In retrospect

A last story from us being back in town. With one foot back in reality. The other still refusing to follow...

We are so thankful- although we owe most to our own efforts- that we had the chance to travel around the globe for almost 11 months and make the trip that we wanted. This was our Big Trip.

During this year we had the chance to meet people from all over the world. Truly see, smell, feel and touch different countries with their distinctive cultures and people in their 'natural' environment. We had the chance to be among some of the most spectacular natural and culturally rich parts of the world. We had the chance to do some 'time traveling' from 2009 to 2010, to 2067 and from Mexico to Myanmar. We had the chance to see the contrasts between several parts of the world; from the extreme cleanliness of Japan to the dirty chaos of Nepal. From Hinduistic Nepal to Islamic Jordan, from gringo country numero uno Mexico to fancy Hongkong, from the kidneys of the Chinese kitchen to the highly refined Japanese 'sushi. We had the chance to be free. Surprises everyday. Not one day was the same. However, unfortunately we also experienced its dark side up close & personal being robbed at gunpoint in Santa Cruz de la Sierra (Bolivia). Being the only stain on the clean white sheet, this also an aspect of travelling of which we were aware that it could happen. And although we spent a lot of money, this is something which could never be expressed in any currency. In fact we are richer now than ever before...

Speaking about freedom... One of the most striking conclusions after our trip is that the freedom we thought we had, is in fact a limited conception of freedom. Yes, we were free to go where-ever and do whatever we wanted. This is definitely a form of freedom which is less present in our 'normal' life due to the daily patterns and routines, which are in fact a conditioned way of emprisonment (our psychic prisons). But freedom turned out to be a multidimensional concept and we discovered aspects to which we never paid much attention. The seemingly 'commonplace' freedom to dress how you like (instead of adapting your style to what is 'appropriate' in other cultures), to eat what you want, to have a normal and more or less regular 'stoelgang' (although we will miss our daily 'shit'-briefings) and to blend in the masses for some anonimity (instead of always being the center of attention), are aspects of freedom we learned to appreciate. Basically, the degree of freedom when travellingwas less obvious than we thought. Back home we immediately realized that here we feel free as well. Justdifferently. The challenge is to make sure not to get stuck again in our 'psychic prison', in our daily pattern and routines.

Related to the above notes about freedom is our hypothesis which we formulated en route: 'The more touristic a particular place is, the less friendly the locals are'. And unfortunately the hypothesis is tested over and over again and there is no other conclusion possible than that it has to be confirmed. The further we got off the beaten track where-ever, we met heartwarming people who are curious, inviting, warm, friendly but also poorer then anywhere else. However, in the heavily touristed areas the only thing the locals want is money. Understandable but annoying. We are convinced that one has not really visited a country when only visiting the tourist hotspots. See it as an incentive to visit places that are not hyped by guidebooks and internet. Just get off the beaten track and another world will literally open for you.

And then there are the fellow travellers... one of the most disappointing facets of our trip. In 11 months we just met a handful of nice people. And actually there are just the 'incroyable' Marco & Maya from Swiss and the 'Chinese' Israeli Noam & Shani, with whom we still are in touch. Hopefully we will continu our friendship from a distance and meet up in somewhere in the near future. But for the rest fellow travellers are the worst people around. It's even too much asked to say the two- letter word 'hi'... it seems that everyone thinks they make a 'voyage of discovery' to unknown and uninhabited worlds and find their own Garden of Eden. Wake up, it does not exist... just for a happy few perhaps.

Having read multiple guidebooks, having watched many travel programs on television, and trying to be a good 'world citizen', we were expected to travel 'green'. Another hype. We always throw our garbage in the bins, we use as little electricity as necessary, we don't ask for clean towels every day, we would like to fly as little as possible. But. If it is expected from tourists (or better 'guests') it should equally count for the locals. Unfortunately, here a clearly marked distinction is visible. Locals seem to be exempted from any kind of responsibility to their own environment. They throw their garbage everywhere, let the lights on whenever where-ever, etc. And the airlines also do not contribute to a green world by their highly illogical tariffs. We would prefer to fly straight from Quito (Ecuador) to Ciudad de Guatemala (Guatemala) without a doubt, fly less miles and hence contribute to a 'greener' world. However, if a straight flight costs substantially more then a flight with several illogical stopovers flying back and forth the planet, the choice is easily made... So please stop the marketing campaign about 'responsible travel' and just use your brains.

And we? Although we expected to change during our trip, this is only partly true. We are still the same persons be it a bit tougher, a little lighter but doubting even more then before about what to do with our lives wanting to make the best of it and do what our hearts tell us to do. Probably the biggest change is our physical condition which is better than it was the past years. The extensive hiking, mountaineering, biking, our 2 meals a day diet, made us lose the very necessary kilos. Besides physically feeling great, our minds are cleared and stress-free (at least for a short period of time...). Actually it has been a long time ago since we both felt so good physically.

And now the challenge begins to incorporate all the good things from our trip into our daily lives ... But that is not the easiest part as you get sucked into reality from the moment you touch ground. Things in Tilburg and Panevezys have not changed at all, but we are ... we feel as 'homeless birds'. To get adjusted to reality is harder than expected. Accepting the fact that 'our year' has passed in wink and seems to have left nothing but a dream is hard. Very hard.

Hopefully the memories will never fade and the other foot will never follow...

Thank you all for following us.

Love,

Marco & Lina

Welcome to Jordan!

The end of our trip is approaching rapidly now that we have arrived at our last destination: Jordan. Having visited countries where the major world religions are represented with their inherent distinctive cultures, we felt the need to experience an Islamic country as well to complete the picture under the motto 'equal opportunities'. And because of the fact that most countries in the region are hard to get into, due to strict visa regulations, Jordan was the best option. After having survived the chaos of Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu (Nepal) we boarded our Air Arabia flight to Sharjah (one of the United Arab Emirates) where we were welcomed by a breathtaking temperature of 40 degrees Celsius and a McDonald's, which was a blessing after 4 weeks of Nepali curries.... The cooling airconditioning and mouthwatering Royal Burger transformed the burden of waiting -so to speak- into a true pleasure. And then, after half a day hanging around at Sharjah airport having tried all perfumes in the duty free shop, it was finally time to board our next Air Arabia flight to Amman (Jordan).

Having arrivedat Queen Alia International Airport in Amman in the middle of night, having paid our 10 Jordanian Dinar for a stamp (you know the ones for postcards...) for visa purposes, we searched for our airport pickup service which we arranged from the first hotel in Amman which we booked ahead. But no one there.... Later the hotel staff explained: 'Sorry, no driver. Insha' Allah! Welcome to Jordan!'

Amman is an ancient Roman city formerly known as Philadelphia ('The City of Brotherly Love'), but except the impressive Roman Theater, the Jebel al- Qala'a (citadel) and the name of a major buscompany there is nothing left that reminds us of its glorious past. Amman is a schizofrenic city, roughly divided in east and west. The east side is the more traditional, but definitely most charming, downtown area. Here you find the sandcoloured concrete ramshackle box- shaped buildings, the jewelry souqs, the men- only coffee and tea houses (but sometimes also women- only), the local markets with the most delicious fruits and veggies we ever saw, the ultrasweet minttea and ultrasour lemon tea, the famous and teethache-causing sweets from Habibah bakery, the shish kebab and shish tawouq served with huge portions of the everpresent ubiquitous a' aish (= 'life' = Arabic bread!), the smell of spices blending in with the sweet perfumes and tobacco of the nargileh, the imam screeming his 'La illaha illa Allah Muhammed ur- rasul ullah' at 4 o'clock in the morning calling his followers to prayer including non- muslims like us, the mostly traditionally dressed women in full-body covering black chadors completed with the face- covering hejab (veil) with just enough space for the eyes to prevent them from falling from the sidewalks, men dressed in typical white djallabas and red-white 'Lawrence of Arabia'- headscarfs and some provocative 'No Terrorism'- TV commercials with clowns threatening to blow themselves up in a crowd

(curious? Checkthecommercial on our blog under the header of 'video's'). And not to forget the old lady inviting us in her home to come and see her Jesus- collection, after she double- checked that we were Christian as well... and of course we are... In short: downtown Amman has a warm hospitable typical oriental atmosphere that we did not expect in a capital with around 2.5 million inhabitants. Here is where you feel that you are in the Middle East, be it with a 21st century flavour. However, the west side of the city is where the more rich and 'modern' quarters of Shmeisani and Abdoun are located. Although especially Abdoun is nice, it could be pretty much anywhere in the world... no veils, no chadors, no nargilehs, no men (just women), no Lawrence of Arabia nostalgia, but lots of make up, sexy clothes, trendy bars and cafes and prices like in Europe... Although Amman is probably not the most exciting city in the Middle East nor the most beautiful one, it was a great place to experience our first sample of the Orient.

As the public transport in Jordan is pretty much non- existent we hired a car for a week. Being excited to drive after almost a year not sitting behind the wheel we headed for the desert in our shaking and hardly breaking Toyota Corolla. Firstly we headed for the desert castles of Qasr Kharana, Qasr Al- Azraq and Qusayr Amra in the Eastern Desert sandwiched between Syria in the North, Saudi Arabia in the South and Iraq in the East. The castles were impressive huge sandcoloured buildings in the middle of the desert evoking images of crusaders on white horses fighting with whoever comes too close (though it has never been proven that these castles where used as defensive forts...). Spending the night in the desert town of Al- Azraq 'close' to the abovementioned Islamic superpowers, with its extremely friendly locals, with a lamb kebab we never had before, with the local butcher proudly showing us the head of the lamb he had just killed (very 'halal'...

), was truly a memorable typical Middle East experience.

The next morning we left for the village of Umm Qais. After a few hours driving and getting adjusted to the Jordanian way of driving (driving in Poland will be peanuts from now on...), we arrived in Umm Qais, an unknown hidden gem in the North of Jordan. The ruins of the ancient Decapolis city (once called Gadara), situated on a hilltop, overlooking the Israeli occupied Golan Heights, Syria and Lake Tiberias (a.k.a. Sea of Galilee)in Israel, were a great place to spend some lazy afternoons in the sun eating spicy olives, drinking fresh lemon juice with mint, watching the sun set behind the plateau and being fascinated by the local 'pilgrims', mostly of Palestinian descent, coming here in the late afternoon to catch a glimpse of their former homeland. And Umm Qais itself? With buying ingredients for our homemade salad with labneh (cream-cheese dip), resulting in free 'life' (after having insisted that we really really really just needed one piece), free samples of local fruits and lots of 'Welcome to Jordans', we immediately felt at home. So we decided to make Umm Qaisour base from which to explore the region around it the day after as well. From Umm Qais we drove through the lush green Jordan Valley along the Israeli border, passing numerous 'check'- points with bored police officers not checking anything just wishing us a hearty 'Welcome to Jordan', to the famous ruins of Jerash. The plan was to arrive in Jerash very early at least before the tourist busses would arrive. Unfortunately, on the one hand, the road to Jerash took a few hours longer than we planned. Fortunately, on the other hand, instead of arriving early we drove through some beautiful countryside and along the way we had the chance to do something in return for the friendly locals (including a policeofficer) by giving them a ride to their home villages. Finally arriving in Jerash was a little disappointing at first sight as it was packed with tourists and tourbusses and the ruins of the ancient Roman town of Gerasa are located in the middle of the modern town of Jerash. Not really what we had in our minds. After satisfying the need to have a chitchat with the officials because of their attitude and the highly awkward location to purchase tickets, followed by an energy- wasting and useless walk back all the way to the well- hidden ticket booth, just to get tickets which are not even being checked, we finally entered the site. And it was beautiful. Although stones are stones, the stones at Jerash were kind of fascinating and well- preserved. It was not too hard to imagine how the city looked in Roman times. Just erase the loads of tourists and locals with badminton rackets and there you go...

Our afternoon hiking plans in the Ajloun Nature Reserve, close to Jerash, also ended differently than intented because of the fact that we forgot that it's friday (the Muslim equivalent of Sunday). That meant that literally every free tree in the Reserve was occupied by a Jordanian family each having their car, sofa (often more than one), BBQ, nargileh, teapots and pans with them. Everything for a shady forest picknick. As we came here for some peace and quiet, we decided to skip Ajloun Nature Reserve. Our search for some silence and solitude ended at the local kebab eatery in Ajloun. However, the peace was shortlived ... The volume of the TV, showing the Haj in Mecca 'live on air' accompanied by the hypnotizing sounds of the imam reciting Qur' an texts, was turned up to the max, with the connected ceiling speakers making us almost feel like actually being in Mecca... Today no peace and quiet. Insha' Allah!

Leaving Umm Qais with sentiments we headed south, along the Jordan Valley, to the town of Madaba. Madaba is a unique town in Jordan as one- third of the population is Christian and two- third is Muslim. On the surface they seem to live together peacefully for centuries already. But based on our 'quick scan' of Madaba, 'living together' may better be replaced by 'ignoring eachother'... Though Madaba will not be our favorite town it was a good next home for a couple of days as it had some nice affordable hotels which are virtually non- existent elsewhere in Jordan, its good location close to the Dead Sea and, because of its good share of Christians, there is beer! Good old Jordanian brewed Amstel beer... According to the shop attendant in the Jordanion version of the 'off- licence' shop, 'Everybody in Jordan drinks beer. Muslim not muslim. No matter...' But Madaba is foremost famous for being the city of mosaics. The famous mosaic map on the floor of the St. George's Church is nice, but for the rest Madaba has nothing to offer. At least not for us... However, holy Mount Nebo, just 10 km from Madaba, was a nice afternoon side trip. Mount Nebo was the place where Moses is said to have seen the Promised Land, a land that he himself was forbidden to enter. Unfortunately, the Moses Memorial Church was being renovated and the extremely hazy weather was not really cooperating to let us enjoy the grand views of the Dead Sea, Jericho, Ramallah, Jerusalem (just 46 km away!) and the Jordan River. The next day however things all cleared up and we sat on the foot of Mt. Nebo watching a fabulous sunset over a moon-like landscape.

From Madaba we day-tripped to Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan (Al- Maghtas), the place where Jesus was baptised by John the Baptist. As it was not allowed to visit the Baptism spot by ourselves, which is not that strange when you realize that Jordan is just separated from Israel here by the 4 meter wide Jordan River which functions as a natural border, a safari- like tour was included. Although the biblical overdose, or maybe the lack of knowledge, making Marco sceptical, it was a special place surrounded by some mysticism. Around the Baptism spot itself churches from all world- religions are being build as a symbol for religious tolerance. An elegant gesture, but we are afraid that buildings won't do the thing...

From Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan the Dead Sea Highway lead us to the Dead Sea where we celebrated Lina's 30th birthday in the Dead Sea Spa Hotel with a rejuvenation treatment consisting of applying healthy black mud on each other's bodies, then baking in the burning sun like pottery until you feel your skin could break like china, and then rinsing everything off in the salty water of the Dead Sea. Having repeated this ritual 3 times, our skin will stay wrinckle- free forever...

Between treatments there was time to just float around in the water (sinking is not possible with salinity levels being 9 times higher than a 'normal' sea), reading a magazine and do nothing but enjoy the sun, the sea and each other.

From the Dead Sea we drove to the town of Karak, on our way down to the ancient city of Petra. Arriving in Karak, being all covered in a yellow haze, was a little surreal. Again. It looked as if a sandstorm had covered the city in yellow dust, but then without dust... An evening walk through the town center made things even more 'interesting'as we witnessed the sexual frustration (or curiosity) of Karak's youth: touching titties

, and then running away, seemed to be the highest achievable goal... But hey, it's not that strange if you imagine that most women here wear body-covering chadors hiding all the contours of the female body... After spending the night in Karak, and having visited Al- Karak castle early in the morning, we continued our way south to Wadi Musa, the village that has sprung up around Petra.

Petra, the red-rose city, a well- hyped worldclass attraction and one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. As the area is huge and we didn't want to rush through the city, we bought a 3-day ticket for the steepentrancefeeof 43 JD per person (1 JD » 1 Euro). This was far more economical than a one day entrance ticket which costs 33 JD. With prices even doubling next November we were kind of shocked and lucky at the same time. For once: right time right place.... A little sceptical about where all the fuzz is about we started our way through the 1,2 km long Al- Siq, a steep-walled canyonlike passageway into the city, very early in the morning when most people were still asleep. At the end of the Siq the Treasury (Al- Khazna) appears. It is impressive (and picturesque) especially because of the fact that it was built somewhere between 600 and 100 BC by the Nabataeans, however the impact was less intense than we hoped for. Is it because of the hype? Or maybe the extensive media attention? Or just because basically everyone says it's 'awesome'...? After being lucky enough to take some tourist- free pictures, we started our hike & scramble up to Al- Madhbah, the High Place of Sacrifice, from where we left the beaten track and continued our Indiana Jones adventure to a more or less hidden place. Reaching the spot, after a true navigational challenge, felt like a victory and the views of the Treasury from high above were the best imaginable reward. So we did not leave this place for the next few hours... Another highlight from Petra was Al- Deir (Monastery). The walk to this huge building, which was even bigger than the Treasury but less refined, was challenging. Not in the last place because of the big groups of old(er) people for whom it is actually too heavy and too hot to make the climb out there in the middle of the day, but also because of the many donkeys and their drivers recklessly running up and down the stairs. However, arriving at Al- Deir and finding another quiet place from where we could absorb the surroundings consisting of canyons and the fertile Wadi Araba from a distance, read our book 'The art of Travel' by Alain de Botton and watch the sun set over Petra giving the monastery a softtone ochre yellow colour, made it all worth it. The attraction of Petra is not only the Treasury and the Monastery, but the collection of hidden tombs, garden tricliniums, a theatre, etc all gathered in one ancient city. Off- the- beaten track Petra reveals its true beauty. Hiking and scrambling around the many 'jabals' (hills), finding a peaceful spot for yourself without anyone in sight and finding the peace to take in the surroundings was for us the most rewarding way to experience Petra. And Wadi Musa... there is nothing more to say about Wadi Musa than that it is functional, expensive and extremely touristic. But even here the friendly Jordanians offer us free rides up (and down) to and from the center of the village. Jordanians would definitely win the price for most friendly and hospitable people we met during our trip.

Although we initially planned to go to the desert at Wadi Rum after Petra, the fact that it was so expensive and the desert experience was so not authentic with so-called traditional Bedouin camps even being equipped with swimming pools

, we decided to skip Wadi Rum and head straight further south to Aqaba on the Red Sea. With a busdriver scared to leave Wadi Musa leaving passengers behind we left the village three times and came back three times, before finally heading for the Desert Highway to Aqaba. After leaving the mountains around Wadi Musa behind us we apparently crossed another climate zone with temperatures approaching the 45 degrees Celsius. Probably it can not get any hotter than this ... After spending two days in the town of Aqaba proper being fascinated by the Muslim(public)beach- culture with fully dressed women going for a swim, with sheiks smoking their nargileh and 'tourist camels' completing the picture, we moved to the luxurious Radisson Blu Tala Bay resort,south of Aqaba just 5 km from the Saudi Arabian border, where we spent our last week (and money) away from it all. Just doing nothing. No worries whatsoever. All we did was editing the mental motion picture of all the experiences of our trip, our year, so that we can download it on our own mental harddisk, save it as 'The Big Trip' and watch it again, again and again...

On the 27th of May, Royal Jordanian and British Airways will have the honour to fly us home. From Amman we will fly to London and then, if the announced strike of BA cabin staff is not taking place

, continue to Amsterdam where we are supposed to land at 22.00h local time. With touching Dutch ground a fantastic year has come to an end. A fact hard to realize and accept but at the same time it feels good to go back home. Home sweet home.

We hope to see you all very soon!

Nepal: for your senses only

Namaste! Like Japan and China, Nepal was also not on our initial wishlist, but the fact that the visa procedure for India (our original plan) was too complicated and time- consuming, made us decide to go to Nepal, hoping to find our 'touch of India' there...

With Air China we flew from Tokyo to Beijing, then from Beijing to New Delhi (India). Arriving in New Delhi at 1.40 a.m. we had to wait for our so-called 'connecting' flight to Kathmandu (Nepal) 10 hours later. The waiting in New Delhi in a kind of neutral zone (we did not have an Indian transit visa...), in a refugee camp setting was a bit frustrating... especially when you know that Kathmandu is just 1 hour away

... Being a little shocked at first sight by the huge amounts of tourists boarding the various flights to Nepal, we could not suppress some feelings of disappointment (was this the right choice?), but we decided to make the best out of it anyway. Being stubborn travellers we know how and where to beat the crowds and create our own unique adventure ...

Arriving at sleepy Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu was a pretty straightforward and easygoing affair: fill in the necessary paperwork, add a photo, pay 40 US Dollar each and get a 30- day Visa-on-arrival (including issuing service with a smile). Easy. But then... the contrast with Japan could not have been bigger... If Japan was sterile and plastic then Nepal is contaminated and driftwood. Man, we thought that Myanmar was poor, but Nepal seems to be the 'king of poverty' ... But despite this Kathmandu is a mindblowing city with a unique colourpalet made up from the local women's brightcoloured saris contrasting with the warm brown/ terracotta- coloured bricks of the traditional Newari- style buildings on Durbar Square and a persistent surreal pink haze giving the city an almost softtone velvet appearance. Our days in Kathmandu existed pretty much of just strolling around Durbar Square and hanging on top of the plenty of 'watch-the-world-go-by'- temples like the famous Maju Deval- temple, being amazed by the hardcore porn wood carvings on some of the Hindu temples, eating delicious curries and drinking ice-cold Everest beers on the roof terrace of our guesthouse in downtown Kathmandu, deliberately losing our way in the labyrinth of narrow streets of the Bishal Bazaar, around Asan Tole and Indra Chowk, running away from Kathmandu's tourist district Thamel evoking bad memories of Bangkok's Khao San Road, trying to get some daytime sleep as the haunting sounds of nightly gangs of stray dogs running through the streets kept us systematically awake at night, trying not to be overrun by the buzzing traffic consisting of millions of omnipresent motorbikes, masses of people and the occasional holy cow, watching the monkey 'show' at the Swayambunath Temple, and most of all: just watching the fascinating mix of people, including the local women walking through the streets with plates filled with goodies for their early morning 'puja' ritual (offering to the gods), the tradespeople trying to sell their pashmina shawls and saris at Indra Chowk, the colourful marketpeople in Lagan Square selling 'fresh' fruits and vegetables, the 'man with the sewing machine' on every streetcorner giving clothes a twentysecond, -third or -fourth life, the old women at Pottery Square collecting hay to fuel the open-air stove for baking handmade ceramics (with the men as spectators) and not to forget the Western weirdos in Freak Street who smoked too much or had too many magic mushrooms (just guess how Freak Street got its name

).... All are the inhabitants of this vibrant, colourful and exhausting but impressive city. After having soaked in the Nepali urban atmosphere, we moved just a few kilometers further into the Kathmandu Valley, to Bodhnath.

Hidden behind a busy thoroughfare there is the Bodhnath stupa. A big surprise. This huge white stupa with its golden spire and lively Buddha's eyes following the crowds of worshippers mostly consisting of Tibetan refugees, Buddhist monks and foreign dharma students (Western wannabee buddhists) on their 'parikrama' (ceremonial circuit) circumambulating the stupa in a clockwise direction. Not once, not twice. Endlessly. Beggars (ab)using the spiritual environment complete the scene. No Hindus here. And the worshippers are dedicated; old women prostrating themselves full- length on the ground, prayer wheels are being spinned, mantras being chanted, butter lamps being lighted... Everyone is doing his or her thing just for one purpose: to escape from the cycle of life, death and rebirth and achieve final 'moksha' (release) from this cycle. Impressive to witness this dedication to the divine, however for us it makes clear that any form of religious extremism even in its so-called innocent forms is kind of intimidating ... Although Bodhnath was very close to Kathmandu, and we could have day-tripped from there, is was worth spending a couple of nights here as it gave us the chance to experience the place before and after the tourist groups had come or left. And it was worth the experience. In the evening Bodhnath comes even more to life. Thousands of worshippers gather in the large round square with the stupa in the centre of it all, walking their afternoon ritual walk around the stupa. And then silence. Nepal is definitely an early-to-bed- country, meaning that 9 p.m. is a normal bedtime, probably not in the last place because of the national electricity shortages (and the rather unlogical loading schedules) with lots of electricty in the daytime and almost none after dark. The power generators trying to fill the gaps unfortunately fail most of the time in their mission as Nepal is confronted with serious shortages of petrol and kerosene to keep them working

. The endless queus at the very few petrol stations around the country illustrate the fuel shortage problems more than obvious...

One day we hiked from Bodhnath through the countryside to the Pashupatinath Temple, one of the holiest Hindu temples in Nepal, located on the Bagmati River. The Pashupatinath temple is an extremely confusing place for non-Hindus like us with thousands of things going on simultaneously

. To make at least an attempt to get to grips with this highly complicated religion with its hardly understandable vast complex of gods or representations of Shiva, Vishnu and Krishna combined with ancient rituals and customs, and moreover to feel a little more comfortable in this pretty hostile environment, we hired a local guide who showed us around the complex. After having finished the private guided 'tour', it was our time to repeat the visit by ourselves and absorb it all in a lower gear. On the cremation ghats (stairs) on the banks of the holy Bagmati River human corpses are burnt in a very business- like way: dead bodies are wrapped in brightcoloured orange shrouds and laid out on the ghats until the feet of the corpse touch the holy water, then the body is carried to the cremation platform and finally cremated on a wooden pyre. After having burnt for about 3 hours all that remains are ashes. The ashes are thrown in the heavily polluted Bagmati River flowing through the complex. In the same river young kids are searching for money scanning every inch of it with their bare hands. On the other side of the cremation ghats local women are 'washing' clothes in the same polluted river. And a little further downstream that same river is used as a public toilet/ garbage dump. And that is just around the Bagmati riverbanks... In and around the temple buildings locals are hanging around watching the goings-on, the milk offerings to Shiva as it is his favourite drink ('Yoghi Yoghi' drink?) seem to continu non-stop, the sadhus (Holy Men or Baba), many of whom are in fact 'Money Baba', are just sitting there being weird trying to make some money with their weirdness (photo? 1 dollar!) and the monkeys putting on their own show trying to attract the attention of spectators being obsessed with the cremation rituals (look at me, man! I can walk on 2 feet! I'm much more fun than dead people! ). Our visit to the fascinating Pashupatinath Temple was an unforgettable one. Especially the cremation ceremony made a deep impact. Death on public display is on the one hand a beautiful thing, but still it is an uncomfortable experience to be part of (whether you want it or not) a cremation in the open air with daily life around it going on like nothing happened. The proverb of 'one man's meat is another man's poison' was never more applicable than at Pashupatinath Temple.

From Bodhnath we moved deeper into the Kathmandu Valley to the town of Bhaktapur ('City of Devotees'), one of the three medieval city-states in the Kathmandu Valley. The rural character of Bhaktapur and its traffic- free streets were a relief after the extremely hectic urban chaos of Greater Kathmandu. The 3 main squares of Durbar Square, Taumadhi Tole and Tachupal Tole interconnected by narrow streets are epic, with daily life going on like centuries ago, with locals washing clothes (and themselves) outside their homes, socialising and collecting water from the many ancient watertanks and bassins scattered around town, sometimes with a mobile phone in the one hand and a bucket of water in the other hand (21st centrury meets 19th century at its best!), the colourful markets in the backstreets where no tourists dare to come, where people are getting more friendly the further you get off the beaten track, the many temples in the streets including the small 'erotic elephant temple' showing the animal version of the Kama Sutra (we can only dream about being as athletic as these big boys and girls...)... These ingredients made Bhaktapur a kind of hot Nepali curry: fired up, colourful and a sensation for the senses. Like enjoying a good curry Bhaktapur had not to be rushed but taken in on a leisurely speed just by sitting on the many temples watching daily life pass by...

And then, again, whoohoo, New Year.! This time: Nepali New Year... The Bisket Jatra festival in Bhaktapur marks the beginning of the New Year's celebrations on the 10th of April, the day before entering the year 2067. In the evening a huge chariot with Betal, Bhairab's sidekick (Bhairab is the fearsome incarnation of Shiva) being attached on the chariot like a ship's figurehead, is pushed around the enormous crowds of people around Taumadhi Tole and Khalna Tole. At first sight a rather useless ritual, but this is local tradition ... Sending fireworks into the big void is at least equally useless. So who are we to say something... Watching the crowds going mad, we were warned that things could get seriously out of hand after the pulling. Why? Because it has been violent every year. No further questions asked...

First day of the year 2067. I got sick. Really sick. A rebellious bacteria ruined the fun we had so far. Fortunately Lina ate something different the day before, so she was ok. After 2 days laying on bed, spending hours on the toilet, throwing up, sleeping, we managed to move from our 6 m2 room in Bhaktapur to Patan (a suburb of Kathmandu) to a luxury hotel with bathtub and tv, just to make it easier to kill time, focus on recovery and cancel the enemy. After another 2 days continuing without improvements the antibiotics had to do their thing ... Being tired from hanging in Patan, we (again) managed to move and survive a 7 hour minibus-ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara, hoping that it would be a better place to recover fully as it is more geared up for tourists ... And after a small week strenghts and structure slowly returned. Not having had a decent meal for about a week, and the physical condition dropped below zero, we initially did not feel strong enough to go for an overnight trekking through the Himalayan mountain range very close to Pokhara. But things changed rapidly. Being up to strength sufficiently (a half day hike to the World Peace Pagoda above Phewa Tal made that clear) and having consulted a number of trekking agencies, we decided to give it a shot and go for a 5- day overnight tea-house trekking. Something we didn't even dare to think about a few days ago. And off we went... The route in the Annapurna Conservation Area, with the Himalayan mountain range as its decor, taking us through fairytale pathways with a landscape alternating between bright coloured pink, red and purple rhododendron forests, magical green fluorescent moss- covered ancient trees, ending on the grass- covered mountaintop at the Mardi Himal High Camp (3500m), was breathtaking. En route staying in local mountain villages (max. 3 houses), with local families providing a shelter for the night (nothing more or less), eating our daily trekkers' meal consisting of homemade 'dal bhaat' (lentils with rice and curried vegetables) and lots of milktea, experiencing real village-life in action as things heat up because of booze and marihuana and being in the warm company of half a zoo's population, made this trek unforgettable. But the real highlight was still to come... After spending an evening with thunder and lighting complemented with the sound of avalanches higher up in the mountains and having survived a freezing night at the High Camp, the bad weather cleared up... The next morning sunrise at 5.00 a.m. was one of the most magical moments ever: a blue sky with the sun first highlighting the top of the Annapurna South (7200m), and with the sun rising every minute and the light constantly changing, the sacred Machhapuchhare (a.k.a. the Fishtail; 7000m) and Mardi Himal (5600m) also arose from the darkness ... literally the undoubted highlight of our trek! After one and a half day hiking downwards and a bumpy jeepride through a rough mountainous landscape, crossing rivers, we arrived back in Pokhara. A good pizza and a few bottles of beer were our well- deserved rewards ... Our last day in Pokhara we spent floating on Phewa Tal in a rowing boat taking in another magnificent sunset (and some more beers...) from the sparkling waters of the lake. Not a bad way to chill out after a challenging trekking...

On our way back to Kathmandu, we stopped in the village of Bandipur, roughly halfway Pokhara and Kathmandu. From Dumre a jeep packed with about 15 people (even when you think there is no space left, there is still space to pack some more people, be it on the roof or just hanging outside the car...) took us all the way up. This lovely little village, draped like a scarf around the mountains, was the perfect place to chill out reading a book on Gurungche Hill, looking back on what we saw and experienced up to now, imagining what there is still to come and ... finding ways to deal with the reality shock which is slowly kicking in as the end of our trip is now approaching rapidly ...

Time to continue our way back to the Kathmandu Valley. After a busride from hell (it doesn't matter that the breaks don't work as long as the horn is ok...) on the Prithvy 'Highway', we arrived in Kathmandu from where a short taxiride brought us to Patan. As we were here before, but saw nothing more than our hotelroom, this meant a second chance for Patan. The fact that Patan has an upbeat feel and is by far the most cosmopolitan part of Greater Kathmandu, does not mean that it is exempted from the frequent Maoist- stikes and protests (the communist Maoists are the biggest political party in Nepal) that completely paralyse all of Nepal. It seems to be a part of daily life in contemporary Nepal that schools are being spontaneously closed, that roads are being blocked, that shops and offices are ordered to close, etc. Although the more or less fancy shopping streets, 'trendy' expat bars and its more 'high caste' looking population, were a relief after the poverty we saw around Nepal, Patan's real draw is Durbar Square which is said to be Nepal's best preserved square with Newari- style architecture. And beautiful as it is, we enjoyed just hanging around on the many temples, sometimes used as a reallife cinema and sometimes as a shelter for some serious 'cats-and-dogs' rainshowers. And the guidebooks said it should not be raining until May. That means 2 days too early

... With ending our Nepal adventure in Patan another 28 days passed by in a wink...

Nepal, our touch of India, but probably even better... A unique combination of colours that go beyond the world of Photoshop hard to be processed by our eyes, smells that sometimes tease and often torture your nose, landscapes that literally take your breath away and extremely high temperatures and humidity making your body work in overdrive. No other conclusion justified about Nepal: for your senses only.

Memoirs of a gaijin

25 days to peel the layers of an onion called Japan.... At first sight Japan is getting the closest to home from the countries we visited so far, but strangely enough at the same time it feels very far away. The more time we spent in this country the more a 'gaijin' (stranger) we felt. One moment you think that you have pelt off the first layer(s) of the onion and you think this 'gaijin'- talk is crap, the next moment it turns out to be a tough onion to peel....

Arriving by boat after a 36 hour bumpy ferry trip from Qingdao (China) in the port city of Shimonoseki accompanied by a snowstorm was not really a dreamstart in Japan, but the warm and friendly welcome by the curious border guards (who wanted wanted to know the origen of all the stamps collected in our passports...) made things more bearable. At Shimonoseki railway station we handed in our 'exchange orders' that we bought in Beijing (you have to buy these things outside Japan, duh....) and after getting our JR Railpasses, which enabled us to use the Japan Railways (JR) trains almost without limitations, we were set to go.

Our first ride with the Hikari Shinkansen bullet train brought us to the city of Hiroshima. And travelling by train in Japan feels like home. Even better. Travelling with JR is nerve-soothing, almost relaxing. Everything is smoothly organized, departures are on time, the trains are clean, seats can be turned in either direction (for those who cannot drive backwards...), people are quiet and polite, there is a special 'phone'- wagon, seats can be reserved free of charge at the 'midori-no-madoguchi', everything is clearly signposted both in Japanese and Roman script, even ladies have a 'ladies only' entrance at certain times of the day. There is no 'Lost in Translation'- like feel about Japan yet...

And then Hiroshima. The snowstorms have stopped. Of course Hiroshima means only one thing: the nuclear attack by the US Air Force on the 6th of august 1945. Honestly, we didn't know what to expect, but walking around in Peace Memorial Park, built right at the hypocenter, made a huge impact. It even made us contemplate about world peace which is something that we don't do that often in daily life... It was impressive to have a face-to-face encounter with the A- bomb Dome, one of the very few buildings that survived the attack and now a monument for world peace and to visit the Peace Memorial Museum. Although we are not really museum- freaks this museum literally gives you the shivers, not because it is such a 'wow'- museum, but mainly because of the fact that you are right at the spot where the cynically nicknamed 'Little Boy' hit and made about 200.000 victims. The impact and effects are visualized in a pretty confronting way leaving not too much to your imagination... But despite its gruelling past, present Hiroshima is an ultramodern city with an optimistic vibe. The city is so clean, so perfect, so plastic... unreal almost. It feels like walking in a maquette-world: the toy-like trees (they are just too perfectly shaped and coloured), the extremely clean streets (there is not even a small piece of paper on the pavement), the miniature soundless shining boxes-on-wheels with names like Daihatsu and Suzuki (they look like they are being cleaned on a daily basis), the fact that buildings do not show any signs of neglect whatsoever (each and every building is well- maintained so that it looks brandnew) and the fact that it's simply not busy enough for a city with 1,2 million inhabitants... However, the friendly grandpa stopping his car to give us his city map without words, a man on a bicycle showing us the way (in Japanese though) and the elementary schoolchildren in Peace Memorial Park practicing their english language skills asking us to fold origami crane birds together with them as a symbol for world peace, made that sterile Hiroshima has a heart and a soul. Again shivers...

Deeply impressed by our first encounter with Japan's present and pretty recent past, we went to the island of Miyajima just off the coast of Hiroshima. Although labeled as one of Japan's 'top-three scenic spots' and being a holy island it was just not sacred enough not to build a cable car to the top of Mount Misen...hey, this is Japan

.... The National Treasures, the wild deer, seen as messengers of the gods in pre-buddhist times, are still running around the island begging for food (or paper...) and of course posing for photos with the local tourists (peace...). But Miyajima has more treasures. The vermillion coloured O-Torii Gate which seems to be floating on the water at high tide giving us one of the most beautiful sunsets ever, the Itsukushima Shrine which protected the island in the old days which is a sublime piece of architecture demonstrating how minimalistic temples can be, the plenty small Shinto shrines hidden in the mountains, the little Jizo Bosatsu (small Buddhist monk sculptures) at Daisho-in Temple wearing red bibs as they are 'adopted' and taken care off by parents who lost their child. Moreover, eating grilled oysters in soy sauce as a snack with a good Kirin beer, eating sushi on the beach watching the sun go down behind the mountains on the mainland, hiking through pristine mountain forests all the way to the top of holy Mt. Misen (no cable car for us this time...) were great ways to experience the Japan of our imagination.

After a 10-minute ferry trip to Miyajima-guchi (finally, the last one after 6 previous rides to get something to eat...) and a local trainride back to Hiroshima station, another Shinkansen-ride took us to Kyoto. Kyoto is another place where you hope to see the Japan of your imagination. But finding this is hard. Kyoto is a puzzle. The ultramodern train station is an overwhelming and confusing maze of shopping malls, sub-trainstations for Shinkansen trains, JR Trains, Kintetsu trains, trains, trains, trains.... The modern uninspiring downtown area with the huge Kyoto Tower as a landmark is also not what you expect to find in an ancient city. But between the big grid-lined streets there is a world which still shows samples of the old Japan: Narrow streets with wooden houses, small streams gently flowing through the neighbourhoods, Zen complexes like the Daitoku-ji Temple and the Myoshinji temple which are separate worlds within the city, the (really) golden Kinkakuji Temple and (not so) silver Ginkaku-ji Temple, the beautiful but incomprensible Zen gardens of Nanzenji and Ginkakuji Temple with apparently randomly positioned stones representing heaven and earth or mountain and lake (this is truly abstract...

), the inspiring Tetsugaku-no-michi (Path of Philosophy), the fairytale bamboo forest of Arashiyama, the first hanami (cherry blossom viewing) opportunities in the Imperial Palace park, ... and of course: Gion, the neighbourhood of neighbourhoods. Being the entertainment district of Kyoto, Gion has dozens of 'clubs' housed in traditional wooden buildings and behind the dark wooden facades there is a mysterious and elusive geisha- world taking place. You cannot even catch a glimpse of what is going on there... But sometimes, if you are very lucky, you can spot a geisha in the backstreets of Gion. And we were lucky... Although the young lady was not a geisha yet, but a 'maiko' (an apprentice geisha), catching the eyes of this beautiful and utterly elegant fragile white-faced lady posing with her typical umbrella and smiling in a very 'geisha'- like shy way, was a once-in-a-lifetime- experience which cannot be described with words. But that mental picture will never blur...

From Kyoto a 1,5 hour local ('futsu') trainride took us to our next destination. Nara. Although the good thing about Nara is its small size, we have to admit that we are getting seriously spoilt... Although the Todai-ji Temple with its Daibutsu-den Hall, still being the world's largest wooden structure, with a huge 16m high Buddha inside and the Kasuga Taisha shrine with its winding lanes lined with stone lanterns all covered in bright coloured moss, are pretty impressive, the other temples in Nara-koen are getting more or less anonymous... The old Naramachi- district though with its old machiya trades houses was a good cure for our temple- overdose. And as the weather was great, spending our lazy afternoons in the park with a beer and a book was not bad at all. No hard feelings about coming to Nara...

Next stop. Takayama. Looking outside the panorama windows of the Limited Express train from Nagoya to Takayama, with the landscape increasingly becoming more mountainous but still industrialized and urbanized, riding along the wild Hida-gawa River, with the weather changing Shinkansen-speed from sunny to rainy ending with snow in Takayama... Was it a mistake to make a detour all the way to here? Yes and no. After Kyoto and Nara, this small city has nothing distinctive to add except its laidback vibe, its gorgeous wooden designer furniture which made us prattle and its worldfamous Sake. In contrast to Nara, with the weather Gods not being on our side, Sake was our saviour ...

Five different trains starting with the panoramic Limited Express train from Takayama to Nagoya, followed by a shinkansen-ride from Nagoya to Shin- Yokohama, then a local metro-like ride on the JR Yokohama Line to Hachioji, next the express train from Hachioji to Otsuki and last but not least the annoyingly slow Fujikyu Express brought us to our destination Kawaguchi-Ko, a small town in the Fuji-Go-Ko (5 lakes) region very close to Mount Fuji (3776m). And in Kawaguchi-Ko it rained, it rained a lot, and it rained for 2 days non-stop, making Mt. Fuji disappear in the clouds and we could only hope that it is truly there... And these are the days that we realized what we missed in Japan.... Ultimate freedom. In a country where it's all about 'introduction' and surprises are not appreciated, all accomodation (at least the more or less affordable ones) had to be booked in advance which certainly limited our freedom to go where- ever, whenever we wanted... So we had to wait. And fortunately the waiting was rewarded. The last day of our stay in Kawaguchi-Ko the sun was fighting with the clouds and it won... Mt. Fuji revealed itself and it was gorgeous to see this snowtopped perfectly cone-shaped shy mountain. Although the 'breast' was visible the 'nipple' was too shy to show itself and remained hidden in the clouds, until sunset... the sunset was magical with Fuji-San's 'nipple' appropriately illuminated delicately by the soft-tone orange colour of the setting sun. And it was well worth waiting for this (kind of sexy) moment....

And then our last stop in Japan. Tokyo. After 3 weeks living in traditional ryokans, which means sleeping on futons on tatami mat floors and rooms with sliding rice-paper doors, no furniture whatsoever, using common Japanese baths, wearing our yukata (bathrobe) and being devoid of 'normal' modern facilities like internet (is this Japan?), we were happy that our hotel in Tokyo had a bed, a real bed and a private bathroom...

Tokyo. The Eastern Capital. Formerly known as Edo. A city of villages. A world on its own. Tokyo makes up for a 'sensory overload'. There are just too many stimuli for our brains to handle... The 'sakariba' (party)- area of Shibuya with its worldfamous pedestrian crossing supposedly being one of the busiest in the world, its Love Hotel Hill with kinky theme hotels and rates by-the-hour and its shops like Tokyu Hands and Loft selling stuff of which you never knew you missed it. Then there is Harajuku with the 'Goth- Lollies' a.k.a. 'Cosplay- zoku' (costume play gangs) performing on sundays on the Jingi- Bashi for their 'one-minute-of-fame' before returning to their daily (often not so easy) life in the suburbs, with Tokyo's popculture in maximum overdrive on Omote- Sando Avenue and Takeshita- Dori with e-n-o-u-r-m-o-u-s numbers of mainly young people, with Elvis look-alikes shaking things up in Yoyogi Park with their rock 'n roll moves

... The contrast with the peaceful Meiji Jingu Shrine in the park could not be bigger. Asakusa with its kitchenware-streets around the Kappabashi Dori where plastic food samples are filling the shopwindows, its overly crowded Senso- Ji temple and its beautiful cherry- blossom trees on the banks of the Sumida River, giving Tokyo even a vintage and bohemian flavour. Connected to Asakusa is Ueno being the home of Ueno- Koen, a huge park with great cherry blossom viewing opportunities, with groups of Japanese seated on plastic canvasses (without shoes with 10 degrees outside) celebrating their 'hanami' (blossom viewing parties) which most of the time involves some serious coma- drinking with tetra-packs of Sake. And this is just an average monday afternoon... Having that said, there is Kanda, a part of the city with some specialized neighbourhoods. There is Akihabara, the so- called 'Electric Town', considered to be the capital of the nerd- universe with its numerous games entertainment halls (SEGA- halls), its electronic devices shops, Manga-shops and 'maid- cafes'. This in contrast to the more intellectual Jimbocho neighbourhood which is specialized in (second hand) books and hence attracts other kinds of nerds... The area around Tokyo Station should have reminded us of home, as the station is a replica of Amsterdam CS. Unfortunately the station was completely covered under a huge plastic tent due to renovation works. Everything in Tokyo evoking nostalgic feelings seems to be eliminated systematically.... Also adding to the 'alienation'- factor which grew considerably the last couple of days being in Tokyo was the somewhat disappointing visit to the Tokyo Stock Exchange, which was just too quiet to be the center of the Asian financial universe (did the crisis hit Japan that hard?). After another day in Tokyo full of confusion, amazement and contradictions the gorgeous Kitanomaru- Koen and East Palace Gardens of the Imperial Palace made excellent places to cool down. After having survived Tokyo's many many many shopping temptations, Ginza (5th Ave of Tokyo) was the final test and it was a tough one.... But we managed pretty well, without too much financial damage..... Besides shopping Ginza is home to the Sony Building which opens a window to the future with the next generation of televisions (3- dimensional), prototypes of new products and gadgets. All free to try. How not to lose your head.... Around the corner of the fancy Ginza district the world's biggest fish market, Tsukiji, made us having to deal with other forms of temptations. Although the collection of (mainly) dead fish, sometimes huge ones being cut with an automated saw, swimming in blood, was not that hard to resist, the sushi-restaurants in the area were. And we could do nothing else then surrender to the gravitational pull and give in... and it was worth it. It was the best sushi we ever had and probably will have! And then...When you think you slowly have come to a state of mind which makes you more or less comfortable in Tokyo, accepting the fact that you truly are a 'stranger', there is Shinjuku. The (hard)core of Tokyo. This is Japan Inc. on speed . Shinjuku is go-go-go with the entertainment district (red light distict) of Kabukicho and Shinjuku Station with about 2 million people passing through on a daily basis, making it one of the world's busiest stations and probably also one of the most confusing (where are we? Where is the exit? O damn, there are maybe 30 exits..., how the hell to get out of this place?). And then there is the Nishi Shinjuku office district providing jobs for about 250.000 salarymen (hardly women...), who are crowding the streets like a homogenous group of 'black crows', like true 'slaves to the wage', with the futuristic Tokyo Metropolitan Government buildings, designed by Kenzo, providing a place to work. For us though it was a 'safe haven', a way to escape it all, and watch the world pass by below us from the 45th floor observation platform... Get the picture? This is Tokyo!

As there is not so much to see in Japan (don't get us wrong, but it's simply less exotic than e.g. Myanmar where mind-blowing surprises are on every streetcorner...), travelling in Japan requires a different mode. As it is not exactly a third world country or even a developing country, it's more about experiencing Japanese culture and exploring the, sometimes huge, differences with our own behavior. The Japanese have a certain uniqueness not to be seen elsewhere. That's for sure. You can think about them what you want, but at least they are consequent. In Japan they behave the same as abroad... They walk their special walks shuffling their feet without lifting them (are the X- legs and feet with the toes pointing to eachother genetically inherited or is it just a fashionable walk and why do they wear shoes at least 3 sizes too big?). They have an obsessive neurotic tendency to cover their nose and mouth area with masks even in the pristine forests filled with clean oxygen. Moreover, they all seem to have a certain degree of 'fear of stains' as doors of cars open (and close) automatically, money is not transferred from hand to hand, and so on... They are blessed (or cursed?) with a sometimes painful self- confidence making them wear the weirdest imaginable combinations of clothes and accessories. This extravaganza illustrates more than obvious the inner conflict between social cohesion on the one hand and a longing for individualism on the other hand going on in their minds (as is extremely obvious in the case Harajuku's 'Goth- Lollies'...). They are as patient as a meditating Buddhas waiting for the traffic lights as long as they have to, even when there is not a single car in sight. The bleeping, shiny Pachinko pinball games, slot machines, Taito 'grap-and-pick' Stations, Big Max entertainment halls and Manga comics being passionately read on the Tokyo Yamanote Line- trains, all providing infantile ways of entertainment for the Japanese making them go nuts in their own remarkable ways (and us too after trying our luck several times to take out a little Manga- monster at a Taito station...). How to align this with the fact that these are the same people who work off their asses, are the main responsible ones for the Japanese 'economic miracle' and are able to build 22nd century buildings like the Metropolitan Government Buildings and the 'Cocoon' in Tokyo? How to understand their devotion to the complicated religious cocktail made up from the ancient Shinto belief, the 'Way of the Gods', which is the religion of this life and this world on the one hand and Buddhism being the religion of the next life and the next world on the other hand? And, maybe most remarkable and least understandable .... the phones in Japan are always on the 'silent'- mode (no-one actually talks on the phone). However, everyone is playing with their phones, PSP, I-pods and other devices of which we don't even know what they are. It seems that chatting has taken over from talking. But...we thought (no, now we know) that the Japanese love to scream in Karaoke bars, they love the loud bleeping bleeps in the entertainment halls, they love noise... And what is it with this addiction to vending machines? These things, even present in the remotest parts of the country, ruining the landscape, but providing cold (and hot!) drinks for a few Yen for those who are thirsty. Only in Tokyo there are about 6 million of these machines, roughly meaning that there is one machine for every 3 people! Conclusion: If there is something like a national psyche, then the Japanese one is a complicated one, a very very complicated one...

Besides a unique 'national psyche' Japan has a unique cuisine as well (that makes sense...). Yep, the food. A sensitive subject. Probably our biggest frustration in Japan...

The worldfamous refined Japanese kitchen with an exquisite eye for detail and presentation made us suffer. Why? Because it's so f&*king expensive! A decent meal easily costs around 3000 Yen which equals approximately 20 Euro, often even excluding a 300 Yen 'seating charge'. As we have a tight budget we needed to find alternatives and resist the temptations to eat out every night and be 'big spenders'... the plastic food samples in the restaurant windows make you hungry and they even look eatable (are we desperate?)... But fortunately Japan has the 'bento'- box. These ready-to-go meals in nicely organised boxes, a pleasure for the eyes, can be bought in kiosks and convenience stores everywhere around the country. The typical bento box consists of some rice with sesame seeds, hijiki (seeweed) and some 'side dishes' like kamaboko (a sort of steamed fish-paste roll with a pink colour) and sometimes baked fish or meat. Of course we also tried various 'budget' meals mainly consisting of rice with some tempura prawns with egg accompanied by buckwheat noodles in Kyoto, or rice with Hida beef in Takayama, or microwave ika okonomiyaki (a sort of pancake/ omelet filled with vegetables and squid) in Kawaguchi-Ko, and an 'all-you-can-eat' currybuffet in Tokyo (very Japanese...). Not really exiting, but affordable and still typically Japanese (except the curry of course....). However, the typical Japanese breakfast at our ryokan (tradional Japanese inn) was a fiesta .. misoshiro (a brownish soup made from a mixture of stock, miso and shellfish), hot rice, tamagoyaki (sweet flavoured cold omelet), hijiki, spinach with peanuts and sesame and lots of tea. And eating tofu, another Japanese specialty, in a trendy small restaurant in Sunshine City (Tokyo) also was a tongue- melting delicacy... and not to forget the aforementioned nigiri sushi at Tokyo's Tsukiji fish market.

Speaking of food... did we peel the onion? Actually, we don't know.... yes and no. If the outer layers of the onion represent observable behaviour, the so-called 'tip of the iceberg' , then maybe 'yes'. We cannot deny that the Japanese have more in common with us then that there are differences. However, when it comes to a true understandig of Japanese values, norms and behaviour it is definitely a 'no'... And probably if you are not Japanese you will never get to understand it... Once a 'gaijin, always a 'gaijin'....

Sayonara! Next reporting from Nepal ...

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter! Su sv. Velykom! Vrolijk Pasen!

And you all are happy that spring begins? These chicken are already celebrating...

And now you know where we are.... We will put our next story on our blog soon...

Love from Tokyo

About noodles, recovery bins, warriors & more...

Hi!

And you all thought we would be in Cambodia now... However, being convinced that South East Asia will not get any better than Myanmar, we significantly changed our plans for the remaining time en route. So surprise surprise.... Ni hao from China!

Unfortunately the stereotypes are true. There seem to be no Chinese characters to express the word 'polite', but there seem to be plenty to express 'rudeness'. The Chinese like to spit just in front of your feet accompanied by the loudest grunts coming from deep inside. They like to smoke where ever they can (systematically ignoring the 'no- smoking' signs in public places). They like to stare at eachother peeing and pooing in the public toilets which is made very easy because toilets are not equipped with doors. They like nosepicking for which they let grow the nail of their little finger (which in fact symbolises 'richness'...). They like looking at you without any expression on their face, resembling zobies, like you are an alien and when you do the same they don't seem to understand and not able to mirror their own behaviour. They throw their garbage everywhere they possibly can, knowing that someone else will clean it after them (China's cities are pretty clean...). Besides some exceptions, the Chinese people are not the country's greatest assets. But there are enough fantastic things to tell about our trip through a tiny part of China.

From Bangkok we arrived in sweaty Guangzhou, also known as Canton, situated in the Southeastern province of Guangdong. This is as far Air Asia goes... Welcomed by unexpected chaos just outside the airport consisting of taxidrivers fighting for customers, we had to keep our heads cool. Finding a taxi that would take us to the city center for a reasonable price, meant some serious haggling, about 2 hours waiting and allowing taxidrivers to pluck the hairs on my arms.... But we finally made it to our hotel. Welcome to China!

Travelling in China turned out to be quite challenging. When our question 'Do you speak English?' was replied with 'I don't know', we knew immediately that we would not get anywhere without Chinese. Besides these language barriers, the ongoing Spring Festival, which are the most important holidays in China, is another complicating factor for travelling here. Just about 1,4 billion Chinese are travelling with us during this period.... We, being pretty naive, thought that we were better off just to go to the trainstation to buy tickets ourselves instead of asking the hotel to organize them (what's the use if don't understand you anyway?). But arriving at the trainstation in Guangzhou we were shocked! What is going on! Is there a bomb-alarm and is the station being evacuated? Or are workers on a strike? Man, hundreds of thousands of people were put behind fences, crowds strictly regulated by the police... and, after the shock was finally reduced to a 'normal' level and we slowly got to understand that this is business as usual, a friendly policeofficer helped us out to pursue tickets. Something we didn't know was that during the Spring Festival you need to have your ID with you to actually buy tickets.... So, in the end we went back to the hotel in total disillusion and without tickets... But we learned to only trust in ourself and the next day we tried another option. The bus. We went to one of the busstations in town and there we got our tickets without too much difficulties. From then on we didn't encounter any serious problems anymore getting from A to B. The secret is only to believe in yourself (and sometimes in Lonely Planet...)

By the way, the city of Guangzhou is nothing special. A huge (about 10 million inhabitants... ) typically modern and rather ugly city with the Shamian Island, the Yuexiu Park withthe impressive Zhenhai Tower, the Six Banyan Trees pagoda and being refused to eat at a local restaurant ('only rich and business') as highlights, we were not reluctant to leave Guangzhou.

From Guangzhou we were dropped in the early morning in the city of Yangshuo in the province of Guangxi, from where we took another bus to the village of Xingping. Arriving in Xingping in the early morning it is clear that we crossed some climate zones... it's f&@king freezing here... and we don't have any warm clothes except one sweater each... Apart from the search for a winterjacket (yes, it was close to zero degrees Celsius....) which was a little frustrating because of the Chinese sizes (and lovely models and colours) of the jackets, Xingping was one of the best places we visited on our trip so far. The village itself is an ancient township with old houses dating back to the Qing and Ming Dynasty and red lanterns are everywhere. This is how you imagine rural China to be. The countryside surrounding Xingping is spectacular. The higgly piggly limestone karst mountains, the Li River meandering its way through the fields, the orange tree orchards, the friendly monks of a mountain monastery in Shawan inviting us for dinner....

Our days here consisted of hiking and biking through the countryside. The 6 hour hike between Xingping and Yangdi, crossing the Li River several times and floating all the way back with a bamboo raft (which in fact was plastic....hey, we are in China...), was very spectacular. The foggy weather made the mountain peaks partly disappear which made things even more dramatic and impressive. This stretch of the Li River is worldfamous in China because it is depicted on the 20 Yuan banknotes, making it a popular stop with the Chinese tourists arriving in their golfcarts, taking a picture, and running (= sitting in the golfcart...) to the next designated hotspot.

After a day of hiking it was time for some leisurely biking to the second oldest stone bridge in China, the Dragon's Bridge. Together with Noam and Shany, our new Israeli friends, we took a bus to Yangshuo where we hired some bikes. And off we went... After a few kilometers we already were confused about directions (because of some local loser who wanted us to use a 'bamboo, bamboo') and even the Chinese just sent us in every imaginable (and opposing) direction. In the end we split up and got lost. A friendly 'local' mountainbiker, a guy named Zhuo, showed us the way to the Dragon's Bridge. You can't imagine how happy we were to see that bridge (... is this it?). After a reunion with our friends it was about time to head back to Yangshuo. Together with Zhuo and some other Chinese bikers who also didn't seem know the way, the way back was even worse. We didn't know that 'biking' in Chinese in fact means 'walking with a bike in your hand' .... But after some hours of Chinese 'biking', we finally reached Yangshuo. Tired to the bone, McDonald's never tasted better...

And again, Happy New Year! Happy Tiger Year! The 'highlight' of the Spring Festival, Chinese new year, at midnight on the 13th of February, was celebrated in a low-key village-like way, with some booze, 'jiaozi' (dumplings), Taki (the Israeli version of the cardgame Uno) and a lot of fireworks giving the village an almost warzone-like appearance. However, no parades with dragons whatsoever... We are still in Xingping....

Leaving Xingping with sentiments we moved on to the village of Dazhai. Dazhai is located in the middle of the Dragon's Backbone Rice Terraces, the world's largest. This masterpiece of agricultural architecture dates back to the Yuan dynasty (1271- 1368) and encompasses about 70 square kilometer with terraces rising up to a 1000m high. Wow! Although winter is not really the best season to visit the area, the contours of the terraces are still clearly visible. The magnificent half day hike from Dazhai to Ping' An was very spectacular. Being amongst the rice terraces somewhere high in the mountains, passing through traditional wooden villages, our heads in the clouds, not seeing any other people except some of the local Zhuang women with hair as long as toilet paper, breathtaking views from the platforms with poetic names like 'Music from Paradise', 'Golden Buddha Top' and 'Seven Stars accompanying the Moon' resembling abstract patterns, was simply enjoying to the max. Ending our hike in Ping' An however was a slight deception as the village is completely devoted to the Chinese 'how-to-see-as-much-as-possible-within-as-little-time-as-possible-without-burning-any-calories'- way of travelling. A parking place about 100 meters from the main viewpoint, imperial sedan chairs to let themself carry from the parking place to the viewpoint (and back)... and not to forget the numerous souvenir stalls along the way to the viewpoint to buy the standard shit. Man, we are happy that we stay in Dazhai!

In the city of Guilin, close to Dazhai, we bought some bustickets to Xi'an. After an afternoon sightseeing in Guilin we were 'kidnapped' by a man in black who guided us (and some other Chinese fellow travellers) to some small parking place outside the busstation where we were told to wait. And we waited... Some doom-thoughts crossed our minds... will Guilin really be the end? Nobody seemed to know what was next... But suddenly a bus appeared and opened its doors and we could take our beds in the luxury sleeperbus. Ready for the 22 hour busride to Xi'an. Everything started off fine. Although we knew we had to change buses somewhere (God knows where....) we slept ok until an unexpected visit of our 'friend', mr. D.Iarrhea spoilt the pleasure...

Early in the morning we were dumped in the not so inspiring city of Jingmen. Soon it became clear that 'changing to a connecting bus', in fact meant one day waiting in Jingmen and boarding the other bus late in the afternoon. The face of that bitch at the agency in Guilin, saying 'no train tickets, bus is faster...' will be haunting us for a long time. In a shitty condition we had to kill a day in Jingmen where we seemed to be the first 'white meat' people had ever seen. Tired and a little stressed we waited and waited and finally we boarded the 'connecting' sleeperbus to Xi'an. Although the trip was horrible our hotel in Xi'an was a great place to arrive after such a journey. A good night sleep and some Western food to soothe the stomach gave the world back its colours...

Xi'an in the Eastern province of Shanxi is a great city. The sun was shining, the temperature was pleasant and the smog was breathtaking. The 8 traffic wards on every streetcrossing shadowing the traffic lights (yes, also in China the traffic lights are showing the universal colours green, orange and red but apparently without any meaning), undisturbedly keep on carrying out their useless duties. In contrast to this well-organized chaos, the huge kitschy fountain show at Big Goose Square measuring about a soccer field, is extremely well organised and harmonious. Very Zen actually.... Yep, no doubt, we are still in China.

Xi'an was the terminus of the Silk Road and you can still see and feel its roots, especially in the Muslim Quarter with its narrow lanes with exotic food being sold everywhere. The Hui people (Chinese muslims) in this quarter look different from the rest of the city's inhabitants, the atmosphere is more of the Middle East than China and the architecture is a mixture of Chinese and Islamic styles with mosques looking like Chinese temples. Besides the Muslim Quarter, the ancient city walls, arguably the best preserved in China that are still standing, were built in 1370 during the Ming dynasty. On a leisurely afternoon we walked the 14 km long walls, enjoying the different faces of the city. With one foot Xi'an is still in the past with its old temples, narrow lanes of the Muslim Quarter, the quiet and relaxing grounds of the Big Goose Pagoda. With the other foot Xi'an has entered the future with high rise apartment blocks, IT-malls selling the latest electronical gadgets, dense smog which makes it impossible to clearly outline the city's contours (we now understand that China is not signing the Kyoto- protocol...), fastfood chains on every street corner, electronical scooters making crossing a street even more challenging... (you don't hear these basterds approaching...).

By the way, we saw some terracotta warriors too....

From Xi'an we took a nighttrain to the city of Pingyao, located halfway between Xi'an and Beijing, which is a village according to Chinese standards with its 450.000 inhabitants. The train trip to Pingyao is best described as 'interesting'. At Xi'an railway station a police officer (yep, again...) helped us out to queu the right line to get in the right train. Following him meant passing hunderds of people already standing in line and squeezing in just in front of the security checkpoint (if looks could kill we were dead by now...). In the waiting hall we were the main attraction. Apparently we look different and are very funny ... duh.... The 'hard sleeper' traincar had 3 beds on top of each other, snorring and spitting locals, a wagonlady resembling the 'iron lady'... So arriving in Pingyao at 6.30h in the morning was quite a relief.

Pingyao is a place where the old China is still alive. The two mainstreets are horrible, as they are filled with souvenir shops, restaurants and all other imaginable shit for the pleasure of the Chinese tourists. But as soon as we got off the mainstreets, Pingyao turned out to be a true delight. The old Ming and Qing houses with their grey brick walls and red lanterns all located within the ancient city walls, the smoke of charcoal coming out of the chimneys from the small local factories making the air smell like the old days, the sound and smell of fireworks blending in naturally. Watching 'village'-life pass by from the city walls was relaxing and mindsoothing, preparing for the urban chaos of Beijing...

In Pingyao we took a bus to Taiyuan, the capital of the province of Shanxi. From here we jumped on the CRH bullet train to Beijing. The travel time to Beijing, just over 600 km, was just a mere 3 hours... What to say about Beijing? Beijing is huge. The Beijing municipality is roughly the size of Belgium offering a home for about 15,6 million people. Beijing is ugly, Beijing is gorgeous, Beijing is a like a diamond which is getting more beautiful every day. It needs time. But when it's finally getting to you, the treasures which reveal themselves slowly are numerous ...

The orange-tiled roofs of the Forbidden City which were now white for a change, Mao Zedong's huge Mausoleum on Tian'anmen Square where the leader's mummified corpse is displayed covered with a red flag with yellow hammer and sickle, the Gate of Heavenly Peace with a huge Mao picture dominating Tian'anmen Square, the frozen lakes of Beihan park, the heavenly Temple of Heaven, the Olympic Birdnest Stadium (where are the birds by the way?) and the bubbly-blue Olympic Aquatic Centre, the old Hu Tongs connecting the modern broad and charmless streets from east to west (very Feng Shui...), the friendly locals who at least seem to know some english, although their vocabulary remains rather limited ('you, motherfucker...'), the Chinglish (= Chinese + English) expressions which systematically torture the grammatical laws of the English language ('Take care of the stairs' meaning 'watch out for the steps', 'Recovery' bins point at 'Recycle' bins), the completely out of this world fireworks on the 28th of February (Lantern Festival) finally announcing the end of the Spring Festival (although the streets are still white from the f&*king snow...), the gigantic Summer Palace which is also beautiful in winter, the instant noodles which made up a daily and above all excellent value lunch for 0,30 Eurocent, the artificial SOHO- wannabe 798 Art District, and of course .... Changcheng! The Great Wall!

As Mao Zedong said 'He who has not climbed the Great Wall is not a true man' we decided to make our visit a true pilgimage. The Great Wall is accessible at several places close to Beijing. We went to Jinshanling, about 120 km from the city and supposedly one of the most rough, largely unrestored, and hence most beautiful places to experience the wall. Having climbed up the uncountable stairs to get to the wall and ultimately having the Wall for ourselves with no other tourists in sight, was almost a spiritual event. It is truly so impressive to see the wall wriggling its way through the mountains like a snake. The 10km hike over the wall from Jinshanling to Simatai made a deep impact both mentally and physically (man, so many stairs...).

All the above- mentioned makes Beijing a great place to spend about a week before moving to our last destination in China. Qingdao. Travelling from Beijing to Qingdao with the CRH bullet train reduced traveltime to a louzy 5 hours. And coastal Qingdao is a surprise... The German architecture, the long seaside promenade and the huge St. Michael's church confused us a little. Is this still China? Or are we in Bavaria? The food though was still typically Chinese... we are still not sure whether it was pigs ears or kidneys or maybe even something else... But the Tsingtao beer which is brewed in Qingdao made it all acceptable. Yes, Qingdao is an unusual but relaxing place to end our China expedition in style. Tomorrow we will board the Orient Ferry to our next destination..... guess where...

See you later!

Timewarped: from Mexico to Myanmar

Mingalaba!

It's been a while butwe are still alive....

After 5 months it's time to leave Latin America behind us and move to the other side of the world. From Mexico City we flew to Dallas Fort Worth and then to San Francisco. In 'Frisco' we had to kill some time waiting to board our flight to Hong Kong. So we hopped on the 'BART' (Bay Area Rapid Transport- system) to downtown San Francisco. In San Francisco we pretty much rushed through the mainsights; Union Square (and for Lina a short visit to Macy's just to catch a glimpse of a decent shop after 5 months on the road...), China Town, the Trans America pyramid, Little Italy (man, it's so hard to resist all these nice restaurants along Columbus Avenue) and then to Lombard Street, the assumed world's crookedest street where the sensation is apparently just to queue up and then drive down.... isn't that 'hilarious'

? After our last effort to see the sunset as close to the Golden Gate Bridge as we could make it, we returned to the airport satisfied but tired to the bone, ready for a 16 hour overnight flight to Hong Kong.

Arriving in rainy Hong Kong early in the morning was quite a shock. No english spoken here. So the taxiride to our hotel was a downright rip-off. The first one. And hopefully the last one. Hong Kong deserves its status as New York from the East. Wow, what a city! Neon light forests on Nathan Road denser then the tropical rainforest, smells on the (night) markets that are hard to locate but they are stimuli (both positive and negative) for your senses, a skyline which makes Manhatten blur (although the daily light and sound show with lasers and all that was a bit of a disappointment, but, hey, who cares with all these skyscrapers lit with neon lights every night of the week anyway...), birds and goldfish being sold for luck on markets in Mong Kok, the clumsy use of our chopsticks in order not to starve, the Kung Fu fighters in Kowloon Park, doubledecker trams and busses manoeuvring between the highrise apartment blocks of Wan Chai, Central and Sheung Wan, the depressing and hence beautiful harbour of Aberdeen on the south side of Hong Kong Island and not to forget the unforgettable daily and nightly views from Victoria Peak. And, last but least, the greatest invention ever: the Octopus Card. Sent our minister to Hong Kong to learn about effective public transport payment systems..... Yes, we love Hong Kong! This is East meets West in the best imaginable way! But there is one thing we want to stress and that is: do not (I repeat: NOT) celebrate New Year in Hong Kong unless you need to be in bed early. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered on the waterfront promenade of Tsim Sha Tsui to watch the fireworks from the skyscrapers on the opposite site of the Victoria Harbour on Hong Kong Island. Although we saw at least maybe 2 rockets explode in the air, at 00.05 the police showed some very effective 'crowd management'- skills as everyone was forced to leave the waterfront and was sent back into the city centre and at 00.15 the waterfront promenade was deserted (and not accessible anymore). So we had to make our own party with our bottle of champagne and party attributes (...). Although no one joined (or understood) us, we still managed to hang out on the streets of downtown Hong Kong till the early morning....

And then time to move to South East Asia. An area where we planned to stay about 3 to 4 months before going to India, but we changed plans as soon as we arrived in Bangkok (Thailand). Is this real? This is even worse than we imagined it would be.... Thousands of (mostly) teenage backpackers are all gathered in one spot in South East Asia.... and we are in the middle of it....I think we are getting old...

Although Bangkok comes close to hell on earth, it was a good place to get acclimatized to the extremely humid and hot weather, do some cheap shopping, and.... arrange our visa for ... yes, fasten your seatbelts... Myanmar (to some people still known as Burma)! It took us about half a day on the more then chaotic embassy of Myanmar in Bangkok to fill out the necessary papers, hand them in and pay the visa fee of 16 Euro. But, it was all worth it. 2 days later we picked up our passports with visa!

Deciding to go to Myanmar meant some serious consideration weighing the pros and cons ('go' vs. 'not go'). Myanmar has an oppressive military regime and some say that tourism legitimises the government to continue like this as for example a share of the entrance fees that you need to pay go to the government and its generals. Although this is unmistakingly true we are convinced that there is another side as well. We are both convinced that tourism has a positive effect for the people of the country to play a part in the world, to talk with foreigners and practice their english. Moreover, of a less tangible character, where an international community is present it's less likely that human rights are being violated. We are constantly bearing in mind that we will spend as much as we reasonably can into the private sector (e.g. busses, minimarkets, flights, etc) and try to avoid to pay entrance fees.... And as we are no saints, honestly, the mere egocentric fact that we were so damn curious about this unknown pearl of South East Asia put a big weight on our final decision to give it a 'go'.

As it is currently not possible to enter Myanmar over land we flew from Bangkok to Yangon (stripped of its status as capital in 2005) with Air Asia (Ryanair of the east....). Arriving in Yangon felt like a 'timewarp'. The true Myanmar spirit revealed itself quickly and obviously..... men wearing long skirts called 'longyi', women wearing traditional 'thanaka' make-up, huge golden pagodas with lots and lots of worshippers, tons of male Dracula look-alikes due to the 'bettel- leaf' chewing, taxis that are nothing more than a chassis on wheels and the fact that we seem to be an attraction comparable with aliens from Mars... ET phone home....

Yangon is a huge city with its 5 million inhabitants but has a village-like feel compared to Bangkok. It is a mixture of British Victorian architecture, golden pagodas like the huge Shweddagon Paya and the riverside Bo Ta Taung Pagoda, bustling Boyoke Aung San Market and friendly locals who are extremely curious and eager to practice their English language skills.... We also met a nice girl called Phaw Phaw on the streets in downtown Yangon. She showed us around the city and took us on a local bus experience which is an adventure in itself (just look at the Burmese language and you will understand at least a little bit why... and then there is the bus itself of course....). Besides this another thing to take into account is the fact that electricity in Myanmar is a true come-and-go- system; every day the electricity goes on and off like the tides of the ocean (but then less predictable). One moment the whole city is dark and then it's (a little) lighter and again dark.... Add to this the sidewalks that are of the rumble-and-tumble kind and you will understand that our first day in Myanmar was an unforgettable one and hopefully a good sample of what there is to come. O, and, by the way, the rest of our stay in this time warped country we will not go anywhere without our new friend mr. Flashlight...

The second day we encountered an even more challenging, less easy to fix problem... money

. Money in Myanmar is a big problem. Actually, in the whole country there are no ATM's, creditcards are not accepted, traveller cheques are rarely cashed (and when they are there is a commission fee of around 25%), banks do not dispense cash advances... and we had just 500 US Dollar cash with us (in case of emergency).... After asking around everywhere, we learned that there is one hotel in Myanmar (lucky us, it's in Yangon!) that gives Mastercard cash advances. After getting enough money to stay about 4 weeks in Myanmar - on a tight budget- we encountered the next problem. Our US Dollar banknotes were not new enough... they are not accepted on the black market which is the only way to exchange US Dollars in the local Kyats... So one minute you think you have money and the next moment it's already an illusion...duh... Our tactic to spend the 'bad' dollars to pay in hotels under the motto 'this is all we have; take it or leave it' generally worked out... But still we needed to change our dollars in Kyats on the streets where everyone can see what you have ... Imagine that 100 USD in Kyats is a pile of 1000 Kyat banknotes equalling the size of a thick piece of cake. Adding to the aforementioned that we travelled with about 1500 USD in cash hidden everywhere, we cannot conclude differently than that money is a problem in Myanmar.

After Yangon we moved to the city of Bago - nicknamed Buddha World. The first impression of Bago was, let's say, not so good. The extremely busy Yangon- Mandalay mainroad (which is more or less the only road) crossed the city, with its millions of motorbikes, trucks, dogs, sidecars, pick-ups, cows and people.... No places to eat something decent (we wanted to end our shitty days as soon as possible...), friendly but also less friendly people shouting at us in quite a rude way ('hey you, where you go'? 'Money'?), looking at us shamelessly without any respect or whatsoever and electricity that is even more erratic than in Yangon. But underneath this chaotic surface there is a true spiritual Buddha world. Lots of beautiful monasteries with monks going around the city to collect their daily breakfast, pagodas like oases and reclining Buddhas which are bigger then an average apartment building. We thought that Buddhism comprises the expression of the 'Middle Way', but so far it's only extremes!

Leaving our backpacks in Bago we headed to the Golden Rock of Kyaikhtiyo. On the foot of Mount Kyaikhtiyo we based ourselves in the 'base camp'- village of Kin Pun. From Kin Pun we jumped in a truck to bring us half way the mountain. And that was far enough... With about 60 other people we got squeezed in a Spartan truck without roof or any kind of other security and in a 'Siberia-transport-like'- ride, with a driver who couldn't care less that he has the lives of so many people in his hands, we were taken to the drop-off point from where it was still a 45 minute hike to the top. After paying the immense 'entrance fee for foreigners' we could finally walk to the Golden Rock itself. This huge golden rock is perched on the edge of a cliff and marks the spot of a Buddha hair donated by a hermit in the 11the century. It's a place which draws loads of pilgrims (but just not today...) It's beautiful but somehow a little disappointing as we expected it to be even bigger.... the rides up and down Mt. Kyaikhtiyo were more memorable then the rock itself.

Back in Bago we took the nightbus to the city of Mandalay. The 'Road to Mandalay' was pretty loud (Burmese cinema is alive and kicking!

) and in the morning, after a 12 hour busride, we were woken up with a loud, long and meditative mantra in the bus. Goodmorning, Myanmar! Although we associated the name Mandalay with a romantic city it's nothing special at all, except the huge Mandalay Palace which covers an area of more then 4 square kilometers and Mandalay hill, a stupa dotted hill overlooking the city. But Mandalay is more about the ancient towns around it: the huge unfinished base of a planned 150m high stupa at Mingun which we reached by a trip over the Ayeyarwady River and an early morning 10km bicycle ride to Amarapura (The City of Immortality) with its U Bein Bridge which is the world's longest teak bridge measuring 1,2 km. To see the sun come up here and watch life pass by makes Amarapura wonderful!

Kalaw, our next destination, is a small town in the 'highlands' of Myanmar. From Kalaw we started our 3-day overnight trekking through the highlands passing through several hilltribes such as the Palaung, Pa-O, Danu and Thaung Thu people. Like true shephards we had a small herd with us consisting of 2 sheep: an 18- year old sheep and so-called guide a.k.a. Nan Khin Thein who was supposed to speak English but in fact could only make the typical 'beeehh'- sound', and another 20-year old 'some more tea, please?'-sheep a.k.a. Nan Khun. Our two sheep were unfortunately not able to build bridges between the tribe members and us, but despite this slight deception the trekking was very impressive anyhow. The landscape was an ever-changing colorpalet, the warm hospitality of the Danu family where we spent our first night on the hard wooden floor of their 'house', the delicious Shan-food, the little young monks of the wooden Pattu Monastery where we (and a dozen of mice) spent our second night 'on the road' waking us up with an 'who-can-pray-the-loudest-competition' at 5.30 in the morning and not to forget the always 'mingalaba' (= hello) - screeming kids.... This is the unexplored Myanmar! Ending the trekking pretty exhausted (it's damn hot in Myanmar...), we arrived at Inn Thein Monastery located on the banks of the Inlay Lake, our final destination. From here we took a longtailboat across the lake to the village of Nyaungshwe, our basecamp for exploring the fascinating waterworld of Inlay.

Inlay Lake is a world apart. The lake itself is the bouncing heart and its adjacent canals are its veins. This lake is literally alive; becoming bigger in the wet season and smaller in the dry season, on-the-water tomato and flower farms with farmers doing their job from a small boat, fishermen rowing their wooden boats with the typical Inlay leg-rowing technique, the plenty small villages with wooden stilted houses, the monasteries including the Nga Hpe Chaung (better known as the 'jumping cat monastery' where monks taught their cats to jump), the Red Mountain vineyards and winery (yes, Sauvignon Blanc 'made in Myanmar'...), the colourful Nan Pan market with hundreds of longtailboats and thousands of people from the surrounding tribal villages coming to buy and sell an unimaginable range of products. And from both the water and the shore you can feel it pulsating. You can feel its beat, the heartbeat of Inlay Lake... its rhythm is hypnotizing and makes you want to linger...

but there is still more to see and time is running out because of visa-limitations...time to move on.

After a 12-hour busride from hell on the bumpy 'roads' of central Myanmar passing through the mountains and along many female and children roadworkers (forced labour by the regime) we finally arrived completely exhausted in Nyaung U, one of the four bigger villages in the Bagan Archeological Zone. If you think Hong Kong is the superlative of skylines, then forget it now... Bagan is the 'king of skylines'. About 4000 pagodas and stupas in red, gold and white are spread over a plain which covers about 42 square kilometer. This is f*&cking spectacular! A 'pagoda-overdose' would have been a logical state of mind, but it was fascinating till the last one. The individual pagodas itself are without exception beautiful, but the real draw is the collective of these constructions all together taken in from the top of one of the pagodas. The sunset from the Pya Tha Da Pagoda with a cold Myanmar beer and the sunrise from the Bu Le Thi pagoda were heavenly! We spend our last days in Myanmar hiking and biking over de sandy dirttracks through the fields of pagodas in Bagan, from pagoda to pagoda, sometimes interrupted by the need to get rid of some irritating kids wanting so sell postcards and all kind of other shit. This is the good life.

'Timewarped' Myanmar is a hardcore travel destination, but at the same time one of the most authentic and rewarding places we have ever seen. For the people in the country we hope that things change as soon as possible meaning the military regime will be replaced with a democratic government so that the people of Myanmar also will know what true freedom means, but for Myanmar to continue to be the unique and distinctive travel destination as it is today, we hope that nothing will change in this country. The people here are knocking on the door to make business in tourism. Let's hope that it will not become a second Thailand in the future...

After another bumpy 15 hour busride with some flat tires and a 1,5 hour flight we are back in Bangkok. The so-called civilized world....

Myanmar, cay zu din ba deh! And now....... pizza

!

Mexico, Mexiii-iiiii-cooooooo!

Ola!

Mexico, the home of plenty of alive-and-kicking Mayas, the otherworldly Miami-copycat Cancun, the beachbuns of the Riviera Maya, the golfcarts of Isla Mujeres, the circus called Chichen Itza, the Manhattan-like Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City, rustic yellow colonial towns like Izamal, the famous green Volkswagen Beetle- taxis that are all painted red and gold nowadays (...), shopping bags with friendly skulls and of course the famous and always fast-as-lightning Speedy Gonzales (arriba, arriba!). You see; Mexico has it all... and we are just talking about a small bite from this big cheese....

From Belize we prolonged our 'chillaxed' way of getting around and continued our beachbunny-adventure along the Riviera Maya (original name, isn't it?). First stop on the 'Ruta de los Beachbuns' was Tulum. Although famous for its Maya ruins it is nothing more then a rather ugly town with a paradise-like-but-almost-unreachable-white-sand-beach. The beach is separated from town by dense bushes and there is only one access road about 4 km from town... duh, very user friendly... It turned out that the easiest way to get to the beach is via the ruins. So.... early to the ruins with our swinwear on. The ruins itself were pretty disappointing after what we have seen already, but its location is definitely unique: high on the cliffs of a white sandy beach and a blue, I mean blue, really blue, sea. For the rest Tulum has nothing to offer except a mainstreet with a lot of (almost empty) bars and restaurants... where are the people? Is it the H1V1- virus?

Puerto Morelos is our next stop. This is more like the real thing. Puerto Morelos is still an authentic laid-back fishing village on the Riviera Maya, generally unaffected by mass- tourism (unlike Tulum). Its alive main plaza (with Christmas Tree, yes, we are getting closer...), the pier with its Pisa-like lighthouse that was affected by the 1967 Hurricane Beulah, its beautiful quiet beach... too bad that we didn't skip Tulum to go straight here.... As some of our clothes were close to the point of dying, we went one afternoon to the city of Cancun. Shopping. Is this Mexico or is it The Strip in Miami? Jezus Christ, what a circus! A strip of 18 kilometers of hotels, bars and shopping malls, one hotel even bigger then the other, big-bellied people with bright coloured plastic bracelets in the most horrific colours depending on the taste of the All-inclusive resort of your choice, North Americans pretending that all values associated with normal behavior don't count here... in otherworldly Cancun.... Man, where are we? Fortunately we succeeded in our mission, being very happy to go back to our 'home-town' Puerto Morelos .... home sweet home....

From the 'Ruta de los Beachbuns' we got so tired that we needed a break.... no, seriously, in fact we wanted a break from it all. One week no worries about finding a place to sleep, searching for (cheap) food, carrying our stuff, etc. In short: charging our batteries before moving to hectic, hot, humid Asia. We thought that Isla Mujeres (Women's Island), just off the coast of Cancun, was a good place to do so... so we booked a vacation of one week in a beach resort. Although the resort was not worth its stars, we definitely had a great time doing nothing but sleeping, drinking our daily Mojitos and Soles, sunbathing

, swimming in the Caribbean 'pool'... Our only exercise was the 'chicken-on-the-broaster'- exercise and, to get rid of at least some of the calories, cycling around the island in the morning heat... Yep, this was how we imagined our 'vacation'...

Leaving the beach 'well-done' we left Isla Mujeres and moved into the Yucatan Peninsula. Valladolid was our first encounter with the real Mexico and we liked it. Although Valladolid was undergoing an extreme makeover (its streets were being paved, the colonial houses were collectively being painted), the city was definitely worth a couple of days. Especially off the main square there were no tourists and it was great to walk around here, admiring the typical colonial style buildings, the Zaci cenote (underground river) in the middle of town and less but not least just enjoying daily life.

From Valladolid we went to the main historical attraction of the Yucatan Peninsula: Chichen Itza. Trying to temper our expectations, because of the beautiful Maya- sites we have seen already in Guatemala, Honduras and Belize, we were still very curious whether it would be able to live up to its status as one of the New 7 World Wonders.... To make the chances to do so as big as possible, we stayed in the village of Piste just 2 km from the site so that we could be there as early as possible before all touring busses would arrive.... and that saved Chichen Itza...

Although the site is beautiful; the impressive pyramid on the grand plaza functioning as the solar calender of the Mayas, the temples in the typical Puuc style, the Chac Mool sacrifice stone, its huge ballcourt, the obeservatory (being the only circular structure of that time) but it is lacking something... the 'wow- factor'. The main reason is because of the (literally) hundreds of souvenir-stands along the main paths connecting the different buildings.... Our ability to imagine and visualize how the ancient Mayas were living in Chichen Itza was largely troubled by the market vendors pushing their 'shit' almost in your face and not shutting their f*&king mouths for a second ... Chichen Itza is big BIG business... you will probably understand that we skipped the Pink Floyd light-and-sound show in the evening ...

Moving to the heart of the Yucatan, there is the town of Izamal 'El pueblo magico'. Izamal (derived from the Mayan word Itzamna meaning 'mist from heaven' definitely is magic (and not misty, but ... we have to admit: mostly cloudy). All the colonial buildings in town are painted in the same colour yellow. The huge (yep, also yellow) Convento San Antonio de Padua is a jewel (although also being renovated....), the Kinich- Kakmo pyramid in the middle of the town center is one of the largest in the Maya world (200 x 180m), the Kinich restaurant with its Yucatan specialities was the best imaginable place to celebrate our one year anniversary on the 18th of december (and still not being tired of each other...). Yes, Izamal rocks!

Our last stop in the Yucatan is Merida. Merida is alive and kicking especially on sundays when the Plaza Santa Lucia is filled with the city's 'seniors' enjoying the outside dance venue going loco and get some exercise. Some of the locals dance with so much passion (and all body parts...) that it seems they forget the world around them completely.

From Merida we flew with Mexicana Airlines to Mexico D.F. (Distrito Federal). This huge capital with around 20 million inhabitants is very impressive (and not only because of its size). Its beautiful Centro Historico with the Zocalo (one of the biggest squares in the world) was filled with a huge ice-skating rank and all kind of other Christmas related stuff (which was fairly reasonable because it was the 23rd of December when we arrived in 'D.F.'). The buildings surrounding the square were decorated with kind of kitsch lights representing the Three Kings (in our opinion a little early, but ok...) and a fluorescent 4x4 meter Mary and Jesus- piece of art hanging next to the Catedral Metropolitana... Although the Centro Historico is beautiful the other neighbourhoods in the city are also definitely worth it. The Zona Rosa (no, it's not what you think...), Cuauhtemoc (for the folks among you who were in NY: a sort of SOHO- like area), the Bohemian quarters of Coyoacan and San Angel, the Paseo de la Reforma (a huge passageway through the city which definitely can compete with Manhattan) and the huge Bosque the Chapultepec (forget about the Central Park, this is the real thing!)

Knowing that Rudolph would not come to Mexico, we 'celebrated' Christmas without the friendly rendeer, but with lots of other things. Imagine a Christmas in Mexico D.F. as: sunny weather with a temperature of 23 degrees Celsius, the largest (Pepsi-sponsored) X- mas tree in the world measuring 122 meters, the typical Mexican 'piñ atas' everywhere hanging on the streets, hundreds of nativity scenes competing with each other for being the most original or biggest or beautiful, literally millions of people on the streets doing their last-minute shopping, children singing christmas carols for 'posada' ('posada' means 'lodging' but better imagine it as a legitimate way of begging for money and candy, giving you the ultimate 'guilttrip' if you don't give anything....).

Pinatas are the most emblematic element of the Mexican christmas. Christmas pinatas are made of clay and covered withy coloured paper. They normally have 7 points representing the 7 deadly sins, but are filled with sweets and fruit representing the grace of God. They are hung around everywhere and children break them with a stick, but blind-folded, representing the virtuous faith that allows people to believe without seeing.

For us spending Christmas in Mexico City was a mixed blessing; restaurants were closed on the 24th and 25th of december meaning we had a pretty pathetic kind of dinner in our hotel, the museums had free admission which meant loads of people, the 25th was the perfect day for an extensive and to our (travel-) standards a pretty luxury breakfast/lunch = brunch (yes, a very few places were open...) and take the underground to the Bosque de Chapultepec and just walk and hang around together with probably half the population of Mexico City. As you can imagine 'busy' is an understatement...

About 40 km from Mexico City is the Aztec- site of Teotihuacan, the City of the Gods (in Nahuatl language). Getting there before the masses we got up at 5.30h to take a nightly metro-ride through all Mexico City to one of the major the busstations at the outskirts of town. From there it was a one-hour busride to Teotihuacan with the world around us slowly (in a Mexican pace...) waking up. And was it worth it? For sure! After all Maya- sites we saw, this was significantly different. The magnitude of the Piramides del Sol (sun) and de la Luna (moon) and the fact that all buildings are aligned along the 3 km Causeway of the Dead, so-called because archeologists believe the pyramids to be mausoleums, has made a profound impression on us.

Ok, folks, this the end of our Latin America- experience. For us it was a great adventure with its ups and downs. The fact that we don't speak Spanish fluently was a handicap, although in a few months we mastered at least a basic level to communicate... Our curiosity is saturated now (there is no hungryness for more Latin America), but all the time we had enough curiosityf or new adventures, countries , people and habits... Bolivia is, even despite the not-so-pleasant-gunpoint-robbery, definitely our favourite country in Latin America because of its pureness and its magnificent nature! Draw your own conclusions, use your imagination, explore the world! For us it's time to broden our horizon and explore the other side of the world: Asia!

See you again in Hong Kong! ?