hour of perfect functionality), so we got a good picture of us on camelback, I hope. We'll see how dependable Omar's camera skills are (yes, Omar was really our camel wrangler's name). I'd love to post some pictures, but we left all our CDs in the hotel when we came into the Old Town here in Udaipur. Soon I'll try to do a picture dump. There's so much to show you, but with slow internet connections picture uploading can be a hit-or-miss proposition.
After Pushkar, we headed to Jodhpur, the city those silly puffy riding pants are named for. I think Donna's doing the Jodhpur post right now, so I'll skip over it with this highly abbreviated version: blue city, big old red sandstone fort, giant wind out of desert, flying chair, sand in teeth, crazy market, yummy fried samosa street food for pennies, pigeon poop on shoulder which I am informed is very good luck. How's that for the whirlwind tour (appropriate given the rain and sandstorm!)?
Today, we drove from Jodhpur to Udaipur, stopping at a Jain temple (branch of Hinduism) that rivaled Angkor Wot for stone carving skill, though at just a tiny fraction of the size. The temple has more than 1000 ornately carved marble pillars, no two the same. It was built in the 15th Century, which makes you think how young our country is. You're allowed to take photos of the ornamentation, but not the idols. Sure enough, a group of Germans was caught taking pictures in the forbidden area and evicted from the temple. It seems so easy to respect the few rules and traditions, that it makes me angry when people choose not to.
On the way to Udaipur, we stopped to photograph a group of people pounding a big drum and singing. They were eager to be photographed, but wanted a few rupees in exchange. I try to carry a bunch of 10 rupee notes (about a quarter) to give to the many unfortunates we see. There's no welfare system here, so if you're aged, or handicapped, you're on your own. I started handing out 10 rupee notes to children who were saying "School, school" and before I knew it I was mobbed. I'm not sure where all the people came from. Beggars (and others) aren't afraid to touch and grab you. They were trying to snatch the money from my hand, and one little kid was unabashedly and unskillfully trying to pick my pocket. Fortunately, I was three steps from the car, and Donna was still inside. We got out of there with our rupees and dignity intact.
We've had interesting times with charity. We had a "priest" come up and give us an unsolicited blessing. I gave him ten or twenty rupees, but he wanted me to come over to the nearby street stand and buy him a great big satellite radio. Another elderly woman dragged me to the door of a shop and wanted me to buy her a 10-kilo bag of rice. You wish you could help everyone, but excessive generosity can get you in a lot of trouble, so a harsh "nai" is sometimes necessary.
Enough for now. Before it's get's dark, I want to walk to the lake and see if we can see any crocodiles. Wading is not on the agenda.
Cheers, Paul
Fortunately, it was only a bag of sweets we purchased to leave as an offering at the mountain temple outside Pushkar. The culprit was a black-faced monkey and it snatched the goodies out of Donna's hand before we even realized there were any monkeys in the area. The thief wasn't alone. The middle part of the steep long rocky trail to the top was swarming with expectant monkeys. We debated taking back our flowers and sweets for about 2 seconds, before the monkey bared his teeth and we decided our fingers were worth more than the 25 cent bag of goodies and flower blossoms. In restrospect, I still think it was the right decision.
It was a good forty minute hike with about 750 feet of elevation change (if I remember the sign correctly), and instead of seeing the tourist attractions, for once we became the tourist attaction. This temple, dedicated to the widow of Krishna, is a Hindu pilgrimage site, so there were lots of people from all over India. People were eager to take their picture with us. Apparently, our attempts to blend in are not entirely successful. When we arrived at the temple, wheezing and panting in the heat, we encountered what I can only describe as a Hindu pep rally. In spite of the sign that called for silence, people were singing and dancing and having a grand time. We were able to buy for 40 rupees (less than a dollar), a big bag of sweets and a "pilgrimage goodie bag" which included a couple bracelets, some bindis (stick-on forehead jewels for married women), makeup and fingernail polish and a comb, and some henna dye. You give the bag of sweets to the priest, who deposits a small amount under the neon lit idol, then gives you back the rest. Yummy!
Before leaving Pushkar, we took a quick camel trip out into the desert, past the stone carvers, and colorful sari-clad female construction workers carrying baskets of bricks on their head. For a few magical moments, my camera actually worked properly (every couple of days, it decides to tease me with 5 minutes or an hour of perfect functionality), so we got a good picture of us on camelback, I hope. We'll see how dependable Omar's camera skills are (yes, Omar was really our camel wrangler's name). I'd love to post some pictures, but we left all our CDs in the hotel when we came into the Old Town here in Udaipur. Soon I'll try to do a picture dump. There's so much to show you, but with slow internet connections picture uploading can be a hit-or-miss proposition.
After Pushkar, we headed to Jodhpur, the city those silly puffy riding pants are named for. I think Donna's doing the Jodhpur post right now, so I'll skip over it with this highly abbreviated version: blue city, big old red sandstone fort, giant wind out of desert, flying chair, sand in teeth, crazy market, yummy fried samosa street food for pennies, pigeon poop on shoulder which I am informed is very good luck. How's that for the whirlwind tour (appropriate given the rain and sandstorm!)?
Today, we drove from Jodhpur to Udaipur, stopping at a Jain temple (branch of Hinduism) that rivaled Angkor Wot for stone carving skill, though at just a tiny fraction of the size. The temple has more than 1000 ornately carved marble pillars, no two the same. It was built in the 15th Century, which makes you think how young our country is. You're allowed to take photos of the ornamentation, but not the idols. Sure enough, a group of Germans was caught taking pictures in the forbidden area and evicted from the temple. It seems so easy to respect the few rules and traditions, that it makes me angry when people choose not to.
On the way to Udaipur, we stopped to photograph a group of people pounding a big drum and singing. They were eager to be photographed, but wanted a few rupees in exchange. I try to carry a bunch of 10 rupee notes (about a quarter) to give to the many unfortunates we see. There's no welfare system here, so if you're aged, or handicapped, you're on your own. I started handing out 10 rupee notes to children who were saying "School, school" and before I knew it I was mobbed. I'm not sure where all the people came from. Beggars (and others) aren't afraid to touch and grab you. They were trying to snatch the money from my hand, and one little kid was unabashedly and unskillfully trying to pick my pocket. Fortunately, I was three steps from the car, and Donna was still inside. We got out of there with our rupees and dignity intact.
We've had interesting times with charity. We had a "priest" come up and give us an unsolicited blessing. I gave him ten or twenty rupees, but he wanted me to come over to the nearby street stand and buy him a great big satellite radio. Another elderly woman dragged me to the door of a shop and wanted me to buy her a 10-kilo bag of rice. You wish you could help everyone, but excessive generosity can get you in a lot of trouble, so a harsh "nai" is sometimes necessary.
Enough for now. Before it's get's dark, I want to walk to the lake and see if we can see any crocodiles. Wading is not on the agenda.
Cheers, Paul
Friday, March 9, 2007
Pushkar, India - expanded post
Pushkar -- it reminds me of my first auto, a breakdown-prone AMC Matador that was more often a push-car than a drive-car. I digress before I even get started.
Commenting on Donna's description of the flight from Bangkok, it included what was without doubt the scariest moment of the trip for me. Forget my battling vipers, petting tigers, being stepped on by an elephant -- the one thing that REALLY scares me is when I'm sitting in the exit row of an Air India 747 at 35,000 feet and the head steward says, "Sir, I need to speak with you," and furtively sneaks me into the galley and closes the curtain. I was sure he was going to ask for my help in subduing a problem passenger (or 8) or that he was going to tell me there was a mechanical problem and he'd like my help evacuating the smoldering wreckage. If you need help, get the 6'4", 250 pound guy in 18F. It was with no small amount of relief that I accepted the bag of 6 miniature boozes that he gave Donna and I as a gesture of the crew's appreciation for Donna's complimenting the meal.
"It was," he said, "very gratifying to receive the compliment. Perhaps you would put these in your carry-on bag and add them to your bar at home."
"It was," I thought, "very terrifying to receive the gesture of appreciation."
India...where to start? Delhi is crowded and schizophrenic, filthy and ancient. To be honest I didn't care much for it, though there are some really cool things to see. Our driver took us EVERYWHERE in Old and New Delhi, on an all day whirlwind tour. The overwhelming impression is squalor and filth, with even the nicest restaurant right next store to dirty little shops and intimidating alleys. With the exception of the parks at India Gate and Gandhi's Tomb, it's wall to wall people and poverty.
Today, we drove to Pushkar in Rajasthan, a northwestern State bordering Pakistan. It's a desert area, and the scenery evokes images of Afghanistan and the Tora Bora area where Bin Laden hid out after 9/11. The people look amazing. Many men wear colorful turbans and Kurta Pyjamas (loose gauzy long tunic with matching pants) but the women are decked out splendidly in bright gold-accented colors and headwear -- even when they're carrying bricks or giant bundles of sticks on their head or working in a road ditch or a field. The women do the field and road work. The men drive and run shops and who knows what else.
This city is a Hindu holy place, and a pilgrimage site. It's one of the only places to have a Shiva temple (Shiva is the Hindu God of Destruction). There's a small lake here in this desert which, legend has it, was formed when Krishna dropped a lotus flower on the desert. It's an interesting place. The city is vegetarian by law. No meat, not even eggs are eaten. There is no alcohol, and in some areas of town and in temples, you're required to remove your shoes. Not a big problem, except for the fact that there are many camels and cows, so careful stepping is important.
In a rather perverse twist on a beautiful holy tradition, it is customary to bless your family by dropping a flower into the lake. Nice...but...there are gangs of fake priests who try to hand you a flower. If you take it, they will aggressively extort money from you -- 1000 rupees or more (44 rupees = $1 US). Our driver (and the invaluable Lonely Planet guidebook) warned us about the flower scam. If you don't take the flower, it turns from smiling to ugly quickly. "Why are you afraid to take the flower? I'm not selling the flower? This is for your family!" So, allow me to apologize to you, my family, for not taking the flower. I hope you'll forgive me!
There are also many beggars, who can be uncomfortably persistent. They will touch you or gently grab your arm and follow you for blocks. We probably give more than we should, but only to the elderly or amputees or blind. If you're young and healthy and you can chase me down the street, I figure you can do something besides begging!
In spite of this, the market area is colorful and fascinating. I thought it was more fun than Donna, I think, but she'll have to speak for herself.
The best(?) time to come to Pushkar is in November, when there's a combo get-together: a Hindu holy day and a giant camel-trading fair at the same time. This city of 15,000 swells to more than 200,000 and there are more than 50,000 camels, painted and decorated and showing off. So, if you're up for some camel racing, this is your spot.
Donna and I are trying to learn a bit about Hinduism, but it's very complicated. Basically, Brahman is the one God, uncreated and eternal. Brahman is unseeable and unknowable, but has three main incarnation Gods: Brahma (creator), Shiva (destroyer) and Vishnu (life force). So far, so easy, but it gets tougher. Vishnu, for example has 22 different forms and names, and Brahma has something over 1000 names.
We love reading comments and "hi guys" from friends back home, so I've adjusted the blog settings so you don't have to sign in to post acomment. Just hit comment and you can write us a quick note, or you can always email us at psanto@tcq.net.
Cheers,
Paul
Commenting on Donna's description of the flight from Bangkok, it included what was without doubt the scariest moment of the trip for me. Forget my battling vipers, petting tigers, being stepped on by an elephant -- the one thing that REALLY scares me is when I'm sitting in the exit row of an Air India 747 at 35,000 feet and the head steward says, "Sir, I need to speak with you," and furtively sneaks me into the galley and closes the curtain. I was sure he was going to ask for my help in subduing a problem passenger (or 8) or that he was going to tell me there was a mechanical problem and he'd like my help evacuating the smoldering wreckage. If you need help, get the 6'4", 250 pound guy in 18F. It was with no small amount of relief that I accepted the bag of 6 miniature boozes that he gave Donna and I as a gesture of the crew's appreciation for Donna's complimenting the meal.
"It was," he said, "very gratifying to receive the compliment. Perhaps you would put these in your carry-on bag and add them to your bar at home."
"It was," I thought, "very terrifying to receive the gesture of appreciation."
India...where to start? Delhi is crowded and schizophrenic, filthy and ancient. To be honest I didn't care much for it, though there are some really cool things to see. Our driver took us EVERYWHERE in Old and New Delhi, on an all day whirlwind tour. The overwhelming impression is squalor and filth, with even the nicest restaurant right next store to dirty little shops and intimidating alleys. With the exception of the parks at India Gate and Gandhi's Tomb, it's wall to wall people and poverty.
Today, we drove to Pushkar in Rajasthan, a northwestern State bordering Pakistan. It's a desert area, and the scenery evokes images of Afghanistan and the Tora Bora area where Bin Laden hid out after 9/11. The people look amazing. Many men wear colorful turbans and Kurta Pyjamas (loose gauzy long tunic with matching pants) but the women are decked out splendidly in bright gold-accented colors and headwear -- even when they're carrying bricks or giant bundles of sticks on their head or working in a road ditch or a field. The women do the field and road work. The men drive and run shops and who knows what else.
This city is a Hindu holy place, and a pilgrimage site. It's one of the only places to have a Shiva temple (Shiva is the Hindu God of Destruction). There's a small lake here in this desert which, legend has it, was formed when Krishna dropped a lotus flower on the desert. It's an interesting place. The city is vegetarian by law. No meat, not even eggs are eaten. There is no alcohol, and in some areas of town and in temples, you're required to remove your shoes. Not a big problem, except for the fact that there are many camels and cows, so careful stepping is important.
In a rather perverse twist on a beautiful holy tradition, it is customary to bless your family by dropping a flower into the lake. Nice...but...there are gangs of fake priests who try to hand you a flower. If you take it, they will aggressively extort money from you -- 1000 rupees or more (44 rupees = $1 US). Our driver (and the invaluable Lonely Planet guidebook) warned us about the flower scam. If you don't take the flower, it turns from smiling to ugly quickly. "Why are you afraid to take the flower? I'm not selling the flower? This is for your family!" So, allow me to apologize to you, my family, for not taking the flower. I hope you'll forgive me!
There are also many beggars, who can be uncomfortably persistent. They will touch you or gently grab your arm and follow you for blocks. We probably give more than we should, but only to the elderly or amputees or blind. If you're young and healthy and you can chase me down the street, I figure you can do something besides begging!
In spite of this, the market area is colorful and fascinating. I thought it was more fun than Donna, I think, but she'll have to speak for herself.
The best(?) time to come to Pushkar is in November, when there's a combo get-together: a Hindu holy day and a giant camel-trading fair at the same time. This city of 15,000 swells to more than 200,000 and there are more than 50,000 camels, painted and decorated and showing off. So, if you're up for some camel racing, this is your spot.
Donna and I are trying to learn a bit about Hinduism, but it's very complicated. Basically, Brahman is the one God, uncreated and eternal. Brahman is unseeable and unknowable, but has three main incarnation Gods: Brahma (creator), Shiva (destroyer) and Vishnu (life force). So far, so easy, but it gets tougher. Vishnu, for example has 22 different forms and names, and Brahma has something over 1000 names.
We love reading comments and "hi guys" from friends back home, so I've adjusted the blog settings so you don't have to sign in to post acomment. Just hit comment and you can write us a quick note, or you can always email us at psanto@tcq.net.
Cheers,
Paul
Thursday, March 8, 2007
India Arrival
We knew we'd left Bangkok while boarding the Air India plane, seeing their flight attendants in elaborate saris among the scent of curry. Northwest Airlines is put to shame by the dinner feast and snacks. To top that off, we complimented the flight attendant on the dinner and he pulled Paul aside and gave us 5 teensy bottles of booze. Then we were really happy customers!
Whether we were smart or 'taken', we hired a driver and car for a week's trip in northern India starting with a city tour today. I'd say we're a little shell-shocked but here are a few immediate responses to this city of 13 million people:
We visited the Red Fort, Gandhi's (Mahatma) grave and an ancient tomb of some Humayaun guy, all in large park areas. There were hawks, parrots, and flowers blooming; much more green space than expected.
We didn't get into a car accident or see any crunches. It's a miracle. The lanes in the road mean nothing and horns honk constantly. Beeps aren't angry messages but a notification of "I'm here, move over for me." At any moment the road has a BMW or Ambassador car, a taxi, a tuk-tuk, a motor scooter, a bicycle rickshaw, a bicycle and a horse carrying cargo. And a truck. Except the driver said that all deliveries have to be made at night, otherwise 'problems'. Just being a passenger was stressful anticipating the sound of crunching fenders or bones.
The women's saris and long tunics with pants and a scarf blowing in the wind are more beautiful than the old forts and monuments.
In 24 hours, we haven't talked to any Indian women or seen any one working. This is going to be hard if this keeps up. Because it's International Women's Day, the newspaper has some stats: Indian women earn 1/4 of what men do (and Indian men's salaries can't be envied) and women's literacy rate is about 1/2 of men's.
Internet access isn't as common here so forgive a reduction in communication. Tomorrow we're going to Pushkar, a camel trading desert town. Need any more camels???
Whether we were smart or 'taken', we hired a driver and car for a week's trip in northern India starting with a city tour today. I'd say we're a little shell-shocked but here are a few immediate responses to this city of 13 million people:
We visited the Red Fort, Gandhi's (Mahatma) grave and an ancient tomb of some Humayaun guy, all in large park areas. There were hawks, parrots, and flowers blooming; much more green space than expected.
We didn't get into a car accident or see any crunches. It's a miracle. The lanes in the road mean nothing and horns honk constantly. Beeps aren't angry messages but a notification of "I'm here, move over for me." At any moment the road has a BMW or Ambassador car, a taxi, a tuk-tuk, a motor scooter, a bicycle rickshaw, a bicycle and a horse carrying cargo. And a truck. Except the driver said that all deliveries have to be made at night, otherwise 'problems'. Just being a passenger was stressful anticipating the sound of crunching fenders or bones.
The women's saris and long tunics with pants and a scarf blowing in the wind are more beautiful than the old forts and monuments.
In 24 hours, we haven't talked to any Indian women or seen any one working. This is going to be hard if this keeps up. Because it's International Women's Day, the newspaper has some stats: Indian women earn 1/4 of what men do (and Indian men's salaries can't be envied) and women's literacy rate is about 1/2 of men's.
Internet access isn't as common here so forgive a reduction in communication. Tomorrow we're going to Pushkar, a camel trading desert town. Need any more camels???
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Proof that Paul's not the only crazy one in the family
Didn't want to leave Donna out of the discussions of sanity back home...so here's proof that she's as foolish as me...or at least was for one shining moment.It was so fun to interact with these cats, and while they're still wild animals, they're also kind of like big kitties.
They only do tiger petting between 1 and 4 p.m. when the cats are at their laziest and least "playful."
In spite of the sign that says "tourists eaten this week -- 7" there haven't been any tourist injuries, though a number of the handlers have been hurt. There are a bunch of tigers in the canyon, and if one is active, they don't let you near it. They also keep a handler between you and the tigers and literally lead you around holding your hand as you visit one tiger after another.
Let me tell you, those are some great big paws, and it's possible for a tiger to break your neck just cuffing you in the head. Of course, as you can see, there are also teeth to be considered. You might be able to tell from the picture, as Donna is petting this male, he couldn't reach her with his head.
Almost as much fun as tiger-petting was wild animal feeding time. Water buffalos and cows and horses and hundreds of little wild pigs (peccaries?) came to eat the pelleted food and turnips(?) that were thrown out on the road. If you want to see pictures, you'll have to come to the slide show at our house when we return home.
Cheers,
Paul of the jungle and Donna the tiger-hearted
Tiger petting in Thailand
What would you do if it was your last full day in Thailand? How about a little tiger-petting. We had a full day of touring, from a palm-sugar manufacturing tourist trap to a WWII memorial cemetery for POWs who died building the infamous Thai-Burma railway, to the Bridge over the River Kwai (the real one, not the movie), to a famous floating market, to the Tiger Temple.Tomorrow, we're on to India.
I had a rough last day on Koh Tao island before heading back to Bangkok yesterday. I threw my back out and had a full day of virtual immobility. Fortunately, I talked Donna into going ahead with her snorkeling trip, so she wasn't around to hear my whimpering. I've rallied well, thanks to some 3M muscle relaxant that's prescription in the States, but ask-and-you-will-receive easily available here. A two day supply was like three dollars. It would probably cost $300 at home, not counting the doctor bill.
Here's some of what I'll miss about Thailand:
-- Guys driving the wrong way down the median or shoulder of a six-lane divided highway.
-- The cicadas that all start their electronic door buzzer sound the instant the sun drops below the horizon, then quit in unison about ten minutes later.
-- The chirps, buzzes, squeaks, whistles, chortles, creaky door hinge noises and raucous bird laughter that come from the jungle at night.
-- Spicy food that makes beads of sweat appear on your forehead.
-- Underwater amazement.
-- Elephants, tigers, snakes and other beasties you just don't see and touch in Minnesota.
Next post from India.
Cheers,
Paul
Friday, March 2, 2007
Beach Bums
Dear All,
The above-water world in the Gulf of Thailand is beautiful, too, like the underwater world Paul wrote about. This tropical beach is sweetly lit up at sundown with lanterns, imagination and amusing dogs.
Twinkly lights dangle from trees and poles and palm fronds are planted into the sand for the night. Pop-bottles (Yes, Coke still comes in a bottle!) filled with kerosene and a cloth wick become endless torches of light seeded into the center of holes in the sand. Some holes are molded into flower shapes or a windbreak. If the tide is out, restaurants that are literally on the water add rows of tables and chairs. If the tide is in, diners have their food with a complimentary ocean foot wash. Exotic.
At sunset soccer teams take advantage of the expanded playing field on the beach (the tide was out) while roaming dogs become more than team mascots. Last night's most-valuable-player award would have gone to the mid-sized mut that agressively chased the ball. We're not sure which team he was playing for but no one gave him any mind or any kicks.... Is that Thai-nice? Other canine beach bums bark at the fish they are stalking in knee-deep water. The dogs don't want to eat the fish but are defending their territory.
If you can stay up late, the fire-dancers do a show. But you know that's not my strong suit. :)
Love you.
Donna
The above-water world in the Gulf of Thailand is beautiful, too, like the underwater world Paul wrote about. This tropical beach is sweetly lit up at sundown with lanterns, imagination and amusing dogs.
Twinkly lights dangle from trees and poles and palm fronds are planted into the sand for the night. Pop-bottles (Yes, Coke still comes in a bottle!) filled with kerosene and a cloth wick become endless torches of light seeded into the center of holes in the sand. Some holes are molded into flower shapes or a windbreak. If the tide is out, restaurants that are literally on the water add rows of tables and chairs. If the tide is in, diners have their food with a complimentary ocean foot wash. Exotic.
At sunset soccer teams take advantage of the expanded playing field on the beach (the tide was out) while roaming dogs become more than team mascots. Last night's most-valuable-player award would have gone to the mid-sized mut that agressively chased the ball. We're not sure which team he was playing for but no one gave him any mind or any kicks.... Is that Thai-nice? Other canine beach bums bark at the fish they are stalking in knee-deep water. The dogs don't want to eat the fish but are defending their territory.
If you can stay up late, the fire-dancers do a show. But you know that's not my strong suit. :)
Love you.
Donna
Hey Anna - new favorite Thai phrase
Anna, you asked about our favorite phrase. I found out yesterday that fried rice with crab meat has an interesting name. Since Thai has its own alphabet, anglicized spellings vary wildly, but this popular dish is usually spelled something like this: "kiaw phat phu." That's pronounced "cow pat poo." Of course, to be polite, a male speaker would end any sentence with "khrap" which makes it "cow pat poo crap".
Hmmmm. Wonder why that dish doesn't sell well at Thai restaurants?
Today, Donna and I went snorkeling around Koh Tao. One place we stopped was "Shark Bay" where we saw loads of black tip sharks, with the biggest around six feet or so. Donna, with her improvised prescription snorkel mask (an old eyeglass lens siliconed onto the mask) saw fewer. I think it was a bit frustrating for her. I'd hold up 3 fingers and point at the three sharks and she'd not see them. She has to have her mask pointed directly at them to see well, and the water here isn't as clear as at Ko Lanta on the Andaman Sea side of Thailand. One of the sharks followed her up to the surface and trailed about 8 feet behind her, but generally they were quite shy. We spent more time chasing them than they did chasing us.
We bought a cheapo underwater camera. When we've finished it off and gotten pictures developed we'll post a shark pic.
My camera continues to misbehave, though it inexplicably fixed itself for about 10 minutes before going bad again. Perhaps I can get it repaired in Bangkok before we head to India.
Our Thailand time is winding down quickly. I'll be sad to leave, but we're looking forward to the adventures ahead.
Cheers.
Paul
Hmmmm. Wonder why that dish doesn't sell well at Thai restaurants?
Today, Donna and I went snorkeling around Koh Tao. One place we stopped was "Shark Bay" where we saw loads of black tip sharks, with the biggest around six feet or so. Donna, with her improvised prescription snorkel mask (an old eyeglass lens siliconed onto the mask) saw fewer. I think it was a bit frustrating for her. I'd hold up 3 fingers and point at the three sharks and she'd not see them. She has to have her mask pointed directly at them to see well, and the water here isn't as clear as at Ko Lanta on the Andaman Sea side of Thailand. One of the sharks followed her up to the surface and trailed about 8 feet behind her, but generally they were quite shy. We spent more time chasing them than they did chasing us.
We bought a cheapo underwater camera. When we've finished it off and gotten pictures developed we'll post a shark pic.
My camera continues to misbehave, though it inexplicably fixed itself for about 10 minutes before going bad again. Perhaps I can get it repaired in Bangkok before we head to India.
Our Thailand time is winding down quickly. I'll be sad to leave, but we're looking forward to the adventures ahead.
Cheers.
Paul
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