Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Ko Chang

SCXUBA
Tha Nam (Lonely) Beach

Studying for our scuba exam - and you thought our lives were easy

The newfound swagger of a certified diver

My once-a-day health regimen

Making it happen on the overnight party train to Chaing Mai

Ko Chang is the large, elephant-shaped island in the Gulf of Thailand, near the Cambodian border.  Happy to escape from busy Bangkok, what should have been a short stopover turned to over a week and half on the island.  It was not all play, though: I was sick the entire time, and Christina dealt with her own ear infections before catching my virus.  Of course there are worse places to rest and recover.  

But beyond the attractive beaches, curious macaques, and shoe-stealing puppies, the real reason we stuck around was to learn to scuba dive.  It is dangerous to go under while congested or ear-infected, so we had to wait it out before beginning our PADI course.  The equipment and procedure took some getting used to, but with the help of our Scottish instructor Mark, we quickly got comfortable at depth.  It is a thrill to breathe underwater, and it was quite dramatic to descend freely for the first time, unable to see the ocean floor, the sunlight at the surface dimming as I fell.  Our certification means we can dive on our own at depths up to 18 meters, which I promise is much deeper than it sounds.  It is another world down there, and we're eager to explore it.  "Don't ride the manta rays!"

Friday, December 9, 2011

Baby Goats, Everyone?

Goatpower




On the night of King Bhumibol's 84th birthday, by a pier in Downtown Bangkok, we found a small pen filled with baby goats.  For 20 Thai Baht, or about 70 cents, we could bottle feed them.  We did.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Gin Len

Eat

Jui Kuai





Part of the fun is telling the chef how delicious his/her food is

Our Egyptian feast: Molokhia, Moussaka Béchamel, Bamia Stew

Clichéd but irresistible backpacker stand: Pad Thai and springrolls

Fighting the heat with Thai Iced Tea and Coffee


Gin Len, literally to "eat for fun," is a Thai way of life.  You cannot walk down the street without being stopped by the sights, smells, and once you've caved, tastes of the endless rows of food stands.  How do you resist sesame battered bananas fried crisp before your eyes, sweet and savory doughnuts, fresh mango salad, whole fried fish, fresh young coconut juice, curries of all color and composition, stir-fried rice noodles, nutella pancakes, tropical fruit smoothies, fried sweet peanut crackers, ad infinitum?  You don't.

In Bangkok the Thai dishes are spicier, sweeter, fresher, more fragrant, and more complete than anything I've had in the United States.  The street food costs beans, the restaurants a tremendous value.  And we haven't limited ourselves to Thai food.  The diversity of Bangkok led us to dine Egyptian in Little Arabia, feast through Chinatown, and inhale Belgian chocolate (we may have snuck in a few freshly fried springrolls, to remind us where we were).  Coming from New Zealand, where the food was generally neither what you would call good nor affordable, this is heaven.  The only meal to disappoint?  Of course, the only meal we shelled out on, an overly touristy Chao Phraya Dinner Cruise.  And the Jui Kuai we tasted in Chinatown may have been my single favorite bite.  According to the sign: "Jui Kuai is kind of Chinese snack.  Made it from powdery white sink bowl."  Life is a mysterious and wonderful thing.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Bangkok

Invisibable
Golden Mountain



Mastering the public transit system


Our death-defying Tuk Tuk ride




!


If leaving New Zealand had only been so simple!  We arrived at Auckland International about four hours early, prepared for anything.  Well, Air Malaysia refused to check us into our flight to Bangkok, explaining that they could not fly us into Thailand without an outward ticket.  So we could spend $1000 on some random advance ticket out of Thailand so we could check-in in Auckland, or we could fly to Kuala Lumpur, as far as they would send us and our bags, and hope the Malaysians would be more relaxed about this policy, which seemed to us to be an issue with Thai Immigration, not the damn airline that agreed to fly us there in the first place.  A few hours of cursing, panicking, and strategizing later (we may have forged an onward ticket to present to the airline), we decided to board our flight to KL and take our chances.  Sure enough, we exited and re-entered customs and transferred in Malaysia without a problem, and upon our arrival in Bangkok Thai Immigration couldn’t have cared less, and we walked through customs and out the airport door without stopping.

And here we are in Bangkok, population 11,000,000 - nearly three times that of New Zealand's human population, though still only a third NZ's sheep.  If I had any expectations of Bangkok, they were to be overwhelmed, awed, confused, and satiated.  It has not disappointed.  Bangkok is an amazing city.  It is ultra-modern, with skyscrapers, public transit, and architecture that appear newer and brighter than anything I’m familiar with (not to mention luxury shopping centers that shit bigger malls than the Natick Collection).  And beside this enormous metropolis is the “Old Bangkok,” where we are staying, where you can view the Grand Palace as it stood 200 years ago, explore more gorgeous wats (temples) than you can handle, and travel down the canals off the Chao Phraya River, gaining a view into the Thais who still hold onto parts of an older way of life, using the canals as home, livelihood, bath, and sewer all.  (Bangkok used to be known as the “Venice of the East,” its residents “River Gods.”)   The neighborhoods of Bangkok are unified by a few features, perhaps, including crowds, heat, unbelievable traffic, food carts (more later), and in my case, perspiration.  You’ve never been lost until you’ve been lost in a city whose street signs don’t use Roman characters, whose street maps don’t include street names, and whose polluted air is painful to breathe!

Yet the heat, chaos, and air quality are small prices to pay for a city so stimulating.  We have been tenderized by Thai massage and awed by the sparkling wats and towering golden buddhas.  We’ve seen the city lights from a night river cruise and we’ve eaten our way through Chinatown.  We’ve had the dead skin on our feet picked off by hundreds of hungry minnows (“You!  Fish Spa?”) and we’ve explored Bangkok’s contemporary art scene.  We've seen paper lanterns released in celebration of King Rama IX's 84th birthday and we've struggled to find the hidden Taling Chan floating market.  And we leave the city tomorrow having barely seen a thing.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Leaving New Zealand

Silence
Our campsite outside Rotorua


Our favorite Auckland Asian foodcourt, and the topic of 90% of our hiking conversations, Food Alley


Black sands of Piha beach

I am deeply grateful to my family and to Christina for this experience, which is impossible to summarize.  It wasn't without hardship, and New Zealand is not without its flaws, but I have taken more from my time here than I could have hoped for.  What a funny feeling to look at the present and know this is as good as it will ever be.

May it now continue in Asia.  !

Monday, November 28, 2011

Tongariro Northern Circuit

Space


One does not simply nap into Mordor




Blue Lake

Red Crater in front of Ngauruhoe


Emerald Lakes


Perfect mountain cones, deserts of volcanic ash, emerald colored lakes, explosion craters still producing heat on the earth's surface: we experienced nothing else like Tongariro in New Zealand.  Speaking with trampers we've met on past walks, the conversation inevitably turns: "But have you done Tongariro?"  We skipped it driving down the North Island last January, it seemed beyond our strength at the time, but I remember speeding through the plains of the park in an eerie fog that kept its features a secret. I knew then that folks were up there walking the circuit, many doing the crossing, what is widely considered the best day-walk in the country.

Tongariro National Park is an UNESCO World Heritage Site on both cultural and natural grounds.  The park sits on the Pacific Ring of Fire, and the three great volcanoes, Tongariro, Ruapehu, and Ngauruhoe, dominate the landscape.  All three volcanoes are active, and the largest of which, Ruapehu, last erupted in 1996.  Ngauruhoe is more famous for being cast as Mt. Doom in the Lord of the Rings movies.  The landscape is carved by the flows of lava, which leave behind valleys of volcanic rock and little else (the ongoing re-pavement of the land leaves little chance for vegetation).  The land is sacred to the Tu Wharetoa tribe, who view the mountains as tupuna (god-like ancestors).  With great foresight, the Maori tribe gifted the park to the crown in 1887, seeing the protection of national park status (it would be New Zealand's first) as the only way to protect the land from settlers.  I don't know to what extent it was the power of suggestion, but walking alone through the deserts of volcanic debris, it was easy to feel an otherworldly power or presence in the land.  Other areas felt like how I would imagine the surface of mars (some cliffs and craters are even colored red from the volcanic mineral content).

You can begin the Northern Circuit from a few starting points, and we decided to take on the crossing in the first day, giving us the most accurate weather forecast for the most important section.  It is, of course, also the most popular leg of the tramp.  By 8am, the trail that crosses through Mt. Tongariro and Mt. Ngauruhoe is overrun by day-walkers.  During the peak season, one thousand walkers might make the pilgrimage from Mangatepopo Rd. to the pickup point at Ketetahi Rd. each day, where hotdog and ice cream vendors cater to the crowds waiting for their bus pick-up.  The crossing is very touristy, and much more commercial-feeling than the other Great Walks, but all for good reason.  The crossing is spectacular, and the colored volcanic lakes, explosion craters, mountain summits, and powerful scenery attract folks who might not do one other walk on their visit.  We woke up at 3:45am hoping to beat the scene, and looking down into the crater valleys from above, the crowds of walkers looked like ants marching in a line to your picnic.  Unfortunately, the weather did not quite cooperate.  All was clear at dawn, but by the time we reached the ridge above the Red Crater Cliffs, the highest point of the track, Mt. Ngauruhoe was completely hidden.  It was frigid and windy, which made the volcanic heat rising from the rock and dirt below even more badass, but it also meant we could not spend the whole afternoon up there admiring our surroundings as we had hoped.  So we descended down the lip of Red Crater past the Emerald Lakes, and down a series of switchbacks to Ketetahi Hut, overlooking Lake Taupo and Rotoaira.

The party really came to a halt, though, when Christina decided she could not continue the walk - her foot was causing too much pain.  After some deliberation, I left her the next morning at Ketetahi Hut, where she planned to spend one more night before meeting me at the Ketetahi carpark.  Meanwhile, I would finish the circuit in two days, pick up the car at Mangatepopo, and then pick her up.  I set off for Waihohonu Hut, which is approximately halfway around the circuit from where we began.  A thunderstorm passed through the park that afternoon, and listening to the rolling thunder alone in the ash desert was an awesome experience.  Yet I arrived at Waihohonu unsure of myself: I had a long day in front of me the next morning, covering half the track in nine to eleven hours of walking.  But, if the forecast stayed true and the morning was clear, why slog through long, at times monotonous terrain to complete the circuit, why not backtrack the half of the track I just covered, giving myself another shot at the crossing in better weather?

So I put my bag back on and began backtracking to Oturere Hut, getting myself as close to the crossing in the morning as possible, aiming to arrive at the lakes before the day-walkers (if it sounds like I think I'm better than them, I am).  This meant over 27km of walking in one day, though, gaining and dropping over 1000m, which was more than I could handle.  I wouldn't say I went into survival mode, I was never in real danger, but it was an intense experience.  I reached my limit, stopping to rest first every half hour, then every twenty, ten, and five minutes, empty and desperate to be done walking.  The final stretch was brutal.

Sleeping only a few hours that night, I woke up before dawn and put on my bandana, entering into a sort of Beast Mode you can only understand with intimate familiarity with Nelson Cruz's hot streaks.  I climbed back up to the lakes in time to see the sun rise over the mountains, taking my time to explore the stunning scenery.  Sort of magically, Christina decided to walk back the same way, planning to catch me at the car before I took off.  After a surprise meeting on the climb up the crater ("Look what the cat dragged in.") we had nearly two hours alone in this private playground.  Clouds settled in over the mountains just after we saw our first group heading past us in the other direction, and by the time we began our descent into the valley, we were passing wave after wave of trampers.  That morning was a gift, the three days an unforgettable finale to our time hiking in New Zealand.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Lake Waikaremoana

invisible



Staying warm at the Waiopaoa Hut

Panekire Bluff


Sick but sound in the watertaxi home

Located in the southwest corner of Te Urewera National Park, the Lake Waikaremoana Great Walk is a 46km four day tramp that showcases the sandy shores of the beautiful lake, the Panekire Bluff, and the bird-rich podocarp rainforest (we heard kiwi, but no sightings).

Waikaremoana is a relatively easy walk, most of it following a well-defined track alongside the sunny beaches of the lake.  We spent our first night atop the Panekire Bluff, enjoying some fabulous views of the winding bays 700m below.  We then descended to Waiopaoa Hut, where we took a dip in the chilly water.  Better late than never, we settled on an iron law of tramping: if there is a body of water you must swim in it.  No matter how cold, it will be the most fun you'll have that day.  Unfortunately, I was fighting a cold for much of the first two days of the walk, and Christina's symptoms set in in time for the final two, meaning features like the climb up the bluff felt much more difficult than they ought have.  And due to a strange set of circumstances I packed about half the amount of food we needed.  And what we did have tasted terrible!  A revealing moment saw us licking the sugar coating of Advil for pleasure.

The real trouble, however, was Christina's foot, which nearly prevented her from trying the walk at all.  She injured it running, angrily, the day I booked the walk.  She battled through, and was rewarded with a watertaxi ride back to the lakefront general store, where we cannonballed once more off the dock before buying ice cream, chocolate, and ginger beer for the drive west.