Friday, June 30, 2006

T's Top Twenty Travel Tips

Throughout my travels, I’ve learned a few handy tricks of the traveling trade. Some of them you may have heard before, but there may be a few newbies. As the first leg of my extended global journey ends, I leave you with my top twenty tips. Some of them apply more to budget travel; others are targeted at international travel. You may only find them worth as much as you paid for them. In any event, here they are in no particular order:

1. Order vegetarian meals on flights as you usually get a fresher meal, the meat doesn’t rot in your gut while you’re sitting for hours on end, and the taste of rubber chicken is usually not as good as a hot carrot.

2. Carry a pen with you on international flights. You will need it to fill out customs and immigration forms. You can sometimes beat the crowds if you have your forms completed before you land.

3. Bring an all-in-one universal electricity converter and adaptor with a removable fuse in case a surge causes your adaptor to short circuit. That said, make sure you have a backup fuse.

4. Before booking accommodations at your destination, check travel threads online to read other traveler’s reviews. They are usually more honest and direct than the tour books and guides.

5. If you use a guide book like Lonely Planet or Frommers, rely on it more for getting around and points of interest. Usually featured accommodations are overstated and overly touristy by the time the book has been in print for a year. The internet is a better source for finding the latest hot spots or up and coming digs.

6. If you’re in a country where taxis do not use meters, negotiate the fare before you get in. If you’re arriving at an airport and need a taxi, look for a taxi stand before you leave the terminal. Many countries now have taxi stands that charge fixed rates based on mileage. This avoids haggling and overcharging of unsuspecting visitors. Also, check for airport shuttle buses to and from the central part of town. They are usually less expensive and can be just as efficient.

7. Never get in a cab with people other than the driver if you don’t know them. Some cars present themselves as taxis, but are really just taking you for a ride far enough to snag your wallet and luggage. Along the same vein, if your luggage fits in the backseat with you, avoid putting it in the trunk. This way you are less of a captive audience as your luggage is not held hostage. Additionally, sometimes drivers try to charge a “luggage fee” if it is placed in the trunk (e.g. Malaysia).

8. Always carry a pack of baby wipes in your backpack or handbag. Keeps your options open.

9. When arriving at a new hotel or hostel, ask the front desk for a map. Most places have maps of the surrounding area readily available. The maps are usually in large print and have the most recent information. At the same time, ask for a hotel business card. This will come in handy if you do not speak the local language and get lost. Show it to a shopkeeper or a taxi driver and they can get you back to your home away from home.

10. Research your destination before you get there. This one is more for independent travelers and is quite obvious, but more time put in up front means less time while you're on the road, freeing you to be in the moment. Plus, these days the best discount room offers are usually web specials. (Note: If traveling to SE Asia, don’t prebook your inter-country flights from the US (unless you are on a really tight schedule). They can be double or triple the price of buying a ticket locally just a day or two before your flight.)

11. Carry small bills of foreign currency at all times. You don’t want to flash big cash if you are in unfamiliar territory. Plus if you are bargaining over a $10 item and pull out a $100 bill, it’s hard to rely on the “poor me” argument. Instead, keep three sets of money on your person. One set is your backup US dollars for emergency situations or bail. A second set of small bills in foreign currency should be in your right pocket. And finally, in your left pocket (or money belt) should be a third set of foreign currency in various denominations.

12. Before purchasing local wares or handicrafts, ask locals around town how much such and such might “go for”. Many times they will tell you a local price. Then when you walk into the shop, you know your price point. You may still end up paying a slight “tourist tax” of sorts, but at least it’s not the “rake you over the coals and leave you for dead tax”. Just be prepared to walk away. Remind yourself, you didn’t have it before you walked in so you’ll probably be alright leaving without it. Plus, I estimate most travel purchases to be at least 50% impulse buying. Ever buy something abroad, get it home, and say to yourself, “what was I thinking?” Yeah, I thought so, me too.

13. Continuing on the bargaining theme, if you are negotiating over $1 or $2, think about who may benefit from the small difference more. It usually means a lot more to the vendor. Sometimes it’s ok not to get the “best deal ever”.

14. Pack small enough so that you can carry-on the plane. For four and a half months, I traveled with four shirts, two pairs of pants, one pair of shoes, one pair of sandals and one pullover. That’s it. And it was more than I needed. You can add in a new shirt along the way if necessary. Wal-Mart is taking over the world so you can find it in a country near you.

15. Don’t ask me why, but clean clothes pack thinner than dirty clothes. I don’t know if it’s a matter of physics or chemistry relating to dirt molecules, but my clean clothes always packed more easily than the same clothes when they were dirty (which was most of the time).

16. Carry a bottle of water with you at all times.

17. Carry at least 2 extra passport photos with you. If you want to get a visa for an unscheduled country abroad, you’ll need the photos. And if you lose your passport, you’ll also need them. Just don’t keep them with your passport!

18. Check US government immigration website in the early stages of planning your trip. It is a one stop shop for travel advisories/warnings and visa requirements of other nations. You may need to get started on obtaining multiple visas months before your trip. If you don’t live in a major city, you will either have to use a visa service (usually a $25-$100 surcharge) or mail it to an embassy or consulate yourself. Depending on the embassy, the process can take anywhere from days to weeks.

19. Use an ATM card where feasible as banks usually give the best exchange rates. Traveler’s Cheques are virtually obsolete (much like the typewriter). Exchange cash inside a bank if possible, again they have the best rates. When you first arrive in a country, look for an ATM before you exit the terminal. If there isn’t one, then change $100 into the foreign currency for transportation into the city and incidentals. You can change more money when you get to town.

20. Learn about six or seven key words of the native language at your destination. After your smile, this is the largest currency you carry. Knowing how to say “Please”, “Thank you”, “OK”, “Hello”, “Goodbye” and “bless you” (in case someone sneezes) are essential. It usually evokes a surprised reaction from the recipient and you may even get a smile. It also helps break down barriers, erasing the “arrogant” westerner reputation.

21.
Bonus Tip: Stay curious and enjoy the ride!

Thursday, June 29, 2006

131 Sunsets


One world, one and a half tubes of toothpaste, two continents, three pairs of sunglasses, four toothbrushes, five pairs of underwear (don’t ask), seven self-shaves, 27 flights, 45 hotels, hostels, floors, friend’s homes and apartments, 131 sunsets and memories for many lifetimes. Over the past four and a half months, you’ve read about one or two, maybe more, of my experiences. Within limits, I’ve tried to add photos to fill in the blanks for what my writing failed to express.

But there are many images, moments, feelings and vistas that were not captured on film: there was the boy cycling down a Bombay street with an ice block wrapped in brown paper tethered to his bike dripping as he rode furiously to deliver it before it thawed; the core shattering experience of bathing in the Ganges with Sri Sri exchanging soulful glances and smiles while a chorus of men and women sang; Roopa’s heart reaching out and embracing me as her son; the cows on the streets in India, walking calmly in the middle of chaos; the gentleness of Saleem, the tuk tuk driver in Ft. Cochin whose relationship with his best friend Johnson serves as a model of true friendship and tolerance, transgressing stark religious differences; performing sun salutations at an ashram as we welcomed the sunrise; the battered, but resilient rikshaw driver in Saigon who fought next to the US and then was imprisoned for nine years after the war, remaining a second class citizen today; squinting, eating dust and bugs on a nighttime return motorbike ride with my sunglasses on in Hue, Vietnam; the enthusiastic and warm welcome of the dolphins heard first in my heart; meeting a determined young Muslim woman at 7-11 in Singapore who helped me understand the world infinitely better; using the net for couchsurfing in Malaysia and meeting wonderful people who went out of their way for a complete stranger; holding the head of a big cat with incisors the size of my finger in my lap; soaring over the limestone karsts in southern China; looking into the eyes of the Chinese people and seeing many warm hearts desiring to open more fully; the warm welcome of Australians and the reverse culture shock, the beauty and pristine Outback coupled with the rain forests and dramatic coastline; and common to all of the spots visited, the tremendous yellow, orange, red, sometimes purple sunsets. Everyday it was different and everyday it was beautiful.

The memories go on, and I know someday, I will need to read what I have written to remind myself about the events, places and people’s names. But there is at least one thing for which I will not have to refresh my memory. It goes back to an inspirational quote I drew after one of the Kundalini classes t the Yoga Festival in India. It read, “People may not remember what you did or said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.” That is clearer for me than ever. Scores of people from around the world greeted me with open arms with expectation of nothing in return. Twelve thousand miles from the Bay Area, I was still home.

Our planet is intimately connected. WE are intimately connected. Whether we like it or not, we are in this together, on this mound of dirt floating through dark cold space. How did we get here? How did any of this get here? I mean, there was nothing, then were dinosaurs, now there are lions, tigers, kangaroos, snakes, dolphins, spiders, gorillas, elephants, dogs, whales, ants, rats, crocodiles, koalas, polar bears, cows, sharks, monkeys, eels, thousands of bird species, pandas, humans and so much flora that it is estimated less than fifty percent has been classified. This is an amazingly intricate set-up. Mind blowing actually if you step back and put all of the pieces together.

Throughout this journey, a few themes have recurred in my thoughts time and time again. So I’ll share them here, or at least preserve them for posterity so one day I can reflect on my naïve idealism in case I should lose it. Remind me where to find if that should happen.

On Politics

Even as a kid, politics was a keen interest of mine. Looking into the windows of other countries alone did not give me insight. It was the local people who were occasionally willing to share. Some were apathetic about the situation, others were frustrated and some were hopeful for change. Most striking was the realization that only shades of gray separate most governments, including that of China and the US. Rather than complete opposites as expected, I found that China has embraced capitalism full throttle. The significant differences remaining between the two nations are largely government restrictions on individuals limiting their freedom of speech, press, religion and elections. These differences are substantial, but with the far reaching Patriot Act and White House authorized wire tapping of US citizens, the “substantial” lines become more insubstantial. As Ben Franklin is credited with saying, “They who would give up an essential liberty for temporary security, deserve neither liberty or security.”

Government corruption was rampant in many of the countries I visited. Modeled more after pyramid schemes than ratified constitutions, those in the top leadership positions dole out director, minister and state offices to the highest bidders. In Vietnam, becoming a police officer often involves knowing someone in the local government and receiving an “appointment” of sorts. Those uninterested in public service, but with great wealth often benefit from prime government contracts such as no bid airlines or construction contracts. Again, this hit close to home, reminiscent of Halliburton’s no bid government contracts in Iraq.

The Founding Fathers were wise to the dangers of a large federal government, warning that it should be kept as small as possible (there are two million civilian employees in the Federal government). Checks and balances were drafted into the Constitution to prevent abuse of power (“Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Lord Acton). Today, however, the Executive branch wields far more power than originally planned and career politicians in Congress yield to special interests contributing to their next re-election campaign (another warning by the Founding Fathers to avoid career politicians). Whether Americans are able to protect our model freedoms will depend on us. Apathy is the shadow of the burglar sneaking in to revise the Constitution.

(The White Breasted Sea Eagle. An enduring sign of freedom like it's brother, the Bald Eagle.)

I have met others that would give their every possession to live in the United States. Land of opportunity and individual freedom, it is still regarded as a special country. Erosion happens over time, sometimes years, maybe even decades, and then one day, the mountain comes crashing down. If preventative measures are taken early on, the slide can often be prevented, or its impact lessened. Such is the state of liberty. A watchful eye must be maintained on the most precious god given right for greed and power are always waiting in the wings to “watch” it for you.

On the Environment

"Only after the last tree has been cut down. Only after the last river has been poisoned. Only after the last fish has been caught. Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten." - Cree Indian Prophecy

This is a red hot button, or if you prefer cooler, more colorful imagery, the proverbial pink elephant in the room. As a species, we are on the fast track to self-destruction, taking along with us everything in our path. Modern ways of living have us more disconnected with our natural environment than ever. I don’t hunt for my meals or spend the day foraging for berries or oats, I go to Whole Foods and pluck it out of bins at the salad bar. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong about the salad bar concept, the danger lies in forgetting from where all of the healthy greens and grains originate.

Going to Safeway on Sunday to shop for the week’s food stuffs makes life easy, but building homes over fertile land in the Sacramento Valley has long term consequences as modern farming methods are employed depleting dwindling farmland of vital nutrients and ultimately lowering the nutritional value of the food we eat. Advanced planning for sustainable farming, such as that done by Russ MacDonald in the Hunter Valley, is still in its infancy. Initially it can be slightly more expensive and labor intensive to set up, but the return product is many times more nutritious than greens from soil bleached of its nutrients.

Pesticides, genetically engineered fruits and veggies, and water contamination present a dangerous course normally reserved for Mother Nature. In China, air and water pollution is out of control (one visit is a stark reminder of the importance of our Clean Air and Water Acts in the US). And it is no longer just China’s problem as particulate matter from Chinese factories is traced to winds over the US, Europe, Canada and Mexico. Third world nations are too busy trying to advance out of the 19th and 20th centuries to worry about the environmental costs of their actions. South American countries such as Brazil, Ecuador and Argentina find themselves cutting down rainforests for foreign oil companies, farmland or timber to service World Bank debt.

People on the brink of starvation or living in abject poverty are understandably less concerned with tomorrow than what they’ll eat today. However, in the process of living for today, the whole world suffers as our natural air filter, the rainforests, are sacrificed for short term gains. Rather than saddle these nations with insurmountable debt, the world should collaborate to preserve vital global resources through an international barter or trade program. Rainforest acreage lost today may never be replaced and at best, it will take thousands of years to regenerate. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I can wait that long.

Where Did All of These People Come From?

At the turn of the 20th century there were approximately 1.6 billion people on the planet. Just one hundred years later, there were 6.5 billion. The human race is growing exponentially. At the current rate, in the next 100 years, the population will increase threefold. Already we are seeing the effects of industrializing nations like China and India on natural resources. Demand for oil, steel, copper and consumer goods is rising at a rate never seen before. Such is the paradox of globalization; standards of living increase as production capacity strains finite resources.

Not that India and China don’t deserve to grow and experience increased standards of living, but such growth should be planned, measured and paced. Sustainable growth is imperative for living in a rich world. Already, the effects of overpopulation are rearing their ugly heads. Contaminated water, polluted air, gridlocked traffic, inability of production to meet world oil demand, and I would submit, the Bird Flu and Mad Cow. Mother Nature will take the controls if we fail to manage diligently. Avian influenza and Mad Cow disease are just two means of restoring balance.

Eyesores

My biggest pet peeve of the trip falls under the environmental category. At a micro level, it underscores my belief that humans have lost touch with their relationship to the environment. Failing to understand the interconnectedness of it all, the litter problem in India and China is appalling. Trash is simply everywhere, dropped in place when it is no longer useful, filling streets, rivers, the ocean and national parks with wrappers, cans, bottles, tires, old cars, etc. Ironically the same problem plagues indigenous cultures in the Amazon, the Outback and the Serengeti, whose only frame of reference for disposal is to return what was not used to the soil so that the earth may put it to use again. Unfortunately, non-biodegradable is a foreign concept to these tribes who are used to living with all natural foods, clothing and house wares.

If we fail to educate others about litter, then our chances of sharing information with them about bio-dynamic farming, sustainable growth and waste/pollution management are next to nil. They are not difficult concepts to grasp, but for the moment, most people do not feel the pain of these failures to be good stewards. Like increasing oil prices, people will not change their habits until prices hit their pocketbooks in such a manner that their quality of life diminishes. In the developed world, the impact from short sighted practices will change more slowly until people feel declines in their health and/or finances. For the peoples still trying to survive day to day in less developed nations, concern over environmental issues takes a distant backseat as they try to feed their families.

Something Smells Fishy

We are told Omega-3 fatty acids are important to our overall health. You can find it in pill form or you can actually eat a piece of salmon and get it naturally. On the flipside, some salmon species are endangered and numbers of others are rapidly decreasing such that many salmon now need to be farmed. Dyed to give them the pink color to which consumes are accustomed, farmed salmon’s nutritional value is under scrutiny. And it doesn’t stop there. We are told not to eat too much saltwater fish each week due to excessive amounts of mercury. The oceans are being treated as the world’s wasteland and alarms are bells have sounded. Spots usually bountiful with fish have gravely diminishing returns. Small fishing outfits have been put out of business and fishing villages now struggle to feed their people. Large fishing tankers have taken the lead, going into deeper waters to chase the bigger fish.

As the population grows, so too does the demand for fish. Massive fishing nets scrape along the ocean floor capturing everything in their path eliminating entire ecosystems in one fell swoop. From plankton, to little fish, bigger fish and birds, the food chain, our food chain, is under incredible strain. For now, it is generally out of sight, often leagues below the ocean surface, but critical mass is foreseeable in my lifetime. Will we be able to worm our way of that one?

Man’s Relationship to the Environment

Hoover Dam, Three Gorges Dam and the Jebel Ali Hotel, a manufactured resort island in Dubai, are just a few examples of modern man’s ability to dominate the environment, or at least, some of his grandest attempts. Changing the course of rivers, flooding valleys and scraping the ocean floor for thousands of tons of sand and rock to make a palm shaped island off the coast of Dubai. These modern marvels are large feats for rather small beings, similar to the construction of termite mounds in the Outback. But for every action, there is a reaction.
(Pictured above: Termite mound in the Outback.)

Much has been written about the damning of the Colorado River so I won’t go into that here. There is a lot more coming to light about the fallout from the new Three Gorges Dam in China. Despite flooding two cities and more than a thousand villages, the environmental impact to the pristine area has stripped it of its renowned natural splendor, further jeopardized the already endangered Yangtze dolphin, the Chinese sturgeon, tiger, alligator and the Giant Panda.

As for the pricey Jebel Ali Hotel in Dubai, you need only see video of the massive ships that scraped several meters deep into the seabed to acquire the necessary rock to create resort land in the middle of the ocean. Imagine a doctor giving you a shot with a ten inch needle so that he could get tissue for his experiment. The ocean received such a shot across miles and miles of its floor, leaving only a bare milky moonscape in its trails.

For our brief period of existence on earth, we have learned to dominate the environment, using creative engineering and construction. Thus far, nature has tolerated our tinkering around (except maybe for New Orleans), but when will she say enough is enough? Slowly, she may be saying “enough” already. Global warming may or may not be attributed to the presence of increased green house gases. Ice ages come and go and perhaps we are just on a “go” cycle. But it’s hard to believe that all of the carbons released into the atmosphere by planes, ships, autos and factories aren’t speeding things up. Even in the absence of any scientific background, it just seems to make intuitive sense.

What kind of world will we leave for future generations? An American philosopher once said, “We didn’t inherit the earth from our fathers; we’re borrowing it from our children.”

On Faith


Does God exist? Is he within each of us? Did he create us in his own image? The answer may be that it doesn’t matter. Instead, it is faith itself that actually provides strength, heals, encourages and uplifts when called upon. Faith alone could be the mental crutch we need to make it through the tough times or use to bond and unite.

Faith was the most intriguing aspect of humanity observed throughout my travels. It plays a role in almost everyone’s lives to varying degrees. Some countries wore their beliefs on their sleeves while others were more reserved. Ironically, the matter of “God” and how to worship, honor or acknowledge “him” is an issue that has divided nations, cultures and people for millennia. On many occasions it has served as the basis for bloody wars (is there any other kind?).

Spirituality and religion stared me in the face in each country visited. I don’t know if I could have started in a land with a more outwardly expressive faith. India is steeped in spirituality, with symbolic statues and pictures of Vishnu, Shiva, Krishna and Brahma in their homes and offices. Thick with ritual and ceremony, the Hindu religion permeates most aspects of Indian society.

Alongside hundreds of millions of Hindus, many Muslims remain in India as do some Buddhists, Catholics and Jains. Tolerance generally keeps the peace, but there are periods of tension such as the bombings in Varanasi just days before my arrival. And occasionally you will hear prejudice remarks from individuals casting judgment or dehumanizing members of another religion. For now, India’s progression onto the world stage as a major player seems to be keeping it’s citizens preoccupied with a greater accumulation of wealth than ever before.

In Southeast Asia and the Far East, Vietnam, Thailand and China subscribe to their own forms of Buddhism, adapted to their particular cultures over the centuries. At the Golden Temple in Thailand it was strange to see mass worship of Buddha as my understanding of Buddhism did not involve worship of Buddha, but rather a search for self-enlightenment. Like many religions, the original belief system has been modified over time. In China, Buddhism is alive, but not practiced as freely. People practice in state approved temples within pre-approved guidelines.

There are many other less mainstream religions and spiritual practices. The Aboriginese believe that all sentient beings are connected, just parts of a collective “One”. Using telepathy amongst themselves and even with dolphins, the Aboriginese use ritual and singing, similar in appearance to that of the Native American Indians. Gratitude toward the universe for its continued abundance is a regular part of morning “prayer” in the Outback.

And of course, there are organizations like the Art of Living that are spiritually based, host to people of all religions. Focusing less on faith and more on grounding and intuition, the Art of Living can be practiced in conjunction with any religion or no religion. A combination of yoga, controlled breathing and a few minutes of silence each day, it is more about looking inward for clarity.

Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, who among them is right? Is one of them more right than the others? Are all of them right? None of them right? If you are Aboriginese, you might believe that all of them are right, that each of them were human manifestations of Divinity sent down as reminders for those who had lost their way at that time in history. But most of us are not Aboriginese and deep divisions over this issue remains.

Again, back to my original question, does it really matter? For now, the answer is a deafening “yes”. Wars will continue to be waged over God vs. Allah, Jesus vs. Mohammed. If God or Allah are watching, it must be a great embarrassment to them. Here are these Divine Beings that created us, look after us and are a part of us, watching us kill each other over whose God to follow. Thank goodness, God has a sense of humor so s/he can appreciate the irony of it all.

If it were as simple as I wrote above, maybe there would be a resolution to it all, an agreement to let each individual worship their God of choice. But our fallible humanness has interfered with the basic question. The issue is no longer purely about God, it is now about the laws of men under the guise of “God”. Some men have seen fit to draft their own moral code and have attached it to a religion. Most of these laws fall under extreme sects of Christianity and Islam. And unfortunately, at the moment, it is the extreme sects that seem to have the world’s attention.

I met many wonderful Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Jains and Muslims throughout my travels. All of them were loving, warm and peaceful beings. They were hosts, guides, new friends and old friends, proving to me that religious differences do not divide people. People divide people.

Some part of religion and spirituality has to be about doing the right thing. After all, isn’t that why people study the Bible, Koran, Scriptures, Torah, Vedas and Hindu texts? In my limited understanding, at the root of it all, I think there are more similarities than differences. For example, it wasn’t until this trip when I realized that Jesus is often shown touching his third finger to his thumb in many scenes. Similarly, pictures and statues of Buddha often show him holding his hand in the same manner, touching the same two fingers.

Another example came to me sitting in a Christian church in Shanghai (only Westerners were permitted at the service) with my friend Nick. The minister was quoting a few passages from the Bible. One quote was from Matthew 18 and is abbreviated as follows:

“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 He called a little child and had him stand among them. 3 And he said, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

Jesus was reminding people not to lose touch with their inner child. This instantly reminded me of something Sri Sri often says, “be childlike”. Further I was reminded of two wise words from a Vietnamese born monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, often shared with me by a close friend. “Beginner’s mind,” she says to me, instantly reminding me to take a step back and look at the situation with fresh eyes. Each of these quotes is from different religious and spiritual sources, yet all share the same underlying message. Such is my theory on a pure comparative look at world religions. Fundamentally, they share the same destination, they just use different routes to get there.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Education is key to it all. Without it, the world will not reach its full luster. The Native Americans, the Aboriginese, the Inuit, tribes in Africa, the ancient Chinese and Egyptians knew the importance of handing down wisdom of the ages to successive generations. This art is on the verge of extinction with the advent of television, video games and the countless other distractions keeping us away from the campfires of learning.

Knowledge of “information” is a prime focus for parents, universities and employers. “How much do you know?” is tested with the help of the SAT, ACT, LSAT, MCAT and GMAT (You need a class in acronyms just to get started). With help from the ever popular internet search engine, there is so much to “know” these days that it could take you a thousand lifetimes or more to really “know” something. Plus, you know what has been said about knowledge, “a little bit of it is a dangerous thing.” And that is truer than ever. Knowledge serves as our framework, our viewpoint for everything in our lives. It is often so much a part of us that we forget it is there, serving as our prescription glasses for seeing in the world.

But often times “knowledge” is only speculation, conjecture, based on someone else’s beliefs, not founded in fact or any first hand experience for truly “knowing”. What is the result? Without shared wisdom, first hand experience or really touching the world, people first see differences rather than similarities, leading to prejudgment or prejudice. Glasses through which we see the world are not tested to reassess our prescription.

Oddly enough, my example of learning by hands on experience comes via the antiquated (maybe even obsolete) typewriter. Against my better eighth grade judgment, my Mom encouraged me to take a typing class. Sitting in front of the typewriter, I thought surely someone had played with the keys before me. Why weren’t they in alphabetical order to make it easy? The keys made no sense. Do you remember thinking that the first time you sat before a keyboard (maybe you still do)?

Eight weeks into the class, my fingers began to accept the keys in their preset places. By the end of class I no longer questioned the placement of the keys and in fact, depended on them to be where I last left them. During my travels, I had occasion to come across a keyboard with some foreign characters on the keyboard where I did not expect. At the time, it was confusing and frustrating that the keys were not in their “proper” locations. Was it me? Or did the keyboard need readjusting? While I would like to suggest it was the keyboard, clearly it was me. As in the eighth grade, my prescription for seeing the keyboard needed to be adjusted once again.

Such is the case with the keyboard of life. It requires tune-ups with the times, newly learned wisdom and experience. Eyesight changes with time and so should insight. Both can benefit from new prescriptions from time to time.

Isn’t that one of the reasons children are so treasured in all cultures? Their insight is pure of heart, reminding us of a time when the world was simpler for us. They are honest, nonjudgmental and call a spade a spade without filtering their thoughts. Maybe that is why Jesus, Sri Sri and Thich Nhat Hanh remind us to be “childlike” with a “beginner’s mind”?

So why did I place these paragraphs on knowledge under religion? Because our “knowledge” of religions is dividing the world in ways that threaten humanity and every living being on the planet. People stand behind “knowledge” of God or Allah as justification for many acts that seem anything but God like. Shooting doctors who perform abortions at their homes or walking into a line of people waiting to apply for jobs with a suicide bomb attached to you is far from God, Allah or any other Divine being. How is it that these individuals believe their actions are in the name of God?

They believe it usually for one or two reasons. First and foremost is the failure of their society to offer them a secular education (sometimes because the country does not have the resources). And the second reason is that years of reckless and short sighted foreign policies in the West have made us a natural target. You cannot understand the state of the affairs in the world today without first knowing the detailed world history of the past hundred years.

So a heavenly irony continues. Wars will be fought, everyone will lose and a few men will continue to spin religion for less than altruistic pursuits, all in the name of “God” or “Allah”. In the meantime, I can’t help feeling that the point of it all is being missed and religious zealots continue to weave a tangled web of hypocrisy.

Having seen and visited the temples, mosques or churches of the religions mentioned above, I have barely scratched the surface of understanding and still place myself in the category of knowing nothing. However, that said, clarity for me is in knowing that I need not subscribe to one religion; rather I can live by good general principles and I am likely to be in line with all of them in their purest form (as one person I met traveling described me “a world religion guy”). Be good to others, do what you agree to do, acknowledge the good in others, recognize the abundance in your life, be grateful for each moment, see the lesson in the mist of dark valleys, be in the present, let your love flow freely and have faith in that which gives you strength and nourishes your soul.


On People

“Be careful. Watch your bags. So and so was pick pocketed (or mugged) there,” were some of the warnings I heard over and over again before and during my travels. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them before most trips I’ve taken. It was said out of love and concern. What I’ve come to realize however, is that people all around the world often perceive areas with which they are not familiar as more dangerous than their native surroundings.

What do you think Italians say to each other before they head to New York? Or what do Sudanese tell each other before traveling to Miami? I would venture a guess that they receive advice on being “careful” on their journeys. Traveling to other countries can create anxiety, but the more you do it, the more you begin to realize that, for the most part, people are good. They want to help, love hearing about your home country, enjoy sharing their life stories and connecting with new people.

Somewhere in the process of growing up (probably on the playground when your favorite toy disappears never to be seen again), a healthy dose of skepticism forms to protect us from being taken advantage of by others. Then somewhere between CNN, CSI, COPS, and Poltergeist, an excessive dose is added and poof, you have a fear overdose. Failure to turn back the fear dial leads to international (sometimes even national) travel paralysis. My main point in all of this is to say that at the beginning we all started as one, even the land now separate by oceans was once one. A world map worth the paper it’s printed on looks like a continental puzzle as it should.

Sitting face-to-face with people from all over the world, from different religions, races, cultures, languages and backgrounds reminded me that we really are more alike than not. It’s just that differences are sometimes easier to see because we are used to the similarities and weary of the unfamiliar. Open mind, open heart, good intentions and chocolate leads to more friends in an increasingly small world. Got chocolate (substitute beer if you want German friends; wine for French friends; anything alcoholic for Irish friends)? You’ve got friends.

Next Chapter

When did we last see each other? What has gone on in your life since I’ve been gone? Have you caught a sunset or two? Gone to the ocean for a breath of fresh air? Stared out over mountain vistas taking in the magnitude of it all? Laid on the ground under the night sky scanning for shooting stars or searching for the Big Dipper (or Southern Cross for Southern Hemisphere folks)? Or maybe you’ve sat back in your desk chair, smiling as you thought about all the people in your life that fill you with joy?

When I last left you, I ventured into the world seeking both inner and outer discovery. I wondered what lay beyond my realm of reality. Focused on school and then career, I felt there was something missing, unfinished business of sorts. Planning the trip, I focused on the outer journey, places to visit, route to take, budget and weather. I left the inner journey to unfold like an inflatable raft slowly being pumped with air.
(A sign in Alice Springs, Australia. I didn't write it.)

And fill with air it has. I’m not ready to navigate down the Colorado just yet, but the world has shared generously with me. Good fortune has walked with me on this path. Each morning I awake with gratitude, wondering why I am on this journey in new lands. I can’t say that it is much clearer to me now, but I am confident time will tell . . . it always does. What does the future hold for me? I have no idea.

The Greatest Gift

I don’t remember where I saw the quote or who said it, but for me, it is the best lesson of my journey. I may have known it before, but I understand and feel it even more now. Some of the realization came from exercises at the ashram, some of it from Roopa, some from helpful strangers, and the rest from the winds of those quiet moments I stood alone looking over mountain vistas, turquoise oceans and camping in the Outback desert. Apart from the political, environmental, faith and human lessons, it stands out as one of the most important beliefs we as humans could hold dear. To do so would surely make the world a better place. I find the best quotes are simple (mostly because I can remember them) and this one does not disappoint:

“The greatest gift is to love. The second is to be loved.”

Even if you don’t have two nickels to rub together, you still have the most prized possession in your heart. Loving is a deliberate choice. It is a conscious decision we can choose to make each day. Throughout my journal entries, I’ve asked how we can make the world a better place or change a bleak course. The answer, the only answer as I see it, is to start with you, me, each one of us. Overly simplistic, perhaps, but within the realm of control.

Chances are you are not reading this because you are enthralled with what I am doing, but rather because you desire to fulfill your own hopes, dreams and aspirations. What will your legacy be? What footprint will you leave? In your last days on earth, what will you remember, regret not doing, miss most, smile about? If you haven’t done it yet, start now because now is all we really have. Tread lightly and share your greatest gift along the way . . . I’m right behind you.

May your greatest gift be returned to you tenfold.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Dive! Dive!

Jacques Cousteau Lookout
(Sorry no pics for this section, camera was left on land as it is hydrophobic. There was supposed to be a digital dive camera, but it decided to go on strike during our trip.)

Making my way down to Queensland on the eastern coast of Australia, I found myself in pursuit of a long desired goal, learning how to scuba without my tuba. Within hours of setting foot into Cairns, I was in ProDive signing on for a five day scuba course involving two days of pool and theory and three days of open water diving on the Great Barrier Reef, one of the seven natural wonders of the world and the only living organism visible from space. While snorkeling had been satisfying thus far, I was ready to take it to the next level. What better place to do it than the Great Barrier Reef?

The next five days involved early mornings, hours of video watching, instruction, test taking, and finally underwater skills. With a fifteen foot deep pool, the class of seven started with baby steps, learning how to connect the tank, BCD (buoyancy control device), weight belt, regulator and back up regulator. Each minute we were bing flooded with new information, from emergency “out-of-air procedures” to two hundred meter practice swims against a faux current. Like sponges, we absorbed as much as we could, knowing that in just two days, we would be ninety kilometers out to sea where the safety of the pool would be replaced for the open waters of the Pacific Ocean.

After two days of using the “buddy system” and swapping regulators underwater, the group grew closer. By D-Day (stands for dive day), we left the marina at 6:30 a.m. for a three hour boat ride to the outer reef. While it wasn’t the three hour tour of Gilligan’s Island, the trip out to the dive spot seemed to take years as the choppy waters made for a stomach tossing ride. Thankfully, we were informed beforehand that twenty five knot winds would leave many of us ideal candidates for chumming so we stocked up on sea sickness pills.

Arriving at our first dive spot, the white caps on the open waters were persistent reminders that we were no longer in the shallow end. Within fifteen minutes, we suited up, going through our buddy checks, planning our dive activities, timing and direction. Our first dive would be close knit as a group, using one of the boat’s anchor lines to descend to the ocean floor. Two by two, we did a deep water entry into mildly cold reef waters, equalizing our way down to the underwater world.

Just a meter below the surface, all of your senses change, from your visibility to your hearing to your inability to breath through your nose. Sixteen meters below, the group assembled in a circle around the instructor for performing drills we had previously practiced in the fresh water pool. In salt water, things were different, especially tearing off your mask for an eye stinging minute and then placing it back on your face, emptying all of the water from it in the process. Drill by drill, the group worked through the exercises. Dan, the instructor was top notch, having been on more than 2,500 dives, we were in experienced hands.

Thirty minutes into our first dive, it was time to ascend back to the surface, leaving a minimum of fifty bar of air in our tanks in case of emergency. Back on the dive deck, the group congratulated each other on our first open water dive, complete with reef and fearless colorful fish. It was almost as good as getting your driver’s license for the first time, a sense of freedom, opening a door into another world. The Great Barrier Reef was no longer a barrier.

Three more dives, involving skill tests, and back on deck we were officially PADI certified open water divers. More celebration would follow before intense moments in the dark of night. There were five remaining voluntary dives over the remaining day and a half. All of us still electrified from completing our certification, we were eager to get in the water and explore at every opportunity. One such opportunity was a night dive, descending into the black waters with only a flashlight in hand.

On our night for diving, the moon was new, nowhere to be seen in the star filled sky. Looking down into the dark, normally turquoise waters, our mission seemed more mercenary than fun diving. Suited up, we again used the boat’s line to descend. Without the torch, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your mask. It was now an essential piece of equipment.

Fumbling around in the dark, yet another side of the underwater world was disrobed. Creatures of the dark, normally hiding during the day, were actively charging around the reef, feeding on nutrients in the water. Colors, already brilliant during the day, took on even more intensity as the torch light shone on them. It was a complete reversal of fish out of water.

No longer guided by Dan since we were now certified, the buddy pairs swam around the boat area, sticking close as the limitations of the torch kept us relatively inexperienced divers close to our floating home. Most of the group returned to the dive deck a few minutes early with extra air in our tanks. However, thirty-five minutes from our dive start, one team had not yet returned. By Dan’s calculations they had enough air for forty-five minutes to fifty-minutes. At forty minutes after the dive start, Dan began suiting up for entry and the crew began to shine spot lights across the water’s surface in the hope that they had surfaced nearby

Still no sign at forty-five minutes, Dan entered the water and the crew stopped every other boat activity, from dinner prep to bar tending, to focus on the search efforts. As Dan entered the water, another master diver began preparations for his entry. A calm undercurrent of panic, portrayed as concern came over the crew. Then, in a New York minute, voices were heard from somewhere on the surface. The boat fell silent as we tried to determine the direction from where the sound was originating. “It’s coming from the front of the boat!” one of the crew shouted.

Dan swam to the front, while the crew members with lights rushed to the front, our dive group closely behind. The two guys from Ireland were safe, but had gotten lost in a changing current, drifting in a different direction than anticipated. A huge sigh of relief came over the dive party and soon a different kind of party, led by none other than the Irishmen, was underfoot on board.

Breaking through the proverbial “glass” floor (ocean waters) unlocks grand doors of incredible flora and sea creatures. Fish I had never heard of swam circles around me, peering out of their eyes firmly planted on opposite sides of their head. New colors and sounds combined for a serene journey into an underwater ballet of sea creatures. My access to the world had grown exponentially in just five short days.

Where the Forest Meets the Sea



Before the US gained its Independence, before Shakespeare wrote Romeo & Juliet, before Columbus “discovered” America, before Jesus was born, before the origin of humankind, before dinosaurs roamed the planet, there was a forest already millions of years of old. Believed to be the oldest rainforest in the world, the Daintree National Park is estimated to be more than 130 million years old. Qualifying for World Heritage listing in all five categories, the park is nestled between the northeastern side of the Great Dividing Range and the Great Barrier Reef. The area has the rare distinction of hosting two adjacent World Heritage sights (Daintree Rainforest and Great Barrier Reef).

Back on land from the dive trip, I made my way up the coast, heading further north, closer to the famed Cape Tribulation. Named by Captain Cook after his ship ran onto the reef just off the Cape (from the phrase “trials and tribulations”), today only sheer beauty is forced upon the visitor. The ancient rain forest runs from the high mountains in the Great Dividing Range straight into the sea. Mangroves, of which there are only seventy in the world (thirty of which are in Australia), grow on the beach, roots exposed high above the sand and salt water for air supply.

Pictures do not do Cape Tribulation justice (especially mine). Walking through the primitive rainforest, trees that preceded much of human history stand firm, wrapped in thick vines awaiting Tarzan’s call. Each day the forest and the sea perform their roles dutifully. In twenty-four hour cycles, the ocean lends its water to the passing clouds, which in turn drop it into the nearby forest, which then returns the fresh water to the sea. It is a mini, but very real version of the earth’s air filter.

Sitting on the sand at the edge of the forest, everything seemed to make sense. Nature’s unwritten contract was on the big screen of life for all to see:

“You give us water,” says the clouds, “and we’ll remove the salt and carry it to the forest.”

“Drop your water here if you like,” offers the forest, “and we’ll clean it, make nutrients for insects and, thereby birds, crocodiles and fish.”

“What you don’t use, give it back to me with all of the new oxygen, I’ll share it with the sea creatures and then return it to you when you are ready for more,” signals the ocean.

Every character contributes its efforts to make one global play. Apart from the natural beauty of Cape Trib and the Daintree rainforest is the beautiful and quite miraculous eco-synergy immediately apparent to the beholder. One deep inhale and a slow exhale is the just the beginning for an urbanite’s detox.

The rainforest and Cape Trib do have camping and minimal lodging, but leave your hairdryer at home as there is no electricity north of the Daintree River. Permanent residents rise and set with the sun for the most part. Even though it has been “discovered”, the World Heritage area is unlikely to see any growth or development in the future. There are still some pristine parts of the planet where we have managed to do the right thing, preserving the sensitive habitat for generations to come.

The Dream Catcher (epilogue to “Lost in the Fields of Dreams”)

The morning after writing about my dream conversation with my grandmother, I searched the net to find accommodations for a few nights in Port Douglas, a quaint seaside town about sixty kilometers south of Cape Trib. I booked a room through a local Australian website (much like Expedia) and packed my bag once again. Catching a bus northward, I ran through my mental checklist of things to do and see for my remaining days in Queensland.

Even after arriving at the apartment I had rented and meeting the owner, John, it still did not dawn on me. It was only after entering the apartment and seeing it hanging next to my bed that the irony forced a smile across my face. “Are you kidding me?” I asked myself silently.

Without realizing it, or drawing any connection, I rented a room at the “Dream Catcher Apartments” complete with Aboriginal dream catcher hanging from the ceiling next to my bed. Opening the equivalent of a “Hotel Services” folder found in most hotel rooms, the folder for the Dream Catcher was much different. Rather than talk about the pool, gymnasium, internet, room service menu or childcare facilities, it contained a quote from the book Mutant Message Down Under. While I had heard of the book I had never read it, but was now intrigued to pick it up and at a minimum, thumb through the pages.

The following morning I went to the Sunday market to grab brecky and see local arts and crafts. Boomerangs, digeridoos, hand blown glass, copper sculptures and flower stalls lined the grassy marina front. On one particular stall, a tent extended from a VW bus. Under it, a woman in a chair was engrossed in a book in her lap. Not wanting to bother her, I scanned the small used book collection apparently organized by author. I didn’t see it as I walked around the fold out table.

In the interest of time, I interrupted her page turning, “Excuse me, do you have Mutant Message Down Under?”

“Look on the table in front of you,” she said curtly.

“Well, are they alphabetized by author or title?”

“Look on the table in front of you,” she said again.

Bam, there it was lying on the table directly in front of me. I thumbed through the pages as planned, eventually deciding that, given the synchronicity of events, I should part with the six dollars to give it a more careful review. And though I am not finished with the light reading, the following excerpt is from page 116. Reflecting upon dream feedback she was given by a “Spirit Woman” in the Aboriginal tribe with whom she lived, the author, Marlo Morgan, wrote the following:

“I came to the understanding that there would be some storms in my life, that people and things I had invested a lot of time and energy into were going to be laid aside, but now I knew what it felt like to be a centered, peaceful being, and I had that emotion to draw upon anytime I needed or wanted it. I learned that I could live more than one life in a lifetime and that I had already experienced the closing of a door. I learned that a time had come where I could no longer stay with the people, the location, the values and beliefs I held. For my own soul growth I had gently closed a door and entered a new place, a new life that was equal to a step up a spiritual rung on a ladder. And most important, I did not have to do anything with the information. If I simply lived the principles that appeared to be truth for me, I would touch the lives of those I was destined to touch. The doors would be opened. After all ‘it’ was not my message, I was merely the messenger.”

Passed down in smoke filled tents through generations, the Aboriginese vigilantly shared the wisdom and experience of living with their youth. It was essential to their survival. Where to hunt, fish, find water, sleep and seek guidance were all a part of their dreams, sometimes asleep, other times awake in a deep meditation.

Are we dreaming today? What are we dreaming about? Are our day dreams scrambled by external influences distracting us from what is really important? And if we are unable to get in touch with our real dreams, how do we grow, fulfill our destinies or climb the ladder? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe there is more than one route to the same destination, or then again, maybe there is no destination, it’s just the journey.

Dream big.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Getting Lost in the Field of Dreams

Have you ever waken up still engulfed in a heavy dream? Maybe it leaves you lingering in a fog, the lines between reality and surreality blurred halfway through your first cup of jo? Perhaps there are even a few dreams you remember for a long time or go so far as to influence your conscious actions (e.g. maybe take the time to tell someone you love them, extend a helping hand to someone in need, approach a situation with more compassion)?

I don’t often have dreams when I sleep, or if I do, I rarely remember them, but since my arrival in the Northern Territory, my mind has been the screen for vivid and memorable nocturnal montages. Science has spent decades exploring the depths of the human subconscious searching for explanations behind the dream phenomenon. About all that really seems to be known at this stage, is that the subconscious is intricate, complex and integral to our conscious mind’s health.

Asleep in my room at Chili’s Backpacker hostel, I awoke abruptly from a deep sleep. Rolling onto my side, I reached for my red travel clock on the floor. It was 3:45 a.m., just a few minutes before I needed to be out the door to the Darwin Airport. Before rushing out of bed as usual, I laid back down on the blue sheets in the dark room still warm from the sub-tropical heat of the prior day. Moments ago I had been deeply involved in a conversation with my grandmother and now I was trying to separate fact from fiction.

“I missed you,” I recall saying, “it is so good to see you.” I hugged her tightly, more consumed by the feelings of seeing her again, than the surrealness of it all. She had died six years ago this month.

“I missed you too,” she said smiling, returning my squeeze, looking happy and healthy.

“Remember Quinn (my old dog) and how he used to love you?” I reminisced as visions of him lying flat on his back next to her flashed through my mind.

“Oh yes, he was such a good dog,” she said fondly, “but now you have to come visit Mr.Livingston?”

Huh? Who is Mr. Livingston and how did he get into this dream? It was as if she was inviting me to visit her new dog in Idaho where she was now residing, completely missing my point of talking about the old days. My dream Grandmother remembered the past, but was clearly living in the present.

Emotions still running high, I tried to make sense of the dream, partly Captain Kirk, entertaining the idea I had just met with my grandmother, and partly Mr. Spock, trying to figure out why I was dreaming about her. Was there something in the recesses of my mind trying to tell me something? Or are dreams a medium for the spirit world to communicate with the living? Or is it just as simple as our minds process and file a lot material while we sleep? And if so, why dream about her now?

I was reminded of another part of my conversation with Chris, the guesthouse proprietor in the Hunter Valley. Over dinner she had shared her vivid dreams of her late husband even two years after his death. In one of her last memorable dreams, she was a waitress at a restaurant. Her husband was a customer at one of her tables. She recognized him immediately and went to the table to greet him and take his order. However, even after being prompted, he no longer recognized her. In his eyes, she was another waitress taking his order.

Waking from the dream, Chris wondered what the dream meant. Was it just a dream? Or did it signify something more? She interpreted it to mean that her husband had moved on and now she should too. Perhaps it was a way of self-healing, moving past or coping with the loss of a loved one. When other people have shared their dreams with me, they report being visited by loved ones reassuring them that they are “ok” shortly after their death

In my dream, my Grandmother was warm, affectionate, but not embroiled in the past, living in the present. Maybe none of it has to do with her, rather it was my subconscious finding a means to process something consciously. For the Aboriginese of the Northern Territory, dreaming plays a central role in their culture. Many sites considered sacred (photographs prohibited) are “dream centers”, once used by tribal leaders to communicate with their ancestors. Their dreams would give them guidance on the next location for a roving village or where to find needed resources.

(Aboriginese call this part of Uluru the "Brain" for obvious reasons. It is not a sacred sight where photos are not permitted.")

A rich cultural history of dreams is not limited to the Aboriginese. In an effort to locate the reincarnated Dalai Lama after his passing, the Tibetans rely in part on visions in dreams. The Native American Indians found dreams of such import that some tribes hung what was called a “dreamcatcher” above the area where they slept. And the list of dreamers goes on, from the Zulu tribe in Africa to the Shamans in Amazonia, dreams played an integral role in their society.

So, why I am dreaming more now? Am I just remembering them because I am less preoccupied with the stresses of daily life? Or is it because I am in a sacred area honored for thousands of years as an important spiritual center. Or is it something more scientific and logical? The Aboriginese, Tibetans and Native American Indians were around long before western culture and they thrived for thousands of years, living as a part of the land with long term sustainability, not short sighted gain. By moving at relative lightning speed from Industrial to Internet Revolution, are we losing access to another native portal for wisdom?

I don't know the answers to the above. Maybe it is a part of the large percentage of our minds that we often hear is not being used. You know, scientists tell us "we only use 10% of our brains." Well, what's going on with the other 90%? Perhaps I should ask Mr. Livingston, or better yet, I think I'll sleep on it.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

A Dingo Ate Your Baby?


This Isn't the Steakhouse For Which You Are Looking

You’re more likely to find Roo, Emu, Camel or Croc burgers than you are to find an actual Outback Steakhouse in the real Outback. In fact, if you ask most Australians about the meaty chain, they’ll most likely give you a quizzical tilt of the head. Down Under, the “Outback” means a lot more than a large selection of steak entrees and spuds with chives and sour cream, it is a part of the country’s rich Aboriginal history. A vast expanse of rural terrain comprising more than seventy-five percent of the country, it is only host to ten percent of the population, mainly descendants of indigenous peoples.

Boyhood imagination knowing no bounds, I always wanted to walk amongst the bush of the untamed land, preferably with an ability to mellow animals with my stare. (“Crocodile Dundee here I come!”) From Melbourne, I caught a flight to Ayers Rock (Aboriginal name: Uluru), touted as the largest monolith on the planet. (What is a monolith you ask? I forgot so Ask Jeeves.) Uluru is believed to have begun forming under a sea bed approximately four hundred million years ago (give or take a few million). As early as fourteen thousand years ago, the Aboriginese lived in our around this sacred rock, as is evidenced by cave drawings still visible today. Technically, Uluru and hundreds of thousands of acres surrounding it belong to the indigenous peoples, but the tribes have given the Australian government a ninety-nine year lease for tourism (probably after a big night of drinking - more on that below).

For my first foray into the bush, I found an adventure tour company to show me the ropes for three days in the wild. I met twelve other explorers at the airport and we headed to a tent camp for the night, but not before catching our first glimpse of the main attraction at sunset. Unfortunately, Uluru was no longer an Aboriginal secret as bus loads of tourists packed into the parking lot for their photo opp with the rock as it changed colors at dusk. Hundreds of onlookers aimed their cameras, ready to rapidly fire off fifty digital shots in the hopes of having at least one with the brilliant orange and purple sunset hues. Low on the horizon, bone chilling winds began to blow and only the determined remained outside, away from the warmth of their waiting comfy coaches.
(Uluru at Sunset)

Returning to camp, an unexpected intergalactic body put on a splendid surprise appearance in full force. On the black horizon, a full moon rose, illuminating the desertscape so much so that the trees cast shadows on the white sand. At the direction of our experienced trip leader, Nevelle, the group sprung into action, lighting a big campfire and starting the initial preparations for dinner. This was not the deluxe tour where dinner was served on bone china in the Serengetti, this was the cut, cook and clean up after yourself tour. Nine Australians, two French, one German and one American made it happen like a well rehearsed team. Breaking out the chores equitably, it was a fun group, that enjoyed the work by talking about the world, places visited and of course, the World Cup.

It was on this first night that I would finally learn the origin for the saying made famous by Elaine on Seinfeld. Apparently, “A dingo ate my baby,” was a defense used by Mrs. Chamberlain in 1980 when her child disappeared from a campsite near Uluru. Her daughter, Azaria, was never seen again and a jury did not buy the “dingo” story so they found her guilty and Mrs. Chamberlain was sent to prison. Six years later, by another freak death (tourist falling from the top of Uluru into a dingo lair) police discovered clothing evidence, indicating that in fact a dingo (wild dog) had eaten Mrs. Chamberlain’s baby. Mrs. Chamerlain was immediately released and promptly sued the government, winning $1.3 million AUD for wrongful imprisonment.

Day two of the tour involved a second chance to see the full moon as Nevelle gave a gentle bang on each tent at 6 a.m. (still dark in the winter). Once again, the group fell in line, preparing a quick brekky before moving out to watch the sunrise at Uluru. Wind biting at my nose, I jumped around to keep warm begging the sun to make its return. At nine below Celsius, the sun seemed to take its own sweet time cresting over the horizon. When the sun finally did make its appearance, its rays turned a brown Uluru to a bright orange red. For a special and rare treat, the moon decided to hang out a little longer and we were witness to a simultaneous sunrise and “moonset”. “Is this the Outback or Mars?” I asked myself, as the grand full moon slowly slipped behind the red earth of Uluru.


After circumambulating Uluru and an obligatory stop at the “Cultural Center” (read tourist trap), we packed up camp and headed for a new campsite several hundred kilometers away near King’s Canyon. Along the way we were treated to a few “roadhouses” or local pubs, most frequently serving “Road Train” drivers making long hauls across the empty desert. A “Road Train” is basically an 18 wheeler (semi), with two additional trailers attached. They are basically semi-trailers on steorids with a whopping 62 wheels, something you might see in Mad Max, only they are very real and often hit speeds upwards of eighty miles per hour. Locals issue warnings to naïve tourists free of charge, “do not get in the way of a road train, they don’t stop for nothin’.”

Curtin Springs was our first roadhouse/pub/RV park/cattle ranch/restaurant/shop. It was a cattle town of about 1.2 million acres as advertised. The roadhouse was where it all happened, if anything was happening. Our group strolled in for some tough decision-making, which exorbitantly priced ice cream to buy. Four locals, leather brim hats capping their crowns for more than the "Dundee" effect, occupied four stools at the bar, each with his own “stubby”(beer bottle) before him. This was the shack to put down a few cold ones, talk about the weather, the livestock or the latest road kill.

Ordering ice cream would not be easy as this was the chance for the shop owners to harass the city slickers in a jovial manner. Ask what an abbreviated sign means, that’ll cost you twenty cents, no joke. Signs with funny country bumpkin sayings littered the walls and ceiling like a bad dentist’s office (is there such thing as a good one?) The place had lots of character and characters, making for a more eventful pit stop.

Arriving at our campsite near King’s Canyon, the group again worked well together, this time building an even bigger fire with wood we collected along the drive. Another evening of campfire sharing (enhanced with free box wine (red and white)) ensued before all retired to their tents.

Next morning, we started an early hike up, into and around King’s Canyon with a depth one third that of the Grand Canyon. Submerged beneath the sea millions of years ago, fossilized crustaceans can be seen frozen in time embedded in the rock surrounding the canyon rim. Another Mars like landscape, sand dunes, turned rock mounds, dot the canyon rim after almost two billion years of wind and rain compaction. Walking around park, the saying “older than dirt” took on a very real meaning.

Closing out my time with the group tour, our 4WD bus took us over 260 kilometers of an extremely rocky unsealed road known as the Merengue Loop. At the end of the rough ride, the group imbibed in libations and played pool at a local watering hole. Another bus arrived to take me and three other group members to Alice Springs, the nearest town with an airport. Parting was bittersweet as nine members of the group continued on for two more days, while four of us moved on to new adventures.
(Nev and I say goodbye.)

Never Leave Home Without It

Early the next morning I flew to Darwin, the largest city in the Northern Territory, which really didn’t seem that large. Fortunately for me it was a Thursday night, which meant the Mindil Beach night market would be in full swing. Just before sunset, I shared one of the famed Mindil Beach sunsets with many picnickers drinking wine on blankets and beach chairs. Orange, red, yellow, pink, purple, the setting sun’s colors stretched across the ocean’s surface to shore. It was a beautiful start to a fun evening. (Sunset at Mindil.)

Twenty feet off the beach, the festive Thursday night market was getting underway. A food stall named “Road Kill” served just about every animal I had seen alongside the Aussie roads. Croc kebab, Roo burger, Emu sandwich, you name it, this stall had it. But the food scene at the market went much further than the local asphalt lickers. Stalls sold tasty cuisine from around the world, be it Ethiopian, Greek, Chinese, Italian, American, Mexican, German and French. And with your favorite dish in hand, rows of handicraft stalls lined the footpath with local made goods from Aboriginal and Aussie artists alike. One stall even provided a “whipping” show, where different Outback cowboys would lash two whips at a time while strobe lights flashed on the quick moving leather. This was an art and food festival, Northern Territory style.

Figuring I needed all the mind clarity possible to stay on the right, I mean left, side of the road for the more than 1,000 kilometer trip into the Outback, I bypassed the after market festivities opting instead for some sleep before my self-drive camping excursion the following morning. Having had a taste for the great outdoors on tour, I wanted to experience it solo, with no prophylactic between me and the Outback. The most important precaution I could take to ensure success was planning.

I was up early the next morning, combing through my gear and supplies. The forecast called for a dry, temperate eighty degrees. Water, check, bread, check, peanut butter, always, headlamp, check, skeeter repellant, check, Aussie dollars, check, breakfast bars, check, clean underwear, nevermind. Everything seemed in order, and what I didn’t have, I could do without. Confident in my preparations, I marched down to the rental company to claim my 4WD. It was ready for me, gassed up, clean and ready to get dirty. I plopped down my credit card and driver’s license at the request of the rental agent completing the rental contract.

“Um, when does your license expire?” she asked.

“2008,” I replied.

“But it says 2003.”

I began to see my Outback adventure swirl around the drain. While I had no trouble renting a car in Sydney, “Thrifty Rent-A-Car” was requiring me to be in possession of a valid driver’s license. Totally ludicrous, right? (Wink) Having forgotten that I lost my wallet the night before my trip and therefore my current license along with it, I was carrying an old expired license. Oops, MAJOR SNAG. I had spent hundreds of dollars flying to Darwin, gearing up and now my trip hung in the balance on the minor detail of a driver’s license, something I could not solve overseas.

For all intents and purposes I was dead in the water. My only move was to plead like a whimpering puppy with the most honest harmless face I could muster. “Oh, shoot, I forgot that I was carrying that license. You see, the night before my trip I lost my wallet with my current license. I had this one as a spare, but I can assure you that I have a valid license that expires in 2008." As the words left my mouth, I didn't even believe myself, and it was the truth.

“I’m sorry I cannot rent to you. If the police pull you over and you don’t have a valid license, they will find fault with the company for renting a car to you.”

Darn, she was making a lot of sense, and I had nothing with which to counter. That was it, I was finished. One last plea, “I will drive very safely the whole way, two hands on the wheel. Plus I hear there are no speed limits in the Outback so why would I get pulled over?”

Not looking up from behind the desk, her fingers resumed typing in the computer. I figured she was canceling my reservation and I would now have to join a tour which would not leave until the following morning. One day lost and a few hundred dollars gone to waste. “The car is parked over there,” she said pointing to the white 4WD across the parking lot, “I’m not supposed to do this, but you seem responsible.”

“Oh, yes, I will take the greatest of care, thank you so much,” I said halfway out the door before a sense of job security prevailed and she changed her mind.

Fast on the road out of Darwin, windows down, hair blowing in the warm wind like a wild fire, my first stop was Litchfield National Park. (Below: Kids, do not attempt this stunt at home, it can lead to grave bodily injury. The driver pictured has rehearsed this stunt at least once.) Home to Florence, Tolmer and Wangi waterfalls, the Territory’s newest park is lush with green trees and a thriving bird and bat population. Swimming holes provide respite for overheated travelers when the “salties” (salt water crocodiles) are not around. On my visit, Wangi was closed for swimming as salties loomed in the depths of the appealing jungle pool. Still, Wangi did not disappoint, as a stellar sunset from the top of the falls gave me a front and center seat overlooking the park lowlands.

Before retiring to my tent for the night, I laid on the ground beneath the brilliant star filled sky. The Southern Cross was directly overhead and the Milky Way was thick with tiny stars normally not seen from the bright cities. Contemplating the magnitude of the universe, nothing seemed real, it was as if I was in a planetarium waiting for Pink Floyd to start playing. But everything was real, as real as it was in the late 1970s from the Yosemite trails when I backpacked with my Dad and Uncle. Of course, then I watched the sky intently, scanning for satellites and shooting stars, but now two decades later, I was trying to figure out how it wall fit/came together.

Well rested, the next morning I made a non-stop bid for Nitmiluk National Park, 270 kilometers south of Litchfield. Home to Katherine Gorge, I planned on kayaking for a half day down the Katherine River which meant I would need to get to the park by noon. In the absence of speed limits, that proved not to be a problem. At 170 kilometers per hour on the open road, long distances become much shorter. And ignorance sometimes is bliss as I pretended not to know the conversion of kilometers to miles per hour, two hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the roadside for unwilling road kill candidates.

With half an hour to spare, I pulled into the kayak shop to claim my vessel. Sunscreen applied and camera in a dry can (I sound so responsible all of a sudden), I set out onto a river so pristine that you can still drink the water, a rare treat these days. For three hours I paddled up river between the red canyon walls, portaging my kayak twice around rocky points where the gorge narrowed. It did not have the rush of the Colorado River to be sure, but it was beautiful, scenic and sparsely visited, save the occasional patio boat tour for the tour bus crowd. Nitmulik Park had the advantage of being far enough from Darwin that less people were willing to make the journey, thereby preserving its native habitat.
(Kayaking on the Katherine.)

Katherine, the third largest town in the Northern Territory, was not so pristine. In fact the three cities I visited in the Territory were economically depressed. Sadly, the largest sufferers of unemployment and alcoholism were the Aboriginal people, who seemed to be treated as second class citizens in the towns I visited. Comparisons cannot help but be made between the Aboriginese and the Native Americans. For 14,000 years, the Aboriginese inhabited Australia, but in the last 230, European explorers knowingly and unknowlingly contributed to their demise.

Alcoholism is rampant throughout the indigenous peoples now struggling to find their place in a modern fast paced world that has left them in the dark ages. Over the past fifteen years, some Supreme Court rulings have found in favor of Aboriginal tribes claiming that their land was unjustly taken from them. In some cases, the land has been returned to the tribal councils and in other cases, tribes have received remuneration for their loss. In either case, it appears that the majority of Aboriginal people have lost out, robbed of their land and now their culture vanishing into the abyss, joining the ghosts of the Inuit, Native Americans and Shuar cultures, to name a few.

Depressed town of Katherine in my rear view mirror, I was again full steam ahead toward my final national park in the Northern Territory, Kakadu. The world's second largest national park, is home to 280 bird species, 55 fresh water fish, 60 native mammals and 1,000s of plants and insects. It has the rare distinction of being both a Natural and Cultural World Heritage site.

With a short time to see it all and a few key road closures, I refused to travel the long distance without seeing two of the main attractions, Jim Jim and Twin Falls. A ranger explained that the 4WD roads to the falls were closed to all through traffic and the only way to see the falls was by air. Having left my wings at home, I found my way to Kakadu Air, where the only peanuts served are those you bring yourself. Deep in Kakadu, a dirt runway was home to one six-seater plane whose sole purpose was to give the die-hard waterfall junkies aerial views of the gushers.

("This is your co-pilot speaking, strap yourself in, it's going to be a bumpy ride . . . because I don't know how to fly.") Getting through security was a breeze, the safety demonstration was non-existent (fasten your seat-belts) and six people were soon taxiing down the red dirt road for takeoff. Watching the pilots every move from the co-pilots seat, I felt more at ease than usual knowing that any moment I could probably take the “wheel” and keep us in the air, at least until fuel ran out (yeah, right). Liftoff was smooth and at 1,000 feet over the park, it was truly a bird’s eye view.

(I really didn't want to use this door even though I had decent odds at a "water" landing, only problem being in the waters below were lots of hungry salties and last time I checked, they don't have a safety measure for crocodiles snacking on your limbs.)

It wasn’t the Serengeti with herds of wildebeest, zebra and water buffalo running across the plains, but it was a land of many contrasts, from swamps to rivers and floodplains to mountain tops, we could see it all. Banking the plane twice to the left, the pilot circled around Twin Falls and then reversed direction to do the same for the right side as if turning on a spit reaching from the sky to the ground. He did the same for Jim Jim Falls and then straightened out for a flyby of many sacred Aboriginal sites, explaining the fables behind them. Reliable as usual, the sun began its journey down to the horizon for its daily disappearing act. As darkness began to overtake the sky, the plane found its red dirt landing strip in the seemingly endless plains, delivering us safely home for the night.

(Sunrise over Yellow Waters.)

An early morning boat trip on the Yellow Waters billabong and a few visits to Aboriginal cave drawings later, I was on my way back to modern civilization. The Outback is captivating, even the fast moving imagery passing by on the highway leaves an indelible imprint on the mind. It is a step back in geologic history, a time machine of sorts, to a time before modernity, at least back to the days of the Wild West. You could spend years traversing the Outback and likely not run into another human. For lovers of the great outdoors, this is a land yearning to be experienced, not dominated. Give yourself a few weeks, rent a camper and take to the open road at your own pace, just make sure you carry a valid driver’s license!

(A Jabiru takes an early morning flight. "Look Mom no hands." Everyone dislikes a showoff.)

("There's my handbag, I've been looking all over for it." Saltie lurks in the Yellow Waters waiting for his bird of prey, literally.)

Happy Father’s Day to my Dad and all the loving Dads investing in their children’s future with love, patience and the passage of wisdom from one generation to the next.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

The Twelve Apostles

(Cape Schanck, Australia)

Each day of our lives, during our waking hours, while we sleep and hundreds of millions of years before that, there is and has been a constant life force at work. Supporting the first evidence of life on the planet, it continues to be a rich source of food and a key environmental player in the global ecosystem. Some creatures live in it, some live on or near it, some harness it for energy, others for fun, and many come to marvel at it. It is the universal connector of all continents and intimately tied to the moon. Through the ages, the oceans of the world have inspired humans to set sail and explore the far reaches of the globe.

While similar in size to the United States, Australia is dissimilar in that the only neighbor with whom it shares a border belongs to the ocean (and seas). And while the ocean waters have been demarcated into different bodies of water by man, the fact remains that they are all connected. With 22,826 miles of beach front property, the southern island continent is home to white sandy beaches and a coastline backdrop of dramatic sandstone cliffs much like coastal Hwy 1 in California.

Throughout my journey, I have been joined by friends, met friends living abroad, and met friends of friends living or traveling abroad. Those experiences have been some of the highlights of my travel, sharing in the joy of finding good pizza when a break from local food was needed, soaking in he daily life in of another culture, or catching the sunrise over a sacred river. All of those experiences were enhanced by the sharing of them. Melbourne would prove to be no different.

Shifting course toward Australia, I e-mailed a friend of mine in the states who had mentioned she had a friend down under. Within hours, I was in contact with Marie, a lifelong Mebournian. She was immediately helpful in giving me some local advice on where and when to go, what to do and how long to stay; infinitely helpful knowledge when tackling a country of vast distances. After exchanging a few e-mails, Marie invited me to Melbourne, offering to show me some of its highlights from a local perspective.

Although it was winter in the south and temperatures ranged from the thirties to the fifties, reflecting on my previous experiences meeting other locals abroad, I flew to Melbourne before heading north for summer like weather and outdoor adventure. With only two full days in town, Marie lined up a packed schedule, driving one day up the eastern coast from Melbourne and up the western coast the next. Marie’s appreciation and enthusiasm for her home state shone through in her ambitious scheduling.

Saturday morning we headed to Cape Schanck for my first hands (and feet) on experience of Australia’s sandy beaches and limestone rock formations dotting the coast. Walking down a plank stairway to the beach, I was surrounded by green golf course like hills on one side and crashing waves on the other. With no specific plan in mind, I walked along the volcanic rocks, spotted with tiny clamshells, the occasional brownish green colored seaweed bundle and pools of water in black molten rock pools. Caught up in the moment, I rounded the cliff, losing sight of the beach where Marie was waiting.
(Low tide at the Cape.)

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before I realized I was standing in territory belonging to the ocean. The earthen rock beneath my feet spent the better part of its days submerged below the moody ocean waters. A tidal hourglass was ticking, low tide could not hold back the insatiable and unrelenting waters for long so I had to use my time wisely. It was nature’s recess, and when playtime ended, I would either return to land or submit to the sea, well known for having broken many sailing ships like toothpicks. Surely, if they were no match, my chances of survival would be next to nil.

Keeping one eye fixed on the tide, I jumped from rock to rock peering into pools of water and looking for sunken treasure stirred loose by the currents. No one in sight and a vast ocean before me, it was also the perfect time to find out: Do mermaids exist? “Here I am, Daryl Hannah take me away, now’s your chance,” I thought to myself. I was an unwilling victim (well maybe not if it was really Daryl), but curious enough to see if I could get a few snap shots before she slipped back to the depths. Time Magazine, National Geographic, or at worst, The National Enquirer, here I come! But it was not to be. No mermaids, no random gold coins lost in a century old shipwreck, just nature’s gems, starfish, sponges (luffa), coral and lots of beautiful seashells shucked by their former inhabitants lay before me.

Climbing each rock formation not surrounded by the sea, time stood still as it often does when you are a kid lost in your own world (except waiting for birthdays and holidays). Occasional bouts of a conscious awareness hit me as I thought of Marie waiting for me on the other side of the cliffs not knowing where I had gone. I could have kept busy for hours, but with the rising tide, nature moved in to let me know playtime was over. I climbed the hill behind me as my original route was reclaimed by the salty sea and returned to the beach.

Freezing on the beach where I left her, Marie returned to the top of the cliffs where I found her waiting at picnic tables next to the lighthouse. Patient and inquisitive of my exploration, she said nothing of my disappearance for hours for which we had not planned. Coastal exploration behind us, we headed to Flinders, one of many small but well to-do towns, where many Meblournians have weekend homes on horse ranches. Stopping for the local custom “tea time”, we stumbled on to an art show exhibiting talented area artists before returning to the city.

The following day involved a day long road trip through more rolling green hills and quaint seaside towns to the “Twelve Apostles”. One of the most photographed geologic features in Australia, the apostles are the last rocks standing just off the coastline, surrounded by the crashing ocean waves. After a few unplanned, if not accidental detours, we arrived at the rugged coastline just before sunset. Clouds overhead played hide the ball of fire, teasing my “trigger” finger poised on the camera waiting for the sun’s re-emergence. As the last rays of sunlight danced on the white caps chipping away at the base of the apostles, a full moon rose on the purple horizon.
("Twelve Apostles" standing in a moody ocean at sunset.)

Back in Melbourne, even after a twelve hour tour, we drove through the streets of the Central Business District or “CBD” and the surrounding neighborhoods. Even from street level it is easy to see why Melbourne was ranked the most livable city a decade ago. With green parks, clean streets, low crime, grand architecture, international cuisine and cafes to keep your java pangs satiated for several lifetimes, one of the country’s main economic hubs still manages a small town feel. Top that off with access to hot summer beaches, a thriving art culture and lots of open space just a few kilometers from the city center and you have a model city.

Early the next morning, Marie gave me a lift to the airport for the next leg of my trip. Thanking her for her open home hospitality and enthusiasm for sharing her hometown with me, I smiled as I was again reminded about the generosity of people, once strangers to me, now friends made along the way. Melbourne would no be exception as I now had a new friend down under.