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[flossinginthesunshine]

Cambodia: From Pain to Pride

The year is 1975. There has been a civil war raging in the countryside of Cambodia for five years between the weak monarchy in power and the communist regime known as the Khmer Rouge. The monarchy was made up of mostly educated and wealthy Cambodians working in the government/military, while the Khmer Rogue base was predominantly farmers and rural villagers. On April 17, 1975, the Khmer Rouge overthrew the monarchy and took control of the capitol, Phnom Penh.

Over the next four years, two million people were killed under the Marxist leader Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. In a dramatic effort to force Cambodia back to the Middle Ages and create an agrarian utopia, one-fourth of the population was tortured, starved and murdered. Intellectuals were the target. Cities were emptied. Currency was abolished. 

We spent a day at the S-21 jail in Phnom Penh, learning about the horrors of just one of hundreds of torture camps in Cambodia during this time. 

Communication to the outside world was completely cut off. One Swedish photographer and his team were invited into the country, and Pol Pot put on a grand show for them… making it seem as though everything in Cambodia was picture perfect. The team returned to Europe and reported to the rest of the world that there was nothing to worry about in Cambodia, and that Pol Pot was a beloved leader taking care of his country.

Meanwhile, 17,000 prisoners were being tortured and killed in the heart of Phnom Penh. Only twelve people who entered S21 survived. 

The Khmer Rouge were eventually overthrown by the Vietnamese in 1979, but the horror would live on in the lives of Cambodians for generations to come and the effects of the war are easily visible today. When you spend time in Cambodia, you’ll quickly notice that you don’t see many old people; it’s rare to see someone over the age of 60 out and about. The U.N. continued to recognize the Khmer Rouge as the governing body of Cambodia until 1991, even though they were no longer living in Cambodia and were hiding in exile in the hills of Northern Thailand. Pol Pot wasn’t brought to trial until 1997, and only then was he sentenced to house arrest where he died a year later.

If any of this intrigues you, I recommend reading First They Killed My Father -- one of the only first person accounts of the genocide, told from the perspective of 5-year-old Loung Ung. She was separated from her parents and six siblings and sent to a child soldier camp, miraculously survived the war, and eventually made her way to America where she began telling her story to anyone who would listen. 

In my research on Cambodia, I came across this quote from Joseph Mussomeli, a former US Ambassador to Cambodia: 

“Be careful because Cambodia is the most dangerous country you will ever visit. You will fall in love with it and eventually it will break your heart.” 

I couldn’t describe the feeling any better. In many ways, our time in Cambodia was like other the SE Asian countries we’ve visited -- markets, temples, beaches, and bungalows -- but what made us feel more connected to this special place was the people. Despite the tragedies they’ve endured in quite recent history, they have the friendliest attitudes and most positive outlook on life. While it continues to be one of the poorest nations in the world, the people have fully embraced tourism as their fastest growing industry and exude hope and optimism with every interaction. 

And with that, I’ll leave you with these photos + captions of our four glorious yet heart wrenching weeks in Cambodia:  

Angkor Wat: The Largest Religious Monument in the World

First up was Siem Reap, a charming city home to Angkor Wat - the largest religious monument in the world. We spent two days exploring the Angkor Archaeological Park, which spans over 400 acres of Cambodian jungle. 

Originally built as a Hindu temple in the 12th century, Angkor Wat was converted into a Buddhist temple in the 14th century, and served as the capital of the Khmer Empire through the 15th century. At it’s peak, the complex was home to 1 million people (!!) making it the largest city in the world until the Industrial Revolution. Today, it’s protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, welcoming several million visitors per year.

Watching the sunrise with 1,000+ fellow travelers. 

Garrett and Sarafina (who we met in Laos) traveled with us throughout Cambodia, making our time in this lovely country that much sweeter. 

According to inscriptions, the construction of Angkor Wat involved 300,000 workers + 6,000 elephants, and took over 30 years to complete to it’s current state. However, it was never fully completed and no one knows exactly why... 

The faces of Angkor Wat, otherwise known as The Banyon. Two-hundred and sixteen faces make up the only Mahayana Buddhist shrine in the Angkor Wat complex. The faces are said to belong to the Bodhisattva of compassion, who has mastered the soft smile. 

The Khmer architecture was shaped to express the Hindu vision of the relationship between nature and humanity... creating a strikingly beautiful dichotomy between crumbling stone and thriving forest.

10 Days in Otres Beach 

Next on our list was Otres Beach. We arrived in the port city of Sihanoukville via a 12-hour overnight bus from Siem Reap and walked straight to the beach to find a home. We snagged a private bungalow at Sea Garden Guest House for 10 USD per night. What sold us was the large vegan menu, real coffee and the fact that they delivered your food straight to your beach chair. The employees at Sea Garden were all fellow travelers, working a few hours a day in exchange for free food and lodging.

W quickly learned that Otres Beach moves at it’s own pace and attracts and a very unique type of long-term traveller. We heard this line time and time again: “I planned to stay for 3 days, but now it’s been 3 weeks.” Soon enough, we were saying the same thing; we planned to stay 3-4 days and finally left after 10.

Our days were nearly identical to our week in Goa, India... morning runs, afternoons spent reading and tossing the Frisbee, sunset yoga and reiki and evenings playing trivia next door. The guesthouse next door had a small library that rented books for $0.25/day and boasted a huge collection of Beat authors (Kerouas, Ginsberg, Kesey). If we didn’t have a 30-day visa, I think you’d find JJ still reading at the beach six months later. 

Otres Beach is around 3 miles long, with a large stretch of sand splitting the guesthouses and spanning 1.5 miles of emptiness. Ten years ago, this stretch was full of bungalows just like ours, but they have since been torn down by the Cambodian government to make room for new Chinese development.

The properties on Otres (including our beloved Sea Garden) have already received their eviction notices, and will have to vacate their land sometime in the next three years. Maybe that’s why people stay Otres so long... because they know this hippy paradise of cheap vegan food and unobstructed sunsets is coming to an end very soon. 

One night, we decided to venture out from the safety of our beach and check out a sunrise party in the jungle called Kerfuffle. This jungle rave happens every Wednesday night, and doesn’t kick off until 2am. In an effort to get nearly a full night’s sleep, we went to bed at our normal time (9pm) and set our alarms for 2am, hopped in a tuk-tuk and got to the rave around 2:30am. We boogied until sunrise, making it back to our beach for a nap around 7am. 

The set-up was reminiscent of a music festival... with a DJ stage, Ferris wheel, tree-house behind the dance floor and lights twinkling in the trees. At one point it started pouring down rain and we all huddled underneath one of the carnival rides until the DJ started playing again. 

We’re unable to capture the highlight of Otres Beach in photographs, because it involves seeing the ocean glow. The coast of Cambodia is known for it’s bio-luminescent plankton that glow a bright green color when disturbed. All you have to do is swim out into the ocean in the middle of the night (one of my worst nightmares) and make a lot of movement. After a few minutes of splashing around in the dark, JJ said “look down.” And there it was... thousands of glowing green stars moving with our bodies underwater. It was magical and we spent hours mesmerized by how cool our planet is. 

After swimming with the plankton, it was finally time to leave Otres. Our minivan to Kampot picked us up right on time and then made one additional stop to snag another round of passengers. We pulled up to a nearby hotel and the driver got out of the car to help the guests with their bags. However, he forgot one minor detail of putting on the parking brake... and the van started rolling forward, heading straight for the hotel pool. JJ and I stared at each other in horror while the driver nonchalantly made his way back to the van, put it in park and laughed uncontrollably. He then went back to get the bags and the van started rolling forward AGAIN. This time we jumped out of the van, landing safely on the ground and refused to get back in until the driver promised not to leave his seat. 

Oh SE Asia... always keeping us on our toes. 

Kampot + Kep

We spent the next week exploring the waterfront towns of Kampot and Kep... living in tree houses, eating very mediocre crab and tasting the “world famous” and incredibly over-hyped Kampot pepper (ever heard of it? neither had we).

 . Cambodia in the clouds. 

Funky bathroom art: say hello in your language :) 

What may appear to be a peaceful sunset scene is in reality a fleet of Vietnamese fishing boats that have encroached upon Cambodian waters using illegal fishing practices (electrified nets) to steal the catch of the day. The police department and fishing authorities have very little control, which has led to a vigilante war between the two fishing communities and caused nearly irreversible ecological destruction.

Once a charming coastal town frequented by French vacationers, Kep is now trying to regain it’s status on the backpacker trail as the place to go for fresh crab. Twenty-five stalls line the beach with signs proclaiming their fish superior to all the others. While the flavors were quite underwhelming, watching these two play with their food more than made up for it. 

Rabbit Island: More Hammocks Than People

As if our time in Cambodia hadn’t been relaxing enough, we retreated to a tiny island off the coast of Kep for a few days. What we found was more hammocks than people, the best curry of our entire trip, and lots of Vitamin D.

Forever chasing cairns.

Phnom Penh: Our Favorite Big City in SE Asia

This city blew us away with it’s sense of community, vegetarian food, and booming infrastructure. At one rooftop bar, we counted 40 cranes on the horizon. The smells, sights, sounds, markets, and nonstop dodging of motorbikes reminded us of India, and we quickly took a liking to it. 

Cambodia (especially Phnom Penh) is known for it’s knock-off name brand shopping game. You can get anything from iPhones to Levis to designer bags… and we dedicated an entire day to exploring these markets. JJ hit the jackpot at this little air conditioned store where these five Cambodian women dedicated two hours to finding him the perfect pair of paints. He walked out with three new pairs, all perfectly tailored to his body, for a whopping $32.

In the heart of the market, just when you think you may pass out from heat exhaustion... you’ll find Mr. Al Bounnarith, who makes the self-proclaimed (and rightfully so) “best iced coffee in Phnom Penh.” He started this venture right after the Khmer Rouge in 1980 when coffee was a foreign concept to Cambodians, used all of his profits to care for his sick mother, and now spends his days entertaining travelers and leaving us feeling refreshed and WIRED. 

Finding good, cheap, vegetarian food in SE Asia is difficult... so we were thrilled to find a spot with $0.50 pumpkin juice, $1 fried mushrooms, and $2 veggie noodles. Naturally, we ate here four times in three days. 

If I could capture the essence of modern-day Cambodia in one place, it would be at the Olympic Stadium. Ironically, Phnom Penh has never hosted an Olympics... but nevertheless, our hotel was just a few blocks from here, and we read online it was a good place to run. Little did we know it was also home to the number one place to work out in the city. We went running there twice, once in the morning and once at night... each time marveling at the sense of community radiating from this place. There were street-side market vendors selling fruit and fried noodles at every turn, sand volleyball games, paralympics events, tennis matches, Taekwondo tournaments, zumba classes, and hundreds of people just hanging out. We were the only westerners there both times, and we loved it. 

Photo courtesy of Google. 

Towards the end of our time in Cambodia, we met a fellow traveler who shared our love for the country and had spent way more time there than our 30-day visa would allow. As we said goodbye to him, he left us with this: “The best places in Cambodia have yet to be discovered.” 

So my advice to you is... go to Cambodia! Embrace it’s history. Let your heart break. Support the local economy. Exchange smiles with every person you cross. Discover those undiscovered places. 

We can’t wait to go back one-day soon.

Cheers,

Camryn 

[flossinginthesunshine]

Laos PDR: Part II

Never ones to miss to a good bargain, we spent our last night in Luang Prabang checking prices at a dozen different travel agencies in search of the cheapest bus fare to Vang Vieng a river town 6-9 hours south of us (time range depends on type of bus, quality of driver, direction of wind, air in the tires, how often the driver stops to pee….really, any and every reason has come up before). Our Dutch friends from our hike in Northern Laos gave us a tip for a hole-in-the-wall place, and we successfully bought tickets for $2 less than every other operator in town.

We arranged to be picked up just outside our guest house at 6:30am and were told to be on the lookout for a silver passenger van. We were up, packed and out the door at 6:25am, only to realize that there was no way a big van could fit down our tiny alley. Maybe the van would be waiting for us on a main road near by? But which main road, since our guesthouse alley dumped out on either side of a main road? Camryn went left, I sped off to the right, and together we covered about 200 meters of road where this silver passenger van might pass.

6:30 turned to 6:45, to 7, to 7:15, to finally 7:30. Camryn and I had been pacing the road for a full hour, frantically waving at every silver van that passed by. Keep in mind… the Chinese New Year is still in full force, and the entire town Luang Prabang is crowded with Chinese tour groups driving in massive fleets of silver vans. We sure were a sight to behold -- two fully wired white people with big backpacks chasing down van after van after van, only to be completely ignored by the drivers.

At 7:30am, Camryn convinced a local shopkeeper to call our tour company and ask for a status update. Low and behold, not enough people had signed up for the early morning bus, and we weren’t going to be picked up until 9:30am. While we were frustrated that no one told us about the change… we also knew that it would have been impossible for them to let us know. We didn’t have SIM cards in Laos, and it’s not like we are Facebook friends with the bus operators. We bought some coffee, grabbed a pastry, and sat on the corner until our chariot arrived at 9:30am.

Of course, it didn’t actually arrive at 9:30. Or 9:45, or 10. Shortly after 10:15am, a silver van rolls by and Camryn and I once again performed our silver van dance. This time… it worked! Our van had finally arrived. Onwards to Vang Vieng.

Note about transportation in Laos: while distances may be short (Vang Vieng is only 220 km away from Luang Prabang), the roads are windy, hilly, full of potholes and dangerously skinny in width. At most, our van was rolling along at 40km/hour. The road between Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng, one of the main “highways” in Laos, is more reminiscent of a 4x4 fire road you would find in a U.S. National Forest. If you stretch the definition of pavement to include anything that even attempts to seal a road, you can call it sucesfully paved. As we travelled through the beautiful countryside, a thick smoke filled the air and almost blocked out the blue sky. Fires were spreading across the land, as the Hmong villages prepared for the wet season by slashing and burning their agricultural fields. The smell is quite pungent, but you get used to it after a while.

It’s common practice in SE Asia for bus drivers to stop along the way and pick up additional locals who are looking to go in our direction, assuming there are still open seats on the bus. Given the slow speed of transit, it’s quite easy for a local to stand on the roadside and flag down a driver. If the van is full it simply keeps driving past; however, if there are any openings, the driver quickly comes to a stop and discusses a price with the local. While we may pay $10 USD to go from A to B, locals getting picked up in this fashion may only pay $1-$2. The bus drivers never report these ‘additional passengers’ to their bosses, so all this becomes pocket money for the drivers. While drivers are not technically allowed to do this, and tour operators will advertise that their drivers don’t make these stops when you are booking tickets… it happens all of the time. Typically it’s no bother, as it only adds one minute per stop and there are usually open seats.

HOWEVER, on this particular journey, it got out of control. These additional local passengers, quickly outnumbering the western tourists paying full price for tickets, started doing their grocery shopping on our route! We must have stopped at 3-4 markets along the way, and waited (patience quickly vacating my body) while they picked the ripest papayas and mangos from streetside stalls. We stopped at a corner store so a passenger could pick up a big case of beer, and at one restaurant so a local could order food from the menu and wait for it to be packed up in a to-go container. We had easily added an extra 90 minutes to our journey when I came to my breaking point as we slowed down at another market. I piped up from the back of bus, quite loudly and full of frustration:

Driver! If you stop at this market, I will call your boss and tell him what you have been up to. I have his business card w/ email and phone number on it (this was a lie, I had no way to get in touch w/ anyone) and will happily tell him how you wasted over an hour of time time, and I’ll put it all over TripAdviser advising tourists to go with a different bus company. You have already made enough money from these people; they can do their shopping on their own time. I’m sure your boss won’t be happy to hear about this.”

At this point, all the locals turned to look at me, and even Cam wasn’t quite sure what to think about my frank conversation with the driver. Did he understand a word of what I was saying? Not sure, but he grumbled a few things, threw some nasty glances my way in the rearview mirror, and sped back up on the highway. Needless to say, we didn’t make any more unplanned stops. When we arrived in Vang Vieng, he pleaded w/ me not to contact his boss.

It is now 3pm and we’re exhausted, hot and both dealing with a bit of carsickness. One more hurdle to jump over before we can kick back and relax: where to sleep. We were unable to book lodging in Vang Vieng because (thanks, once again, Chinese New Year) the only listings left online were asking well over $100 USD per night, so we headed off on an epic journey through town to find a guesthouse. For context, it is mid 90 degrees outside and we have our big packs on our back and small packs on our front. Many guesthouses were full… a few were nasty… and one turned out to be right next door to a loud karaoke bar that only started playing music right after we had said yes to a room, checked in and laid down. We promptly returned the key and said NO THANK YOU. Always an adventure, right? 

Like everything always does, it all worked out in the end. We made it to Vang Vieng safely and eventually  we found a nice hotel in a good part of town with a queen sized comfy bed. We relied on each other for support (Cam was my rock that day; it was an emotional whirlwind for me, and I was totally spent and pretty much worthless by the end), and enjoyed long showers and some A/C before going to bed early.

^rooftop yoga at sunset

We spent four days hiking in the hills, kayaking and tubing down the river, and relaxing in this gorgeous riverside town while peering out at the massive karst cliffs surrounding us.

And most importantly... we made friends! One afternoon while relaxing at a riverside restaurant called “Smile Bar,” we struck up a conversation with the couple in the canopy next to us. Garrett & Sarafina are from Scottsdale, Arizona, and also quit their jobs to travel throughout Morocco and SE Asia for six months. We bonded over music festivals, our favorite bands, quitting our jobs, and the trials and triumphs of life on the road… and quickly realized they were kindred spirits who would become lifelong friends and travel partners of ours.

^ Smile Bar

These two are wonderful to be around and have added so much joy to our trip. Outgoing, spontaneous, kind, empathetic, spiritual, inquisitive… you name the positive quality, and they have it. To solidify the friendship even further… they are also keen to rise early in the morning and be in bed by 10pm. Our kind of people! As fate would have it, their rough itinerary for the next few months was nearly identical to ours, and we’ve now been travelling with them for almost a full month :).

From Vang Vieng we embarked on our first sleeper bus of the trip, with the final destination being Pakse. To our delight, Cam and I actually shared 1 bed (1 bed = 2 seats) so we were able to enjoy a nearly full night’s sleep. I can only imagine how awkward it would be to share a bed with a complete stranger, which would be the inevitable case if you chose to book only one seat.  The guy across the aisle from us drank four beers in the hour leading up to the bus ride, and then promptly took two valium (we know this because he proudly told the whole bus and then offered up any valium if anyone around us would like it). We passed on the valium. That gentleman… he slept through both bathroom stops, not moving a muscle or changing his position for the entire 12-hour ride. We shouldn’t be surprised after what he ingested, and we were happy to see he was alive by the end of it!

As you may recall from our India posts, we last saw our Dutch friends -- Hans and Isabelle -- in Pushkar and had made rough plans to “meet up somewhere in SE Asia at a later date.” We stayed in touch every week or so, checking calendars and discussing ideas for a rendezvous, and finally reunited in Pakse as they were nearing the very end of their trip! It was was so wonderful to see them again after nearly two months apart, and over a sub-par Indian dinner (pro tip: don’t try to eat Indian food in a small town in Laos after spending two months eating the real thing)... we caught up on their latest adventures in India and southern Thailand and ours in northern Thailand and Laos.

Now we had a gang of six… a biker gang of six to be precise. Pakse is the launching point for the Bolovan Plateau, an area of Laos that is best explored by motorbike. The six of us (Garrett, Sarafina, Hans, Isabelle, Cam and myself) left our big packs at a guesthouse and rode off into the Laos countryside on three motorbikes, with one small daypack per couple. We spent two days riding nearly 300km through the rolling hills, jumping off waterfalls along the way whenever possible.

The highlight of our time on the Boloven Plateau took place on our first night in the town of Tad Lo. Camryn had read online that a nearby resort owns two elephants and bathes them in the river every night at 5:30pm. It was an incredibly intimate and authentic experience… and we didn’t pay a dime. In Thailand you’d pay well over $100 to spend five minutes with an elephant, and you’d be questioning just how fairly they were being treated the entire time.

The elephant we took a liking to was named Moon. She was 65-years-old and was retired after spending 40 years as a working elephant in the Laos countryside in the logging industry, conquering feats of incredible strength seven days a week. During this time she was always treated with respect by her crew, fed well, and never abused. This resort in Tad Lo bought her five years ago, and has been allowing her to live out her remaining years in peace and tranquility. She no longer works; she simply “hangs out” with the resort guests and eats huge amounts of bananas and sugarcane for dinner each night. We spent nearly two hours with Moon and the owner, asking a million questions and getting up close and personal with her. We felt the strength of her jaws, put our hands inside the holes where her tusks would have been if she had them, looked into her big beautiful brown eyes and gave her more hugs than we can count. There were no chains and she wasn’t drugged like many animals are in these situations… she was simply a happy, retired elephant who allowed us to experience her majestic beauty to our heart’s desire. Thank you Moon. We won’t ever forget you.

That night, we feasted! The six of us (plus two additional friends -- Chido and Daisy -- who we met in Pakse and were also doing the motorbike loop) settled down for dinner at a local guesthouse that only had one menu available for the entire restaurant. We swapped travel stories well into the night while passing around bowls of noodles, papaya salads, fresh fruit and ice cream. Four local kids between the ages of 4-10 (who we assumed were the restaurant owner’s kids) joined us and took a liking to our cell phones. Not the least bit shy, they sat on our laps and took selfies, played games and giggled like crazy. When our food came out, they grabbed forks and started shoveling down our fried noodles as if they hadn’t eaten in days! We couldn’t be too upset as the portions were HUGE and these kids were adorable… but it got a little out of hand as they ended up eating more than we did.

We joked that the reason the restaurant owner made the portions so big was so the guests wouldn’t get mad when their kids ate half of our meal… but then to our surprise the kids’ actual mom came over from next door and called them home without saying a word to us! They didn’t actually belong to the restaurant owner, but they had successfully gotten a free and delicious dinner out of us that night.

^ She always finds puppies.

^Main road in Don Det, 4k Islands.

Last on our list in Laos was the island of Don Det, which is located in an area of Southern Laos known as the 4,000 Islands. Don Det, the biggest of the islands, is without a doubt the chillest place we have been in Asia. A small dirt path runs around the island (5 mile circumference), and there are no cars or taxi’s. Here, our days were spent reading in the hammocks on the front porch of our bungalow, kayaking to smaller islands, eating green curry at the restaurant next door every single night for dinner (it was that good), and riding old rickety bicycles to the other side of the island for homemade ice cream.

In our next post, you’ll hear all about our adventures in Cambodia!

JJ

[flossinginthesunshine]

Laos, PDR: Please Don’t Rush

Oh Laos… your service was slow and your food was average, but your beauty and charm are unrivaled to anywhere else in SE Asia. You tested our patience with your unofficial slogan: “Laos, PDR: Please Don’t Rush” (PDR actually stands for People’s Democratic Republic, which is confusing because it’s a communist country)... but alas, you encouraged us to slow down and after just three weeks, we were smitten.

Our time in Laos started with a very peaceful border crossing, contrary to what other travelers told us about the craziness of the Laos / Thailand border. At 8 a.m., we were the very first people in line to snag a visa upon arrival. We made it through the border in less than 10 minutes, catching one of the best sunrises of our trip on the way.

While most people cross the border and take a slow boat down the Mekong River directly to Luang Prabang, we opted for the road less traveled and explored Northern Laos first. After crossing the border, we hopped in a tuk-tuk hoping to catch the 9:30 a.m. bus to our first destination: Luang Namtha. We were dropped off at the bus station at 9:27 a.m. and there was one mini-van left in the parking lot. We were greeted with smiles and a head nod when we asked if this van was going to Luang Namtha, and then shuffled onto a van (sans A/C) with 25 locals.

The 4-hour journey was one of the prettiest drives of our entire adventure so far… we jammed to the Wood Brothers new album, while winding through ethnic villages and climbing higher and higher into the mountains. At one point, the driver stopped the van in the middle of the road, crossed the street and starting peeing on the side of the road. All of the locals on the bus followed suit, and we quickly realized this was the Laos version of a bathroom break. 

First stop: Luang Namtha

This one-road mountain town is known for it’s jungle trekking and mountain biking. We decided not to do any organized treks in India and Thailand, so we were craving a challenging adventure and an opportunity to sleep outside again.

And so commences the game of finding the right trek. The main street of Luang Namtha is scattered with a dozen different trekking providers, each with a chalkboard out front listing their upcoming treks and the number of people signed up so far. Here’s the catch: the more people who go on each trek, the cheaper the trek is per person… but you never know how many people are going to sign up until very last minute. After stalking a few of the providers, we decided to wait a day, hopefully make some new friends and then lure them into going on a trek with us.

The following day we rented mountain bikes and explored the surrounding countryside. The vistas were vast and the locals smiling and waving at us from the roadside stands made for a very charming day.

Back in town that evening, we once again set out in search of a trek (or some new friends). A quirky Dutch couple in their 30s came to our rescue and once we realized we were looking for a similar level of difficulty in a trek, we decided to team up.

We left the next morning on a 3-day, 2-night trekking and camping experience. Feeling a bit lost without our normal camping gear, we packed a change of clothes and two very old sleeping bags provided by the trekking company… and hit the trail with our jungle guide, Pan.

Pan was a miracle worker in the jungle. The bamboo forest was his office, and his machete was his pen. We joked that he was the Tarzan of Northern Laos, probably raised by bamboo itself. In reality… Pan was from a nearby ethnic village and has been leading jungle treks for the last 10 years. He grew up learning survival skills in the jungle as a kid, has two daughters and cherishes his machete (always strapped to his belt). And with that machete, he could make absolutely anything out of bamboo.

Bamboo coffee cups. 

Bamboo shack with bamboo beds inside. 

We learned early on that Pan understood English quite well because he would listen to our conversation and laugh at the appropriate times; however, he wasn’t very good at answering our questions (and we had a LOT of questions):

Us: “Hey Pan, what kind of tree is this?”

Pan: “It’s a tree.”

Us: “Hey Pan, how did you catch that rat and those frogs?”

Pan: “Yep, I caught them.”

Us: “Hey Pan, how do you know which mushrooms are edible and which are magic and/or poisonous?” Pan: (points at mushrooms and doesn’t say a word)

Nevertheless, it made for a funny story after the trek and gave us more time to get to know the Dutch couple. Eddie and Annemieke are fellow world travelers who are up for any adventure and have an endless amount of positivity. They were the ideal trekking partners and we never ran out of conversation or laughs with them… especially when we played Happy Salmon with our other guide who didn’t understand a single word of English, but was able to understand the game perfectly.

Pan made a monopod out of bamboo so we could take this group photo.  

The food on our trek was the best food we had in Laos. Breakfast consisted of eggs, fresh veggies, tomato sauce and sticky rice. Lunch was similar with additional greens (picked from the jungle), bamboo shoot soup and of course… sticky rice. Dinner was a bit more elaborate with a feast of slow roasted pork over the fire, rattan soup, rats + frogs, veggies and the fan favorite: sticky rice. I can’t tell you why I enjoy white rice so much more when it’s stuck together as opposed to steamed, but it’s amazing. Every meal was fresh, simple and filling. We ate with our hands, sitting on banana leaves and feeling extremely thankful for this experience.  

Cooking the pork, frogs and rat... using bamboo skewers. 

Eating the rat: “Do not recommend.” 

It was so refreshing to be back outside with nothing but a single backpack, living off the land, swimming in the river instead of showering, engaging in rich conversations and challenging our bodies physically.

Next stop: Nong Khiaw

Sufficiently exhausted after three days and 60 kilometers of jungle trekking, we retreated to the strikingly beautiful town of Nong Khiaw. Nestled up along the Mekong River and surrounded by towering limestone peaks, we knew we’d get stuck here for a few days here the minute we rolled in. We snagged a bungalow about a mile outside of town with an unobstructed view of the river and mountains… and of course, a hammock.

We spent the next few days doing yoga by the river, reading in the hammock, and eating average Laos food. 

One afternoon we left the comforts of our hammock and took off walking down a dirt road in front of our bungalow. After coercing JJ into following me down an even smaller and windier dirt road, we crossed a stream and continued following the path until it opened up into a sweeping valley surrounded by towering limestone peaks and covered in farmland. 

Over the river and through the woods... 

A few bamboo houses on stilts scattered the fields and we spotted a couple farmers in the field… but instead of feeling like we were intruding on the farmer’s land, it felt more like we were intruding on Mother Nature. This was a very special place.

We then made our way back to the stream and got lost in our books for a few hours, occasionally looking up to notice the butterflies surrounding us, feel the sun on our faces and dip our toes in the cool water. Pure bliss.

Despite the current day friendly nature of Laos, the country has a not-so-friendly history. It holds the unfortunate designation of being the single most bombed country per capita in the world. During the Vietnam War, the U.S. dropped over 2 million tons of bombs on Laos (more tonnage than in all of World War II). The Ho Chi Minh Trail runs from North Vietnam south through Laos and Cambodia to South Vietnam, and was used in the Vietnam War by the North Vietnamese to supply troops and weapons to the South of Vietnam. During the war, the north denied its existence and the U.S. denied bombing it. As a result, close to 240 million bombs fell on Laos, and an estimated 80 million bombs failed to explode and remain scattered throughout the country.

Since the war ended, over 50,000 people have been killed or injured because of these unexploded bombs; one person is injured almost every day. Due to the extreme poverty that has since stricken Laos, the scrap metal trade of unexploded bombs is a profitable, yet horribly dangerous trade. A 700 pound unexploded bomb is worth $200-$300 for the raw metal, which is ½ of a rural farmer or teacher’s annual salary. On a positive note, there are programs in place to identify and remove the unexploded bombs and educate rural villages on the dangers of these explosives… but even so, it will take decades to safely identify and remove them all.

Final stop in Northern Laos: Luang Prabang

We arrived in Luang Prabang smack dab in the middle of the Chinese New Year, which means the city was bustling with WAY more tourists than usual… thousands and thousands and thousands of Chinese tourists. When arriving in a new destination, we like to mix it up between booking accommodation ahead of time and waiting until we get there to check out the options. We were aware of the Chinese New Year before getting to Luang Prabang, but the online options were slim. We decided to chance it and just show up…. and boy were we wrong. It took us 3 hours of walking around in the heat of the day in this charming city (didn’t seem quite so charming at the time), to find a place to stay. We ended up settling on one of the most expensive accommodations of our trip... but we relented, happily threw our bags in the room, and went exploring.

For $1 at the night market... we filled this bowl to the brim with fried noodles, fresh spring rolls, shrimp, veggies, and more. 

Named after an image of a Buddha image given to the king as a gift -- Luang (great or royal) Prabang (a Buddhist image) -- this city has been the source of monarchical power in Laos since the 1500s. When the official capital of Laos moved further south to Vientiane, the city entered a downward spiral of poverty, becoming weaker and weaker until it accepted help from the French in the late 1800’s. Fast forward 100 years, and Luang Prabang remained the royal capital until 1975, when the Pathet Lao communist forces seized power with North Vietnamese support and dissolved the ancient monarchy. The king and his wife were exiled to a different province, imprisoned and died from inadequate food supply and medical care. The Lao PDR government has yet to issue a full report on the royal family’s whereabouts following the revolution. 

Laos finally opened it’s doors for tourism in 1989, and Luang Prabang slowly blossomed back into the charming French-inspired city it once was. Restaurants, shops and art galleries sprang up on every corner of the city, placing Luang Prabang on the Unesco’s World Heritage list in 1995, playing a big role in preserving and enhancing the historic architecture.

The city sits at the convergence of the Mekong and Namkong rivers… booming with riverside cafes, swanky pubs, colonial architecture, fancy (read: expensive) coffee shops and to JJ’s delight… freshly baked pastries on every street corner. 

Like a kid on Christmas morning. 

A 20-minute tuk-tuk ride out of town takes you to the most popular tourist destination in Laos, Kuang Si Waterfall. We thought we had reached our quota of waterfalls (every city in SE Asia has a “waterfall” attraction, some better than others), but this one reinvigorated us and pumped out some raw beauty and power.

We found the not-so “secret” pools everyone tells you about at the base of the main fall, which boasts a 60 meter (200 ft.) cascade. We swam there for awhile looking up at the towering falls, and peering down at the ant-sized tourists taking photos of us from below.

As the sun rises over Luang Prabang every morning, a Buddhist alms ceremony takes place in which locals provide offerings (typically in the form of food) to monks who live in the temples around the city. We walked to the center of town at 6am one morning to check it out, and we were simultaneously humbled and revolted by the experience. 

It’s a beautifully historic practice, but unfortunately it has been tainted by disrespectful tourists cutting off the monks and flashing cameras in their faces, without even asking if they can take a photo. It was uncomfortable to watch and caused us to refrain from taking many photos, except from a distance. What saved the experience for us was sitting behind a group of three elderly local women who (we’re assuming) prepare sticky rice every morning for the monks and offer a blessing and a warm smile each time they give food.

After the alms giving we stumbled upon the local morning market, where restaurant owners shop for chickens, frogs, fish and the freshest selection of veggies for that day’s meal preparations. To the tune of birds chirping and the sharpening of knives, we admired the vibrant colors and smells… until JJ was slapped in the leg by a live fish being transferred from one bucket to the next and we decided it was time to leave.

We couldn’t afford to stay in Luang Prabang much longer… so we moved south, onto Vang Vieng. Check back in soon for part two of our love affair with Laos! 

xo,

Cam

[flossinginthesunshine]

From Chapati to Sticky Rice

People who have spent considerable time in India have repeated to us time and time again the same line, “India will change you.”  And to neither of our surprises, this turned out to be the case. Here are few examples:

We learned quickly that every day would be a challenge, and that nothing can be taken for granted in India. Getting from A-B, finding a restaurant, finding a pharmacy, finding a bathroom, heck even walking next to each other in a crowd can be tough in Delhi. Travelling here forces you to maintain a calm and composed state of mind even in the most trying of situations. Given that timetables and stated schedules are meaningless, letting yourself get flustered at the first hiccup can be a trip ruiner.

True Statement: If you can travel in India, you can travel anywhere in the world.

We experienced sensory overload pretty much every day. I’ve never been in a place that had so many smells, sights and sounds ricocheting off each other at all hours. While we continuously felt overwhelmed by this, we soon learned to appreciate the vibrancy of the everyday chaotic routine of India.

Living healthy is incredibly easy to do when you put yourself in a healthy environment. For two months we didn’t eat meat, rarely drank alcohol and didn’t consume dairy. Restaurants aren’t marketed as “vegan” or “farm to table”... they just are. We found ourselves sleeping incredibly well, practicing yoga nearly every day and reading more than we ever had in our lives. There is a reason that India is the yoga and meditation capital of the world… it is the perfect cure for the everyday chaos of living in such a country. Our New Year's resolutions are to continue this healthy lifestyle as we continue our travels and re-enter the “real world” in April.

India constantly reminded us that the best way to get our questions answered was by talking to other people. Finding information online, if it exists at all, is often outdated and incorrect. The blogs we were reading tended to be 3-4 years old, and many of the restaurants/attractions we went out looking for had inaccurate pins on Google Maps. Instead of burying our heads in our iPhones, we were reminded of the old fashioned way of asking for help. Human-to-human interaction, to no surprise, was our lifeline when we were lost or confused (which was often). Locals were more than willing to point us in the right direction after we showed them a restaurant/guest house on on phone, and a few times they even walked us where we needed to go (without asking for anything in return) just to make sure we didn’t get lost.

Most important of all: trust your gut. If you don’t like a guesthouse, leave. If you don’t trust a taxi driver, look for another. If a menu looks questionable, the food is probably also questionable & you should keep searching. Letting your gut and intuition guide the way is the only way to survive long term travel in India. Decisions should be made from the heart and from the gut, not because a guidebook says something or Trip Advisor suggests it. The best way to experience India is through an open mind and flexible schedule. Things will go wrong, and your ability to roll with it will make or break your trip.

When we get asked about out two months in India we speak in incredibly fond and honest terms. We say “It’s crazy. You should go. You need to go. If you are able to slow down & let things happen how they may, travelling in India will simultaneously astonish you, startle you, and ultimately, change you.”

See you later India!

And just like that… exactly two months from the day we landed in Ft. Cochin, India, we hit the road for Chiang Mai, Thailand! Our 21 hour travel day looked something like this:

Alarm goes off at at 2:30, 2:35 & 2:40am in Delhi 3am taxi from Delhi guesthouse to Delhi airport 6am flight from Delhi to Calcutta 4 hour layover in Calcutta 2pm flight from Calcutta to Bangkok 8pm flight Bangkok to Chiang Mai 20 minute taxi from airport to guesthouse Bed at 11pm

^^ That is a cricket :)

From the moment we were dropped off in front of our guesthouse in Chiang Mai, we were struck by the silence that surrounded us. People weren’t honking their horns, dogs weren’t barking, construction wasn’t being done on every corner… we could even walk side by side without the fear of being run off the road. Compared to Delhi, Chiang Mai felt more like Disney World than the second biggest city in Thailand. It was refreshingly eerie.

Chiang Mai is the capital of Northern Thailand, and one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. The charming “Old City” is a one-mile by one-mile grid, surrounded by a picturesque moat dating back to 1292. Buildings don’t rise above three stories, and there are cafes on every corner with reliably fast wifi. The developed, yet chilled out vibe of the city is what makes it one of the most frequented destinations for digital nomads and expats to settle in.

We spent our days exploring the city by pedal bike, and our nights eating street food at the market and listening to live jazz at a bar down the road from our guesthouse.

I ran a few times while in India, specifically in Goa, but gave up after being chased by dogs on more than one occasion. In Thailand I was able to run again, with the boundaries of the Old City creating a perfect four mile running path.

One afternoon we ventured into to the beautiful countryside for a traditional Thai cooking course. We arrived at an organic farm 30 minutes from Chaing Mai, and promptly went to work pounding green curry paste, stir-frying pad thai and chopping ingredients for papaya salad. After these dishes were cooked and eaten, we escaped to a set of hammocks overlooking rice paddies to sleep off our meal. An hour later, we were awoken by the chef to begin cooking our second round of food: fresh spring rolls and mango sticky rice. It was a successfully glutenous day.

7-Eleven's are on every corner in Thailand and are the perfect place to escape the heat (the AC is always on full blast). You can find everything from soy chocolate milk to fresh mango, and even pay for bus tickets at the checkout counter. Even the most run down 7-Eleven in Thailand is more helpful than most of our hostels were in India.

Almost equal to the number of 7-Elevens in Chiang Mai are the number of Thai massage parlors. In an effort to discern the quality establishments from the ones looking to prey on backpackers, we followed the suggestion of our guesthouse owners and went to their favorite place. A Thai massage is more in line with a 60 minute full body stretch session than a traditional western relaxation massage, which is why they get mixed reviews from travelers. The masseuse takes full advantage of their feet, legs, elbows and forearms in their attempt to stretch and contort our bodies into once thought impossible positions… and we loved  it. At $6 USD for a full hour, it is no surprise that I returned a few days later for a follow up.

One afternoon we took out 40-year-old rented bikes and ventured to the only public park in the Old City. To our delight, the park was in pristine condition and full of westerners doing acro yoga, tai chi, and slacklining. We spent the next few hours doing yoga, reiki, reading, napping and admiring the acrobatics going on around us.

I’ve been getting beard trims throughout our time abroad, but the time had come for a proper haircut. We asked our guesthouse for a recommendation, and after showing us on the map where the nearest place is, they warned us not to go after 5pm because that’s when the barbers start drinking. It was 7pm... and we decided to give it a go anyway.  When we showed up the whole family was having a big feast outside the parlor, complete with several bottles of alcohol scattered on the tables. They greeted us with big smiles and welcoming “Sawadees” (hello in Thai), and we asked, “Haircut?” A woman who looked like she hadn’t been drinking (too much) jumped up and led us inside. She threw a towel over my shoulders, we exchanged less than 10 words about what I wanted, and she started clipping away. Twenty minutes later, I had a fresh haircut and beard trim. If she had been drinking, she hid it well.

Once a quiet and somewhat remote town in Northern Thailand, Pai is now properly on the backpacker trail in SE Asia and can easily be accessed from Chiang Mai by a 4 hour minivan ride than includes 762 turns (they sell shirts in Pai say “I survived the 762 turns to Pai”). Once you make it through the harrowing journey, you are greeted by a delightful town full of vegan restaurants, reggae bars & backpacker bungalows. Pai tends to get a bad rap from old timers and long term travellers because of how rapidly it has changed over the last 10 years, but to us it was an oasis. The resort -- yes we stayed at a “resort” -- where we spent the week was 12 dollars a night for a private bungalow, which included a fabulous free yoga class each morning along with free breakfast.

We hiked one afternoon with our new friends from Auckland to a waterfall just outside of town. Per a few blogs online, we learned that a dog often serves as a tour guide on this particular hike. 15-minutes into the hike, a gorgeous pup strolls out of the woods and joins our ranks. For the next three hours Winston (as we named him) guided us through two dozen river crossings and patiently waited as we took photos at the waterfall. When we were ready to turn around and head home, Winston once again took the lead and showed us the way. Thanks for everything, Winston!

In Pai we went to the 12th Annual Pai Reggae Music Festival. Their were ads all over town highlighting the event, saying the festival was on Saturday and Sunday, started at mid-day and was located on the grounds of a specific hotel just outside of town. We popped the hotel name in Google Maps, saw it was a few mile walk from our place, and opted out of taking a taxi. After a 2.5 mile walk in the hills we made it to the festival!

Just kidding. Google Maps was wrong. We were nowhere near the reggae fest. We headed back into town, and ended up teaming up with other lost souls who were also searching for this mystical festival.

After another 2 miles, we finally made it! It was 4pm, and we soon learned that the festival didn’t start until 7pm. Our first question to ticket counter… “Why does your poster say mid-day?” Their response was, “Great question.”

We headed to the nearest restaurant to grab a beer, and found out that the entire restaurant was full of festival goers who also showed up too early and were now killing time playing cards, drinking beer and swapping travel tales.

We returned at 7pm with a whole crew of new friends, and boogied until midnight. Who doesn’t love Thai men singing in English with a Rasta accent? We sure did.

Camryn found a picture on Instagram a few weeks ago of a gorgeous sunrise in an obscure corner of Northeast Thailand that we hadn’t read about in any of our guide books. We asked a few people if they had heard of this magical place called Phu Chi Fa, and no one recognized the name. Immediately, we were intrigued. After two weeks in Chiang Mai and Pai, we were craving an off-the-beaten-track adventure. We got it, no doubt.

After a quick Google search, we read a few blog posts from travellers (dating back 4-5 years) saying that this town was their favorite in all of Thailand and not be missed. Details on getting there were hard to come by, as some said they took a bus there… others said the bus was no longer running and were forced to rent a motorcycle... some hired a private taxi. We chanced it on faith, and showed up at the bus station in Chiang Rai looking wide eyed for a sign saying Phu Chi Fa. And we found it :)

After a casual 3 hour bus ride, we were dropped off in front of a police station in a tiny village that only exists so people can visit the Phu Chi Fa mountain at sunrise. We read online that English is not spoken here, so we were all prepped and ready to use our hand signals and phone calculator to aid in bargaining. After a 15-minute walk down the only street, we found a gem of a guesthouse. We dropped our bags, ate a forgettable meal at a roadside restaurant by pointing at pictures of food on the wall, and went to bed early. Tomorrow’s adventure would come in only a few hours.

Our phone alarms greeted us at 3:30, 3:35, 3:40 and 3:45 am. We were out the door at 4am heading back to the police station to catch a songthaew (like a pickup truck with benches in the back) to take us halfway up the mountain. We were dropped within a 30 minute hike up to the top of Phu Chi Fa mountain, which we eagerly scampered up by headlamp with all of our warm clothes on.

 We were one of the first to the top, however within the hour nearly 300 Thai tourists joined us. Not another westerner in sight, to our delight. 

Trying to describe the sunrise would do its beauty a disservice, so I’ll just leave you with the pictures.

After a few hours enjoying the sunrise, we were back in front of the police station eating banana pancakes waiting for our bus to depart at 9am. Our next destination was Chiang Khong, a city on the border between Thailand and Laos. We arrived at our guesthouse in Chiang Khong and expected our $6USD a night room to be somewhat of a dump, and planned on heading into Laos the next morning. To our surprise, we were greeted by a gorgeous pool and fast wi-fi. Needless to say, we stayed two nights and spent a full day relaxing poolside. Treat yourself, right?

You’ll hear all about Laos in our next post by Cam. Thanks for reading!

Best, JJ

[flossinginthesunshine]

Finding Our Zen in Rishikesh

Nestled up in the foothills of the Himalayas on the banks of the Ganges River, Rishikesh is a charming town that attracts yogis and adventurers from around the world. It is free of meat, dairy and alcohol... making it the ideal location for people to focus on their spiritual and physical wellness. Regardless of where you are in Rishikesh, you are never more than a minute away from a yoga studio, a smoothie stand or a trekking service. 

It’s not hard to guess why we chose to soak up all of the good vibes in Rishikesh during our last three weeks in India. However, contrary to the healthy nature of this city... we spent our first 48 hours confined to the white walls of our hostel room. The evil demon known as “Delhi belly” had finally hit us. I’ll spare you the details, but after two miserable days of being sick, we were (nearly) convinced Rishikesh was the worst place in India and all we wanted to do was fly home. 

JJ described our feelings perfectly in a Facebook post:

The last week has been tough on Camryn and me. We have been both physically ill (the dreaded Delhi belly) and overwhelmed with homesickness, leaving us longing to be reunited with family & friends for the holidays. We are simply put....tired. Tired of being sick. Tired of being stared at without reason. Tired of people trying to pull us into their store/restaurant. Tired of shitty wi-fi. Tired of having to intensely check the seals of every water bottle we buy. Tired of dirty hostels and trains. Tired of the every day grind that comes with living in India. And in India.. you can't afford to be tired.

Travelling here has been equally rewarding as it has been challenging. We have made friends with incredible people, seen beautiful cities and been humbled by the intricacies and variety of the cultures in this country.

So, why travel if not for the pretty Instagram posts? I'd say it has do to with that restless feeling in your blood to be somewhat careless and do something crazy. The desire to break out of the routine, change your surroundings and rid yourself from the strains of everyday life.

We have spent so much of our time the past few days in our yurt nursing our bodies back to health, we have struggled with accepting all the hardship that is associated with living on the road. We've even kicked around the idea of leaving for Thailand early, with our tails tucked between our legs.

Needing to get some fresh air & perspective, we headed to our favorite cafe on the Ganges River for tea. As if the owners knew what we were going through, the cafe was playing my favorite Iron & Wine album....straight through. Reminder for life- never underestimate the incredible power of the right music at the right time. Sitting and watching the water roll by, I was patiently reminded, song by song, of how we got here and why it is the right place for us to be.

When we get back home, whenever that may be, I know it will still be home. Our minds and our spirits will be changed as a result of our travels, and home will still be there.

Why travel? Because it reminds you to be grateful for where you are and who you are with in life.

After a few days, we were finally feeling strong enough to leave the room (and it happened to be my birthday!) so we splurged on a white water rafting excursion down the Ganga. Luckily we had both been white water rafting before and knew at a high level what to expect, because it quickly became apparent that our guide didn’t speak any English. He gave the entire orientation and safety chat in Hindi... completely ignoring our presence. We nodded along, utterly clueless, and jumped aboard our small raft with a dozen Indian tourists.

For the next 24 km, our guide shouted the only English he knew: “PADDLE POWER” as we approached each rapid, indicating that we were supposed to paddle as hard as we could through the rapid. To our delight, the nine rapids we conquered were significantly larger than we had expected and it turned out to be quite an adventure.  

At one point, the guide motioned to the water and said (in Hindi) that we could jump in if we wanted to. The Indian tourists in the boat didn’t waste a minute diving right in, as it’s a big bucket list item for Indians to take a dip in the Ganges River. JJ and I on the other hand looked at each other in near horror, silently agreeing that we would not willingly float in freezing cold water that had quite recently melted from snow in the Himalayas.

All said and done, the gorgeous views and impressive rapids more than made up for the lack in communication, and we had a great time with an even better story to tell afterwards. As far as birthday celebrations go in India, I wouldn’t expect anything less. 

When we started planning our India trip back in July, Rishikesh was initially appealing as it is arguably the yoga capital of the world. While we would never call ourselves yogis before coming to India, we have both dabbled in yoga over the past few years and were excited to dive headfirst into something that has always intrigued us. 

We booked a five-day spiritual retreat at Sadhana Mandir Ashram, which we found online after a few hours of overwhelming Google searches. The retreat consisted of three yoga classes a day, a daily guided meditation session, philosophy of yoga lectures, vegetarian meals and silent hours between 8pm - 10am. We arrived at the peaceful property on the Ganges River a few miles outside of Rishikesh and promptly met our teacher for the week, a quirky 70-something-year-old women named Joy from Canada. 

We had our first yoga class an hour after arriving at the ashram, and quickly realized this retreat was not what we had expected. Here’s why:

Despite being Canadian, we could barely understand our instructor’s English due to her strong accent.  To make matters worse, our class was full of travelers who speak English as their second or third language... and they had a much harder time understanding her than we did. 

We didn’t get through one full sun salutation in the first 90-minute class. Once again, JJ and I are by no means accomplished yogis; however, at this point we had been practicing fairly regularly in India and we were craving a challenge... which we did not receive. 

The guru of this ashram is world-renowned for studying yoga and meditation in the Himalayas, and we were excited to learn more about his life, guided meditation and the philosophy of yoga. To our disappointment, the guided meditation and philosophical “discussions” consisted of us listening to recordings of the guru from the 80s, yelling at a crowd of followers for not appreciating the true practice of yoga. Not zen, not helpful, and in no way an enjoyable start or end to our days.

Our first reaction was to leave, but we decided to stick around for the next full day, having faith that it would get better. Unfortunately... it did not get better. We had yet to complete a full sun salutation, and it seemed that Joy moved from one pose to the next without any rhyme or reason. Maybe she was just winging this whole thing? Again, the thought of leaving continued to creep into our minds, and we couldn’t bear listening to the guru yell at us through a CD player one more time. 

There was a Brazilian couple in our class who were both yoga instructors, and once they confided in us that they were leaving the retreat early... we were motivated to make moves as well. We left that afternoon, checked into a guesthouse in Rishikesh and started searching for a new ashram.  

Ashram life round two: We had made a friend in Goa who studied yoga for three weeks in Rishikesh and highly recommended the Anand Prakash Ashram, so we promptly booked five nights there. Similar to the first one, the schedule consisted of morning meditation, two yoga classes per day, three vegetarian meals and silent hours. 

To our dismay, after two nights at this ashram… we wanted to leave again. Is there something wrong with us? Are our expectations too high? We couldn’t help but question why we weren’t feeling the zen that many people rave about in these environments… but it just wasn’t there for either one of us. The yoga classes here were a little more challenging, but still not what we were looking for. We were craving classes that are geared towards moderate beginners, with helpful adjustments made by the instructors… but these classes were geared towards people who had never taken a single yoga class before. There wasn’t any programming on the philosophy or foundation of yoga, which was something we were searching for... and everyone seemed to disappear during our breaks, resulting in no new friendships being made. 

I couldn’t help but feel perplexed at our experiences. It wasn’t until we met a woman at breakfast a few days later that I came to peace with our decision to leave both of the ashrams early. She was in her 50s and was in Rishikesh to renew her 200 and 300 hour yoga teacher training certifications. She informed us that many of the ashrams in Rishikesh cater towards people who come to India to practice yoga for the first time ever, and that what we were looking for probably required a personal yoga teacher (way out of our budget) or we needed to enroll in a yoga teacher training course (something we had never considered, due to our lack of experience). By the end of our conversation, I was feeling much better about our decision to leave early and inspired to enroll in a 200-hour teacher training course. I think I would have done it had we stayed in Rishikesh for another month. Maybe someday…

Despite our lackluster experience, the rooftop view at ashram number two was breathtaking. 

After our two failed attempts at ashram life, we found a yoga studio that had daily drop-in classes, and it absolutely kicked our butts. We started going to the ashtanga vinyasa class every morning at 9:30, attempting to mirror our tiny Indian teachers (more like magicians) who could bend themselves in all sorts of crazy positions. We had finally found a place that challenged us, and we didn’t miss a class the next two weeks (JJ even started going twice a day). As a result, he mastered his headstand and side crow, making for epic beach photos. That’s what yoga is all about, right? ;)  

In all seriousness, this yoga studio made us into significantly better yogis in just two weeks. We gained more control over our bodies, saw significant improvement in our flexibility, practiced new breathing and chanting exercises, learned how to count in Sanskrit... and found our tribe in the other travelers who attended class every day with us. We miss that place dearly, and hope to return someday. 

This was our humble abode at the Pyramid Cafe and Guesthouse for our last two weeks in Rishikesh. It may not look like much... but it was the coziest pyramid we’ve ever slept in. The temperature dropped under 40 at night, so we snuggled up with two very thick blankets and sported our hat and gloves most nights. 

The Pyramid Cafe was started by an eastern European man named Sleemy. He’s been in Rishikesh since the 60s, and built these pyramids by hand. He also wrote a wellness book with chapters on the benefits of spirulina, the dangers of immunizations and how to brew your own kombucha... among a hundred other health-related topics. Wearing only baggy pants and a thin cotton vest (sans shirt or shoes), Sleemy serves as the resident DJ every night... spinning trippy alien music and fixing the wifi when it goes out. Unfortunately, we forgot to take a photo of our new friend Sleemy.

We enjoyed most of our dinners at the Pyramid Cafe, indulging on liters of homemade kombucha (less than $2 / liter) and pyramid salads full of hand-picked veggies from the garden behind our cottage + topped with spirulina powder. For dessert, JJ would run down the hill to the German Bakery and pick up a vegan chocolate peanut butter ball. Over our last sips of kombucha, we’d sit around a bonfire, listening to live music and chatting with new friends. 

See why we never wanted to leave? 

The Pyramid Cafe also runs an animal shelter for abandoned street dogs. Female dogs are undesirable in India because no one wants to spend money to get them spayed, so the females are often kicked to the curb (or worse). This little nugget (named Pari, which means “angel” in Hindi) was the Pyramid’s most recent rescue. At only three weeks old, she was a fan favorite... even after she peed all over my scarf. 

We woke up around 7am each morning to birds chirping outside our pyramid, then casually made our way down the hill to the German Bakery. For some reason, Indians (ALL over India) think Germans make the best baked goods (apparently they’ve never never heard of France??) and every town we have been to over the last two months has had at least one German Bakery. We aren’t complaining, as the baked goods are delicious and this spot became an essential part of our morning routine. We joined our fellow yogis for breakfast before class every morning, ordering one Americano and a mixed veg stir-fry with cashew cheese and homemade pesto sauce for the two of us (total cost under $3). I still wake up every morning craving that breakfast...  

The street dogs and cows took quite a liking to JJ. 

Rishikesh is covered in signs and advertisements for spiritual workshops... from astrology classes to palm readings to sound healings and more. One poster in particular caught my eye: Smile Big Yoga + Reiki. 

Story time: when I was 13-years-old, I went on a family vacation to a dude ranch in Colorado. Just look at how well we fit in:

The Colorado altitude really affected me, and on the second day I was stuck inside the room with a debilitating migraine. My parents were talking about it over dinner that night, and a woman who was staying at the dude ranch overheard them. She said she was a Reiki master and offered up her services to help with my migraine, and they quickly accepted. I don’t remember much about the healing session, besides sitting upright in a chair in a dark room while she applied light pressure to certain parts of my head, neck and shoulders with the palm of her hands. Twenty minutes later... my migraine was gone and it didn’t come back the rest of the trip.

For the past 10 years, that story has stayed in my mind. You don’t hear about Reiki often in the U.S., but after seeing the poster in Rishikesh, I knew it was time to explore this mysterious healing practice. I scheduled an appointment for a Reiki healing session, and met Rossalyn the next day. Rossalyn is from the UK and has been doing Reiki and yoga for over 7 years, spending her last year in Rishikesh practicing Reiki on the rooftop of a gorgeous temple. It’s hard to explain the healing session, but after it was over, I felt as though I was in a magical bubble for the rest of the day. It also opened up a whole new channel of curiosity into my own spirituality. I had to learn more about this healing practice, so the very next day I signed up for my Reiki level 1 certification with Rossalyn. I spent two full days at the temple learning everything I could about Reiki, and I am now officially certified... meaning I can give Reiki to myself and others! 

At it’s core, Reiki is a healing technique that channels the universal life force from the healer to the patient... in order to restore physical and emotional well-being. Learning about this ancient Japanese practice surrounded by the energy of the Ganges River and the hills of the Himalayas was powerful to say the least. I plan to spend the next few months in SE Asia practicing Reiki on myself and JJ, and hopefully receive my Reiki level two certification somewhere along our journey.

A new travel friend of ours (hi Matthew!) once said, “India is not, as people keep calling it, an underdeveloped country, but rather, in the context of its history and cultural heritage, a highly developed one in an advanced state of decay.” I can’t think of a better way to describe the Indian culture, and this temple embodies that quote for me.

Watching the world go by. 

We spent Christmas Eve at a cafe owned by a woman from Denver, who has lived in Rishikesh for nearly 30 years. For the past ten years, she’s been hosting a Christmas Eve dinner party for travelers at her restaurant. Snuggled up on pillows and surrounded by new friends from Israel, Scotland, and New Zealand... we indulged on an amazing vegan Christmas meal complete with cheesecake, made with milk from the cow out back.

One of the biggest observations we made in India (especially in Rishikesh) is that nothing is advertised as “farm-to-table” or “vegan / vegetarian” or “organic / gluten free” -- everything just is all of those things. Before preparing most meals, restaurant owners run to the market (or to their gardens) and get fresh ingredients. And WOW can you taste the freshness. You also don’t pay twice as much to eat at these restaurants... if anything it’s cheaper! America: take note!! More veggies, more community gardens and more freshness please :)   

The owner (pictured in the back, with blonde hair), also runs a private school in Rishikesh, and she brought in some of her students to sing us Christmas carols after dinner. The little munchkins donned Santa hats and stumbled over the words to Jingle Bells, while I teared up in the corner thinking about home. We wrapped up the evening watching Elf on a big projector, and for a moment it felt like I was back in the Midwest having a family movie night. 

On Christmas Day, we attended a cacao ceremony. It was advertised all over town as an “out-of-this-world, life-changing experience.” The ceremony was held by an American couple who practice sound healing and tantra yoga all over the world. There were about 50 of us in a dimly lit room, sitting cross-legged and watching the couple prepare for the ceremony with candles, gongs and incense. We started the evening by drinking a cup of raw (and very hot) cacao, which is one of the strongest natural super foods you can consume. JJ and I both struggled to choke it down; it did not taste like hot chocolate, as I had naively anticipated, but rather had a throat-burning bitterness to it due to the amount of ginger mixed in. The next three hours consisted of group meditation, pranayama breathing exercises, kundalini yoga, and ecstatic dance. Our favorite part by far was the dancing. For an hour straight, we literally “danced like no one was watching” in a dark room full of strangers. It was a bonding experience like no other, and it felt good to let our freaky flags fly. 

‘Twas a Christmas we surely won’t forget for many years to come. 

Street-side beard trims for $2.  

Chai corner. Fun fact: we shared a cab with this artist on the way to Rishikesh from the train station. Check him out on Instagram @secordeiro_art !

We spent NYE like any other day in Rishikesh... going to breakfast at the German Bakery, followed by yoga and reading by the Ganga. That night, two of our new Australian friends joined us for a progressive dinner at our favorite spots. We ended the night cheers’ing with chai and sharing stories of how we’ve celebrated NYE in the past (much crazier than this one). It felt good to drink chai instead of champagne... to eat a vegan dinner instead of gorging ourselves on cheesy dips... to fall asleep at the stroke of midnight, instead of staying up way too late... to wake up naturally at 7am for yoga class, instead of waking up with a hangover. 

We set the intention to remember how we felt this day, and bring that feeling with us into 2017. Our New Year’s resolutions include: continuing to improve our yoga practices, eating organic foods as much as possible, and unapologetically spending our time doing things that make us happy.

One of the most frustrating parts about Rishikesh (and India in general) is the lack of hiking trails. Despite being the launching point to one of the greatest mountain ranges in the world, it is impossible to explore this gorgeous wilderness without a guide or tour group... and it left us missing the National Park System in the U.S. more than ever. In order to go trekking here, you must pay over $100/person and take an 8-hour bus ride to “hike” with a guide who doesn’t speak much English. We opted out of that option, knowing it would leave us disappointed... and promised ourselves that we’ll come back to northern India + Nepal for a proper hiking trip one day. We did manage to find one trail that lead to a pretty waterfall and scenic views... and we coped by telling ourselves we weren’t here to go hiking, and we would be satisfied with admiring the foothills of the Himalayas from afar. 

Side note: while these experiences make me grateful for our National Park Service, National Forest Lands, National Monuments and Bureau of Land Management in the States... I’m sad to say that I now fear for the future of our public lands under the guidance of Trump. Read up on these articles here and here to learn more. 

In another attempt to go hiking, our guesthouse owner told us about a cave where a holy baba lives. We walked up a road about 8 kilometers (India’s version of “hiking”), found the cave and introduced ourselves to the baba. While he didn’t speak much English, he gave us a tour of the cave and told us that when he has questions, he meditates in this cave for answers. At one point he asked if we were married (in conservative Indian culture our answer to this question is always yes), to which he started calling me his sister. Then while showing us his home, he rummaged through a pile of things next to what appeared to be a shrine and pulled out a 10 rupee note. Despite my objections, he insisted on giving it to me, followed by an unnecessarily long hug. 

While the hug never crossed the line into creepiness, I was very glad JJ was there with me. We still don’t fully understand why he gave me 10 rupees, but it felt weird keeping the money so we donated it to the animal shelter our guesthouse manages.

Babas and sadhus sometimes get a bad rap in India as posers who scam tourists, so I’m glad we had a good (albeit strange) experience with this gentle man. I just wish we could have learned more about his story. 

One final walk along Mother Ganga. 

Mailing postcards home. Check your mailbox, baby Ben! ;)  

Sunrise during our final train journey in India.

Oh India... while we won't miss your smells, stares, or the way you made us want to book flights home every other day... we will miss your authenticity, diversity in culture, friendly faces, gorgeous landscapes and incredible food.

You challenged us in ways we weren’t expecting and rewarded us in ways we will never forget. You changed our view of the world for the better.

You strengthened our travel legs, our relationship and our physical and spiritual bodies... and for that, we are forever grateful. We’ll be back again one day.

Namaste,

Camryn

And now a special note from JJ (our resident data analyst) on our finances + spending in India:

We get asked quite a bit by friends & family how we can afford to travel for so long & how we manage to keep an eye on our finances. Well, to answer all those questions and provide insight into our pocketbook, we have broken down every single penny spent during our 2nd month in India. We use a wonderful mobile app called TrailWallet to keep a tab on every purchase and allocate it appropriately in categories. May seem hard to believe that we traveled (and lived quite well!) for an average of $43 a day between the two of us, but it’s true. And the data is below to show just how we did it. 

India: 12/2/16 - 1/4/17 (34 days)

Total Spend: $1,437

Average Daily Spend: $42.29

Accommodation: We stayed in everything from beach bungalows, hotels, guesthouses, hostels & even pyramids. We always stayed in private rooms with an ensuite bathroom/shower.

Total Spend: $374.78

$11.02 per night average

26% of total spend

Food: Let’s be honest, food is one of our favorite parts of travelling. We ate incredibly healthy during our 2nd month in India, always enjoying 3 proper meals and a handful of snacks (fruit juices, smoothies, desserts, samosas... you get the picture).

Total Spend $465.19

$13.68 per day average ($3.42 per meal given 4 meals per day, lumping our daily dessert in w/ snacks throughout the day)

32.35% of total spend

Transport: Let’s see if I can recall all the modes of transportation we took in India... trains, buses, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, taxis, Ubers, boats, airplane.

Total Spend: $144.61 (28 line items)

$4.25 per day average (data point not as useful, as many days we didn’t spend money on this category)

10.06% of total spend

Entertainment: Majority of this category is museum/fort tours -- and yoga -- lots of yoga. Good thing a yoga class in India costs $3 USD :)

Total Spend: $255.75 (30 line items)

$7.52 per day average

17.19% of total spend

Shopping: Also known as as… ambiguous spending. Everything from hippie pants and tailored shirts to toothpaste and sunscreen.

Total Spend: $197.45 (31 items)

$5.81 per day average

13.73% of total spend

[flossinginthesunshine]

Forts, Temples and Chaos: Life in Rajasthan

Spending a month in the south of India was delightful. We went on hikes, lazily explored small towns, read a dozen books between the two of us and played in the surf to our heart's content. With the fear of getting “stuck” in Goa, as many travelers do... we hopped a plane (two planes actually) and headed north to Rajasthan to explore a whole different side of India.  

Boy were we in for a treat…..

We landed in Udaipur late at night, thanks to a four hour flight delay in Mumbai, and checked into our hostel which was described online as having a king bed, private balcony & view of the city. We walked into our incredibly small, cramped windowless room, saw a twin bed, didn’t even check for the nonexistent balcony, and crashed for the evening. We’d deal with this room situation after a few hours of sleep.

At 8 am, I walked downstairs and had the following conversation with the manager:

Me: Good morning. We booked a room with a king bed, private balcony and view of the city. Can you please switch us to the appropriate room? I’m sure it was just a mix up last night.

Manager: I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have any rooms with a king bed, private balcony or view of the city. You are in the only private room at this hostel.

Me: (As I take out my cell phone and show him the online description of the room we had booked) Excuse me? Are you saying this description….directly from your website….doesn’t exist? Why would you advertise a room that you don’t have even 1 of?

Manager: Sorry, sir. That room does not exist. Why are you upset? You are in our nicest, and only private room.

Me: I’m upset because we will be in this city for 5 nights, have already paid for the whole time. Per the fact that we were misled and lied to when we booked, I’d like our money back. We won’t be staying here.

Manager: Sorry, sir. You’ll have to speak with my brother about this. He doesn’t get in until 11am. Please come back in 3 hours.

Camryn and I left the hostel on a hunt for a better place to stay for our next four nights. We hopped on our phones, noted half a dozen nice properties we wanted to check out, and began our flustered and frustrating hostel tour of Udaipur. We bartered at a few places, and decided on a lovely hostel with a killer rooftop view of Lake Pichola. Now….to get our money back from our first property.

Walking in at at exactly 11am, the hostel manager was waiting for us with his brother. The following conversation took place:

Me: I’d like our money back for the next 4 nights, which we have already paid. I have explained to your brother all the reasons why.

Manager: Yes, he told me. Please tell me in your own words, again.

Me: (Repeated everything I told his brother in the morning). Per this situation, I’d like our money back.

Manager: Sir, we can’t do that. You are staying in our nicest private room. I’m not sure why you are so upset.

Me: Let me put this a different way. My girlfriend and I will leave you negative reviews on Trip Adviser, Booking.com, HostelWorld, Kayak & Agoda….if you don’t refund us our money. I’ll do my best to make sure every backpacker in India reads about our story. You advertised on your website having a room that doesn’t exist; that is not good business. 

Manager: Ok sir, you will need to speak with the main branch of the hostel. I can connect you with him over the phone. I don’t have any power to refund you money.

I’ll cut the dialogue short, but I ended up speaking with 2 different representatives from the hostel main office on the phone. I explained to both of them the story (now I've told my story four times and it’s not even 11:30am), to which both of them said, “Sorry sir, but why don’t you like your room? It’s the nicest private room we have.” I repeated my threat of leaving negative reviews all over the internet, and finally the top brass at the hostel agreed to a refund with my promise of staying quiet. That was that. We left the hostel and didn’t look back. What a mess. True to my word, I haven’t left any bad reviews.

Our new hostel was gorgeous and offered free chai at sunset every night, which we never missed.

On the roof one night we struck up a conversation with two Indian guys, Kunal & Chirag, who were playing chess. They were keen to talk politics, and were equally as troubled and confused at our nation's ability to elect a man (read: misogynist, racist, xenophobe and asshole) like Trump to office. After assuring them that it is safe to assume that any American they meet in India would never in a million years vote for Trump, they asked us the very question that we had been hoping for our entire trip.

Kunal: Would you like to go to a wedding tonight?

Camryn (before I could even process the question): Yes, absolutely yes!

Me: Are you sure it’s alright? We’ve never met the bride and groom before. They don’t even know we exist.

Chirag: It’s no problem at all. We’re best friends with the groom, and we’ve never even met the bride. They would be honored to have you both there. Don’t worry about a thing. You’ll be a guest on the groom's side, and it’s pretty much a battle to see which side can invite more people.

Camryn: Wow, alright. We don’t have any nice clothes. Is that an issue?

Chirag: No problem. We’ll text you the address. Be ready at 5:30. Get ready to drink….and dance…. a lot….seriously.

Me: You got it!

5:30 quickly became 6…..which became 7….which became 8…..at which point they finally said the wedding was starting and we could hop in a taxi. Apparently….Indian weddings never run on time, and the fact that this one was only 3.5 hours late was quite impressive.

^^^ our fancy wedding shoes

We arrived just as the parade of music and dancing was getting started. A small truck with very large speakers lead the procession and blasted what sounded to us like obnoxious carnival music as loud as it possibly could without blowing a speaker. 

Kunal and Chirag informed us that their only job that night, as the groom’s best friends, was to dance like mad during this procession. We joined in and were welcomed with open arms into the craziness.

The groom was riding on a horse at the back of the procession, looking completely bored. He was on day three of non-stop wedding “celebrations” and had to sit on a horse (sober) while he best mates partied in the street.

A few additional Indian wedding traditions: 

As soon as the groom enters the reception area and dismounts his horse, the bride’s mom attempts to grab his nose to represent the fact that he’s now under her control.

The wedding serves as one big competition for the bride’s friends and the groom’s friends... where they pull pranks on each other (like stealing each other’s shoes) throughout the three day celebration. 

The actual ceremony that represents the legal marriage in Hindu weddings involves the bride and groom completing seven circles around the Holy Fire and doesn’t typically take place until the wee hours of the morning (typically between 3-5am) on the third and final day of the celebrations. 

After the parade, we went up to the hotel roof (where Camryn was the only female present) and drank whisky for several hours, chatting with Kunal and Chirag’s friends from MBA school (some of whom own very successful tech companies), and grilled them with questions about modern Indian culture. We then made our way back to the reception and jumped on stage to get our photo taken with the bride and groom. We wrapped up the evening sampling a buffet of cuisine from all over India before saying goodbye to our new friends around 1am. This was surely a night we soon won’t forget! The hangover, however, lasted almost two days.

Aside from the wedding excitement, we spent most of our time in Udaipur drinking chai, visiting local markets and reading at roof top cafes. Udaipur, nicknamed the City of Lakes & and the Venice of the East, is a beautiful place to watch the world spin by.

Greeting us each time we entered or left the hostel was an exhausted dog mom and her seven adorable puppies. She recently gave birth, and they all lived under the porch of our hostel. Camryn spent a few minutes every day playing with these cute fur balls.

Always on the hunt for authentic experiences (which is sometimes tough, as we stay in the safer, touristy areas of cities) we found our way to Sukhadiya Circle, which was described online as being the real deal for street food. True to the word, we were the only white people walking around and none of the menus were in English. We happily resorted to pointing to other customers dishes, signifying that we too wanted to order that. We enjoyed the scene so much that we returned two nights later.

The town of Pushkar was next on our list. After surviving a 15 hour train ride in Kerala, we were feeling brave enough to book a lower class train car to save a few dollars. “Second Sitting”, is the term for this class, and it essentially means you are guaranteed a seat, but it is a free for all as to which seat you get. Think of the starting line of a Thanksgiving Day 5k….everyone cramming their way to front waiting for the gun to go off. Except in this case, the starting line is actually the arriving train finally come to a stop, and everyone at the same time forcing their way on and off the train... in an attempt to claim the best seats. We somehow secured window seats and thought we were golden. As it turns out, a family of seven joined us (they crammed into 4 seats) at the next stop. The grandma took a special liking to Camryn, and decided to sleep on her shoulder for the majority of the ride. It was a memorable five hours, that’s for sure.

The dreaded stomach bug hit me upon arriving in Pushkar, and knocked me out for an entire day. Camryn is convinced I had the 24 hour flu…. I’m unsure….but I do know that for one full day I didn’t leave the bedroom, except to crawl to the bathroom.

Once back on my feet, we explored Pushkar and found it be a much smaller version of Udaipur. More rooftops, more chai, more reading….see a theme here? Pushkar is the best place in India to purchase hand sewn wall hangings, and we had been looking forward to this for quite a while. After expressing our interest in a few different pieces in one small shop, the owner invited us to sit down for a chai so we could get to know each other. After chatting for a bit about America & India, and finishing our chai, the bargaining process started. How nice would it be if before any purchase in America, the salesman said, “Hey, let’s pump the brakes and have a chai before we start this process. I’d like to get to know you. What’s the rush, anyway” What a beautiful process!

Jaipur… our first big city. Unable to walk side by side in fear that we’d get hit by a car, we opted to take tuk-tuks most places during our two days here. We hired a tuk-tuk driver for an entire day so we could see a few forts & temples, at the lovely cost of 600 rupees (9 US Dollars). Our favorite part of the day was Monkey Temple. Per the name, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of monkeys scattered around the few acre complex. This man pictured below has come every afternoon for the last 25 years to feed the monkeys, and we were lucky enough to catch one of the feedings.

The Taj Mahal… the crown jewel of India. You’d be hard pressed to find a single person who has traveled to India and NOT seen the Taj Mahal. Located in the town of Agra, the Taj is the the sole tourist attraction. Accurately described by every traveler we met on our trip, Agra is “an absolute shit hole of a town.” Get in….see the Taj….and get out as soon as you can is the motto of Agra. The Taj Mahal lived up to the hype; it was unbelievably gorgeous. I’ve never seen a man made structure quite like the Taj before, and doubt I ever will. 

Here’s a quick story of the Taj:

The Taj Mahal was built by emperor Shah Jahan in 1648 as a memorial to his favorite wife after she died giving birth to their 14th child. As a result of spending nearly all their money on this one structure, the emperor's son put him in prison and he watched from his jail cell as the Taj was constructed over the course of the next 20 years. He died in prison and was finally reunited with his true love beneath the marble floors of the Taj Mahal.

Something interesting to note about Indian trains is that the doors leading outside never lock. While the train is chugging along at full speed, people are sitting with their legs dangling out the car and their face in the breeze (think of a car driving high speed down the highway with a puppy hanging out the window). To make things even funnier, trains in India are often delayed mid-trip, and people simply get off the train and chill outside. Whenever there is an unplanned stop, which have ranged so far for us from 5 minutes to 90 minutes, people just hop off. The train doesn’t make any announcement when it starts moving again...it just...starts moving. Similar to the mad rush of people trying to get the best seat at the beginning of a trip, people sprint to get back on the moving train in fear of being left behind. It’s odd….but somehow….. it works. This reminds me of a conversation we had with an Irish family in Udaipur. The wife, who happens to be of Indian heritage, told us something her father used to say as she was growing up. “I know there is a God, because somehow, things in India always work out. I can’t tell you how or why they they always work out….they just do. That is how I know God exists.”

When most people think of India….the chaos, the poverty, the all out assault on one's senses….they are describing Delhi. After a quick 36 hours in Delhi, we can report that the city lives up to the hype. We took the train to Delhi, and the hour leading up to our final stop we were glued to the windows. We soon grew numb to the sight of full grown men going poop on the side of the tracks. We saw everything from children playing on top of massive trash piles to stray dog carrying half eaten dogs in their mouths. We spent one full day touring around Delhi, and that was plenty. The combination of trash being burned on the sidewalks with the heavy smog and pollution creates an unhealthy environment to spend even one day in. We had one goal in Delhi: survive. We accomplished our goal and quickly made our exit out of a city that we have no need to return to ever again.

Until next time!

JJ

[flossinginthesunshine]

Two Weeks in Paradise: Arambol Beach, Goa

After our fast-paced 2-month road trip in the United States and whirlwind introduction to southern India, where we were traveling to a new place every 2-3 days, the concept of “vacationing” seemed foreign. We struggled making the simplest decisions our first few days in Goa: where should we go for breakfast? Should we do yoga today? I’ve already put on sunscreen three times... should I put it on a fourth time or should I go inside? I’ve been reading for 3 hours... should I do something else now? Is it okay that we aren’t going to a new city every few days? Once we were able to slow our bodies down into vacation mode, we settled into a peaceful routine that was quite difficult to leave.

Quick history lesson: Goa was occupied by the Portuguese until 1961. Then very loosely controlled by the Indian government, it’s pristine beaches, jungle escapes and island vibe lured in travelers from all over the world. The lack of policing and beautiful landscape gave rise to drum circles, recreational drug use, trance music, and lots of partying.  As the original beaches (Anjuna and Baga) become more and more touristy, the hippie scene moved an hour north to Arambol Beach, known for being less commercialized and much more chilled out… precisely why we chose it as our home base for the next two weeks.

Getting there: The only thing standing between us and Arambol Beach was a 15-hour overnight train ride. Our first railway adventure resulted in us boarding the wrong train and frantically running back to the platform once we realized the mistake... so we were determined to get this one right. We splurged for an air conditioned train car with six berths (beds), and we each had an upper berth for the night. Our train car companions were a very friendly Indian family who happen to be living in Atlanta and currently visiting family back home on holiday. After a quick Indian dinner, we made our beds, climbed up onto our cozy berths, and got a solid 6 hours of sleep. Everyone told us the Indian railway system was something we had to experience at least once and then do our best to avoid, but we both loved it and are already looking forward to several more long, peaceful train rides.

Our humble abode: We arrived in Arambol at noon the next day to a guest house that boasted online having beautiful rooms and a “beach view”, but in reality just had a ton of mold on the ceiling and a tiny view of the sea if you stood in one small corner of the room and stretched your neck out the window. Feeling discouraged, we took a deep breath, left our stuff in the room and set out to find a new place. We stumbled upon a row of simple huts on a private, rocky beach away from the craziness of the main area, and prayed that the price would fit our budget. We quickly found the manager and somehow negotiated a price that was lower than our moldy guesthouse. We shook hands and came back at 10am the next day, ready to move in for the next ten nights.

Only thing that’s missing is a hammock. We’ve yet to find a good hammock in India, but I know it’s here somewhere. 

What we’re reading: JJ is a speed reader and has gone through seven books since we’ve been in India: Go Set a Watchman, Motorcycle Diaries, Hustle, Jailbird, Hotel K, India After Gandhi, and Born to Run. I’ve completed Behind the Beautiful Forevers, My Year of Eleanor, Living with Intent, and First They Killed My Father. Any suggestions for us? Send them our way!

Morning routine: We started almost all of our mornings with a 3-5 mile run on the beach followed by our favorite breakfast: two black coffees and fruit salad, muesli, curd and honey. To JJ’s delight, we also watched the Gilmore Girls revival every morning. The only thing I’ll say about it is that I will forever be #TeamJess :) 

Yoga: With studios on every street corner, rooftop and beach… Goa is a yogi’s dream. From iyengar to hatha to acro, there’s something for everyone here, and we dabbled in it all. My favorite class was an acroyoga course at the Garden of Peace (pictured above; our instructor Nicholas is in the blue). Much to our surprise -- and probably to all of yours -- we successfully executed “throne pose” and walked out with our legs shaking and our confidence a little higher.

Lazy afternoons: We spent our afternoons on the beach... reading, eating fresh papaya from our melon guy, and perfecting my frisbee throw. We’re up to 250 throws in a row now -- definitely a resume builder. 

The shopping: The shopping in Goa is unavoidable. The streets are lined with overflowing stalls of patterned dresses, alibaba pants, embroidered purses and beautiful jewelry. After my initial reaction of “omg I want it all” I quickly realized that it’s really all the same stuff, so we went searching for something a little more unique. 

Still getting used to dodging cows in the middle of the street. Are they stray cows?! Do they belong to someone?? The verdict is still out... 

We found a gemstone man from Tibet who makes beautiful macrame jewelry and proceeded to spend 45 minutes in his shop looking at nearly every single stone he had + reading the corresponding meanings. JJ chose a rectangular tiger’s eye (for strength and protection), and I went with a teardrop azurite (for intuition and spiritual guidance). We came back the next day and collected our handmade necklaces and haven’t taken them off since. 

Scooter saga: On our second day in Goa, we rented a scooter so we could venture to a different beach for the Saturday Night Market: a bustling market full of food, shopping and live music. I had been looking forward to this market since we first started researching Goa.

To rent a scooter, we walked down the main village street asking owners of shops and guesthouses until we found a man who said they had one very old scooter available. We were shuffled into a garage with 12 Indian guys where we bartered quite quickly over the price:

Us: “How much for 24 hours?”

Them: “400 rupees.”

Us: “How about 300?” (just under $5)

Them: “Deal.”

After (reluctantly) handing over my passport, we now had a scooter and two helmets for the next 24 hours. I’m completed appalled at the lack of helmets in India. When we do see a helmet, only the driver is wearing one... not his wife or his three kids who are riding on the back of the scooter. Although these guys looked at us funny when we asked for two helmets, I was not about to walk out of there without them.

Off we went... zooming in and out of motorcycles, dodging street cow, and trying not to have a panic attack. After 45 minutes of successfully maneuvering the chaos, Google maps told us we had arrived at the market, but instead we were starting at a very large and very empty field that looked like the perfect location for a night market. A guy selling coconuts on the side of the road told us the market hadn’t opened for the season yet. Cue disgruntled groans and a large sigh of disappointment. He then asked if we wanted to buy a coconut. 

At this point, we were both hungry (breaking our number one rule that neither one of us are allowed to get hungry), frustrated and on edge after a stressful ride... so we rode off in search of something to eat. Three hours later, we returned home and decided to stick to using our own two feet for the rest of our time in Goa.

The sunsets: are breathtaking. Cloudless days lead to clear nights, where the sun becomes a ball of neon fire as it dips down into the Arabian Sea. We spent most evenings on our front porch, chatting with neighbors, drinking a beer or two and watching the sky change colors. 

The drum circle: an Arambol ritual from the 70s where travelers (some who now call Goa their home, and some just passing through) converge at a specific spot on the beach every night at sunset and play music that doesn’t appear to be directed by anyone, yet sounds perfectly in sync. Naked babies dance in the middle, a flame thrower practices off to the side, and local artisans sell their crafts on the beach. The vibe was perfect, the sense of community was strong, and for a few minutes each night we were completely mesmerized.

Dinner: “Do we want Indian tonight? What about momos? Let’s go to that place with really good mint tea.” The food options in Goa were endless, delicious and cheap. Wherever we ended up, we’d take off our shoes and lounge for several hours... sometimes with friends, sometimes alone, and always with our deck of Bonnaroo playing cards (we play lots of Gin).

Our guilty pleasure: the World Peace German Bakery. Home to the third best pie I’ve ever had, after my grandma’s mandarin orange and my grandpa’s apple. At first, we were frequenting the German Bakery every night after dinner, mixing it up between mango pie, chocolate banana pie, and apple pie. But even our morning runs weren’t keeping up with the amount of pie we were consuming, so we cut it back to every other night. We’re on vacation, right?! This photo was taken on Thanksgiving... enjoying a little slice of home in this slice of apple pie. 

And there you have it! Somehow we filled out eleven days with running, yoga, reading and pies....and it was beautiful. 

Where to next: The holy city of Udaipur, in the northern state of Rajasthan. Also known as the Venice of the East, the City of Lakes, and home to way more people and chaos than we’ve been used to in the south. Send good vibes and check back in soon!

Camryn 

[flossinginthesunshine]

Traveling Spoon: Travel Off the “Eaten” Path

Just weeks before leaving for India, one of JJ’s friends from Butler University (Kimberly) reached out to us about an awesome start-up company called Traveling Spoon. The company was founded by two women from Stanford out of their love for travel and food... and they strive to connect travelers to locals over a shared meal. Given my previous job working at a food start-up striving to connect people over family dinners, I was more than intrigued. Through the Traveling Spoon website, you can book personal culinary experiences with locals from all over the world... including a market visit, cooking class, and a hearty meal. 

Kimberly and her husband are currently traveling for 12 months (you can follow their adventures at http://dgkimberly.com/), and throughout their travels they’ve been serving as Traveling Spoon ambassadors. Ambassadors are used to personally vet each host before the host can be listed on the website (such a great idea, resulting in only the best hosts). As soon as we heard Traveling Spoon was in need of ambassadors in India, our immediate response was, “how do we sign up?” We had a quick Skype call with Neha, the regional Traveling Spoon director for India, where we tried not to sound too eager at the chance of being ambassadors... and just like that, we had our first assignment! We were scheduled to have lunch with a man named George on our third day in India, just outside of Fort Kochi in the state of Kerala.  

We had no idea what to expect as we left the hectic streets of Fort Kochi towards the peaceful countryside of Kerala, passing by spice plantations and prawn farms. We arrived at George’s home mansion and stared in disbelief at the gorgeous property around us. The home was built in 1885 by George’s ancestors and was surrounded by spice gardens. The stunning Keralan + Portuguese style architecture boasted intricate woodwork, multiple courtyards and a family crest from the early 1800′s. 

We were greeted with fresh lime juice and escorted to the guest kitchen, where George’s smiling wife held the cooking demo. On the menu: chicken stew, vegetable stir fry, and appam: a crepe-like dish made with rice batter and coconut milk. 

Over the next hour, we fulfilled our Traveling Spoon ambassador duties by asking a million questions and taking even more photos. This meal was our first deep dive into the world of South Indian spices... and since then, we can’t get enough. Everything we cooked with came straight from the garden out back... including cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, turmeric, clove, garlic, chili powder, coriander, mustard seeds and peppercorn. Phew.  

While cooking, we learned about the Indian tradition for the youngest son in the family to take over the family business after his parents retire; George is the youngest in his family, so he inherited the family home. He has since converted it into a guesthouse, where he organizes tours throughout Kerala and offers group cooking classes. He also rents out the property for weddings and film sets... a Bollywood move was recently filmed in the garden, and they brought in an elephant for a week! George has three kids of his own, and his youngest son plans to take over the operation after George retires.

We sat down to eat and were pleasantly surprised by the additional dishes they brought out for us... fish (JJ’s fave), beet root (my fave), more veggies, and rice. The fish was marinated in red chili, wrapped in a banana leaf and fried... and it tasted even better than it sounds. About halfway through the meal, JJ accidentally ate an entire green chili and tears proceeded to run down his face without any sign of stopping. George’s wife graciously brought out our dessert early (vermicelli pudding: vermicelli noodles in a sweet vanilla milk pudding spiced with cardamom... YUM) in an attempt to ease his pain. We could barely finish our plates and wished we could have taken it all home in a to-go box. This was by far one of the top three meals we’ve had in India to date.  

We couldn’t have asked for a better way to kick off our first week in a new country. We were completely spoiled by George and his wife, and feel so thankful to have had the opportunity to be Traveling Spoon ambassadors. I urge you to check out this amazing company next time you travel! 

For more information or to book a culinary experience of our own, visit www.travelingspoon.com :) 

Bon appetit!

Camryn

[flossinginthesunshine]

Strikes, Stabbings & Samosas: Our First 10 days in India

Our flight from Chicago to Delhi left on time at 2:30pm and we lucky enough to have an open window seat next to us. Gold for a 15 hour flight!  Midway through our 3rd movie, we were startled when they turned on all the lights (we hadn’t even realized they were off) and began serving breakfast. We soon learned that Air India flights go by local India time when deciding when to serve meals and turn on/off the lights. As our bodies were going to sleep, the plane was waking up. 

After a quick layover in Delhi, our final flight landed in Kochi, in the state of Kerala, near 11pm. We had arranged via our hostel owner to have his personal driver pick us up at the airport, as to do our best to avoid any possible scams before we have our full travel legs and minds working. Waiting right outside the airport was a man with a sign reading ‘MR JOHN JOSEPH’, and boy were we relieved.

After an hour in the car, the driver turned around and asked, “which hotel are you staying at?” Um… excuse me? Aren’t you the personal driver for the owner of our hotel? We told him we were staying at the Dream Catcher Home Stay… he looked confused… said a few things in Hindi we didn’t understand… and continued on down the road. After a few minutes I spotted a sign pointing us down an alley to our hostel, and we were home. Our shirtless and extremely overweight hostel owner, Bernard, greeted us after we banged on the gate and he showed us to our room. Bernard also turned out to be quite an asshole, as my TripAdvisor review will adequately portray when I actually get down to writing it.

We spent our first few days exploring Fort Kochi while our bodies adjusted to being in India. We poked around the markets, watched the local fisherman use an ancient Chinese technique to catch fish, attended a local Kathakali dance performance (quite strange) and sampled as many fresh juices as we could put down. Our favorite restaurant in Fort Kochi, where we ate at three times in five days, has six tables on the second floor and the kitchen on the first. You know your food is almost ready when the smoke and smells start to creep through the rafters.

After five days in Fort Kochi we had pretty much done everything there was to do in the city and began to feel like locals in a small way. We had made friends with the local corner store owner, Willie, befriended an Indian woman and her British husband who put on an amazing yoga class and make delicious Kombucha, and learned our way around so that we weren’t glued to our phone maps any more.

Munnar is four hours by car inland from Kochi, and we had arranged for a private taxi to take us there. We had kicked around the idea of taking the local bus, but thought it wise to play it safe for our first A → B in India and do the typical western thing (many westerners avoid public transport in India, and opt instead for private taxis and buses geared towards westerners). Despite our best efforts at playing spoiled tourists, we received a call from the taxi company the night before we were due to depart saying “We can’t drive you any more. All taxis and rickshaws are going on strike against Uber.” I hung up confused. Scams are everywhere in India, but what kind of scam starts with a “As much as I’d like to take your money tomorrow, I won’t be able to.” After a quick Google search, we learned it was true. Uber had just come to Kochi a few months ago, and the local taxi community was up in arms (someone even got stabbed that night at the protest).

Cam and I spent the next two hours reading blogs and articles on how to take the public bus from Kochi to Munnar. We had checked, rechecked and verified with our hostel owner that we had all the right information, and we went to bed confident.  Well, like most things in India, transportation is never as easy as it should be. We walked 2km to a boat ferry, enjoyed a 20 minute ferry ride (4 rupees each) and walked a final 3km to the bus station. We walked right up to the ticket counter, and this is the conversation that occurred.

Me “Hi. Can I please have 2 bus tickets on the Volvo Low Floor A/C Bus to Munnar leaving at 9am?”

Employee “This is a train station. There are no buses.”

Me “Excuse me?”

Employee (in perfect English): “Look around. Do you see a single bus?”

Me “Oh, you are right. Where is the bus station?”

Employee (laughing): “3km up this road.”

Me (Flustered and overwhelmed): “OK, thanks.”

As it turns out, every article and blog post we had read had still sent us to the wrong station. Not a one had mentioned a different bus & train station. Good thing we had planned on being there 90 minutes early. We scurried on our way, glued to our phone map once again, and found the correct bus station.

Munnar is a lush, green hill station tucked away in the rolling tea plantations of South India. Even after five days in an Indian city (albeit, a small city by Indian standards), we were relieved to be back in nature. Munnar is known for its tea plantations, as Tata, a global company with branches in about every industry conceivable, has been in Munnar for the last century employing almost the entire town of 60k people.

We organized a trek through our home stay and spent a full day with our local guide, Alvin, hiking up and down hills, learning all about spices, coffee & of course tea. Both of Alvin’s parents have worked on tea plantations their entire lives, and earn less than $5 a day picking tea leaves.

While in Munnar, we received an email from the U.S. State Department informing us that the Indian government had decided to take all 500 and 1000 Rupee notes out of circulation, and that they would be unusable within a few days. Panic is the only word to aptly describe the scene at the banks & ATMs over the next 72 hours. Hotels, restaurants, hospitals, shops… they all refused to accept old 500 and 1000 rupee notes, forcing people to exchange all old notes at the banks and withdraw new currency from ATMs. As we could have expected, ATM’s ran out of money by noon… banks were overrun with angry locals panicking because they couldn’t pay for basic necessities… and we were left holding completely worthless bills. It’s also worth noting that no one accepts credit cards in India.

We went to the bank to exchange our current bills and found our way to the bank manager’s office with a dozen other westerners, asking him pleading with him to help us since no bank teller spoke English, we had no clue which line we were supposed to be in, which forms we had to fill out and where to go with said form. We quickly learned that we needed to make copies of our passport, and headed back out into the streets to find a local version of Kinkos. After an hour of waiting in line there, we headed back to the bank manager’s office, waited some more, until he finally came to our rescue and helped exchange our bills. PHEW. The whole process took about three hours. We left sweaty and pining desperately for a cold beer. Unfortunately Kerala (along with most of India) is a dry state and we haven’t had a drink yet.

Four hours south of Munnar, again via public bus, we spent a day hiking in Periyar Tiger Reserve, one of the largest national parks in India. PTR is one of the most talked about places to visit in all of Kerala, and is regarded as the best place to get close to wildlife in their natural habitat in India. It took us only a few minutes in the reserve to realize how much of a tourist trap this place was; the entrance fee alone is over 10X for westerns compared to what Indians pay.  We soon learned that despite the name of “Tiger Reserve”, there are only a few tigers in the park, and there are only an average of six tiger sightings per year. We trekked all day and saw one deer from a quarter mile away. Despite the lack of wildlife, we thoroughly enjoyed the 2 hours we spent reclining on a bamboo raft going across a lake.

Through our first 10 days in India, we have learned a few things:

1. When a building calls itself a hotel, it actually means restaurant. A hotel will include words such as: room, A/C, non A/C, WiFi and Government Approved.

2. TripAdvisor reviews have to be carefully vetted. A review from a westerner carries a much different value than a local Indian visiting from Delhi. Here is an example of how these differences can manifest in a review of Periyar Tiger Reserve:

Indian review: Periyar was the highlight of my trip to Kerala! This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and I was sad to only have one day in the park. The guides were knowledgeable and pointed out great wildlife.

Westerner review: Don’t waste your time coming to Periyar. The guides don’t speak English, the prices are ridiculously high, and I have seen more wildlife in my backyard in Illinois than I did in Periyar.

3. We are still working to understand the difference between masala tea and chai masala. Indians tend to put milk in pretty much everything, and we have struggled to get tea (and coffee) without it. Chai means tea with milk, and masala is simply a blend of spices. Masala Tea shouldn’t have milk, but depending on the vendor, it’s a toss up as to what we will get. It is possible to blame it on the fact that no one understands what we are ordering, and they just give us chai every time. We’ll keep you updated on our quest for the perfect tea.

4. Indians take their lines very seriously.  If there is more than six inches between you and the person behind / in front of you, they may feel that this provides ample room for someone else to cut in, and they’ll quickly close that gap. Personal space isn’t high on people’s priority list, as we soon learned in our few hours spent at the bank & ATM.

Our first week or so in India has been incredibly eye opening. From the sights to smells to the pure madness of street intersections, it is hard to adequately describe what life is like here. While the everyday mundane decision (where to buy water, where to grab breakfast, where the bus station is) is a chore in and of itself, we have been blown away by the friendless and kindness of the locals we have met. Everyone seems to be more than happy to help out the lost looking white person, especially the women who sat right next to Camryn for 30 minutes to make sure we got on the right bus.

Ten days in, and we’re only getting started!

PS: To all you worrywarts out there, neither of us have gotten the stomach bug yet! It may be an unavoidable reality later on, but right now we are 10/10 on the health scale. Let’s see how long we can keep this up for.

[flossinginthesunshine]

Tourists & Aliens

With the car all fixed, we hit the road and drove to one of the most photographed locations in all of the Southwest: Horseshoe Bend.  Despite our hope of watching the sunset over the Colorado River, we quickly learned that the time had changed back to PCT (as we were now in Arizona) and we were well over an hour early before the sun would dip. We snapped a few photos, laughed quietly at the hundreds of tourists getting off of huge buses and got back in the car. Next stop: Grand Canyon National Park.

The Grand Canyon welcomed 5.5 million people in 2015, with the average person spending 3-5 hours in the park. From a 1997 article in the Chicago Tribune, the average visitor only looks at the actual canyon for 17 minutes (the rest is spent in transit, in the gift shop, at the bar, etc).

After a cold night camping in Kaibob National Forest, (which is actually within the boundaries of the National Park and closer to the rim than the paid campsites that book up six months out), we arrived at the backcountry permit office at 7:30am to wait in line. We were on the hunt for the ever elusive Grand Canyon backcountry camping permit, of which they only extend 20 per day. We waited (somewhat patiently) as a dozen people got called up before us… and just like that, we snagged the very last site for the following night! Hooray. We celebrated by cooking a huge breakfast and taking in the view.

The following day we hiked down South Kaibob Trail, which is 7.5 miles long and descends 4,800 feet into the canyon. The hike, hardest on our knees and ankles, took just shy of 3 ½ hours. We set up camp along Bright Angel Creek, ¼ mile from the Colorado River and with sweeping, unobstructed views of the high canyon walls.

Having camped the last six weeks in freezing nightly temperatures, we brought all our warm clothes down in the canyon with us. To our surprise, the bottom of the canyon is typically 30 degrees warmer than at the rim. At night the temps were around 60, and during the day it reached to 97 degrees. Good thing the Colorado River is freezing cold and cools you off quick!

We camped for two nights in the canyon, spending our second day hiking to Ribbon Falls. We headed off to Ribbon Falls with our usual list of supplies: first aid kit, trekking poles, camera, 2 ½ liters of water each, 1 sandwich each, 2 energy bars each. Not accustomed to hiking in sweltering heat, we quickly realized we’d have to ration our water and snacks to last the whole day. We survived…. albeit in a bit of a dehydrated daze.

On day three we hiked out. The south rim of the Grand Canyon, via Bright Angel Trail, is 9.5 miles long and involves 5k feet of elevation gain. It was grueling, sweaty and pretty much what you would expect a hike out of a massive canyon to be. We started at 6am, made it to the rim around noon, and were drinking a beer within the hour.

In Sedona we Couchsurfed for the final time on our US road trip. Once again proving why I’d rather travel from couch to couch than motel to motel, our time with superhost Peter Gersten is one we won’t soon forget.

Peter has been hosting Couchsurfers for a number of years in Sedona, and allows surfers into his home under one requirement: you hike to the top of Bell Rock with him. Bell Rock, conveniently located a few miles from Peter’s home, is one of the four main energy vortexes that draws visitors to Sedona.

Peter believes that by the Winter Solstice 2018, he needs to lead 2,222 to the top of Bell Rock in order to pass into his next portal/galaxy. Peter is a believer in numeral linearity. Peace signs are not peace signs… they are 11’s. Here is a quick snippet from Peters Couchsurfing profile.

MISSION: To reach the next level of my holographic reality program I need to guide 2222 people to the top of Bell Rock before the winter solstice of 2018. The Top of Bell Rock Club (TBRC) as of 10-8-16 has 1826 members. Why you ask? Well you will need to meet the following conditions to learn the answer.

IF YOU WANT ME TO HOST YOU THEN PLEASE STATE IN YOUR REQUEST THAT YOU WILL:

1) COME TO THE TOP OF BELL ROCK WITH ME

I believe this reality is a futuristic holographic form of entertainment. I believe I programmed my entire life before I was born and then "downloaded" into my carbon based physical body to experience this life. Implicit in this belief is the realization that I have, either directly or indirectly, already consented to everything that happens to me

After reading this, Camryn and I were sold on visiting Sedona, meeting Peter and hiking to Bell Rock.

There isn’t a trail to the top of Bell Rock. Peter leads the way, guiding the group through the tricky parts by saying exactly where to put each hand and foot. I’d say he knows the way pretty well by now, since he climbs Bell Rock 4-5 times a week and has been doing so for the last couple of years. Also to note, Peter is in his mid 70’s and in phenomenal shape.  

Along the way Peter talked about his life. He was a Defense Attorney in New York City for 20 years working on murder trials. He is one of the only active UFO lawyers, representing UFO groups in lawsuits against the US government under the Freedom Of Information Act. He is nicknamed the Vortex Jumper- read article here http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/news/sedona-vortex-jumper-peter-gersten-wanders-home-after-vortex-fails-to-open-6648932. 

We made it to the top. Camryn was given 745 and I’m 746 (in the 2nd group of 1,111). 

While I’m not sold on UFOs and alien dimensions, climbing Bell Rock and spending time with Peter was well worth the trip to Sedona. Peter was an incredible host, and I wish him all the best in reaching his goals!

If you want to visit Peter and hike Bell Rock, you can find him on Facebook at  

 https://www.facebook.com/PAG2012?fref=ts

We said goodbye to Peter on our 2nd night in Sedona, and hit the road home at 4am. Our next week looked like the following:

16 hours to Wichita, Kansas

4.5 hours to Columbia, Missouri

3 hours to Carlinville, IL

3 ½ hours to Naperville, IL

3 ½ hours to Indianapolis, IN

3 ½ hours to Naperville, IL

On Thursday 11/3 we head to India for part 2 of our Grand Adventure!

Talk soon,

JJ

[flossinginthesunshine]

6 days. 4 national parks. 2 happy campers.

We woke up to snow the second morning in Silverton, CO, and decided to skip our planned hike for the day and drive to lower elevation. We had no set reservations for the rest of the trip, and would be camping most nights, so from here on out we were living spontaneously. We completed the Million Dollar Highway and drove from Silverton to Moab.

Upon arriving in Moab, we found a campsite right along the Colorado River (less than 5 miles from the entrance of Arches), then scouted out the best place to get a snack and some wifi. The next day, we hiked the Primitive Loop Trail seeing 7 natural sandstone arches, including the world’s largest arch: Landscape Arch. The transition from mountains to desert was hard for us at first, and we really missed the cool air and lush landscapes. JJ became acquainted with the new terrain by climbing as high as he could every possible moment.

We ended the day by hiking to the most famous arch in the park: Delicate Arch. We went into the hike thinking, “okay we’ve seen 7+ arches today, how cool is this going to be?” But the second you turn the corner and see the towering arch perfectly framing the mountains, it’s totally worth it. I must add that JJ was complimented three times on his mustache this day. 

The next morning we jetted off early to make our way to Grand-Staircase Escalante. This wasn’t part of our original itinerary, but once again Instagram to the rescue! After stumbling upon photos of these gorgeous slot canyons, we simultaneously agreed to make the detour. It’s important to note that Grand-Staircase Escalante is a national monument, as opposed to a national park.  

According to Outside Magazine:

The primary difference lies in the reason for preserving the land: National parks are protected due to their scenic, inspirational, education, and recreational value. National monuments have objects of historical, cultural, and/or scientific interest, so their content is quite varied. For example, national monuments protect wilderness areas (such as Muir Woods), fossil sites, military forts, ruins (such as the Gila Cliff Dwellings), and buildings (such as Ford’s Theatre, where President Lincoln was assassinated).

On the bureaucratic bent, the National Parks Service oversees all parks and some monuments. However, the U.S. Forest Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the Department of Defense, and Bureau of Land Management may also supervise monuments, depending on the location of the lands and the reason for their protection. Some of these agencies are better than others at providing visitor information. Congress designates national parks; in general, presidential proclamations establish national monuments.

On the way, we stopped to hike the Lower Calf Creek Falls trail to a 126 ft. waterfall. While other hikers were ohh’ing and ahh’ing at the waterfall, we both had a moment of “meh” and asked ourselves if we had become jaded by nature already?? This waterfall was gorgeous, but after seeing some of the falls in Oregon… it just didn’t compare. However, we quickly told ourselves to snap out of it and appreciate each hike for what it has to offer. After all, we were standing in front of a towering waterfall in the middle of the desert.

From there, we went to the Escalante Visitor’s Center to get a backcountry permit. National Monument land is similar to BLM land in that you can camp anywhere you’d like. The only thing between us and a beautiful campsite was a 25-mile washboarded road, recommended for high-clearance vehicles. Buddha the Van is not a high-clearance vehicle, but he is a trooper. The white knuckle drive took almost an hour, but the pain was worth it. Escalante is the definition of “wide open spaces” and quickly became our favorite place in Utah and our home for the next two nights. 

The next morning we awoke to yelping coyotes not-too-far off in the distance, read, made coffee, ate breakfast + watched the most gorgeous sunrise of the trip. The road to the slot canyons requires a high-clearance vehicle… so we parked our car and walked 1.5 miles to the trailhead. From there, we descended into the canyons, not knowing what to expect.

The canyons were unbelievable. The texture and colors looked like a wave of sherbet had been flipped on it’s side and we were now walking through it. At times, the canyons were only 10 inches wide, which meant we had to take off our backpacks and sidestep through them. We hiked Dry Fork, Peek-A-Boo and Spooky -- which definitely lived up to it’s name. 

Although we wanted to stay in Escalante much longer and explore the nearby Neon and Zebra canyons, we couldn’t make it there without a high-clearance vehicle (we still love you, Buddha!). We decided to head to Bryce a day early, vowing to return to Escalante with a bigger car someday soon. We hiked the 8-mile Fairyland Loop, giving us amazing views of the Hoodoos from above and below the canyon.

That night we camped just two miles outside of the park for free. Given our tight budget, we’ve been enjoying camping for free on BLM and National Forest land. It’s completely free to camp in these areas, and they often times have bathrooms, fire rings, picnic tables, etc. It still blows my mind that people pay $25+ for a crowded campground in national parks, when there is beautiful and free land right next door.

The next morning we had every intention of waking up and watching the sunrise over Bryce Canyon... but it didn’t happen. We’ve learned that we aren’t sunrise people; we like our relaxing mornings too much to wake up when it’s still dark out and hike with a large group of people to watch something that is equally as beautiful from our tent. Instead, we drove to Zion National Park and I prepped myself for Angel’s Landing.

As you recall from our Big Sur experience, I’m afraid of heights and have been working on conquering this the entire trip. Angel’s Landing is a 4-mile, steep hike up to a peak overlooking Zion. At times, the trail is only a few feet wide with 1,500 ft. drop offs on either side. There are chains along the rock for you to hold onto on your way up. If you fall, you die, and six people have died on this hike since 2004. 

Happy to report that we didn’t fall (therefore, didn’t die!), made it to the top, and I’m now much closer to conquering my fear of heights. The views were stunning and the feat of accomplishment felt *almost* as good as not seeing any bears in Wyoming :)

We rewarded ourselves with a “shower”, burgers and beer. This “shower” consisted of wearing swimsuits and using our Nalgene’s in the RV fill-up station. Once again, I’m supposed to add that JJ was complimented three times today on his mustache. We camped on BLM land on top of a mesa that night, and on the way up we were met with our first car trouble: a rattling noise coming from underneath the van. After some investigation, we saw that something was detached but didn’t appear to be causing any real problems. We decided to take it to the shop the next day... right after hiking one of the most famous hikes in Zion National Park: The Narrows. 

The Narrows is a 7-mile hike through the Virgin River, with towering canyon walls on either side of you. 85% of the time, you’re hiking through water and this time of the year it was pretty cold. I wore my Chacos, which were perfect for the water, but my feet were numb after about 15 minutes. Luckily, the views and the adventure of the hike were quite distracting.

We then drove to the tiny town of Kanab, UT, to get the car checked out. The rattling piece ended up being a muffler guard that simply needed to be cut off. We celebrated with a chocolate malt, and made a very last minute decision to drive to Horseshoe Bend to watch the sunset. This required crossing the Arizona state line... so I’ll let JJ take it from here :)

Cheers!

Camryn 

[flossinginthesunshine]

Rocky Mountain High

From Lander, Wyoming we headed east to Estes Park, Colorado for the wedding of Drake of Steph. Drake and Steph are close friends of mine going back a few years in Indianapolis, and recently they moved to Denver for their respective residency programs (Drake is a dentist and Steph is a doctor). My friends are a bunch of under achievers, I know. As soon as we got their wedding invite in the mail back in spring, Cam and I made sure to schedule the rest of our road trip around their big shindig. Luckily, the timing worked out perfectly since by the end of September it was getting too cold to camp comfortably in the mountains, and it was time to start heading south.

Doing our best to waste no time in Rocky Mountain National park, we woke at 6am the day of their wedding for a 10-mile hike. The trek to Sky Pond was cold and windy, and we spent all of two minutes at the turning point to enjoy the lake. Our hands were frozen, the rain was pelting us in the eyeballs, and we had a wedding to get ready for!

My suit had been folded up (albeit, in a proper suit bag) and squished under our food bin in the van for the last two months, which required two rounds of steaming before it looked remotely acceptable.

The wedding was set beautifully high in the hills outside of Estes Park, and they were married under changing aspen trees.

Remember Bob & Kim from Portland? Well, besides being gracious hosts during our time in the Pacific NW, they also introduced to us their cousins in Boulder, Colorado. It took Kim all of 15 minutes with us before she was texting her cousin something along the lines of “we have some strangers staying with us for a few days… they seem like ‘pretty’ normal people… you should meet up with them in Boulder!”

Steve and Molly graciously invited us to stay with them and their 13-year-old daughter Laurel for 3 nights. Molly is an art teacher in Boulder, Steve is an engineer for the National Center for Atmospheric Research (mad scientist!), and Laurel is an adventurous 8th grader who got her cast removed (after breaking her arm while biking to school) while we were there. Hope you’re feeling better, Laurel!

We feel so lucky to keep meeting these incredible people. We have experienced nothing but generosity and kindness the entire trip, which has been really special and somewhat unexpected. Only the best vibes on the road.

We had two days in Boulder; the first we climbed the two tallest peaks (South Boulder & Bear Peak), and the second we scooted around town checking out all the sights, before hiking a bit in the Flatirons. Boulder is a gorgeous town, nestled so close to the mountains that the best hikes leave from Chautauqua Park, which is within walking distance of pretty much everything.

From Boulder we headed southeast to spend three days in Denver. We split our time staying with Camryn’s good friend from Carlinville (Alli), and at Steph & Drake’s apartment, who were ironically back in Estes Park for another wedding. Half a dozen other Butler University grads also live in their apartment building, dubbing the complex “the dorm.” If we end up moving to Denver, hopefully a dorm room opens up for us. We were pretty low-key in Denver, spending most of our time exploring neighbourhoods, seeing friends and playing frisbee in our new favourite parks (Cheesman & Washington).

Three-and-a-half hours south of Denver is America’s newest National Park, Great Sand Dunes. GSDNP is home to our continent’s highest (and largest) sand dunes. Just shy of 9k feet of elevation, the highest sand dune sores 750 feet above the others. We snagged a VIP campsite by 8am and relaxed until lunch when Alli joined us and hiked up into the dunes to see the sunset.

The 90-minute hike up was tough, due in part to the wind slapping sand in our face and the fact that when you walk uphill in sand, you sink back one step with every two steps you take. We jumped off cliffs & saw a breath-taking sunset over a backdrop so surreal we were almost convinced we were part of a sci-fi movie set.

Next on our list was the San Juan mountain range near Silverton, Colorado. We opted to treat ourselves with a short hostel stay in Silverton, as the temperatures at night were dipping in to the mid 20s. In fact, our 2nd night in Silverton it snowed almost two inches.

It has been over 5 years since I last stayed in a hostel, and I was beautifully reminded of two things: 1) How easily it is to meet people and make friends when staying in a shared space, and 2) How many kick-ass people are out there doing awesome things every single day.

We sparked up a conversation in the kitchen with a British man named Jeff Woods. Jeff is quite possibly the most interesting man I’ll ever meet. While his technical home is Swansea, Wales, he spends most of his time travelling the world. When I asked Jeff how many counties he’s been to, he replied with, “It’s not about the number of countries you’ve been to but the experiences you’ve had.” In other words… he had lost count. He keeps a car (a beat up Toyota hatchback stuffed to the brim w/ gear) in Bend, Oregon so he can explore the Western US each year.

Although he quit his job as a professor 20 years ago, he continues to go back to London and teach a class each winter. He has a handful of masters and PHDs… in economic development, African Studies and history. As one story goes, he was fishing in a remote peninsula in Mexico when he met the co-chair of the African Studies program, asked him if he could get funding, and it was agreed upon. He has since taught classes around the world on the codependent relationship between politics and economics in developing nations. The longer we talked to Jeff, the more stories fell out of his mouth. To no surprise, he has hitchhiked around the world on more than one occasion.

This was Jeff’s first night paying for lodging in 3 months. The day before he had been camping at 10k feet, got snowed on all night and nearly froze. He’s currently on a trip around the U.S. visiting all of the landmarks with the title “Swansea” (his hometown).

Next year he will be travelling through Iceland, Australia, New Zealand and South America. Here is a link to an article I found on Google about someone else that met Jeff on the road a few years back. It’s worth the read!

http://www.canyoncountryzephyr.com/2014/06/02/my-favourite-tourists-1-jeff-woods-by-jim-stiles/

Hopefully we’ll see Jeff Woods again, soon… somewhere out there on the road.

Our hike to Ice Lake the next day was 4 miles one way and had 3k feet of elevation change. One of the more challenging hikes we have done on this trip so far, we were greeted with the most beautiful lake either one of us had ever seen (seriously, it was that outstanding). And to think we’d see something bluer than Blue Pools! Pictures don’t do this place justice.

Cheers,

JJ

[flossinginthesunshine]

We’re going to Jackson.

“What’s been your favorite place so far?” We get asked this question quite a bit on the road, and so far we have the same answer- The Grand Tetons. While leaving beautiful Oregon was bittersweet, we were eager to get to Jackson, WY. We bypassed our planned one-night stay in Boise (we’ll be back for you Idaho!) and drove the 12+ hours from Portland to Jackson in one day. We made it in one piece and found a free campsite as the sun was setting on a public reservoir just outside of the Tetons.

Day 1

The next morning, we arrived at the Grand Tetons Visitor Center an hour before it opened to get a backcountry permit. Needless to say, JJ was excited to be the first one in line.

Before getting our permit, we had to watch a short video about backcountry camping safety… and this is where my irrational fear of bears began. By the end of the video, I was convinced we were going to be stalked and killed by a bear. Wyoming isn’t too bad of a place to die, right?

Bear spray in hand, we set-off on a 22-mile loop hike up Paintbrush Canyon and down Cascade Canyon. The first day consisted of 7.5 miles and 3,500 ft. up. It was tough hiking, but the blossoming colors of fall made us forget about the level of difficulty. There are two weeks out of the year when leaves are at their brightest in the Tetons, and we had unknowingly chosen one of these sacred weeks. The aspens were changing to a shade of yellow I’ve never seen before… hard to describe, and even harder to photograph.

We made it to camp mid-afternoon, and chose a spot to set up our tent after searching for a sheltered location for half an hour. The wind picked up consistently over the next hour, and with one gust we watched as our top-of-the-line backpacking tent collapsed and bent in a way that it wasn’t intended to bend. One of the polls snapped and ripped a hole through the rainfly. We’ll be making a trip to REI asap upon our return home. We ended up salvaging the broken pole, and moving our camp to a more protected area. JJ was heartbroken… as his weeks of tent research hadn’t paid off.

Despite making it the first day without seeing any bears, I continued to keep the bear spray no more than 2 feet from my hands at all times. Although JJ joked quite a bit about this, I think he was secretly glad I was being so BEAR AWARE, as the signs throughout the park had indicated many times.

Day 2

We were up early the next morning to tackle our one mile, 1,500 ft. accent of Paintbrush Divide to the saddle between 2 peaks.

JJ kept me going by reminding me that, “every step you take is the highest elevation you’ve ever been.”  And it was so worth it. At 10,700 ft., the 360 degree views were breathtaking. The pass opened up a new world of mountain ranges, peaks, and canyons. It’s safe to say that I’m addicted. Addicted to the feeling of wanting to see what’s over the next pass. Addicted to the exhilaration of the wind blowing in your face. Addicted to feeling entirely humbled, small and insignificant compared to the mountains that surround you.

We had 14 miles and 5,000 ft. down to go. From the ever-changing colors of the leaves, to the sheer drop-offs of the cliffs, to the rushing waters of the river… Cascade Canyon was a something from a dream. Six hours and zero bears later, we made it to the parking lot and rewarded ourselves with pizza and beer at a place just outside the park called Dornan’s.

JJ, the master of free campsites, found us a spot on a ridge overlooking the best viewpoint of the Tetons. Arriving just before sunset, we pulled up and an older couple was taking pictures where our tent would later be pitched. Forty years ago, they camped in this exact spot with their newborn baby. As they were leaving, the man casually told me that the biggest grizzly bear in Wyoming was caught in this campsite a few weeks ago, “so be careful!” This did NOT help ease my fear of bears. As soon as the sun dipped under the horizon, I was tucked in the tent with my bear spray. We fell asleep to the sound of wolves howling in the canyons and the pitter patter of rain against our tent.

Day 3

We woke the next morning to more rain, so we stayed in the tent playing cribbage and reading. One of my favorite parts about camping is the mornings. Whether it’s hitting the road early + seeing the sunrise, or taking it slow at camp with coffee + breakfast… our mornings are simple, and I’m so thankful for that.

After two big days of hiking, we were looking forward to being tourists for the day. We made our way back to Dornan’s to snag some free wifi and do a little work. “Work” these days consists of freelancing, blog writing, emailing friends + family, editing photos, and charging phones.

It was cloudy in the park that day, which painted an ominous picture of the Tetons we hadn’t seen before. The gray hues of the sky made the colors appear even brighter.

That afternoon we said goodbye to the Tetons, already planning our next trip back. After seeing it in the fall, I want to see it in every season. En route to Colorado, we camped at a city park in Lander, WY. Eleven years ago, JJ was actually in Lander, embarking on a four-week backpacking trip through the Wind River Wilderness with the National Outdoor Leadership School. We pulled up to the park thinking we’d be the only ones camping there on a Wednesday night, but we were so wrong.

As rain started to fall, we took shelter under the park pavilion to cook dinner. Here we were joined by 6-7 other groups of #vanlifers from around the country. Lander is a mecca for rock climbing, and it quickly became clear that we were in the minority since we don’t climb. Despite not being able to keep up with their lingo, we enjoyed observing their dinner menus, dish cleaning processes, van organization and nightly game rituals. We had a moment of “we’re not the only ones doing this!” which was both reassuring and inspiring. 

We fell asleep that night dreaming of the hotel bed, hot shower and dear friends awaiting us in Estes Park, CO, the next day.  

Cheers!

Camryn

[flossinginthesunshine]

ExplOregon

By: JJ

Heading up the coast of California, we made our way into Oregon and drove through a handful of towns that could easily have been mistaken for podunk nowhere Illinois/Indiana. And here I thought Oregon was full of free spirits and beautiful mountains… perhaps I should hold off on judgement until I’ve seen more than just a grocery store and Walmart.

Our first 2 nights in Oregon were spent at Lemolo Lake, a relatively unknown lake ranking near the bottom of page 3 for campsites near Crater Lake. Given that we were staying over the weekend, all desirable sites were booked up 4 months out for the states’ most popular tourist attraction.

Per usual, Camryn and I woke as the sun rose and hopped in the car to begin our day by 7am. We arrived at Crater Lake by 7:45, and hauled our cooking supplies to a scenic overlook not far from the road. Not a very wise move, as the wind picked up almost simultaneously and we struggled to even boil water. We persisted, used half a can of fuel, and enjoyed our oatmeal, bacon & coffee as hoards of foreign tourists looked on with confusion.

Crater Lake is 2k feet deep, five miles wide and will take your breath away with its beauty. You can drive around lake in two hours, and there are a handful of 1-5 mile hikes around the rim that are easily accessible. But here is the thing about Crater Lake… it is overrun with tourists in rented RVs hopping out of their car at turnoffs to snap a few pics with the hope that the likes blow up on Instagram. It was overwhelming for us… both in the sheer amount of people crammed in one small park, and everyone’s attitude of ‘we only have 2 hours to see the whole lake, hurry up with the damn photo and jump back in the car!’.

Despite our plan of spending all day hiking at Crater Lake, we opted instead for a quick 5-mile hike and then bolted out of there to Umpqua Hot Springs. Umpqua Hot Springs… finally our first foray into the liberal and accepting Oregon we have heard so much about. Full of vegabonds & townies alike, this clothing optional hot spring was a wonderful way to spend a few hours off our feet and not in the van.  We returned to our sanctuary at Lemolo Lake to play cribbage, drink wine and watch the sun set over Mt. Thielsen.

Next on our list was Bend, a town of 80k people and 25 craft breweries (most breweries per capita in the US). Like most everything on our road trip so far, our initial plan of enjoying brunch in Bend was quickly erased when we saw the sun rise while driving and decided the day should be spent hiking instead.

Trying to find a hiking trail near Bend is similar to looking up food trucks in Los Angeles or dive bars in Brooklyn. Overwhelming doesn’t begin to describe my emotional state while searching on my phone while Cam was driving. Bend is beautifully snuggled in the mountains and along the Deschutes River, and is the ideal launching place for any outdoor recreation. We settled upon the Green Lakes Trail (aka gave up on Googling and just picked at random), a nice 9-mile loop w/ 1k feet of elevation change that offered views of the 3 Sisters mountain peaks.

After a quick detour to Tumalo Waterfall, and a short hike getting us behind the falls, we arrived in Bend. Logical first stop in Bend? Deschutes Brewery.

Bend was our second experience with CouchSurfing, and once again we wouldn’t have changed a thing about the experience. A lovely family of 3, Liana, Peter & Vinna hosted us for 2 nights and welcomed us with a home-cooked meal and local beer. They compost, recycle, don’t get catalogues, don’t have cable TV, buy used before new and only listen to vinyl. Their family slogan is ‘less vanity, more planety’.

We spent Tuesday exploring Bend. No hiking boots today! We brunched, did laundry, went grocery shopping, cleaned the van, called our parents/friends & walked along the Deschutes River throughout town.

Out of Bend we headed to the Tamolitch Blue Pool, locally referred to as Blue Pools. When Cam & I first hatched the idea for this trip, she found Blue Pools on Instagram and sent me a text saying ‘GOOGLE BLUE POOLS’ and included a picture. Needless to say, she was ecstatic we were finally going.

After speaking w/ the Park Ranger, we learned that this place was relatively unheard of until a few years ago when a famous tennis player died here after diving in the water and breaking his neck. A swarm of people apparently arrived after his death to check out the site after the newspaper published the location. These people put lots of photos on Instagram… and it took off! One Saturday this summer there were over 1.2k people who arrived at Blue Pools. Thankfully, when we were there we only saw 5 others.

Our first 2 nights in Portland we stayed with Bob & Kim, the aunt and uncle of one of Camryn’s good friends from Butler. Bob & Kim live in the Bridgeport neighborhood, just north of Portland on the Columbia River. They live in a floating home, own a small restaurant & are beyond welcoming.

We started our days w/ Bob and Kim having coffee and breakfast on their patio watching the boats drift by and the sun rise over the hills. If you are ever in Portland, make sure you stop by Channel’s Edge for some proper delicious food on the banks of the Columbia River.

We spent Thursday and Friday exploring a handful of different Portland neighborhoods, popping in and out of thrift stores and playing the ‘can we see ourselves living in this city?’ game. To answer that question, you betcha. Portland blew our minds. Small enough to walk/bike through with ease, large enough to support a rapidly growing economy & just the right amount of grit to keep us on our toes.

One of the first places we booked back in June via AirBnb was a 2-night stay on a pear farm in White Salmon, Washington (just across the Columbia River from Hood River).  Descried as a quiet, relaxing farm experience away from city noise, we were paying to pitch our tent anywhere on their property and have access to their hot tub, kitchen & bathroom/shower. We received a note from them a week before we were to arrive, letting us know our time on the pear farm wasn’t going to be so quiet and relaxing after all.

As you can imagine, we responded with ‘No problem! We’d love to come to your pear party. Can’t wait, and see you soon.’ We picked pears, enjoyed home brew, listened to our host Chris and his band play on the porch and retired to our tent while the party was still winding down. 

Composting toilet on the farm.

AirBNB Superhost Chris & and his band.

Dried pears (they feed this to the pigs before the pigs are sent to the butcher so the meat will have hints of pear).

We knew it would eventually rain. After nearly 2 weeks of flawless sunny weather, the infamous Pacific Northwest rains greeted us head on Saturday and Sunday as we explored the Columbia River Gorge and Mt. Hood.

This beautiful stretch of earth just east of Portland is scattered with waterfalls & hikes, and forced us into another overwhelming Google search similar to the Bend experience.  We stopped at 2 roadside waterfalls & hiked on the Eagle Creek Trail for 4 miles past Punchbowl Falls.

Starting on the approach to Portland from Bend, Mt. Hood looms on the horizon as a sharp reminder to just how close you are to the nature. Despite the impending weather, we decided upon a Mt. Hood hike that would take us up pretty much as high as possible before climbing gear was needed.

The Cooper Spur trail is a 10-mile out and back, with glacier views along the way. Even though we were essentially walking up Mt. Hood the whole time… we wouldn’t have known. As we reached the top of the trail that was described online as ‘delivering sweeping views in 180 degrees of Mt. Hood’, the clouds unleashed a rainstorm that neither of us (despite being prepared w/ rain jackets & warm clothes) were mentally prepared for.

We pretty much ran as fast as possible down the mountain, slipping and sliding on rocks as the temps lowered from 60 to 40 within minutes. Sounds fun, right? Don’t worry; we soaked in the hot tub later that night.

[flossinginthesunshine]

California Dreamin’

By: Camryn

Our adventure began a day earlier than planned, as I decided to make the trek out to Lone Pine, CA, to surprise JJ at the end of the JMT. JJ thought I was arriving in LA the following day… but after taking a train, plane, bus and catching a ride from a retired pilot that I found on Reddit to retrieve our van, which was parked at the golf course just out of “town.” I finally made it and got all checked into the Mt. Whitney Hostel.

The next morning - while JJ climbed from 12k to 14.5k feet and summited Mt. Whitney by sunrise - I drove to the trailhead, hiked in about a mile, and waited behind a turn for him come down. I could hardly contain my excitement to see JJ, and I was simply relieved to have made it to the trail after half a dozen travel methods over 48 hours. 

For a little perspective on JJs day, he woke up at 2am to hike up 2.5k feet and walk 5 miles to be on top of Mt. Whitney (the official end of the John Muir Trail) by sunrise. From the top of Mt. Whitney it is a 10 mile hike down that brings you from 14.5k feet to 8k feet at Whitney Portal. 

As I waited for JJ to walk down the path and make the turn, I struck up conversation with groups of hikers on their descent. As it turns out, the JMT scene is quite intimate and everyone had spent the last few days with JJ and already knew of me and our road trip plans! Such a neat, small thru hiker world.

Soon enough, there he was, practically running down the side of the mountain. After the initial “AAHHH Hi Babe! it’s so great to see you!” and a quick kiss/hug, he sputtered off something along the lines of “I’m at a 9.5/10 on the poop emergency scale. No time to talk, I’ve had to go for the last 7 miles, 1 more to go, hurry up, we are getting off this damn mountain!” We then hiked ran down the mountain and promptly headed for a bathroom, immediately followed by pizza and beer. Surprise, success!

The full surprise video can be found here. It felt really special to be able to experience just a tiny fraction of the trail JJ had been hiking the past 22 days. Thanks to everyone who made it possible + sent us your good travel vibes, they worked!

From Lone Pine, we drove to Arroyo Grande where we had our first couch surfing experience. Our host lived on an avocado farm on a big hill overlooking the coastline, and our home was a trailer parked amidst rows of avocado, lemon, and fig trees. Our neighbors were 15 chickens, 2 goats and 1 adorable pit bull named Rita. Although our host wasn’t there, his mother and nephew showed us the ropes and took us out for a beer and some nachos that night. We couldn’t have asked for a better, more welcoming first Couchsurfing experience.

Our goodies from the farm. JJ happily volunteered me to get the eggs out of the coop, and it took me a good 15 minutes to successfully snag 6 eggs. So much for growing up in rural Illinois... these suburban hands sure have forgotten the ropes. We spent the next day relaxing at the beach, getting corn on the cob from a local market, and making our first of many trips to Trader Joe’s. We capped off the day with some wine out of a coffee mug, and prepared foods from Trader Joe's for dinner. JJ somehow lost 11 pounds on his 3 week JMT adventure... and has been doing his best to put back on that weight asap.

After a day spent properly relaxing, we headed north to Big Sur. Driving up Highway 1 and camping/hiking in Big Sur has been at the at the top of our ever growing bucket list since we first hatched this trip idea. While most people go to Big Sur and see jaw-dropping cliffs, crashing waves, and beautiful coastline… we went to Big Sur and saw crazed hippies, a creepy army base and the OTHER side of Big Sur that no one talks about.

^^ the only photo we captured of Big Sur. There is currently a wildfire blazing through Los Padres National Forest that has been burning for the past 6 weeks. As a result, our initially booked campsite was closed, so we planned on going to a dispersed camping spot overlooking a gorgeous stretch of coastline, at a place called Prewitt Ridge, that was supposedly still open.

When we turned off Highway 1 to make the climb to our camping area, we saw a sign we had seen a handful of times before: Los Padres National Forest Closed. Camping was prohibited, but the road was still open for day use. If we weren’t going to camp at Big Sur, we were determined to at least explore it. As we were getting back in our car to head up, a beat up truck came flying around the curve, not slowing down as they approached the van. In the driver’s seat was a man with huge dreadlocks, laying on the horn and relentlessly screaming obscenities at us, “Move your f*cking car! We have to get to work!” We survived, albeit with a sped up heart rate and a fear of what was around the next bend. Good thing the drive to the top only took 45 minutes.

If you are prone to car sickness (guilty) and afraid of heights (also guilty), you’ve been warned. See it curving around the bend, inches from the edge? Now imagine driving that 100 times in a row. JJ did a great job getting us safely to the top, where we were then met with another disappointment. The final road to the campsite was closed, and so was every single hike from the ridge. We ran into a local who lives near the campsite and she told us it was a $5,000 fine for camping there during the wild fire. We promptly said goodbye and decided to give up on Big Sur.

It was getting dark and we needed to find a place to stay that night. We had 2 choices: go back down the same way + drive all the way north out of Big Sur, or head down the backside of the range and see what we could find. We went with option 2, and drove down a part of Big Sur no one ever talks about.  We drove for 20+ miles down the ridge, not passing a single car, road sign or gas station. Nothing but erie desert-like landscapes. Turns out, we were driving through a restricted army base (complete with a few hundred mannequins scattered throughout the barren fields for target practice), and we couldn’t have been more relieved to make it to our last minute home for the night. JJ found us a free BLM (Bureau of Land Management) camping spot just a few miles away.

Big Sur is right over the edge of those hills... it’s like we’re *almost* there. 

Once at the campsite, we set up our tent for the first time, made a feast and watched the sunset. This was our first big lesson in flexibility, and I’d say it turned out quite nicely. Big Sur, we’ll be back for you one day.

We had an extra night to kill before going to San Fran, so we headed back towards the coast and found a campsite right outside Santa Cruz on the beach.

On to San Francisco. We’ve gotten into the habit of waking up early, making coffee and hitting the road... then stopping somewhere roadside to make breakfast. It’s important to note that we also made a strict rule to never let the other person get too hungry on this trip. Someone (read: JJ) is known to get a bit hangry, so this rule was necessary after his first mini melt down on day 3. Delaying breakfast worked out perfectly this time, as we pulled off at a lighthouse/hostel (how cool), and made our farm fresh eggs with avocados.

This was my first time in SF (JJ has been multiple times for work), and we had less than 24 hours to explore. We mapped out a pretty ambitious itinerary the night before:

10 miles, 8 oysters, 4 new books, 2 Ghirardelli ice cream sundaes, and 1 big dinner with friends later… we did it! The people are warm + welcoming, the neighborhoods are bursting with authenticity, and there are green spaces galore. To end the night, we went to a BYOB Indian restaurant in the Mission with a handful of friends from Indy who now live in the Bay Area.

Lunch at Golden Gate - not a cloud in the sky!

Picking up some much needed Kerouac at Dog Eared Books.

My favorite spot in the city: Dolores Park. Every city should have a park like this. 

Buddha approves. Heading north to Redwood State Park!

En route to our campsite in Redwood State Park, we took a scenic detour through the Avenue of the Giants. I read Travels with Charlie by John Steinbeck before this trip, and his words rang true as we caught our first glimpse of these giants: “No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwoods tree. The feeling the produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe.”

Our campsite that night was at (the accurately named) Gold Bluffs Beach. We rolled in just as the sun was setting and immediately made a new friend. This elk was just hanging out on the beach, less than 50 yards from our campsite. We followed him down to the water as he ate dinner and we snapped a million photos.

The next morning, we made breakfast before setting off on a 9-mile hike from our beach into the redwoods forest. Our typical breakfast includes a combination of eggs, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. Sometimes in a tortilla, always with Sriracha. Bacon is a special treat.

The highlight of the hike was Fern Canyon, which I obviously referred to as FernGully. The canyon was covered floor-to-ceiling with different types of ferns, causing a sea of green that looked magical at first light. It was beautiful and pictures don’t do it justice.

Serious van envy back at the campsite. California is full of #vanlifers road tripping in Sprinter Vans, Westfalia’s and everything in between. This was one of our favorites.

Relaxing afternoons.

California is truly a road tripper’s dream. Scenic highways, coastline camping, and authentic food. We’ll miss you, Cali! Onward to Oregon.

[flossinginthesunshine]

John Muir Trail

By: JJ

222 miles.

22 days.

2 gear fails- ripped tent & popped sleeping pad.

1 successfully thru-hiked John Muir Trail.

Lone Pine, California…. quite possibly the armpit of the Sierras. A town with no public transportation, we had to hitchhike back to our hotel from the JMT long-term parking lot (aka a dirt patch near the golf course). A very kind Mexican man picked us up in his truck after a short 5 minutes waiting roadside, thumb gleefully stuck out.

Ready-Set-Hike.

We hiked with Steven and Brittany for the first week. Friends from Salt Lake City, they were a delight to spend time with and were were a core part of Trail Family part 1.

When I was 16 I want to REI and told the sales associate, “I’m looking for your top of the line hiking shoe.” I left the store that day with a tried and true, all leather Gore-Tex pair of Asolo hiking boots that are still sold today. Solid purchase indeed, they have lasted me at least a thousand miles and dozens of trips. Surprisingly, I was in the minority on the JMT w/ a pair of proper boots. The new trend in thru hiking is to wear trail runners. Lighter in weight & with no Gore-Tex material, trail runners allow your foot to breath and the shoe to dry quicker. Call me resistant to change… but I was blown away by the % of hikers in trail runners as opposed to boots.

My palace. Big Agnes Fly Creek Tent (just under 2 pounds), Nemo sleeping pad (1 pound) and an Enlightened Equipment 20 degree quilt (1.5 pounds). Interesting to point out that big box retailers like REI don’t sell quilts, despite their popularity in the thru hiker community. Research has shown that that down feathers don’t provide warmth when compressed under your body weight, allowing quilts to pack down smaller and lighter than traditional mummy bags, while still providing the same amount of warmth.

On day 2 of the JMT we climbed the ever-popular Half Dome. If scampering up a nearly vertical mountain while clinging to bolted wires waiting ‘patently’ for the terrified lady in front of you to take her next step is your idea of fun, you’ll love Half Dome. To me, it was a big ‘check mark’ on the always growing bucket list. Done and done. Gorgeous… but not the reason I was in the Sierras. I was longing for the serenity and tranquility of jagged  mountains and cold alpine lakes. Leaving the crowds of Yosemite Valley couldn’t come sooner.

I was relieved that the trail was always well marked. Only a small handful of times were we forced to backtrack and play the ‘if I were the JMT….where would I be hiding’ game. The trail itself took a manner of different forms throughout the 220 miles….small rocks, big boulders, sand, dirt, grass, logs across rivers, you name it and we walked across it.

Lunch view.

In order of time spent on the trail... I’d rank hiking, sleeping, eating & squeezing water as my most common behaviors. Pretty much every two or three hours during the day I could be found sitting by a creek, feet soaking in the nearly freezing water, squeezing water through my Sawyer Mini water filter.

Dad squeezed a lot, too.

Sunset.

Sunset.

This is Kevin & Amy. One of the many parent/child groups we encountered on the trail, they are from Los Angeles and had the same itinerary as us. Initially meeting on the JMT Facebook page back in March as we were planning resupply locations, we met them in person on the bus into Yosemite on day 1. Hiking and playing cribbage with these 2 goofballs was a pleasure.

Each morning we’d do our best to wake up by 5:30am, with the goal of hiking by 7am. Temperatures are cool in the morning, ranging from 40-60. As the day progresses, temps regularly got in the upper 80’s and low 90’s. Similar to my efficiency when I had a desk job, I always did my best work (in this case, walking fast) before lunch. Early starts also lend themselves favorably towards seeing wildlife, as deer tend to walk the actual trail as the sun is burning off all the mist.

Alpine lake.

JMT.

Alpine lake.

This is what 9 days of food looks like. At an average of 3500 calories (about 2 pounds) per day, the bear can was filled to the point where I had to stand on it and screw down the pins at the same time just to get it closed.

This is the John Muir Hut, located on top of Mather Pass. As we reached the summit of the pass, it began to snow. What to do? No brainer: play hearts and stay warm in the shelter and wait it out. After an hour, the snow stopped and we continued or our way down the other side. Within 30 minutes, the snow had returned but because of our lower elevation, snow had now turned to sleet. It was a cold, wet 2 hour descent. When someone asks what my favorite part of the JMT was… this isn’t it.

Alpine lake.

Alpine lake.

Loved these colors.

Your typical afternoon chill session. 

Couldn’t have asked for a better hiking partner. Thanks, dad.

Clouds.

Don’t let the smiles fool you... we were exhausted.

Alpine Lake.

When you find the perfect swimming hole on a 90 degree day.

Hiked along this creek for 4 hours. 

Apparently California has huge pine cons. Well done, CA.

Hey there, beautiful & twisted tree.

Tarn = lake. Cirque = bowl. 

Rae Lakes.

We chose to summit Mt. Whitney at sunrise for 2 reasons, and they each hold equal importance. Reason 1: sunrise from the highest point in North America is badass. Reason 2: 10 miles below the summit of Mt. Whitney is the ‘real world’, and after 3 weeks on trail the prospect of beer and tacos was quite powerful. Up at 2 am…. hiking by 3am…summit by 6am. Temps were in the upper 20’s & mid 30’s until 8 am. Lucky for me, I woke up in my tent with all my clothes on already so packing my gear up was a breeze.

Trail family part 2. A married couple from Sacramento, CA and lifelong friends from Iowa. We hiked together for the last 4 days, and all summited Mt. Whitney together.

[flossinginthesunshine]

Part 2: Let’s Go To India

Part two of our trip starts on Nov. 3rd with a one-way ticket to India. “Why India?” is the biggest question we’ve received since sharing the news about this trip. Road tripping out west has been a dream of both of ours, so that was a no-brainer. We also both wanted to travel abroad, but the options seemed overwhelming at first. We literally looked at a map of the world on Google images, and JJ threw out the idea of India right away. We knew we wanted to spend a lot of time in one country, instead of a little bit of time in multiple countries. We want to plunge deep into the culture and walk away feeling like we have fully immersed ourselves. Although India seemed to fit that criteria at first, we couldn’t have been more wrong. From the beginning of the planning process, we realized how HUGE India really is, and it feels like we’re going to three different countries as opposed to one. But that’s completely okay because as we continue to read about the magic of India, we couldn’t be more excited. 

Goa

Rajasthan

Shimla

In our research, we found that the two most common words used to describe India are: crazy and beautiful. Which is exactly what we’re looking for. There is so much to explore and it’s CHEAP! Don’t worry mom + dad, it’s also safe and commonly backpacked :) 

Once we decided to voyage to this incredibly large and magical country... we needed to pick a route. Thanks to several amazing travel bloggers, we opted to ease into the Indian culture by starting with the relaxing beaches and tea plantations of the south... then making our way up north to explore temples, ancient architecture, and elephants... and ending in the foothills of the Himalayas studying yoga and Buddhism. Here’s our general route:

And here are snapshots of our more specific routes: 

Flying into Fort Kochi --> Munnar --> Thekkady/Periyar --> Alleppey/Alappuzha --> Varkala. We’ll spend 2 weeks exploring Kerala, before taking the train from Thiruvananthapuram to Goa. 

We’re staying in Goa for three weeks. For two of those weeks, we’ll be living at an eco lodge in the jungle doing a Work Away program. Ever since I was 15, I’ve been creeping on the Work Away site, day dreaming about where I could go. To say I’m excited for this part of the trip is an understatement. Then we’ll spend a week on the beach, and I fear JJ will never come home. 

Next, we’re flying to the state of Rajasthan, where we’ll spend 2-3 weeks exploring ancient villages with fairy-tale palaces and forts, and hanging with elephants. Here’s our tentative route: 

Delhi --> Agra --> Jaipur --> Pushkar --> Bundi --> Udaipur --> Jodphur --> Jaisalmer --> Delhi. 

Next, we’re going into the foothills of the Himalayas, which sounds like an absolute dream. This part of the trip is a little up in the air right now, but we’re thinking we want to go skiing in Shimla and attend a yoga retreat in Rishikesh (can’t believe I actually just typed that)... but we’ve got some more research to do. 

Besides one flight and one train booking, our routes are pretty flexible as of now. So if you’ve ever been to any of these places, please let us know!! We’re up to 12 pages in our India Google Doc, and we’ll eagerly take any recommendations you have :) 

Much love,

Cam