Colombia:Part I, The Interior

I have wanted to go to Colombia for a long time. First, back in high school when it was considered one of the most dangerous places on earth. My mythology teacher told our class stories of traveling through the country with her husband after they got married. They were in three automobile accidents, their bus tipped over once and they were shot at. Sound like a honeymoon to you?

That is the Colombia of yesterday, a far cry of what you see today. The people and government have tried hard-and succeeded-in changing the country's reputation from a kidnapping and drug smuggling paradise to a peaceful and diverse destination. So much in fact that today the Department of Tourism for Colombia has a slogan that says, "Colombia. The only risk is wanting to stay."

I arrived in Bogota and stayed with a friend of mine, Melissa. Melissa and I had never met face-to-face before but we've known each other for several years through a mutual friend of ours whom I went to school with, Aida. Remember the opening scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith where the characters played by Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie meet in Bogota at a colonial-style hotel ridden with bullet holes, surrounded by palms and it's about 100 degrees outside and explosions are going off in the distance? Colombians hate that movie. The city has an elevation near 8,000 feet in the Andes Mountains and temps rarely exceed 70 degrees, there are very few examples of colonial architecture or palm trees and the city has never been under heavy fighting like was shown in the movie. I don't blame Hollywood though, I mean who wants to see Angelinain a parka?

For four days Melissa and I cruised around Bogota seeing the sights like the Salt Cathedral, going shopping (I needed to boost my wardrobe) and surfing her internet for free (a luxury I hadn't enjoyed for months.) We also went to a birthday party for one of her friends and I was introduced to vallenato, a type of folk music that's very popular on the Caribbean coast. Its accompanied by an accordion and guacharaca, a ridged stick that is played by scraping a wire fork over the ridges to keep the rhythm.

From Bogota I went to Medellin. I could live in Medellin. The weather is described as "eternal spring" and fluctuates very little throughout the year. (Wyoming readers: "spring" is a pleasant season between winter and summer characterized by warm temperatures, new growth, emergence and renewal. It doesn't exist where you live!) Previous generations might associate Medellin with Pablo Escobar, whereas current generations associate it with Latin pop sensation, Juanes!

I don't know exactly what it is about the city but I got the feeling as soon as I arrived, that I liked it. Maybe its the weather, or the cleanliness of the streets, the convenience of the metro rail, the beauty of the valley or the attractiveness of its people. I'm sure its a combination of all these variables and more, the truth is I liked Medellin instantly!

My couchsurfing host was Veronica. What can I say about her? She's one of the best hosts I've had and she shaped my experience in Medellin into something I could not have experienced on my own. We walked through downtown visiting the botanical gardens, the planetarium and a couple parks. We were going dancing with her friends that evening. The famous Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez says, five Colombians in a room inevitable turns into a party. There is a lot of truth to that. As we waited for everyone to arrive a party spontaneously began on the sidewalk! A couple drinks, some plastic chairs, a barbecue grill and a stereo brought people together and before you know it I was receiving some vallenato dancing lessons right there on the sidewalk! Before long we went to a street lined with clubs blaring salsa, merengue, vallenato and reggaeton music and danced into the early morning.

The next day we went to town for the Labor Day Parade. Or at least, what I thought was going to be a parade. Veronica called it a march and when I asked if they would throw candy she said no, but they would probably throw explosives! That's when I learned a new Spanish word: lacrimogeno, or tear gas in English. About ninety-five percent of the marchers are normal, peaceful workers marching for recognition, representation or protesting labor rights. The other five percent are made up of the anarchists and communists. A select few actually believe in a cause and desire revolution. For the most part though, they are mostly young people who want to break stuff (Why else would the two groups march together? They should be polar opposites.)

We shadowed this group as they marched through town, spray-painting revolutionary slogans on store fronts, throwing rocks and paintballs at buildings and lighting explosives in sidestreets. The riot police soon showed up and walked alongside them acting as a small, and sometimes futile barrier, between the businesses and the marchers. You could physically feel the tension rising the further we walked and I was confident I was going to see some tear gas. See some tear gas, I wasn't thinking I was going to get shot with it! As soon as we arrived at a wide boulevard the police finally lost their patience. Veronica and I were in between the police and the hooligans (not a good place to be) when they stared running. I turned to look and saw smoke rising from gas canisters in the street and police shooting more into the crowd. I didn't look back again! I grabbed Veronica and turned to run when I was shot in the back. I ripped off the scarf I was wearing and gave it to Veronica and covered my face with my shirt to try to breathe. Tear gas makes it nearly impossible to see or breathe, both of which are very necessary when you're trying to run away from something. The entire morning I was excited to have this experience, but as we were running and my face was burning, and I couldn't open my eyes, I had snot hanging out of my nose and I wanted to puke up my lungs I decided, 'Okay, that's enough! I don't want this experience anymore!' Then just as we thought it was safe to slow down, the armored truck drove through and shot us with a water cannon which prompted us to run further.

Once you get away from the gas, your lungs feel better and your eyes begin to clear up, but your face continues to burn. Fortunately, my trusty sidekick new the antidote and bought some milk to wash our faces in. It quickly took the burning away and we gave it to anyone who needed it. At that moment, when we were standing in the street, soaking wet from the water cannon, our eyes teary and bloodshot, still trying to catch our breath and milk running down our faces, I gave Veronica a big hug thanking her for this experience and we began to laugh!

We were back with the other ninety-five percent in the march within fifteen minutes, eating a popsicle and listening to music like nothing happened. It was going to be another beautiful day in Medellin.

Let go

"We're going to have to let you go."

That's what you want to hear from a policeman when you've been caught red-handed, or from your parents on prom night when that gorgeous girl finally accepted your invitation, or from a fisherman after you-a beautiful rainbow trout-were caught by his favorite dry fly and getting dangerously close to a future in a frying pan. It's not what you want to hear from you boss, in the middle of a global financial crisis, five thousand miles from home, when what you're being "let go" from is what many would consider at most, to be a dream job and at the least, a pretty sweet gig to occupy your time before going onto the next adventure. It gets no better when that next adventure needs to be determined within the next four days at which time you're made to leave your home, food and friends for.... well, it doesn't matter where you go, you just can't stay here.

You can imagine my sense of nervousness as I pieced together places to stay for days at a time, only days in advance. I stayed up later, I slept in longer, started reading more, thinking more, worrying more. Not that it was necessarily necessary. I was taken care of. A good friend who lives near where I worked said I could stay the whole week if I needed it. I would have been completely lost without him. Thank you Zola. Before long, as the news spread across the creek, my friend in Wales offered to share his dorm room for a few days while I figured out where I was going next. Thanks Jonny.

To fill you in, I'd been helping out with a holiday company in the French Alps. A usual day was spent with breakfast and a morning prayer meeting and then usually cleaning rooms and making beds until lunch at which time we had a few hours to go hit the ski slopes before coming back to the chalet to prepare for dinner. I quickly became a star player in the after-dinner dishwashing and could usually be found there or in the kitchen while dinner was being served to the guests. My co-workers were a young bunch from England who were full of energy-too much energy sometimes-but easy to get along with and people who I hope to keep in touch with in the future. Thanks guys, you know who you are.

I had hoped to move to Paris with Olivier when he got an apartment, however everyone is looking for an apartment these days and he ended up sharing a house with some others. I could come for a visit but staying for a long period of time or looking for work would be out of the question. Olivier tried his hardest to make something work for me, but in the end, some things just don't turn out the way you thought they would. (Terimah kasih banyak Olivier!) When you pray for guidance you shouldn't be upset when doors begin to close in your face. Some are closed before you walk into the room, others are closed after you've been pushed out of them. But sometimes, the easiest way to make a decision is to decide what I don't want to do, or what I can't do. Then it's easier to focus on what is possible. Guidance.

In Singapore I remember writing in my journal that I was anxious to get to Latin America. I wasn't concerned with Europe and was in fact willing to bypass it altogether in order to be eating gallo pinto and listening to reggaeton all the sooner. However, I was still holding on to Europe. I was holding onto working, holding onto another ski season and holding onto another continent, another language and another year abroad. The longer I stayed in France, the further I'd have to wait to get to South America. Perhaps the doors have properly closed, perhaps it's time to move on, perhaps it's my time to let go of some of my small desires in order to fulfill my larger ones. So this is me, let go, and letting go.

C'est la belle vie

December 12, 2008
Paris, France

One must record their first impressions of France. You really shouldn't let the glasses of wine and the increasing exhaustion of travel and transit force you to sleep and blur the experience. And here I write:

My first thought-despite it feeling colder here than in London-was where are all the pretty people? I felt like they all stayed in London. Parisians are homely and fair-some are outright ugly to be honest. Hair is matted and disheveled, eyeliner is applied too thickly and most ensembles are seemingly, loosely and quickly thrown together.

The metro isn't as nice either. It stinks for one, and there is an absence of escalators and personnel around. The turn stalls are a pain and the trains are old. I would say of every city rail system I've been on this year-Paris comes up last in terms of cleanliness and modernity. That's saying something considering I've been to Manila.

Of course it's not all bad, I just needed to get the negative out so I could embellish the positive. I found the pretty people in shopping malls wearing designer clothes and smelling better than laundry fresh out of the drier. Then again when I met Olivier's friends and later in the week when we went out dancing.

Paris is quiet. It's surprising how quiet it is near a main street or just around the corner from a common landmark busy with visitors. Parisians have been quite friendly today as Olivier and I walked around lost most of the day stopping random people for directions. Perhaps because conversations were conducted by Olivier in French, but I'm not letting that arguably arbitrary fact sway my feelings that we were met with very friendly people today. Helpful people and some quite jovial.

The reputation for a love of food is duly deserved. Food literally lines the sides of some narrow, cobblestone streets we walked down today. Seafood, fruit and vegetables, even spices are prominently displayed enticing even the un-hungry to stop and browse a while.

I helped a Guatemalan girl carry her luggage to Gare du Nord this morning when I got of the bus. Then I met Olivier near Chatelet and we stashed our luggage at his old workplace and walked around the city past the Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame and a couple other cathedrals. I bought a phone and SIM straight away so that's out of the way.

I was exhausted by 7:00pm when we met Oliv's beautiful girlfriend Elod back where our bags were. I was staying (am staying) at Olivier's friend's house, Rafael. He cooked dinner for us tonight. Seared duck, with fried potatoes served with a blue cheese sauce and a fruity white wine for accompaniment. This will forever be my first dinner in Paris-and what a welcome it was!

It's gearing up to be a great weekend!

I love my friends!

Fear not my friends, I am alive and well! A thousand apologies for what must have been an excruciating silence over the past-can you believe it?-month since I've last updated my world tour. You'll find me now in a small mountain village in the French Alps. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me fill you in since my last update...

Celebrating Thanksgiving Day with Ben's family in London was a lot of fun. I had a lot to be thankful for over the past year and especially in my current position stying with Ben and his family. They were wonderful hosts, ever ready to make a cup of tea, help me plan my day or have a chat. While Ben was working during the day I caught up on reading some books my friend Trevor sent me, chatting online and going to the fridge whenever I was hungry! You don't' know what a luxury it is to be able to hop into the kitchen and have a bite to eat whenever you wish as opposed to going to a restaurant or food stall. One of the things I enjoyed most was being in a home again and waiting for those friendly faces to come back in the afternoon after being at work.

Ben and I went to Hillsong church in London on Sundays and attended a couple other activities like a men's day, teaching night and home group. I made some friends, ate some good foo and rocked out to eh Hillsong worship team. We also managed to explore some of the city and take some photographs on Ben's day off.

I was fortunate enough to have three of my friends from the States come visit me in London. Helen and I met in Costa Rica and hung out together in Denver a few times afterwards. She'd been in Spain for awhile and was finishing up her time in Europe bagging a few extra countries and between seeing a former roommate in Sweden and her dad in Ireland she had a stopover in London and stayed with me. We shared a fantastic day doing the tourist thing. We walked past Big Ben, the London Eye, Tower Bridge and Buckingham Palace. We had some fish and chips, rode a double-decker bus and took a photo in a telephone booth. To finish in classic "terry-and-Helen" style we took the wrong metro line and she nearly missed her airport transfer! Fortunately she made it on time and last I heard she was in Italy with her father.

Trevor and I also met in Costa Rica during a semester abroad. He now works for the company we studied with and was sent to London on a business trip. It had been five years since we'd seen each other, but we've kept in contact ever since and we never missed a beat as we met in London and went to a football (soccer) match. We managed to meet up another night for dinner with his colleagues and we all met up again in Paris a few days later. It was great to get to spend some time together again after five years. And what better than over a croque madame and cafe au lait with a view of the Eiffel Tower!

First Impressions: London

All my regrets from purchasing a wool jacket in Vietnam and carrying it with me quite uselessly for two months through equatorial Asia quickly vanished near baggage claim at Heathrow Airport. It was cold! It was even colder outside the airport and on the train-er, sorry, the tube. Here's a quick lesson in London lingo; what's the difference between the tube, train, metro, subway, underground and overground? If you can tell me I'd be happy to know. The obvious answer is that the tube, subway and underground are all the same thing since they are under the ground... except that sometimes they aren't, in fact sometimes they are elevated similar to a skyrail. And then there's added confusion that the overground is often underground! The tube/underground is not called a train even though it is a train. The overground is considered a train. Can you understand my confusion when I arrived? I'm happy to announce after two weeks, London transportation and I are good friends.

England is an interesting country in its antiquity. Everything is so old! I walked by a small church near Old London Road in Kingston which was consecrated in the eleventh century and has been under the ownership of the same school since the sixteenth century! Colombus had just 'discovered' my country at that time and here this church was already five hundred years old, yet it still stands to this day. This particular church isn't unique in London either. There are several standing examples of the history of the area. Beachcombers can be seen along the banks of the Thames River browsing among the discarded tires and broken bottles for artifacts and remnants of centuries past.

Despite the cold-which isn't the dry, windy, Wyoming type but a damp, quiet coldness-the city remains colorful. The grass and various evergreens are still green and there are flowers that still bloom. Single and double-decker buses are common and reflect a brighter, more monotonous red than the brick building neighborhoods they drive through. There is a certain familiarity to the city I've likely gained from watching television and movies. I would say it's somewhat similar to the feeling I had in Los Angeles. Although in Los Angeles I felt like everything was fake, make believe on a giant movie set. Whereas in London after walking past the London Eye and seeing Big Ben for the first time it hit me that I'm really in England!

The biggest shock was of course the price of everything. From the airport to Ben's house I'd already spent what was my daily budget in Southeast Asia on the underground and a couple phone calls. This was going to take some getting used to. Fortunately-depending on your point of view-the pound has fallen significantly in the last year and my dollars are going a little further than they would have before. Thankfully I'm staying with Ben's family and are at the mercy of their wonderful hospitality. After a couple days I came to the realization I'd have to find a job quick or go back to Wyoming. Physically it'd be easier to go back to Rock Springs, but I decided I'm not finished yet. My world tour isn't about to be over that quickly!

Indonesia Revisited

The decision to return to Indonesia was becoming more and more appealing. A part of me had seriously questioned whether to leave Indonesia back in May, or postpone my outbound ticket and spend some more time in Java and neighboring Sulawesi. In the end, I took my friend Alison's advice and left. Six months later, there I was, full circle through Southeast Asia only a ferry ride from Sumatra, my Indonesian horizon.

I was surprised at how nostalgic I became when I arrived. Even the currency I'd exchanged into Rupiah brought back a comfortable familiarity. Hearing the language again was like hearing a favorite song on the radio. My tongue said words that I knew I'd said before, months earlier, but couldn't remember the meaning. My sentences would finish automatically, and then I'd ask the meaning of what I'd just said. Indonesian food isn't anything to brag about but I found myself salivating over the thought of my favorite local foods and couldn't wait to try them again.

In Dumai, where I arrived on the ferry, an English teacher found me waiting at the bus station's office. He said he heard there was a westerner in town and wanted to offer me free accommodation in return for English conversation with his students. Who told him I was in town? I'd just arrived less than ten minutes ago! So went the rest of my Sumatran experience. Especially on weekends, tourist traps were just that, traps set by adolescent English language students hunting for English speakers to practice with. The practice consisted of poorly worded questions that their teacher obviously advised they ask such as, "Do you agree with the economic crisis in America?" "Do you prefer Indonesia or America?" I couldn't believe that any twelve year-old was interested in the answers of their prepared questions (they weren't) so I changed the subject and instead asked them about where they came from, what was their favorite music or football team. Afterwards they all huddled around to get a picture of the tourist. The danger of speaking with one group of students is it gives the other groups a chance to move in where you repeat the same cycle of unanswerable questions-"Excuse me sir. What's the difference between America?"-then pictures and signatures while another group prepares to advance. There aren't many tourists in this part of the world so students would wait outside my guesthouse waiting for me to leave in the mornings. And to think some people are afraid to come here for fear of being attacked by radical Islamic terrorists. Forget about the terrorists, but keep a keen eye out for the English students!
Poor weather kept me from staying long at either Bukittinggi or Padang and I found myself on the island of Samosir in Lake Toba. It is said to be the largest island inside an island (that being Sumatra.) The lake is a crater lake and green hills surround the entire thing. Not much happens on the island so it's a nice place to relax, eat, explore waterfalls, take a swim or play chess-all of which I did my fair share of. The owner of my guesthouse and I played a minimum of five games of chess a day. I beat him once, drew twice and lost every game otherwise. After a week of staying and eating at the guesthouse he offered a challenge; one game of chess, I win and I leave without paying my bill, he wins and I have to stay another day. He won, I paid but still left that afternoon.

After a series of ferry, taxi and bus rides that lasted all night into the next morning I arrived in Pulau Weh, an island off the coast of Banda Aceh at the tip of Sumatra. Pulau Weh is gorgeous! I scored a wooden bungalow with a palm thatch roof and a hammock that's actually over the ocean. And not just any ocean, beautiful, calm, warm, blue-hued ocean full of colorful fish! The area I stayed was quite cozy. If anyone arrived we all knew about it. A surprising concentration of Americans arrived but also Germans, Belgians, French, Dutch, Chinese, Italians, Koreans and Malaysians.
Most of my days consisted of, or at least included snorkeling or scuba diving. The snorkeling was amazing. Beforehand I'd only seen a lionfish on two occasions in the Philippines. I saw seventeen of them here in an hour of snorkeling. Around dusk some beautiful blue fusiliers could be found schooling around some coral heads just in front of my bungalow. If classical music could be seen, visualized, it would take the form of these schooling fishes. That's how I'd describe it.

It was this spectacle I was on my way to witness when I thought the quest for a sea snake was over. Literally right in front on my bungalow, two meters from where I knelt to rinse the spit out of my mask was a snake, banded in black and white! It was searching for food in the cracks and holes around. As I watched it I began to have doubts. After all it just didn't act completely snakelike to me. Something was off. I was right, I found a picture of one in the dive shop's book on marine life. It was a harlequin snake eel. Not reptilian at all. I didn't have to wait long though. A few days later on my last day I found one and this time had no doubt as to what it was. A banded sea krait, potentially deadly but very placid. It took no notice of me as I watched it poke its head into cracks and under coral looking for small fish. I pushed my lungs to the limit as I dove down a few meters to where it was, and gently held it while still allowing it to hunt. As much as I was enjoying myself I was freezing from being in the water for nearly two hours and had to get out.

The diving was also nice although sometimes I felt like the snorkeling was better. A bit unfair to say probably as you don't have much to think about when you're snorkeling whereas I was concerned with my buoyancy, air consumption and decompression limits while I was diving. I dove six times over the course of two weeks, including once at night. I hadn't been too taken with diving previously. It's different, and interesting but I wasn't sure if the cost was worth the reward. Here in Indonesia I better realized what diving was-which is simply breathing underwater-and what it isn't-it's not a breathtaking experience every dive where you constantly see sharks, whales, turtles, etc.-and I think now that I realize this, I've become not only a better diver, but I appreciate diving more. I'll be excited to go again sometime. I'm sure it'll be even more enjoyable with old friends and my ultimate goal would be to dive with my dad who was certified nearly thirty years ago. [So here's a formal request to my father: When are we going diving together Dad?]

Indonesia remains my favorite Southeast Asian country and a place I hope dearly I'll get to return to someday. Before boarding my flight (which only cost $40!) to Malaysia I had one last straight-razor shave in a barber shop and went around town sampling my favorite foods one last time. It was then, while I was on the back of a motorbike receiving smiles from girls in headscarves, waves and salutations from businessmen and curious friendly glances in traffic that I confirmed it; I love this place! The landscape of Indonesia is beautiful and diverse, the people are friendly, the language is a joy and the climate is pleasant. I like how sandals are quickly kicked off before entering a home or shop, how Indonesians touch their hearts after shaking hands, the faint smell of cloves in the air and the sound of a pop star singing a love song on the radio in a language I almost speak.

Best-Case Scenario

"I've heard climbing near Krabi is good." "Oh yeah! Tonsai is where you want to go."
"You've been?"

"Yeah. Couple years ago. Meant to spend two weeks there and stayed for three months."

"Three months! Haha. It's that good huh?"

"Wait 'till you see it."

"But I don't have any gear."

"No problem, just meet other climbers. Everyone's cool there."

The conversation I'd had three months earlier in the Philippines was fresh in my mind as I walked down the beach. Nobody. Beautiful rock, but no one to climb it with. Unwilling to shell out the cash of a guide I'll move on tomorrow-another disappointment.

I went back to my book, which I'd put down hours earlier in order to go find some climbing buddies before I gave up, and picked a beach chair next to two girls who were also reading. Slightly disappointed I dove back into the plot of an African boy destined to be the welterweight champ of the world. And then she moved. It wasn't her movement that was significant, but what she moved, a pair of blue, lace-up, Boreal climbing shoes.

"You're a climber?" I tried to sound more impressed than facetious. My tone landed somewhere in the middle.

"Yeah, but we're taking a rest day today." She pressed an index finger onto her skin and waited for the color to return to where she pressed, the international test for sunburn. "You just get here?"

"Yeah."

"How long you staying?"

"Well, I planned on a couple weeks, but I'm not sure. How long've you two been here?" Their eyes turned up and their mouths hung open like they were thinking about a math problem, trying to count the days before answering in an air of disbelief that it's really been that long. I would ask a lot of people that same question over the following days and they would all answer the same way, some people's math taking longer to compute than other's.

"We're going to try the traverse at the end of the beach. You want to come?"

That was how I met the M's; Emily and Emma. And how, less than four hours from arriving on the beach, excited to climb the surrounding limestone that was everywhere but feeling dejected that I'd fail to make friends in time, I was bouldering ten feet away from the Indian Ocean who's horizon was extinguishing a golden sunset behind me. The best part being, I wasn't as weak as I thought I was, the technique hadn't left me, my hands weren't bleeding and I could still climb! We made plans to climb together the next day and I just then realized, I was living my own best-case scenario.

The M's and I climbed together the next day, then took a trip to Ko Phi Phi, an island whose infrastructure was completely destroyed by the 2004 tsunami, and climbed there before we split up and I went back to Tonsai. The scene in Krabi is quite diverse. There are four main beaches in the area; Tonsai, Railay East, Railay West and Pranang Beach. Pranang is the nicest beach but there's nowhere to stay apart from a few resort style hotels. The Railay beaches are back-to-back, facing in opposite directions so the accommodation is basically the same, but East's beach is nearly non-existent and has a muddy bottom whereas West has sugary white sand and a view of the sunset. Railay West is the posterchild. Through the jungle, or over the hill or around the rocks at low tide are the three ways to get to Tonsai, where I stayed. The sand is coarse and the point offshore hides the sunset before it dips into the sea, but it's quiet, it's cheap and it's where most climbers decide to stay.

It seems everyone is a climber to some degree on Tonsai. During evening meals and over an apres climb drink, patrons are physically recounting the day's climbs with their hands in the air, grasping invisible pinches, sidepulls and slopers of invisible limestone at their dinner table.

There are loads of climbs suitable for every level of climber as well. To my climbing buddies I would describe it like this: Imagine Wild Iris (that's near Lander, WY to my non-climbing buddies,) increase the vertical, take away the mountains towards South Pass and insert the Indian Ocean, replace antelope with monkeys, increase the humidity, decrease the summertime heat to around 80 with plenty of shade trees and add a sleepy town within walking distance of the crag where there's plenty of food to shove down our necks when we're done! Then you'll be getting close to what it's like.

The deciding factor of where to climb in the morning is usually related to which climbs are going to be in the shade. The first day with the M's I asked if we really needed an entire bottle of water for each of us. They assured me we did and by ten o'clock we were all quickly finishing the second halves of our bottles. It didn't take long to realize these girls could climb. Although I'd been climbing longer than them, they had a clear mental edge when it came to lead climbing. They led everything without batting an eye while I was more hesitant and decided to let them have the first go before I would then lead. We climbed all day that day and I cleaned our gear off the final route in the dark by headlamp! We couldn't possibly have climbed anymore.

The fact they invited me to Ko Phi Phi was actually quit nice since, we'd be going as a group and be able to share a room and climb together. The ferry departed early the next day. I think we were all shocked at the amount of people, stores, bicycles and noise that was on the island. The funny thing is that Ko Phi Phi isn't any more loud or crowded than any other popular island in Thailand, but after being in Tonsai where there are only two trucks in the entire village (and one's broken) you take for granted the stillness of that place. We all instantly wished to be back in Tonsai!

To escape we went to Long Beach at the other end of the island. We were saving ourselves to go climbing the next day and dedicated this day to finding a sea snake and working on our tans. I grabbed my mask and rented some fins and set out to find my reptilian friends. The visibility was about nine meters and I was swimming in about ten meters of water. So I could just make out the bottom and still have a nice view of the coral formations that rose up closer to the surface. I didn't see much and slightly regretted not waiting for the others because now I was alone, bored and about two hundred meters from the shore in ten meters of water. I was thinking about swimming back to shore when the biggest reef shark I've ever seen made up my mind for me! I've seen sharks before while SCUBA diving, but never snorkeling. And it should be mentioned that whereas I'm not afraid of much while I'm diving, I'm afraid of everything when I'm snorkeling; trash, jellies, seaweed, you name it. This shark was over eight feet long and swimming off to my left. He didn't seem too interested in me, but I suppose that's what they want you to think. My first reaction was, O crap a shark! then the biologist in me thought, O cool a shark! and I started swimming towards it, not necessarily to get closer to it, but I felt more comfortable when I could see it than when it disappeared which it didn't take long to do. I turned around wondering if maybe I should go back when another one came out, a little bigger, looking a little hungrier and I decided my mind was made up. Forget the sea snakes, bring on the tan!

The next day was a lot of fun and like the time before, we were finishing the day in our headlamps. The view from the top of the climbs was amazing and Emily and I decided to do a multi-pitch climb to take advantage of it, but when she climbed up to meet me at the top of the first pitch I couldn't feel my legs anymore due to the hanging belay cutting off my circulation, so she finished the second pitch and I rappelled down. Emily was the most adventurous that day, especially when she was climbing the hardest route of the day, just between the last bolt and the anchors and was attacked by monkeys! I'm not kidding, they climbed up the tree next to the rock and went to attack, I don't' know how she kicked them off and stayed on the rock, but we had a good laugh about it afterwards!

When I got back to Tonsai I met Rob, a Canadian climber from British Columbia. We climbed the following day alternating between easy and more difficult routes. I was belaying him on the first route of the day when it started raining. Fortunately for him the rock was overhanging enough he wasn't getting wet. As for me, I was pressed up against the rock trying to stay dry and the neighboring monkeys, excited from the rain were running through my belay area! Fortunately they were nice monkeys, unrelated to the thieving mongrel monkeys of Ko Phi Phi. After climbing all day and successfully climbing a route I'd fallen on earlier we headed for our daily meeting with the Fried Chicken Lady who sells delicious, grilled chicken (Grilled Chicken Lady doesn't have the same ring to it) and mango sticky rice for a little over $1.

The following day was going to be a rest day. I woke up late, read a few chapters of One Hundred Years of Solitude and then went to a leisurely breakfast. I was halfway through my iced coffee when Emily showed up with her friend from Bahrain. They had only arrived the afternoon before and were going climbing that day, would I like to come along? Sure! Rest day or not, I wasn't about to miss a climbing opportunity. We went around to East Railay and spent the day climbing there. We found some really fun moderate climbs that afternoon and I was happy to see another part of the area where I hadn't climbed yet. Then, at the end of the day, after we raced the incoming tide back to Tonsai I met Rob over some grilled chicken.
"You climb today?"
"Yep, we were at 1, 2, 3 Wall all day."
"Are you tired?"
"You mean do I want to go climbing tomorrow?" he shook his head yes. "Yeah, I'll go with you tomorrow!" I laughed.

Just then a newly arrived couple came to browse the delicacies of the Fried Chicken Lady. Rob and I voiced our approval of the food and after they ordered they sat down on broken plastic chairs and asked us, "You been here awhile?"
I furrowed my brow, looked up at the sky with my mouth open as I calculated my own silent math problem. "Yeah, I guess it's been two weeks now." And the circle was complete.

Straddling the tourist trail in Laos

A bacon cheeseburger, fries and mustard-oh mustard!-awaited me back in Chiang Mai. I instantly felt better knowing I was going onto something new and celebrated by browsing the local bookstores for something to take on the two-day long trip to Luang Prabang in Laos. I arranged to travel via longboat down the Mekong River from the Thai-Lao border to Luang Prabang. It's a popular route by travelers and I met a couple interesting backpackers and I finished both of my books during the two days! The river trip is everything people say it is; it's great for meeting people, for reading books, it's relaxing and you get to see how life operates around the great artery that is the Mekong River. On the other hand, it's also noisy, crowded, hot and slow. Sometimes you've got to take the good with the bad.

In Luang Prabang my new found friends and I visited a nearby waterfall and did some hiking in the surrounding forest. We enjoyed a makeshift picnic between taking dips in the cold water and afterwards walked through the night market back in town. I moved on to Vang Vien soon after which is famous for both the plethora of caves around town and for tubing down the local Nam Ou River. It's similar to tubing back home in that you get a tube and a bunch of friends and cruise on down the river taking in the scenery and basking in the sun. The people of Vang Vien have capitalized on the potential of this by building bars next to the river and they excitedly reach out a bamboo pole or liferope for you to grab onto as they pull you into their establishment.

Apart from the drinking, which is the main draw for many people, the entertainment options are great. High, wooden towers rise over the banks for you to hurl yourself off of on a trapeze or zipline into the river below. I can't think of anything more dangerous than getting drunk, climbing up a tree and throwing yourself into a swift current. The lack of liability is supremely apparent and not surprisingly, drownings occur way too often. I may have been the only one not to consume a drop of alcohol on the river that day. But like a kid in a candy store I ran laps up to the trapeze and zipline. There are seven bars along the river and I tried four trapezes (perfecting my backflip as onlookers applauded,) a zipline and a mud volleyball game that quickly turned into mud wrestling! It was a great time on the river and I'm glad I didn't miss it.

The rest of the time I was in town I toured the local caves. My first cave was great, and I'm not particularly impressed with caves. It was lit up and had a walkway through it to guide you around the stalactites and other formations. At one point the lights stop but the sidewalk continues into the darkness. I whipped out my headlamp and beckoned my friends to follow along. We walked to the end of the walkway and turned off the light to experience complete darkness. It was a humbling feeling to think we'd be completely vulnerable if we didn't have that light. At the base of the cave is a beautiful blue lagoon where we swam with the locals. It was a lot of fun to joke around with them and take pictures with each other. I kept saying how much fun I was having.

Afterwards my friend Aurel and I drove out from the city on our motorbike, past the rice fields where workers were just finishing their work for the day and children were walking cattle back home. We came across a sign directing us to a cave advertising a "great adventure." We were up for a little adventure so we followed the sign down a muddy road to a group of kids who charged us 10,000 Kip (about $1) to continue onto the cave. Our guide was ten years old. It was a long walk up a dry riverbed to the entrance to the cave and it couldn't have been more different from our first cave. Sure it was still a cave and had all the cavy things that caves have in them, but it was extremely dark, the ceiling was much lower and ground was covered in slippery mud and jagged rocks. There were no barriers to prevent us from slipping into one of the holes along the sides which seemed to have no bottom and it lacked the inviting blue water of the previous cave. After a few minutes inside we decided that although it may be adventurous, we weren't in for a broken leg or slipping into an abyss and we decided to leave.

Like a lot of backpacker destinations, Laos has a distinct tourist trail. It starts in Chiang Mai, continues to Luang Prabang, Vang Vien and onto Vientiane where it splits in three and travelers go East to Vietnam, South to the rest of Laos and onto Cambodia or West back to Bangkok. Therefore, the people you see on the slow boat you may see again all along the trail. Aurel was on of these people, then there were the cyclists from Spain and a couple girls from Spain and Chile. All that to say, we all met up again quite randomly in Vang Vien and decided to go out. Since we were some of the only people in the club, the DJ let us pick which songs we wanted to hear, and since all of us were Spanish-speakers we played all our favorite Spanish songs and danced the night away! Just as the day began, is how it ended, with me clarifying just how much fun this was.

I must say something about the pork I had in Vang Vien. At a street stall on evening a woman invited me to come closer and handed out a piece of meat with some forceps. Without asking what it was I popped it into my mouth (is that strange?) and I was overcome by what could quite possibly be the best BBQ pork ribs I've ever had in my entire life! Aurel and I bought a rack of ribs to share with each other and I vowed to return the next day which I did after an all-day trek to a distant cave and the pork woman was gone! Oh the disappointment! How many times had I walked by that very spot in the morning wishing she were there? I'd waited all day and could only think of how many ribs I would buy that night and how great they would taste as I ate the rotisserie-roasted goodness standing in the street and tossing the bones to the dogs. Instead the stand was replaced by a woman selling BBQ chicken, an inadequate substitute. But I bought some anyway.

Vientiane was the last stop on my Laos itinerary. I had a pleasant feeling when we arrived in town. The French influence is very apparent in the architecture and the array of French restaurants and bakeries. I immediately went to the French Cultural Center to inquire of French courses just to find out there aren't any at this time. Bummer. Aurel and I walked around the town, ate dinner along the Mekong and gazed out at the lights of Thailand across the river. We parted ways as he went back to Bangkok and I stayed on awaiting my visa to Vietnam.

It was a sincere privilege to meet some fellow believers there in town. I spent Saturday afternoon watching the Olympics and playing farkle (yes they know how to play farkle!) and on Sunday I went to their evening meeting. Tears of joy rolled down my face as we sang "It is Well," and "Blessed be Your Name." There was nowhere else that I'd rather be in that moment that right there with my eternal brothers and sisters in the presence of the fellowship of believers. We shared some great conversation, encouragement and food together before the night was over. I took the next couple days slowly and visited a couple new bakeries for lunch, rented a bicycle and rode around town and picked up my visa at the Vietnam Embassy. My Lao journey was at an end, but it would be very easy to come back.