Category Archives: On the Road

Kathmandu – Ladies weekend!

May 12, 2013 Sharon Leave a comment

As the school year winds down, international teachers say a lot of farewells. Many of our friends and colleagues will depart for new adventures, and it’s hard to say good-bye. So we procrastinate. We drag it out. We have parties and dinners and weekend get-aways to stall the inevitable. In that spirit, a group of us took off for Kathmandu, Nepal, the last weekend in April to celebrate two ladies who will leave Delhi at the end of the school year – Katrina and Shannon.

In case you didn’t know, Nepal is the only country with a flag that is NOT a rectangle:

An early morning flight on Friday got us to the Kathmandu Guest House before lunch. I’ve actually outgrown guest houses, but this one came recommended, looked good online and, hey, it was good enough for the Beatles in 1968. As we settled in among the throngs of backpackers and trekkers, we realized the website may have exaggerated a bit. I awoke early each day to sip coffee and read my book in the guesthouse’s peaceful courtyard cafe, which was full of flowers and fountains. Outside the gate, however, the narrow streets clogged with tourists and traffic.

Inside the Kathmandu Guesthouse gate
(Photo by Katrina)

There were several of these statues with monkeys clinging to their wieners. I’m sure there must be a reason for it, but my research has yielded nada.

Outside the Kathmandu Guest House gate
(photo by Tammy)

(3 photos by Katrina)

Bhaktapur – UNESCO World Heritage Site
(Everything that sounds factual in this section comes from the book Discovering Bhaktapur – A Guide to the Historic Newar City, which I found in pdf form online. So interesting! Now that I’ve read up on this place, I need to return and see everything I missed.)

Saturday morning, we took a car about 20 kilometers to the ancient town of Bhaktapur, which was one of three independent kingdoms in the Kathmandu Valley about 300 years ago. The city declined after unification in the late 1700s, and a massive earthquake in 1934 damaged or destroyed most homes and temples. Germany was instrumental in helping rebuild and revitalize Bhaktapur through a major project that tackled restoration of historic and religious monuments, the water and sewer infrastructure, health education, land development and housing, schools and more through the late 1980s. The rise in tourism has also renewed interest in conserving its unique culture, architecture and handicrafts.

At the entrance to Bhaktapur, we bought a ticket and hired a guide, Shyam.

Pausing so Shyam can tell us about Durbar Square.

Shyam stands at the Golden Gate, the entrance to the religious areas of the royal palace.

He explains that some of the wood carvings are original and others were created during the restoration.

Only Hindus were allowed into Mul Chowk, home of the most holy temple of Taleju, the goddess worshipped by the royal family. We could, however, visit Naga Pokhari, a royal bath guarded by the gilded snake god Vasuki. I climbed down to check out the strange water spout. According to my book, such taps are typical of the era.

The spout itself is usually in the form of a makara, a mythical water creature that seems like a cross between a crocodile and an elephant. It is the vehicle of the water god Varuna. It often has a fish emerging from its mouth.

This one had a goat emerging from its mouth and a web-footed rat-like thing on its back.

Facing the Golden Gate is the king who built it, Bhupatindra Malla (1696-1722), sitting atop a tall pillar. The statue was constructed in 1753 by his son, the last king of Bhaktapur.

The Yaksheswar Mahadev Temple, dedicated to Shiva and dating back to the 1450s, features many erotic woodcarvings. Shyam said they represent the 24 sexual positions guaranteed to produce a son. “I know in Europe they have more than 24 positions, but here we have only 24,” he said with a laugh. My handy book says the carvings are actually associated with religious tantric cults of that time.

This whimsical little temple is dedicated to Siddhilaxmi, the goddess of success. My book says,

It has a delightful series of figures guarding its steps: a couple of chained rhinos (suggesting that the Mallas perhaps kept a menagerie), a pair of camels and what appears to be two naughty boys refusing to accompany their mothers.

Another little temple.

The Nyatapola Temple is the 30 meter-high pagoda in Taumadi Square. More from my book:

It’s thought to be dedicated to the beautiful goddess Siddhilaxmi and only special Taleju priests are allowed secret access to the inner sanctum. Nobody else worships there. It was built on the orders of Bhupatindra Malla in 1702. It is said that he set a fine example by carrying the first three bricks on his shoulder. This so inspired the population that all the remaining materials were brought up in the following five days. … Guarding the temple are ten mighty figures. At the bottom are two local wrestling champions called Jayamala and Patta. Next up, ten times stronger, are a pair of elephants. Then two lions, two griffins (sarduls) and two deities, Singhini and Byanghini. Each is ten times stronger than the pair below.

View from the top.

According to Shyam, this “vehicle” plays an exciting part in a big religious festival, sort of a tug-of-war thing to carry an image of the god Bhairav to meet up with the goddess Bhadrakali for a fertility ritual.

My book says those rickety wheels inevitably crush raucous festival-goers.

Shyam led us through a rabbit warren of alleys, where we witnessed the daily rituals of life: ladies drawing water from the wells, grannies minding toddlers and goats, workers hauling loads of timber and bricks, craftsmen carving wood and throwing pots, old men bent over a card table, children kicking around a ball or rolling a tire, vendors selling a little bit of everything. Here’s an interesting tidbit from my book:

The ancient route from Delhi and Kathmandu to Lhasa and Beijing went through Bhaktapur. A steady trade was maintained in salt, wool, gold dust, copper, medicinal herbs, spices and yak tails (used as royal fly whisks). Probably not much silk though. This trade peaked in the early 18th century and then declined after the national unification in 1767. A community of Newari traders has remained in Lhasa to import Nepali goods up to the present time.

“Weighing” chickens for sale.

The famous Peacock Window.

During our tour of Bhaktapur, Shyam took us to the Lama Thanka Painting School. We learned about the Dalai Lama’s sand mandala design.

According to the Namgyal Monastery Institute of Buddhist Studies,

Sand mandalas are one of the most magnificent types of mandala construction and are associated with the most profound and elaborate Buddhist ceremonies in Tibet. Every color, dot, and line in the mandala represents an essential part of the deity and Buddhist philosophy. Each component must be placed in exactly the same place every time the mandala is constructed.
Although sand mandalas are made on a flat surface they are, to the devout, a three dimensional palace, representing the mind of the Buddha. The person contemplating the mandala enters into it, as they would a building or an enclosure.
The mandala construction itself is the result of long and disciplined effort, but it is nonetheless a temporary work. When the monks are finished, there is a dissolution ceremony where the deity is released by the dismantling of the mandala. The sand is cast into a body of water to emphasize and highlight the impermanence of all things and the importance of nonattachment. When the sand enters the water, the kindness and compassion of the deity are disseminated into the world to benefit all beings.

Then, of course, we started looking at paintings by students and masters, and then, of course, we couldn’t resist buying some. They really are stunning. Mine features a favorite mantra of compassion – om mani padme hum – painted in gold gajillions of times in concentric circles.

We had a fascinating day with Shyam.

Before leaving Bhaktapur, we ate lunch at the redundantly named Cafe de Traditional Restaurant. I’m not sure what we ate, but I assure you it was delicious!

The best part was dessert: King’s Curd, a sweet scrumptious yogurty treat. Katrina took this shot of me loving my King’s Curd.

This little girl watched us eat. Katrina’s pic.

These guys were our waiters.

Back in Thamel, the backpacker part of Kathmandu, we popped into a Mexican restaurant for margaritas. I hung my camera, purse and bag of bananas on the back of my chair. (That detail will become important later.) We enjoyed a little siesta and then took off for a spectacular French dinner at Chez Caroline. Yes, before we left Kathmandu, we had devoured Italian, Mexican, French and Nepalese cuisine, including more than our fair share of momos.

In the morning, I wandered down to the courtyard for coffee but felt like something was amiss, you know, that feeling you get just after shutting the front door and realizing you don’t have your keys? I read my book for awhile, uneasy but unable to figure out why. Finally, I realized I hadn’t seen my camera that morning. I knew I had taken it to the Mexican restaurant, but I couldn’t remember having it after that. I wandered over to the restaurant and shook the metal grate over the door until a cleaning lady popped her head out the window. She came downstairs and let me in to search. No luck. One of the waiters shook his head. There were really only two possibilities: Another diner stole it or a staff member found it.

The camera had been an expensive Christmas present to myself (although Tony technically made the amazon.com purchase and put it under the tree). I was already mourning the loss, but even more, I was kicking myself for losing all the photos from this trip. Back at the guesthouse, Katrina wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in bed while the rest of us headed out on another excursion.

Bouddhanath Stupa
The Bouddhanath Stupa, first built in the 14th century, is one of the holiest Buddhist sites in Nepal and one of the largest stupas in the world. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1979. As usual, one of my favorite travel websites – Sacred Destinations – has an excellent write-up about the stupa.

From above, Bodnath Stupa looks like a giant mandala, or diagram of the Buddhist cosmos. And as in all Tibetan mandalas, four of the Dhyani Buddhas mark the cardinal points, with the fifth, Vairocana, enshrined in the center (in the white hemisphere of the stupa). The five Buddhas also personify the five elements (earth, water, fire, air and ether), which are represented in the stupa’s architecture.
There are other symbolic numbers here as well: the nine levels of Boudhanath Stupa represent the mythical Mt. Meru, center of the cosmos; and the 13 rings from the base to the pinnacle symbolize the path to enlightenment, or “Bodhi” — hence the stupa’s name.
At the bottom, the stupa is surrounded by an irregular 16-sided wall, with frescoes in the niches. In addition to the Five Dhyani Buddhas, Boudhanath Stupa is closely associated with the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara (Padmapani), whose 108 forms are depicted in sculptures around the base. The mantra of Avalokiteshvara – Om Mani Padme Hum – is carved on the prayer wheels beside the images of Avalokiteshvara around the base of the stupa.
The base of the stupa consists of three large platforms, decreasing in size. These platforms symbolize Earth, and here you can look out at the mountains while listening to the chants of the devout doing kora, walking around the stupa praying.
Next come two circular plinths supporting the hemisphere of the stupa, symbolizing water. As at Swayabunath, Bodnath is topped with a square tower bearing the omnipresent Buddha eyes on all four sides.
Instead of a nose is a question-mark-type symbol that is actually the Nepali character for the number 1, symbolizing unity and the one way to reach enlightenment—through the Buddha’s teachings. Above this is the third eye, symbolizing the wisdom of the Buddha.
The square tower is topped by a pyramid with 13 steps, representing the ladder to enlightenment. The triangular shape is the abstract form for the element of fire. At the top of the tower is a gilded canopy, the embodiment of air, with above it a gilded spire, symbolic of ether and the Buddha Vairocana. Prayer flags tied to the stupa flutter in the wind, carrying mantras and prayers heavenward.
The main entrance to the upper platform of Bodnath Stupa is on the north side. Here Amoghasiddhi, progenitor of the future Buddha, presides. Below Amoghasiddhi is the Buddha Maitreya, the future Buddha.
Surrounding Boudhanath Stupa are streets and narrow alleys lined with colorful homes, Tibetan Buddhist monasteries, and street vendors.

Buddhism is my go-to religion in times of strife. I like the mantras, the rituals, the karma. So I decided to follow the pilgrims on the circumambulatory path, turning every one of the prayer wheels while chanting the mantra adorning each one: om mani padme hum.

All of us gave a donation to a monk at the stupa in exchange for a blessing. The monk wrote the mantra on paper, folded it, wrapped it in colored thread and then blessed it.
(Photo by Tammy)

We climbed up to a rooftop cafe for a quiet break (and a good view of what seemed to be the filming of a cheesy music video) before heading back to our guesthouse.
(Photo by Tammy)

Well, I don’t know if it was the prayer wheels, the monk’s mantra necklace, Katrina’s rise from her sickbed to give the stink-eye to the workers at the Mexican restaurant or just dumb luck, but when we got back to Thamel, I ran up the stairs to the restaurant and the bartender said, “We found your camera! We already returned it to your guesthouse!” All’s well that ends well.

And that’s the end. We packed a LOT into a short girls get-away. Ladies, I’m gonna miss you!

On the Road

O, Man! Forensics and fun in Muscat

May 11, 2013 Sharon 1 Comment

Forensics – Not just for dead people.
That’s the slogan on the back of our team T-shirts.
As one of the MESAC Forensics Team coaches, I heard a lot of surprised exclamations such as, “Wow! You guys do forensics? I didn’t know you were trained in that!” Sigh … It’s not “forensic science” à la CSI. It’s forensics à la Socrates. In other words, the students compete in debate, public speaking and dramatic interpretation of monologues or duet scenes.

According to the American Forensic Association,

“Forensics” is a word rooted in the Western world’s classical experience. The Greeks organized contests for speakers that developed and recognized the abilities their society felt central to democracy. These exercises acquired the title “forensics,” derived from the Latin term “forensis” and closely related to forum. Because the training in this skill of public advocacy, including the development of evidence, found one of its important venues in the law courts, the term “forensic” has also become associated with the art and science of legal evidence and argument.

Our school is a member of MESAC (Middle East South Asia Conference), which also includes schools from Oman, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar. As one of four American Embassy School coaches (a fifth stayed behind in India), I traveled with 20 amazing high-schoolers to represent AES at the 2013 MESAC Forensics Tournament, April 17-21 in Muscat, Oman.

The American-British Academy (ABA) played host.

Our fledgling forensics program fielded a debate team for the first time, and this was only the second year we participated in acting and speaking events. Nevertheless:
* Two of the debaters beat last year’s winners to earn a bronze medal.
* We sent 12 students to the finals.
* Seven kids came home with medals.
* AES placed second overall.

This is what we liked to see! Lots of “AES” on the results posters.

We adults felt excited for the medalists, but our greatest fulfillment came from watching the growth that occurred over the course of our season. This is a unique team in that students have an opportunity to express themselves in ways that take them far out of their comfort zone. For the oratory event, they wrote, memorized and presented powerful speeches calling for action. Our students addressed mental health in children, women’s rights in India, care of HIV/AIDS patients, Asian stereotypes and parental pressure for perfection. They spoke from the heart, revealing their deepest fears and biggest aspirations.

We may have seen the greatest transformation in our students competing in oral interpretation. They chose challenging pieces of literature to read, and some of the English learners required line-by-line explanations of the meaning before they could start interpreting. They worked so hard, begging for extra coaching time, meeting on weekends, shedding their inhibitions. When one of our 10th-graders took the stage to read “The Orange” by Joyce Carol Oates, she gave it everything she had, leaving the audience disarmed but in awe. Our only senior had brilliantly edited down a scene from “‘Night, Mother” and read the lines for both characters. Her subtle sophisticated performance tricked my mind into thinking there really were two people on stage and her last line forced a catch in my throat as I fought back tears.

There were so many success stories … not a slacker in the bunch. In addition to their work, our kids were kind, friendly and outgoing. They bonded with students from other schools and demonstrated admirable sportsmanship. So proud of them all! I feel incredibly fortunate to work at a school with this caliber of young people.

First day of the tournament at ABA … waiting in the auditorium.

My good friend Jacqueline, who taught with us in Turkey, now works at The American International School of Muscat. I was hoping to meet up with her during our visit, but the tournament schedule was grueling. Imagine my excitement when she showed up at the ABA coaches lounge! She hung out with us at the school a few times and then surprised me with a ticket to see “Madame Butterfly” at the Royal Opera House. I almost declined, exhausted from a lingering cold and the intensity of the tournament, but I couldn’t resist the lure of a cultural event paired with some Jacq time. The two-year-old Opera House was stunning inside and out. In fact, I may have appreciated the venue even more than the show!

So much elegance.

I NEED one of these lamps.

Jacqueline and me. (I’m the one who looks less like a posh opera-goer and more like a worn-out teacher at the end of a long day.)

Here’s a cool promotional video from the Royal Opera House website:

Our only other foray into Muscat was a traffic-y bus ride with all the kids and coaches to a souk, a fun market with Omani souvenirs and crafts. We spent about 30 minutes poking around before heading back to our hotel. Students stayed with ABA families, so coaches enjoyed a little downtime. In fact, one of the other coaches had issued a challenge: Which coach could find the best souvenir for one riyal (about $3)? Back at the hotel, the coaches met to compare souvenirs. The AES coaches nailed it. We had purchased a bizarre plastic pull-string toy featuring a Barbie-ish doll riding a sort of bicycle rickshaw with a green alien-ish baby and a rotating umbrella. We turned it into a trophy and gave it temporarily to our MVP. (I’ll post a photo when we get it back.)

On the Road

Spring Break – Maldives Diary

April 2, 2013 Sharon 2 Comments

Spring Break! Off to the Maldives – a garland of islands in the Indian Ocean off the southern tip of India. Woo hoo!

According to Visit Maldives:

The Maldives lies in two rows of atolls in the Indian Ocean, just across the equator. The country is made up of 1,190 coral islands formed around 26 natural ring-like atolls, spread over 90,000 square kilometers. These atolls structures are formed upon a sharp ridge rising from the ocean, making way for their secluded uniqueness.

Sunday, March 24
Air India recently cancelled our short flight to the Maldives via Colombo, Sri Lanka. We felt lucky the savvy travel experts of Sun Tours had our backs and rebooked us on another flight. It’s probably a good thing I was too busy to process the new schedule. On paper, it seemed OK: Delhi to Kochin (southern India). Kochin to Male (capital of the Maldives). Seaplane to our resort in the Lhaviyani Atoll.

Here’s how it really played out: We left for the airport at 4:30 a.m. About half way into our “direct flight” to Kochin, the flight attendants made the stow-everything-and-get-ready-to-land announcement. After panicking momentarily that we had boarded the wrong plane, we soon realized we had been duped by the “fake direct flight” ploy. Grrr… uncool, Spice Jet. We dropped off about half the passengers in Hyderbad, stayed on board while the crew cleaned the plane, and then waited for the new group to board. Eventually, we reached Kochin and caught our connection to Male, where we traveled by seaplane to the Kuredu Resort (after a quick stop at another resort). We finally reached paradise after 13 hours and FIVE separate flights.

Our first seaplane ride ever!

View from the seaplane.

Unloading at our island.

And now I’ll stop whining and start gushing … this place was fabulous! We came here at the recommendation of my brother and his wife, who vacationed on this island last year. Kuredu Resort has the whole island to itself. For six glorious days, Tony and I were living large in a beachfront villa overlooking the Indian Ocean. See?

By the time we arrived and checked in, we barely had time for dinner before crashing for the night.

Monday, March 25
A compulsory informational meeting gobbled up much of our morning. We bought a power adaptor, signed up for a few excursions, and did a little exploring around the island.

At 2:30, we joined about 12 others for a snorkeling boat trip. Our guide, Greg, was from South Africa, but we and he were the only native English speakers. His onboard presentation about the snorkeling site was quite funny as he tried to make himself understood. Surely the Europeans spoke enough English to get the gist, but he kept miming ridiculous concepts like “brain coral.” Our favorite line was when he asked, “How do you say snorkel in German?” The Germans replied in unison: “Schnorkel.” Ha! Now Tony and I cannot stop saying, “Do you vant to schnorkel?”

Oh, snorkeling was super fun. We swam around two different sites teeming with fish and took a few mostly lame photos with a borrowed underwater camera.

That evening, we were back on a boat for the complimentary sunset cruise. About 30 people sat stiffly on the benches of a dive boat, and I was beginning to wonder whether this was really worth our time. After motoring around for half an hour, the crew began shouting and clapping. Dolphins! They seemed to respond to the cheers, swimming right alongside our boat and leaping into the air. One baby dolphin repeatedly jumped out of the water and spun around like a corkscrew. Their playful demonstration had us all laughing and cheering. One of the crewmen pulled me to the front of the boat, so I sat on the deck with one foot in the water, getting soaked by the waves but loving every moment.

The boat crew looks for dolphins.

Jackpot!

Tuesday, March 26
My favorite way to start the day here was sitting on this porch bed with a strong cup of coffee (Nespresso machine in our villa!), cherishing the salty air, rolling surf, gentle breezes clicking the palm fronds together, and the sea’s gradual transition from clear cerulean at the shore to turquoise to jade and ultimately nearly black as it drops off the horizon.

But enough with the poetic ruminations… there was no time to sit around trying to name the exact color of the water. I decided I wanted to walk the perimeter of the island today, so that’s what we did. Kuredu is part of the Lhaviyani Atoll, created gajillions of years ago when a volcano erupted. The volcano’s crater now forms the center of the atoll – a relatively shallow and calm lagoon with sloping reefs – ringed by small islands. That means one side of Kuredu faces the atoll’s interior, while the other side faces the open sea. Our walk revealed interesting differences on the two sides of the island – coarser sand, broken coral, crashing waves, and refreshing winds on the Indian Ocean-facing side (where our villa was located) and babypowder sand with gently lapping waves and no breeze on the interior-facing side. At one point, we peeled off our cover-ups and left them inside my sunhat on the sand while we walked, waded and eventually swam from a long skinny sandbar cutting through perfectly clear water. The strong current seemed to deter most fish, but we did see a small black-tipped reef shark. It felt like a Disney moment. You know that blue water in the Splash Mountain log ride? This water was THAT blue. How is that possible?

By the time we fully circumnavigated the island, we were exhausted. After a nap, a dip in the pool, a quick snorkel outside our villa, lunch, a visit to one of the wifi hotspots (which was not so “hot” of a spot as it lost power after a few minutes), we decided to go for another swim in the pool created by concrete pylons a short distance offshore in front of our villa. However, the low tide left little water for swimming. Instead, we donned a scuba mask, sat on the sandy bottom and bent over the rocks and dead coral to observe the tidepool ecosystem. Tiny technicolor fish, hermit crabs, eels and sea slugs seemed unconcerned about the receding tide. I guess they knew it would be back again soon.

Low tide. That’s me standing out by the concrete pylons.

High tide. Hundreds of crabs crawl onto the pylons and hang on for dear life.

With set meal times at one of the three restaurants, we built our day around food, and then – like the street cows of New Delhi – we paraded en masse to the next feeding. Breakfast and lunch featured standard buffet fare, but the dinners raised the bar with culinary themes. Tonight’s “Arabian” seafood kebabs ranked among my favorite meals in recent memory.

The “O Resort” restaurant.

Tony photobombing my pic of this cool bird.

Wednesday, March 27
Because we hadn’t gone scuba diving in two years, we decided to refresh our skills with a scuba orientation class. Our instructor, Sebastjan, introduced us to the Prodivers dive center and the island’s “house reef,” a vibrant coral reef literally a short jump off the end of the jetty. It was our first time diving in water warm enough to ditch the wetsuit. (around 30C; 86F. Perfect!) We carried all our gear to the end of the pier (except for the tanks which arrived via wheelbarrow). I had a little trouble with a hissing inflator on my vest, so Sebastjan had to run back to the dive shop and switch it out for a new one. Once in the water, we went over a few basic skills: flooding and clearing your mask (I am an EXPERT at this because my upside-down-lightbulb-shaped face makes every mask leak…), losing your regulator (the oxygen source), and running out of air and using your dive buddy’s “octopus” (the extra regulator everyone carries).

Getting ready to dive. A man cut in front of me to steal the pink tank, but I got a funky orange one. Why does that matter? I don’t know, but it does.

After ensuring we knew the basics, Sebastjan led us on an hourlong dive. We cruised along next to a nice coral reef and visited a boat wreck. Highlights: a sea turtle, puffer fish, a school of about 20 huge translucent orange-and-white angel fish, tons of geeky looking pointy-nosed unicorn fish, and zillions of colors darting in and out of the coral. One of the most amazing experiences on earth has to be floating silently into a huge crowd of ambivalent rainbow fish who make space but otherwise ignore your presence.

We loved this dive so much that we signed up for an afternoon boat ride to another dive site: Tinga Giri. It took just 10 minutes to get there, and it was such a treat not to wrestle into a wetsuit on a rocking boat. We just attached our BCDs to our tanks, slipped on our fins and masks and jumped in. This was another gorgeous coral reef with brilliant diversity. At one point, a huge tuna swam by. I thought it was a dolphin at first and I nearly hyperventilated with joy.

I had borrowed a mask from the dive shop to testdrive it before buying, and it worked beautifully! Sucked right on to my mutant face and didn’t leak a bit. It fogged up repeatedly, though, so good thing I’m a pro at taking off and cleaning my mask underwater. Later, we got some great tips from the divemasters: coat your mask with toothpaste overnight and don’t wear any sunscreen on your face. What?! I didn’t try the toothpaste, but the sunscreen advice made a huge difference. Who knew creams caused mask fog? Geez.

Thursday, March 28
Lazy breakfast.
Eventually, we headed to the dive shop to rent snorkel gear, and I turned in my borrowed mask and bought a new one. We walked out to the pier and hopped in the water for a snorkel on the house reef. My new mask leaked like crazy! So frustrating. It was the same exact model as the one that worked so well yesterday. I tried adjusting the straps a million times. If I let it fill about half way, I could still sort of see. Aaarrgghhh!

We did spot a turtle munching grass on the sea floor. She swam right at my face when she came up for air; I actually had to move out of her way.

Back in the room, we rinsed the mask and discovered it had a piece of plastic missing, which caused the leak. After lunch, we took the leaky mask back to the shop, and they exchanged it for a new one. We repeated our morning snorkel with much more success in the mask department. Overall today we saw three sea turtles (although Tony thinks the one I spotted was the same one we had seen earlier). Several massive buck-toothed parrotfish chewing on the coral kind of freaked me out, but like all the other intimidating sealife, they left us well enough alone. (Photo from cruisemaldives.travel.)

Another ubiquitous underwater attraction is the schooling of hundreds of fish into a blob that appears, from a distance, to be one enormous sea creature. I was fooled more than once, and believe me your stomach flips over when that happens.
We saw schools like this one many times. (Photo from US News Travel.)

Friday, March 29
We snorkeled the house reef again and saw a huge turtle! Tony chased a ginormous black fish – a grouper, maybe? – which kept just out of reach with a quick flick of its tail. We also found three lionfishes like this one in a little coral cave. (Photo from Travel For Passion website.) Pretty, but venomous, so we didn’t linger.

While I’m a strictly stick-to-the-surface snorkeler, Tony bravely held his breath and dove to explore the depths, including the tip of the boat wreck.

Later, we walked out to the barely visible sandbar at high tide. It was obvious how the sandbar was formed; waves crashed onto it from both sides. We struggled to stay upright, unstable on the soft sand with the surf pounding our shins, but we looked rather Biblical, as if we were walking on water. After trudging quite a ways out into the sea, we wondered whether the sandbar ever disappeared completely when the tide got very high. Just in case, we quickly paddle-sprinted back to shore.

For our last dinner at Kuredu, our waiter, Shareef, had set a fancy table for us with flowers and sand stencils of a turtle, dolphin and letters spelling out “See you soon.”
Bittersweet.

Windy evening.

Every night after dinner, we sat outside at the seaside bar, sipping drinks and staring at the underwater floodlights for passing sharks and big fish. Night after night, we watched between one and four large fish circle one of the lights repeatedly, hypnotically, breaking stride only when a reef shark or another unwelcome visitor approached.

Saturday, March 30
We were sad to say good-bye to our utopian island, but it was time for the long journey home. Even though Spice Jet tricked us with its pretend “direct flight,” we have to give them kudos for being on time or early each leg of the trip. We left Kuredu around 11 a.m. and got home shortly after midnight.

Have I piqued your interest in the Maldives? Check out the Visit Maldives website for more facts, photos and awesomeness.

On the Road

Amster…DAM, we loved it!

January 26, 2013 Sharon 3 Comments

Before returning to New Delhi after our Michigan Christmas, Tony and I spent a week playing in Amsterdam. Our hotel room wasn’t ready at our pre-dawn arrival, so we took the first of many walks around the city’s gorgeous neighborhoods, groggily watching the sunrise reflected in canal house windows.

At Hotel Misc, our room overlooked the canal leading to Neiumarkt and Dam Square on the left and the Amstel River on the right.

View from our window.

After long meandering walks, this church steeple told us we were almost back to the hotel.

The Red Light District was right around the corner, but so were many other attractions. We covered a ridiculous amount of Amsterdam on foot, stopping at various cafes to warm up with mint tea, thick soup and crusty bread. According to amsterdam.info,

The old centre was formed by rings of canals with unique mostly 17th century residences of wealthy merchants, financiers, craftsmen, doctors, lawyers, politicians and artists. Because of lack of space, these houses were mostly narrow, not more than 30ft wide (9 meters). They are are characterized by big narrow windows, decorative gable tops, very narrow stairs inside and pulley outside to transport larger objects to upper floors. Very often the residences served also as businesses. Merchants’ houses had their storage in attics and cellars. Sometimes the lift was installed in the middle of the house plan, to transport the goods between floors. The office of the merchant was usually on the ground floor. Like in Venice the canals were the main way of transporting the goods.

Nighttime walks included a chilly stroll along the Amstel River, where we marveled at some installments for the Amsterdam Light Festival. My favorite looked like an illuminated fishnet dangling over the canal, but after visiting the festival’s website, I now know it is a reference to the 2010 earthquake in Chile.

Amsterdam On Foot (and Briefly By Boat)

We invested in the Museumkaart, a pass good for one year and entrance to 400 museums in the Netherlands, including more than 30 in Amsterdam. We definitely got our money’s worth – saving both money and time (you can skip to the head of the line at many locations).

I started to post photos of each place, but all museums have excellent websites with much better pictures than mine. Just click on the links! Here’s where we went:

The Rembrandt House Museum – This was one of my favorite attractions of the whole week. Rembrandt was living and working in this building when he went bankrupt in 1656. Creditors carefully inventoried and then auctioned off all his possessions. The meticulous inventory, along with the artist’s own notes, enabled the museum to recreate the interior as it likely looked during his time – right down to the angle of his easel near the window.

Anne Frank House – The museum does a beautiful job of preserving the young author’s legacy, as well as the story of the others who hid here during the Holocaust.
(If you’re planning to visit Amsterdam, book your Anne Frank House tickets before you go. We’re so glad we did; the lines were around the block!)

Rijksmuseum – A massive renovation project kept many masterpieces behind closed doors, but we greatly enjoyed our visit nonetheless. Like many Amsterdam attractions, they provided an excellent audio tour with fascinating stories behind the frames. Rembrandt’s enormous painting “The Night Watch” was certainly a highlight, especially because a finished puzzle of that artwork hangs in Tony’s sister’s living room. Tony and I both loved “The Milkmaid” by Vermeer. Could’ve stared at that all day.

Hermitage Amsterdam – Another renovation project has closed the Van Gogh Museum, but a collection of 75 major works was on display here. The exhibit reflected seven themes in Van Gogh’s life, which were yet again explained in a wonderful audio tour. There’s something magical about seeing iconic art in person. One display showed a box filled with skeins of yarn in various shades of yellow, brown and ocher. Van Gogh was known to combine complementary strands and roll them into a ball, experimenting with combinations before choosing paint colors. The box on display featured yarn in colors that perfectly matched the adjacent painting, “Quinces, Lemons, Pears and Grapes.” So many favorites at this museum … I can’t pick just one!

The Old Church – The oldest monument in Amsterdam dates back to 1250. It sits smack dab in the middle of the Red Light District with prostitutes posing in windows overlooking the church. In warmer weather, you can climb up the tower.

The New Church – We entered to see the church but instead found an exhibit on the American Indian had taken over every square inch, top to bottom and side to side. It was surreal standing under the 17th-century organ and watching the old black-and-white Popeye cartoon with the Indian chief singing, “Me, Big Chief Ugh-Amugh-Ugh, Gotta have a squaw!” playing in a loop as part of a display on stereotypes.

Museum Our Lord in the Attic – Protestant Amsterdam of the 17th century prohibited Catholics from openly practicing their religion, so Jan Hartman converted the attics of three skinny canal houses into a secret church. It served as the parish church for city centre Catholics for more than 200 years

Museum Willet-Holthuysen – Walking by the lovely but narrow facades of Amsterdam’s canal houses, we were filled with curiosity about what lay beyond the front door. This home of 19th-century socialites gave us a glimpse, including the basement kitchen, the front room (where Louisa Holthuysen received guests between 3:30 and 5 p.m. back in the 1800s), the airy conservatory overlooking a symmetrical garden, and the ostentatious stairwell with statues of Greek gods.

Royal Palace Amsterdam – Originally the town hall of Amsterdam, grandiose statuary provide clues to each room’s function. For example, Lady Justice guards the magistrate’s court flanked by a creepy skeletal Death and Punishment (carrying a knee crusher). We were entranced by the grandeur, including the earth’s two hemispheres inlaid into the floor and Atlas towering overhead with the heavens balanced on his shoulders.

Well, now that you know a bit about where we went, I suppose I’ll share some of my own photos.

We rang in the New Year twice: once on Dec. 31 (see my post called New Year’s Eve in Amsterdam) and once on Jan. 2, when a local Chinese Lion Dance troupe visited the hotel in honor of Chinese New Year, celebrated a bit early to take advantage of the city’s temporary lenience on fireworks. Flashback to our days in Shanghai for sure!
They visited the travel agency next door first, collecting the auspicious lettuce and financial donation.

At Hotel Misc, proprietor Rachel taunted the lion with lettuce dangling from the building’s hoist hook.

After the lion caught the lettuce, the troupe frightened away evil spirits with a deafening display of firecrackers … and left a big mess.

Michigan, On the Road

Christmas War 2012

January 19, 2013 Sharon 3 Comments

In the olden days, Santa left Nerf weapons under the tree or next to our stockings in plain sight. After opening our presents, playing with our new toys, loading our PEZ dispensers, and eating cinnamon rolls, we would break out the Nerf guns for a family battle in the wrapping paper wreckage of our living room. We never questioned the idea of a Christmas morning war.

Over the years, this tradition morphed a bit as adult children reunited for the holidays. Sometimes we delayed the war till later in the day or played a more mellow version, such as lining up cans for targets or aiming our sticky darts to fly through an upstairs window.

We often laugh about the year my parents hosted a Sri Lankan college student, Iranga, for the holiday. (When my parents lived in Saudi Arabia, where women aren’t allowed to drive, Iranga’s father was my mother’s driver.) Tony and I were living in Kansas at the time, but we traveled to Michigan for a Dickinson family gathering. On Christmas morning, my sisters and I were surprised to find no armaments under the tree. Did Santa think we had outgrown this annual event? Presents were distributed, and as per another family tradition, the youngest child opened all of hers first. Finally, it was my mother’s turn. As she unwrapped her last gift, we began to chatter about plans for the rest of the day. “Oh wait,” my father said. “There’s one more box hiding back here behind the tree.” He passed it to my mom, who gingerly peeled off the paper from a large cardboard box. She opened the flaps, peeked in and then quickly whipped out a huge Nerf blaster and passed a second one to my dad. They both pelted us with ping-pong balls as we dove behind furniture, crying with laughter and howling over the unfairness of being unarmed. Poor Iranga didn’t know what to think.

Although Tony and I moved abroad and skipped 11 years of family Christmases, we kept a photo on our fridge of my sisters in the heat of battle, Kate ducking behind an overstuffed chair and Meg peeking out from under a pile of wrapping paper. Returning to Michigan for Christmas 2012, we weren’t sure what to expect, but we invested in a couple Nerf guns, disguised them with tissue paper and stashed them in a gift bag, just in case.

My sister Kate and her family live a short distance away, but they spent the night Christmas Eve so we could all enjoy seeing Nico and Paul wake up to Christmas. Adults rose first and made coffee, warning the boys to stay in their room until we had set up with our cameras. As expected, the neighbor had left a Christmas cake on the front step. Our fridge and freezer were stuffed to capacity, so we had to leave it out there. Finally, we called the boys and got the morning under way. Everything was normal … for awhile.

I love this shot of their sweet faces!

William with his loot. The youngest kid gets to open his presents first.

“Look, Buddy, you got a new belt!” said Nico. Or, a new collar, maybe.

Nico loading his PEZ dispenser.

Megan and Britt had given each couple, including themselves, a “family present.” They opened theirs first: Dart Tag vests with orange safety glasses. They high-fived, and we knew the game was on.

Suspense built as each couple opened the gift and donned their gear.

John and Kate

Me and Tony – I was trying for gangsta, but my jammies killed the look.

My brother Mike was oddly oblivious. We kept telling him, “Open your gift from Meg and Britt!” but he sweetly and innocently insisted on waiting to open joint presents until Summer arrived on the 28th. We all knew that would be too late …

After everyone unwrapped their presents, my dad brought the Christmas cake inside and asked if anyone wanted any.

However, he still had a couple gifts to open, so I stood up and moved the cake box from his lap to an end table. It felt suspiciously light, and I had a feeling all hell was about to break loose. I quickly set my camera to video, placed it strategically on a bookshelf and stepped away. Sure enough, Dad called Nico over to help him uncover the “cake.” Inside the box, were two Nerf guns. And this is how it unfolded:

Favorite moments from the initial attack:
* Everyone trying to be covert, reaching for their stashed weapons as Nico lifts the “cake box” lid.
* My mom protecting her face with the gift I brought her from India, a papier-mâché mask I found at a handicrafts fair in Delhi.
* My clueless brother shouting, “Hey, where’d you get the guns?” while holding the baby.
* Sidney, the Jimenez family dog, laying still through all the chaos, looking annoyed and a bit worried.
* Britt taking cover behind the sofa with his arsenal of Dart Tag guns. (He and Meg bought five Dart Tag sets, gave the vests and glasses as gifts and then kept all the weapons!)
* My pregnant sister, Kate, shouting, “I think I peed my pants!” followed by, “Watch the ninnies!”

Yeah, we’re all class.

Eventually, the action moved beyond the living room with teams spread out upstairs and downstairs. I claimed to be an embedded journalist, but that didn’t stop them from blasting me with their velcro darts, which stuck to my vest like little badges of courage.

Nice cover, Kate.

Tony reloads while Paul has his back.

Mike, finally armed, and trusty guard dog, Buddy.

Thank goodness for safety glasses, eh Dad?

Eventually, someone called a truce and everyone regrouped in the kitchen to enjoy another Dickinson Christmas tradition: cinnamon rolls. And then there was peace.

Michigan, On the Road

Home for the Holidays

January 13, 2013 Sharon 2 Comments

I have to admit I was feeling a tinge of resentment about heading to the States for Christmas. (So many destinations on my bucket list and so little time.) However, as our departure date approached, I started to get excited. In Michigan, we could stay at our little lake house, go to the movies, visit the amazing Detroit Institute for the Arts, take the nephews to kid-friendly attractions, enjoy the wonderful nature trails, eat at fantastic restaurants, drink quality wine at reasonable prices, hang out in fun pubs/coffee shops/cafes/etc., hit the sales, and otherwise sample aspects of American life we miss in India.

In reality, I rarely left my parents’ house. The place was so Christmas-y inside and out with over-the-top decorations – miles of twinkly lights, THREE Christmas trees, garland, ribbons, glittery snowflakes, life-sized quilted snowmen and wooden nutcrackers, wreaths, personalized stockings and myriad displays. It was like Santa’s Workshop exploded. Add that to a jam-packed fridge, bottomless pots of coffee and a kitchen table ringed with the people I love most – what more could I want? Somehow the hours slipped away, and we’d realize we had done nothing but sit around and chat, transitioning from coffee to wine as the day wore on. My mom prepared a bunch of family favorites for our dinners, so we didn’t even eat out much. Here are a few shots to set the mood.
(I made this little movie in iPhoto; not sure if I like the format. Does it make you dizzy?)

Tony spent one night at our lakehouse, and I drove out with him to see the lake in its snowy glory, but I couldn’t bear to spend a whole night away from the rest of the gang.

Of course, I was all about the nephews and wanted to spend nearly every waking moment with them.

Christmas morning started off like any normal Christmas. But at the Dickinson Resort, nothing stays normal for long. Stay tuned…

On the Road

New Year’s Eve in Amsterdam

January 6, 2013 Sharon Leave a comment

I never thought I’d have anything good to say about jetlag, but it sure helped us stay up late on New Year’s Eve! Midnight arrived in Amsterdam at 6 p.m. Michigan time, so we were wide awake and hungry. Our hotel hosts, Rachel and Pepijn, prepared traditional Dutch treats-mostly fried balls of assorted tasty concoctions-and treated us to a small bottle of champagne. Perfect! Situated a few steps from the festivities at Neuimarkt Square, our tiny lobby provided a safe and entertaining vantage point. Tony and I braved the rain for the countdown, shared a toast and a smooch, and then popped back inside. Locals said the fireworks were tame compared to past years, but they still worried about their tinder-box canal houses while impaired revelers launched heavy artillery “probably purchased in Belgium” (a country with loose laws regarding such things, we were told). We hung out with the hotel crowd until nearly 2 a.m. – surely a record for us! (The bad side of jetlag? I was still reading in bed when the church bells rang at 4 a.m.)

Daily Life, Michigan, On the Road

Twelve Years of Christmas

January 1, 2013 Sharon 1 Comment

I just dug through 701 email messages and pages of old blog posts, as well as photo albums uploaded willy-nilly on shutterfly, picasa and flickr to reconstruct my memory of the last 12 Christmases. I knew for sure that we hadn’t spent a single Christmas in the States, but I couldn’t remember exactly where we HAD spent them. Now I know. And I’m documenting the details here so I’ll be able to find it easily next time. If you traveled with us and/or think I got some of this wrong, please let me know!

When we lived in Turkey, we didn’t actually get a break for Christmas, so we attended and hosted parties (and even flew to Germany for the weekend once) to rouse some holiday spirit. Here’s the run-down on our post-Christmas semester breaks:
2001-02 – Cappedocia and Ephesus, Turkey, with Koc School colleagues Marcos, Renee, Steph and Sarah.
2002-03 – Koh Samui, Bangkok, and Chiang Mai, Thailand, with Marcos and Amber.
2003-04 – Cairo and a Nile cruise in Egypt with Lisa.
2004-05 – Miami and Carnival Cruise with Lisa, followed by the job fair at the University of Northern Iowa.

After moving to China, our two-week semester breaks coincided with Christmas.
2005-06 – Phuket, Thailand.
2006-07 – Malaysian Borneo with Scott and Amy.
2007-08 – Dickinson family reunion in Ramstein, Germany.
2008-09 – Yangshuo, China, followed by the job fair in Bangkok.

During our two years in Laos, we got a whole month off for the semester break!
2009-10 – Krabi, Thailand, followed by a visit from my sister Megan, who traveled with me to Cambodia and Luang Prabang, Laos.
2010-11 – played host in Vientiane to house guests Scott, Amy and Blake, and then headed to the Bangkok job fair.

So far in India, our semester break has been 3 weeks.
2011-12 – Garmish, Germany, with my parents, brother and sis-in-law.

And that brings me to NOW. After all that, I can confidently say we spent Christmas 2012 in the United States for the first time since moving abroad. Why would we do that?

Here’s the short answer:

His name is William Augustus Warren, and he is the latest addition to my nephew collection. Will, aka Guster, aka Love Bucket, was born Sept. 29 to my sister Megan and her hubby, Britt. The devastating loss of their first son, Benjamin, made William’s arrival all the more poignant and powerful. I simply couldn’t wait till summer to meet this little guy. A bit shy at first, he quickly warmed up to all the Dickinson chaos. I cuddled the stuffing out of him, and my eyes more often than not teared up with love. Tony enjoyed bouncing him while singing inappropriate lullabies (such as “Two Beavers are Better Than One” from the TV show, “How I Met Your Mother”). By the end of our two-week visit, William had changed so much! He gained more control over his wobbly head, and he began to kick and wave with gusto. His wide blue eyes started tracking to whoever cooed the loudest … or to whichever ceiling fan caught his fancy. Best of all, he started smiling! Big, gummy, perfect smiles!

Here are a few more shots of that sweet doll baby.

Of course, I cherished every minute with my other two nephews, Nico and Paul, too. Hilarious, curious, talented and cute as can be, those two little guys rock my world. Stay tuned … I have heaps more Christmas coverage to come …

India, On the Road

Weird, wonderful, colorful, camelful Pushkar Camel Fair

November 27, 2012 Sharon 3 Comments

Last year around this time, one of my students was absent on Friday and Monday.
“Were you sick?” I asked.
“No…,” she answered. “My mom told me not to tell you that we went to the Pushkar Camel Fair! It was awesome!”
I soon realized many students (and teachers) were “sick” that weekend, so I did a little research on the fair. I discovered the five-day fair takes place every year during the month of Kartika on the lunar Hindu calendar, which falls in October or November. It transforms the sleepy town of Pushkar, in the Indian state of Rajasthan, into a bustling carnival of animal traders, performers, revelers and tourists. Depending on the source, camels at the fair reportedly number from 25,000 to 50,000. That’s a lot of camels. I had to see it. Good thing I didn’t call in “sick” too early – the 2012 Pushkar Camel Fair coincided with our Thanksgiving holiday! I booked the hotel and train tickets far in advance, so you can imagine how excited I was when last weekend finally rolled around.

I’ve done my share of lay-around-the-beach vacations that yield little in the way of blogworthy photos or stories. This was not one of those vacations. This was visual overstimulation like never before. In just 2 ½ days, I took almost 500 pictures. Looking at those snapshots on the computer, I recall the object of my attention at the time, but then I notice about 50,000 other interesting details I missed the first time – in the background, in the foreground, in the crowd, in the clothing, on the faces, on the buildings. It was hard to focus the camera on any one thing in Pushkar, and now it’s hard to focus mentally on any one thing as I recall the experiences from the weekend. The color, the dust, the juxtapositions, the flowers, the spiritual energy, the joy, the peace amidst the chaos. Everyone loves a good beach vacation, but I’m quite sure Pushkar will rank as one of my most treasured trips.

Prepare for an onslaught of photos. I’m struggling to cull.

Home away from home.
My little band of teacher-travelers included Becky, Isaac, Katrina, Nancy and Nancy’s two kids. While Becky and Isaac stayed at a nearby budget hotel, the rest of us booked rooms in two “haveli hotels” owned by a friendly man named Anoop. A “haveli” is a private mansion of historical significance. Anoop lives in the first floor of Dia, a small bed and breakfast, where I stayed in the breezy Anandi Room and enjoyed the company of several cats, two turtles and a happy yellow lab. Nancy’s gang and Katrina stayed at the larger Inn Seventh Heaven, where roots and vines crawl through the balustrades and dangle from the rooftop restaurant. We mostly ate at the Seventh Heaven restaurant, Sixth Sense, patiently waiting for our food to arrive by a rigged metal dumbwaiter, guarding our pancakes from Fat Dog and startling as pigeons took shortcuts through the open windows or landed on the ceiling fans.

Camel cart tour.
Despite waking at 4 a.m. Thanksgiving morning to catch our train and riding for more than six hours on the ironically named Shadtabdi Express, we were all eager to hit the ground running. We followed the crowds to the fairgrounds along a road lined with tempting shops and market stalls, repeating, “We’ll shop in the morning!” Upon arriving at the fairgrounds, we weren’t sure where to start. Fortunately, the camel handlers don’t give you time to think. We all piled into a camel-drawn cart for a ride without any idea where we were going or what to expect. The cart joined a caravan of like-minded tourists and hauled us the short distance to an expanse of desert where camel traders in colorful turbans crouched next to their animals, awaiting shoppers and tolerating the gawkers. The orange hazy sun setting in the dust-darkened sky provided an apt backdrop for this surreal scene.

For camels who like to accessorize.

Pushkar is the home of the world’s only temple to Brahma, the Hindu god of creation, and devout Hindus believe a dip in the holy lake will wash away sins of a lifetime. All roads in Pushkar seem to lead to one of the 52 “ghats,” the stairways leading down to the lake. Pilgrims purchase offerings, which they drop into the water with prayers for health, happiness and prosperity. They fill the streets, ladies clad in their most stunning saris with bags balanced on their heads and barefoot men dressed in plain white “lungis,” a long stretch of fabric wrapped and tucked to cover the nether regions, and additional yards of fabric, often neon-bright, twisted into turbans. There was a different vibe here. Everyone seemed to exude a sense that this place was special. Women made eye contact and returned my smile with gentle “namastes,” encouraging their babies to wave. Children laughed and tossed out all their English phrases. “Good morning. Good afternoon. Good evening. Good night,” one boy said proudly. Most men seemed preoccupied by their families or their spiritual journey. We didn’t encounter the swarms of Indians obsessed with taking phone “snaps” with us. We didn’t get the creepy once-over so typical of young men in Delhi. There were stares, as usual, but they were fleeting and moved on quickly to other happy pursuits. I simply couldn’t put down my camera.

Let’s play “spot the foreigner.”

Human touch.

How gorgeous is that little girl?

The colors almost hurt your eyes.

More street shots… Note the motorcycles trying to drive through the crowd, the painted people promoting a music festival, Isaac strangely appearing in several backgrounds, the group of youngsters who ALL asked to shake my hand, little white balls of sugar offered at a shrine, the streetside parking (motorcycle, cow, motorcycle)…

Walking around at night was equally interesting.

Sweet, spicy tea in a tiny clay cup.

More, more, more.

Temple hike
Anoop (the hotel owner) encouraged us to hike up a nearby hill to a small temple overlooking the valley. I do have a weird need to climb things when I’m on vacation, so I convinced Isaac, Becky and Katrina to join me. At the top, we took off our shoes to visit the little temple, where we heard a short Hind-glish version of the temple’s history and purpose from a quirky groundskeeper.

The camel fair features a full program of fascinating events and attractions, including camel dancing, Indian bride competition for foreigners, temple dance, mustache competition, Rajasthani folk music, turban tying competition, and laughter show. I have no idea what most of those were. We only braved the crowds to watch one event: camel dancing, which seemed akin to camel torture. I asked a restaurant owner about another one of the events: Kabaddi.
He explained, “It’s very much like American football. You have a line in the middle with seven players on either side. Then you say ‘kabaddi, kabaddi, kabaddi.'”
…awkward lull while I stare in confusion…
His friend tries to help, “You no say ‘kabaddi,’ man tell you ‘sit down!'”
The two guys looked at each other like it all makes sense and is indeed very much like American football.
I just nodded and said, “Ohhh…Okayyy.”

Here are some scenes from the stadium during the camel dancing. Some of my friends paid to watch from a camel perch, but I just poked around at ground level. I’m kicking myself for not going to that circus!

Looking over the schedule of events and mapping out a tentative plan for our visit, we noted the rent-a-camel option. I wracked my brain, rewinding through 12 years of living overseas and a lifetime of travel … had I ever ridden a camel before? It’s possible I’m wrong, but I do believe Pushkar provided my first-ever camel ride! How is that possible?

We all boarded camels at the fairground and rode out to the same area we visited on our cart ride. My camel handler was about 8 years old and tough as nails. He walked us through the horse market, where the swanky horse owners threw a hissy fit to see a grungy camel in their midst. While the boy was arguing with them, my camel slyly tried to nip a taste of fresh bundled greens clearly intended for the spoiled fancy horses, but he got yanked back before he could sneak a snack. Out in the camel field, the handlers made us dismount so we could shop at their makeshift souvenir tent. That was a bit annoying, but it gave us an opportunity to act like idiots for some silly pictures. I thought it would be funny to put my hat on the camel and strike a pose like, “Yo camel, why’d you take my hat?” However, the camel thought it would be funnier to snap his big yellow teeth at me and strike a pose like, “Yo dummy, I am way too cool for that stupid hat.” After the camel and I had come to an agreement, the handler said, “No touch camel. No hat to camel.” Yes, thank you, the camel already made that perfectly clear.

More camel ride photos.

Sacred lake.
Hoping to spend some quiet time lakeside, we walked down the steps at one of the “ghats” that lead to Pushkar Lake. Immediately we were accosted and handed a metal pan of religious paraphernalia. A man guided me to sit on the steps while he led me through a litany of prayers using a coconut, flower petals, red paste to mark the third-eye on my forehead, rice to symbolize prosperity, sugar, and a string, which he tied around my wrist with a blessing. He told me to repeat after him, so I uttered the names of many Hindu deities (Durga, Ganesha, Shiva, Parabrahma…) along with random phrases like “happy father, happy mother, happy husband, everybody happy, everybody healthy…” Then he told me to hold the coconut and say my own prayers silently before taking my pan down to the water’s edge to dump the contents as an offering. Done and done.

View from a rooftop restaurant.

While the rest of our crowd headed home Saturday afternoon, Katrina and I stayed an extra day. After a chat with Anoop, we decided to enjoy a leisurely walk in the countryside. My hotel, Dia, sat at the edge of town. We were all prepared to check out hillside temples and freshwater springs until Anoop warned us about the red monkey. “He’s pathologically psychotic,” he said, explaining that someone at one of the temples used to feed him opium or something. Since that guy skipped town, the red monkey is off his rocker, attacking people without provocation and even climbing through windows to bite people in their own homes. So… change of plans. We still went for a walk, but we mostly stayed in the dry irrigation canal and steered clear of the temples and the springs. We didn’t see the famed red monkey, but on the way back to the hotel, we saw a monkey aggressively jump on the back of a pig, riding it for a bit while the pig squealed and ran in terror. Awesome.

On the Road

Keeping it mellow in Bangkok

November 17, 2012 Sharon 4 Comments

You know your life is getting weirder by the minute when you’re actually BORED at the prospect of blogging about Bangkok. Tony and I tried to figure out how many times we’ve been there, but we keep losing count. Still, I love it.

We skipped out of India for last weekend’s Diwali holiday, heading to Thailand for our annual medical check-ups. For a TMI version of a typical day at Bumrungrad Hospital, check out my post from 2009. Our most recent visit was very similar. Same hospital pajamas. Same checklist. Almost the same results. All good.

I had two shopping goals for this trip: a new camera and a bike trainer (a stand that converts a bicycle into a stationary bike). We spent a full day traipsing around to every major camera store in town with no luck. I just couldn’t find what I was looking for. We did, however, track down ProBike, a nice cycling store near Lumphini Park and, more importantly, near the relocated Crepes & Co. (We had sweated our way to the OLD Crepes & Co., only to find a sign saying it moved. Dang it.) Certain the bike shop would deliver my trainer to the hotel, I had envisioned making the purchase and then strolling around the neighborhood before enjoying dinner at Crepes & Co.

Good news: I found the trainer I wanted, and it was on sale!
Bad news: The store wouldn’t deliver it.
Good news: We found a taxi willing to drive around the block to the restaurant, where we had a delicious meal.
Bad news: It would have taken hours to get back to our hotel by taxi, so we had to haul the heavy trainer a few blocks and up a LOT of stairs to the Skytrain.
Good news: Tony did it!

As always in this city of 8 million people, we ran into a few friends – at Chatachuk Market, on the Skytrain AND at the hospital.

Chatachuk Market, one of my favorite places in the WORLD, was amazing, as usual, but it’s always discouraging when the shopkeepers give you the once-over and say, “Come in my shop! I have big size!”

Massages are another highlight of visits to Bangkok. We can get Thai massages in India for about $25, but in Bangkok a good hour-long massage will run you about $8. Such a great way to re-energize after a long hot day of exploring. Lek Massage was a little hole-in-the-wall place right next to our hotel. The ladies were friendly, but not TOO friendly, if you know what I mean. I got what was probably the best foot massage of my life one evening, and we decided to get full-body Thai massages the next day. For Thai massage, you dress in fisherman pants and a loose top, provided by the salon. Tony couldn’t figure out how to secure the huge waistband, so he called out to the massage therapist. He thought she would gesture the answer to his question, but instead she grabbed the top of his pants, whipped them right down to his ankles and THEN gestured that they were on backwards. Good thing he kept on his underpants!

Another funny moment made us feel really old. Vendors selling anything and everything set up along Sukhumvit Road, catering to the mobs of tourists who stay in this district. One night, we passed a stall selling “oral jelly.” We had no idea what it was.
“Isn’t ALL jelly oral?” Tony asked. “You eat jelly with your mouth.”
We speculated a lot about what it could be, and since the vendor selling it was also selling Viagra and sex toys, we figured it wasn’t strawberry jam.
Back at the hotel, we googled it. Turns out “oral jelly” is like Viagra in the form of Listerine strips. It comes in myriad flavors.
“Guess which flavor I want?” Tony asked.
“Chocolate,” I said.
“No.”
“Butterscotch,” I said.
“Yes!”
“Don’t you really just want butterscotch CANDY?” I asked.
“Yes.”

So, our whole weekend basically comprised eating, shopping, getting massages and lounging around. Our new favorite place to lounge: rooftop bars. We met some friends at Red Sky, a bar on the 55th floor of the Centara Grand Hotel (attached to Siam Paragon Mall). Getting there took forever, as we didn’t take the most direct route. We actually went up 23 floors on ESCALATORS before we found the elevator! Ridiculous.

We loved Above Eleven, on the 33rd floor of the Fraser Suites hotel.
Here’s Tony, enjoying the view. Remember, I don’t have a camera. These are phone snaps.

Bangkok is so quiet and pretty from up high!

This street-level converted VW Bus bar was also very cool.

These stickers were in our taxi back to the airport on Sunday.

As I wrote on FaceBook: Dang it, just when I was all ready for some post-coital durian fruit with a glass of whiskey and a smoke while petting my German shepherd and using a sword to whittle my initials in a big-horn sheep skull… How’s a girl supposed to have any fun in this town?

Just kidding, of course. We ALWAYS have fun in this town!

The Guide Hog

Category Archives: On the Road

Kathmandu – Ladies weekend!

O, Man! Forensics and fun in Muscat

Spring Break – Maldives Diary

Amster…DAM, we loved it!

Christmas War 2012

Home for the Holidays

New Year’s Eve in Amsterdam

Twelve Years of Christmas

Weird, wonderful, colorful, camelful Pushkar Camel Fair

Keeping it mellow in Bangkok

Adventures in Teaching and Travel