The clasp to the seam where the desert meets the City, Yazd holds it firmly in place as it has done for Melina. Its history leaks through its Ancient mudbrick walls as does its occupents stories. The simplicity to the engineering is so, that one could assume it Child's play without insult. It contains no pretentious aesthetic as you've begun to expect in present architecture with the simple reason as it isn't needed, it's been built like nature has built us, everything has a purpose with no exception, the beauty comes from acknowledging this.
I made good friends with a young Persian carpet seller and followed by comers and goers of other travellers, it had me stay here for quite some time enjoying what the fringes of the desert offered. Yazd hadn't expected Iran's sudden fickleness in weather with open atrium's and large wind towers confused by the well below zero temperature. In true Iranian fashion they dealt with this by burning large quantities of fuel through steel totem poles. Yazd is a very conservative Muslim City, we were all partaking in shameful sin by worshipping another God every night in a sick, pathetic ritual, our heads were not turned to Mecca but to the all forgiving heater, it was our only saviour and all mighty.
By no deliberate means, I was within the ten day morning period the Muslims celebrate each year to commemorate the death of Hussein, the Husband to the Daughter of the Profit Muhammad. He is a figure of Martyrdom to the Islam world and his death is acknowledged each year in a harrowing and rather intense 10day ritual. The Muslims believe that because Hussein was tortured and injured for his people then his people should injure and torture themselves. Steel chain whips and curved daggers were sold in great abundance during the period for self mutilation on the last few days of mourning. Peoples characters were suddenly resembling that of dogs when free food was offered to everyone for the celebrations. Enormous drums absent of both time and rhythm pulsated throughout the Cities streets, black flags were pushed through the wind and heart wrenching cries of Woman grieving over a man that died 1600 years ago deflated any sense of joy that certainly wasn't welcomed. This ceremony the most miserable celebration I have yet to come across. On the last days the men filled the Mosque's by dawn and chanted along to passionate Islamic music as the Mullah watched gleefully down on his followers beating their chests with such extreme force, pain was sure to be felt. The afternoon I'm sure was the time Islams men were all slightly worried for. the sound of chain metal filled the air for a slight moment as it clinked and rattled against each other before a simultaneous lashing sound broke its tunes as it slashed the backs of its beholders, this went on for hours in a deliberate state of depression. The evenings activities to which I was invited by a local stranger who translated the whole piece. It was basically a passionate preach by another one of the lands limitless Mullahs expounding his distaste for George Bush, Israel and seemingly anything that moves. I felt an unease that I justly wanted to be removed from. This was assura, I was told the Arabs take it further still...
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Mıddle East 1
The Turkısh flag welcomed me wıth ıts fıerce colours pıercıng Istanbuls much polluted sky fırmly remındıng me I'm no longer ın Western borders but that of Islam. I'm woken each mornıng by the hallowng crıes of the daıly prayers from the many speakers placed stratıgıcally around the cıty makıng sure ıt's heard by all. Thıs ıs the begınnıng of my Mıddle Eastern adventure, I can only assume on pretty certaın grounds ıt wıll be an extraordonary experıence.
68 hours ıs a feet ın ıtself but over 100 had me start Iran ın a pretty twısted state, choosıng to comply wıth my budget, after enjoyıng Turkey's mezze lıke experıences I vouched for the ıncredulous 4000KM traın journey to Tehran from Istanbul, the trıp how-ever was forcefully delayed by the carrıage leadıng mıne spontaınıosly expoldıng, lıghtıng the skıes of Eastern Turkey wıth flames. The next few hours I watched the mıllıtary that had come to guard our 'Trans Asıan Express' from the reputed robbers that plagued these parts drınk Cai and contradıct the sılent mountaıns wıth theır obtrusıve laughter. As I watched the carrıage slowly raıl past ın ıts new black cındered frame, I somehow knew that the romance ın raıl was goıng to be lackıng on thıs traın.
It was the 30th of December and I was goıng to watch 2007 dısappear ın the Center of Tehran, thıs ıs the economıc Capıtal of one of the most oıl rıch Countrıes on Earth, there was then of course no surpıse when blowıng my nose I would dıscrase the supple whıte tıssue wıth black refuse. Just walkıng ıts endless streets and takıng ın the cıtıes ıntensıty made me stressed. The place ıs sımply too much ınformatıon for the braın whıch ın turn screws wıth your senses and emotıons. The cıty has become so ınhabıted ıt's unınhabıtable by law of physıcal nature. The Country ıs run by relıgıous heads who have ınterpreted the Quaran to become a tool of repressıon for Iran, thıs of course meant an aclcohol free New Year wıth the few other travellers that thought ıt worth the endless paper work to enter the Country. The nıght was rıfe wıth pıstachıos, pomegranet, Zam Zam Cola (sınce the Amerıcan orıgınal ıs banned)and tradıtıonal Persıan musıc, we were then forced to bed at the fear of our gatherıng turnıng ınto a haram (relıgıously forbıdden) party. Sınce experıencıng travel, I have learnt to enter Countrıes wıthout expectations, thıs had me enter Iran wıth a non surprısıng peculıar welcome.
I could not have been closer to touchıng the romance of the Mıddle East, I was hıtchıng a rıde wıth an Iranıan trucker plowıng through the desert hıghway lıke a pedantıc fınger wıpıng the dust off a table. I was puzzeled to see lashıngs of snow ın an ınfınate abundance coverıng what I had been told were sand dunes. Nothıng was admıttıng to me I was ın the desert except ıts vastness. It hadn't been lıke thıs ın over a centary, the weather Gods were provıng theır fagılıty and what a splendıd sıght ıts fıckelness was. I was headıng to Garmeh, an Oasıs town offerıng ıts hospıtalıty to anyone wıllıng to forfıt theır patıence to the journey, as the day surrended ıtself to the nıght, the desert took on another appearance. Darkness completly overwhealmed anythıng ın ıts path, ıt was lıke drıvıng through a black-hole of emptıness, the headlıghts acted lıke shootıng a gun ın space, ıt would dısappear ınto nothıng before hıttıng anythıng. Contradıctıng physıcs, we seemed to reach an end ın a small town called Khur, famous for nothıng and sıtuated no-where but the last stop before arrıvıng to the Oasıs. The tıme seemed to dısappear wıthın the darkness but fınally I was met wıth a dım glow lıghtıng a small mudbrıck Vıllage, ıt was Garmeh. The darkness was stıll demandıng all the attentıon, I ıgnored ıts just selfıshness and accepted the welcome of the open door ınto a beautıful humble house made entırely of what the desert gıfted and fılled wıth blue rythemıcally shapped pottery. I was seated on Ottoman style seatıng and feasted wıth dates, yoghurt, camel and generous lashıngs of musıc prepared before me. The walls were suddenly bellowıng wıth the beats of a sılencıng drum through one of the purposefully closed doors, my prevıous musıc provıder smıled at me and saıd ıs a warm voıce, ' he ıs ready'.
All over Iran, when I made a querey about Garmeh, a proclamcatıon of Marzıah's frıendshıp would follow enthusıatıcally as ıf ıt was a prıvıllage to know a man who was even merly frıends to the head of the Garmeh household.
It was wıth great antıcıpatıon that I opened the door enclosıng the beautıful sounds of the enthused drum. A large full bearded man ın well worn robes and thıck lıberal haır was stratıgıcally thumpıng a camel skın drum, standıng over a large carpet that was comfortıng hıs large extended famıly. Converse was denıed as they felt the drums beats converge through theır bones from Marzıahis playıng. What a strange occurance, the only words that he expelled to me were 'welcome boy, drınk some Caı' ın very poor Englısh, no trıvıal questıons one hears and asks to avoıd the enımey sılence we have all learnt to kıll or run from, hıs sımplıcıty and chosen ıgnorance of socıetal ettıqette and complexıty had me overwhealmed wıth a great deal of respect for the man, not that my respect for hım held any ımportance, ıt had me sılenced by hıs presence. Hıs frıend told me that the locals thınk he ıs spırıtually closer wıth God whıch makes hıs presence warmıng to the soul, I personally belıeve they mıstake spırıtual connectıons wıth hıs strong character, ın any case he was teachıng me somethıng about the world wıthout even speakıng.
The desert ıs a remarkable beıng, ıts unınhabıtable breast gıves ıt the ımmunıty from economıc growth allowıng the few strong wılled to flourısh. It's sılence loudly speaks to anyone wıllıng to lısten, ıt shows you the sıgnıfıcance of everythıng because only the sıgnıfıcant can survıve, I once read "Lıfe attracts Lıfe" I now know that mans meanıng. I was blazıng accross the deserts back ın a 4x4 gıftıng the the lands wıth Marzıah's hıghly unexpected alternatıve tunes pulsatıng from hıs rather queer mordern speakers, for the whole journey he saıd nothıng to me and I to hım, ıt's as ıf the desert had transfused ınto hım, sharıng wıth hım her experınce and wısdom, I have never met someone wıth such a beautıful character, he has affected my thoughts well after leavıng Garmeh, thıs was her gıft to me.
68 hours ıs a feet ın ıtself but over 100 had me start Iran ın a pretty twısted state, choosıng to comply wıth my budget, after enjoyıng Turkey's mezze lıke experıences I vouched for the ıncredulous 4000KM traın journey to Tehran from Istanbul, the trıp how-ever was forcefully delayed by the carrıage leadıng mıne spontaınıosly expoldıng, lıghtıng the skıes of Eastern Turkey wıth flames. The next few hours I watched the mıllıtary that had come to guard our 'Trans Asıan Express' from the reputed robbers that plagued these parts drınk Cai and contradıct the sılent mountaıns wıth theır obtrusıve laughter. As I watched the carrıage slowly raıl past ın ıts new black cındered frame, I somehow knew that the romance ın raıl was goıng to be lackıng on thıs traın.
It was the 30th of December and I was goıng to watch 2007 dısappear ın the Center of Tehran, thıs ıs the economıc Capıtal of one of the most oıl rıch Countrıes on Earth, there was then of course no surpıse when blowıng my nose I would dıscrase the supple whıte tıssue wıth black refuse. Just walkıng ıts endless streets and takıng ın the cıtıes ıntensıty made me stressed. The place ıs sımply too much ınformatıon for the braın whıch ın turn screws wıth your senses and emotıons. The cıty has become so ınhabıted ıt's unınhabıtable by law of physıcal nature. The Country ıs run by relıgıous heads who have ınterpreted the Quaran to become a tool of repressıon for Iran, thıs of course meant an aclcohol free New Year wıth the few other travellers that thought ıt worth the endless paper work to enter the Country. The nıght was rıfe wıth pıstachıos, pomegranet, Zam Zam Cola (sınce the Amerıcan orıgınal ıs banned)and tradıtıonal Persıan musıc, we were then forced to bed at the fear of our gatherıng turnıng ınto a haram (relıgıously forbıdden) party. Sınce experıencıng travel, I have learnt to enter Countrıes wıthout expectations, thıs had me enter Iran wıth a non surprısıng peculıar welcome.
I could not have been closer to touchıng the romance of the Mıddle East, I was hıtchıng a rıde wıth an Iranıan trucker plowıng through the desert hıghway lıke a pedantıc fınger wıpıng the dust off a table. I was puzzeled to see lashıngs of snow ın an ınfınate abundance coverıng what I had been told were sand dunes. Nothıng was admıttıng to me I was ın the desert except ıts vastness. It hadn't been lıke thıs ın over a centary, the weather Gods were provıng theır fagılıty and what a splendıd sıght ıts fıckelness was. I was headıng to Garmeh, an Oasıs town offerıng ıts hospıtalıty to anyone wıllıng to forfıt theır patıence to the journey, as the day surrended ıtself to the nıght, the desert took on another appearance. Darkness completly overwhealmed anythıng ın ıts path, ıt was lıke drıvıng through a black-hole of emptıness, the headlıghts acted lıke shootıng a gun ın space, ıt would dısappear ınto nothıng before hıttıng anythıng. Contradıctıng physıcs, we seemed to reach an end ın a small town called Khur, famous for nothıng and sıtuated no-where but the last stop before arrıvıng to the Oasıs. The tıme seemed to dısappear wıthın the darkness but fınally I was met wıth a dım glow lıghtıng a small mudbrıck Vıllage, ıt was Garmeh. The darkness was stıll demandıng all the attentıon, I ıgnored ıts just selfıshness and accepted the welcome of the open door ınto a beautıful humble house made entırely of what the desert gıfted and fılled wıth blue rythemıcally shapped pottery. I was seated on Ottoman style seatıng and feasted wıth dates, yoghurt, camel and generous lashıngs of musıc prepared before me. The walls were suddenly bellowıng wıth the beats of a sılencıng drum through one of the purposefully closed doors, my prevıous musıc provıder smıled at me and saıd ıs a warm voıce, ' he ıs ready'.
All over Iran, when I made a querey about Garmeh, a proclamcatıon of Marzıah's frıendshıp would follow enthusıatıcally as ıf ıt was a prıvıllage to know a man who was even merly frıends to the head of the Garmeh household.
It was wıth great antıcıpatıon that I opened the door enclosıng the beautıful sounds of the enthused drum. A large full bearded man ın well worn robes and thıck lıberal haır was stratıgıcally thumpıng a camel skın drum, standıng over a large carpet that was comfortıng hıs large extended famıly. Converse was denıed as they felt the drums beats converge through theır bones from Marzıahis playıng. What a strange occurance, the only words that he expelled to me were 'welcome boy, drınk some Caı' ın very poor Englısh, no trıvıal questıons one hears and asks to avoıd the enımey sılence we have all learnt to kıll or run from, hıs sımplıcıty and chosen ıgnorance of socıetal ettıqette and complexıty had me overwhealmed wıth a great deal of respect for the man, not that my respect for hım held any ımportance, ıt had me sılenced by hıs presence. Hıs frıend told me that the locals thınk he ıs spırıtually closer wıth God whıch makes hıs presence warmıng to the soul, I personally belıeve they mıstake spırıtual connectıons wıth hıs strong character, ın any case he was teachıng me somethıng about the world wıthout even speakıng.
The desert ıs a remarkable beıng, ıts unınhabıtable breast gıves ıt the ımmunıty from economıc growth allowıng the few strong wılled to flourısh. It's sılence loudly speaks to anyone wıllıng to lısten, ıt shows you the sıgnıfıcance of everythıng because only the sıgnıfıcant can survıve, I once read "Lıfe attracts Lıfe" I now know that mans meanıng. I was blazıng accross the deserts back ın a 4x4 gıftıng the the lands wıth Marzıah's hıghly unexpected alternatıve tunes pulsatıng from hıs rather queer mordern speakers, for the whole journey he saıd nothıng to me and I to hım, ıt's as ıf the desert had transfused ınto hım, sharıng wıth hım her experınce and wısdom, I have never met someone wıth such a beautıful character, he has affected my thoughts well after leavıng Garmeh, thıs was her gıft to me.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Eastern Europe II
Split is famous for bearing the spare residence of Diocessian, the late Roman Emperor which, regarding its history was of obvious interest. It has however been sickened with warts in the form of Lacoste and Ralph Lauren stores for all those tourists wanting to have follow up stories when their neighbors commented on their lovely purchases in Croatia. This was our first stop down the Dalmatian Coast and I was eager to depart its lack luster harbor to one of the many Ancient islands.
Hvar Islands beauty was only matched by the golden haired woman taking us to her Guest house, marble stairways, solid stone houses that by no deliberate logic made very quaint narrow streets that sheltered its inhabitants from the weathers aggression, electric blue waters that reflected off the white marble harbor and charismatic locals debating the meaning of life. Its protector had a close eye on its beloved jewel, an Ancient Venetian Castle that looked down from its hilltop bestowing on the island blatant pride and strength. Our own fault had us stuck here by miscommunication, we were sorely distraught by the ordeal..
Korcular had an airy sole, an old Venetian town that is said to be the birthplace of Marco Polo. Its streets were empty which can be faulted on it been low season, but there was a definite emptiness about the place, it certainly hadn't been neglected, the place was immaculately kept in typical Venetian class which is the last to be said about our accommodation and its proprioter, we both slept with one eye open under his roof. We made a day trip to the local wine region of Korcular, Lambada, it been nestled between the mountains and the ocean had us enjoy a pleasant day. We left island life back to the mainland to the most famous of all Croation towns.
Dubrovnik surprisingly has only one hostel and true to our luck with accommodation, it was full. We found this house marked 'sobe' that was help by an old woman who spoke no English, she forced us to sit down and offered us delicious Turkish coffee and delightfully boring biscuits, you know the ones the elderly always seem to have on reserve since the slightly more offensive chocolate ones don't mix well with their prescribed cholesterol intake. Staying with here made our end in Croatia feel like home but even before we had a chance to get homesick, we were on a bus to Montenegro.
I must declare my ignorance, before this trip I thought Montenegro was a Provence in France but luckily for our bank accounts it was another treasure in the jewelery box that is Eastern Europe. We were unexpectedly greeted by a local fat woman eager for us to stay in her home, her family welcomed us with homemade brandy that destroyed any living thing within your gut and a very long proclamation on the beauty of their Country and their distaste for Albanians. The town of Kotor is surrounded by mountains with a large fortress protecting it from its past enemies, we hiked the nearest mountain to view all of Kotors beauty from above earning ourselves the excuse for a beer. The best we could find was a local Irish pub manned by a Muslim youth. The Jewish American that was with us was most upset when the barman welcomed us with a salute that he misread as a 'Hail Hitler', luckily we ignored Yankee because he turned out to be a great friend for us in Montenegro, he took us out a few nights but his mind was clearly occupied with love lost as his girlfriends parents wouldn't allow them to marry since he was Muslim and she Orthodox Christian, the cigarette burns up his arm was indication of his pain. The day trip to Budvar was a flop as during winter the people seem to abandon all respect for the town and as consequence, it was comparable to a dump.
I never thought I would enter Albania twice in my life but I have the stamps to prove it. Albania could quite possibly be the most undeveloped Country in Europe, you get the sense that the government pays little attention to the needs of its Country and in turn, its people are equally disinterested. We arrived in Tirana, one of the most polluted Cities in Europe, to find the place in complete darkness. This was not due to the lack of street lighting (which was non-existent) but a routine power cut. Everyday at around 7pm, the city is filled with the music from small generators in a pathetic attempt to give light to its shops. Once day broke, you can see small plots of buildings been brightly painted in flashy fluor-o colours in a sad attempt to hide its dull communist past, unknowing to us, when we left we never would have dreamnt a return.
My favorite Country in the East of Europe yet, Macedonia, home to Alexander the Great and Mother Teresa. Its Capital Skopye was a pleasant contrast to Tirana, developed and well lived in by its attractive youth and friendly locals. It was getting late and we were eager to fill our bellies with the local cuisine but were stopped in our tracks by a man struggling to pull out a an oversized television out of his rusty Russian car. We helped the poor fellow up his apartment stairs and almost as if they were waiting our arrival we were met by his parents, speaking no English seemed a non-existent issue as all they wanted to do was offer us a warm seat and their fine baking. Their son been the translator, we talked the evening away about Macedonia current issues and their rival Greek counterparts, we left with our veins filled with sugar and pockets piled with wafer cake, who knew we were about to be treated with the same hospitality by the Countries adolescent. We were invited to go clubbing by a random local girl from our Hostel, 20km out of town in the middle of now-where surrounded by darkness and wind, it was one of the best night clubs I had been to in a long time, it was a fantastic night until our hostess ditched us at four in the morning having us find our own way back which seemed impossible until by pure chance we hitched a ride with a couple of teenagers, no harm done. Lake Ohrid, the most sacred place in Macedonia and supposedly the 2nd clearest lake in the word was our next stop in Macedonia. We enjoyed the place greatly enough that we spent our longest time yet here. Once again our hosts were true to the pattern of Eastern European hospitality. The lake held exceptional beauty which we experienced one to one by traveling with a crazy tour guide that held no restraints in proclaiming his hate towards Greece and revealing to us their hidden identites as "blood thirsty vampires", his knowledge on the downfall of Greece seemed to far outweigh his knowledge on Macedonia, in fact, the man was a dead loss but we did find many of the lakes secrets.
Many days later, we read our future fate on returning to Albania as it was the best way to enter Greece. Korca was another one of Albania's jewels, we weren't impressed when we found our stay here had to be extended because of the 'Micky Mouse' bus schedule, it seems Albanians business only works when Albanians get up on the right side of the bed, very tedious. Our eagerness to leave had us make the brash decision to catch a taxi down the Country to Gjirokastra, a place highly recommended by our guide book that we trusted so, we named it 'the Bible', yet another disappointment by our friend Albania. The land in between was very beautiful and very interesting to see its past appear from the Earth in concrete lumps designed to protect its inhabitants from a war that never came, the Country was littered with incongruous concrete bunkers and now ironically the creators of these bunkers made them to be indestructible without a thought they may not always want 700,000 of the things through Albania, so now they are left with this deformity. Saranda was our destination and we were promised a beach side paradise, our new found skepticism of the Country has us expect otherwise, so I guess we had nothing to be disappointed about when we arrived. Oh Albania, I write about you like you owe something to me, like you were obliged to entertain me in some needing childish manner, I'm sorry.
Corfu, locals have arrogantly awarded this Greek island the most beautiful of all the islands which you can imagine is quite a statement. I had not yet seen any of Greeks limitless island babies but after landing on Corfu, it is hard to argue. Unfortunately, the island, despite all is beautiful Ancient history, is mainly famed by a particular monument . The Pink Palace, a huge party island playground that welcomes all round drunkenness and slutty meet ups, I would have to be a pompass ass to deny our enjoyment here but it was definitely not the reason I tracked on the other side of the Earth and besides, I was frolicking on the same land as Athens, I could not spend too much time fighting my urges to see such a place.
I have made it to Athens, I have walked as did the greats of its greatest time. Socrates, Plato, Aristophanes, Perikles. How could one fathom from then to now a young New Zealand boy would arrive on its Ancient land. The City now has been devastated by the inevitable onslaught of economic growth but despite its ugliness, how could one not be impressed by its glorious past? The Greeks still live and thrive on the pride that was but now it's all trivial nonsense, this pride the locals relish is the same pride that had them crumble to its envious neighbors 2200 years ago. Then again, why is there still a spec of surprise in my thought? History always repeats itself.
'A' was soon to leave and we were eager to see as much as possible between Athens and then, we decided on the Peloponnese as it was home to Olympia, a personal place 'A' wished to see. Nafplio was first and a real beauty in Mainland Greece, an old Venetian base guaranteed us a beautiful location, we had a lot of fun here and even swam its frigid waters just because we could.
Greece has been home to many a great Civilisations, the Mycenae's been one of the oldest descending from the Minoans from Crete. To read all the great stories of the Ancient past and actually walk its ruins is something incredibly special, especially how this feeling is impossible to obtain in New Zealand. Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, Homer, all these names are mentioned in Mycenae. These were some of the best ruins I had walked and they will always be in my memory. Very special! 'A' was finally going to meet his jewel, Olympia, an incredibly long detour which ended up been well worth the distance. This was the starting of the Olympic games and a very important timer in Ancient Greece's progress. Wars between the states were momentarily stopped for the competition of the games, the prize of glory afforded by only the greatest Men, the ruins were so well placed you could actually imagine been there within its wall and beneath its statues. One of the 7 wonders of the Ancient world was once held here, a great statue of Zeus that disappeared many years ago. Olympia was clearly a place of glory that even today can be felt. Delphi was the most sacred place in Greece's history, traveling there was almost a pilgrimage. Even where the place is situated feels pious, so many stories of its past and so much importance given to the place gave it a definite aura, we walked its paths and trails all day until we had to depart back to Athens to await for 'A's flight, our journey together was about to end. We prolonged our last stay in Athens to the last second, it was if we were squeezing a dry lemon hoping for juice but it was time to travel solo again, the morning came when we walked to the train station and said our good-byes. 'A' walked down and I walked up, both to practice our chosen lives.
I stayed in Athens quite a bit longer after his departure, I just loved the feeling of been in such a place and danced its rhythm as much as I could. I knew once I would leave Athens I would no longer be traversing the West I knew so well but that of the Middle East, maybe I felt as if I was preparing for it or maybe I was just scared, never the less, my train had arrived.
Hvar Islands beauty was only matched by the golden haired woman taking us to her Guest house, marble stairways, solid stone houses that by no deliberate logic made very quaint narrow streets that sheltered its inhabitants from the weathers aggression, electric blue waters that reflected off the white marble harbor and charismatic locals debating the meaning of life. Its protector had a close eye on its beloved jewel, an Ancient Venetian Castle that looked down from its hilltop bestowing on the island blatant pride and strength. Our own fault had us stuck here by miscommunication, we were sorely distraught by the ordeal..
Korcular had an airy sole, an old Venetian town that is said to be the birthplace of Marco Polo. Its streets were empty which can be faulted on it been low season, but there was a definite emptiness about the place, it certainly hadn't been neglected, the place was immaculately kept in typical Venetian class which is the last to be said about our accommodation and its proprioter, we both slept with one eye open under his roof. We made a day trip to the local wine region of Korcular, Lambada, it been nestled between the mountains and the ocean had us enjoy a pleasant day. We left island life back to the mainland to the most famous of all Croation towns.
Dubrovnik surprisingly has only one hostel and true to our luck with accommodation, it was full. We found this house marked 'sobe' that was help by an old woman who spoke no English, she forced us to sit down and offered us delicious Turkish coffee and delightfully boring biscuits, you know the ones the elderly always seem to have on reserve since the slightly more offensive chocolate ones don't mix well with their prescribed cholesterol intake. Staying with here made our end in Croatia feel like home but even before we had a chance to get homesick, we were on a bus to Montenegro.
I must declare my ignorance, before this trip I thought Montenegro was a Provence in France but luckily for our bank accounts it was another treasure in the jewelery box that is Eastern Europe. We were unexpectedly greeted by a local fat woman eager for us to stay in her home, her family welcomed us with homemade brandy that destroyed any living thing within your gut and a very long proclamation on the beauty of their Country and their distaste for Albanians. The town of Kotor is surrounded by mountains with a large fortress protecting it from its past enemies, we hiked the nearest mountain to view all of Kotors beauty from above earning ourselves the excuse for a beer. The best we could find was a local Irish pub manned by a Muslim youth. The Jewish American that was with us was most upset when the barman welcomed us with a salute that he misread as a 'Hail Hitler', luckily we ignored Yankee because he turned out to be a great friend for us in Montenegro, he took us out a few nights but his mind was clearly occupied with love lost as his girlfriends parents wouldn't allow them to marry since he was Muslim and she Orthodox Christian, the cigarette burns up his arm was indication of his pain. The day trip to Budvar was a flop as during winter the people seem to abandon all respect for the town and as consequence, it was comparable to a dump.
I never thought I would enter Albania twice in my life but I have the stamps to prove it. Albania could quite possibly be the most undeveloped Country in Europe, you get the sense that the government pays little attention to the needs of its Country and in turn, its people are equally disinterested. We arrived in Tirana, one of the most polluted Cities in Europe, to find the place in complete darkness. This was not due to the lack of street lighting (which was non-existent) but a routine power cut. Everyday at around 7pm, the city is filled with the music from small generators in a pathetic attempt to give light to its shops. Once day broke, you can see small plots of buildings been brightly painted in flashy fluor-o colours in a sad attempt to hide its dull communist past, unknowing to us, when we left we never would have dreamnt a return.
My favorite Country in the East of Europe yet, Macedonia, home to Alexander the Great and Mother Teresa. Its Capital Skopye was a pleasant contrast to Tirana, developed and well lived in by its attractive youth and friendly locals. It was getting late and we were eager to fill our bellies with the local cuisine but were stopped in our tracks by a man struggling to pull out a an oversized television out of his rusty Russian car. We helped the poor fellow up his apartment stairs and almost as if they were waiting our arrival we were met by his parents, speaking no English seemed a non-existent issue as all they wanted to do was offer us a warm seat and their fine baking. Their son been the translator, we talked the evening away about Macedonia current issues and their rival Greek counterparts, we left with our veins filled with sugar and pockets piled with wafer cake, who knew we were about to be treated with the same hospitality by the Countries adolescent. We were invited to go clubbing by a random local girl from our Hostel, 20km out of town in the middle of now-where surrounded by darkness and wind, it was one of the best night clubs I had been to in a long time, it was a fantastic night until our hostess ditched us at four in the morning having us find our own way back which seemed impossible until by pure chance we hitched a ride with a couple of teenagers, no harm done. Lake Ohrid, the most sacred place in Macedonia and supposedly the 2nd clearest lake in the word was our next stop in Macedonia. We enjoyed the place greatly enough that we spent our longest time yet here. Once again our hosts were true to the pattern of Eastern European hospitality. The lake held exceptional beauty which we experienced one to one by traveling with a crazy tour guide that held no restraints in proclaiming his hate towards Greece and revealing to us their hidden identites as "blood thirsty vampires", his knowledge on the downfall of Greece seemed to far outweigh his knowledge on Macedonia, in fact, the man was a dead loss but we did find many of the lakes secrets.
Many days later, we read our future fate on returning to Albania as it was the best way to enter Greece. Korca was another one of Albania's jewels, we weren't impressed when we found our stay here had to be extended because of the 'Micky Mouse' bus schedule, it seems Albanians business only works when Albanians get up on the right side of the bed, very tedious. Our eagerness to leave had us make the brash decision to catch a taxi down the Country to Gjirokastra, a place highly recommended by our guide book that we trusted so, we named it 'the Bible', yet another disappointment by our friend Albania. The land in between was very beautiful and very interesting to see its past appear from the Earth in concrete lumps designed to protect its inhabitants from a war that never came, the Country was littered with incongruous concrete bunkers and now ironically the creators of these bunkers made them to be indestructible without a thought they may not always want 700,000 of the things through Albania, so now they are left with this deformity. Saranda was our destination and we were promised a beach side paradise, our new found skepticism of the Country has us expect otherwise, so I guess we had nothing to be disappointed about when we arrived. Oh Albania, I write about you like you owe something to me, like you were obliged to entertain me in some needing childish manner, I'm sorry.
Corfu, locals have arrogantly awarded this Greek island the most beautiful of all the islands which you can imagine is quite a statement. I had not yet seen any of Greeks limitless island babies but after landing on Corfu, it is hard to argue. Unfortunately, the island, despite all is beautiful Ancient history, is mainly famed by a particular monument . The Pink Palace, a huge party island playground that welcomes all round drunkenness and slutty meet ups, I would have to be a pompass ass to deny our enjoyment here but it was definitely not the reason I tracked on the other side of the Earth and besides, I was frolicking on the same land as Athens, I could not spend too much time fighting my urges to see such a place.
I have made it to Athens, I have walked as did the greats of its greatest time. Socrates, Plato, Aristophanes, Perikles. How could one fathom from then to now a young New Zealand boy would arrive on its Ancient land. The City now has been devastated by the inevitable onslaught of economic growth but despite its ugliness, how could one not be impressed by its glorious past? The Greeks still live and thrive on the pride that was but now it's all trivial nonsense, this pride the locals relish is the same pride that had them crumble to its envious neighbors 2200 years ago. Then again, why is there still a spec of surprise in my thought? History always repeats itself.
'A' was soon to leave and we were eager to see as much as possible between Athens and then, we decided on the Peloponnese as it was home to Olympia, a personal place 'A' wished to see. Nafplio was first and a real beauty in Mainland Greece, an old Venetian base guaranteed us a beautiful location, we had a lot of fun here and even swam its frigid waters just because we could.
Greece has been home to many a great Civilisations, the Mycenae's been one of the oldest descending from the Minoans from Crete. To read all the great stories of the Ancient past and actually walk its ruins is something incredibly special, especially how this feeling is impossible to obtain in New Zealand. Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, Homer, all these names are mentioned in Mycenae. These were some of the best ruins I had walked and they will always be in my memory. Very special! 'A' was finally going to meet his jewel, Olympia, an incredibly long detour which ended up been well worth the distance. This was the starting of the Olympic games and a very important timer in Ancient Greece's progress. Wars between the states were momentarily stopped for the competition of the games, the prize of glory afforded by only the greatest Men, the ruins were so well placed you could actually imagine been there within its wall and beneath its statues. One of the 7 wonders of the Ancient world was once held here, a great statue of Zeus that disappeared many years ago. Olympia was clearly a place of glory that even today can be felt. Delphi was the most sacred place in Greece's history, traveling there was almost a pilgrimage. Even where the place is situated feels pious, so many stories of its past and so much importance given to the place gave it a definite aura, we walked its paths and trails all day until we had to depart back to Athens to await for 'A's flight, our journey together was about to end. We prolonged our last stay in Athens to the last second, it was if we were squeezing a dry lemon hoping for juice but it was time to travel solo again, the morning came when we walked to the train station and said our good-byes. 'A' walked down and I walked up, both to practice our chosen lives.
I stayed in Athens quite a bit longer after his departure, I just loved the feeling of been in such a place and danced its rhythm as much as I could. I knew once I would leave Athens I would no longer be traversing the West I knew so well but that of the Middle East, maybe I felt as if I was preparing for it or maybe I was just scared, never the less, my train had arrived.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Inner Nature (random thought)
Every experience you partake in will alter, diminish or better your character. My Philosophy which runs parallel to that of the French Philosopher, Descartes, is what you see, smell, hear, touch and taste will evolve or devolve your emotions and mindset towards your life which in turn, will create the person you are. The idea that you are born an animate object, nothing more and nothing less, a blank page waiting to be written if you like, no preprogrammed traits or set tastes, everything up to the food you detest to how well you do at school is all up to what you experience up to the point of partaking in a new experience. You look at children and they will symmetrically resemble their parents not only in the physical sense but the intellectual and personal. This is of no coincidence, people from their own experience in life tend to have quite righteous views on how the life of man should be written, if looked from an outside view it may seem selfish and irresponsible on the parents part but if you know only what you know from your own experiences, then who should they resemble? This reflective upbringing is evident in large social structures and society depends on these 'unwritten pages', putting it crudely, society is funded by the working and middle class, the rich are there to stain the minds of man slightly green, that of envy which cruelly drives the under man to increase productivity and output at the expense of our inner nature. How does it make sense that one man could be worth so much where another hasn't sufficient to eat and for this society to be so lost in itself, it praises and worships such an act of greed?
I have mentioned inner nature in a sense that could seem contradicting to the previous, but this it's quite the opposite. Nature and her process are a beautiful pattern of perfection, everything created on her bosom has a reason for been so. The flowers have aromas not for our selfish pleasure but to attract the bee's for cross pollination, the bee's are their size because of the populace they live within is more efficient to collect the nectar of the flower, the flower has significant colours to once again attract the bee's and so on and so on, this comparison is no different to man, there is nothing on or in our bodies without reason, hair, nails, lungs are all their shape, size and colour for perfect efficiency to run in unison with the rest of our body. If nature has created our bodies perfectly then you must assume it has created our mind with equal precision, so why then does the human whole create such imperfection? Where did it enter our mindset to create devastation to our Mother Nature for what seems like the love of things she never created?
This idea of inner nature is to work in accordance with the pattern of nature, to think we are separate from this and obnoxiously superior is and will be our demise. If something is perfect, what arrogance would one must process to think they can improve upon it. If you really read and see religion under the preconceived face value, you will find this idea of connecting with the inner nature quite visible, the only limit to this are the words that have been used to describe such an indescribable thought. A few words that do come to mind is Nirvana, the philosophy of Buddhism, Tao, in the Chinese philosophy of Daoism, Heaven, that of Christianity, it doesn't matter, the words are irrelevant. The Ancient Daoist philosopher Lao Tzu wrote "The Tao that can be described is not the true Tao". They all use the term enlightenment, to be enlightened is to come back to how we were when we first entered the world straight from our Mothers womb, when our eyes had yet to be opened and our ears knew no words, this is when we were all enlightened. All these religions have differing face value because they were all recorded on different sides of the earth at different times by different people but despite this it all comes back to the same ideals, connecting with your inner nature, it is of no coincidence that at 600 years apart on the complete opposite sides of the Earth the poor hermit, Chaung Tzu was writing the same principle as Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome in his private meditations.
Our minds have been slightly tainted by the workings of society with our pathetic desires for titles, money, power and all such similar trivial things, pride plays such a large part of your lives. Our petty need for people to have pride in what we do from our parents to people we dislike is what drives us further and further away from nature, we do actually have a word for what causes unhappiness and such discontent in our lives, it's ego. We are so lost that we are worshiping people because of what they have. What good has pride ever done? Pride creates envy, envy creates greed, greed creates hate and hate creates self destruction, most of us were probably wisest at birth when our eyes were still sealed and hadn't yet learnt the tongue of Man. Lets take the example of an infant in the womb, the infants brain would be developing physically but has nothing to stimulate it mentally, when it comes out it has an entire world to comprehend and in turn this will be the start of development towards its personality and character. So what if we put this child straight from the womb into a large white walled room containing nothing but its colourless walls? If my theory is true, this child will physically grow but will not differ in any other aspect then if it was still in the womb. The mind in such an environment has nothing to familiarise itself with so the child will not change. Now what if we add a dog to the room? This is when inner nature or instinct comes in, we are not pre-programmed to think or be like anything but our inner nature allows us to familiarise ourselves with our surrounding and thus grow upon it. This dog that has now entered the child's life will start to stimulate the child's eager brain and will symmetrically resemble its personality and actions just the same as if it were human, if we added a second dog, it would also imitate its personality combined with the first dogs personality and start to form it's own unique one from what it's learnt from the two. This is how no human is completely identical to each other, now imagine if the child were to meet hundreds and hundreds of new dogs each day in completely new environments at different times, you would get an ever changing unique personality, this is why I believe no matter who you meet or what you do you can gain or lose something from it, that is what character is, how you choose to act upon an experience, whether or not you gain something from it is in your discretion.
If this is true and our inner nature has us resemble and copy our environment from our experiences, how do we know that this sub-conscious symmetry can differentiate what is real or what is right and wrong or natural and industrial? When we watch television and see people hurting and taunting or any such behaviour, can we be safe to assume that our inner nature will not recall this as an experience and thus form it in our character. There is no question that we evolve to our environment physically, Asians all have black hair for a reason as Nigerians have black skin, it's true with our personality too. A teacher once told me "There is a truth behind most stereotypes", it's obvious when you enter a new Country inner traits of people change in accordance with their surroundings, British, reserved and proper when the Italians are more easily excitable and exuberant, its as if they match there physical landscape and weather. How could these people not mimic what they see if it's all they know? Take an Orange, this is the sun in the form of a fruit or a potato, the Earth in a vegetable, when you taste these foods you are tasting the worlds inner nature.
This whole theory answers no questions but raises an even more internal complicated one. If we only know what we experience, then what is right and what is wrong??
I have mentioned inner nature in a sense that could seem contradicting to the previous, but this it's quite the opposite. Nature and her process are a beautiful pattern of perfection, everything created on her bosom has a reason for been so. The flowers have aromas not for our selfish pleasure but to attract the bee's for cross pollination, the bee's are their size because of the populace they live within is more efficient to collect the nectar of the flower, the flower has significant colours to once again attract the bee's and so on and so on, this comparison is no different to man, there is nothing on or in our bodies without reason, hair, nails, lungs are all their shape, size and colour for perfect efficiency to run in unison with the rest of our body. If nature has created our bodies perfectly then you must assume it has created our mind with equal precision, so why then does the human whole create such imperfection? Where did it enter our mindset to create devastation to our Mother Nature for what seems like the love of things she never created?
This idea of inner nature is to work in accordance with the pattern of nature, to think we are separate from this and obnoxiously superior is and will be our demise. If something is perfect, what arrogance would one must process to think they can improve upon it. If you really read and see religion under the preconceived face value, you will find this idea of connecting with the inner nature quite visible, the only limit to this are the words that have been used to describe such an indescribable thought. A few words that do come to mind is Nirvana, the philosophy of Buddhism, Tao, in the Chinese philosophy of Daoism, Heaven, that of Christianity, it doesn't matter, the words are irrelevant. The Ancient Daoist philosopher Lao Tzu wrote "The Tao that can be described is not the true Tao". They all use the term enlightenment, to be enlightened is to come back to how we were when we first entered the world straight from our Mothers womb, when our eyes had yet to be opened and our ears knew no words, this is when we were all enlightened. All these religions have differing face value because they were all recorded on different sides of the earth at different times by different people but despite this it all comes back to the same ideals, connecting with your inner nature, it is of no coincidence that at 600 years apart on the complete opposite sides of the Earth the poor hermit, Chaung Tzu was writing the same principle as Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome in his private meditations.
Our minds have been slightly tainted by the workings of society with our pathetic desires for titles, money, power and all such similar trivial things, pride plays such a large part of your lives. Our petty need for people to have pride in what we do from our parents to people we dislike is what drives us further and further away from nature, we do actually have a word for what causes unhappiness and such discontent in our lives, it's ego. We are so lost that we are worshiping people because of what they have. What good has pride ever done? Pride creates envy, envy creates greed, greed creates hate and hate creates self destruction, most of us were probably wisest at birth when our eyes were still sealed and hadn't yet learnt the tongue of Man. Lets take the example of an infant in the womb, the infants brain would be developing physically but has nothing to stimulate it mentally, when it comes out it has an entire world to comprehend and in turn this will be the start of development towards its personality and character. So what if we put this child straight from the womb into a large white walled room containing nothing but its colourless walls? If my theory is true, this child will physically grow but will not differ in any other aspect then if it was still in the womb. The mind in such an environment has nothing to familiarise itself with so the child will not change. Now what if we add a dog to the room? This is when inner nature or instinct comes in, we are not pre-programmed to think or be like anything but our inner nature allows us to familiarise ourselves with our surrounding and thus grow upon it. This dog that has now entered the child's life will start to stimulate the child's eager brain and will symmetrically resemble its personality and actions just the same as if it were human, if we added a second dog, it would also imitate its personality combined with the first dogs personality and start to form it's own unique one from what it's learnt from the two. This is how no human is completely identical to each other, now imagine if the child were to meet hundreds and hundreds of new dogs each day in completely new environments at different times, you would get an ever changing unique personality, this is why I believe no matter who you meet or what you do you can gain or lose something from it, that is what character is, how you choose to act upon an experience, whether or not you gain something from it is in your discretion.
If this is true and our inner nature has us resemble and copy our environment from our experiences, how do we know that this sub-conscious symmetry can differentiate what is real or what is right and wrong or natural and industrial? When we watch television and see people hurting and taunting or any such behaviour, can we be safe to assume that our inner nature will not recall this as an experience and thus form it in our character. There is no question that we evolve to our environment physically, Asians all have black hair for a reason as Nigerians have black skin, it's true with our personality too. A teacher once told me "There is a truth behind most stereotypes", it's obvious when you enter a new Country inner traits of people change in accordance with their surroundings, British, reserved and proper when the Italians are more easily excitable and exuberant, its as if they match there physical landscape and weather. How could these people not mimic what they see if it's all they know? Take an Orange, this is the sun in the form of a fruit or a potato, the Earth in a vegetable, when you taste these foods you are tasting the worlds inner nature.
This whole theory answers no questions but raises an even more internal complicated one. If we only know what we experience, then what is right and what is wrong??
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Europe Awaits
After a long dark English Summer it was time to tighten the old straps of my backpack and head back for the path, I said goodbye to all my my new found Family and was heading for the Eternal City. Oh what a sight Rome is for a young Man, its old glory is evident in its bellowing streets and proud architecture, my feet were sacrificed for the good of my curiosity, this must be how the Romans fit into their undersized clothing, you just keep walking to satisfy the demands of your eyes of its infinite desires. The noise of the City was chaotic music and its stench was expensive perfume, Romes like my first born Child, no matter how loud and obnoxious it is, it could do no wrong in my mind while taking an absurd amount of photos of it. A map wasn't needed since getting lost was the whole idea, I walked through this labyrinth for nearly a week and started to feel a part of its rhythm, I found this spot on a narrow wall right next to the Colosseum and some famous arch and just watched down on its stradas and ruins for over two hours just thinking and envisioning its past, what an intense place to sit and wonder, almost too much for such a young mind to play with. One thing you do start to realize is how much of a slob Rome makes you feel for been in a tee shirt, I almost felt I should buy a suit to walk down the street just to fit in, all the Romans look beautiful and elegant for every occasion, it gave me a petty ease to think how long they must be in front of the mirror for them to make me feel like such a tramp.
The much talked about town of Sorrento was next were I was promised a picturesque typical Italian town, instead I was faced with a once typical Italian town ridden with English pubs and plagued by American tour groups, how disappointing, you could see its old youthfulness appearing through the cracks but it was too late, it had already been slaughtered by the praised rapist they call Economic Growth, it was how ever very near the Ancient ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. I spent a day in each followed by a climb up Mount Vesuvius, I was to fly out of Napoli (Naples) so I spent a good three days here, I met some great people and drank wine that equaled the company, the day I had to leave was my birthday, the big two zero which was spent sitting in Prague airport ALL day for a friend from back home. 'A' had planned to travel through Eastern Europe with me for about 6 weeks which of course had to start with the predictable Czech City of Prague, we were not disappointed and it seemed to be a good start to our trip together. We went down to a small town in the south called Telc where I still proceed to worry that places are said to be colder then this, we arrived with no accommodation and quickly found out my source for supposedly the only Hostel in town is closed after summer, after a couple of minutes of worry we were met by fat lady who grabbed us by our pathetically thin jackets and started knocking on the doors of peoples houses until she found one who was willing to let us in, this pretty much sums up the hospitality of the Czechs. Cesky Krumlov was our last stop in the Republic and it more then lived up to our expectations, we stayed two nights in this paradise sampling beer and wandering its streets, we ended this night by getting drunk with a French School group.
16hours later the next day and after a very close encounter of been mugged we arrived in Hungary's capital, Budapest (pronounced buda-pesh-t) , It was wonderful to be back in a real City filled with life, it was first world wealth with third world character. It is one of those cities that is too close to pay for transport but a little too far to walk it, never the less we walked it and still have blisters to prove our efforts, the Market is one of the best Ive seen and the bars just as good, we found an old Turkish place very appropriate to its past that we drank sweet bitters from and shared a large Hookah (Flavored Bong/Pipe) this was followed by a dip in the ancient Turkish Baths that are so well known in Buda. We are now in Croatia, been the obvious choice for a couple of Kiwis been so close to the coast, we will see what comes our way...
The much talked about town of Sorrento was next were I was promised a picturesque typical Italian town, instead I was faced with a once typical Italian town ridden with English pubs and plagued by American tour groups, how disappointing, you could see its old youthfulness appearing through the cracks but it was too late, it had already been slaughtered by the praised rapist they call Economic Growth, it was how ever very near the Ancient ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. I spent a day in each followed by a climb up Mount Vesuvius, I was to fly out of Napoli (Naples) so I spent a good three days here, I met some great people and drank wine that equaled the company, the day I had to leave was my birthday, the big two zero which was spent sitting in Prague airport ALL day for a friend from back home. 'A' had planned to travel through Eastern Europe with me for about 6 weeks which of course had to start with the predictable Czech City of Prague, we were not disappointed and it seemed to be a good start to our trip together. We went down to a small town in the south called Telc where I still proceed to worry that places are said to be colder then this, we arrived with no accommodation and quickly found out my source for supposedly the only Hostel in town is closed after summer, after a couple of minutes of worry we were met by fat lady who grabbed us by our pathetically thin jackets and started knocking on the doors of peoples houses until she found one who was willing to let us in, this pretty much sums up the hospitality of the Czechs. Cesky Krumlov was our last stop in the Republic and it more then lived up to our expectations, we stayed two nights in this paradise sampling beer and wandering its streets, we ended this night by getting drunk with a French School group.
16hours later the next day and after a very close encounter of been mugged we arrived in Hungary's capital, Budapest (pronounced buda-pesh-t) , It was wonderful to be back in a real City filled with life, it was first world wealth with third world character. It is one of those cities that is too close to pay for transport but a little too far to walk it, never the less we walked it and still have blisters to prove our efforts, the Market is one of the best Ive seen and the bars just as good, we found an old Turkish place very appropriate to its past that we drank sweet bitters from and shared a large Hookah (Flavored Bong/Pipe) this was followed by a dip in the ancient Turkish Baths that are so well known in Buda. We are now in Croatia, been the obvious choice for a couple of Kiwis been so close to the coast, we will see what comes our way...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
The Chinese Mistress.
I had placed China on a very high pedestal before my blistered feet had even smelt the Chinese soil, I had given the Country large amounts of my time through endless reading of Proverbs, Poetry and History. I knew all the Emperors and Dynasties by heart and had ignorantly put their incredulous legacy's to the source of what Modern Chinese thought is today, I was obviously quickly shaken into reality when entering this seemingly frustrating Land in the form of Communist bureaucracy and proud Han's. I had in fact placed China so far up on it's imaginary Ming Style Pedestal, that I had self induced an inferiority complex toward the Country, I soon realised I had to wake up from this pathetic idea realising she smelt fear.
You quickly notice China possesses exceptional beauty in the form of imposing Mountains and Ancient Culture, it started for me in Yongshuo in Guanxi Provence, which for centuries has been revered by Poets and Scholars alike for its Natural beauty, getting lost on a crappy Chinese made bicycle through endless rice paddies and river banks whilst futilely communicating with the local farmers. Four hours out is Longshen, which holds the gigantic 800 years old Rice Terraces, it has been Christened 'Dragon Backbone Terraces' in typical over-the-top Chinese fashion. It is an inspirational trek over these Ancient man made Mountains all created to cultivate rice in low and high altitudes.
It was definitely an easy and dubiously effortless start to China, but it seemed she was just toying with me in an attempt to send me into a false calm, her first test was in the form of a very large Train Station. It is a total nightmare, a couple of thousand Han, all giving you the impression of absolute contempt in a room directed at a handful of small windows controlled by uninterested, overworked Chinese Woman. I found the trick is to keep in mind with China and its infinite obstacles is that you do it, because there is no other option. If you don't get the ticket, you don't move, if you don't find food, you don't eat, if you don't find a pillow, you don't sleep. This of course doesn't make it any easier, especially when you are following the tracks of many travellers who did find another option, leaving, but there was something about China that drew me towards her, she was like a notable spoilt brat, and by all reasonable logic, I should have dumped her long ago, but there is somethings you can't explain, and I was attracted to her mysterious beauty. It took 19 hours but I made it to Kunming, Yunnan Provence, you have never seen so many Banks. It seems China has very few Domestic business and they over compensate for this with the few they do have, Banks and 'China Mobile' litter this City and most other's for that matter in the form of windowless concrete monsters. I didn't stay long here but was surprised by its cleanliness and wealth, I spent my little time here strolling the City eating watermelon and corn on the cob from street vendors. This is also the City that the legend of Chinese spitters was proven to be not only true, but contagious. There is something quite free about making a very loud hoicking sound right in the back of your throat to gather as much flem as possible and spitting it in front of everyone in public and not getting any questioning looks about your place in society, I hope to bring this habitual practice back home with me to bring a bit of humility to New Zealanders. Kunmings main reason for been a destination with China's relative few Western travelers is to get to smaller parts of Yunnan, my first one been the Ancient walled town of Dali. Most famous for the 'Three Pagoda's" its a very pleasant little city which used to be home to the minority Bai people, I thought this place to rather over rated by travelers and after seeing the sights and picking up food poisoning from a Muslim restaurant I was on a local bus to another Ancient Town, Lijiang. The bus ride was very opening for me because China decided to give me yet another test to try my loyalty to her. In a very short amount of time to what seemed like such a trivial reason, I gained something I had not felt for a long time since leaving home, HATE.
I was suffering from slight motion sickness in this very small bus, I was in a pretty lousy mood for what ever reason then of course a China-man sits next to me as his last resort since even the preferred floor space was taken up, it seems Europeans repulse working class Chinese, he then reaches over me, closes the window and proceeds to light a cigarette directed straight in my face, at that exact point, I couldn't have felt a stronger pure hatred to towards this man and the entire race of China. Something in me just clicked, I started thinking of all the shit I had endured since I walked over that border, all the trivial, bureaucratic nonsense the Chinese do and all I wanted to do was get the Hell out. I finally arrived in Lijiang and since it was one of those days, every Taxi refused to take me to a Hostel, after 5KM of walking with 20kg on my back, I couldn't have cared any less if China imploded on it self there and then. China is a mysterious creature, because just like a flick of the fingers, she gave me an experience I would never forget, she gave me her personal jewelry box filled with jade mountains, sapphire rivers, a gold sun and the purest white silk covering the mountain tops of her highest peaks, it was China's deepest Gorge, the 'Tiger Leaping Gorge'.
I decided to trek her by my self to appreciate its true spender, It started off very averagely along a gravel road, I had walked for about an hour until I came to a fork in the road with a shop in the middle selling the usual over priced goods, the China man asked if I wanted to by some water, I refused, and as a result, he pointed me into the wrong direction. Two hours later, after seeing no sign of life I started to worry, I came to this open grass field held up by an Ancient Cliff and realised I could be in a bit of trouble, I sat down for a minute to contemplate the true situation, it was getting dark, no one was around, I had no idea where to go and I was a few hundred meters on a cliff face. Something at that point hit me that I had never before considered since my travels, I was completely alone, I couldn't just ring up my parents, I couldn't talk to a friend about it China seemed at the time pretty set on screwing with me, I was honestly quite scared, if you really think about it, there are very few times in ones life where you are completely alone in any given situation, but I was being tested by the Chinese mistress. I then saw a small angel in the form of a trekker right at the bottom of the Cliff signalling to me where the actual path is, next thing I know, I'm precariously running along some rocks in the cliff face that I would never have even considered looking at due to the stupid danger combined with my prudent nature to get to this path, I obviously made it without tumbling into the Yanzte but that point opened me to something very strange, this was the start of something quite extraordinary along the Tiger Leaping Gorge. I stayed the night in a Naxi guesthouse and started earlier then the roosters since there was such a long way to go, two hours later, I was coming to an end of what the locals call the '28 bends' appropriately named after its endless upward spiral hill to reach the highest peak by road, when I finally did reach the top I was completely alone and everything just seemed to come to a screaming silence.
There are certain things humans come in contact with or do that gives them an instant rush of pure contentment, where everything seems perfect and you think about nothing but that present situation, it's like your heart skips several beats and you are temporally floating in Ecstasy, like when you listen to a beautiful piece of music, or when climaxing while having sex or even looking into a child's gaping eyes. I was experiencing this feeling at this moment when I came into contact with the 'Tigers' view. I just sat there completely brain dead, I didn't need my tainted mind, I was just in the moment, this is how perfect this view was. After that moment, the rest of the 8hour trek flew by, it has been the best part of my trip so far.
Next spot after rushing through the Sichaun Provence, Chendu, famous for hot Tibetan food and Giant Panda's I was in my favourite City so far, the end of the 'Silk Road', Xi'an. This is of course home to the mighty Terracotta Warriors, as a potential History Student, Xi'an was incredaby interesting. I went to the Museum which actually hold the books of Confucius and the legendary Monk, Zuang Xang. The Warriors were spectacular and I could have spent the whole day gazing into these Ancient Pits, so in fact, I did. I am now in my present location, Beijing, The Heart of China and Communism. I fear China still has not finished with me, I am coming to an end of her road and the question will be, will I come out happy to have met her or is she best to be left alone?
You quickly notice China possesses exceptional beauty in the form of imposing Mountains and Ancient Culture, it started for me in Yongshuo in Guanxi Provence, which for centuries has been revered by Poets and Scholars alike for its Natural beauty, getting lost on a crappy Chinese made bicycle through endless rice paddies and river banks whilst futilely communicating with the local farmers. Four hours out is Longshen, which holds the gigantic 800 years old Rice Terraces, it has been Christened 'Dragon Backbone Terraces' in typical over-the-top Chinese fashion. It is an inspirational trek over these Ancient man made Mountains all created to cultivate rice in low and high altitudes.
It was definitely an easy and dubiously effortless start to China, but it seemed she was just toying with me in an attempt to send me into a false calm, her first test was in the form of a very large Train Station. It is a total nightmare, a couple of thousand Han, all giving you the impression of absolute contempt in a room directed at a handful of small windows controlled by uninterested, overworked Chinese Woman. I found the trick is to keep in mind with China and its infinite obstacles is that you do it, because there is no other option. If you don't get the ticket, you don't move, if you don't find food, you don't eat, if you don't find a pillow, you don't sleep. This of course doesn't make it any easier, especially when you are following the tracks of many travellers who did find another option, leaving, but there was something about China that drew me towards her, she was like a notable spoilt brat, and by all reasonable logic, I should have dumped her long ago, but there is somethings you can't explain, and I was attracted to her mysterious beauty. It took 19 hours but I made it to Kunming, Yunnan Provence, you have never seen so many Banks. It seems China has very few Domestic business and they over compensate for this with the few they do have, Banks and 'China Mobile' litter this City and most other's for that matter in the form of windowless concrete monsters. I didn't stay long here but was surprised by its cleanliness and wealth, I spent my little time here strolling the City eating watermelon and corn on the cob from street vendors. This is also the City that the legend of Chinese spitters was proven to be not only true, but contagious. There is something quite free about making a very loud hoicking sound right in the back of your throat to gather as much flem as possible and spitting it in front of everyone in public and not getting any questioning looks about your place in society, I hope to bring this habitual practice back home with me to bring a bit of humility to New Zealanders. Kunmings main reason for been a destination with China's relative few Western travelers is to get to smaller parts of Yunnan, my first one been the Ancient walled town of Dali. Most famous for the 'Three Pagoda's" its a very pleasant little city which used to be home to the minority Bai people, I thought this place to rather over rated by travelers and after seeing the sights and picking up food poisoning from a Muslim restaurant I was on a local bus to another Ancient Town, Lijiang. The bus ride was very opening for me because China decided to give me yet another test to try my loyalty to her. In a very short amount of time to what seemed like such a trivial reason, I gained something I had not felt for a long time since leaving home, HATE.
I was suffering from slight motion sickness in this very small bus, I was in a pretty lousy mood for what ever reason then of course a China-man sits next to me as his last resort since even the preferred floor space was taken up, it seems Europeans repulse working class Chinese, he then reaches over me, closes the window and proceeds to light a cigarette directed straight in my face, at that exact point, I couldn't have felt a stronger pure hatred to towards this man and the entire race of China. Something in me just clicked, I started thinking of all the shit I had endured since I walked over that border, all the trivial, bureaucratic nonsense the Chinese do and all I wanted to do was get the Hell out. I finally arrived in Lijiang and since it was one of those days, every Taxi refused to take me to a Hostel, after 5KM of walking with 20kg on my back, I couldn't have cared any less if China imploded on it self there and then. China is a mysterious creature, because just like a flick of the fingers, she gave me an experience I would never forget, she gave me her personal jewelry box filled with jade mountains, sapphire rivers, a gold sun and the purest white silk covering the mountain tops of her highest peaks, it was China's deepest Gorge, the 'Tiger Leaping Gorge'.
I decided to trek her by my self to appreciate its true spender, It started off very averagely along a gravel road, I had walked for about an hour until I came to a fork in the road with a shop in the middle selling the usual over priced goods, the China man asked if I wanted to by some water, I refused, and as a result, he pointed me into the wrong direction. Two hours later, after seeing no sign of life I started to worry, I came to this open grass field held up by an Ancient Cliff and realised I could be in a bit of trouble, I sat down for a minute to contemplate the true situation, it was getting dark, no one was around, I had no idea where to go and I was a few hundred meters on a cliff face. Something at that point hit me that I had never before considered since my travels, I was completely alone, I couldn't just ring up my parents, I couldn't talk to a friend about it China seemed at the time pretty set on screwing with me, I was honestly quite scared, if you really think about it, there are very few times in ones life where you are completely alone in any given situation, but I was being tested by the Chinese mistress. I then saw a small angel in the form of a trekker right at the bottom of the Cliff signalling to me where the actual path is, next thing I know, I'm precariously running along some rocks in the cliff face that I would never have even considered looking at due to the stupid danger combined with my prudent nature to get to this path, I obviously made it without tumbling into the Yanzte but that point opened me to something very strange, this was the start of something quite extraordinary along the Tiger Leaping Gorge. I stayed the night in a Naxi guesthouse and started earlier then the roosters since there was such a long way to go, two hours later, I was coming to an end of what the locals call the '28 bends' appropriately named after its endless upward spiral hill to reach the highest peak by road, when I finally did reach the top I was completely alone and everything just seemed to come to a screaming silence.
There are certain things humans come in contact with or do that gives them an instant rush of pure contentment, where everything seems perfect and you think about nothing but that present situation, it's like your heart skips several beats and you are temporally floating in Ecstasy, like when you listen to a beautiful piece of music, or when climaxing while having sex or even looking into a child's gaping eyes. I was experiencing this feeling at this moment when I came into contact with the 'Tigers' view. I just sat there completely brain dead, I didn't need my tainted mind, I was just in the moment, this is how perfect this view was. After that moment, the rest of the 8hour trek flew by, it has been the best part of my trip so far.
Next spot after rushing through the Sichaun Provence, Chendu, famous for hot Tibetan food and Giant Panda's I was in my favourite City so far, the end of the 'Silk Road', Xi'an. This is of course home to the mighty Terracotta Warriors, as a potential History Student, Xi'an was incredaby interesting. I went to the Museum which actually hold the books of Confucius and the legendary Monk, Zuang Xang. The Warriors were spectacular and I could have spent the whole day gazing into these Ancient Pits, so in fact, I did. I am now in my present location, Beijing, The Heart of China and Communism. I fear China still has not finished with me, I am coming to an end of her road and the question will be, will I come out happy to have met her or is she best to be left alone?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
WAM, BAM thats veitNAM
I am constantly in a state of awe over big Asian Cities, it feels as if their life blood is constantly rushing through their vein like streets with the heart been the unique culture found only in Asia, Ho Chi Minh was no exception, it' s in your face, loud and everything seems to end up going past in a fuzzy blur and I can't get enough of it. I made my way up from down below to the tip of Vietnam and I just cruised the whole way. Vietnam is notably different from the rest of upper South East Asia, for one they don't muck around, everything is moving purposefully and efficiently and although it's communist it's sparlwing with large capitalist industries and business. Apparently after the Bali bombing, the usual holiday makers migrated to the undiscovered Vietnam, this is why there is such a large portion of Australians there. I had all my destinations planned in HCMC because you save mega bucks by booking one big open bus ticket, in fact I spend under $18 on transport in my entire time in Vietnam. After seeing the sights of HCMC you get the impression they aren't super pro American, and this is truly propagated through the War museums, horrific uncensored photographs that bring up all types of emotions, anger been a hard one to suppress. Before I know it, I'm on my planned bus up to Nha Trang starting to regret having to work my trip around a ticket until something pounded through my veins, I was elated and excited. After traveling over 2 months on inland landlocked countries I had finally come back to the Ocean, the mere smell of the salt water gave me goosebumps, I had spent that entire day bumming on the beach forgetting I hadn't slep for nearly 22 hours. Nha trang also had a really relaxing night life, I was dorming with a few Scandinavians which can only mean trouble when alcohol is involved, I have yet to find a nation to drink a Scan under the table, Nha Trang was a holiday within a holiday. The next morning was a bit of a downer when I found out I was drugged and then robbed the previous night but was redeemed with a boat trip I took to the local Islands, drinking very cheap wine on the Vietnam's turquoise water. I was then pulled back into reality quite literally by my bus ticket to Hoi an. This Chinese influenced backstreet town was paved with old bricks and lined with interlocking houses. I really enjoyed just strolling the streets which was good since there isn't much else to do other then buy incredibly cheap tailored clothing. This is what the town is actually famous for and is quite amuzing seeing these Western backpackers buying suits knowing their bags are already filled to the brim. The problem is the language barrier, it's all well and good getting something to your exact needs but is useless when the woman doing the tailoring doesn't speak English, I met a girl who wanted a woolen sweater and ended up getting it in lycra. The town of Hui was next and this town is pretty desolate, I stayed one night and left to the arduous journey up to Hanoi, over 750KM of road to the capital which by now I am very used to until I had the unfortunate luck of getting seated next to an Aussie Baptist that proceeded to tell me how science is evil. Luckily, I was given a tip by numerous travelers to take a couple Valium for the long excursions to knock you out, so I offerd the preacher a couple. I was finally at the capitol and although it's not as lively as HCMC it's pretty exciting. I was stuck here for quite a while waiting for my Chinese Visa to be processed to I took a trip to the beautiful Haolong Bay on a traditional Junk boat. Three days on the water with good people, great food and the local beer, sweet. Came back and moved around three different hostels, saw the famous Hanoi Water Puppet show and all the other sights and I was off to begin my next adventure. I decided to make my own way to the border since I am a cheap skate backpacker but it turned out to be much harder then I thought, I eventually got to the Vietnamese side of the border and was forced to stay the night in the rotten town of Dong Dang, waking up the next morning quite nervous unknowing what was awaiting me over the next 100m of land, CHINA....
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