<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792</id><updated>2011-07-31T04:18:10.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dance because we are free...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-8786441856818515243</id><published>2008-12-18T22:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T23:00:12.725-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Koh Tao, South Thailand</title><content type='html'>We are still in S. Thailand on the islands-- at least we made our new year's reservations today for a guesthouse in Pai in North Thailand so we have a destination and deadline. This is our third day in Koh Tao and we are leaving for Bangkok tomorrow. We came here to try the diving in Thailand. It was a fairly good experience for me since we went with a very professional company and I did a refresher course to regain my confidence with diving. The diving itself wasn't so great, since the visibility wasn't so good. The roads here have proved to be very challenging. We rented an off-road motorcycle, and Mario has gotten pretty good at driving on the worst roads that I have ever seen (using his feet to help our poor 125cc bike through the rough patches) and I've gotten good at hanging on tight and jumping off when the bike has had enough of carrying 2 people up a particularly steep and loose part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I left Bangkok we've been to Koh Yao Noi, Krabi city, Ton Sai beach (close to Railey), Ranong  to do a visa run, and then here to Koh Tao. Ton Sai has been our favorite so far. We were there about 5 days and went hiking, cave exploring, kayaking, and rock climbing. The vibe there is very chill and the people very nice. Mario told me that its the best place that he has been to during his trip around the world. I was there about 5 years ago, and it hasn't changed all that much. This is also a good sign. Still quaint, friendly, and very cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ranong was a bit of a nightmare. Very stressful for me. We crossed the border to Myanmar so that I could do a visa run. Can you believe that Brazilians get 3 month visas in Thailand and Americans get only 15 days (after a one month visa first)? I was very disappointed to find this out, since I have to do yet another one before leaving Thailand. Visa runs are like a blackhole for money. We took a tour around the border town of Myanmar and saw.... just about nothing. A couple of run down temples and a beach. Our guide was a very young Myanmar man (18 YO). He was a terrible motorcycle driver and a show-off: a very bad combination. Probably the most interesting thing that we saw was this LONG wooden makeshift bridge. It connected the mainland to a small island. It must have been quite old because it had clearly been patched up quite a bit. The original bridge had been built upon so that two new wheel-sized tracks were made to accommodate 4-wheel vehicles.  Since we were crossing with a motorcycle with three people on it (oh I forgot to mention that our guide probably weighed about 90 pounds and it was his first time driving across the bridge) it would be a a sure disaster if we fell off these two tracks: falling into a hole and busting on the bridge or going through the bridge completely into the ocean--both options seemed realistic. Mario and I discussed suggesting to our guide that Mario drive across the bridge for the return trip : "Can I try to drive the bike? It looks like fun." -- we proposed was the best way to approach him. But in the end we decided that the guide's  ego (and potential future guide business) would probably not survive if the tourists commandeered his vehicle so we decided to hang on for dear life. Clearly we survived in the end. But not without an unforgettable (and hopefully not repeated) return trip across this bridge-- and alot of cheering at the end of it. ("Can you take us back to the boat dock please? We're ready to go back to Thailand, thanks.")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-8786441856818515243?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/8786441856818515243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=8786441856818515243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8786441856818515243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8786441856818515243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/12/koh-tao-south-thailand.html' title='Koh Tao, South Thailand'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-8606813546023721603</id><published>2008-11-22T16:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T09:51:56.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving for my Thai adventure</title><content type='html'>So I'm heading down to Phuket to meet Mario (finally!). There is some kind of storm brewing down there. Not to mention that the tsunami came during this time of the year. I'll keep an eye on the dogs-- when they start running, we'll go too. I've become a bit spoiled here in BKK, and maybe I'll have trouble adjusting back to backpacker world. But I'll try! This time I'm with a rolling suitcase, heels and my computer. Ha! Different types of traveling for different ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a huge protest in Bangkok today. They are trying to oust the present prime minister who is the brother-in-law to the last one. There has been some bomb throwing lately at the government houses (by the current government supporters to the protesters). My aunt finally explained to me that the middle educated class are the supporters of the change in government; the poor people and the rich like the current government. Well, as long as they don't go near the airport...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I went to a 5 year-olds party at the movie cinema. Complete with hor d'oerves, a huge chocolate cake,  servers, and party favors for the kids-- hats with stuffed animals on them, balloons, junk food snack packs. Then we got a sneak preview to the Madagascar movie in this cushy theatre with sofas and blankets and popcorn. There were about 30 kids there (Thai and non-Thai) and their parents, and everyone spoke English to each other. I'm describing this to demonstrate the hi-so decadence of Thai and  international people in Bangkok. It will be interesting to see what the next generation turns out like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its about time for that double espresso. The next time I write, I'll hopefully be back to my senses and exploring a national park some where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. I have to gloat (since I am not doing enough of it yet but this is important) -- my Thai is better than ever. I was a bit worried since I could hardly spit out complete sentences before the plane landed. I mean, how can you blame me when Hengjia and Mr. Jingles are my main conversation partners in Florida?  "Sit!""Come here!" "What are you doing? Don't be bad!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-8606813546023721603?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/8606813546023721603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=8606813546023721603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8606813546023721603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8606813546023721603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/11/leaving-for-my-thai-adventure.html' title='Leaving for my Thai adventure'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-1716767171605709531</id><published>2008-11-19T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T16:27:24.947-08:00</updated><title type='text'>back in BKK</title><content type='html'>So I've been in Bangkok for two days. Completely in the lap of luxury at my cousins' gigantic house in the middle of the city. Its like a little paradise, and I have little desire or need to leave the house. My closest family members live here in this complex of three houses (3 nephews, 6 cousins, 4 aunts and uncles and my grandparents) so I just hang out with whoever happens by and have nice conversations.  There's a cooks, housekeepers, drivers etc. Last night they had a couple of people come by to give everyone pedicures and manicures. Every morning I have an espresso, fruit and a Thai breakfast in front of the pool and the garden with the cool winter breeze flowing and birds chirping. Yesterday I got a 2 hour traditional Thai massage at a sheiky spa. And I'm back to Thai food. Really the best food in the world. No other type of food can pull off a completely different dish every day that is totally delicious. To top it off, there is this little tiny housekeeper here who sings traditional Thai songs while she works in the house wearing a straw hat. So lovely...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-1716767171605709531?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/1716767171605709531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=1716767171605709531' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1716767171605709531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1716767171605709531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/11/back-in-bkk.html' title='back in BKK'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-3651126721616592004</id><published>2008-09-08T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T05:53:12.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saindo do Brasil</title><content type='html'>I'm back in Rio again. I have to say that the week that I spent in Tanguro (research field station outside of Canarana) was the best week that I had in Brazil this summer. There are a number of reasons for this. I love to be out on the field. Everyday I went to help a different researcher (all ecologists) to learn about their work and their methods. I was exposed to some of the best researchers today (from Woods Hole Research Center). And, I had a fabulous time with a great group of young researchers. There was a great vibe there at the field station, and I finally felt like myself again after 2 months in Brazil. I also feel renewed and inspired again to be a researcher. I came here to Brazil with a list of objectives and I accomplished almost all of them: 1. Become proficient and functional in Portuguese, 2. Meet with research partners and identify collaborators, 3. Develop the basis for my research and research proposal. Its a great feeling to know that I still have it in me to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgui_K-UI/AAAAAAAAHJk/DGeoK_l4Cws/s1600-h/P1010100.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgui_K-UI/AAAAAAAAHJk/DGeoK_l4Cws/s320/P1010100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243844431413180738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Soy plantations outside of the Amazon Forest. Note dense forest to the left. More forest photos below. This day we were taking hemispheric photos during sunrise, before the sun was too high to disturb the quality of the photos. Later these photos would be analyzed to determine the area of forest canopy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXguxF6AKI/AAAAAAAAHJs/uVzOsG7tRgc/s1600-h/P1010111.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXguxF6AKI/AAAAAAAAHJs/uVzOsG7tRgc/s320/P1010111.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243844435199525026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Michela and Paulo collecting soil samples to analyze for nitrogen content and thus, ability to sustain plants. This area is a test plot to determine the effect of fire on the forest. Michela was leading this study. She is a PhD student from Pará, Brazil who's Master's research (on the nutrient availability in forests) was outstanding enough to be published in Nature. Also, bands on the trees are used to measure the growth of the trees over time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgvYqnQmI/AAAAAAAAHJ0/yDZx_KK28f8/s1600-h/P1010114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgvYqnQmI/AAAAAAAAHJ0/yDZx_KK28f8/s320/P1010114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243844445822468706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhtQQUAlI/AAAAAAAAHKM/KmZtLL_UbX0/s1600-h/P1010141.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhtQQUAlI/AAAAAAAAHKM/KmZtLL_UbX0/s320/P1010141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243845508716560978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shelby and Paulo. Paulo was my wonderful host here in Tanguro and colleague at UF. He works for IPAM and is studying the effect of fire on trees. In the photo we went out at 5.30 am to take readings of the LAI (Leaf Area Index-- more or less how much light is available to the leaves based on the density of the leaf canopy) in the forest. Shelby is studying the differences between water quality of soy plantations and forests. Paulo was training her how to use the equipment and program for LAI measurements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqWAno1I/AAAAAAAAHLM/PP7w_8hdaCQ/s1600-h/P1010199.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqWAno1I/AAAAAAAAHLM/PP7w_8hdaCQ/s320/P1010199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846558233371474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another day I went out with Frank-- a PhD students from Germany-- and his assistant Marcus. Frank's study is to measure if there is a difference in water quantity between soy plantations and forests. This day they were finishing measurement for the volume of a reservoir. The coordinator of the field station-- Oswaldo-- built them this little boat to use for their measurements, but the entire staff of the field station was waiting for them to finish so that they could use the boat to go fishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXht-JkqVI/AAAAAAAAHKc/hq5vbkGjVMQ/s1600-h/P1010157.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXht-JkqVI/AAAAAAAAHKc/hq5vbkGjVMQ/s320/P1010157.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243845521036323154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's Oswaldo (left) and Darison, both who have probably been featured numerous times in various articles and other such venues, since there is a lot of high profile research coming out of this field station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgv0r9ziI/AAAAAAAAHKE/XcVwE2yrX8Q/s1600-h/P1010128.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgv0r9ziI/AAAAAAAAHKE/XcVwE2yrX8Q/s320/P1010128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243844453344333346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Some photos from the field station. This is Paulo's house. Mike is in the chair-- director of IPAM who was visiting the projects for a month before heading back to Wood's Hole Research Center. The house is well shaded by mango trees and probably in the best condition of all of the houses at the center of the field station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhtjxPpBI/AAAAAAAAHKU/fVaB42TUrdU/s1600-h/P1010155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhtjxPpBI/AAAAAAAAHKU/fVaB42TUrdU/s320/P1010155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243845513954960402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Me and Erika (undergrad from the Veterinary School doing a small project) in our first little house. We got moved out to the farther house, and we were happy to go since the farther house was also known as the "fun house". I was also very glad to leave the giant cockroach that was living in the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhudQDynI/AAAAAAAAHKk/V8v26GT5_NA/s1600-h/P1010158.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhudQDynI/AAAAAAAAHKk/V8v26GT5_NA/s320/P1010158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243845529385028210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The "fun house" where we... had lots of fun! Barbeques, dancing and such.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqGRcs7I/AAAAAAAAHLE/vwRiqpQ1JDc/s1600-h/P1010196.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqGRcs7I/AAAAAAAAHLE/vwRiqpQ1JDc/s320/P1010196.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846554008990642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Erica, Marcus and I in our room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqsjlBAI/AAAAAAAAHLU/JyP6xTJA6hs/s1600-h/P1010205.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXiqsjlBAI/AAAAAAAAHLU/JyP6xTJA6hs/s320/P1010205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846564285580290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Breakfast: (starting left) Michela, Frank, Erika, Me, Franca (Frank's visiting girlfriend), and Marcus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgvn9be_I/AAAAAAAAHJ8/yYwVCQi08G8/s1600-h/P1010123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgvn9be_I/AAAAAAAAHJ8/yYwVCQi08G8/s320/P1010123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243844449927920626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ema (rhea) with 16 babies. They lived around the field station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhuqxCp1I/AAAAAAAAHKs/8PdRFLEaKDM/s1600-h/P1010160.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXhuqxCp1I/AAAAAAAAHKs/8PdRFLEaKDM/s320/P1010160.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243845533013026642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another popular species around the field station-- burrowing owl. Other animals spotted by the researchers in the past month include lots of armadillas and antas (tapir), a few anteaters and monkeys, and one jaguar and sloth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXipX_BKCI/AAAAAAAAHK0/TVqbpqiz5dU/s1600-h/P1010169.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXipX_BKCI/AAAAAAAAHK0/TVqbpqiz5dU/s320/P1010169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846541583656994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This day we went to a reservoir to help Frank carry out some rain collecting equipment that had been left there a previous year by a previous researcher. Frank intended to use this equipment again after refurbishing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXipphwyLI/AAAAAAAAHK8/1qQoO8febUk/s1600-h/P1010172.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXipphwyLI/AAAAAAAAHK8/1qQoO8febUk/s320/P1010172.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846546292787378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Erika and I with our snake guards-- I never saw a single snake BTW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXi3nrw7tI/AAAAAAAAHLc/V68cpibgQOY/s1600-h/P1010209.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXi3nrw7tI/AAAAAAAAHLc/V68cpibgQOY/s320/P1010209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243846786316037842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Part of my despertido crew at the bus station. I arrived at an empty bus station, but I left with a going away party of 12 people. (Left to right:  Marcus, Frank, Franca, Erika)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-3651126721616592004?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/3651126721616592004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=3651126721616592004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3651126721616592004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3651126721616592004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/09/saindo-do-brasil.html' title='Saindo do Brasil'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXgui_K-UI/AAAAAAAAHJk/DGeoK_l4Cws/s72-c/P1010100.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-8344936080757692001</id><published>2008-08-31T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T19:20:53.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa Catarina and Mato Grosso</title><content type='html'>I´ve travelled quite alot in the past week. I flew from Rio to Curitiba. There I spent a few hours waiting for the bus to São Bento. This was not lost time, because right outside of the bus station was a lovely old inside fresh market, also with restuarants and gourmet cheeses, wines, and oils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hours to São Bento brought me to a tiny little town of about 6o,000 people, where most of the people are of German descent. A very charming little town that has hills, a chiming bell tower, no crime, and about 3 major roads. Vivi was here staying with her family. So I stayed with her at her mother´s apartment but also spent good time with her very nice sister, brother-in-law, and niece and nephew. One night they had a lovely dinner party with friends. The last day there in São Bento we all went together to see some of the neighboring towns. On the fouth day we drove to the coast to Florianopolis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First we stopped in a little town to visit the relatives of Vivi´s father. They lived close to a big lake. Wonderful lunch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Florianopolis, we stayed with Vivi´s brother. He has a wonderful rented house above the lake! Que linda! We drove to the South of the island and visited some nice areas. Lots of great sea food here! I ate enough oysters to fill me for the next year... I need to come back here another time to enjoy the beaches and trails more. Somewhere along this 1 week with Vivi´s family and friends, the Portuguese clicked and conversations became understandable. This was good because after Florianopolis I was on my own...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXcGBlb4ZI/AAAAAAAAHJU/7Vkh0DO-wVY/s1600-h/P1010088.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXcGBlb4ZI/AAAAAAAAHJU/7Vkh0DO-wVY/s200/P1010088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243839337205588370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I flew to Brasilia where I stayed one night to meet with someone, then took the 14 hour bus to Canarana. When I stepped off the bus in Canarana at 10 am in the morning, I questioned my decision to travel so far into the center of Brazil. The bus station emptied quickly, and I could literally hear the leaves rolling down the empty streets in this city center.  The heat was so heavy that the enormously wide paved roads shimmered, and little tornados brewed across the street medians. All of the 4 people in the bus station stared at me as I went to a bus ticket window to get a return ticket (already I was thinking about returning). Three indigenous people had arrived and were negotiating their ticket with the vender, giggling and making jokes that the vender (and I) didn't understand. I held my head up high as I left the station, trying to look confident that I knew what I was doing. I immediately went to an internet shop, hoping for an email from my colleague at UF with instructions about what to do next, and finding nothing, lingered-- writing in my face book "Arika is in Canarana and is wondering a bit, what in the world I am doing here in the middle of no where."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I asked the woman at the counter if she knew where the IPAM office was-- the organization that my friend works for. She said sure! And she knew my friend! So she called him, got his friend, and his friend came to pick me up to bring me to a hotel and help me find lunch. Then immediately we ran into Paulo at the hotel where he was looking for another friend. Then, suddenly I had lots of friends. His group of researchers and students had come into town for the weekend to get a break from the isolation of the field station. A mix of Americans, Germans, and Brazilians. Great people! I guess in a town of 7000 people its not too hard to find who you are looking for.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXfjEI8dFI/AAAAAAAAHJc/9sx0k8tS0Cc/s1600-h/P1010090.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXfjEI8dFI/AAAAAAAAHJc/9sx0k8tS0Cc/s320/P1010090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243843134642484306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-8344936080757692001?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/8344936080757692001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=8344936080757692001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8344936080757692001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8344936080757692001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/08/santa-catarina-and-mato-grosso.html' title='Santa Catarina and Mato Grosso'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SMXcGBlb4ZI/AAAAAAAAHJU/7Vkh0DO-wVY/s72-c/P1010088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-2376249391882001593</id><published>2008-08-19T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T18:46:30.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pão do Açucar</title><content type='html'>Pão do Açucar is that famous rock that you always see in those striking Rio de Janeiro photos of Corcovado and the bay.  Wow! What a view from the top! Well worth the investment into those bondinhos. First we stayed on the beach and enjoyed beers, sun, and barbeque sausage. Then we climbed up 15 minutes up to the first rock and viewpoint. And later, took the bondinho up to the next rock to see the sunset. My second to last day in Rio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyNDCgiqI/AAAAAAAAHIc/Vsrm2x1DV4Q/s1600-h/P1010006-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyNDCgiqI/AAAAAAAAHIc/Vsrm2x1DV4Q/s320/P1010006-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236404560228027042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;View from the beach. Very beautiful photo day, even though the water was a bit too green for swimming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyNk-ZtGI/AAAAAAAAHIs/7TvRTOncw8A/s1600-h/P1010035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyNk-ZtGI/AAAAAAAAHIs/7TvRTOncw8A/s320/P1010035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236404569337607266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;View of Copacobana, where I have spent the majority of my stay in Rio. I've been complaining of the noise and air pollution, but I am going to miss it when I leave. I've spent two months here! Where did the time go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKt3We99GdI/AAAAAAAAHJM/pbuSN4x51Zc/s1600-h/P1010055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKt3We99GdI/AAAAAAAAHJM/pbuSN4x51Zc/s320/P1010055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236410219902081490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyOQCdAaI/AAAAAAAAHI8/-dMgA_8MExE/s1600-h/P1010053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyOQCdAaI/AAAAAAAAHI8/-dMgA_8MExE/s320/P1010053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236404580897325474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-2376249391882001593?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/2376249391882001593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=2376249391882001593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2376249391882001593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2376249391882001593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/08/po-do-aucar.html' title='Pão do Açucar'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKtyNDCgiqI/AAAAAAAAHIc/Vsrm2x1DV4Q/s72-c/P1010006-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-6727439157736618410</id><published>2008-08-19T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T18:38:16.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On the way out</title><content type='html'>I am finally leaving Rio. I'm pretty happy about this, since big cities definitely get old after a bit. But I've been spending alot of quality time alone and its been good for me to get to know another type of Rio. This is a good city and I like it. Nice people, interesting street life, good restaurants, beautiful beaches, and great music! There is always alot to do if you have the motivation for it. I'm heading out for Pão do Açucar in just a moment. Going to go see what this famous view at the top is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the plan: Santa Catarina Aug 21-28. Brasilia 28-30. Canarana: 30 Aug-7 Sept. Then I leave from Rio for Florida on 8 Sept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo of me on the beach in Ipanema, catching the last vestiges of sun before it dropped behind the mountains:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKr2AhN5FhI/AAAAAAAAHIU/6K5ZsJrYkRU/s1600-h/Brzl+40043.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKr2AhN5FhI/AAAAAAAAHIU/6K5ZsJrYkRU/s320/Brzl+40043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236268005548693010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-6727439157736618410?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/6727439157736618410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=6727439157736618410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/6727439157736618410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/6727439157736618410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/08/on-way-out.html' title='On the way out'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKr2AhN5FhI/AAAAAAAAHIU/6K5ZsJrYkRU/s72-c/Brzl+40043.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-1825695094317609420</id><published>2008-08-07T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T09:25:51.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Independência</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;This is my last week in the language program. Last night I had another good night at Lapa, dancing samba (trying) and listening to a great samba band. I came home earlier than the other students, simply because after 2 am it starts to become like work for me. The next day, I had plans with a couple of the girls to go to Prainha. They didn’t show up, since they were shot from dancing all night. I was a bit disappointed because I didn’t want to go to Prainha by myself. But then suddenly, I got tired of having to wait for other people to do things with me. And I decide from then on to stop waiting for people. So I went to Copacabana Beach alone, and I met two Brazilians here-- because I was alone. This is important because I’ve found it difficult to cross the cultural (language!) boundaries. The first was a guy who asked me to watch his things while he went swimming. We chatted for about 10 minutes until he decided to continue his walk down the beach to look for friends. Later, I wanted to go swimming so I asked an older woman to watch my things. When I came back she pulled me into a lengthy conversation. She was really patient with me and spoke slowly and carefully, saying that she respected me for trying to learn Portuguese. She is retired and comes to the beach frequently. One really nice thing that she said: “I always come to the beach alone to sit here in front of the ocean. And I don’t do anything. I don’t even think. I only look at the ocean. The ocean has the power to wash your mind of worries and stress.”    &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;It’s interesting that I used to always travel alone because I wanted to meet people and have adventures. Then somewhere along the way I got lazy and lost my independence. Maybe I’ll find it again here…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"&gt;In any case, the course ends tomorrow and then I will be on my own here in Brazil. Plans are to go to Santa Catarina with Vivian to visit her family and then to Mato Grosso (Canarana) to get on the field for a couple of weeks. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-1825695094317609420?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/1825695094317609420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=1825695094317609420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1825695094317609420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1825695094317609420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/08/independencia.html' title='Independência'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-3790733018344682733</id><published>2008-07-29T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T09:41:07.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>breakdancing, forest, and more beach</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-TvQ9_1MI/AAAAAAAAHH8/VshHHTNrByo/s1600-h/breakdance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-TvQ9_1MI/AAAAAAAAHH8/VshHHTNrByo/s200/breakdance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228560132618572994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another fabulous night at Lapa (last Thursday). Breakdancing showcase. Great crowd. The cultural events in Brazil are always top class. I realized there that I really like the Brazilians. They are always respectful and good natured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday we went to climb to the top of a peak in Floresta da Tijuca. Big group walk. No chances in seeing any animals in a group like that. Anyway,  at least I got out into the  forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-SUSpG_fI/AAAAAAAAHHs/LdmIhD1Pw7Q/s1600-h/group+at+forest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-SUSpG_fI/AAAAAAAAHHs/LdmIhD1Pw7Q/s320/group+at+forest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228558569699737074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SJt5YN8dygI/AAAAAAAAHIE/pROGoWbR69g/s1600-h/me+in+floresta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SJt5YN8dygI/AAAAAAAAHIE/pROGoWbR69g/s320/me+in+floresta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231908849088055810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKRf-7tg3XI/AAAAAAAAHIM/F9Im9eYcxt8/s1600-h/tijuca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SKRf-7tg3XI/AAAAAAAAHIM/F9Im9eYcxt8/s320/tijuca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234414201696476530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, the surf bus didn´t come :( I missed my weekly dose of Prainha, so I may go crazy by the end of the week. Instead we went to a local beach next to Pão do Azucar. It was still nice, since it was local and we could interact (a little bit more with Brazilians). I have to stop being afraid that they don´t want to talk with me-- with my horrible Portuguese. Oh-- I also finally found a nice crew to hang out with in my program: Jack, Melissa, and Abby are all really chill and we move at about the same pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-ST6G7PKI/AAAAAAAAHHc/Zz8eWQHKDIM/s1600-h/beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-ST6G7PKI/AAAAAAAAHHc/Zz8eWQHKDIM/s320/beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228558563113909410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Abby and I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh-- I had my first real conversation in Portuguese with a random Brazilian today! I´ve been going to these lectures at the Museu do Indio. One guy I´ve been noticing because he didn´t look Brazilian-- I thought that he was European. So I went to ask him if he was Brazilian, and he was. I would have never had the courage to talk to him if I thought that he was Brazilian. We talked about research, travel in Brazil, field work, and indigenous people of Brazil. If there is one topic that I want to be good at talking about, its my research work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-3790733018344682733?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/3790733018344682733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=3790733018344682733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3790733018344682733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3790733018344682733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/07/breakdancing-forest-and-more-beach.html' title='breakdancing, forest, and more beach'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SI-TvQ9_1MI/AAAAAAAAHH8/VshHHTNrByo/s72-c/breakdance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-8993323484473994575</id><published>2008-07-19T05:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T16:07:30.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rio night life</title><content type='html'>Last night we went to Lapa-- the party part of town. I've been there twice before, but it always astonishing to see it. Its like a massive street party that is happening almost every night. With tons of bars and live music. Dancing in the street, drums, food etc. Mixture of black consciousness, hippies and tourists. Its remarkably tame though. No hassles from people. Men just say Hi and then leave. Every now and then there is a bad fight-- but I haven't seen one yet. Brazil appears to be either good or bad. No middle ground. People are either super nice, or super shady. Last night I am pretty sure that I saw some thieves fleeing the scene. You can tell bc they are running as fast as they can, dodging cars. The Brazilian way is to keep an eye out for trouble and leave as quickly as you can at the first hint. Anyway, we went there to see some African drumming. Great music and lots of people dancing. Today we are going to Prainha (beach) for fun in the sun again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we went to Corcovado. You know that big Christ statue that overlooks the city? Its a great view from up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx8TxvUCI/AAAAAAAAHG8/0ahjxZVGk8M/s1600-h/P1010044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224863798618181666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx8TxvUCI/AAAAAAAAHG8/0ahjxZVGk8M/s200/P1010044.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx8A3nCGI/AAAAAAAAHG0/TTCm9S_d6dk/s1600-h/P1010041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224863793542531170" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx8A3nCGI/AAAAAAAAHG0/TTCm9S_d6dk/s200/P1010041.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx-JPAXYI/AAAAAAAAHHE/zOihGoqZ4Nc/s1600-h/P1010046.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-8993323484473994575?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/8993323484473994575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=8993323484473994575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8993323484473994575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8993323484473994575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/07/rio-night-life.html' title='Rio night life'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJx8TxvUCI/AAAAAAAAHG8/0ahjxZVGk8M/s72-c/P1010044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-3325263102426980674</id><published>2008-07-17T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T17:53:59.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lapa and botanical garden</title><content type='html'>I’ve survived one more week in the big city. Highlights of the past week were a night out in Lapa at Scenarium and today’s trip to the Botanical Garden. Somehow I manage to spend way too much time wandering about in the streets—that’s pretty much how I use up most of my time here in Rio outside of classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Lapa the week before but we just wandered around in circles for 2 hours. This time we went with a few Brazilians to hear the band of one woman’s husband. Outstanding! The leading musician played the violin and the band ranged from samba to forro. The venue itself was beautiful. Like a restored old hotel lobby/saloon. It was filled with antiques and I was told that these antiques get changed frequently—either because they are rented or they get sold. The area is an antique district during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I missed my program’s bus to Petropolis—a historic city in the mountains—like an idiot. So I stuck around town again and me and Patricia went to the Botanical Gardens. Its really a lovely place and maybe one of the nicest botanical gardens that I have been to—not because it has more diversity or infrastructure or anything. It just had a really good feeling and maybe I was really relieved to finally get away from all of the cars and the traffic. We even saw some wildlife (toucans, monkeys) which reminded me how close Rio is to some beautiful and rich forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_oSBbpPZI/AAAAAAAAHF0/RyX9Tz8wHZg/s1600-h/P2botanical+gardens+(107).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224149489092738450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_oSBbpPZI/AAAAAAAAHF0/RyX9Tz8wHZg/s200/P2botanical+gardens+(107).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_miDEFEOI/AAAAAAAAHFM/yob44Rw1_6A/s1600-h/P2botanical+gardens+(7).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224147565385421026" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_miDEFEOI/AAAAAAAAHFM/yob44Rw1_6A/s200/P2botanical+gardens+(7).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_mi8MCoJI/AAAAAAAAHFc/xAfaeImeGoU/s1600-h/P2botanical+gardens+(96).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224147580719636626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_mi8MCoJI/AAAAAAAAHFc/xAfaeImeGoU/s200/P2botanical+gardens+(96).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_oSVh2SNI/AAAAAAAAHF8/AWDQcEsuW_o/s1600-h/P2botanical+gardens+(104).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224149494487468242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_oSVh2SNI/AAAAAAAAHF8/AWDQcEsuW_o/s200/P2botanical+gardens+(104).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_mipEardI/AAAAAAAAHFU/XnuBP0Vkp38/s1600-h/P2botanical+gardens+(93).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224147575587384786" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_mipEardI/AAAAAAAAHFU/XnuBP0Vkp38/s200/P2botanical+gardens+(93).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;View of the mountains and favela (?) outside of the gardens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-3325263102426980674?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/3325263102426980674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=3325263102426980674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3325263102426980674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3325263102426980674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/07/lapa-and-botanical-garden.html' title='Lapa and botanical garden'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_oSBbpPZI/AAAAAAAAHF0/RyX9Tz8wHZg/s72-c/P2botanical+gardens+(107).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-1808168898837538081</id><published>2008-07-06T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T15:54:36.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rio de Janeiro</title><content type='html'>I am in a homestay about 4 blocks from the famous beach of Copacabana. Really amazing to be here in Rio and again, standing in a place with so much history and famous reputation. I went to Ipanema on the first day here— I have to admit that like many other extranheiros, I’ve romanticized it based on “The Girl from Ipanema”. The family that I am staying with is wonderful. Marisa and her daughter Jennifer (23 YO); Patricia is another student from Boulder, CO; and until recently, Kendra was here as a tourist as well. It is a lively, friendly and comfortable house to stay in. I was pretty nervous about it before arriving since it’s a bit weird committing to stay in a family’s house for 6 weeks, but Marisa loves to chatter and treats us all like her children so I felt comfortable immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJwaKu-dlI/AAAAAAAAHGs/KL6U4Y6vimY/s1600-h/P1010035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224862112563492434" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJwaKu-dlI/AAAAAAAAHGs/KL6U4Y6vimY/s200/P1010035.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marisa and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A typical day for me: Breakfast at 8am with coffee and ham and cheese sandwich and fruit. Arrive for class at 8.45am and study Portuguese in my class of about 10 students. Then home for lunch—big lunch! Then sometimes back again to the school for lectures—the cultural component of the course. If I am free for the afternoon, then I explore the wonders of Rio de Janeiro with one or two girls from my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Kendra took me to Santa Theresa—a small bohemian and artistic community surrounded by favelas. We rode the Bonde there, which was the most sketchy form of transportation that I am ever encountered. Maybe it was because when we arrived it was full, so we rode on the outside of it. The concrete along the sides of the tracks was brushing my pant legs as we went over the overpasses of the highway. All I could imagine as a pant leg getting stuck on an outcropping and me tumbling down to the favelas below. Besides that it creaked along like an old rollercoaster and often seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. The kids were killing me as well, because they liked running along the bonde- jumping on and off and dragging their feet along the road as we moved along. Santa Theresa was quaint, charming, beautiful and a breath of fresh air for me- since the busy-ness of Copacabana has been a bit difficult for me to get used to. We had a lovely caiparinha at a hillside restaurant with some small food before leaving on the rickety bonde back into the downtown of Rio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rDqTxIGI/AAAAAAAAHGE/fY9OjMsGQG8/s1600-h/P1010025.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224152540902400098" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rDqTxIGI/AAAAAAAAHGE/fY9OjMsGQG8/s200/P1010025.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kendra at the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rDyaEj8I/AAAAAAAAHGM/oi3McdHVOGw/s1600-h/P1010033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224152543076323266" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rDyaEj8I/AAAAAAAAHGM/oi3McdHVOGw/s200/P1010033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rERIzyfI/AAAAAAAAHGU/gzUr-P0LtNY/s1600-h/P1010036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224152551325420018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rERIzyfI/AAAAAAAAHGU/gzUr-P0LtNY/s200/P1010036.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Santa Theresa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rEjbvlAI/AAAAAAAAHGc/TIVZTVTrf4s/s1600-h/P1010054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224152556236674050" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rEjbvlAI/AAAAAAAAHGc/TIVZTVTrf4s/s200/P1010054.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rFK_jmKI/AAAAAAAAHGk/D2TwFju1060/s1600-h/P1010060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224152566855866530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SH_rFK_jmKI/AAAAAAAAHGk/D2TwFju1060/s200/P1010060.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prainha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-1808168898837538081?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/1808168898837538081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=1808168898837538081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1808168898837538081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1808168898837538081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/07/rio-de-janeiro.html' title='Rio de Janeiro'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/SIJwaKu-dlI/AAAAAAAAHGs/KL6U4Y6vimY/s72-c/P1010035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-1003400540088488478</id><published>2008-05-30T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T10:53:45.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kauai</title><content type='html'>[Photos in Hawaii can be found at pipapromundo.blogspot.com]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were in Kauai (the garden island) for about 10 days. We went west first. Punihale beach. Off road. Stuck in the sand. Amazing beach. Hawaiian monk seals on the beach. Then up to Kole'e State park for 2 nights. 10 mile hike to see the south side of the Na Pail coast line. Then, we met my friend from Gainesville-- Elisha. He was in a really nice bohemian town called Kapa'a. He took us to a nice campsite in pine groves, and we had a great BBQ. Then Mario and I went to a 3 day ethnobotany field course in Kauai. We camped outside by the small clean (!!) river. About 500 meters from the beach. Then we hiked the Na Pali trail. 22 miles round trip. Amazing trail!! Completely along the ocean cliffs, and stunning!! We walked the first leg (11 miles) in one day easy, and were hardly prepared for it. No water filter, so we drank out of waterfalls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mario is like me, so we had a great adventure doing everything that we wanted to do in Hawaii: forests, waterfalls, waves, beach, hiking, camping, eating great food, exploring... Every day here was a great day for us. Mario left today for New Zealand. We will meet again in another country this year. Indonesia? Thailand? Malaysia? We will see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must admit that one month of transient living in a tent is quite enough for me, and I am ready to be back in my house with my dogs, garden, kitchen and hot shower. I'm leaving tonight for North Carolina for an Society for Economic Botany conference...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-1003400540088488478?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/1003400540088488478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=1003400540088488478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1003400540088488478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1003400540088488478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/05/kauai.html' title='Kauai'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-7963946523214249369</id><published>2008-05-12T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T16:08:33.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Island</title><content type='html'>Mario and I have spent the past 10 days exploring the Big Island. This is my second time around the island. But the first time was more planned and I stayed in the public camping places, which required permits. Since Mario and I didn't plan much we played it by ear and went slow. Very nice! We would hunt out a nice spot and then hang out until evening and then set up our casinha! Our little house spots were much nicer than the dirty public parks were were open to everyone to use. We started in Kona. Mario has friends there and we organized our things and they so kindly lent us a beautiful 4wd Toyota. We took good care of her and she took good care of us. Then we went clockwise around the island. 2 nights in Palolu-- we climbed up and down that big cliff to our camp site everyday for more supplied (water!). Hiking to the top of the neighboring ridges. Eating liliquoi  and little guava. One night in Waipio valley-- camping on the burial site. Bathing in the Lepto water fall. Crossing the unpredictable river. Climbing the ridge. One night in the middle before Hilo: sneaky camping on the outlook. Wine and cheese during the sunset.  Next day Takaka falls. Then to stay with Mike in Puna Valley for three nights. Volcano at night. Boys surfing. Mikes interpretive dance of Pele. Snorkling in the reefs. Volcano Natl Park. Sulfur fumes. Rainbows. Punalu'u camping. Dirty public park. Black sand beach. Then back to Kona.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-7963946523214249369?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/7963946523214249369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=7963946523214249369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/7963946523214249369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/7963946523214249369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/05/big-island.html' title='Big Island'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-4058231072817618145</id><published>2008-04-26T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T09:35:16.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oahu, Hawai'i</title><content type='html'>Here I am again. In beautiful Oahu. Downstairs in Michael's place where I can watch the sun rise over the Honolulu sky line. I had a hell of a time finishing the semester but I am glad to say that I did everything that I needed to do! And not a bad job at it at all. What a wonderful feeling to feel free again! And happy too-- knowing that I am doing everything to the best of my ability. So I have an exciting next 5 weeks, and rest of the summer. You will be seeing me alot again. May 1: the Big Island, May 10: Kuaui, May 25: Oahu. I am visiting the University, visiting friends, and taking a field course. You will see me on the beach, snorkling, hiking and having a fabulous time. And remembering what it is to be free again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-4058231072817618145?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/4058231072817618145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=4058231072817618145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4058231072817618145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4058231072817618145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2008/04/oahu-hawaii.html' title='Oahu, Hawai&apos;i'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-2833385445057904090</id><published>2007-08-17T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T12:48:05.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belize</title><content type='html'>One of the most astonishing facts about Belize, is that it s hardly inhabited with about 350,000 people, of whom the most distinguishable are the Mayans, Garifunas, and plenty of Guatemala immigrants. Its a beautiful country full of forests, wildlife and beaches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshmC9ryNwI/AAAAAAAABgk/ltxcFvIFnRc/s1600-h/P1010182.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshmC9ryNwI/AAAAAAAABgk/ltxcFvIFnRc/s200/P1010182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100438779101067010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My first stop was Cayo where I went to meet up with a friend's cousin- Tim- who has been living there for 4 years. He's staying in a great house overlooking the beautiful forest around Cayo (San Ignacio). Lovely mornings on the porch with REAL coffee and lots of birds. One day we all went to the Pineridge Forest for swimming and exploring. Our rented Trooper broke down that same night and we ended up walking the last two blocks to his car-- Belizean style, I was told. BTW Tim's car is a story in itself bc it well represents life in Belize: He drove it into an unexpected river that flooded a bridge-- they had to drag it out of the river but the electronics have been shot since then. Someone threw a huge stone thru the window and he now uses this stone to set up the plastic needed to cover the window to keep the rain out. Then, just before I showed up, Tim banged on the dash to fix a rattle problem and punched a big hole in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to Dangriga for 3-4 nights. Now, this is considered the center of the Garifuna culture and Punta Rock. The Garifuna are an ethnic mix of Caribbean and African and are lovely people. They speak like they are reciting poetry-- a beautiful version of English that would be interpreted as highly descriptive street slang in the US. At first glance Dangriga's not the nicest looking town (the hotel owner was surprised to hear that we would be staying a second night).  But the Garifuna are so charming and there were so many things going on, we just had to stay. Ahright mon! There was a cultural show with music and dancing one night. Great music! I LOVE the music! Imagine a town where you can walk down the streets in the evening and find that every house listens to good music-- Carribean, Latin, reggae, African, Garifuna beats. Que bonito! You should see these women dance. Their hips (read: ass) move as an altogether independent body and they risk some moves that border on vulgar-- a woman jumped up on stage to dance and stopped several times dramatically to flex her crotch muscles for the crowd. Throughout all of this, there was this multiple day dugu (spiritual healing) ceremony going on at a spiritual center (made of bamboo and thatch), which we attended intermittently. I joined in some of the dancing, which is accompanied by 3 big hand drums and lovely singing. The last day  that we attended began with greeting the fisherman at the beach, who were bringing in seafood for the ceremony. It was a bit of a rough town (Lots of crackheads; we got robbed at gun point on the street one night, can you believe?) but it was completely exotic and interesting to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsieCtryNzI/AAAAAAAABg8/8fRWSAmcYsg/s1600-h/P1010200.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsieCtryNzI/AAAAAAAABg8/8fRWSAmcYsg/s320/P1010200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100500347457255218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Spirit center in Dangriga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshkatryNsI/AAAAAAAABgE/KpwRvVBYmMY/s1600-h/P1010192.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshkatryNsI/AAAAAAAABgE/KpwRvVBYmMY/s320/P1010192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100436988099704514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dangriga at sunset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I headed to Placencia with the chief objective of staying out of trouble for the last few days of my trip. My first day there, I met a couple of girls (India and Italy) who invited me to share a room with them. They had a full out efficiency with a fully equipped kitchen, bathroom, and big veranda on the second floor of a wooden building (30$/night for the whole place!). It was perfect! Beaches were lovely, place was chill, sun was hot, and the water was clear. A perfect ending to over 3 months of travel in Latin America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshk4NryNtI/AAAAAAAABgM/iFTm7qPSCyc/s1600-h/P1010222.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshk4NryNtI/AAAAAAAABgM/iFTm7qPSCyc/s320/P1010222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100437494905845458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Quechi Mayan boys selling crafts made by their families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-2833385445057904090?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/2833385445057904090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=2833385445057904090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2833385445057904090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2833385445057904090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/08/belize.html' title='Belize'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshmC9ryNwI/AAAAAAAABgk/ltxcFvIFnRc/s72-c/P1010182.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-385329831499270320</id><published>2007-08-03T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T17:07:48.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Itza Mayans</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshjtNryNrI/AAAAAAAABf8/60_P7mvaFrQ/s1600-h/P1010175.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshjtNryNrI/AAAAAAAABf8/60_P7mvaFrQ/s200/P1010175.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100436206415656626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am on the other side of the lake (close to Flores in Northern Guatemala) in a little pueblo called San Jose. It is a very old town of several hundred years-- fully Itza Mayan. I´m staying with a family who is very (very) basic. I have my own little room enclosed in plastic and concrete with a tin roof. I eat carbs and carbs and more carbs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our toilet is a couple of holes in the ground (but fairly clean). And the mother of the house cooks on a fire-- yesterday I made tortillas! She´s got two ducks and 1 pig and I spend some time everyday watching them roam around and eat stuff (I like the ducks). I live at the top of the hill-- almost next to the Spanish school. The school is outside in a big garden overlooking the lake and we look at the wildlife that come to the garden everyday during my class. I am the only student at the school, so everything is one-on-one. The teacher is so-so, I tell her what and how I want to learn. She´s great for conversational practice but terrible with explaining grammar. I get my own private guide everyday-- and he is a really fabulous guide and speaks like he is reading out of book! Today we are going to another Mayan ruin for my own archaelogical and ecological tour. Yesterday I had a tour around this town of 3000 people. Tomorrow we are going to a cave. Some of the houses are still traditional with mud walls and thatch roof (photo).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9EZdryN2I/AAAAAAAABiw/ZHtRti_S52M/s1600-h/P1010139.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9EZdryN2I/AAAAAAAABiw/ZHtRti_S52M/s320/P1010139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106875706717124450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here´s the two main reasons why I am here: 1. The lake is stunningly blue and clear and completely beautiful. I make a point of swimming and spending time there everyday. The weather is good almost everyday-- too hot actually. 2. There is alot of use of plants here. They make soap and shampoo, weave and dye cloth, make plant based jewelry, collect and eat local plants, and use medicinal plants. I am also one of only 4 foreigners in this whole town-- I have only talked the Japanese volunteer who can only speak Spanish. I am Spanish speaking all day and it gets pretty tiring (no hablo Ingles nunca). BUT, I´ve learned tons already in 2 days. I´ll spend about a week here and then move on to Belize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshjStryNqI/AAAAAAAABf0/hRKzh_shqP4/s1600-h/P1010144.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshjStryNqI/AAAAAAAABf0/hRKzh_shqP4/s320/P1010144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100435751149123234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-385329831499270320?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/385329831499270320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=385329831499270320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/385329831499270320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/385329831499270320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/08/itza-mayans.html' title='Itza Mayans'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshjtNryNrI/AAAAAAAABf8/60_P7mvaFrQ/s72-c/P1010175.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-5474705997810055448</id><published>2007-07-29T19:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T21:15:54.277-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cuevas de Semuc Champey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshhI9ryNmI/AAAAAAAABfU/xNy4IxhNGC8/s1600-h/P1010080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshhI9ryNmI/AAAAAAAABfU/xNy4IxhNGC8/s320/P1010080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100433384622143074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;First of all, Semuc Champey has these amazing freshwater pools that are captured within limestone formations-- formed from sediment in the water rushing out of the mountain caves that are further up river. Think crystal blue, clear, fresh, waterfalls, lots of green vegetation, and big! Big enough to swim about in about 6 different pools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the cuevas. Ordinarily, I am not crazy about tours but this one was not to be missed and not possible without a guide. It started off with a giant leap from a swing into the brown rushing river. Next, I borrowed some shoes for the cave (no havaianas unfortunately) and was given a lit candle-- every other person-- and there were about 15 of us. And we entered the cave in water chest deep among the stalactites/mites. Then, swimming with one hand, scrambling up rocks, more swimming in the dark, climbing up a rope into the face of a rushing waterfall from the depths of the cavern, yet more swimming (the longest was about 30 meters in distance- with shoes on and one hand, this is not easy), 3 meter drop into a pool of water, more scrambling and climbing and swimming. When we got to the end, the guide told us to blow out our candles. I made a comment about what a nightmare it would be if there wasn´t a way to light them up again. One guy refused to blow out his candle and swam around the corner to give us some darkness. Good thing! bc later we learned that the guide´s lighter didn´t work! Can you imagine?? Trying to get back thru that cave (about an hour ´walk´) in the pitch black dark?! One the way back, he had us squeeze thru a tiny little hole of rushing water. When we finally emerged into the light-- with tiny wet candle stubs-- we climbed up to the top of the mountain to look down on the waterfalls and pools of the Semuc Champey. Then tubed down the river back to our guesthouse. All I can say is: Intense.  You could never do this in the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsplttryN0I/AAAAAAAABhk/lIBzL3cq4Dk/s1600-h/P1010085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsplttryN0I/AAAAAAAABhk/lIBzL3cq4Dk/s320/P1010085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101001363982268226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jason (Portland, OR) and Quechi Mayans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Our first day at Semuc Champey-- I voted that we hang out by the river and wash off the dusty feeling of traveling on dirt roads all day. I began making a painting of the river and the yellow bridge and slowly we started to gather a crowd of Mayan children and young men-- all men (where are the women??). More and more people all around me, until I couldn't see the sun. After that, we knew all the kids in the area. We saw them everywhere. They would shout at us from inside building and various places-- always remembering us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-5474705997810055448?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/5474705997810055448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=5474705997810055448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5474705997810055448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5474705997810055448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/07/cuevas-semuc-champey.html' title='cuevas de Semuc Champey'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshhI9ryNmI/AAAAAAAABfU/xNy4IxhNGC8/s72-c/P1010080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-4155301868773334994</id><published>2007-07-26T18:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T08:25:03.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>coffee</title><content type='html'>So, I had a great day today. Mostly because I have crossed the intimidating boundary of comprehension!! We did a coffee tour (in Spanish) and a little tour of an orchid farm (in Spanish) and cruised around freely visiting a couple of pueblos (towns) and chatting with various people (in Spanish). Woo-hoo! I can finally communicate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recorded some info about growing coffee in Guatemala. Guatemala is one highest producers of coffee in the world. Brazil is first. Here´s the synopsis of growing coffee at a little farm called Finca Santa Margantan (photos later) (PS- this account is subject to future revision):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The farm was founded in 1888 by a German man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshgt9ryNlI/AAAAAAAABfM/ve4uGHNgQ_s/s1600-h/P1010027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshgt9ryNlI/AAAAAAAABfM/ve4uGHNgQ_s/s320/P1010027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100432920765675090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Young plants are grown under cover for warmth and protection in organic material from seed. After a year, they are transferred into plastic bags and into the ground. The second and third year there are fruit but it is a low grade (used for low grade coffee). The fourth year is high quality. Fruit is picked with it is a red or yellow color (depending on the variety of coffee). Workers are paid 50 cincuentas per pound (about 5 cents US) of coffee that they pick. Coffee is picked 5 times a year. Each plant produces about 5 pounds of coffee per year.  After the fruit is picked it is soaked in hot water and then run thru a machine to remove the pulp (skin) from the seed. The pulp is later used for organic material that is used on the farm. The seeds are washed in water and then sucked thru a pipe and deposited in a long trough to separate seeds that float and sink. The water is running and the seeds that float are pushed out the end of the trough and collected-- these are the lower grade called ´nata´. The sinkers are called ´pergamino´ and are the high quality. Both varieties are laid out in the sun for about 2 days (?) on the concrete and turned over to dry properly. Then the seeds are stored in a dry shed in canvas sacks that allow ventilation for about 6 months. The skin is removed from the pergamino and the ´oro´seeds that separated by hand so that the best quality seeds are separated from bad seeds (seeds with more or less than 2 parts in one fruit, malformed seeds, etc). There are at least three types of quality: 1 gourmet, and 2 types of Americanos). Then the seeds are roasted in a machine at 200 celsius for 25 pounds for 20 min. Roasted coffee is called ´tostado´. More time is needed for darked roasts, ex. expresso. Then, it is ground depending on the type of coffee needed, ex. expresso is more fine. Ground coffee is called ´molido´).  Here at the farm, mostly processed coffee is sold-- in Guatemala. Some coffee is exported and some of that is in the raw (unroasted) form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are about 6 main places in Guatemala for growing coffee. They each grow different varieties which are selected based on their body, acidity and flavor and these vary depending on the altitude, temperature, and soil of the location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw a few varieties of coffee at the farm. Robusta is a lower quality and Arabica is higher. Arabica requires more shade. All of the coffee at the farm need a medium amount of both sun and shade. So, there are tall trees growing in the plantation with their branches cut off. There is also some sugarcane, guava, chili, all spice, avocado, cardamon, some kind of edible palm (papa...?), beans and banana.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-4155301868773334994?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/4155301868773334994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=4155301868773334994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4155301868773334994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4155301868773334994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/07/coffee.html' title='coffee'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshgt9ryNlI/AAAAAAAABfM/ve4uGHNgQ_s/s72-c/P1010027.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-3051278211563449456</id><published>2007-07-25T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T08:33:46.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>micro buses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshi09ryNpI/AAAAAAAABfs/t4u8l3FGt5g/s1600-h/P100+%2848%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshi09ryNpI/AAAAAAAABfs/t4u8l3FGt5g/s200/P100+%2848%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100435240048014994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I''m up in North Guatemala-- on my way to the tropical forests of Central America. We ve been taking the micro buses. Really enjoy them. The front is the best. Where you can get the best view of the drivers making daring passes around semis on the curvy mountain roads. Little bit of squishing in the seats, but no where near the shady ´chicken buses´ which aren´t called chicken buses for nothing. Did I tell you that I got puked on by a poor car sick boy who was standing in the aisle? Kum (in Thai)-- what goes around comes around-- I once puked on a mountain bus in Laos. And made a terrible mess. But not on anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshhstryNnI/AAAAAAAABfc/4xkSa0ngdHw/s1600-h/P1010016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RshhstryNnI/AAAAAAAABfc/4xkSa0ngdHw/s200/P1010016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100433998802466418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been on this embroidery kick...It all started when I wanted to buy something with a quetzal embroidered on it-- but they were all ugly and expensive. I told Kari: I can do better than this. So,  I bought some thread and I've been making little animals for my friends. Here's one-- my favorite-- a marmaset.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-3051278211563449456?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/3051278211563449456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=3051278211563449456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3051278211563449456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/3051278211563449456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/07/micro-buses.html' title='micro buses'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshi09ryNpI/AAAAAAAABfs/t4u8l3FGt5g/s72-c/P100+%2848%29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-389841510167955221</id><published>2007-07-21T17:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T17:09:47.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ultimo dia in Xela</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Moving on out! My last day in Xela. Just going to add some photos here and then words later (or maybe the photos can speak for themselves....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKsuWJPeWI/AAAAAAAAAD8/XHE9qQFTy7U/s1600-h/P1010531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089820441100384610" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKsuWJPeWI/AAAAAAAAAD8/XHE9qQFTy7U/s320/P1010531.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;At school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKsUGJPeVI/AAAAAAAAAD0/GjXc81XZFRU/s1600-h/P1010543.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089819990128818514" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKsUGJPeVI/AAAAAAAAAD0/GjXc81XZFRU/s320/P1010543.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The street in front of my homestay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKqlmJPeSI/AAAAAAAAADc/9LlrhbPX3oA/s1600-h/P1010562.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089818091753273634" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKqlmJPeSI/AAAAAAAAADc/9LlrhbPX3oA/s200/P1010562.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Fuentes Georginas-- about an hour away from Xela. Hot springs outside of xela....People in the photo are friends from my language school and one of the teachers. A weekend trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKqPWJPeRI/AAAAAAAAADU/P4F6E5YPFrc/s1600-h/P1010564.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089817709501184274" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKqPWJPeRI/AAAAAAAAADU/P4F6E5YPFrc/s320/P1010564.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKr2GJPeUI/AAAAAAAAADs/drstlxO3pNI/s1600-h/P1010569.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089819474732742978" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKr2GJPeUI/AAAAAAAAADs/drstlxO3pNI/s200/P1010569.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Herbs (thyme?) being cultivated in the fields on our way up the mountain. Santa Maria. A huge volcano that required us to climb 3000 m. We could have made it-- if we hadn´t gotten lost 3 times. It was still a trip. Lots of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089819058120915250" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKrd2JPeTI/AAAAAAAAADk/PqTuDYM-uTY/s320/P1010570.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-389841510167955221?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/389841510167955221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=389841510167955221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/389841510167955221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/389841510167955221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/07/ultima-dia-in-xela.html' title='Ultimo dia in Xela'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKsuWJPeWI/AAAAAAAAAD8/XHE9qQFTy7U/s72-c/P1010531.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-4649714983586433785</id><published>2007-07-11T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T20:50:56.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>El Artiste</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I always meet interesting people on ´pick-ups´. I realized that today when I was trying to tell my Spanish teacher some of my travel stories and they inevitably begin with ´when I was in a pick-up I met this guy...´ And yet again in Guatemala: I met this guy in the back of a pick-up on the way to San Marcos. This experience stands out specifically because it was also an amazing trip down this green lush mountain overlooking the amazing blue waters of Lago de Atitlan. I was the only gringo/a during the entire 2 hour trip (consisting of about 5 different vehicles). The 2 last vehicles (pick-ups) wer the best. I have always loved travelling the back of a pick-up (reminising back to my hitch-hiking experiences in the back of trucks across western America...)-- the great view, fresh air and feeling of freedom. So this guy... very funny, friendly, making fun of me (easy to do with my lousy Spanish) , and making friends with everyone on the truck, saying : ´Que bonita! Que bonita!´ to no one in particular but the beautiful landscape.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089814410966300882" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKnPWJPeNI/AAAAAAAAAC0/jEbMuKjygWM/s320/P1010537.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;El artisto-- loco un poco. I ran into this guy again in the Parque de Central America in Xela while I was doing a drawing there. He laughed at me lots (always) thought that it  funny the way that I was drawing. Later, we ended up checking out his studio and another day we had lunch at his place. His house was quite strange. It was full-- really full-- of doilies and kitsch. One room was dedicated to his 'son' -- which I think, was him-- now. It was decorated like the room of an 8 year old boy, complete with child-like drawings on the walls. What gave it away, was the thick layer of dust on everything. There was also a school desk where you could see that El Artiste did drawings some times. Another time, I saw him at the chocolate cafe that I frequented close to my house. And he sang along with the beautiful Spanish music with tears running down is face. Recuerdos, recuerdos! He said to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089824538499185010" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKwc2JPeXI/AAAAAAAAAEE/uVhJ07qJMos/s320/P1010540.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Our painting. I gathered us all up-- 5 of us including the artist. We did a group drawing. Start on one side and then rotate it. This was the result. We gave it to the school. Its about 1 meter by 0.5 meter. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-4649714983586433785?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/4649714983586433785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=4649714983586433785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4649714983586433785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/4649714983586433785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/07/el-artiste.html' title='El Artiste'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKnPWJPeNI/AAAAAAAAAC0/jEbMuKjygWM/s72-c/P1010537.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-8133373589726468479</id><published>2007-06-21T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T21:08:38.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guatemala</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt; I´ve been here for something like a week. Everything has gone pretty smoothly, considering my extremely basic Spanish skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every flight from Brazil to Guatemala was late. I got stuck in Miami for a night and in Guatemala City. I´d been a bit nervous about landing in Guatemala City-- with its bad reputation and all. Funny, when it came to actually getting there, I wasn´t too concerned. Big groups of missionaries with different colored shirts. I caught a ride with them in a school bus to a fancy hotel to avoid taking a taxi at night by myself. Planned on crashing with a couple of girls in one of their rooms, but things didn´t work out like that. Nice guatemalan missionary took me to a less fancy hotel and I spent a comfortable and easy night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a Costa Rican guy in the ´lobby´ (more like a living room) the next morning. We hit it off great. He had a lovely hand made journal that I plan to re-create when I get back to Florida. He´s got a great system for drawing and painting on the road, and I´ll experiment with this for my next trip. He gave me a knife-- and I gave him a quarter for it. Seems that the Central Americans also believe that you should never receive a knife as a gift either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a taxi to Antigua-- the cross roads town that was my original destination upon arriving in Guatemala. Hit it off with the taxi driver. My first time speaking Spanish ever. I actually did OK. We communicated and he taught me lots of new words. He told me that he was going on to Lago de Atitlan, so I decided to continue on. I broke a major travel ´rule´ and left my bag in the car with him for a couple of hours while I wandered Antigua. But he was nice and I had a good feeling about him. He met me at the designated spot and I sat in the front with him again and we continued our conversation to Lago de Atitlan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKmFmJPeMI/AAAAAAAAACs/WofaCp-19Jg/s1600-h/P1010513.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089813143950948546" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKmFmJPeMI/AAAAAAAAACs/WofaCp-19Jg/s320/P1010513.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Got out of the minibus with a couple of Spanish girls and a German guy. The German guy- Stephan-- and me got swept along with the river created by the Spanish girls and we went with them to San Marcos. Sketchy posada. Way in the back up the hill. Quiet place. Shady guys wandering the street. One of them came up to the posada and sat with us. Repeating the same things over and over again. Weird. I voted to get rid of him-- straight up. Eventually we just all went to sleep to lose him. The next day, we decided to move to San Pedro-- apparently the party central-- not of interest to me, but what the hell. When we came down to the water to take the boat out, I was stunned. It was beautiful. Deep blue lake, like a mountain lake. Surrounded by mountains and a volcano. It was hard to separate the water from the sky. I saw a young western woman drop her daughter off at school. And everything changed. I wanted to know what it was like to live there. I talked with her and decided that we should stay. I proposed it to Stephan and we decided to stay. Said goodbye to the Spanish--good I think, like I said, they were like a river. We stayed in a lovely place--La Paz-- and spent the next couple of days swimming, sun bathing, climbing on the rocks and hiking a bit back into the hills. It really was a lovely spot. But, my mind (and guilt) has been itching and I needed to go. Spent a night in San Pedro for kicks (just to give you an idea of how weird this place was: the gringo ´manager´told me, I quote: ´I haven´t been anywhere here. I just buy and consume drugs.´)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089810889093118114" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKkCWJPeKI/AAAAAAAAACc/0ORyph3iTnU/s320/P1010498.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lago de Atitlan&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089811967129909426" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKlBGJPeLI/AAAAAAAAACk/9KgGqPRdnSM/s320/P1010506.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Stephan with a Mayan family who we met working in the mountain fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the next day for Quetzaltanago or Xela. Took the ´chicken bus´, which was uneventful, given its bad reputation. Today is my second day here and it was ultra successful. I think that I have found the perfect language school and homestay. Tomorrow I am starting my first 5 hours. Then, I´ll meet Kari in Chichi a couple of hours away and return here for my homestay. Xela seems good. I think that I will like it. 1 month? Will see.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089815072391264482" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKn12JPeOI/AAAAAAAAAC8/TNKwd9MBzUk/s320/P1010516.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Street scene in Xela on the way to my homestay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-8133373589726468479?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/8133373589726468479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=8133373589726468479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8133373589726468479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/8133373589726468479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/06/guatemala.html' title='Guatemala'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKmFmJPeMI/AAAAAAAAACs/WofaCp-19Jg/s72-c/P1010513.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-5052470561746016996</id><published>2007-06-14T15:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T18:32:10.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quando eu volvo eu voy o falar Portugues com voce...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKiOGJPeJI/AAAAAAAAACU/ToYwkqihPpc/s1600-h/P1010445.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089808891933325458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKiOGJPeJI/AAAAAAAAACU/ToYwkqihPpc/s200/P1010445.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yesterday we did a trip into the interior of the region. It is possible to get too used to the beautiful coastline of Pipa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to a waterfall-- that was absolutely full of water. It was a roaring brown river and I would´ve never thought of going swimming in it. Mario weren´t deterred and Rodriguez (Mario´s brother-in-law) and I followed him across the rocks into the falling water. It was refreshing-- water from the whole forest pounding on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was the Mouth Rock (Pedra da Boca). Lovely green landscape dotted with huge granite stones. We hired a local guide-- a good example of how traditional ethnobotany knowledge can be used in sync with the formation of a conservation area-- who was an expert of medicinal and other useful plants in the area. We climbed almost straight up the side of the rock and were just in time for the sunset. It was a perfect day. The rain only rained when we weren´t outside. And the group vibe was muito bom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089806396557326450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKf82JPeHI/AAAAAAAAACE/LhUMi2Dukvs/s320/P1010470.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Pedra da boca (mouth rock). We climbed to the top of an adjacent rocks to check out the view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mario and Roberto left me today to go on a 3-day surf trip. I´m leaving in a few hours for the airport. This was my first day in Brazil alone-- can you believe this? I had a really good time, exploring the rocks, huge sand dunes, changing light, and waves-- climbing up and down the shore that ranges from beach to sharp rocks to vertical cliffs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a comment about change (from Mario):&lt;br /&gt;Change is neccessary to feel life. For example, if I put my hand on your arm, you feel the difference. If I leave it there for a while, you get used to the feeling. When I take my hand away, you feel different. Those different feelings are to remind you that you are living life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said good bye to everyone and I will spend my last few hours in Pipa in the hammock at the lovely pousada [www.pomardapipa.com].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao ciao e beijos Brazil!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-5052470561746016996?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/5052470561746016996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=5052470561746016996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5052470561746016996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5052470561746016996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/06/cuando-eu-volvo-eu-fui-falar-portugues.html' title='Quando eu volvo eu voy o falar Portugues com voce...'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKiOGJPeJI/AAAAAAAAACU/ToYwkqihPpc/s72-c/P1010445.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-5512866240620711885</id><published>2007-06-11T13:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T18:32:55.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tudo bom, tudo bem</title><content type='html'>At this moment I am holding down the fort of the recepçao of my pousada while Mario and Roberto go surfing (in the rain). I am armed with my few phrases in Portugues. In exchange I get to use the internet. Just this morning I was cruising on the back of an off road motorcycle along the amazing coastline into town about 15 kms away. Life is funny, isn´t it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089804292023351394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKeCWJPeGI/AAAAAAAAAB8/K2gy3vQlnP8/s320/P1010421.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Pipa coastline e os surfistas.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I´m on my own again-- all of my ´Floridians´ have finally left me. But I´m with new friends, of course. Its my transition period while I prepare myself to jump countries again. More in Guatemala....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-5512866240620711885?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/5512866240620711885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=5512866240620711885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5512866240620711885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5512866240620711885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/06/tudo-bon-tudo-bem.html' title='Tudo bom, tudo bem'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKeCWJPeGI/AAAAAAAAAB8/K2gy3vQlnP8/s72-c/P1010421.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-6056883808999369341</id><published>2007-06-10T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T18:02:17.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joaninha</title><content type='html'>Vivi and Ane taught me about Joaninha. When it is raining, you make a figure out of paper while thinking about Joaninha and invite her to hang out with you. Ask her to bring the sun (trais o sol), because wouldn´t this beautiful day be more fun with sunshine? Feed her and include her in your activities (like eating crabs and drinking beer by the water). As we walked down the beach in the rain, I picked up a handful of white wet clay. It shaped itself easily into the figure of a mermaid and dried with the sun. Joaninha from Pipa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9RZNryN4I/AAAAAAAABjA/R3vEtWUomB4/s1600-h/Pipa_June2007+035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9RZNryN4I/AAAAAAAABjA/R3vEtWUomB4/s320/Pipa_June2007+035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106889996073318274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ane and Joaninha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Its the end of environmental/multicultural week here in Pipa. We participated in a jungle walk in the Atlantic forest (behind Pipa) -- which barely remains in Brazil anymore. There were also educational activities for kids, trash pick up, bicycle races etc. Last night lots of music in the streets. An accordian orchestra, a man in a rainbow ´traditional´outfit with a beautiful baratone voice and acoustic guitar, a painter-- also in a rainbow outfit, plenty of salsa-like dancers in the crowd, capoiera (of course), brass bands, string quartet etc.  Brazilians love their music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-6056883808999369341?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/6056883808999369341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=6056883808999369341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/6056883808999369341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/6056883808999369341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/06/joaninha.html' title='Joaninha'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9RZNryN4I/AAAAAAAABjA/R3vEtWUomB4/s72-c/Pipa_June2007+035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-1727586777978084337</id><published>2007-06-02T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T17:38:18.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pipa, Brazil</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKcEWJPeEI/AAAAAAAAABs/nmGL0m-kLBU/s1600-h/P1010490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089802127359834178" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKcEWJPeEI/AAAAAAAAABs/nmGL0m-kLBU/s200/P1010490.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Third week in Brazil. Where has the time gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I´m in Pipa. A lovely little beach town south of Natal. Mario-- the once-Paulista who owns the place-- has a wonderful paradise life. Over many years, little bit by little bit. He gathered some land and drew in his family. His mother planted all of the trees in the garden and has made it a refuge for huge toads, black geckoes, hummingbirds, and darling little marmasets (with children!) who ask for bananas and other tree fruits. Mario said to me the other day: "We just grew here with the trees. Can you believe that there are some people in this world who haven´t ever planted a tree?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089797939766720498" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKYQmJPd_I/AAAAAAAAABE/m90OQFnn2IU/s320/P1010419.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Garden of Pomar da Pipa. Our rooms are in the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089802793079765074" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKcrGJPeFI/AAAAAAAAAB0/0BXN8jGQ7Ss/s320/P1010411.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motorcycle ride with Mario along the cliffside coastline and around a sandy island, thru the cornfields. Lovely! &lt;/p&gt;The first two weeks in Brazil I was in a Tropical Forestry course. There are too many stories to share from this time. So maybe as I think of them I will write them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshe-NryNjI/AAAAAAAABe8/Mn_57sryfYU/s1600-h/DSC01931.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rshe-NryNjI/AAAAAAAABe8/Mn_57sryfYU/s320/DSC01931.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100431000915293746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;Drilling a hole in a tree for oil collection-- traditional method.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071482713317691218" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RmGGqGvVz1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/Bgcf2Quj1zo/s320/IFT.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The jackamee (black bird in the center). Thought he was a person, mistaken for a soccer ball-- he followed us into the forest and around camp. Our little mascot for the first week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9KqdryN3I/AAAAAAAABi4/lMWH5uW8ciw/s1600-h/P1010097.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/Rt9KqdryN3I/AAAAAAAABi4/lMWH5uW8ciw/s320/P1010097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106882595844667250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Amazon river-- It blew my mind. Imagine the biggest river that you can imagine and double this. No, triple this. No end in sight. Add some waves, a tide, sandy beach and a storm in the distance moving across the wide blue sky like a grey sheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second week we were at a riverine community in Mazagao. Swinging in hammocks on the second floor porch with a great view. My favorite place to sleep-- where you can watch the rain fall and the sun rise with no problems. I loved the mornings best. Just as the sun rises and reflects on the wet sand and river. Parrots flying from their roosting sites. Dolphins passing by slowly sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsheNtryNiI/AAAAAAAABe0/4kXPqWk3MVI/s1600-h/DSC02156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RsheNtryNiI/AAAAAAAABe0/4kXPqWk3MVI/s320/DSC02156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100430167691638306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our daily boat ride to visit houses in Mazagao. The roof was the best-- we could see 360 degrees all around with the luxury of clean, fresh air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RmGGqWvVz2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/C_koomW5_AM/s1600-h/Mazag_o.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071482717612658530" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RmGGqWvVz2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/C_koomW5_AM/s320/Mazag_o.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Group photo in the forest of Mazagao. Notice the Brazilian woman standing to my right-- she was the most fit and strongest woman I have ever met. She ran her entire forest-garden on her own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-1727586777978084337?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/1727586777978084337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=1727586777978084337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1727586777978084337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/1727586777978084337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/06/pipa-brazil.html' title='Pipa, Brazil'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RqKcEWJPeEI/AAAAAAAAABs/nmGL0m-kLBU/s72-c/P1010490.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-2711755486152526750</id><published>2007-05-08T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T12:52:14.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Latin America adventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;I'm off in two days for Brazil. Of course, I feel hesitant and unsure of my plans. If it wasn't for the dogs, I probably wouldn't feel so stressed out about leaving. But, I know that once I get on the road, all will be well and my travelling bug will kick back into high gear. So, I'm slated for Brazil for 1 month, Guatemala for 6 weeks and Belize for 3 weeks. I'm attempting to increase the time that I have in Brazil and will see how it goes. My main goals for this trip are to 1) Speak Spanish functionally and 2) Come up with an idea for my PhD research. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Stay in touch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RkDEjRVNE9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rN1bumnmY44/s1600-h/DSC04916.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RkDEjRVNE9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rN1bumnmY44/s320/DSC04916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062262091391243218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Florian, Stephane and me (Jesus is taking the photo) at Miami beach in March 2007. My friends from the Asia travelling extravaganza of 2006.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-2711755486152526750?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/2711755486152526750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=2711755486152526750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2711755486152526750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/2711755486152526750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2007/05/latin-america-adventure.html' title='Latin America adventure'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RkDEjRVNE9I/AAAAAAAAAAc/rN1bumnmY44/s72-c/DSC04916.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326420057061114792.post-5507876043405656572</id><published>2006-12-25T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T07:45:11.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New blogsite</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;This is trial for blog site number 2. I'm moving from www.arikavira.blog.com (now wiped out) because it is too hard to use and photos are too hard to download.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RZAdQwWgNeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/p8F-hzUTpV8/s1600-h/IMG_9934.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RZAdQwWgNeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/p8F-hzUTpV8/s320/IMG_9934.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5012538558957762018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Here are Thai friends and I in Vientiane, Laos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;My previous travel blog got wiped out. Here are the older posts: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Travels through the desert countries and beyond...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1048" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image001.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;December 25, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Changing blog sites &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;OK everyone. I'm moving blogs sites. This one doesn't let me download photos on it! Unbelievable. Too bad I just figured this out now-- after I get back from Asia. It is pretty much the same. When I have some more time for creativity I'll make it a bit more original from this one. Anyway, life should be more boring from now on. I'm back in Florida and moving to Gainesville to start a Ph.D program at UF (School of Natural Resources and Environment with a major in Interdisciplinary Ecology). Next big trip should be Latin America this year, and probably for the next few years following. I'll check in if I go someplace more interesting than Gainesville.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 19:03 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;December 21, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Back in the USA &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;God, its wierd being surrounded by Americans. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. I'm treating it like a new country. So far, I find them to be: very nice to dogs, quite casual and friendly, against smoking in public, bit of a cheesy sense of humor, and very helpful and non-discriminate. Also, not as expensive as I remember-- although I've only been from the airport to my house. My two dogs survived their journey in one piece, although neither peed nor shat in over 24 hours! They ran crazy races up and down my driveway when they arrived and Hengjia went swimming in our creepy grassy pond almost immediately. Needless to say, they are both cured. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 05:05 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;December 10, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Diving in Krabi &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am in Krabi. Went on a diving trip today that was partly a disaster. Bad diving company-- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;AVOID Ao Nang Dive center at Ao Nang beach in Krabi province, Thailand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;. Not well organized. I have now learned how to (attempt) to avoid it in the future-- before deciding to go with a company check the equipment first, meet the dive master, talk with the dive manager to see if s/he can explain things properly and put you at ease-- ask the right questions, and get recs from other divers. The three of us planned to do 2 dives each (morn and afternoon) and I was the only one who managed to do one! Bad equipment and organization. The owner was not a good man. We explained all our greviances with the company and he returned us a total of 500B!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;However, the second dive was very nice. We did 2 swim throughs, which are tunnels that run through the limestone rock islands in the middle of the torquoise ocean. There were loads of fish. Coral not so good. Visibility not so good. Not a terribly exciting dive, but it was a dive nonetheless. I enjoyed it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1575328.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:nonecolor:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1049" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1575328.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image002.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1575328.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image003.png" shapes="_x0000_i1049" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 14:42 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;December 03, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Min gala ba &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;This means hello in Myanmar.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I'm back in Thailand now, but thought Id try to pu in a few words about Myanmar. We are headed down to the infamous Full Moon Party for a few days and then to dive in Koh Phi Phi. Yes-- I will be careful about the mosquitoes this time around in S. Thailand. But we'll be in bungalows in tourist areas (not camping on a lonely beach) so we should be fine.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;The tourist areas of Myanmar are impressively clean, convenient, and accessible. Guesthouses are cheap (around 5$ for a single). Many restaurants serving continental food, for example, for less than 2$. A clean streetside dish of Myanmar food is about 50 cents. Their food is very nice. A curry and about 4 different types of little salads and soup. Maybe nuts and fruit, and always hot tea afterwards. Myanmar people are gentle, playful, bright and speak English very well. When you joke with them, they are quick to respond.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Yangon: A conjested city where I was continuously looking for something that I could never find. Like the internet. I was glad to leave and left for the first place I could-- the golden rock. Overnight bus ride of about 8 hours for a distance of about 150 km.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Golden rock (Sorry don't remember the Myanmar name).  It was under renovation (new gold I guess), so we didnt exactly see it. It should be a precariously perched boulder on top of a mountain with a golden pagoda balanced on top. We rode from the town to the base of the mountain in the back of a large truck. It was packed with young monks. Like a roller coaster ride the monks put their hands in the air and whee! as we went up and around the sharp curves. All forest. We (me and a Swedish guy-- 45 yrs old) made a nice walk up the mountain out of it. Super hot and humid in Myanmar. I was having a hard time acclimatizing. Literally dripping constantly-- it was an embarrassment. Lots of pagodas scattered on the mountains. Also temples on the top. We didn't want to pay the 6 $ to get into to see the golden rock-- which was covered with bamboo and cloth anyway for this week. So we just enjoyed the beautiful view from a restaurant. Coming down, we decided to visit a waterfall. We made a mistake of asking the direction from too many people and unwittingly took on two 'guides'. Ridiculous because the way was obvious, once we found it. We told them repeatedly 'No money. No money.' They were OK with this. But of course, when we came back to the trucks they wanted money. I gave them some, and then more when they asked for more. What could we do? Buddhist dharma says to give money when you are asked and more, if they ask for more. So that is what I did. Its hard to refuse someone 50 cents anyway. But the principle of the entire experience (you really feel like an atm machine sometimes in these countries) irritated us anyway. When the bus tried to force us to pay too much money for the trip down to the town, we decided to walk back. It turned out to be a 20 km walk of 2 hours. Much too long after climbing and descending the mountain twice already (up to the golden rock, down to the waterfall and then up to the buses). Interestingly, and sadly, we didn't see a single animal out there on that desolate forest road-- maybe a few birds and only one squashed snake. We can only assume that they have all been eaten.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 08:06 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1050" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image004.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;November 30, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Myanmar &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Ahhhh... Back in Thailand-- the land of freedom, good food, and lovely Thai language that I can use to actually talk to people!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Connection speed in Myanmar was absolutely intolerable. Not a good place for keeping up with a blog. I am going to have to add to this blog later. I'm super tired from arriving this morning from Myanmar. Party on the beach for the next week. Wait till I get back to Khon Kaen to write.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:50 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Email from Tibetan monk in Nepal &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Hi! arika,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Hope my mail will get you in good spirit and lots of happiness in your life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Its me, Tenzin from Pema Ts'al. How are you? We all are fine and living peacefully here in the wonderful atmosphere of our buddist spot. Tomorrow we all are going to Lumbini for the great Sakya Monlam for ten days. Monks from different part of the world of sakya sect will join there including his holiness and other high lamas. This puja is for world peace.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;ok this much for today,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;bye,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;buddha's putra,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;tenzin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;my abbot told me once that what we try to have stars from the sky instead of accepting the beautifull flowers nears you. thats why we suffer and always wonder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;pleasure of sharing is the greatest of all pleasure.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587589.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1051" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587589.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image005.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587589.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image006.png" shapes="_x0000_i1051" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;View of the Annapurnas in front of the monastery.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587521.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1056" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587521.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image007.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587521.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image008.png" shapes="_x0000_i1056" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;View of the monastery from behind. I spent alot of time exploring and enjoying the river and nearby hills.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:22 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;November 18, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Myanmar &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I'm over by Inley lake -- close to Mandalay. It took us about 20 hours to get here by bus-- a distance of about 300 kms. Unbelievably slow. A bicycle might be faster. Buses here like to travel at night and arrive in the early early morning. So today is shot (second day of travelling all night). I slept through the afternoon. Its much cooler here than over by Yangon anyway. Thank goodness for that. I've lost my ability to cope with the heat. I guess I belong in the Himalayas now.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The Myanmar people are very very nice. They like me. I guess bc I look like them. They are always talking to me in Burmese and are surprised when I answer in English: I'm sorry, I don't speak Burmese. Prices are very low here. 50 cents gets you a good meal of rice and curry, vegetables and chili paste and soup. I like it. The only expensive part are the hotel rooms (about 4$ each person)-- the hotels are taxed heavily in dollars by the gov't. But the rooms and bathroom are cleaner than in China and Nepal. This is also the first place that I've been here where I find myself buying things from the locals just to give them some of my wealth. Its like being in the middle ages where money is so scarce.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;More later in Mandalay. We are lucky to have internet out here, but it is slow and expensive. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;---------- &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;OK. This is an addition to the prior log. I found Mandalay more interesting than Yangon. I was on my own again once I arrived. Disorientated after yet another overnight trip. Got a very nice and comfortable room (own bathroom and big windows). Later found out that the generator was outside of my window and I hardly got any sleep. Breakfast is always included with the rooms in Myanmar and this hotel had a nice dining area set up on the roof. Breakfast is nice in Myanmar bc everyone in the hotel takes it and this is the time that you get to meet other travellers.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I met up with Marielle (spent some time together in Inley Lake) and a couple more French people who I met  on the bus to Mandalay. We spent the next 4 days together, along with another French guy-- Matthew-- who they had met, doing EVERYTHING that you are supposed to do in Mandalay. We rented a taxi and took trips to all the ancient cities surrounding Mandalay and did little tours within the city. We were all very happy bc none of us really get the chance to do these things bc it is usually too expensive for just 1 or 2 people. They travelled my style too. I like the French. They take it nice and slow and enjoy the finer things in life. Like a nice breakfast. Coffee and cigarette. Sunset in the evening. None of this rushing about, that I dislike. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587554.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:nonecolor:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1057" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587554.jpg" style="'width:154pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image009.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587554.300.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="156" height="156" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image010.png" shapes="_x0000_i1057" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; Well-- that is the four of us, except this cropped the photo. Having a very nice meal at a local food stand. The best food I had in Bagan. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587532.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:nonecolor:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1052" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587532.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image011.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587532.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image012.png" shapes="_x0000_i1052" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Now this is Bagan. Stunning place. Thousands of pagodas. The 4 of us rented bicycles for three days and biked all over the place, exploring these pagodas, stupas and temples. When the sun was setting we'd find the tallest one and climb it and watch the sun set. Then race back to town for a nice dinner. Exactly my style. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:25 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;November 14, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Yangon &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;So the Thai's call this place Yang-goong, which is confusing bc no one else (even the Burmese) call it that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;There is internet here! Hurray! I can't live without internet. Then I might forget all about being Thai-American and become a Burmese fisherman, and we don't want that. They just really got internet last year and the cyber cafes that they do have are kind of low key.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;This place reminds me of Thailand and India culture mixed together (even though I don't know what India is like, but I imagine that is a bit like Nepal), although the feeling here slightly (and nightmarishly) reminds me of Vietnam (but I'll cross my fingers and hope for the best, maybe only the colonial architecture?. People are quite friendly. Easy going. Few tourists so there are few touts. Lots of concrete. I've got the most ugly room for 5 $-- no windows, just a concrete block-- but at least it has AC bc it is HOT! I think that it is the rain coming. In any case, it gives me another motivation to move on out of Rangoon (Yangon). There are a few big temples around. Lots of vendors with interesting delicious food. Markets. The city is next to a river, but you see nothing bc it is a shipping dock. This is a practical city- a center of trade. It is very obvious with all of their Chinese and Indian goods and very few extraneous things. I find it quite likely that this is the most (and maybe only) cosmopolitan town in Myanmar. There are no high buildings. Some colonial architecture, but mostly looks like a typical Thai town of white plaster and concrete and few decorations. It is very quiet. There are some cars, but not many. And fewer motorbikes and bicycles. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Today I am on a mission to get anti-malarial drugs or doxycycline (check!) and a mosquito net (still on the way there). Later I may spend the late afternoon at this temple complex that is the highlight of Rangoon and maybe on par with Bangkok's Wat Prakaew. I am super tired. I haven't slept more than 5 hours a night in the past 5 days. In another day or two I will head to the west-- I want to spend some time on the coast. I figure if I spent about 2 days everywhere, that will pretty much be all the time that I have here. I feel very confident and safe here. The locals don't try to cheat you, are very helpful and easy going. Myanmar has a good reputation among the independent travellers of Asia for being a safe, easy, friendly, culturally well-reserved and beautiful place. It is also supposed to be one of the best places to travel as a single woman. So here I am.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:54 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;November 13, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Boudha Stupa &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I went to visit the owner (Mort) of Tales and Tongues bar at his apartment yesterday. Tales and Tongues is a pub I like to hang out at in Kathmandu. Mort has been really good to me: walking back in the dark to my guesthouse after closing time, helping me run some of my more difficult errands like buying thankas and most importantly, making me feel like part of the community in Kat. An Italian guy even told me the other day: 'Its quite strange, but you feel like one of the locals here. I wonder why.' I told him it was probably bc I live in Thailand; its all the same anway.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Back to the apartment: It was quite amazing. He lives at Boudha Stupa, which is that white giant stupa with the eyes that are always in the photos advertising Nepal. It is a Tibetan community so they are constantly doing their kora-- around and around the stupa. The only difference with kora in Tibet, is that they are all residents-- rather than the pilgrims you find in Tibet-- here so it is like a morning and afternoon social hour everyday for all the old people. Mort lives right next to the stupa, in a lovely community of old shops and apartments. It is a solid circle of lovely wooden buildings surrounding the stupa. Very friendly and safe neighborhood. He has this sitting room that overlooks the kora and is level with the eyes of the stupa! At the same time the Tibetan trumpets, chanting and horns are playing over the square as the sunset is setting and the pilgrims are circling. Its unreal. I loved it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562176.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:nonecolor:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1047" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562176.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image013.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562176.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image014.png" shapes="_x0000_i1047" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:23 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;November 11, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Metini &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;After i left the Tibetan monastery (I was so sad I cried), I went to Bandipur -- about 1 hr from Pokhara. It is a small village on top of a ridge. Quite traditional with cobblestone streets and tradesman representing every neccessity in the village. Got adopted by this older Nepalese man on the bus-- he had very good English and was a jeweler by trade. I spent the next 4 days with him and his family. Had a lovely time with the family and especially the children. I left there looking like a Nepalese. They like to dress me up-- give me jewelry to wear, big red tikas, and braid my hair. I have a 'metini' now. Two of them, I think. They are my 'true friends.' Like sisters. Both my age, but with almost adult children. They live in this lovely mud house that is painted yellow and blue. Like a miniature dollhouse. One day Baba (grandfather) took us (me and a tourist who I met from Ireland) on a little trek to a nearby Groom village. We drank Roxy or Loca' Liqa' all along the way. It is made out of boiling millet and distilling the alcohol. Very smart traditional set-up. The Groom people like to raise bees alongside their houses in hollowed out pieces of tree trunk. They were very kind and easy to visit with.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587610.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1058" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587610.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image015.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1587610.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image016.png" shapes="_x0000_i1058" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Me with one of the families that I was close to in Bandipur. I hung out with the kids alot and the woman in pink was one of metinis.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Then I visited Gorkha (on the way) for a night --sketchy place, but with a beautiful mountain and temple on the mountain top. Nice place for walking around. Here I met another older man and had lovely chai at his house (while his wife busted constantly-- cleaning, cooking, etc. The Nepalese women work so hard!)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Now, here I am back at the Shang-rila Guest house. Home sweet home. The guys downstairs all remember me. The white rabbit who lives in the lobby no longer has a red tika. Went to the reggae bar last night. I met the owner (American) and a few people there the last time-- expats. They remember me. Also, the baker and the T-shirt seller down the street! Tonight big party at 1905 restaurant (reggae).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Today is the big errand day. Got many things to do to prepare for my trip to Myanmar (!!)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:43 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;November 01, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Puja &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I listened to a puja (suwut mon) for 2 hours yesterday. My knees couldn't take it (sitting cross legged on pillows) so I didn't join the remaining 2 hours after dinner. I sat outside under the stars and listened there instead. They play all these amazing brass wind instruments, and a couple of conch shells, gongs, drums, cymbals. At the end of the puja, while the others are inside chanting with these very decorative tall red hats on--- the musicians came outside and played the horns, trumpets, and recorders out into the air. The recorders were amazing. I have never heard anything like it before.  The sounds were perfect (2 played at the same time) and filled the air. Some notes are held so long, you start feeling like they will never end. Then one musician wavers, and like static on the TV it falls into another note, which is held out again. Those 15 minutes changed my world. I can see why music would be considered sacred. The instruments are decorated in silver and gold. Some have precious stones fixed onto them. You should see the horns. They are almost 3 meters long and produce these deep vibrating notes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 03:57&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1046" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image023.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 28, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;People &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I came into town to get my plane ticket to Bangkok. Took ages ( 3 different trips). Its very funny over here, bc everything takes a very long time to do (they were playing chess) but the Nepalese are so friendly and make you feel good, so you never mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a bus over here to this marketplace. My next bus is the bus home-- the monastery. Its strange bc going back to the monastery feels like going home, and I've only been there for 4 days. Last night I hung around on the balconey next to my room and chatted with one of the monks. He's probably hardly 18 but I had a really nice talk with him. He told me about a celebration that they have every year in Lumpini (birthplace of Buddha). Tibetan monks from all over India and Nepal gather together around a special temple. They sleep in tents and chant together for 10 days. 2000+ monks and nuns. Can you imagine that? The whole place must resonate. He told me the last three days were the hardest because you are sad to leave your family and friends who are there. I think its like a party. After chanting all day I bet they all have a great time together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its never boring at the monastery. You would think it would be right? The kids are so funny. Always playing. Something always happening. Today a boy fell through the glass door to the kitchen. I came just after it happened and he was holding very still-- afraid to get up, and all his friends around him, staring. I picked him up by the arms and lifted him out slowly and his friends pulled the big shards of glass out of his clothes. It was amazing. He didn't have a scratch on him. One of the teachers stood over him angry and upset. He was worried about him and examined the boy thoroughly for any injuries. Then, lunch went on. Beautiful meal of Dahl baht every day (rice, lentils, curry, pickle). You get to eat as much as you want, and afterwards I'll sit outside with Kathleen (Swiss volunteer) and the older students in the sun (overlooking the mountains) and eat apples and joke. [The food is so nice. The man in the kitchen prepares and plans things for you to enjoy. Today we got a nice surprise of peanut butter with the chapati. I was thrilled. Sometimes he'll make us little tasty snacks at tea time (like popped rice or fried momos, and you know that he does it because he wants us to be happy).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Their robes are really nice. Rich colors of red, burgandy, yellow, orange. I've asked them about the colors, bc it seems like a random selection. They tell me that the Lord Buddha said that monks should wear only red, yellow and blue and they chose red bc Tibet is very cold, you see. (I asked him, Who wears blue? The Shaolin. Oh, right.) But their red clothes are a mixture of traditional Tibetan monk robes and commercial clothes. So you get a monk in a yellow ski cap, yellow Adidas football shirt, magenta fleece vest, and magenta thick robe (I hesitate to call it a 'sarong' but that is basically what it is)-- worn down low like a street kid. They even act a bit like street kids-- but are absolutely kind and well-meaning. They love football and play it too, in the afternoon (they are allowed to watch the world cup here. Tibetan monks share a common wish that the world cup would be scheduled to a different time of the year, bc that time is when monks aren't allowed to leave the monastery and monks get in trouble all the time sneaking around the village peeking in the windows during World Cup.) They love movies too. And know more international films than I do. (they demonstrate the martial arts they learn from the movies-- Yeah! Thai kick boxing, they said). They get to watch TV on the weekends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class is really fun. They like to be there and try their best to learn. I'm teaching the eldest group (fourth level) the scientific method. I told them that it would give them the skills to criticize facts and information, and help them to think systematically and find answers. I said this to them with a bent on 'spiritual paths.' It was really fun, because that is actually how I think and I have the most perfect and unique audience for it. My next class is the second level class. I'm teaching them about plants (we are pressing plants and next class we are going to label the parts). I asked four boys to go out and get little herbs with the roots and all. I got a small mango tree seedling and a small shrub! After examining the parts of the shrub, they declared that it was poisonous (one fruit burst-- he said it was a tomato, we said, Noooo. And it squirted him in the eye). Then they chucked it. (I said, Where's the plant?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And around all of this, they are chanting, reciting, practicing gongs, drums, bells, and singing bowls. It is hardly quiet. They are all preparing for the big exam. Today they did a Puja (a chant) for two hours. It is to cure a man who is very sick in the US. They all do it together. I missed it because of my three mission plane ticket. But I imagine there will be more. Everyday, you never know what they have planned each day. Tomorrow I know that they are preparing the sand for the sand mandala and I want to get in on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. Back to the Nepalese. Today on the bus, it was very funny. These three young men got on the bus and one sat next to me. It wasn't possible that they weren't going to try and talk to me. The guy next to me confers with his friend across the aisle. I can hear him say. Where? From? you from? Where are you from? I'm laughing. Then he turns to me, with a hand covering his mouth and half his face: Where are you from?-- confidently and clearly . I answer. And this repeats. Each time, he covers his face to talk to me because he is so shy and his friend pretends that he isn't helping at all. And I am laughing. They tell me that they are punk metal. The only 3 in Pokara. Their band's name is Get out. And they demonstrate, who plays what musical instrument. It was very funny. Then it was their stop. They shook my hand. Goodbye! What? (whispered) you again? See you again! Until next time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another good day in Nepal.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562148.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration:none;text-underline:none"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1045" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562148.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image024.jpg" href="http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/15935/1562148.200.p.tn.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="152" height="152" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image025.png" shapes="_x0000_i1045" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 11:51 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 26, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Chanting &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The chanting after dinner is one of my most favorite parts of the day. When the meal is over, one monk starts the chant-- dissonant and like grumbling. Then the remaining 50 odd monks join in. Some of the children close their eyes tight and chant singsong as loud as they can. The sound rises and falls, sometimes one voice stands out, then suddenly they all join together perfectly. There are some hand gestures and a few times of clapping, as well as a chime from a singing bowl towards the end, when the have a moment of silence to finish it off. Its quite amazing, resonating off the concrete walls of the dining hall.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am staying at this Tibetan monastary. Pema-tso Sakya Monastary just outside of the town. It is a very peaceful and comfortable place. I teach basic Science for 1.10 hours a day (Two 35 min classes-- very easy-- I taught them the Scientific method today.). And (if they ask) pay them 30$ a week for room and borad. They give me a very comfortable and clean room (actually one of the cleanest rooms I've stayed in this trip. With the most amazing view of the Annapurna mountain range hovering over the hills outside my window. That's what I wake up to each morning.), three good meals a day, 2 tea breaks, as well as all the boiled water I want to drink. There is a beautiful clean river outside behind the hill (I spent the afternoon there today). Its like a postcard. Clean and sparkling, with yellow rice terraces along the banks, mossy cliff in the back (with the monastery on top), hills in the background, and of course, the white capped Annapurna mountain range. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I just got over a cold, and the monastary was a great place to recuperate. I spent the entire day yesterday reading the many books they have in English (its Paulo Coehlo again). The old man in the kitchen brings me up hot water to drink every few hours and a monk gave me medicine for my cold yesterday. The monks are mostly young boys (about 55 of them, aged 6 to 18) and they are playful, friendly, bright and eager to learn. They are mostly Tibetan refugees without citizenship. Today a young monk taught me the first of the 6 perfections. The perfection of giving. I learned that teaching is the highest act of giving, bc it can last forever and continue spreading.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Every evening and morning (sometimes well before daybreak) they practice their chanting and music playing (mostly drums). Its fills the whole monastery. Not loud, just echoing. I like it in the morning. They are preparing for one of the biggest festivals that they have each year. They will build a sand mandala and have debates to see which students can move on to higher degrees of education.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I will spend about a week here. If it is very nice, I may just stay here until I have to be back in Kathmandu. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 13:12 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 23, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Annapurna &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; Annapurna was the first over 8000 meter peak that was ever climbed-- by a frenchman.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; Eight day trek. The minimum is supposed to be 10 days. I disliked the pace at first, but after a while it became very meditative. Walking every day. Climbing half a dozen impossible-to-go-on hills. We brought a tent at first and food too. We expected to camp and be self-sufficient. The first day we climbed the last hill and found a guest house that offered decent rooms for 100 ruppees each (1.25$). We decided the dump the tents and camping gear from then on and kept the food. The landscape was like Sapa, Vietnam-- green and lush, terraced fields of grain, small villages. The only difference was-- On the second day. After walking a very hard day and arriving in a grey and cold place, we saw the huge craggy snow capped towering mountains floating among the white clouds above the green lush hills. It was stunning. I had been having second thoughts about following through with the 8 days super trek but: Those are the mountains we are headed too? From then on, it became my goal as well. The walking got easier everyday. I found my pace on the third day and then got better from then on. Even after all my muscles stiffened and ached on the 6 day, the next day they were more elastic and strong. Its nice to have your days simplified. One goal: one hill. Next goal: next hill. And eventually you made it to the top. By the end of the trek, I could walk up those 200+ rock stairs without stopping. And run down the downhills.  We ended up climbing about 2000 m by the time we got to the Annapurna base camp, but that doesn't included all the up and down, up and down the hills. I don't know how many kms. I'll figure it out. Trekking in Nepal is a fine example of Eco-tourism. I think that the locals are the one who actually benefit the most economically. Their communities are very well organized-- all the prices are fixed and pre determined by the community. They have alot of rules (like no use of firewood for financial gain etc).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;The boys left me today. They headed off to Kathmandu so that they could move on the India. Maybe I'll see them in Thailand or the US. We had a great group dynamic. I will miss them. My good friends. I thought that today I would be more of a mess-- being suddenly alone and independent. But maybe I missed the time that I had alone. I am very happy today and feel confident.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 05:35&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 10, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Kathmandu &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;In a word: party. Almost everyday so far. Let's sum it up (bc this keyboard is the worst): 'dance club'-- meaning girly club with no nudity, dance club, bottle of whisky (sneak in the mixers bc they are way over priced inside), Nepalese pub-- something like a wedding reception with the singers and musicians in traditional clothes, drunk guys on the dance floor, and the audience members singing duets with the on-stage singers, techno club, techno club, rasta bar and stumble on home. Thank god for Florian, who was blessed with the most amazing built in radar for any destination, including the chocolate donut place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 14:16 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;8848 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Thats the magic number out here. The height of Mt. Everest in meters. In Tibet it  is always about altitude. How high are we? How high are we going? Is that why I feel like shit? We camped at 5100 meters as base camp Everest. Jesus-- from Spain- got very ill and found a jeep heading back down to Rongphu monastery at about 4900 meters. Florian, Stephen, and I stuck it out. I was pretty dizzy and useless once we arrived, after a stunning 2 hour hike up the mountain. Florian and Stephen took over and were great. Put up the tent, got dinner and boiled water together. We slept at 8 pm-- me bc of the illness-- and probably all of us bc of the cold and gusting wind (it reached less than 0 degrees C at night). Thankfully, Stephen and Florian also got the gear packed up in the morning as well. Bc I was certainly most useless and couldn't wait to get down the mountain. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;This trip was part of our overland down from Lhasa. I must say I didn't enjoy it too much. Not my style of travel-- I felt stuck and trapped. Always the driver controlling the situation. In hindsight, I should have found someone to hitch down to the border with me. The only saving grace was the trip to base camp. I couldn't have made it there hitching, and it was not to be missed. The scenary was amazing.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;However....the drive itself was also amazing. I've really never seen as magnificent scenary as there exists in Tibet. Everything is on a grand scale. Big towering mountains, deep blue huge lakes, rolling colorful hills and valleys, ancient monasteries, freezing gusty weather and high altitudes and add the chanting monks and devoted pilgrims with extravagant jewelry and gleeful smiles and you've got Tibet.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Approaching Nepal was like closing a book. We approached a canyon and everything  began to take on color and fresh smells. Flowers and grass, big trees; suddenly tropical. The road was literally cut into the mountain face. The clear river fell down below us and the green lush mountains towered over us, with blue sky in the background. The people were splashes of color now in bright saris and red tikas. Our Tibetan driver of 5 days left us without backward glance (damn tourists) and the Nepali border welcomed us with smiles.  I crossed the border and felt like a different person. Nepal hits all your senses. I'ver read a sentence like that before, but I've never experienced it. Suddenly music, incense, curries, bright colors, big smiles, ancient temples and chaos. I love the chaos. 'Aye-yi-yi' came from Stephan and Florian (French) and Jesus (Spain). Squeezed in the back of an old noisy bus over a treacherous road with treacherous bumps, and half the bus on the roof-- till it started raining and they crowded inside. After a few hours of this, Jesus called out to a bus guy to ask the time we'd arrive. A boy ran by singing, Relax! Relax! (Don't do it...) Which is really funny, bc Jesus is nothing but relaxed-- most of the time. Our theme song for this segment of the trip. The bus dropped us off as some little town (green and lovely with a sparkling mountain river below).  Then, we caught a ride with some Christian missionaries from India and Sri Lanka to a little town 30 kms from Kathmandu. Here we were finished, and we found a cozy little guest house and feasted on non-Tibetan and Chinese food!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 13:59&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1043" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image035.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;September 29, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Mountains and Monasteries &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I'm back in Lhasa. Something has happened to me. I can't stand the smell of yak anymore. Especially yak meat and yak butter. Even to breathe the name 'yak' makes me feel ill. I'm going on a fruit and vegetable fast for today. Maybe sell out and eat at the Western restaurants for once. I can't wait to get to Nepal and eat dahl and rice three times a day.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;All the boys have left me. I am now German-less-- after travelling for almost a month with Fabian and Martin. Martin left today on the highest train in the world to Beijing. Larry (Canada) and Steve (Scot) left for a 6 day journey to the Nepal border. I will be following them tomorrow-- hooked up with 2 French and 1 Spanish guy. Physical therapists who just finished over a year of work someplace close to Mauritius. They all speak French and their English isn't so good, so this should be an interesting 6 days.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Here's a summary of our (Martin, Larry, Steve and I) trip to  Lake Nam Tso and Reting Monastery:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Lake Nam Tso: 4700 m. Drove over a pass that was 5000 m tall. Taking photos of yak horns and skull, this young boy started getting aggressive-- he wanted money for the photo (!). I erased them to suit him, but it didn't appease him-- he wouldn't let me go by. A look from Steve-- the big Scot-- served to placate him. Amidst amazing mountain scenary, we arrived at the Lake. A huge dark blue salty sacred lake with a setting of snow capped mountains in the back. The camp site (with semi-permanent tents for nightly rent) was a mud pit, full of Chinese day tourists. But once they cleared out, all was well. We climbed up the hill next to the camp site-- it was hard work, let me tell you. Even for Larry, the Canadian mountain man. Got a great view of the 'highest lake in the world' and the prayer flags were soaring above the rocks like a thousand kites. They were mesmerizing. I've got like 30 photos of these flying flags-- like a cyclone. The wind was really kicking up-- it was no wonder that the cord tying the flags was heavy duty. As the sun fell, the water became a clear turquoise. The sunset would have been wonderful to watch, but the wind and the dropping temperature chased us back down. The next morning, me and Larry climbed the hill on the other side of the camp. A storm was coming in (I had already gotten hailed on when I went out to watch the sun set. Never been in hail before. It was interesting, until one got me good on the eye.) It was a startling contrast, the fresh bright morning sunlight and blue sky versus the approaching dark billowing storm clouds.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Reting monastery: This was established by the first Dalai Lama and it is said that if the present Dalai Lama were ever to return to Tibet, he would come here. This was surprising news to me. Considering that it took a good 2 hours with a 4WD thru the most spectacular mountain valley I have ever seen to get there (Even Larry agreed-  and he's been to some beautiful places in Canada). The monastery was small-- nothing elaborate about it. It had been destroyed during the cultural revolution and rebuilt. That may have had something to do with its humbleness. We were able to get a room at the monastery. Basic, simple and with character-- just the way I like it. It was the only hill with trees-- junipers. Lovely. Down below us was a clear, shallow, crashing river. Like in Sapa. Around the valley were high green hills. Larry and I took a walk in the evening down towards the village. The villagers were very friendly. We took some photos of them and their yaks-- they were using the yaks to till the earth. We couldn't work out what in the world they would be planting with the approach of winter and of course, we couldn't ask either. What a shame! Not to speak the local language. I would have loved to spend a night in a Tibetan household. I am sure that they would have been happy to have us as well.  Lots of birds. I counted about 10 different species in this valley.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;On the way back, Dawa, our driver stopped at his Momma's house. Our first entry into a Tibetan household. They were very friendly. Fed us very rich yak butter tea (best I've had in Tibet, probably the real thing. They take green tea and pour it into a blender. Chuck some yak butter in it, blend and Voila! Rich and salty and filling yak butter tea), very light and fruity local beer, steamed and fried bread, boiled yak meat, sliced boiled dicot (?) tubers, and yak sausages. Let me tell you about the sausages: Martin couldn't get it down. He said, 'I swear I will throw up.' And held it in his hand. We told him to eat it. And he said, 'I can't. My grandmother makes these things and I really just can't eat them.' I think it was intestines stuffed with blood, spices and grains. Not so bad really. Then, Martin wanted a cigarette. He said, 'What shall I do with the sausage?' We told him to stick it in his pocket, and he put it on the table instead. There it sat. We told him, that he should take it with him when we left. So, take it with him he did. Into the car. 5 minutes later, I asked him, What did you do with the sausage? He said, What do you think? I laughed. I said, Oh. I thought that you just liked to hold it. However, it has not been the end of the sausage. Here I am back in Lhasa, and even the thought of that sausage makes me nauseated. Hence the first paragraph if this entry. I don't know what has happened to me-- the curse of the sausage. I should have never eaten it. Now who's laughing?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 04:31 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;September 24, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;PSB &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Not exactly sure what it stands for, but translates as Chinese Police. They make travel quite difficult, under the guise that they are responsible for our safety. Safety? The PSB is the only threatening force out here.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Monica and I decided to visit the Samye Monastery-- the headliner for the U province. We were told that we needed a special permit and a tour group. We decided No and No. Off we went on the bus. I was nervous. She didn't mind. The bus dropped off us in the middle of no where (150 km outside of Lhasa).  All of the pilgrims on our bus looked at us expectantly to get off the bus.  The ferry had 2 other tourists-- Chinese. Luckily they spoke English. The ferry boat driver didn't seem to think that there were any police. The bus driver on the other side didn't seem to think so either. Arrived at the monastery no problem. Set in a circle. Monica said that it was unique to other monasteries that she had seen, bc it was on a low lying valley floor. The decoration and images of the deities are the same as all the other ones that I have seen (once you have seen one, you have seen them all). But the atmosphere was very local and Tibetan. Friendly and laid back. Nice little local restaurant with a variety of local foods. Very basic guesthouse. I was happy with it. But we wouldn't dare sleep on the mattress without a sleeping bag. We watched a healing ceremony for a couple of hours. They make all of their symbolic items with yak butter (very useful stuff, yak butter). Actually they use yak for everything: yak milk, yak meat, yak butter, yak hide, yak fur-- you name it, they use it. Explored the extensive monastery, enjoyed the amzing view, gawked at the awkward China town that they are building outside of the monastery.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;The next day we hiked up to the top of a nearby hill. The little building at the top was yet another room with Buddha images and, of course, was complete with a lone chanting monk beating on a drum in the smokey room. There were pilgrims up there too, burning sage (?) and hanging up prayer flags.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Leaving the monastery was yet another mission. The locals are helpful and told us how to avoid the PSB (not that bus, the other one). Getting back to Lhasa involved a tour bus full of Dutch, a ferry boat that broke down half way across the river, walking around the dock area to avoid any PSB who might be there waiting for tourists, walking 2 kms down the road in the direction of Lhasa, hitching a ride with a Chinese dad and son, fancy bus to Lhasa, local bus to the area of our guesthouse, and then 15 minute walk to our hotel. Mission. And we were deadass tired when we arrived. But feeling fulfilled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:36 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;September 21, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;On the roof of the world &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Did you know that the average altitude in Tibet is 4000 m? Altitude has been figuring into my life alot lately. I'm at 3500 m here in Lhasa and I'm not allowed to go anywhere for a few days (Dr. Martin's orders). I escaped today to a monastery about an hour out of town, and then found out I was at 4500 m without any ill effects.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Gundan monastery is perched high on the moutains. Rectangular buildings clustered together and overlooking a flat, plain with a shallow sprawling blue river and mountains, some snow capped, in the background. We went with a bus load of pilgrims. Tibetans-- Tibetan style-- men look native American with long braided hair often wrapped around their head with red silk thread. Both men and women wear smock-ish dress. The women often have many braids with turquouise and coral beads across their hair. They are lovely happy people. Smile and laugh alot. I wish that I could talk with them, bc they seem to want to talk to me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Monica (Austrian, 31 YO) and I followed the pilgrims as they walked around the moutain. They were looking for auspicious things: collecting sand from the rock and in holes, touching special rocks. I followed them through their little obstacle course: under the rocks and thru a hole, slide down the flat slanting rock (they whoop and laugh as they go), squeeze in the narrow crack between the rocks, walk under the sweeping prayer flags across the path, climb over the rock, pull on the cord tied on the rocks, tap small rocks on bigger rocks, add pebbles to dips in the rock etc. I figured, I may as well-- it seemed to be doing them alot of good. Then, of course, paying respects to the various buddha images, gods, spirits, and deceased holy monks. I'm a bit confused most of the time, but I try to do everything Thai style-- grahp in what I think is the main image, wai at all the rest, light incense at some random spot (they don't seem to use incense here), don't touch the monks, give money to the poor people outside the temple etc. Then we entered the prayer room. About 100 Tibetan monks. One head monk was chanting 'Om' with that special echoing sound of many voices-- deep and unearthly. We sat and listened for about an hour-- meditating a bit (later I thought, I was probably supposed to have my hands in a wai, but as I said, I am confused most of the time). The prayer room was huge, cavernous, full of Thankas, religious paintings, and prayer flags.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Monica and I are planning on staying at a monastery that is supposed to stunning. We couldn't get the special permit required bc we need to be part of a tour group. So we are going to wing it. I'll be back in a couple of days. Everything in Tibet must be well planned bc there are so many restrictions against foreigners. More plans coming up....&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 11:03&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;September 18, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Goodbye Yunnan &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I'm sitting in the bar of my little guesthouse. Sort of surreal: listening to tribal style electronic music, lit candles, the design of the bar is rustic complete with a woodstove and a yak skull over the fireplace. Its cold outside and raining, so I'm wrapped in a shawl and wearing boots and a hat, sitting at a low rough wooden table. We got our tickets to Tibet today. So we are off! China is so huge that I felt like we travelled as much as we were still. Some stories to finish off Yunnan:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Martin, Fabian and I took a sleeper bus from Kunming to Lijiang. They gave us the back-- a huge bed all to ourselves! Very cozy. We made ourselves comfortable and made fun of all the people in front of us with the tiny beds. Apple cheeked children played peek a boo with us from the bed below. The bus started up and a man comes back to tell us to move over. We squeeze over to one side and the man makes himself at home. Next to Martin. Poor Martin gagged-- who says Asians don't smell? As Martin demonstrated, the man slept like a rock the whole night with one hand down his pants. The TV with Chinese music videos started and the only speaker was directly above Fabian's head. True to character: he says, I like. But after an hour trying to sleep, no one could like it. How could we sleep? We found out that our cozy little den was the bumpiest place on the bus! The worst. I tried to sit up at one point and my head narrowly brushed the ceiling after one surprise bump (That could have been bad! I told them. Very bad). Everytime the bus stopped, I got out. Nothing is worse than having to lay down for 10 hours without sleeping. Once we stopped and I used to bathroom-- an outhouse on top of a freezing windy building, pitch black (why the roof?). We arrived in Lijiang. Lovely old town of cobblestone streets. I was in good spirits and Martin in the worst. It didn't help that we got lost immediately and wandered around endlessly in the labyrinth of streets. But I always love the early morning.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Kunming: the food was terrible. It was my first place in China. I found that I couldn't eat anything. So oily! Everything.  I even used the remainder of one of Fabian's meal to oil my boots-- and I must say my boots are in great shape still. I was so sad. I said, I can't eat. I'm so sad. What will I do? I have rarely found myself in the position to say such a thing. Thankfully, after Kunming, the food was wonderful. We like the tiny local restaurants the best. The smaller the better. I found soy milk (hu jung) and fried bread pretty quick, and it is my favorite. Actually, just the other day, I enjoyed a bowl of noodles and Martin and Fabian found the oil hard to get through. One more hurdle overcome!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Bathrooms: I have overcome my disgust and intolerance for dirty bathrooms. No longer, must I hold a tissue over my nose while I am in the bathroom. It is gearing me up for India. No problem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;High altitude: Zhongdian is at 3000 meters. And I feel fine! Martin, the German with the Alps, actually suffered a bit. And I have been having a wonderful time wandering around everywhere. We are ready for Lhasa-- it is at 3500m. We are told in the guidebook (Martin is the reader and the medical student, so he keeps me informed), that we must ascend at 200 meters at a time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I bought a sleeping bag today. Mountain Hardware for 40$. Now my pack is too full. Will be overflowing. Still got to gear up for the Tibetan weather: rain gear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 13:16 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;ZhongDian, Shang Ri-la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Fabian left us and it has left Martin and I disoriented and sad-- me anyway-- Martin will see him again soon in Germany. Fabian is one of the best. I have been lucky to have met some really special people on this trip. I would count Noi (Xieng Khuang, Laos), Sa and Ku (Sapa, Vietnam), and now this one. People with clear eyes and heart, who make you truly sorry to part with them when it is time to go.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Zhongdian has become a crossroads. What to do? Should I go on up north to the Tibetan regions and visit the villages and trek the glaciers? But I am alone. Or fly into Tibet? Tibet is looking more like the best option. It would give me a way into Nepal and help me to avoid this one week Chinese holiday (first week of Oct). As Meni, a very nice Israeli guy I met here the other day, put it-- Are you prepared to compete with 3.6 billion Chinese for a bus/train/plane ticket? Easy answer: Not me! So Tibet may be the best option. If all goes well, I'll be writing from Tibet next.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 01:45 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;September 16, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Tiger Leaping Gorge &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Lijiang: Big town with a fantastic old city of cobblestones and tiny stone shops. Many craftsmen/women. Something similar to Aleppo in Syria. Hordes of Chinese tourists. Sort of like Disney world. I hear that the old city was rebuilt after it was destroyed in the war. Just wandered around lost all the time (but not really lost). I like the early morning best. And spent 2 mornings wandering about. Once, on my own. I watched some local women at a traditional spring: the top spring is for collecting drinking water, the middle is for washing veggies, and the last is for washing clothes. Its cold and rainy here. Foggy. But just makes it all the more mysterious.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Chinese people can't be bothered with you too much. I sort of like it that way. If we could speak Chinese, I am sure that they would be very inviting. Even though they over price things alot, they don't really cheat you. I thought about it a bit and realized that the difference between overpricing and cheating is how you feel in the end. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; I convinced Fabian and Martin that 1 day in Lijiang was quite enough and we headed off for Daju-- a tiny Naxi village set in the mountains. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Daju: Beautiful drive through the mountains. The driver was kind enough to stop briefly at a tourist spot along the way-- after I exclaimed delightedly (and loudly): Yaks! My first yaks and they were picture perfect. Standing in a very cold water fall made up of small limestone pools (like in Yellowstone NP). Just why they submitted themselves to standing in the freezing water, I don't know. The local people put them there I guess to wait for tourists to sit on them and take photos. (This was funny, these very 'traditional' people had a whole set up of high tech digital camera, computer, and printer out there next to the waterfall!)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;We arrived in a tiny little Naxi village. Woman of the guesthouse spoke very good English. She made us a lovely meal too. She had only two rooms and we were the only tourists.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;We set off for the Gorge the next day. Got lost immediately. But no problem. Hardly any trees. Just agriculture fields and grazing lands. Crossed the river with a ferry. Walked on the road for ages trying the find the hiking trail. We walked 20 km and didn't reach it that day. Went with a man to a little hotel on the edge of the gorge. 2$ a person. Gorge is spectacular. Postcard perfect, once again. Towering craggy and green mountains-- blocking out the sun. The gorge is one of the deepest in the world. The Yangtze River runs below us-- muddy brown and furiously fast. You wouldn't have 2 seconds of a chance if you fell in there. The next day we found the trail and walked a marvelous route along the cliff face, high above the road. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;We are in a hurry to reach Zhongdian bc Fabian must leave to return to Germany soon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 11:21&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;September 11, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Kunming, China &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Here I am. New country, new city. Chinese people are very quiet and subdued, although very polite and helpful. It is quite cold here and rainy, a bit. I'm still travelling with Fabian and now his friend, Martin, as well-- both from Germany and very good guys. We are heading out today for Dali. Kunming is not very nice. Just a typical modern developed city. But very clean and quiet. The motorbikes are electric.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Funny incident yesterday. We left our bags with the 'manager' of the bus station for 20 minutes while we got some breakfast. When we returned, the man demanded 40 Yuan! (the cost of a room at a hotel). We said, no way. And he threatened us. Telling us that we wouldn't be allowed to get on the bus. We went to put our bags on the bus anyway. He got really angry and started yelling and then pushing Fabian around. Now he was just a little 5 foot skinny Chinese man, Fabian is an over 6 foot tall German. Fabian was really good, and just asked the man to stop. Till another Chinese man interferred and yelled at the man to stop. We got on the bus no problem (and laughed and laughed about it-- so crazy)-- all the passengers had been watching our little drama. Maybe the man was crazy. Possibly the janitor. Just made an empty room into his office. It should have tipped us off that he wrote: 'VIP person' in permanent marker on the sign over the door and pointed it out to us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 04:16 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;September 09, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Sapa &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I just spent 3 nights in a H'mong village in the most beautiful place I've ever seen. We had the best time! I am travelling with a German guy (25 yo), Fabian. He's good. Travels my style, so we are having a good time. He speaks some Vietnamese-- so makes it much easier for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fabian (met him in Hanoi) and I decided that we wanted to get off the beaten track. He likes the wildlife and I like the villages (and the wildlife). Since guides are ridiculously priced-- not to mention, who wants to travel in a tour group-- we decided that we would just go for it. Rented a tent and off we went. Immediately met some Hmong people. A middle aged smiling woman, asked me 'Where are you going to stay?' I said, 'With you!' And she smiled more deeply and looked happy. I asked her where she lived and her village was very close to the forest that we were aiming for. Off we went, with her and her daughter. Down the road. Down the mountain. Stunning. Terraced rice patties and and green tall mountains. Clear river in the center. Big rocks. Hill tribes in their traditional dress, carrying baskets. Sa and Ku speak English very well. Lovely and smiling-- as they like to say: “Shiny and smiling. Fabian always crying.” Sa is 40 and Cu is her eldest daughter at 20 years old. Their little wooden house is set in a tiny little dip in the rice patties. All green and yellow rice plants. Clear clean air. Sparkling river and streams. Breathtakingly beautifull views. Everywhere you look is like a post card. Sa's family is wonderful. Very happy. We laugh alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come away feeling half Hmong. Sa gave me huge hoop earrings and Cu, bracelets. I bought some hemp clothes from them in exchange. I'm climbing the hills like a mountain goat now-- just like them. They taught me to wind hemp together and strip them from the branches. I've brought along some raw hemp, to practice along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are heading for Kunming today. He's meeting a friend there. It is good that I have a travel partner into China. Bit nervous bc neither one of us know the language. But I hear some places they speak Thai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 09:17 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;September 05, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Fighting but holding my own &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I must say quite plainly that Vietnam has been shit. The country is beautiful, the culture is interesting and unique, and the food is amazingly diverse, but the people are awful!!! I never thought that I could say that about anywhere.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Here is an example of just the past 2 days-- imagine everyday being this way: Yesterday, I lost my temper big time getting super ripped off over a train ticket. Dirty old man in the park started making moves, and I was just daring him to go for it-- I promise you I would've punched him in the head, I was planning on it. At 2 am after hanging out at a great club, a man in a pedicab tried to convince us to go the wrong way to our hotel, so that we would get lost and need his services. We ended up getting a cab just to escape the street people, and the cab went in a huge circle to drop us off like 50 m from where we began. Today, a woman was physically not allowing me to get off the mini-bus bc she wanted me to go to her hotel. I had to fight her off and push her out of the way!! And they wouldn't open the back for me, so I had to drag my bag out over the other passengers heads! Unbelievable. Just a minute ago I tried to ask for directions to a street and a man wouldn't tell me (or let his friend tell me), bc he wanted me to go to his hotel. Even the villagers try to rip you off (we got a motorcycle into the countryside in search of nice people). I am starting the get the hang of things though-- I'm becoming a hardened and seasoned traveller. Bottom line is: trust no one (who's local anyway).  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The only reason I haven't left Vietnam yet is that I had doubts whether or not I was being a good traveller. I have concluded that its not me, its the country. This is the first place I'd say, stick with tours and the Westerners.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am in a particularly beautiful place now. I am hoping that it will redeem my time in Vietnam. There are mostly ethnic hill tribe minorities here. And it is full of rice steppes and fog. It is in the mountains and the coldest place in Vietnam. I am hoping to make a little trek around the area, but will see what happens.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Tonight is the first day that I have been alone-- and its by choice. Been meeting really great travellers all along the way-- I guess that we are all in the same boat. Tomorrow I am meeting up with a German guy that I met in Hanoi. Hopefully we will be able to plan out an independent trek. He is also going to Kunming, China next so I may tag along with him, if Sapa doesn't appear to be looking up.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 15:04 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;September 03, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Cat Ba National Park &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Beautiful karst limestone hills everywhere! Green and lush. However, big tourist spot and it takes away from the magic of the place. Hard to make a move without a tout pestering you. Everything costs something. And the prices seem to change random and erratically. Tried to plan a homestay in the National Park, but we were quoted a crazy price (25$ a person-- not much in the US. But loads over here. I asked them why a village in the middle of the forest would ask so much and what we would get out of it and they said 'A chicken?' Tried to plan a hike, but same thing happened. Tried to go kayaking and camping around the islands, but the price of the guesthouse at the first island (where you rent the kayaks suddenly doubled in price and the island had an atmosphere like the YMCA. What we did manage to do: rent a motorcycle and cruise around the island. Stopped and talked with villagers. Visited a school with lots of happy children. Hung out with some workers who were building a road, then took a short walk into a stunningly beautiful valley with fruit trees. Had a wonderful local meal at a roadside restaurant in a village. Stopped at a bay with an amazing view of the karst limestone formations in the water and learned more Vietnamese from some motorcycle taxi drivers. Watched the sunset from the side of the road at the top of a mountain. The next day, took a boat trip into the islands and swam in the blue green water, explored some caves and took in the amazing view. I have to say it is prob the most beautiful island that I have ever been too. Yes, it is like a scene from Jurassic Park. We were only missing the dinosaurs (or any animals for that matter, the Vietnamese eat them all!)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;In Hanoi and heading out towards the north soon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:43&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1041" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image036.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;August 30, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Laos to Vietnam &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I'm in Ninh Binh, Vietnam. I'll summarize my trip from Laos to Vietnam just to let you know how crazy travelling is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; After being in Laos and seeing almost zero westerners for a week or so, my little 'song tew' to the border had 3 westerners and one Thai guy who was a researcher from Khon Kaen U and was good friends with a good friend of mine in KKU! It took us a few hours to get to the border (got stuck for a half hour or so bc they were re-doing a bridge). Arrived at the Viet border in the blinding sun. No prob with immigration although they thoroughly check your bags for something. Got on this huge bus that was full of bags of rice (or something). You had to climb over the mountain of bags to get to your seat. The bus filled up quickly (there are only buses into Viet on Sat and Sun, so we got lucky). Got ripped off immediately (they charge double for foreigners. The Thai guy told them that we were both Laos so that we could get a discount, but I couldn't pull off Laos very well). Then it was a horrendous 9 hour drive through the mountains in a packed bus with no AC. We didn't stop for food or drinks. Maybe got a couple of 15 minute breaks along the way. On the back of a seat in the front of the bus, someone had written ' THIS IS HELL' and that pretty much sums it up the trip.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The Thai guy (Chai), James (California, 20 YO) and I got off at Thanh Hua-- just for the hell of it. It was funny to all work together trying to talk to the Viet people.  Chai was on his way back to  KKU so that he could get back to work-- he left us shortly. Me and James starting wandering around at 10 pm at night trying to find a guesthouse and not able to speak a word in Viet. We had a guide book and tried to point out phrases to the Viet people but ended up in front of a 5 star hotel. Then a young guy on motocycle stops and offers to take us to a cheap guesthouse. He spoke English and was a student of Science. We said, why not? And got on 3 people. He took us to a couple of guesthouses till we found a 5 $ room at a really cozy place (hot water, TV, mosquito net, fans, hot tea etc). The owner was super nice and chatted with us in Vietnamese, even though we didn't know hardly 2 words.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The next day we walk out of out guest house and find ourselves in a bustling medicinal plant market place! Loads of people everywhere on bicycles and conical hats. It was unbelievable, but there were no cars! Only motos and bicycles.  A lady called to us and had us eat breakfast-- kanom jean noodles, roasted little pork paddies, vinegar with ginger, ad piles of fresh veggies-- super good! The rest of the day we wandered around talking with Vietnamese people -- only speaking Vietnamese, let me tell you, you learn fast when you have to-- I got James to try some betel nut from an old lady, drank viet coffee at a dark and murky coffee shop, chatting with an old man with a long beard who spoke french and serenaded James with a Vietnamese theatre song. Later, James stopped to buy cigarettes and the seller was a Viet woman (24 YO) from Germany on vacation visiting her relatives! Hannah and her sister and a friend from Denmark went with us to look at a nearby church. Then a seriously beautifully old buddhist temple. Then, she arranged a taxi for all of us to go to the nearby beach-- we ate spring rolls and sour pork (Nam) on huge rocks overlooking the ocean. There was an antique buddhist temple on the mountain, which was prob the most beautiful temple I have ever seen. We finished our lovely day with a walk through the town and local ice cream at small tables on the street.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 15:00 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;August 25, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Laos epilogue &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;This may be the last post I have on Laos, since I'll be making an attempt to cross over to Vietnam tomorrow. (I tried today at a different border crossing and plans went awry, which is why I am back here in Xam Neua on the internet).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Thanks to mom, I've got the Chinese gene that makes me all horribly red and puffy when I drink. Well suddenly, I don't have that problem anymore. I get pleasantly pink (the Laos people tell me 'gnam gnam'- very pretty-- I thought that they were making fun of me, and I'd make a joke about how attractive red and puffy is, until I realized that they really meant it.) I guess that gene is now either destroyed or just hung over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I forgot to add the topper to all 'unfamiliar' Lao foods. Remember that green bottle of whisky? Well, after we finished it (Keo was so drunk she got sick and passed out, and she's a good drinker. I was still happily tripping around, but slightly ill.), we came home to a small welcoming dinner for Keo's boss who had just arrived from Vientiane. Keo's co-workers went out and got a 10 kg unborn cow fetus and boiled it all up. That's right. Chopped it all up and chucked it into a pot. The whole thing was in there. Except for the head, I think, bc I didn't see any eyeballs floating around, although I have to admit that I didn't look very hard. I did, however, notice a hoofed leg sticking out. But I didn't take that piece. I preferred to delicately munch on the unknown bits. After Keo recovered, I told her that there was an unborn cow fetus in the pot. She said, 'Really?' (brightly). So I brought her a bowl. She said, You're not eating? I told her that I was full. Then Noi walks in with a plate, saying, This is the best part. I can't tell you what it was but I'm sure that I once studied it in Biology Lab 101. I'll call it a spleen, bc that the sort of word it conjured up. I can only describe it as a flat-ish pink complete body organ made up of two lobes that filled the entire plate. Anyway, it jiggled momentarily when she put in on the table. And I considered sticking a spoon in it to see what it would do. But, thought, maybe today isn't the day for this.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;[Noi told me that this dish is a delicacy in laos. It is very expensive at about 50B a kg (1.25$). You have to order it from the butcher ahead of time. I guess so the butcher has time to find a nice fat pregnant mom cow for you.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 14:17 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Why North Laos is mountainous &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Yesterday night I had a beer with this Lao guy that I met at the guesthouse that we were staying at in Sup Bao (town at one of the local border crossings to Vietnam). He was from Xieng Khuong so I asked him about the Bigfoot. Here's what he told me (in Laotian, so I may have missed some of the details):&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The 'Tha-Kuk' is a huge giant from many thousands of years ago. He was in the process of preparing the land to grow rice. So, he tilled what is now Northeast Thailand and Southern Laos. That is why they are flat. Just as he was getting started on Northern Laos a little bird (he forgot what kind of bird) came and asked the Tha-kuk to carry a huge bamboo stick for him (or her). The Tha-kuk, of course, said Sure. And put the bamboo on his (or her) shoulder. But the bamboo was so heavy that it cut into his shoulder and into his chest and killed him. That was the end of the Tha-kuk and that is why Northern Laos is so mountainous. Today, the Tha-kuk's footprints can still be seen in Vietnam in Northern Laos. Huge footprints that can be seen clearly from the sky.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Not exactly the story that I was looking for, but just as interesting.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am leaving for Vietnam tomorrow.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 12:31&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;August 22, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Xam Nua &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I just arrived today. Xam Nua province is about 2 hours from Vietnam. Drove in with Keo’s boss and another one of her co-workers. Crazy drive, but beautiful—through the mountains for 6 hours !! but only about 120 or so km. Now so we are hanging out in the organization's house and-- of course-- drinking more beer and rice whisky (I’ve escaped to use the internet—opportunities are far and few). There are about 8 of us here now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;The city is lovely. Tiny. Nestled in a small valley surrounded by loads of forests and mountains. I just remembered today, that I once watched a Discovery show on the Bigfoot of Laos, who lived in the wild jungles along the Vietnam border. And here I am! Where are you, Mr. Bigfoot?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Today I went to the fresh market. Nothing terribly exciting. Pretty much the same as Thailand, but we get more local wild veggies for sale. I was told the Lao people prefer to collect for personal consumption, rather then sell, bc the market isn’t developed. But a lovely market (within walking distance from our house) with lots of fresh local veggies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I’ll leave with a few of the co-workers in a few days. They are going in the field to a village to stay the night (I'll go too) then they will drop me off at the border of Vietnam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;BTW—I forgot to mention the food. Yes, the food. I have never run into so many things that I was reluctant to eat (and I pray, pray, pray I never eat dog or cat. No more Salabows for me!). Here’s a list of all the ‘unfamiliar’ things that I have had an opportunity to eat: pre-shit of cow made into chili paste (very bitter, fairly good, once you forget that it is shit), huge fried crickets (I only just tried a thorax today, fatty tasting, like potato chips. They call them ‘underground singers’ in Laos), grilled eggs with a chicken embryo inside (I got to the embryo and gave up), boiled cattle intestine (I suggested that we purchase something else for our beer snack), smashed up frogs in chili paste (I’ve actually had this in Thailand and Laos before, but it seemed more appetizing then), and Mang Da—water cockroach—chili paste (I never get used to this, who wants to eat a cockroach??!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;They eat a lot of meat here too. I may be becoming vegetarian. It is really terrible to see the chickens, ducks, geese, and pigs squeezed into tiny cages and hyperventilating in dehydration and fear until someone grabs it by a wing or a leg and stuffs into a sack, to slit its throat later—if it has not already died from all the suffering. Horrible. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Also-- I've learned to meaning of Poverty. It is the lack of opportunities and choices. Contrary to popular belief, it has little to do with money, happiness, and material wealth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 15:33&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Phonsavahn, XiengKhoung (Plain of Jars) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I’m having to back track here, bc I haven’t had much access to the internet at all. The electricity and the internet has been out almost the entire time that I was in Phonsavahn (capital city of XiengKhoung province).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I’ve been hanging out with Keomany (good friend from Vientiane) and her co-workers of Consortium (US NGO). They are working on a project called LEAPSS, which facilitates and teaches villages to raise silk worms and spin and wave silk for an alternate source of income. Her co-workers are great people. Very few women. Me and Keo are just some of the guys. In the evenings, as part of the culture (they tell me), we sit around and drink! Lots! More than I ever have before. Its even worse when we go in the villages, bc after the work is done. Out comes the gigantic green bottle of rice whisky, and there we sit eating a lovely local meal of sticky rice and chili paste and everything else tastey they have to offer. To refuse the first shot is bad manners. But, you can’t just have one shot, bc how can you stand on one leg? So down goes the next. And wait, just one more before you leave. But, now you’ve only got 3 legs! So down goes number 4, and then I start sipping the rest, till we are all wasted (but the driver, and he really has to protest, and someone else has to drink it down for him) and stumble back into the truck to return to the office. No wonder, the field staff only do one village a day! I can’t imagine having to do 2 or 3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;We stay in the organization’s huge house, ranging from 5-10 people at one time. Nice cozy house with all the home conveniences (including washing machine!).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Did you know that Laos had 3 million tons of bombs dropped on it during the Vietnam war, by the US? That was the total population of Laos at that time..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I stayed in Phonsavahn for a week. Made some good friends. More notably, Cum Dee (guy, 20 YO) and Noi (girl, 22 YO). I learned a lot too. Considering doing my Doctorate’s research here, collaborating with Keo. But what am I going to do about all this whisky?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Tags: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://arikavira.blog.com/Laos/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Laos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 15:00 | &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://arikavira.blog.com/983067/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Permanent Link&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; | &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://arikavira.blog.com/983067/#cmts"&gt;&lt;span style="color:windowtext;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Comments (0)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; | &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;August 13, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Vengvieng, Laos &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I've only made it 3 hours N of Vientiane (laos capital). Staying at an organic mulberry farm. Waiting for Keo to catch up with me. Its quiet and peaceful. We are part of the community. We teach English in the evenings and make lots of friends. The villagers are very friendly. Easy to sit and chat with them. By the river, there are two girls. They call me 'Ouoy! Ouoy!' and tell me that they will wait for me until I return to play with them (go swimming, eat wild sugarcane, walk around the village, paint my fingernails with crushed orange stones...) Sometimes I walk around and sit and chat with people. I am learning the meaning of silence. Just sitting together. I gave a woman 25,000 Kip yesterday. She needed to take her grandson to the hospital, and I was there. She asked me for it, so I asked to visit her house. Bamboo hut, with dogs tied inside-- source of food. TV and DVD player. Young kids and mothers, watching karaoke. Elderly man told me, they were chased down the mountain by 'enemies. 'Who?' Enemies. 18 years ago. So now they all live together: Hmong, Khamu and Lao Klang. They smile alot, with straight white teeth, and are beautiful people. Light brown eyes, sometimes slanted. Often porcelein skin, maybe freckles. They are poor-- they tell me-- but are very happy.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Teaching english.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1038" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" style="'width:24pt;height:24pt'/"&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="26" height="26" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image037.png" shapes="_x0000_i1038" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1039" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" style="'width:24pt;height:24pt'/"&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="26" height="26" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image038.png" shapes="_x0000_i1039" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1040" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" style="'width:24pt;height:24pt'/"&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" width="26" height="26" src="file:///Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image039.png" shapes="_x0000_i1040" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 07:44&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;August 05, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The times, they are a'changin' &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Its time to go again. Off on a new adventure. I'm heading north. Laos: visit my good friend Keo, in Vientiane and meet her new baby. If she can, we'll travel together towards China. Yunnan, China: Head towards ZhongDian to meet up with Anthony, from University of Hawai'i, who is finishing up his research up there. Then we'll see how possible it is get to Tibet, Nepal and India. Khon Kaen-- I'll see you in 4 months! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:20 |&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;'The Zahir' by Paulo Coelho &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘… in order to live fully, it is necessary to be in constant movement; only then can each day be different from the last. When they (nomads) passed through cities, the nomads would think: The poor people who live here, for them everything is always the same. The people in the cities probably looked at the nomads and thought: Poor things, they have nowhere to live. The nomads had no past, only the present, and that is why they were always so happy, until the communist government made them stop traveling and forced them to live on collective farms. From then on, little by little, they came to believe that the story society told them was true. Consequently, they have lost all their strength.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘No one nowadays can spend their whole life traveling.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘Not physically, no, but they can on a spiritual plane. Going farther and farther, distancing yourself from your personal history, from what you were forced to become.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘How does one go about abandoning the story one was told?’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘By repeating it out loud in meticulous detail. And as we tell our story, we say goodbye to what we were and…we create space for a new, unknown world. We repeat the old story over and over until it is no longer important to us….As those spaces grow, it is important to fill them up quickly, even if only provisionally, so as not to be left with a feeling of emptiness.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘ How?’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            “With different stories, with experiences we never dared to have or didn’t want to have. That is how we change. That is how love grows. And when love grows, we grow with it.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘Does that mean we might lose things that are important?’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘Never. The important things always stay; what we lose are the things we thought were important but which are, in fact, useless...’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;But….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘If you tell a story, then that means you’re still not really free of it.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;            ‘I am free, but, as I’m sure you’ll understand, therein lies the secret; there are always some stories that are ‘interrupted,’ and they are the stories that remain nearest to the surface and so still occupy the present; only when we close that story or chapter can we begin the next one.’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:08 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1037" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image046.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;July 07, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Tioman Island &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am now a proud PADI. I love diving! I hear that diving is the most affordable in this part of the world-- with some of the most beautiful spots! Loved Tioman Island. Great people, great energy, great scenary. I got a little seaside bungalow for 25 Ringgits (6$). I went with Eco-divers because it felt right. Instructor was Malaysian with very good English and seemed quite competant. Jeff turned out to be a great instructor, and I feel pretty well-educated even though the course was a bit too fast (my doing-- I only had 4 days on the island). The course pretty much took all my time, but I welcomed the pace. It was nice to be learning something so intensely. Alternating between reading on the porch overlooking torquiose water,  diving from the shore and the boat and hanging out with great people. There were only 2 people in the class- -me and a girl from England, Annabelle, who was ethnically Phillipino.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am sorry to leave Tioman so early, I was just getting to know people (last night went out for a grilled fish feast and had drinks at a beachfront pub). I could have used at least a few more days. Lots of hiking to be done and snorkling. The reefs are so beautiful! Very peaceful. Developed just the right amount. The Malaysians are super nice! It is a welcome change to meet nice and non-pushy people in the tourism business. When they say Hello to you, they actually mean it-- and don't just want to reel you in to extract every bit of loose change from you (hint hint-- the Thais). Malaysian food is also superb. Maybe its bc I have been in Thailand too long, but I think that I like the Malaysian food better. Sort of a mixture between Thai, Chinese, and Indian. Great curries!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am back on the road again. Got a plane ticket out of KL tomorrow morning. See you back in Thailand!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 04:35 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;July 02, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Mersing &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Did you know that Malaysians travel like crazy on sundays? And book all their tix in advance? Very un-Thai.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;I've titled this entry Mersing, because it has been my goal for the past 4 days and I only just made it today.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;After leaving Tamara Negara NP, I found myself stuck in Kuantan (a fairly large city)-- being told to wait 6 hours for an 11 pm bus. There was no way that I was going to arrive in a new town at 2 am in the morning. So I looked for other options. Thank goodness Nat and Julie left me with a Lonely Planet. I found the closest town on the map-- Cherating-- backpacker spot. Perfect for me. Unfortunately, a solitary female traveller needs backpacker company (really unfortunate, bc Malaysia is perfect for getting off the beaten track. Really missing Ivan at this point. One male companion would definitely help to immerse into the Malaysian culture.) I negotiated a bus (3 Ringgits-down from 10 R bc I didn't have any change) and got dropped off at a lonely intersection. Evening was approaching, so it wasn't the best situation. Malay woman at a little stall told me to walk towards the coast 2 km. 'Down that (dark and scary) road?' I said dubiously. "No taxis?' No taxis. Sketchy road-- forested. Didn't help that teenage motorcycle gangs were passing by and whooping at me (I got my mace out). Luckily, I turned the bend and found civilization. Certainly not 2 km. Little tourist mecca. Met a woman from Hawaii (married a muslim). Very friendly and we chatted for quite a while. Then, Canadian skater boy (who gave me a whole new perspective on travelling-- he meets up with other skater dudes in all the major cities that he goes to around the world and they show him around.) who rec a guest house with lots of other backpackers (I was truly worried about being in a guesthouse with only local Malay tourists (don't trust the men-- as i learned quickly in the Middle East, muslim men often get the wrong impression way too easily. Allow me some generalization here).   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;It quickly became quite apparent that 'lots of tourists' here in Malaysia is on a totally different scale from Thailand. 'Lots' meaning more than 5 people. I got a nice little cottage for 25 R (5$) from some very friendly Malaysian owners. Very peaceful. Lots of friendly locals around-- with great English. The next day, I planned to leave, and met a friendly and funny Malaysian guy (28 yo), Noah, who I had an interesting conversation with (or rather he said interesting things, bc I didn't get a word in edgewise). In any case, he reminded me that I was being too goal oriented and should allow for some diversions. He was a batik painter, so I decided what the hell-- it was already noon anyway-- and settled in to make a batik. All day batik with UK girl, Harriet (only 19 yo!). We had a great time, laughing and examining each others batik. That night Noah invited me to see a local band. Good thing I invited Harriet-- he thought it was a date! He started getting too close, so I put an end to that pretty quick-- and decided, Yes, it was time to leave tomorrow. Anyway, the pub was nice, good cover band, and everyone watching the England-Portugal game (my first viewed football match-- still boring). We all laughed alot and it was fun. I hadn't been out to a pub in a long while, so it was good for me (although beer was way too expensive).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Today, I left at 7.30 am for Mersing-- again. Found myself stuck in Kuantan-- Again! It was sunday-- all the buses (like 4 of them, you'd think they'd have increased the bus traffic on Sundays in anticipation) were full. What to do? In the bathroom, I had a brilliant idea-- what about the local buses? No one thinks for you -- just possibly one of the transportation people, who I kept returning to to present them with possible alternative travel scenarios for their approval, could have suggested it. When I mentioned the idea to one of them, he cocked his head and said, Yes. And told me the way. So I went to the local bus station and found my way out! Off I went on the local buses. More interesting too. I ended up in some nice little towns. Made a lovely female muslim friend who worked at the bus station. I treated her to lunch (this was funny, I forgot to pay for my b-fast this morning and this british guy I was talking to during bfast covered for me-- I saw him later. He said don't worry about paying him back. I said Thanx! and decided, that I should then, buy someone else a meal to make up for it. The opportunity came up immediately for lunch!). Later talked with my bus driver who finally brought me to Mersing-- he spoke Thai! He said he hadn't met a Thai speaker in over 10 years. He was happy to talk to me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Tommorrow, I will finally get the Tioman Island. Planning on getting PADI certified. See what happens next.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Here's what I have realized on this trip to Malaysia: I like travelling alone! I didn't think that I had the guts or the stamina for it anymore. But I think that it is good for me. Lots of interesting things happen. And the longer I travel the more I can trust my instincts. It takes a few days to get into the flow of travelling. I just found it today. And now I have to leave on Saturday! Damn almost expired passport, Malasian immigration, and non-refundable, non-changeable, non-transferable, and expensive return Air Asia plane ticket.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 13:43 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1053" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image053.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;June 29, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Taman Negara National Park &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;    Yesterday we made it to Kuala Lipis (little town) to spend the night. Woke up early and left for the National Park. Boat up the river. We made quick our plans-- since Nat and Julie are on a time schedule (flying out on Fri). Arranged to hike 8.5 km to Lata Borach camp site. Left late-- around 2 pm. Followed the river upstream. This NP is boasted as the oldest rainforest in the world at 150 million years old. Most of the tourists are western. Only two other tourists (Brits) at the campsite.&lt;br /&gt; Campsite was rustic to say the least. Nat had a hammock, but me and Julie were limited to two skinny little benches, about a foot across. We pushed them together and slept foot to head. Amazingly, there were no mosquitoes, so no need for a mozzie net. Lots of leaches on the trail though. River was clean an beautiful (next to campsite).&lt;br /&gt; Really well maintained NP. Lots of places for camping. Bridges well built. Signs on the trails. You could go trekking for at least a few days straight in this park.&lt;br /&gt; The next day we made our way back down the river to make it to the the canopy walk-- left behind by some researchers. It was really good! High and at least 300 meters long. Broken up into about 50 m increments and tied to huge trees.&lt;br /&gt; Tomorrow, Julie and Nat will begin their journey home, and return to Kuala Lumpur. I'll move on towards the east coast to an island called Pulau Tioman. Planning to get my PADI SCUBA certification.    &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;List of animals seen: Malaysian sun bear (climbing down a tree), monkeys, monitor lizard, skinks, flying lizard, hornbills, squirrels, king fishers, and saw some footprints of a fairly big cat (feet as big as my hands) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 14:59 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;June 27, 2006&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Malaka &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Malaka is the origin for the Malaysian Kingdom. Beautiful architecture...traditional wooden houses are on stilts with pointed tall roofs (like Thai). Entry ways have an interesting concrete staircase with bright colored and intricate tiles. The city are tall narrow buildings, brightly colored. Archways and pillars. There is a river in the center of the city. We took a little ferry cruise yesterday-- amphibious fish and monitor lizards. Lots of arts and crafts and museums. Food! So good! Malaysian food has many curries and some similarities to Thai food. Last night had Indian food on banana leaves with about 6 different small dishes ber person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The religion here is Muslim, Hindi and Chinese buddhism. The different temples are pretty much right next to each other.  Muslim is dominant. People are friendly and smiling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 01:43 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1054" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image060.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;November 09, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Remember-- check your bills!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;At the airport. Difficult journey thru the city (damascus). Like always. Got fleeced by the taxi driver. He traded me some bills for a 1000 Syrian bill (about 20 dollars). All the syrian money I had left to buy some presents and get to the airport. Bastard gave me a lousy bill, and I spent an hour trying to get rid of it. Ended up at the Central syrian bank-- which of course was closed-- in front declaring 'Ma fee floos!, ' which means 'I have no money!' The employees were all going home, and said 'come back tomorrow in the morning.' 'Mis mooka!!' -- 'I cannot!' and made some signals about flying away to another country today. More gestures. More people. I had a small crowd. Sympathy. They understood. A man pushed 50 Syrian into my hand. I tried to give him my 1000 Syrian for it. He said no. Another man gave me 100. Then a couple more 50's came in from the crowd. An important man came out of the bank, and another man took my 1000 and pushed it into the man's pocket. The important man, shrugged, and pulled out 500 from his shirt pocket and handed it to me. Victory! Thank God for kind Syrian people.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 14:42 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;November 08, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Desert walk&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Left on the bus from Deis e'zeir to Palmyra. Played it by ear and thought to stop by a castle on the way. Got off the bus with another local man. Looked convenient bc there was a huge truck sitting there by the road, waiting to pick him up. Took a look around and noticed: nothing but desert, not road, just sand and bushes. Next obvious step was to get in the truck with the man. We took off into the desert. Some tents and concrete buildings around. Sheep. A few camels. Arrived at a couple of tents. Appears that they were once nomadic people. Probably asked to settle by the government. Concrete building. But probably not in use. They sleep and eat and spend time in the tents. Women thought that we were funny. What were we doing here? Good question. No sign of this castle. Man motioned off in to the desert: it was over there some where. Men all look like the quintessential Arabs-- long 'dress' and the red checkered cloth on his head. the women were colorful-- long skirts. Layers. Black hejab (head scarf). Older women with tattoos. They were private, no invitation to stay. So we said, thanks for the ride. We will take off for Palmyra now. They gave us a ride half way to the road. And we walked the remaining couple of Km. A rainstorm was coming. Strong breeze. Beautiful falling sun. Land went on and on-- flat sand and small bushes. Lovely.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 17:39 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Deis e'zeir &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I am in a little town called Deis e'zeir. It is in the desert. Actually about 200 km from Iraq. But no problems here. I saw a sign for the highway to  Iraq. Someone gave me an Iraqi bill with Saddam's face on it. sure to be a collector's item. Sorry to hear that Bush made it into office. And sorry to hear that my absentee ballot never came to me in Khon Kaen. All is well .INternet is pretty bad and very slow. Town has lots of shops. Everyone is very friendly. They all want us to have tea with them. And are always urging us to get out of the hotel and stay with them at their house. Last night stayed at the house of a Kurdish family, close to the turkish border. THeyy were a family of 12 (!!!) children. THe father's sister had 13 children. All together their generation of 4 siblings had almost 50 children !!! It was raining and cold there so we came south to the desert. thinnking to visit a very ancient city in the desert called Palmyra-- where the queen Zenobia was buried. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 17:27 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;November 03, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Lost in the ancient city of Aleppo&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Leaving Aleppo. A seriously old and ancient city. Mazes and labyrinths of old city. I have been frustratingly lost countless times.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;First night in the city, I separated from Ivan and decided to meet him at the hotel. Couldn't find the damn thing. ARound and around in circles. An old man noticed me and said something to me in Arabic which I translated as: I see you walking in circles, can I help you? Another man came to talk to me in English and before you know it I was surrounded by about 15 Arab men. All trying to help me. The only clue I had was the room key which was useless. There are like 60 hotels in the area and all the same! They walked me around, talking to people and hotels. Told me not to worry, that in the end I would be found and all would be well. Finally they said, don't you have anything? Papers? Passport? Yes! I have my passport. And I opened it and.... Bingo. Hotel card. They cheered and a man walked me back to the hotel to make sure that I got there OK.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 11:13 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1055" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:15pt;height:11pt;" print="f"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file://localhost/Users/ArikaV/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image067.png" title="坖綋㌌㏶뫀͎"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" grouping="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 30, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;midnight castles&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Headed towards the coast. Found the major towns a bit too big and busy. No problem. Found a nice looking castle in the guidebook. Thought that we could stay the night there. Castle on the mountinain was empty save for a drunk bum. We found a nice cathedral in the castle and decided that it would make a nice place for sleep. Our little dream was wrecked when the little bum came looking for us-- he told us that we could not stay there for the night. But instead took us on a night tour of the castle. Huge!! Like a labyrinth. He knew every nook and cranny. He was after some money, but he didn't get a dime from us-- we left him after he started trying to get a little honey from me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Went down the mountain to a crappy hotel. Ivan went down to pay the room, and the boy who was showing us the place came in to the room-- which didn't have electricity, so we used candles. He was trying to communciate with me: put his hands in the air, snapped his fingers and shook his hips-- dancing. Then made the universal sign for money. OK. Think I got it. Absolutely not. I showed him my left hand: married. And I kicked him out. Ivan came up and said, funny. The boy took him to a room and asked it I would dance for them. They would give him 500 Syrian pounds: 10 $. Ivan said, sorry. Not enough.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I was glad to leave. And we took off for the Mediterranean coast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 11:10 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 26, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Castles, drums and Che Guevera&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; In a tiny town called Misyaf. Came here to see a castle (nice and old, no tourists. Just wandered around at our leisure). People are super nice. They stop us (with my friend Ivan-- who speaks enough Arabic to make things nice and easy) and give us food and such. One man told us to come visit his house across the road, so we went to take a look. To our surprise it was like a castle, complete with arches, rounded ceiling and courtyard. Nice carpets and couches. His family greeted us with some cold dessert in cups. In the middle of the room was a full-on drum set, and pictures of Che Guevera on the wall. The son came in and gave us a taste of his talents: wind chimes, various perscussion instruments. Then his old father joined in with an Indian-style drum. Turns out the son is in University as a musician, travels around Syria and to Lebanon etc -- you wouldn't think so in such a tiny town. Tonight we will stay with a nice family (who fixed Ivan's bag) and then take off for a big castle about an hour away. No worries about me. Everything is good. The syrian people are unbelieveable.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 18:10 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 18, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;fasting and the sexes &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Just a few words.... Here at the airport and got plenty of time to hang around on the internet for a bit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;It is fasting month for Muslims. This means that no food from dawn till dusk for everyone. Even if you are not muslim, it is respectful to participate in the fast in front of other people. The only exception are people with health problems/reasons and travelers-- people who will not remain in the same place for more than 10 days. (Although I am at the airport with my bags and stole some bites of a sandwich I made and got dirty looks from an older couple sitting in front of me).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Separate areas on public transportation: Totally thankful for this. The first time Vladimira and I were on the underground metro, we got on the mens side. (She said, that's funny. There are only men using the metro). Luckily (or unluckily) we got seats, and sat down facing like 20 men, who were ALL staring at us. Scary. It was totally packed. At every station-- even though the car is full-- more men get on by pushing and shoving. super hot and hard to breathe. I thought that we were lucky to get off alive. The next time we got on, we discovered the womens' side. Peaceful, quiet, plenty of space. You could sit on the ground, no problem, if there weren't any seats. Lovely.  So-- consider the separation of sexes a privilege.  (and the women get the front of the train : )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 12:19 &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 17, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;good bye Iran! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Cleaned up all my loose ends-- mostly meaning getting the Syrian visa worked out. So all is well and I am off to Syria tomorrow. Must say that I am glad to be leaving Tehran-- which is much to crazy for me. But I will miss my Iranian friends-- Simin-- who has been so incredibly kind to us-- like an angel, really. Vladmira left tonight and I miss her already. She was a perfect travel friend for me-- I can only say great things about her and I hope that we meet again soon. We have a hundred funny stories between the two of us now. Iran was so enlightening to me. I completely see the Islamic world differently-- I understand it better and it is lovely-- like all religions are (or should be). The hospitality of the Middle East is akin to Asia-- they are overall kind, considerate and generous people. This desert country is unique indeed. It must be one of the last frontiers that can still be considered 'exotic.' I will definitely try to find more time (and money) to return again and explore the area a little bit better. Until then-- let's try Syria!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 22:33&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 16, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Harrassment&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Apparently, men out here believe that women are like property. You know, you find a bit of money on the ground, so it is yours to take. A women without a man (more specifically an Iranian man) is a free for all. They cop a feel, and the best reaction appears to be: let them have it! Chase them down and give them a good wop, accompanied with some cursing and yelling in whatever language you can muster up. They never fight back, bc it is unbelievable that a woman would have the gall to be so agressive. We were walking on the edge of a park, four women. One of the other women (Agata, about 23 years old from Poland) has been here studying here for several months. A man brushed by and put his hand on her thigh in passing. She immediately turned around and ran after him with full speed, leaped in the air and pushed him hard with both hands, yelling in Farsi 'You can touch your mother, but you can't touch me!'-- he went spinning away. And another group of Iranian men, laughed and cheered and clapped. It was so great.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 05:56&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 12, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Shiraz&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Bus ride was nice. We sat in the front and watched the upcoming hills, desert landscape, old mud ruins, and sheep/goat herders pass us by.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Shiraz is a bit too big for me (like Tehran and Estaphan). But it is full to the brim with important historic places. The grandeur entrance into Shiraz is lined with ancient steps, maybe for an amphitheatre-- must be hundreds of years old. Found a good guesthouse (upon rec of Vladimira friends who were here last year) and haggled them down to 65,000 rials for the room-- about 7$ US.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Next day. Wandered down the street to a magnicent citadel. Jsut part of the landscape. Four towers on each corner. One is sinking into the ground and is crooked. Like the leaning tower of Pisa. Met a Uni student on a bench and he gave us some advice about visiting places. The president is in town for the day. So things are quite busy at the major mosque of the city. He took us to a mosque that was similar, and not in the guidebook: The entire interior is covered with tiny square mirrors! Magnificent! Like as room full of stars. We were given a sheet to cover ourselves. And curled up on the ground next to the wall to lean back and take it all in. Interesting discssuion with him about religion. He says that he is a lazy Muslim and does not pray 5 times a day like he ought to (and Muslims must pray 5 times a day, or not at all). Buddhism is mystifying for him, and monks must not be a good thing to be-- given all the rules for men (they can't touch a woman at all?! not at all?!) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;He guided us to Hafiz's tomb-- with a lovely garden inside-- and left us there as he had another appointment. It was full of people. And it so happens that it is the annual festival for Hafiz's tomb today! So entry was free and it was very festive indeed. We discovered the tea house quite quickly. Inside a small courtyard there were little spaces along the wall just big enough for pillow, carpet and up to 4 people. Small trees for shade. Birds. Traditional Iranian music echoed. We got ice cream and tea and dreamed away for a couple hours. Really needed it after all the fast traveling.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 17:27 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Estaphan&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The bazaar in Estaphan is amazing. Over 400 years old and a maze of permanent shops and sellers. Lots of handicrafts. A visitors paradise. I managed to escape with a lovely metal painted plate, a bed cover (hand printed) and  rug (had to get a rug, even if it is only 1 foot by 1 foot). The bazaar is at a square, which is the size of a foot ball field. On three sides are 2 mosques and one wooden palace. The bazaar is inside the wall of this square, I can't imagine what an overhead shot would look like. The mosques are unbelieveable. I can honestly say that one huge dome inside a mosque is the most incredible feat of human engineering and artistry that I have ever seen-- completely covered with hand painted tiles (a motiff of yellows and blues), and HUGE!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Teahouses are lovely. We found a little place inside of a bridge crossing the river. The ceiling was entirely covered with dangling antique lamps and carousels. Seats were in the windows which were lined with pillows and carpet. We ordered some tea and a water pipe and puffed on some flavored tobacco overlooking the river. Next teahouse was a place in the square of the bazaar and we spent the rest of the night drinking tea and puffing on a water pipe overlooking the mosques and palace of the square.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 17:08&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 10, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Kashan&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;After the conference I left with the 3 Iranian female students to the university. It turned out that the town that they took me to, Kashan (pronounced Ka-sha), is a fairly well know place for visiting. Relatively, that is, since there are very few visitors in Iran. The town is an oasis town-- there was running water everywhere. It was refreshing for the body and spirit to be around so much water in the middle of the desert. Iranian weekend is Thrus and Fri. Two of the students took me on a full-scale tour aroudn the town: 3 gigantic old houses. Really amazing. Huge Iranian mansions. Cannot really explain here--photos would help. Also, lovely garden with old bathhouse. Houses date back to about 200 years old. They are being restored. The rest of the town was quite small, with short square houses (to reflect the sun) mostly made of adobe (mud). In the distance were high mountains and all desert. The students were completely hospitable, I had to keep slipping money in their wallets to keep up my end of the share-- they kept saying, no problem, you are our guest. Iranian people love guests: Thailandia, Italia, American. We love all guests. In the evening (after one night) I got on the bus for a city 3 hours to the south (called Esphahan). Now this was no easy matter, bc Iranians hardly speak any english at all. The students worked it out by taking me to the bus. Getting my ticket. Leaving instructions in Farsi with the bus driver to get me meet Hamid (my contact, bc I was trying to meet up with the tour from the conference). The bus driver took this responsibility quite seriously, and even ordered the single man next to me on the bus to leave the seat and let me sit by myself. I felt obliged to let the driver know that I was safe and sound when I finally found Hamid.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 19:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;October 07, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I just presented my paper today at the conference. It was 25 minutes long. I got really good feedback! Everyone was very interested. After wards, many people came up to me to congratulate me on my presentation and research. I am glad that there is so much interest in traditional medicine.Usually people seem to be more interested in how to apply results from studies of traditional medicine in Western medicine.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Today is the last day of the conference. Today I will leave with 3 Iranians female students (the ones mentioned in the last entry) to go to their university about 3 hours from here. Then I will meet a Czech female friend (a Ph.D student from the conference-- we get along great. Laughing all the time) in a famously beautiful city, Esfahan, about 3 hours from there on the next day. It has been so good here. An Iranian prof at the conference approached me and asked me about my plans-- when I told him that I would go to Esfahan, he insisted that I come to stay at the University guest house of Esfahan and allow him to take us on a tour of the facilities. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Iran people are incredibly kind hearted and very nice. It is easy to get around. Today I went to the city to run errands and the confernence organizers wrote on a piece of paper for me to give to the taxi driver. They are not like taxi drivers in Bnkk (shady). Tehran is very safe and clean and organized (besides the traffic). I think that the Tehran drivers could beat a Bangkok driver any day.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Last night an Iranian woman and her son took us (a couple of profs and grad students like me) on a tour around the city. We went to a very interesting gorge which wound up the mountain. It was a big place for entertainment (something I didn't expect in such a strongly adherent Islamic country)-- which consists of very lovely bohemian style teahouses (with carpets to sit) on-- I think also, alcohol and they have water pipes (tobacco). Apparently the gorge winds on and on-- if you keep walking you will reach the end in about 2 hours.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Amanda-- you would be interested to hear that the woman who took us up the mountain has a Master's in Midwifery. as well as in Medical education. People in the middle east really embrace traditional medicine and alternative ways of healing-- it is a nice contrast to most couontries.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The conference itself has been wonderful. The entire--I mean ENTIRE--community of registrants and organizers have all been of the same mentality: friendly, warm, sincere, and very kind. I am so glad that I came. I feel like I have started some good relationships with people (of academia) who share the same interests as I do, and that we will be able to continue our relationships in the future.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I have also purchased a ticket to Syria for the grand total of : 145$ US !!!! So I will be able to tell you about Syria and Jordan as well. Talking to a Jordanian yesterday (a prof who I feel will be a good friend) he explained the situation between Israel and Palestines (syria is bordered by them). It is quite sad, and seems to be unresolvable. If the US and Europe would just keep there hands out of the middle east-- all would be well. It is unbelieveablehow screwed up everything is here, bc of Europe and US designating new territories upon will and without the consent of the people who actually live there.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Posted by Arika at 10:34&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:3"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;October 06, 2004&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal;mso-outline-level:4"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;beauty and God &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;While waiting for my room in the University guest house, I was approached by three young Iran female students. I was waiting with my new friends from the conference (it is as conference onTraditional medicine and materia medica) who were all Male and from various countries: Jordan, Germany and Britain. One of the girls did the talking-- she was wearing a black sheet that covered her, but required that she hold it around her body. She held it to her face: furtively. Like she was blocking out the men around us (and the men kept their distance). And invited me to visit them in their room in the guesthouse.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;The room is like an appartment (mine is the same). Very nice. Kitchen. Living room, bedroom. They were eating bread and yoghurt and inivited me to join them. Their enlgish was quite good. They wanted to see my handwriting: English and Thai; as a fetish, they said (surely not the right word). They were delighted that I drew them a little bird as well. They told me about the Islam religion. I told them that I was Buddhist. They approached the subject of women and covering up. And their view on America ('It seems that President Bush hates us very much')&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;They have arranged marriages. They love their parents very much and believe them to be their best friends' in the world-- that they could never choose wrongly for them. The parents find a man who is like them and introduce to the two for marriage. Both the man and woman are kept away from the other sex until marriage-- so for both to meet, it is a new and fresh experience and of course love grows between the both of them. The family is very important bc it is the foundation of their lives and for the country. So, the family is alwas included in all important decisions. Of course, something as important as marriage should be a decision that is made by the elders-- who are wise and know and love you more than anything/one in the world. Possibly (my interpretation), the parents actions are directly influenced by god and they believe in the actions of the parents whole heartedly.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Covering up: No, it is not the idea of men. The women here and in Turkey (Suni Muslims) decided to do this on their own. Women are very beautiful and must be hidden.Why hide a man who is not beautiful.Yes, a man should be  responsible for his actions, but what if he isn't (talking about rape/sexual assault)? It isn't like money and the thief-- money can always be found again. The women's beauty is for themselves-- they choose to keep it amongst themselves and for god. It is how they express their love for god. To keep themselves beautiful, pure and safe-- like a treasure. Only the husband is the man who they will allow to have a relationship with them, but besides that, they belong to god and themselves.  They love their coverings (a big thin black sheet they warp around them) it makes them feel safe. They have no interest to interact with men. This is their wall to them.Why give men the opportunity to take their (women) beauty with their (men) eyes? It is not theirs to take.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#FFCCFF;"&gt;Posted by Arika at 06:48&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7326420057061114792-5507876043405656572?l=arikavira.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/feeds/5507876043405656572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7326420057061114792&amp;postID=5507876043405656572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5507876043405656572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7326420057061114792/posts/default/5507876043405656572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://arikavira.blogspot.com/2006/12/new-blogsite.html' title='New blogsite'/><author><name>Arika</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14575671166826582367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_FfxS9w1S7nI/RZAdQwWgNeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/p8F-hzUTpV8/s72-c/IMG_9934.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
