Allison A Janssen

Tag: adventure

  • The love bubble. YTT in Koh Lanta, Thailand

    The love bubble. YTT in Koh Lanta, Thailand

    I can’t really remember when I began saying…’When I see myself as an old woman, I see me in a black swim suite top, a flowing green sarong, the curls in my hair have been let loose, and there is glowing energy around me. I think I am a yoga teacher, a writer. I bear age lines of laughter, worldly experiences and I seem really content with my life. I’ve obviously lived a full life-bearing witness to both beauty and harsh realities. My husband is there, and so are like 6 of our grandchildren. I can’t see them, but I hear them all giggling and playing around in the living room. I myself am by the kitchen sink, in front of a sun filled window, hand washing dishes and smiling with an ear towards the living room.’

    I guess I started picturing (manifesting) the older, wiser version of myself somewhere in college. Early twenties for sure.

    And this is where the power of thought, the power of our minds comes into play. Back when I was living in Geneva, had someone told me where my life would travel over the next five years, I would have probably said to them, ‘perfect, yay, how did I do it?’

    Even now, writer seems way far out there. Let’s be real. I blog. I journal. I write for companies. And luckily, I write for a newspaper. It does make me a writer, but not an author- at least not an author in the sense I hope to one day be.

    So this picture in my head. It’s there. I think about it. And maybe by doing so, I have created circumstances for myself that link, or follow on the same path to my picture. Moving to Geneva, meeting my soul mate-Rob-in the streets of Barcelona (of all places), moving to Thailand, moving back to Geneva, completing my MASTERS, moving to Holland to be with Rob, traveling to foreign lands together, moving back to the USA together, and when he leaves for Army basic training… there somehow being an open window to create something new for myself. To accomplish something my soul was seeking.

    It was late March. I officially had over a month left to go of no communication with Rob. The window was there. I had narrowed my choices down to either reaching for my Yoga Teacher 200hr certificate or volunteering in Costa Rica at a homestead. Both options were great, but there was only one real choice-Yoga Teacher Training. Of course, I wanted to learn more about living off the land; but, my heart was leading me to yoga. My self-practice was strong, my mind was ready and my soul was already waiting there.

    So, I spent the next four hours googling. (Don’t you freaking love google!) Google sent me so many directions. My window became the world and I could travel most anywhere and become a yoga teacher. And then it happened. I saw ‘YTT 200 Intensive, Koh Lanta Thailand’. 

    ‘Sold,’ I thought.

    I literally danced in the living room, yelling over to my Mom… ‘Mom, I am going back to Thailand’.

    A one month program, 200 hours of training in Koh Lanta. In two months, I would become a certified yoga teacher! Whoop whoop!

    My excitement must have lasted a whole of 4 minutes.

    Minute number five, I sat back down at my computer. Minute six, I saw the price. Minute 6.15 my internal excitement came to a screeching halt.

    How in the hell could I make such a big financial decision without talking to my husband. Yes, he gave me the green light before he left on any trips or any decision that would lighten the load of being left at home. To do something that I always wanted to do. But, still… to have to make this decision about spending so much of OUR money alone. It was difficult.

    I of course, went back to my Mom. Told her my thoughts and we talked through it all. (Mom’s are better than google). I will spare you the details, because I obviously made the decision to go.

    The flight was lengthy. First stop, Moscow. Second stop, Singapore. Third stop, Bangkok (where I got to hang out with two dear friends of mine).

    Last stop, Krabi.

    The love bubble began to grow.

    Our hosts, Kate and Farrah (owners of Oasis Yoga of Koh Lanta), told me via email that I would meet one other YTT participant at the airport and that together we would be taken by car to Koh Lanta. Norbert was sitting on the side of the airport, patiently waiting. As I walked out with my luggage, our driver signaled Norbert with one hand and waved his ‘Allison Janssen’ sign at me with the other.

    Our long ride to Koh Lanta, was mostly filled with silence. A big inward journey had just taken flight.

    Once we arrived, we checked into our rooms and were told that everyone would be meeting in just a few hours for dinner.

    I quickly settled in, washed up and anxiously waited for 6:00.

    I think it would take me a whole book to actually explain to you the depths of YTT and our experience as Jai Yoga Arts trainees/graduates. So, I won’t do that. This post is already long enough.

    But, what I do what to say, I guess, can be felt through the review I gave Ella, just a month after the completion of our training.

    It went something like this…

    “Every time I reflect upon my Jai YTT experience, my heart begins to swell with both love and gratitude. The entire month of Jai YTT was simply ethereal, beautiful in every possible way. Ella Luckett constructed a course so entirely practical, truthful, challenging and engaging, both physically and philosophically. She completely filled it with her heart and soul. In the first days of the course, one of the questions Ella asked us, was what did we hope to gain out of this training. In my reply, I answered that I was seeking a sense of quiet confidence, confidence in myself as a yoga teacher. If I walked away with anything, quiet confidence was what I really needed. Now, a month later, I can honestly say I gained that sense of quiet confidence that I was pursuing and so much more! I walked away with knowledge of my Self that I will carry with me for the rest of this life, I gained peace in who I am on my yoga journey and how I can best share my passion and purpose with others. I learned to better appreciate every moment, to more sincerely realize that yoga is a journey that requires patience, and the beautiful part of the journey is the small singular moments we each take as individuals in a cosmic whole. While I genuinely cherish every moment we all shared during our month long experience, the silent mornings hold a special place in my heart. Every morning, accompanied by silence, I could feel the energies of my comrades around me. Together we built a love bubble; moving, breathing and growing in silence. It was magical. I am incredibly thankful to Ella as my guru, for the inspiration she is, and to the other sixteen beautiful individuals, all who I now proudly call friends.”

    Last words:

    Our thoughts are powerful. See where you want to be. Place that picture of yourself in your head and hold onto it. Edit it if you need to. When you act, question if your actions are leading you towards that place. Watch your soul open windows for you and jump through. Don’t let fear stop you. Move forward with kindness, trust and love.

    I know I am no where near that picture of myself. There is a lot of time and experiences still to come. I trust there is. But, I know that image I have in my head is me. I know that laugh in the other room… it’s Rob’s. Those childish giggles, I have no clue who they are, but I know I will one day. I love my journey. I trust it, whatever comes. But mostly, I am so thrilled to experience every little unfolding, every manifestation come into existence.

     

  • The Road Home

    The Road Home

    No matter how fond you are of traveling, how “at home” you feel on a stinky bus with one backpack in between your feet and your other “big guy” backpack stored above you, how strange faces are your familiar, how easily you can sleep most anywhere in the world, how accustomed your belly becomes, you somehow, always, find your feet on the road that leads to home.

    And so, after four and a half months of traveling through South Asia, the road home presented itself. We could have easily taken that flight to Australia and extended our trip for a month or so, but the timing was about right for us and our pockets, especially when we considered the fact that our application for Rob’s immigration to the USA with the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) should soon be returned to us in Holland. In agreement with our application, was the fact the next few months, from September to November would be the only time we could spend with our family before leaving again and beginning our US adventure. AND, we had a newborn baby niece, Isabeau, to meet! So, all roads led home. Lucky for us, the timing was also just right that we got to join in on Rob’s favorite festival- Reusel Kermis. Many of our friends from our former home in Eindhoven laugh a little bit about our excitement over Reusel Kermis, because to them, it is simply a bunch of village folk and farmers partying their behinds off in costume on the streets of Reusel. They might have a bit of a point. It is exactly that. BUT, that is precisely what makes it a really great time. The children have rides and games and the adults have  great music and cheap beer. It is an awesome four days and I am so glad we traveled the road home to Holland, just in the nick of time for it.

    While Kermis is loads of fun, it was the months that ensued after that brought so much lightness and warmth to our hearts. We spent our days waking up at whatever hour fit us best, going on runs through the forest, taking bike rides, visiting Oma, playing with our nieces, going to Reusel sport games, visiting aunts and uncles, hanging out with our brothers and sisters, chilling with our parents on easy evenings over dinner and really just enjoying life in Reusel without the hustle of a job. It was beautiful and memorable and I am forever grateful that a road will always lead home to Holland.

  • Sabah, Borneo, Magical Land, Dream World, any of these barely suffice.

    Sabah, Borneo, Magical Land, Dream World, any of these barely suffice.

    Ever since watching the Discovery Channel as a young child, I had dreamed of finding my way to Borneo. The Discovery Channel, constantly did episodes on Borneo’s impressive rainforests, which used to be highly protected from human impact. It’s rainforests are home to some of Nature’s most beautiful and elusive plants and animals, such as the Rafflesia flower, the Pygmy Elephant and the Bornean Sunbear. Borneo is also home to the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Center, which is a facility that provides medical care for orphaned and confiscated orangutans, as well as dozens of other wildlife species.

    It is an amazing region, filled with one of a kind wonder and beauty. And thanks to the Discovery Channel, I was determined to get there.

    Our first stop was in the capital city of Kota Kinabalu. While KK is the capital, it is more like a large village. But, there is still a good bit to do and see! Ever wonder where the first Survivor Episode was taped? Borneo. Yup, on the island of Pulau Tiga, just off the coast of KK. From KK, you can jump to most any island and go snorkeling, hiking and sight seeing. Both fortunately and unfortunately, all the islands are protected and you can therefore not spend overnight anywhere unless you are with a company doing a tour. Even then, I think the limit is two nights. But, KK itself, is a great place to rent a motorbike and simply tour around; there are a few good look out spaces just at the edge of the city line, if you are interested. During the first days of our arrival in KK, we spent most of the time on the back of the motorbike and in cafes, figuring out how to travel inland to both Sepilok and Sukau, to adventure through the wild and trek alongside the Kinabantagan River.

    Regardless of what people say, you can do this trip the backpacker way and catch buses and taxies to each destination. Just be prepared to feel a bit lost at times. The great thing is that East Malays are incredible friendly and truly want to help you get where you want to go! We took shared taxis and buses the whole time we were in Borneo, and everything worked out just fine.

    From KK, there are so many places in Sabah to explore. For us, I had planned this leg of the trip, so our first stop was therefore, of course, the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Center. To actually go into this refuge and watch 8 Orangutans swing into sight, eat, chill, sleep and pee was literally one of the most rewarding experiences for me on our trip. I was fulfilling a dream! These animals are so much like us humans it is unreal! And yes, you can say you saw one in a zoo… I promise, it is not the same thing.   The Orangutans at SORC have acres upon acres of wild jungle to explore. They are not in captivity. They actually only come in at feeding times. We heard that there are times that tourists come to see the great animals, and to their dismay, none of them show up for breakfast, finding their own food wherever in the sanctuary they may be! We were incredibly lucky to see eight of them, one being just a baby! Watching their large toes curl around bananas and lift them into their mouths whole, left me with my mouth wide open in a gasp. And when they stand up and walk, hug each other, turn their head side to side, take a nap, pretty much anything they do, they look like humans. Really, I could go on about our similarities forever. But, if i did that, I would never get to talk about trekking and long boating along the Kinabantagan river inside the Borneo Rainforest, one of the oldest rainforests in the world. What a life changing experience it was to watch King Fishers fly into their favorite spots, see anacondas slithering on banks, hear monkeys of all variations jumping and calling across tree lines, observe orangutans perched at tree tops, witness owls flying during daylight hours, feel crocodiles lurking under our boat, be annoyed by mosquitos slamming into us on all fronts, to duck from a bats’ flight, to have to survey every inch of our bodies for leeches as we returned to our rooms and to come lie in bed at the end of the night and think about our shared reality under the beauty of the 140 million year old Bornean Rainforest.

    It is no wonder that Borneo’s Rainforest has been scientifically traced as the center of the evolution and distribution of many endemic species of plants and animals. As a wanderer there, you literally feel like you are in the nucleus of the atom that is our world, feeling shock waves of energy, vibrancy, wholeness and oneness.

    So, call it what you want. Borneo, Sabah, East Malaysia… None of these express the beauty that this region holds. No words can hold the such a powerful vibration.

    All I can really say is, there could be no better last destination for our big 2014 trip. Every moment from May-September 2014, with just Rob and I, was beautiful, whole, meaningful, fulfilling, enlightening and faultless; and Borneo, you gave us the exact epic end we were needing.

  • METAMAN Triathlon in Bintan, Indonesia

    METAMAN Triathlon in Bintan, Indonesia

    As a traveler, some days are so completely relaxed that wicked abberant ideas seep into your brain, similar to sipping a cold coke through a straw after a long bus ride over the hills of Rajasthan. It just goes in and down so smoothly, feeling so refreshing, that every bit of the idea, or the coke for that matter, feels right.

    Our idea to compete in the MetaMan Triathlon in Bintan was precisely a cold coke through a straw. Out of nowhere, we had signed ourselves up for a new, exciting and refreshing challenge. For Rob that meant a 1.9km swim, a 90km bike and a 21.10 km run, the distances for the 1/2 IronMan. For me, a smaller sip, the Blitz Category, which is a 1.2km swim, 55km bike, and a 7km run.

    The setting: Bintan, Indonesia in Lagoi Bay. If you google the area, you can see why I easily went along with this idea. The beaches of Lagoi are gorgeous, resort like for certain. So, our first step was complete, the sign up. Now, as we sat in our warm damp bungalow on a beach in Koh Tao, almost a thousand dollars down, we needed to make a plan. We had exactly 2.5 weeks to train and make it to Indonesia, all while still exploring destinations such as the south of Thailand, Penang, KL and Singapore. The task was not that simple. It actually meant that we needed to give up going to some of the destinations I really wanted to travel to again, like Krabi and Koh Lanta. But, it had to be done. And as you see in my previous blog posts, we still had a lot of fun, in even short spans of time.

    We trained mostly while we were in Malaysia and Singapore. In Penang, Malaysia, we actually found an Olympic sized pool to swim in, which was great, minus its affinity for certain “shower offerings”. Once in Singapore, we had to arrange bikes, the ferry and our stay in Lagoi. This time, our rash coke like decision, came up like heartburn. Lagoi doesn’t just look resorty, it IS resorty. Lagoi is totally the weekend getaway for rich Singaporeans, meaning there are no cheap hotels for backpackers and certainly not a hostel in sight. There are only resorts. We thought we could get a place in Tanjung Penang, in the south of the island, but to trek up North the morning of the race would have been impossible. So we searched and searched for a decent place that was not 300 USD a night. In the end, we found a hotel for $70 a night, still way out of our budget, but it was our only choice, especially being so last-minute.

    Our split decision was beginning to hurt our pocket more than planned. But, our hands were already on the bottle, so we decided that we better make it worth it and kick complete ass at this Triathlon. The day of the race, we ate our protein bars, drank our salty drinks, and headed out to the beach with big smiles and a gut full of both nerves and determination. Rob’s group went first. So I stood nearby, wishing him luck and watching him get all geared up for the long race ahead, jumping up and down with all the other crazies to the beat of electronic music and the enthusiastic voice of our Aussie host. The moment had arrived. Boom. Into the water he went.

    After seeing him off, the realization that I was about to also dive into the ocean with hundreds of others, racing towards the other side of the bay, became very real. Shit, I thought. I hope I don’t get kicked in the mouth. With my nerves rushing vigorously through me, I slowly walked up to the starting gate. I decided that I would stay in the back of the start gate with the other newbies. My goal was simply to finish the race, not to win it. Soon, I heard the twang of our announcer, and saw those in front of me jumping up and down, just as Rob had. I did a little hobble, just to not feel so nervous. And suddenly, I was diving in. Feet at my head, arms at my side, feet behind me, all but four being my own. Now, I regretted staying in the back. Fighting my way forward, I finally came to an open space where I had room to actually swim. One by one, I began passing both men and women. It felt good. To my surprise, I was amongst some of the first contestants out of the water. I swim better than I thought! And then off to throw on my tennis shoes and find my rental bike, whose gears I have no clue how to really work. Perfect. Keeping up a good pace, I hopped on and went for it. For some reason, I had thought that being on an island, the bike part would be rather flat, but it most definitely was not. I was cranking up really long ascents. The bike ride for me was the most difficult part. But, it was also the best because local children and whole families stood on the side of the road, cheering each of us on, with big smiles and warm hearts. A little over an hour and a half later, exhausted, I rode my bike back into the stalling. Now, off to my favorite part, the RUN. Here is where my competitive spirit really kicked in. With every one of the seven miles I ran, I tried to not let anyone pass me. Instead, I tried to only pass others. One by one, I knew I was shedding numbers. And by mile 7, I came in 90th place out of 425 contestants.

    With a ridiculously large smile on my face, I searched for a place to sit. Rob was beginning the run part of his race, which meant time for food, water and rest for me. So, I sat near the finish line, happy, waiting for my fit-ass husband to come running in! Rob came in 49th out of 284 contestants! We did it!

    Thank goodness for coke.

  • Day 10: Soaring on life at Everest Base Camp

    Day 10: Soaring on life at Everest Base Camp

    The day that we had been working towards had finally arrived. Excitement filled the air. A 7 am wake up call, a quick breakfast of oats and …who the hell cares… “We are about to trek to our final UPWARD destination- Everest Base Camp! With a deep inhalation of brisk Himilayan air, we set foot outside the tea house at Gorak Shep. Even the smallest of noises are crushingly clear at 16,942 feet. Shrills of chisels against rock, think tink tink, as 15 men build new rock dwellings at a painstaking rate, tink tink tink. The sips and slurps of tea drinkers. The crunch of our feet over rock and snow, the slide of small pebbles as we push them behind. The whistle of the wind over the dreamy peaks that surround the desolate roof of Gorak Shep. The sounds of Everest are a beautiful symphony. And when you add such music behind a sense of impending accomplishment, your whole body beams with light. Atleast, that is how it was for me as we set off for the last ascent.

    From what we have heard, most people who trek to EBC experience crowded trails and muddled views. For us, the moment we arrived to base camp was anything but crowded. Anything but muddled. We were honestly THE ONLY PEOPLE THERE. The time we spent in silence and in awe is unforgettable. We felt proud. We felt as one. One with each other and every atom of our incredible universe. Thinking of all the trails we had traveled, all the blisters and pains the trails gave, the scent of pine and glacier water, all the kind souls we had met and the stunning beauty of mother nature that encompassed us. It was truly hypnagogic. As we stared into the eyes of Everest, trying to grab a hold of the beauty of this moment, placing it in our memory, we heard her roar. The end to Everest’s private symphony.  Luckily it was only a warning roar. As Everest raised her voice and sent an avalanche down, we stood in caution, suddenly becoming even more aware that with beauty sometimes lies danger, for large boulders the size of small cars and SUVs lied behind us. Fortunate for us, Everest’s movements were only strong enough to spew snow. So, no boulders came our way. But, moving quietly, we could feel the deepening of surface cracks over the glacier we were standing on. I felt quite timid to be honest. Questioning which way to move: forward on into Base Camp or retracting a bit to look over Base Camp. An impossible decision, which Rob made for us. Forward of course. Despite the danger that lurked with every footstep. And then a second avalanche came down. Now, we not only heard, but listened to Mother Nature’s message. Once we were in a safe zone again, I realized I had not been breathing for a while down there. But now, we were all three safe, and for that, I felt grateful. Grateful for safety in the moment, for the incredible life I have lived thus far, the man I love standing next to me, for kind souls in the world such as our guide Rakesh and our porter Saroj, for my family, for my friends, for the earth which provides us life and for the universe- which reminds us that we are all ONE.

    Before heading back to Gorak Shep, we took the picture you see above. We made it. All, 17,598 ft. Life is a beautiful adventure.

  • Day 9: Lobuche to Gorak Shep

    Day 9: Lobuche to Gorak Shep

    Out of all the tea houses we stayed in, I hate to say it, but I think the one in Lobuche was my least favorite. The set-up was just odd. There were about 8 or so rooms on one cement hall, interconnected by a cemented bathroom to another cement hall with its own 8 rooms. It was all pink dark cement. Odd. To add, everything was wet and dingy. It was off-season, we get it. Anyways, when 6:30 wake up call came, I was ready to throw on my clothes and hit the trail. Before doing the grudge work of getting out of my sleeping bag, and packing everything up, I took a peek out the window of our small room. I could see that the clouds wanted to take a gander at what the ground felt like. Heavy rain swells lied within them, and it was almost certain to me that our morning hike would be a wet one. Rob took a look as well. In agreement, we slid on an external rain tight layer that we bought for under 30 Euros in Kathmandu. Apparently Northface. In a jiffy, we were headed to the breakfast table for, who would have guessed it, porridge and oats. Sustenance is sustenance eh?

    Roughly around 7:30, we walked out into the wet cloth of outside and headed for Gorak Shep. The air was really wet a thick, yet a deep inhale still filled my entirety with fresh mountain air. So entirely invigorating. Within the first 100 meters, we saw a helicopter landing pad made of green grass and yellow flowers and painted rocks which made the H with the circle around it. Being that my Gramma is a helicopter pilot, I automatically thought, how cool would it be for her to fly here right now and see us climbing this trail! Everest, I am sure, is out of the question. My next thought was, I am glad we have not had to fly a helicopter this trip. A helicopter flight would have meant a life threatening situation and at least $5,000. So, yes, glad no helicopters joined our adventure.

    Gorak Shep lies at 5184m. It was about a 3 hour walk from our tea house in Lobuche. For some reason, I had envisioned that the last stretch to the last tea house would be tough. But, it could quite possibly have been the easiest day, both physically and mentally. The streak from Lobuche to Gorak Shep is just a steady, constant incline. No major changes. Just steadiness. The trail climbs over rivers, valleys and makeshift bridges, but all with rather easy forward footing. Once the rain came, my initial reaction was a bit of dread, but after a couple of minutes and the realization that my rain gear worked, I was so happy it was raining! With strong legs, steady breath and a light heart, we treaded on! Life felt real, gritty and beautiful. And as we mounted the village of Gorak Shep, just a short three hours after departure, a beautiful white horse stood under the day’s last view of Everest. All I could do was smile with my heart.

  • Day 3: Diamox and Namche

    Day 3: Diamox and Namche

    We sauntered lightly over deep trails, trails slicked by mountain dew and sodden green moss; trails that without a doubt hundreds of thousands of villagers and Asian wayfarers have once treaded. In my day dreams, built by the tales of time’s trekkers, story tellers, Kathmandu villagers and today’s bloggers, Namche was a busy trading point, where people from across Asia met to trade a melange of goods. It was supposed to be the gathering point of Tibetan, Indian and Nepalese mountain villagers. A place where most any good could be bought or traded. I imagined it being crazily busy, hazy, similar to the scene set underneath the Boudhanath stupa in Kathmandu. To my surprise, and later delight, Namche was anything but hustling. It was quite quiet actually. Upon arrival, my eyes kept searching for what my imagination believed was the reality of Namche. But, almost every store seemed to be dark, shut, and unwelcoming to the wandering trekker. People were absent. Gone. Our previous destination of Phakding seemed more awake than this sleepy city. But of course, it is “off-season”.

    After around a ten minute walk through the village, seeing only a few children playing in a wet field and one woman fetching water, Rakesh told us to unload our bags. Apparently, we had arrived to our hotel for the next two nights.  Expecting that the tea house owners would come out of the front door of the building our bags set on, I faced against the mountain’s view. Then, I suddenly heard a small, happy voice right behind me. As I turned around, I saw the cutest woman and another shy soul behind her. I am kicking myself for forgetting her name right now, but I remember her name didn’t seem fitting. I remember thinking, no, your name should be “Happy”. Her hello even held a giggle. After a few exchanges in Nepalese with Rakesh, she took us to a room on the bottom floor of the incredibly large building. It seemed strange because upstairs looked much nicer than the room she showed us to. Later, we would learn that being it was off-season, they were in the middle of some remodeling. Happy offered us the only room she felt suitable; two twin beds, a toilet, and enough rain water held in buckets to provide a shower if we wished and enough water to flush down what was necessary. Good is good, we said. So, we settled in, changing clothes, adding more layers on, and waiting for Rakesh to tell us the plans. And what were the plans? Basically, the game plan was to acclimatize. To spend the evening and the full next day getting use to the elevation we were at and the decreased oxygen levels. So, we spent the first evening playing cards, eating spaghetti (that was cooked in a temporary kitchen built for us), and reading. After, setting into our sleeping bags, we drifted off to a soft slumber together. While Rob slept like a bear in hibernation, I woke up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

    Literally, gasping.

    Fear rose inside of me, as I walked to the bathroom, looking for a light. Where is my “Rough Guide: Nepal”? I know they said something about this, I thought. I was panicking. I quickly shut the bathroom door behind me, so that the light would not wake my soundless husband. I sat on the toilet, flipped through my “Rough Guide: Nepal” book and tried to catch my breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth, I kept telling myself. Though this calmed me, I was still short of breath. Finally, I found the page on acclamating to the elevation differences throughout the Himalayas. Words like helicopter, throw-up, diarhreea, expensive, and death POPPED out to me on the page. But, somewhere inside, I was determined not to need DIAMOX. Though almost every former trekker whose blog I read had taken diamox to help them acclimate, I somehow thought I would be different; that my body would adjust to nature’s grip around me. But, as the night grew colder, and my gasps grew louder, I gave in. I took a half a Diamox and stuck out the rest of the night. By morning, I told Rob what happened to me in the middle of the night. He obviously did not have the same experience. But, since I was taking the Diamox now, he would too. Long story short, we acclimated to the elevation of Namche, and with Diamox floating in our systems, the uphill climb we faced in the coming days would be much more oxygenated. Thankfully.

    Lesson learned: Why try to beat the odds when the risk is high? Simply take the dang Diamox and get on with it.

    Lastly trekkers, don’t worry about purchasing diamox or any other medicines in advance. Get them all in Kathmandu. It is both cheaper and easier.

  • Day 2: Phakding to Namche

    Day 2: Phakding to Namche

    The day awaited us. I could feel my bones rise, sparks fire between the neurons in my brain, the hairs on my arms surge, my feet twitching – anticipating the moment they would get to slide into my hiking boots. I was beyond excited. I thought to myself, okay, what all should I wear? It feels quite cold, but today is supposed to be THE toughest part of the hike. So, on went my sports bra, a breathable T-shirt, khaki hiking shorts, my North Face rain jacket, wool socks and my North Face Boots. I swept my hair back, brushed my teeth, and quickly packed my bag, Rob’s bag and Saroj’s bag (for it was our extra stuff he was carrying). Once we were all packed up, we headed down stairs, just before 7:00 am. A full breakfast of oatmeal, tea and more tea, warmed us right up. So, with warm bellies, the four of us set off for Namche. Rakesh, our plugged in and knowledgeable guide from Good Karma Trekking, had warned us a bit ahead of time that Day 2 would be the toughest day. Namche Bazar sits at an elevation of 3,450m or 4,413 feet, which on average should take around 6 hours to get to from Phakding. Pretty much as soon as you walk out of the village of Phakding, you begin a slow ascent. Step by step, as the air got lighter, less dense- so did I. I FELT ALIVE. SO AWARE. SO CONNECTED. My blood pumping through my body, hearing the light thud of my heart, the rushing sounds of the Dudh Kosi River, feeling the cold sweat on my forehead and almost touching the songs of neighboring birds. LIFE WAS ALL AROUND US. WE were part of it. It was an incredible feeling. At around 11, we stopped to take a break and have some lunch. This was our second time to order off of an ‘off-season’ menu, which basically means that almost everything on the menu is not available. In actuality, you can get dumplings, dal baht or soup. We went for Dal Baht. And honestly trekkers, just go with Dal Baht almost every time you eat. You are guaranteed to be filled with enough nutrition to sustain you for the hours of climbing ahead, you most certainly will not get sick from it, and well, it tastes really good! Oh another thing, make sure you packed some kind of water aid. We packed TANG. It can change your normal Puni Pani (water) into something new, and tasty, for any other kind of refreshment on the mountain besides water and tea is expensive! Don’t forget it. You will want something to change the monotony of water on your taste buds. Now, where was I?

    After lunch, we got right back on the trail. We were quick on time, so Rakesh said we did not need to leave right away, but we were eager! So, we did anyways. From Phakding to Lukla, you cross the majority of the cable bridges that suspend high between mountain passes. Feeling our muscles beneath us, we climbed an incredibly long, mostly straight lined ascent. And as we entered through the holy passageway to Namche, slightly out of breath, we smiled from our heart to our lips.

  • Breathing for the second time: Lukla to Phakding

    Breathing for the second time: Lukla to Phakding

    If my first breath was a second after my birth, then my second true breath would have to be the moment we started walking towards our destination- Everest Base Camp. Day one, of eleven days of walking, wiggling my toes, groping trees, asking for Puni Pani, widening my eyes, smelling crisp evergreens, feeling small rocks slide beneath my feet, hearing – literally hearing the wind blow in twisting streams past my ears, and climbing to the steady pat of my heart had begun. I felt so completely alive. Conscious. Aware. Thrilled. And so eager. I could feel my heart smiling. After setting our bags on our backs, Rakesh and our lovely porter Saroj from Good Karma Trekking, led us through the “busy” streets of Lukla towards our next destination: Phakding. From Lukla to Phakding is only about a 3 hour walk; an easy “climb”. But, it seriously might as well have been 24 hours, in so far as in 3 hours, I experienced a days worth of imagery, beauty, enchantings. Within the first five hours, from flight to foot, the EBC trekker is already witnessing waterfalls, donkeys on trails, cows on trails, the refreshing effulgent Dudh Kosi River whipping rapidly through the Himalayan Valleys, and entrancing lower valley life. It is a bit funny, because there is a visible difference between lower valley folk and those in Kathmandu. It is almost tangible. Nothing better or anything, just different. You see this difference in the warmth of their smiles. The lack of city worry. But, beware trekkers: do not let your competitiveness think that you can walk faster than a small Nepali girl carrying fifty pounds of luggage. She might be chatting with her friend behind her, playing music from her small phone, wearing flip-flops and carrying a hell of a lot more weight than you, but, my friend, she is faster. Her feet know these steps like the back of her hand. Wherever she is going, she will most likely get there before you do. Funny enough, she doesn’t notice it. She is just being herself, within herself, completely bare of your path, your plans and your intentions. She will give you a shy smile and be on her way, most likely wishing you a small “go well” in her head. Don’t try to keep up with her, watch her, watch her go forward in lightness and imagine the home she is waiting to find. You may even see her again, for the trails of the Himalayas are forever intertwining with one another, letting some go and pushing others forward, yet always allowing any soul to sit still.

  • Everest Base Camp Trek: “First we fly to Lukla”

    Everest Base Camp Trek: “First we fly to Lukla”

    In hindsight, the first step of our epic EBC trek was probably the most unnerving. Let me first set the scene. While in India, and staying with friends in Ahmedabad, we were surprised to hear that at the age of 14, our friend Kahan, trekked to EBC with his father. While he mentioned some “really?” kinds of things, on the lines of sanitation, water, and intensity, what frightened us the most was what he said of the first step of the EBC trek- The flight to Lukla. Kahan basically stated that if we made it through the flight, the trek to EBC, for us, would be cake. Of course this alarmed us, so we asked why? He said, one: the planes are rickety old things, flying at incredible altitudes in all sorts of weather changes; two: the landing pad is on the side of a mountain and is truly 1,500ft long and only 60ft wide, with a runway that ends in a blank mountain wall and has an uphill gradient of 12 percent.
    HOLY COW. (Should I say holy cow in India? Oh well). And the story kept going, I promise. So, now let me tell you ours. After two days wandering around Kathmandu, drinking Everest Beer, preparing for our trek and seeing the sublime earthyness of Nepal’s capital, (which I of course will tell you about at a later date, because it is incredible), we were ready. So, on the morning of July 4th, 2014, we set out for our individual independence, our freedom and our couple and self-exploration. Wake up call was about 4 am, with Rakesh our amazing guide, picking us up at about 5am. Once we arrived at the airport, we could even see HIS nerves about flying. And he has literally made the flight hundreds of times- and still nervous? Now that is frightening. But, okay, I said a little prayer and boarded the 12 person plane. We were given candy to eat and cotton balls for our ears, and told to hold tight. Lift off was forcible and I was not armed. But, once we were in the air, the biggest smile came across my face. I kept telling myself, if we WERE to die on this flight, it was meant to be- so enjoy the beauty. As I looked back at Rakesh and the other Nepali passengers, I don’t think they had quite the same thoughts. But, as the picture shows above, I felt like I was the closest to God I had ever been at that moment. Outside the small plane, was a sea of mountains, light clouds with sunlight simmering through. The ectasy of the moment made me feel light, like cuddling in a bed of covers on a cold winter’s night. Part of this ecatasy was also knowing the next terrifying moment was ahead. So, when the captain said, “preapre for landing, I took a big breath and smiled back at Rob- “here we go”. The landing required so much percision. I mean, I get a bit nerved when a normal plane lands and then is taxiing towards the airport. This time, 1,500 ft away, there is nothing but mountain. You get me? But, we landed safely. And at that same split second, my journey of thankfulness and appreciation for my life and our beautiful world began.

  • The Taj Mahal, Agra, India

    The Taj Mahal, Agra, India

    The funny thing about traveling is, that sometimes, maybe most of the time, it ends up that the destination is not what you remember, but more of the journey getting there. In the case of the Taj Mahal, looking back, I rememeber the long train ride, the taxi, the man getting shaved on the side of the road near a “public toilet”, the women carrying loads of grass on the top of their heads, the cow shit, the camel shit, the horse shit, the loads of people, and the woman who asked for some of our water once we got inside the Taj (which of course we simply gave her the whole bottle, I mean it is water, we all need it). The Taj itself, is indeed beautiful, but the brillant moments on our journey to get there are even more stunning.

  • Pushkar, India

    Pushkar, India

    Sometimes, when I look at the adventures I have been on, the countries I have seen, the landscapes I have walked through, the cultures I have gotten the chance to swirl in, I am simply baffled and cannot help but feel incredibly blessed. Pushkar is a small city in the Indian state of Rajasthan, near India’s border with Pakistan. In some cases, even the most devout of Hindus wait their entire lives to make a pilgrimage to Pushkar, for the fact that it holds one of India’s few temples dedicated to Bramah; yet, miraculously, Rob and I made it there. Of course, when people ask you about India, it seems to be that the terrible instances get highlighted. Most often because people ask, “well, isn’t it dirty?” or “didn’t you get sick?” or “weren’t you uncomfortable as a western woman?” I guess it is also because the wonders of India are so very hard to explain. How can I rightly explain what it is like to watch the sunset over the Holy Lake of Pushkar, a lake infamously created by the tears Sati when her beloved husband Shiva passed away. How can I spell out the echoing song of the holy men, the soft tender cries of elderly beggars, the chatter of gypsy children pleading for a simple chapati, the call of street traders selling their catchpenny items. It seems close to impossible. Also, deeply personal. Somewhere inside, I constantly think to myself, why am I trying to explain the wonderment of India; unless a person is to experience it for themselves, they are never going to truly understand. But, of course I will keep on trying, muffling that small thought every now and again. So, yes, Pushkar is a facinating city; one that was truly worth the trip. Though it is very small in comparison to even Udaipur, a day can easily be filled by walking through the shops, trying to find ways to get around without walking near the entrance of the lake (where Sadhus time and time again ask you to come to the lake for prayer, which costs you-the tourist- as always- a pretty penny), eating vegetarian delights that you had no clue existed, watching the sun set over the lake from the many lakeside rooftops, counting cows, playing cards and drinking chai. Okay, it may not sound so facinating here, but its in these simple acts that you encounter so many things. For example, we wanted to send some dresses home to our nieces, so of course, we went to the post office. Well, what would take fifteen minutes in our western fast world, took half the day in Pushkar. It was actually fun though. We got to go inside the post office, spoke to the local postman who painstakingly took our dresses, wrapped old cloth around them and sewed up the sides for packaging. He spoke of the travelers he has met in his many years living in Pushkar, all while searching through piles and piles for a pen that could actually write on cloth. He was genuine, real and a delight to chat with. There were so many times that a normal task turned into an “experience”. This of course happened everyday on our travels, but in Pushkar there was something in the air that made every encounter heavier, more gritty and forever memorable.

  • Udaipur, India

    Udaipur, India

    Udaipur, India, in the state of Rajasthan. An incredible beauty. From Ahmedabad, we took a RedBus to Udaipur, which was about a 6 hour bus ride. Something like that. Udaipur is more of what I had always imagined India to be, in so far as Architecture and such, with the palaces, small streets, vendors gallore, a dirty lazy river and ghats rolling between where people swam, bathed, gathered for prayer, did the wash and even drank from. We stayed a total of 4 days in Udaipur, all which were filled with new sounds, colors, dirt, warmth, cow poop, trash and happiness. Freedom. Up to this point, I had vehementently refused to rent a scooter while in India. For me, the roads in India are a dangerous place for a foreigner to drive. I mean, Indians clamour about in old caddy cars, horse trailers, tractors, bicycles, elephants, donkeys- not to mention the Holy Cows wandering through the roads- and all without clear rules and regulations. Indians know this to be true, so I promise, I am not slandering here. But, Udaipur is so big, so if we were going to see its true sights, it seemed I needed to give in on the whole “renting a scooter thing”. So I did. Some parts were scary as hell, but we did it. One of the most beautiful sights for me was the Monsoon Palace of Udaipur, formerly known as the Sajjan Garh Palace. The Monsoon Palace was our first destination outside of the city that we wanted to go see, and with our scooter, it was now all possible. The palace itself overlooks Lake Fateh Sagar. It was built in 1884 by Maharana Sajjan Singh of the Mewar Dynasty. The palace itself is not that incredible, but the views you can see from it ARE. It offers a panoramic view of Udaipur and the Aravalli Hills. And by traveling there, you will gain new white and black, long tailed friends- monkeys. I think Macaws.

  • Adalaj Stepwell, Ahmedabad, India

    Adalaj Stepwell, Ahmedabad, India

    The sheer size of the Adalaj Stepwell in Ahmedabad is insane. Built in 1499 A.D. by Queen Rudabai, the Vav (step well) is several stories in depth and was intricately carved to meet its importance. It is a stunning piece of artwork. Upon our arrival to the step, we were a bit taken aback, as the outskirts of it is swarmed with people, indian style. There is a busy market next door, which is not for tourists really, but more for the small village the vav sits next to.

    Before entering the vav, we made a stop at a beautifully maintained temple. Honestly, I am not sure which Hindu god it adorned, but it was vibrant and beautiful. After this short stop, we headed into the well; I found it stunning. Not only the history behind it (as the vav was used on ancient trade routes), but the design of it. I think the picture above captures what I can’t put into words. The designs on its walls and pillars include, leaves, flowers, birds, fish and other ornamental designs. Inside nooks and crannies, you can find both bats and people, both which have come to see this beautiful historical monument.

  • Calangute, Goa, India

    Calangute, Goa, India

    The Indian State of Goa; formerly a Portugese colony, equipped with such past remininces mixed together with all the spice of today’s India. We stayed in the town of Calagunte, famous for its proximity to gold beaches, the Old Portugese Fort and chill hippy feel. We arrived in Calagunte via RedBUS, which took us a total of 20 hours from Bangalore. Upon our arrival, we searched for a cheap taxi to take us into town. After about 20 minutes of bargaining, we were off no better than we started at $8 for a 20 minute cab ride. We stayed in Calagunte for six days, mostly chilling around town, eating wonderful food and taking our mo-ped to all the beaches and small towns in the area, constantly getting caught in torential rain.

    One day, I made an appointment at an Ayruvedic Clinic just outside of town. My appointment was from 11-12, so Rob came back to come pick me up at 12:00 sharp. On his ride to come in get me, the sky was clear, but literally 5 minutes into our ride home, nature starting spilling car-size droplets on our head. We could not see two feet in front of us, so we found a tree to which we thought would provide us with shelter until the rain lightened. But, the tree could not even help. There was nothing to do but laugh, dance in the rain and be so thankful for life. We waitied for around 25 minutes, just talking, shivering, dancing, and laughing (me doing most of that) and then the sun broke free of the rain’s chains and we quickly hopped back on the bike. Shortly after is when I snapped this picture above. I found it beautiful, just like Calagunte.

    The sights of everyday life always brighten my soul and during our time in Calagunte, an “everyday” included Monsoon Season life. With fewer tourists around, life in Calagunte during Monsoon season is slow, lazy and free; women walking in fields after hard rains, men in bars at 10 am sipping on cold beers, couples plowing their field with their faithful ox, children running and splashing in flooded soccer fields. Simple and beautiful.

  • Bangalore, India

    Bangalore, India

    Just a short flight away from Colombo, lies the Silicon Valley city of India: Bangalore. Truly, we did not know what to expect, for the reason for traveling to Bangalore was more that we could hangout for a couple of days with my old roomate and her husband (Priyal and Jamshed). Therefore, Bangalore took us by surprise. It is s seriously cool city.

    Formally known as Bengaluru, Banglore is the capital of the state Karnataka and is the third most populous city in India. Bangalore has a really comfortable climate, sitting at over 900 meters above sea level, and can therefore be enjoyed year-round. Out of all the cities we have visited thus far, we deemed Bangalore as the most livable. As a sprawling metropolis, every corner has something to offer, whether it is an old temple, a historic market, or a new modern cafe (such as The Smoke House or I and Monkey).

    The photograph taken above is from the front of the Krishnarajendra Market, which really was a whole city in itself. Every walk of life meets here to get their goods: clothing, food, utensils, spices, toys- just about anything. And as most bazaars, upon entry, you feel as if you are walking back in time. Thinking to yourself, “wow. this is what a supermarket use to look like.” Furthermore,  I am sure many Westerners would be set-aback by the hygienic state of the market, but that didn’t stop us. In fact, I think it spiked our curiosity even more. Walking between sacred cows and their poop, vegetables, clothes, sewage, monkeys, bare feet and piles of trash, our curiosity was rewarded by the new sights, sounds and smells. Our day was incredible, our stay was perfect and we hope to get back to Bangin in Bangalore some day in the future.:) Thanks again to our dear friends for letting us stay at their home: a home filled with a lot of love, beautiful people and ridiculously good food.

  • Koggala, Sri Lanka

    Koggala, Sri Lanka

    You know the moment you start planning a trip and you see tons of photos of your destination, and there are around 2 or 3 that you see and then tell yourself, “I have to see that”. Well the photo above, was exactly that for me. For almost a month, I spent my little spare time between work and life, researching what we should see in Sri Lanka; above all, I just had to see for myself Sinhalese men using their ancient fishing technique at the Indian ocean’s shore of Koggala. It was a must. And therefore, one afternoon, towards the end of our tour around Sri Lanka, we rented a scooter and skimmed the shoreline roads between Hikkaduwa and Koggala looking for my fisherman. And at just before sunset, we got to see them sitting on their sturdy sea-faring sticks, dipping their old cane poles and coming out with money in the form of little sardines. At this moment, I felt achievement, happiness, and curiosity for all the other sights we will soon see. It’s these moments that are the reward for pushing boundaries, for being a traveler, for being who I am.

  • A kind soul named John

    A kind soul named John

    In total, we stayed in Sri Lanka for close to a month. Our days were filled with so much natural beauty. Just as important, if not more, we also experienced so much kindness. Though we met so many nice people with friendly faces and hearts along the way, the caretaker of Dinaka Rest in Kataragama, MR. JOHN (the man on the right) was for me the kindest soul I had met in Sri Lanka. On the night of our arrival in Kataragama, traveling and experiencing new food and a new diet got the best of me. For a total of 12 hours, I basically puked my guts up. But, I couldn’t have been in better hands. Not, only did I have my husband by my side, who is always helpful and caring, I also had Mr. John. Being in just s small village, knowing where and what medicines to get was not easy for Rob. And therefore, with a caring hand, John did his best to help me in every which way, from going to get me medicine, to serving simple foods and honestly just being thoughtful. After 2 days of rest, I was finally better. As if he hadn’t already been so kind, John took care of us in so many other ways. John was like our Sinhalese grandfather, offering stories, simplicities, lessons, and standing up for us when our Safari driver did us wrong. He gave us a free night stay, saying we must stay more days since I was sick and did not get to see what we intended; he made delicious meals to both mine and Rob’s needs; he took us to the bus station, making sure we got on the right bus to Unawatuna, and even paid for the tickets. At every chance, we tried to interrupt, saying, “John, please, it’s too much. You don’t need to do that.” But, he was insistent, and all we could do was smile and feel blessed. Though sometimes the language barrier was present, the understanding between the three of us was so dear and something I will never forget. Thank you John and we hope to see you again some day. :)

  • Kandy, Sri Lanka

    Kandy, Sri Lanka

    From Anuradhapura we traveled south to Habarana town (stayed 1 day) and then again south to Kandy. Along this trip, we saw the environment and scenery drift from small hills and jungle to mountainous terrain. Kandy, for us, was absolutely stunning.

    While in Kandy, we imagined that we would have the chance to do some mountain biking, but unfortunately could not find any sources. So, instead, we made day adventures in the city, which definitely worked out in our favor. We stumbled  upon a man who offered us tickets to a Sinhalese Dance performance, land monitors, yummy food and the above cemetery. Offically, it is the British Garrison of Kandy. If you can, please read the BBC article link below. From my side, the cemetary was a treasure and the caretaker, Charles, was an master at story telling, unfolding the dramatic endings of both British men, women and children who made their way to Kandy during the British Colonial Era.

    http://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-14984188

  • Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka

    Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka

    After a 2 day stay in Negombo and another 2 days stay in Kalpitiya, Anuradhapura was the next stop. Anuradhapura is one of the ancient capitals of Sri Lanka, famous for its well-preserved ruins of ancient Sri Lankan civilization the preservation and continuation of Theraveda Buddhism. The ancient city, considered sacred to the Buddhist world, is today surrounded by monasteries covering an area of over sixteen square miles (40 km²).

    But again, being on a backpackers budget, we opted out for the UNESCO tickets and decided to find bird’s eyes views of the Dagobas inside the ancient city. So, with our backpack packed full of the tourist reg (water, camera, books and money) we headed to the watersheds (an impressive engineering feat themselves), which with their height above ground, we could use as a viewing point. From there, we traveled on to see the laying Buddha, Ruwanwelisseya Dagoba, the Rock Temple, and the sacred Bodhi Tree (where we recieved our first Buddhist Blessing of the trip). By this time, it was getting later in the day, but earlier, we had passed by a huge Buddha statue, which we thought would be worth a see. So, thinking it was our last stop, we headed for the statue, only to find ourselves in the middle of a monastery. And as we entered through the gates, we were waved over by a monk with a big smile, asking us to come into his classroom filled with his students. The kindness we experienced in the next two hours and again later in that evening is something we will never forget. We spent hours talkng about the English Language, Buddhism, the circle of life, finding faces whom you are sure you have met in another life, and visiting one of the monk’s temples late into the evening with a cup of soup, tea, and a big smile; feeling absolutely sure that at this moment in time our lives were blessed.