jordan, march 26-29

We arrived in Amman around sunset. After checking into our snazzy hotel, we spent almost an hour walking around looking for a restaurant that no longer existed and then for a good substitute before finally just bailing and returning to the hotel for dinner. I had room service with Madh as she had a bad headache while Kiran and Vivek tried the Lebanese restaurant downstairs, which they loved.

The next morning we took off for Petra with our very nice and laid-back cab driver. We saw Amman in morning light, and though its buildings are ordinary in design the brilliant white sandstone gave them a certain beauty against the backdrop of rolling desert mountains. On the southern outskirts of town, the view to the west, which included the King Abdullah’s residence at the top of a hill, was fantastic. Our first stop was Mount Nebo, where Moses died. The story goes that he had guided the Israelites from Egypt, climbed to the top of this mountain, saw the Promised Land, then as God had willed it he died without ever reaching that land himself. The spot, now somehow owned and run by a European Christian group, houses a church and a small museum. Standing at the edge of the peak and seeing the Dead Sea towards the left, the broad valley with oases of green below, and the sweeping brown mountains dominating all around, you could imagine what Moses must have felt at that moment. Vivek brought up the point that such a “promised land” must have been so much greener a few thousand years ago. Nonetheless, it still captivates. In the church, old mosaics and pillars remain from the original church. We enjoyed the coolness of the building while a string quartet played from the altar.

We descended down a windy road to the edge of the Jordan River to see the spot where Jesus was baptized. As we looked at this dry unremarkable circle of earth, a knowledgeable Jordanian tour guide convincingly described the major bits of evidence pointing to this having been the exact place referred to in the Bible.
Close by were the remnants of 3 successive churches from the early Christian period. Then we finally saw the Jordan River itself, which divides Jordan and Israel. The historic body of water, apparently described in the Bible as wide and powerful, is now a puny brown stream whose days seem to be numbered.

Next stop was the Dead Sea itself. We inhaled some lunch on the beach, while chatting with our driver about various things, including politics. There were no surprises there. He doesn’t like Israel – he, like millions of Jordanians, is a Palestinian himself and would move back in a minute if there were any opportunities or security there. Leaning over towards me and whispering, he added “I like Saddam”. After I told him that I quite disliked Saddam, he said “yeah, he was a little crazy.” His viewpoint seemed to corroborate what I had heard: after being hanged in the most irresponsible fashion, Saddam became a martyr for the Arab world. Of course Saddam’s last words were: “Damn the Americans, Damn the Persians.” So Iran is now uncool, and our driver’s neutral response to my mentioning that I’m Iranian contrasted with our experience in Egypt just one year earlier, where any mention of Iran brought enthusiastic praise - of course, given our disdain for the Iranian government, we think the new trend may be a good thing.

Anyway, with Kiran watching and taking great pictures, Madh, Vivek, and I very gingerly tiptoed over jagged rocks and into the cool thick waters of the Dead Sea. As the river sources of this historic sea dwindle, evaporation is causing progressive salinization, thus making the water so dense that you easily float. So we grabbed some newspapers, kicked back, and read the news - on the water! Then we covered ourselves in the “healing” mud of the sea floor, which did feel great. Vivek and I got cut up pretty nicely by those damn rocks, and we were certainly feeling the extra salt in our wounds. We drove away and watched the sun set behind the West Bank, which was breathtaking.

After twisting up a mountain pass in the dark of night, we arrived in Petra. Actually that makes it sound quick. We were on this incredibly deserted very long steep road for a few hours. We even wondered (okay Kiran wondered) if we might be getting kidnapped. But we finally arrived. Our hotel, the Movenpick, was simply exquisite with the rich tile work and elegant inlay wood furniture being particularly memorable. The next day, after a delicious buffet breakfast, we walked into ancient Petra. This lost city, which Jordan is trying to get on the new Wonders of the World list (a ridiculous international contest whereby people call in their votes on their cell phones), was the home of the Nabataean people, who made their living by initially plundering but then simply taxing the trade caravans that traversed this strategic mountain pass. They built homes, a treasury, an amphitheater, and many tombs into these colorful sheer-faced mountains. The result is stunning. Walking through the Siq Gorge as it cut a narrow winding slice over a kilometer through towering and mysteriously layered rock was unforgettable. We were so fortunate to be unprepared for the moment when we turned a corner and saw the famed Treasury building through the distant slit at the end of the gorge – simply awesome!

We wandered around for hours, seeing impressive rock-cut work and vast desert vistas. We stopped and talked to some Bedouins, and I was surprised to learn that many of those working in Petra now had as recently as 20 years ago actually lived in caves in this ancient lost city. Now they've been resettled to apartments at the top of a nearby hill to make room for the tourists. They seem OK with it overall, as they have special access to Petra for selling handicrafts. I saw three middle-aged Bedouin men joking around, looking so traditional on the surface in their turbans and wool village clothing. I sat to talk to them, speaking slow childish English for ease of understanding when one of them responded nearly fluently by asking me where I'm from and what I do. After that, he showed me a little statuette he was selling that depicted a couple having intercourse. If that wasn't surprising enough, he then asked if there was something he could do to perform like the man in this couple. Basically, he was asking for Viagra. Cave to Viagra in 20 years.

We climbed 800 steps along a cliff (Kiran and I on donkeys part of the way, which was harrowing at times) to reach the Monastery, which was probably our favorite building of Petra, beautifully preserved with perfectly round giant columns and a feeling of peace, away from those tourists who don't bother with the ascent. Sitting at the edge of this magnificent structure 5 guys played traditional Bedouin music (4 singing, 1 on the oud – a guitar-like instrument). They were great and did it for fun, no money, no posing. We had so much fun just sitting there, drinking tea, listening to music, watching the sunset, that we left a bit late. OK, really late. Basically, we were THE LAST tourists left in Petra and it was getting dark. We walked as quickly as we could along the 4-5km path back to the main entrance, but about halfway there it got really really dark. With only the moonlight guiding us, we walked back through the Siq Gorge, over its dangerously large cobblestones and uneven surfaces and through its eerie silence. The camaraderie and adventure of that moment were fantastic.

That night we had a drink in a very cool ancient cave tomb turned bar – I know it sounds tacky, but actually there are many hundreds of such cave-tombs and this one is far from the heart of the Petra itself; I think they did a great job with this place. We had a Bedouin dinner at local dive, which was tasty. The next day Kiran relaxed back at the hotel while Madh, Vivek, and I went back to Petra for a final look, which involved getting lost on the back of a mountain. Then we headed back to Amman, stopping at an ancient Crusader castle, which was closed but with guards nice enough to let us in anyway. We finished the night in Amman at that Lebanese restaurant that Kiran and Vivek liked – it was very good.

The next morning it was back to Istanbul.

istanbul, march 22-25, 30-31

After flying for 10 hours across all of Asia in one shot, we were in Istanbul. We woke up the poor manager of Alzer Hotel at 5:30AM and he showed us to our adorable typically-tiny European room with the first real hotel artwork we had seen in months, from paintings in our room of nargil (water pipe) smoking in Turkish cafes to beautiful ceramic tile work in the corridors with natural hues of blue, green, and red. Later, walking along hilly curving cobblestone streets amidst dark clouds and cold drizzling rain, we knew we were in Europe. Smelling juicy chicken shwarmas spinning before us while the friendly purveyor asked us bluntly where we’re originally from and busted out with some Farsi, we knew we were still in Asia too. Thus goes a clichéd but seemingly accurate description of this city that literally straddles two continents.

We spent the bulk of the afternoon blogging as we awaited the arrival of our dear friends Kiran and Vivek. We were so excited to look up from our hotel lobby to see them walking across the famed Hippodrome towards us – it was the beginning of an unforgettable time with them. That night we ate a good dinner and caught up on each other’s lives. Kiran is 5+ months pregnant and all is well. She told us how the baby loves chocolate, and in fact that night during dessert he started kicking in appreciation as if on cue. It was such a treat to catch up with good friends, though real life back in San Francisco seemed so distant and even scary.

The next day we started a morning tradition of breakfast on the top floor of our hotel, which was just awesome. After we cut fresh bread, gathered dried figs, walnuts, raisins, real honeycomb, natural apricot and strawberry jams, nutella, and cereal (all but Madhavi’s preference), or had bread with olives, feta cheese, tomatoes, and cereal (Madhavi’s preference) along with cherry or orange juice and tea from a samovar, we would sit at a table and look out at the panoramic views of our European-side peninsula and its most famous structures from which the Byzantine and Ottoman emperors ruled vast swathes of the world for centuries. Just as they did, we would watch the sun rising in Asia on the other side of the Bosphorus (the famed strait connecting the Mediterranean and Black Seas and partly dividing Europe from Asia).

We then headed out and started our 3-day plan to see the town. Kiran, who had studied the guide book and read much about Istanbul beforehand, led us with skill. We started by walking 10 feet onto the Hippodrome,where an Egyptian obelisk shared space with an ancient 3-headed snake, and then saw the Blue Mosque, a magnificent defining Ottoman-style structure with 6 towering minarets and a magical glow from the lights that flood it at night. Inside I was most impressed by how many Iranian tourists there were, though I did make the effort to get the best possible pictures of the place by using Madhavi’s head as a stand for my tripod (a technique that does not work at all).

Later we got lost and found ourselves escaping the rain in a very cute teashop with pretty carpet-like tabletops drinking Turkish coffee (which is really strong) and fresh apple tea, the latter being what we stuck with the rest of the time. When we found our way, we checked out the gaudy but sometimes gorgeous excesses, including jewels and art and booty, of the Ottomans in Topkapi Palace. Vivek, along with Kiran, provided excellent historical and geographic pearls as we toured these sights. Part of the joy of traveling with them was their genuine interest in discussing and learning about countries and places we saw rather than just indulging – though we certainly did some of that too, don’t get me wrong.

Getting lost, it turned out, became a somewhat recurring theme and each time (as expected) it would bring with it interesting experiences, like being just a few hundred meters away from the a main tourist drag but seeing no tourists but rather just quiet streets with cute homes and regular shops and eventually ending up at the beautiful Mini Haghia Sophia, where the four of us were graciously allowed in by the gatekeeper and were able to amble around a humble centuries-old mosque with a carefully restored interior of bright blues and whites for 20 minutes without a single other person there.

Over the next couple days we saw fascinating sights like the actual Haghia Sophia, Istanbul’s most famous structure, which was originally built in the 7th century by the Byzantine Christians and later modified by the Ottoman Muslims and contains colorful mosaics of Jesus and saints alongside striking Islamic calligraphy and ceramic work. Now functionally a museum only, it is less than beautiful on the outside due to careless fortifications of the past, but the interior dome is awesome and for many years that dome was the world’s greatest. We descended down into cavernous Basilica Cistern, where the hundreds of columns support this very old and for many years secret underground reservoir (that now holds occasional concerts which we were not fortunate enough to see). We walked alongside the colorful stalls of the Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, where Kiran and Vivek bought a beautiful Persian carpet and very cool Turkish tile ceramics. Our boat trip down the Bosphorus, the river that separates Europe and Asia, was fun though cold – Vivek and I ran around taking pictures against the cold cross-wind while Madhavi and Kiran cuddled to stay warm.

Other particularly memorable moments were tea at the immaculate and tastefully decorated Four Seasons, going back again and again to this small neighborhood joint (name escapes us) to sit upstairs and eat wonderful lamb and chicken shwarmas, going to Asitane for a rare chance to eat some of the very dishes served hundreds of years ago to the Ottoman King (most of which were nearly lost to history by royal secrecy) while listening to live classical Turkish music, and a night out in the uncomfortably wild and super-hip happening section of town called Nevizade, where we just escaped into the least smoky place we could find for a good dinner while the beautiful people laughed and stared and acted the night away just outside.

One unforgettable experience was going to a Turkish bath with Vivek. Imagine descending down the steps of a 400+ year old bathhouse and paying $50 to bake on a marble slab in the historic bath/sauna with 15 other guys and becoming dehydrated and light-headed before finally Igor the 1976 Turkish Olympic wrestling champion exfoliates you with a giant scrub and then bends you like a pretzel almost snapping you in half while pouring unnecessarily warm water on your overheating body and telling you afterwards that he’ll be waiting at the door for a “tip”. Somehow Vivek remembers this experience fondly. Madhavi was in the women’s section and was handled more gently. Kiran, being pregnant, wisely opted out.

Istanbul was wonderful, as above, but could be maddening too. There was a fair share of deceit and trickery (like a cabbie asking for way too much money in the first place and then topping it off with a sleight-of-hand trick where he turns your $50 bill into a $5 bill and tells you didn’t pay enough – Vivek, you weren’t just imagining it, the same thing happened to us after you guys left). Most people were great, though, and overall this Muslim country (like Malaysia), though recently relying on IMF bailouts and still quite corrupt, is prospering with booming tourism, 6 zeros removed from its now stable currency, an increasingly genuine democracy, and apparently a pretty cool music scene. Much of this can be attributed to one person, Ataturk, who in one of history’s great upsets defeated European naval powers in WWI to maintain control of strategic Istanbul before virtually single-handedly creating the new country of Turkey and taking it along a blazing path of modernization that included a secular government and replacing Arabic script with Roman. He is absolutely revered and his picture is everywhere; it’s a somewhat less cultish version of the King of Thailand phenomenon.

On our last day in Istanbul, after returning from Jordan, Madh and I said goodbye to Kiran and Vivek, which was sad as we had such a great time with them. We smoked nargils in a tiny 4-table red wall joint then ran around in the wind and rain desperately trying to get money out of any ATM. We finished with a night in a packed restaurant where locals were nice enough to let us sit at their table where we all drank some Arak (the Turk’s beloved black licorice alcohol, which they drink like water) while a band of musicians went to each table and boisterously played Turkish favorites. It was a lovely way to end our stay, and after we had fallen for the sleight-of-hand trick earlier in the night, it was so great that our last cab driver (donning the traditional Muslim cap) not only charged too little but absolutely refused to take more even though we insisted.

beijing, march 18-21

For the first time in our trip, we revisited a country, though this visit to Beijing included a little time working. I had the opportunity to visit the Department of Medicine at Peking Union Medical Center to evaluate and try to help improve the exchange program between PUMC and UCSF. My three days in the hospital were really great! Patients from all over China are referred to the hospital so there are many people with incredibly challenging and interesting health problems (Nima adding parenthetically here - for the physicians out the cases included FUO x 6 months, Q3day relapsing fever x 1 month with neg smears and no physical findings, intubated floor patients with myasthenia flares, amazing though sad rheumatology cases like relapsing polychondritis, Bechet's, and SLE with pancytopenia and renal failure [cyclophosphamide is in the water at this hospital]). I learned a little about China's ailing health care system, which has some of the same issues as our own though often worse as their system is even more privatized. But the most remarkable part of my tıme was the opportunity to meet so many kind students, residents and attendings. They generously interpreted for me, toured me around the hospital, and took Nima and I out for a wonderful Hunan food where we had a chance to try about 20 different dishes. I was particularly struck by the pleasantness of the work environment with people often laughing and by the enthusiasm with which everyone discussed medicine.

Nıma joined me for part of the time at the hospital but mainly he tried to get some of his own work done and catch up a little on the blog. He also had a chance to wander around and re explore Beijing- once again in the freezing cold (especially compared to the sweltering heat of Cambodia). One morning he met a trio from the Chinese province of Inner Mongolia. He shared a traditional tea tasting in a lovely tea shop with a tree trunk table especially made for trying multiple teas. They shared their thoughts about China. When we met in the afternoon he told me stories about the alleyways and neighborhoods where the Forbidden City workshops used to lie but which are now blocked by a giant wall while they undergo "restoration". One theme that we have seen during our short time in China is the covering up, or maybe even destruction of historical areas, to clean them up for tourist eyes. It seems ubiquitous and particularly sad ın a country with such a long history. And perhaps in part because of the obvious material success of the Chinese modernization scheme, most Chinese (at least those that we met) don't complain.

These few days reminded us, though, of how you get such a different view of a place when you work with or hang out with locals, and in this case our view was made much more positive. We are excited to go back to work with the Chinese physicians again.

svay rieng, cambodia, march 14-16

Our last couple of days in Cambodia were spent in the small town of Svay Rieng, about 10 km from the border of Vietnam and the home of Maggie and Matt. Described as a transit town with "nothing to do" and "absolutely nothing to see" by Lonely Planet (which after a while is exactly what you're looking for), it provided us with two fantastic days with friends and time to tour the countryside by bicycle. The bustling market holds a treasure of delicious tropical fruits like mangoes, rambuttan, dragon fruit, mien, pomelos, and so many others we couldn't name. The roadside noodle soup warmed our stomachs. And Svay Rieng's only true restaurant, aptly named Svay Rieng Restaurant, served up delicious fare.

Maggie and Matt (thanks Matt for taking us in even before Maggie returned) were wonderful hosts, treating us to homemade hummus and a feast for breakfast and lots of great conversation. They were able to give us some insight into the issues that Cambodians face as they recover from their past. Their experience continues to remind me of how privileged we are to be able to discover and learn the way we are.

Our bike rides took us along the river and through dirt paths to the now dry rice fields. We had a few conversations (well, at least exchanges of gestures and facial expressions) with curious onlookers. The countryside contrasts so profoundly with Phnom Pehn and Siem Reap. Poverty is more evident. But so is community.

As usual it was hard to leave. We wish we had planned more time in Cambodia but we had to head back to Beijing for a few days of work (I am definitely not complaining as the work which I will describe later was incredibly fun).

siem reap, cambodia, march 12-14

The bus ride to Siem Reap took a relatively easy six hours. We arrived at our very beautiful guesthouse with its small cabins set amongst a tropical garden well rested and ready to start our visit. Our first trip was to the Artisans D'Angkor Silk Farm about 30 minutes by tuk-tuk from the center of town. We heard rave reviews and so were incredibly excited to go-- we weren't disappointed. Artisans is an organization dedicated to training young people in traditional Khmer crafts while creating a sustainable and fair work environment including a living wage and medical coverage. One of their workshops is a silk farm and loom weaving project. They walk you through the process of raising and feeding silk worms, obtaining raw and fine silk threads (400 meters from each cocoon!!!), using natural dyes, and then weaving. It can take more than 24 hours for a handloom artist to weave a meter of silk cloth. The textures and colors were spectacular. If you are ever in Siem Reap, it is definitely worth the visit.

Like ın Phnom Penh we ate famously. The Foreign Correspondents Club, the Blue Pumpkin, Le Borann-- all served up tasty dıshes from tofu salads and fresh spring rolls to lobster pumpkin soup and fısh amok. We delighted in the tastes even though we could barely beat the heat even in the darkness of night. At almost every meal in Siem Reap we cooled ourselves with magnificently chilled coconuts which seemed bottomless. They were so sweet we almost wondered if sugar was added.

We spent our first full day in town at the famous temples of Angkor - Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. Anticipating the mid-day break from the scorching sun and hoping to catch the sunrise we started our day very early. Though there are dozens of beautiful temples, in various states of preservation, spread over more than 60 km, we only had a chance to visit a few. Built at the height of the Khmer empire about 1000 years ago, the massive temples are dedicated to Hindu gods and later to Buddha. The intricate bas-reliefs at Angkor Wat extend for hundreds of meters and depict stories from the Hindu epic The Ramayana. The central temple pyramids represent the mythical mountain home of the gods and tower high above with views of the surrounding forest. Perhaps one of our favorite temples was Ta Prohm where the forest and the temple have melded together with massive tree trunks and temple walls coexisting almost without borders. Of all of the carvings, the most interesting were those depicting daily life - from war to alcoholism and gambling to eating at restaurants to playing chess to getting eaten by tigers.

Barely hidden behind the veneer of the grand beauty of Angkor, the devastation of Cambodia continues to be prominent ın Siem Reap. Sadly, even Angkor has not spread its current prosperity to the Cambodian people. Due to loans and corruption in the government, a foreign oıl company basically owns the lease to the temples and only 10% of the proceeds goes to temple preservation. The rest makes into oil company and ministers' pockets.

Even sadder still is the legacy of almost a half century of war - landmines. Though it is estimated that 3 million landmines have already been cleared, more than six million remain. Planted by the Khmer Rouge, the Vietnamese, and the Americans the mines lurk in rice fields and villages throughout the country. We visited the small Siem Reap Landmine Museum. It was founded by Aki Ra, a man who as a 5 year old boy had his entire family murdered before being abducted and (like many children at the time) trained to become a killing machine for the Khmer Rouge. The museum is a collection of small wooden huts off a pothole-ridden dirt road where he and his family live. Covering the walls of the huts are articles, manuals, pictures, and a wealth of other information about landmines. Hundreds and hundreds of deactivated mines and unexploded munitions lay piled on the ground. Ra and a cadre of former soldiers and villagers have tried to start the process of removing some of the very mines they placed years ago.

The reality of the violence of landmines hit hardest in the stories of the children living at his home. He and his wife have adopted more than 30 children, most of whom have survived landmine blasts, often losing their families and limbs in the process. The fact that mines continue to be created and planted throughout the world makes me less hopeful about the future. But Aki Ra and hıs family's dedication add a little light to that bleakness.

phnom penh, cambodia, march 8-11

After the exhilaration of Borneo, we hopped on two planes and landed in Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital. We expected Cambodia to be quite a different experience, given its recent history, but we were eagerly anticipating it because we had planned to meet Madhavi's good friend from high school, Maggie, and her significant other Matt, who are both living there in the countryside doing NGO work. We were excited to spend time with them, and we knew it would be such a privilege to see a new country with people who understood it from the perspective of many months actually working there.

We were naive enough to agree to a tuk-tuk ride from the airport into town, which meant that we sat in a carriage attached to a scooter with a horsepower engine (there is no missing number) and chugged along anemically for the 6km ride. It was actually a nice way to see the city up close, including all the items for sale inside every shop and all the interesting people walking by (in both the backward and forward directions). And, hey, we saved 2 bucks!

We arrived at our guesthouse by the lake, where we were given a giant room with A/C and French colonial trimmings for $15 a night. As we ventured out, we were surprised that this country, which until 1998 was considered too dangerous to visit and is among the poorest in the world, was already so full of young tourists. We would later realize that many foreigners are expatriates doing NGO work here, like Maggie and Matt. Our alley was quite backpackery but pretty cool nonetheless, with a laid-backness that distinguishes Phnom Penh from its bigger, richer, wilder cousin Bangkok. We walked down a random twisting alley through a poor neighborhood where we saw kids running around mostly naked playing soccer with old sandals, men and women playing cards with the same flair that we saw in China, and women painting their toddlers' nails. We were immediately struck by how warm and inviting Cambodians were towards foreigners and how particularly loving they were with their families, especially children. That combined with this particular neighborhood scene reminded me of Andhra Pradesh and some of the impoverished areas of Hyderabad..

That night we went to Fed Ex to pick up the Persian-English dictionary my mom sent me (I'm desperate to learn as much as possible before we get to Iran), then we made it out to the riverside in the center of town and were blown away by how lively it was with thousands of people (mostly Cambodians) crowding the sidewalks. The next day we met up with Maggie and met Matt for the first time. They took us to Rondeng, a hip restaurant (which is an extension of a local NGO for street kids) with excellent local dishes including fish amok, which combines coconut milk and lemongrass to delicious effect. They told us about the work they are doing helping those with HIV (Maggie) and children who are trafficked for sex or illegal work (Matt).

To finish the obligatory food talk, the next two days we would treat ourselves to some of the best international cuisine we've sampled anywhere, from the rooftop of a fantastic Mediterranean place called Tamarind (awesome lamb shwarma) to Pop Cafe, a phenomenally good Italian restaurant run by an Italian expat and his Cambodian wife serving up unbeatable home-made Tagliatelli pasta with salmon and a light cream sauce and other wonders that brought us back the following weekend - sometimes you can't resist. These are restaurants we would have known nothing about if weren't for our friends taking us there (we would have probably just stuck with Cambodian food, which is excellent in its own right).

The best part about dinner, though, was our company. Maggie, Matt, and the handful of their friends that joined us for dinner were so interesting, all doing noble work for and with impoverished and victimized Cambodians while not taking themselves too seriously (in fact they were refreshingly candid and even self-deprecating). The rooftop dinner at Tamarind stood out as we sat out on a perfectly humid night with four engaging people for over three hours and learned so much about life in Cambodia that we never could have fully appreciated otherwise. Such as...the peculiar hierarchy and even egomania of the NGO community, the pathetic and sad opportunism of Western men who transform from relative outcasts in their home countries to virtual Gods with women half their age and none of their wealth, and lighter topics such as the identity of all those wonderful tropical fruits that you see everywhere in this part of the world. That particular night we also went to a really fun nightclub mostly patronized by Cambodians where we danced past midnight - maybe the third time on our trip abroad that we've joined the hip and beautiful who do such things routinely.

Lurking in the background, hidden but at the same time eerily exposed ("need a tuk-tuk to the killing fields"), is another Cambodia. It is a history that, considering its scale and gravity, we've heard far too little about - I was certainly quite ignorant about the details until this visit. From 1975-1979 the regime of Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge, purporting to roll back the clock to some agrarian utopia, systematically tortured and killed teachers, doctors, lawyers, journalists, and anyone else who had been "tainted" by a higher education (wearing glasses was enough to warrant a death sentence). We visited their most notorious torture prison, S21, and its associated "killing field" called Cheong Ek. What we saw, read, and heard was so horrifying, so cruel without limit, that I cannot and would not describe it in words written or spoken. It shocks you into numbness, and you feel guilty that you aren't crying at every turn. But when you leave and reflect back, perhaps it is that guilt, and the guilt of knowing that it keeps happening, and the contrast with whatever mundane comfort you happen to be enjoying while you reflect, that makes you cry.

Pol Pot died in 1998, and though the country is still devastated many Cambodians have moved on in spirit and their biggest city now exudes a positive energy that is contagious. And with that we moved on, excited to see monuments of a more glorious age for this turbulent slice of the South Pacific.

kinabatangan and sipadan, sabah, malaysia, march 5-7

From Sandakan we decided to spend the night in a forest camp along the Kinabatangan River. We chose to go with Uncle Tan's (yes the same group that owns our favorite guesthouse - they're actually very nice and have a rustic jungle camp a few hours away). Their van took us, along with some Swedes and Italians, to a dock where we started the first of several boat safaris along the muddy brown river. The forest along the river's edge is relatively young. Most of the primary forest was logged about a decade ago so what remains is new growth plants and flowers. But the area is still home to tons of birds, monkeys, crocodiles, and orang-utans. The egrets, eagles, hornbills, and kingfishers made us realize why people get really into bird-watching. We couldn't stop watching them as they took off from the water and soared effortlessly high above us. We did not see any wild orangs but the monkeys were definitely a sight. They played and jumped on the most unlikely tiny branches, causing them to bend almost to the point of breaking before jumping off just in time. The most unusual species was the Proboscis monkey with a huge red nose that seems to be glued to its small face.

Our campsite had a few stilted cabins with mattresses on the floor and bed nets (we really appreciate mosquito nets!!!) and no running water. But it provided an unobtrusive spot from which to view the animals. Huge (kind of ugly) wild bearded pigs wander through the grounds and macaque monkeys will steal anything that is left around. At night, huge owl and crocodile eyes stare out from the river. The staff at the camp have lived there for as long 16 years and know the land and the animals around them. And they love their home. The other campers were mainly from Europe and Russia. But, once again we were reminded of the smallness of our world when we met Maureen, a very sweet 14Long UCSF nurse who happens to be traveling around Asia.

At Sepilok and Kinabatangan, a few people told us that Sipadan, a tiny island about 30km off the southeastern coast of Sabah, is one of the greatest scuba diving spots in the world. Its been a few years since we last went diving but Nima and I both really enjoy it so we hastily made arrangements to get there. The island itself is protected and there a limited number of dive permits per day. The Malaysian Navy maintains a small base on the island to provide protection for the reef but the rest is closed off for turtles to lay their eggs. People stay in the small coastal town of Semporna (where we stayed) or on one of a few islands off the coast. On one night out, we ran into Maureen again and met some kind folks from Italy and the UK and enjoyed a couple of perfect nights along the waterside.

But really, the most wonderful part about the visit was our dives. Though Nima had to become Pierre Henrik and I became Katrina Seymadskwa (at least according to our coveted permits), we were VERY lucky to get two full days (and six dives) at Sipidan, having booked so last minute. The water undulates between deep blues and greens. The reef is steep, sometimes up to a 1200 meter drop almost straight down. And the reef lifeforms were simply enthralling. The coral and plants provided a colorful backdrop for the even more arresting colors of the fish. Tiny blue fish, gray jacks, and barracudas all swarmed around us. There was almost too much to see. Sharks of many different species rested along the sand as the world swam by them.

But best of all were the giant turtles whose tranquil eyes stole our hearts. More than a meter in length, their size belies their magnetic peacefulness and kindness. They seem to be remarkably perceptive, and when you approach them calmly they await your visit or let you coast above them as they swim into the deep blue waters beyond. I keep having dreams where I'm in the sea surrounded by the turtles and the vivid fish. I can't wait to go underwater again. We were not quite ready to leave but our next stop was Phnom Pehn Cambodia and the chance to see my dear friend Maggie from high school made leaving a lot easier.

As we tried to leave Malaysia, though, we had another travel snafu akin to our woes in Bangkok. We arrived at the small domestic Air Asia airport in Kuala Lumpur with minimal time to spare to catch our next flight. After a very lengthy wait for our luggage, we missed the interterminal bus so we ran to the curb to catch overpriced taxi. After rushing into the international airport with 45 minutes to spare before our flight to Phnom Penh we searched the board to figure out where to check in. Unable to find our flight listing, we headed to the information desk where, with a look of bemusement, the agents told us that (as everyone knows) all Air Asia flights, including international flights, depart from the domestic airport- the one we had just left! So we desperately ran out of the airport and dove head first into another taxi. The kind driver, sensing our panic, reassured us that he knew a short cut and that we would definitely make it - "no problem, no problem" he repeated. After running back into the correct airport we tried to check in our bags but they were way overweight. So Nima tore them open and started throwing our underwear and socks onto the check-in counter to figure out how much we could stuff into our carry-ons to save the all-important 20 bucks. After barreling through immigration with our nearly exploding backpacks we ended up standing in the boarding line with a few minutes to spare - already starting to laugh at our own antics.

sepilok and sandakan, sabah, malaysia, march 1-4

We were beaten and bruised, having ascended 7500 feet and descended 7500 feet in 28 hours. We limped onto the bus heading east for the 5 hour ride towards Sepilok and the orang-utan sanctuary. We told the bus to stop in front of Uncle Tan's Guesthouse, but they seemed to drop us off in the middle of nowhere. I asked the bus conductor where Uncle Tan's was, and he pointed to a decrepit warehouse with a single light shining on one side before he threw our bags at us, jumped back into the bus, and left us in a puff of exhaust and dirt. So with our increasingly heavy backpacks and a 3rd bag with broken wheels in hand (that we just bought one week ago) and in the dark, we walked down the dirt road towards this place. Well, he was right - that was Uncle Tan's!

Our dorm room had a window, a very lazy fan, and two cheap aluminum-tube bunk beds. The lack of hot water or even towels didn't matter - the cold shower was great. After scarfing down some food, we were ready to sleep. Madh hopped up to the top bunk of her bed while I took the bottom bunk of mine. But the fan was pathetic and I was boiling, so I got up and started dragging my 15 pound double-decker towards the center of the room. I moved it maybe 1 foot when the top bunk collapsed and crashed onto the bottom one. We were so exhausted that frankly we just didn't care. Madh stuck to her trusty top bunk like a rock and I jumped onto my new two-mattress open-air bed and we slept within 3 seconds. During the night various pieces of the bed continued to fall off as if I were Wile E. Coyote at the end of a Road Runner cartoon.

Now on to the purpose of our visit. We came to Sepilok to see the orang-utans, a wonderful and unfortunately threatened species of great ape. Logging and palm oil plantations have destroyed most of the primary forest in Sabah, resulting in the destruction of their natural habitat. As a result many orangs are orphaned and die. The rehabilitation center retrains them to be in the forest environment, a process which can take up to 10 years. In order to raise awareness about their plight, visitors are allowed to watch them during two daily feedings.

One glimpse of the orangutans and we were hooked. They are so cool! Years ago in Uganda we had seen the other famous species of great ape, the mountain gorilla, who are actually more social than the solitary orangs. But being uncannily human and adorably charismatic, the orangutans are captivating. We stood and watched them swing effortlessly to the feeding platform, often stopping to gaze at the crowds while posing in hilariously contorted positions. I was so happy for Madhavi whose original inspiration to come to Borneo was to see these guys.

It was pretty interesting to see the macaque monkeys sneaking in from various hiding positions to try to steal some food. The sanctuary allows this competition to teach the orangs to eventually fend for themselves. In fact they only arrange these feedings for the more recently orphaned apes - the more mature ones are weaned slowly and eventually learn to find the multitude of berries and such that make up their natural diet in the wild part of the reserve. The rehabilitation center has released one dominant male orang-utan into the wild. Sadly, when they are released there is no way to know what happened to him - the staff that forms quite a tight bond with these beautiful animals simply say goodbye forever. We were very impressed with the integrity and purpose that this sanctuary demonstrated.

We then headed to the relatively untouristed seaside town of Sandakan for a 1.5 day break to organize some plane flights, do what we're doing now (writing the blog), and to recover from Mount Kinabalu. Poor Madhavi, despite her bravery, was sidelined due to the incredible leg soreness she had from the mountain climb. She actually needed major assistance to even get up a flight of stairs (despite a horribly injury-prone musculoskeletal system, for some reason I rarely get sore, though even I was feeling it that first day). Madh was reassured when we ran into other people who required the same recovery time.

In Sandakan we finally got to try roti canai, a flat bread composed of multiple super-thin layers prepared over a hot oil pan. We sat at a table next to the warm-spirited chef and got to watch him stretch and spin and fold the dough into its final shape. He did this all night, as this is a very popular dish and for good reason - it's so deliciously warm and buttery.


As we usually do, we found one good internet spot with a fast connection and kept coming back. I should take a detour and tell you that it takes quite a bit of time to keep up this blog, though the hours we spend every week writing and choosing pictures are really satisfying to us. And for the first time in my life I am writing a personal journal as well - it's never too late, and I hope to keep it up indefinitely (Madhavi of course has kept one since she was about 9 years old - I'm very jealous). Anyway, we got to know the owner of the shop pretty well and he recommended a good seafood place on the bay where we ended up having a great dinner -we've learned that almost ANY suggestion from a local is more reliable than the most recommended restaurant in a guide book.

Soon enough it was off to the jungle.

mount kinabalu, sabah, malaysia, february 27-march 1

For some reason, I have always wanted to go to the island of Borneo so I was pretty excited as we took off from mainland Malaysia and headed east. The island is shared by Malaysia, Indonesia, and the tiny country of Brunei. We decided to go to the Malaysian state of Sabah on the northeastern part of the island.

We flew into the capital Kota Kinabalu. As with our first day or so in any new country, much of the day was spent trying to learn the local geography, local transportaion, and to plan onward travel. At times these hours can be frustrating as we are often walking back and forth from office to office or lodge to lodge, usually in the heat. But it is definitely worth the flexibility that is afforded by open-ended travel. The town itself is small and we didn't find it particularly exciting. But one wonderful part is the collection of five islands located 5 km off the coast that make up Tunku Abdul Rahman National Park. The islands are protected and are made up jungles and small patches of beautiful white sand beaches. The boat raced us there fast (really fast), so we ended up with three hours to relax along the beach and hike into the forest. Dinner was an introduction to the delicious seafood that typifies Malaysian island fare and really whet our palates for the days to come. We tried to get to bed early planning rest before our attempt to climb Mount Kinabalu.

Located about 2 hours inland from KK, Mt Kinabalu is one of the tallest mountains in Southeast Asia. Low's peak, at about 13,500 feet, lies well above the clouds and was the goal of the climb. After registering at the park headquarters, stowing our packs, and finding our guide we started our trek from Timpohon Gate at 6,000 feet. I had previously experienced some mountain sickness so we made sure to take acetazolamide just in case.

The first 6 km to the overnight rest stop took us through beautiful lowland forest and then through cloud forest. Populated with orchids and pitcher plants, the area is known for its unique endemic plant and bird life. We took our time up the steep grade, happy to see every new kilometer marker, stopping to admire the flowers and the views and for me to rehydrate. It had rained the night before so the air was fresh and the temperature almost perfect for the climb. We arrived well before sunset and headed out to the porch of the lodge to watch a stunning sunset behind the peaks. After a warm shower and warm food and setting our alarms for 2AM (2AM!), we layered against the cold and crawled into our dorm beds to go to sleep - at 7:30PM (7:30PM!). Despite our fatigue the noise of the crowd made it difficult to sleep. But when the alarm went off at 2AM, none of us were complaining. Excitement about reaching the peak before sunrise propelled us forward.

The 2.8 km climb to the peak took us across granite rock face, at times steep enough that we required ropes to pull ourselves up. Above the clouds and in the pitch darkness of night, the milky way etched itself across the sky and the stars were astounding. Half my time was spent staring up, I have never seen so many stars twinkling. I urged Nima to move ahead to get more time at the peak while I stayed with our guide. He passed a bunch of people and was second to the top! Low's Peak seemed to be just a collection of boulders but as we huddled against the bitterly cold wind (an amazing contrast to the sweltering heat of KK), the boulders provided a wonderful shield while we awaited sunrise. The rising sun, though remaining hidden behind clouds, illuminated the majestic granite far into the distance. It was awe-inspiring to be standing on a summit, looking down at a sheet of clouds on one side, jagged mountain-tops on another, and the distant sea on yet another.

I wish the descent was as wonderful as the ascent. The almost 9 km trip down gave my knees and hips a huge reason to whine, and before we reached the bottom I was wondering if a joint replacement was not too far in my future. Each small curve uphill was a welcome respite. But the forest and flowers worked hard to distract me and the clear warm air warmed us after the cold morning at the peak. We made it back to the gate just in time to jump on the bus to Sepilok, and the Orang-utan sanctuary, about 5 hours to the east.

kuala lumpur, malaysia, february 25-26

After an overnight stop in Sri Lanka, where we saw a very lively fruit market, we arrived in Kuala Lumpur. A week prior, on a whim, we decided that we wanted to go to Borneo, the gigantic Asian Pacific island that is Malaysia in the north and Indonesia in the south. Madhavi has long had an occult fascination with this island, so we figured we'd check it out. Our planning for this was quite non-chalant, and to make a long story short, we had to stay in the Malaysian capital which is on the mainland peninsula rather than the island, for a couple days.

Admittedly I knew little to nothing about this country before we visited, but it turned out to be quite interesting. It was almost a culture shock coming from India as we stepped off the plane and into perhaps the most sparkling airport I've ever seen, and it was downright chilly from the A/C and the relative emptiness - where are the people! We caught the 150km/hr super smooth bullet train into town and in 100 degree weather with 100% humidity we lugged our annoyingly heavy bags on our sticky sweaty backs to Hotel Heritage, a lovely old British colonial/Islamic hybrid inside the old central train station. We walked into the lobby which is also a restaurant/bar full of character, retro style, and on this day a film set as well! So over the next couple days we saw the shooting of scenes about 1950s Malaysia with a storyline revolving around the national independence movement. For a guy who grew up around L.A. and once snuck onto the set of Baywatch as the "back-up camera technician", it was refreshing to meet movie-makers who were so normal, humble, and even inviting - they let me take pictures while they were filming! None of the shots came out well, though.

The hotel manager was a witty and gregarious ethnic Chinese woman whom I pestered with questions about the country - all Madhavi and I knew was from the guide book, which basically said that this is a Muslim country with a large Chinese and a smaller Indian minority. Amy Chua, in her interesting book "World on Fire", described how ethnic Chinese essentially own most of Southeast Asia, so I just crudely asked (with Madhavi appropriately shaking her head): "Do the Chinese own everything here?"..."Basically yes, but there were riots in 1969 so since then the Malays have special advantages in business, university, home loans, so they're doing better now."..."How do people get along?"..."Good now, no problems since the riots"..."What language do you speak at home?"..."Mandarin, but everyone also speaks Malay and many Chinese and Indians have been here for generations".

As we drove around town in taxis, we were struck by how prosperous this place looked, with shiny office towers and wide clean boulevards. All the cab drivers attributed Malaysia's wealth to "oil", but it turns out that's not really the major player. They basically produce industrial products like hard drives and cars and unfortunately they also log a lot of primary jungle and replace it with palm oil plantations.

However it happened, it is so reassuring to see a Muslim country that has created a pretty diverse economy, relative ethnic harmony, and even something resembling a real democracy. We noticed that there did actually appear to be some mixing of the three major ethnicities in social groups, and many of the Chinese and Indians were born here and consider themselves Malaysian.

On our first day, we went to a lame market before having decent Indian-Malay food and watching some street musicians. On the second day we spent 2 hours getting our Visa card rejected from multiple ATMs and yelling at Visa customer service on the phone - but at least all the banks had A/C. We went to the country's biggest mosque, the Masjid Jamek, which had an open design and beautiful gardens, and a poor Madhavi Dandu who was being cooked medium rare in the chador that she had to don for the visit. We saw the Malaysia history museum, which had very cool old beige-brown maps of Asia from centuries ago and a nice explanation of Malaysia's primacy (sitting between two opposing monsoons in the Straits of Malacca) as a stopping point in international trade between China, India, Persia, and the Arabs, and good exhibits on the arrival of Islam via Sufi missionaries in the 15th century and the devastation of Japanese occupation during WWII.

Of course we had to check out the Petronas Towers building, which was pretty awesome architecturally, though the super high-end mall on the inside (four floors of Gucci, Zegna, you get the point) was a bit overwhelming. We swung to other side of town to a gorgeous orchid garden, where Madhavi took the camera from me to get some shots specifically for her close friend Kiran. Then we ascended the 1400 ft Menara communications tower, where we got foggy views and a fancy audio tour but where we also saw two contributions from Esfehan, Iran, KL's sister city: one beautiful tiled half-dome and one technically impressive though overly sparkly cut-glass mirror dome, both on the ground level.

We then headed to the Arabic district for excellent chai and sheesha - oh what a nice reminder of Cairo! Just outside this district we happened upon an Iranian restaurant - wow, I had never seen Iran so well represented in a city other than L.A.! The khoresh and kababs were pretty good, though I was a bit frustrated than none of the waiters knew what "tahdig" was - I even wrote a request for the chef but I don't think he ever got it. We discovered a very hip and sexy outdoor lounge, but we felt tired and un-sexy and just kept walking.

Overall I liked KL, probably more than did Madhavi. But now it was off to Borneo, our real destination.

kochi, kerala, india, february 17, 21-24

Kochi, the capital city of Kerala, is really two towns: Fort Cochin and Ernakulum. It is shaped EXACTLY like the Bay Area with Fort Cochin being San Francisco and Ernakulum being the whole East Bay with downtown S.F. thrown in. We stayed in the cuter, quieter, breezier Fort Cochin. We had several days in Kochi because we loved Kerala so much that we delayed our flight out of India.

It was noon on the 17th and after checking into our modest guesthouse with the not-so-modest naked Scandinavians on the upstairs deck, we went for a walk and started baking in the heat. Then somehow we came up with the crazy idea of renting a scooter - it just seemed like it would be fun and cool, literally. Madhavi had never driven one and the last time I had was 15 years ago as a teenager in Bermuda, but we just showed up at a motorbike shop, gave this kid my Michigan driver's license, he gave us a key, we took off...... and we were hooked! It was so fun! We would go on to ride one pretty much every day, including on the twisting cliff-side and monster bus-laden roads of Munnar - don't worry Moms and Dads: we're out of India, back in our minds, and travelling on two feet or three-four wheels now. Besides, our wounds are healing well.

Two experiences in Kochi really capture its essence: the Kashi Art Cafe in a little way and Moosa our rickshaw driver in a big way. Before discussing them here are some rapid-fire moments in Kochi rather than the play-by-play: the first cruise on two wheels with the little engine whirling and the cool breeze flowing and us giggling like we were kids again; church after church and the major presence of a uniquely Indian Christianity; Jew Town (yes, that's the name) with its adorable spice stalls and bookshops, that great tailor who made wonderful $2 super-light linen shirts/pants for us, and the centuries-old synagogue with lovely Chinese floor tiles patronized by the few dozen remaining elderly Orthodox Jews in town; pulling rope with local fishermen at the gigantic and fascinating Chinese fishing nets; the tropical opulence of white wine in the courtyard of Malabar House; the colorful and painfully slow Kathakali silent play; losing a wallet; banana-leaf wrapped fresh fish imbued with coconut flavors served with pure pineapple juice with live sitar and tabla notes in the air under an orange blue sky on the seaside deck of Fort House Hotel.

At lunchtime you could find us at the Kashi Art Cafe. At the end of a narrow street just off the bay, the cafe is a welcoming open-air space where every day a group of quiet unassuming Keralans prepare a single deliciously simple vegetarian dish with a creative soup (carrot-orange cream one day) and garlic bread. We always had this with a cold lime soda sitting under a merciful fan and surrounded by a panoply of tall plants.
Besides being simply delightful, Kashi was also quite responsible, refusing to serve anything with plastic - they purified water themselves and served it in a cold glass bottle. Though most of the patrons were Westerners, this place just exuded character and typified laid-back and progressive Kerala.

One night we decided to go to the Cuban Film Festival in Ernakulum, so after wisely turning in our scooter we looked down the road and saw an autorickshaw heading our way. The driver was an eager boyish-looking 20-something who immediately got us laughing by asking for too much money and justifying it with "c'mon, I got a/c and the ride is like a Ferrari", both claims being comically absurd to anyone who's been in a rickshaw. As we started wheezing along at a max speed of 25 km/hr, he said "my name is Michael Schumacher but people call me Moosa". He continued the drive-by comedy with "you know her", pointing to a billboard, "she is a famous movie star and she is also my girlfriend, though she don't know that." Laughing and looking back for approval, he continues "our relationship is one-way street!". After finding out we're American, he said "you like the Beegees?" and before we could answer he busted out with "stayin' alive, ah ah ah ah" and even did the whole boogy finger to the sky thing. All this was fine, but after every joke he HAD to look back at our reactions while continuing to drive down an INDIAN city road! This meant that all manner of vehicles and animals would whizz by or veer out of the way while he was looking the wrong way howling at his own jokes.

So this guy seemed like just a clown, but his unbelievably slow pace (took an hour to get there) and the fact that we had the wrong movie time (another hour to get back) meant that we got to know a different side of him. After he proved his Spanish skills with "hasta la vista baby", I asked him if he knew what Arnold does now and he said "Yes, he is the governor of California; I watch the news". As the conversation turned to politics, he only became more animated: "Bush is not a smart man; all he thinks about is war, war, war but he does not understand the world". His commentary thereafter illustrated why Amartya Sen, the great Indian thinker, calls Kerala "the most socially advanced state in India". Moosa explained everything from the strict enforcement of minimum wage ("if the boss pays less than 200 rupees one day, the next day there are protests") to women's rights ("women run the home here, and if a nightclub or bar opens up, all the mothers get together and protest to shut it down") to the brilliant public education campaign that helped reduce Kerala's fertility rate to among the lowest in the world.

Moosa had free English-medium schooling up to age 18, and that he was a rickshaw driver that was so at ease with English was impressive. He is "communist", as is Kerala's government, and thinks religions cause problems, but he also studies all the major faiths and said "I believe in God in my heart". Revealing a critical eye towards pop culture, he described Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, two major Indian movie stars, as elitists whose films "are not about us, our lives". When summing up why the then-ruling BJP party lost so badly in elections a couple years back, he came up with an absolutely brilliant line: "people eat rice, not computers".

The conversation turned to money and how he may move to an Arab Gulf country to make extra cash (as do many Keralans) and dreams of buying a house for himself and his 8-month pregnant wife. But he finished this line of discussion by saying "but I don't want too much money; money brings problems; now I go home, be with my family, have dinner, go to sleep, just like that, no worries." As our time was coming to an end, I was almost hoping he would invite us to his house to meet his family and continue the great conversation. Instead, as we approached our hotel to end a perfectly pointless and wonderfully memorable two-hour drive, he left us with a poignant refrain: "This is Kochi: I am born here, I am living here, I will die here".

munnar, kerala, india, february 18-20

After a one day stop in Fort Kochi we grabbed a bus to head east into the Western Ghats to the town of Munnar which lies at about 1700 meters above sea level. The road there hugs the lush mountain's edge and as we approached we started to notice the undulating green of the tea plantations that make Munnar famous.

We got off at the first bus stop and headed towards the tourist information office where we asked for Mr. Joseph Iype. Our dear friends Jen and Scott stayed with Joseph and his wife a few years ago and highly recommended finding him. Unfortunately it was sunday and his office was closed, but some folks pointed out the way to his home and thought it would be okay if we dropped in. As we climbed the hill in an autorickshaw we saw plantation workers cutting tea levaes, gardens full of flowers, and the vast views of the mountains.

When we arrived at their home, we found that their four rooms were full. But Joseph and his wife served us tea and buscuits while he went on to give us information about hikes and places to visit throughout Munnar. For decades, he and his wife have lived in this home and his love for and knowledge of the area really come through in his descriptions and hand-drawn maps. He pointed us to another guesthouse for the night, though luckily, we had a chance to stay Joseph and his wife our last two nights in Munnar.

We spent three days hiking and riding (on a scooter which I will describe in a few minutes) through the hills stunned by the view around each corner. Our first hike took us past the cardomom trees, eucalyptus, and tea plantations that dot the landscape. Though the sun was strong, the air was fresh and cool especially after several days in Indian cities. We stopped by the next morning at the Tea Museum and were walked through the process of tea production. The smells were delicious. Then we headed out about 40 km to visit Top Station, the highest point in the state on the border with Tamil Nadu. From the viewpoint you can see for kilometers and as the mist rolled in and out, different peaks and valleys became visible providing us with so much to look at. We ate passion fruit and tree tomatoes and drank tea and then eventually ended up at one of the lakes where we took a rowboat along the calm waters.

Our final day was spent on a scooter. We rented one in Fort Kochi, which Nima is going to describe, but basically we loved the freedom of it so we decided to do it again. The roads in Munnar, though, were a little crazy-- curved and narrow and with lots of giant vehicles twisting by-- we probably wont be riding along mountain roads like this ever again. But it was fun and luckily we were left with only minor scrapes and burns! We visited a spice garden and saw black pepper plants, cardomom trees, and cumin. We also saw chilis. One of the most amazing things that we leaned in Kerala was that chili peppers are not native to India and were introduced to the continent by the Portugese in the early 16th century!!!! Our last hike was up in Lockhardt Gap-- well the hike itself was short as we got a bit lost along the way but again the vistas were spectacular.

Our nights mostly ended with simple meals and some time on the Internet. By nightfall the air was cold and we had to snuggle under three blankets to keep warm. But we slept well and enjoyed the cool air before heading back to the seaside.

varkala/allepey, kerala, india, february 14-16

We debated a little bit about whether to leave India or remain just a bit longer to see the state of Kerala. I am so glad that we decided to stay. Our 10 days in Kerala were relaxing, fun, and most of all allowed us to experience a different side of India.

The state is unique in many ways. It is physically beautiful, situated on long sliver of the southwestern coast of the country, with endless beaches alongside red-rock cliffs and coconut trees everywhere. Over 95% of the population is literate and gender equality has been a prominent goal of the state. Over the last 60 years since independence, the Communist Party has retained most of the popular vote. Nima plans to describe more about this in the Kochi section so I'll just tell you a little about our days there.

Leaving our family and saying bye to the almost two months of time we had together was sad. On the plane ride we already began reminiscing. I think I have said it before: we are really grateful for this time that we had. But, as the plane began its descent over the sea of coconut groves and we spotted the waters where the Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea meet, we started to smile. We arrived in Trivinathapuram (though our luggage didn't) but headed straight out to the beaches at Varkala about 70 km to the north.

The place we stayed in was a wonderful gem. The four modernista-inspired cottages were built about one month before and they turned out the be one of the only available rooms in town and quite a steal. We loved it. The crimson and celadon fresco on the ceiling, the clay walls, the oil lamps, and the mosquito net cascading over the exceedingly comfortable bed made this place beautiful. The bathroom with a grass floor and open rock tiled tub added an air of freshness. Oh, and then the veranda, overlooking the beach and the ocean...eating fruit, reading, and listening to the waves crash--I am soothed as I picture it again. Our time in Varkala was spent walking along the beach below the cliffs and past so many fishing boats, all of which felt like a secret getaway as it was so easy to escape the tourists and tread a seemingly untouched coast. We ate great seafood, read a lot, and slept well.

Our next stop was Allepey. A wonderful town on the backwaters, it is known mainly for its lovely views from a houseboat. Backwaters are a series of natural canals that connect rivers and lakes and cut through serene villages. Small fishing boats are the main form of transportation and the villagers live a truly relaxed life. The houseboat itself provided a wonderful space to view the lush surroundings. When our houseboat parked at sunset, a young man rowed up to us in a canoe and asked if we wanted a ride. We weren't ready to call it a day so we hopped onto his boat and he took us through smaller canals while introducing us to his friends as we passed by. Meanwhile he described his life growing up in these beautiful village islands - how people here are content while Westerners and city-folk live a "pill life". In the background we heard the music from a nearby temple where they were starting the Sivarathri celebrations. After the canoe ride we asked if we could go into the village to the temple, so he parked the canoe and took us on a stroll through his hometown. After a brief visit to the temple (where Nima banged his head against an iron fence), Shyam invited us into his home. We met his grandparents, who were very sweet. Shyam started blasting his favorite Malayalam songs (Indian decibals) while his grandfather and Nima took shots of rum.

Our night back on the houseboat added the final sense of repose to our first few days in Kerala. In the morning, with Nima periodically punting the boat - basically using a large bamboo pole to propel the boat forward, essentially the old-fashioned way of moving these rice barges down the river - we returned to Allepey to head further north.